by Becky McGraw
Safe Mode
Deep Six Security, Book 4
Dex’s Story
Becky McGraw
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my wonderful editor and friend, Carolyn Depew of Write Right Edits, for being my teammate to get this book done on time. I couldn’t have done it without your help. I’d also like to thank you, my readers and friends, for your support, encouragement and time spent reading and enjoying my books. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to indulge my passion for storytelling, so thank you for that gift.
I hope you enjoy Dex’s story, and I’d love to hear what you think. It includes a little darker subject matter than some of my other books in the Deep Six series, but I tried to handle it delicately and I hope I succeeded. Safe Mode is fiction, of course, but I’m sad to say that those darker elements I included also exist in real life. I hope this brings some light to them.
Indulge your passion in any way you desire, choose your favorite flavor from vanilla to rocky road, but please make sure those you indulge with and give your trust are trustworthy.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SAFE MODE, Copyright © December, 2016 by Becky McGraw.
ISBN: 781943188048
All rights reserved under International and Pan American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.
PROLOGUE
“I need you to revise your last surveillance report on Tajikistan, Mr. Lowell,” former General Thomas Sheridan said, pinning Brennan with a potent stare as he leaned back in his over-sized office chair to tent his fingers over his chest.
Even though his gaze was locked with Thom’s, Brennan didn’t miss the sly, nervous glance he received from Clay Berger, Sheridan Enterprises’ second-in-command, who sat in a chair beside the General’s desk in a much-less-relaxed pose.
“Revise it how, sir?” Brennan asked warily.
He’d learned over the two years he’d worked in this facility, which was more secure than the nearby Pentagon they serviced, that being called into Thom Sheridan’s office the first thing on Friday morning never boded well. And he also knew without a doubt that his report didn’t need revision.
Brennan had nothing but time to make sure that report was perfect, since it was his only responsibility at the brain-trust fishbowl division of the much-in-demand government contractor. Well, that and watching the thousand or so known and secret satellites orbiting the earth when they flew over the middle-eastern hotbed countries to identify activity at fifteen hundred points of interest to the US government.
“I believe you made an error, Lowell,” Sheridan replied, his fingers twining into a single fist over his chest as his eyes narrowed. “Your report doesn’t include the apparent heavy water and plutonium transfer to the storage depot on the Tajiki border that happened last week, which was reported by General Morton to the Secretary of Defense and Senate Arms Committee this morning, so it needs to be corrected.”
Brennan might only be twenty-three, exceptionally young for a guy with an MIT master’s degree, much less a top-level security clearance job like his here, but he wasn’t naive. This man wanted something from him, but he was talking in code of some sort.
“My report doesn’t include that, sir, because it didn’t happen. That depot has been abandoned and is still locked tight.” And you fucking know that.
“Are you sure about that, Lowell? I need that report to coincide with the Secretary’s report.” His penetrating stare bored right into Brennan’s brain, as if trying to brand his intentions into Brennan’s will. “Lives and jobs depend on it.”
Was that a threat? If Sheridan was threatening to fire Brennan, he’d save him the trouble and quit. But when he came into this fold, he was informed due to the security clearance they were given, people didn’t just quit this company.
Coming to work for the cloak-and-dagger top secret government contractor when he couldn’t join the military because of his eyesight and inability to scale the wall in boot camp had been a huge mistake. His nerves couldn’t take much more of being pinned like an insect to their genius collection board and continually watched.
“I’m positive—there hasn’t even been a stray goat in the area in two years.” And I’m not about to become your scapegoat for whatever you’re doing.
“I think you’re mistaken, son,” General Sheridan corrected. “You must’ve missed the nuclear material shipment into that depot because it was transported out so quickly by rebels over the border into Afghanistan.”
There was no way he missed all that—and there was no way the General had more information than he did on the situation. The situation and the General’s request became crystal clear in Brennan’s mind.
“Are you saying you want me to forge the report, General?” Brennan asked, cutting through the code, because he wanted a spade to be called a spade.
Not that he was going to comply.
He knew top-ranking military brass had been hot on finding a reason for military action at the border of Tajikistan for years, long before he came to work here. Through at least two administrations, their efforts to convince the executive branch that the Iranian government was paying Tajiki rebels to smuggle nuclear material into Afghanistan and then on to Iran had failed. There wasn’t evidence to support it. But now, it appeared they were desperate enough to fake evidence to get their way.
If they used his report to justify action, which is what appeared to be the plan, when it was discovered the intel was wrong—or worse forged—Brennan would be the fall guy. That could buy him a congressional inquiry and possibly very long stretch in a federal penitentiary, or worse.
“I’m saying the choice of correcting your mistake is yours, but I’m sure your family would appreciate you doing your patriotic duty here. Your mother and father, must be very concerned about Patton and Grant. They’re deployed in Iraq at the moment aren’t they? A Navy SEAL and a Ranger—very commendable, but highly dangerous. I’m sure you’d want to protect them if you could, correct?”
