by S L Shelton
“Have you found Wolfe and the rogue SEAL team members?”
“We continue to close in on their data trail. But even if they aren’t located in time, we have enough manufactured evidence to sway both the press and public that the treason is solely theirs.”
“Excellent,” Harp said then turned and looked up at the high, domed, rotunda ceiling. “But I’d feel better if we had the CIA splinter cell in custody.”
“Richards is using all the resources available to him,” Braun replied. “But…”
“But what, Braun?”
“I do have one piece of disturbing news to report. It would seem Richards’s replacement at Homeland Security was targeted early this morning,” Braun said. “They were run off the road, and he and his entire security team were executed.”
Harp turned and scanned the floor of the rotunda, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Was it Wolfe?”
“We believe it was Wolfe but have as yet, uncovered nothing solid,” Braun replied. “It’s odd though…they didn’t take anyone. They killed all four in place. Two of them by knife.”
“They killed them with knives?! That sounds personal.” Harp tucked himself deeper into the alcove and lowered his voice. “Why would they target a minor player at Homeland Security?”
“Gold worked as Director Richards’s personal bodyguard for a number of years and was put in place to facilitate cross-agency cooperation.”
A sinking feeling swept down Harp’s gut. “That’s no coincidence.”
“No, sir. We don’t know what they were after, but that is most assuredly no coincidence.”
“But he knew nothing…nothing of strategic value anyway?”
“Possibly. But we are treating it as an immediate threat and are increasing security on all our political and bureaucratic assets.”
Harp rested his hand under his nose and stared at the floor for a moment. “Get a team to cover Congressman Trembly. We have too much time and money invested in him to let this fall apart now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Braun, I don’t need to tell you that everything is riding on this handover of power,” Harp said, sweat forming on his brow. “The CIA forced our hand when it disappeared with our operational funds. The entire project is vulnerable.”
“We’re trying, sir. But Wolfe has proven difficult to pin down from the beginning.”
“He’s one man!” His voice echoed out of the alcove, eliciting a nervous glance from his Jagger bodyguard.
“Yes, sir. We’ll find him. You can’t just hide a hundred billion dollars under your mattress.
“If we have rogue SpecOps reaping revenge on us, that’s almost more dangerous than a coordinated attack. Every player on the board has a purpose.”
“Understood, sir.”
Harp flexed his fist and ended the call, handing the phone back to the Jagger. “Have my driver bring the car around. We’ve exposed ourselves enough today.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the Jagger disappeared around the corner of the cloakroom, Harp took a deep breath through his nose. He had to resist the temptation to rush, despite his fears. He had the resources, he had the moral imperative. And his enemies had been relegated to criminal status, running, hiding like hunted animals. With that thought, he breathed out, calmer than a moment before.
“I’ve got this,” he muttered, then flattened his tie with the palm of his hand as he walked out of the Capitol.
**
Defense Intelligence Agency Special Projects Section, research and training compound, Fort Detrick, Maryland
HEINRICH BRAUN closed his phone and stared at the still sedated prisoner—Kathrin Fuchs. Her physical wounds were nearly healed but the process was slow due to the other conditioning he was lavishing on her.
Her head jerked back and forth and a sheen of perspiration clung to her face. He turned on the sound to the room to hear what part of his brainwashing program had her so bothered.
“Forget Kathrin!” the voice on the intercom said. “The priority is the money…get the money.”
Gunfire and explosions boomed in the background. The voice sounded like Scott Wolfe’s, though