Because these men had put him through exhaustive interviews and background checks before he was hired, Brennan knew that they knew everything about him and his family, right down to what size underwear he wore.
And what size pine box they’d need to bury him.
He was sure the other branch of Sheridan, which employed mercenaries and special operators, would have no problem putting him in one if he didn’t agree to do this.
A bead of sweat slid from Brennan’s hair to streak down to the collar of his dress shirt, which absorbed it. The damned tie that cinched the shirt there felt like a tourniquet at the moment, with his heart pounding in his throat.
“Of course I want to protect them,” he replied, his voice squeaking past the knot of fear lodged in his throat. He would do anything in his power to protect them, and himself.
Brennan knew once he forged this report, though, it wouldn’t be the last time this man used the leverage of his family’s safety, or his own, to get him to do his dirty work. Once he’d given in to this thug, that leve
rage would be used time and again for that purpose.
He had to figure out how to get out of here.
“Good, then I’ll expect your revised report on my desk by five o’clock,” Sheridan said with a smile that reminded Brennan of a cobra about to strike.
Brennan stood and adjusted his tie to loosen it, so he could breathe. “I’ll have the report on your desk by five.” After that he had no idea what he’d do.
“Good boy, smart…your parents must be very proud,” he said, shooting a sly glance at Clay who nodded.
If shit hit the fan, they would kill him to cover their tracks.
Brennan had no doubt whatsoever about that at the moment. His family’s old Boston money, their staunch patriotism since the Revolutionary War, even their political connections—none of that could save him now. He would just have to figure out how to save himself.
CHAPTER ONE
“Dex, I need that report before you leave today. Logan wants the big picture before you bug out for your trip, so he can give you a budget.” Gray grinned as he leaned into the doorway of his office to fold his arms over his chest.
“I’m working on it,” Dex replied, his frustration at code red.
God, he hated doing things longhand, but the accounting program Gray used to slice and dice the numbers for Deep Six Security was way outside his knowledge base. Since Dex was the resident computer and IT expert, that spoke volumes. When he loaded it on Gray’s machine, he left the setup to him and told him if he needed support on it, he was on his own.
Accounting gave him hives. Probably not as bad a case as Gray got, though, when he presented Dex’s expense reports to Logan. That was an ongoing battle in the office and he was thankful their numbers guy was on his team, because Logan was a tightwad.
If left up to his boss, they’d be using surplus machines he picked up at a government auction for a song. Thank goodness Susan and Lou Ellen worked behind the scenes now to get things approved too, or the team might be as well-equipped as the Minutemen in the Revolutionary War. Over the six years he’d worked for Deep Six, the adds to their team had made his life a whole lot easier.
“Logan is threatening to confiscate your company credit card,” Gray informed.
“Gee, I’ve never heard that one before,” Dex replied, glancing up to roll his eyes. “Last week he was going to melt it with a blow torch, and the week before, turn the card and me into coleslaw in the paper shredder.”
“Yeah, I know, but you know he appreciates what you do for the team. With the new contracts we have the money, he’s just—”
“As tight as a—” Dex started, but stopped when Logan appeared behind Gray in the doorway.
“A camel’s ass in a sandstorm?” Logan suggested, lifting a brow as he leaned a shoulder on the jamb wearing a smug grin. “A goat’s ass in the sandbox? So tight you can’t drive in a ten penny nail with a sledgehammer?”
His eyebrows lifted and he stopped and waited, but Dex had nothing to add that wouldn’t assure his much anticipated trip to Vegas would be canceled.
“I’ve heard them all, so give it your best shot—but have that damned report to me in an hour.” Logan stepped back, but then leaned in again. “And make sure Izzy is up to speed with your intel on the Ergon Services case before you leave. I don’t want to have to call you in Vegas and make you think you’re indispensable. You already know you are, and your head is big enough.”
Was that a laugh he heard as Logan walked away?
Surprised, Dex met Gray’s eyes, and he shrugged. “It’s the kid, and I think the Susan and Lou Ellen tag team are finally making progress too. I’ve never seen him like this. With that new house they bought, he’s actually out of here at five most days.”
“Remind me to get that kid something special for his first birthday,” Dex replied, looking back at his screen.
“I think you’d better get Lou Ellen and Susan a Taser at that conference too, so they can handle him when he gets that invoice. I think I’m going to take a vacation and let them give it to him with a tranquilizer.”
Gray needed to be next on deck to find a little rest and relaxation, because Dex was starting to worry about the man who never seemed to sleep. No one in the office had a vacation since he’d been there.
Dex didn’t really have the desire, since the only place he had to go was to visit his family in Boston. Because of how he left Sheridan Enterprises, he felt like it was best, and safest, for them all if he stayed away. Bi-annual phone calls to his mother were enough to satisfy the military family who thought he was a failure. Black sheep didn’t begin to describe how he fit, or had always felt he fit, into the framework that was the elite Boston Lowell family.
Now, it would be even worse.
“It won’t be that bad. I’ll be frugal,” Dex promised, but knew it was empty. The odds were, when he talked with people who spoke the same language he did—techno geek—he would be buying whatever they were selling. It had been six long years since he’d had an opportunity to speak that language with someone who understood him.
Online purchases based on reviews were hit and miss, definitely not the same as seeing new technology and cutting-edge prototypes up close and personal, having their functions and capabilities explained in intricate detail, before he bought it. The excitement that kept him from sleeping last night surged up again to make him giddy.
“Frugal is a word that isn’t in your vocabulary, man, and you know it,” Gray replied. “You know the limit though. Just give me a head’s up if you see the card smoking so I can make a payment to cover your ass. If the bank calls him, we’re both toast.”
“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Dex replied. With a nod, Gray left and Dex stared at the empty doorway.
“Hey, kiddo,” Lou Ellen said, striding into his office holding out an envelope. “I printed out your ticket and boarding pass. You need to get a move on or you’re going to miss your flight. We’ve got an hour and a half drive to the airport, and it took me two damned hours to get through security when I flew to Jersey to see my nephews. They installed some new face recognition thing and it really slowed things down.”
Wow, even the airport had new technology he’d love to see up close and personal.
Logan had kept him so busy at Deep Six for the last six years, he felt like he was living in a technology vacuum, learning only from online articles and information. Part of the vacuum was created by his own fear, though.
After six years of nothing, Dex felt relatively sure he was safe to end his forced hiatus from life now. If Sheridan hadn’t figured out he was the whistleblower, or found him and tried to kill him because he had identified him, Dex felt sure he was safe.
Besides as of a year ago, Clay Berger was in jail for at least twenty years. Sheridan Enterprises was no more, and Thom Sheridan, the degenerate, retired four-star general he’d worked for two years out of college, seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth four years ago. After the Congressional hearings which he managed to skate through by either lying his ass off or pleading the fifth to every other question, Thom must’ve thought getting out of Washington was a good idea. Dex just regretted not being there to refute his lies, put him in jail where he belonged, but leaving town had been best for him and his family too.
Good riddance.
Dex hoped the rat didn’t escape, though, that he was either hiding in some third-world shithole, or being interrogated by the CIA for answers at a black prison site in the Adriatic Sea.
Yes, the government said those sites didn’t exist, but Dex knew they did and were often put to good use. He couldn’t think of a better use for them than torturing General Thomas Sheridan to teach him he wasn’t above the law.
With a sigh, he forced those thoughts from his mind, because they served no useful purpose now. He was going to Vegas, baby!
“Think you could help me finish this expense report so I can get with Izzy before we leave?” he asked in his most charming voice, and Lou Ellen rolled her eyes.<
br />
“You mean do it for you?” she asked with a dry laugh. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes, boy.”
“I know I am, and I appreciate you putting up with me.” Dex stood and walked around his desk to squeeze her shoulders and drop a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t know how Deep Six survived until you came along, Lou.” How he’d survived being on his own and isolated from his family without her support for five of those years.
But he knew he couldn’t go back. Dexter Buchanan had gone too far with his lies and was too deep in his cover to ever reconcile with his family. His father would never understand not only quitting that job, but blowing the whistle on Sheridan and then disappearing like a coward. But he did what he believed was necessary to protect them all.
His pseudo-family at Deep Six would just have to do, as dysfunctional as they were sometimes.
***
By the time the landing announcement came, Dex was more than ready to be off the tin can with wings and away from the well-seasoned guy next to him. Leaning forward, he found an air-pocket not saturated with the oniony smell of his seatmate to watch out the window impatiently as they taxied to the gate. As soon as the jerk came that told him the plane was stopped, he unclicked his belt and almost ran down the aisle to the front.
He glanced at his watch and saw they were a few minutes early. If he hurried to the hotel, he might make the meet-and-greet cocktail hour to mingle with the other techno-nerds who would be just as excited as he was about this event.
The door opened and Dex was the first one in the tunnel. He glanced up at the monitor as he passed it and saw his bag would be at baggage claim seven. When he reached the escalator, Dex gnashed his teeth as he waited for his turn to get on. At the bottom, he shouldered his way through the crowd, then located belt number seven.
On his way, he noticed a spectacularly curved redhead struggling with a floral print bag on another conveyor. She spread her legs and bent over in her swingy skirt and black come-fuck-me-heels, braced, then grabbed the handle. The suitcase almost jerked her off her feet and the hem of her skirt lifted up, showing her perfect legs almost all the way up to her ass. He glanced over to a man about ten feet away and saw he wasn’t the only one gawking. Instead of smiling as he enjoyed the view, though, the man in the leather pants looked angry—livid.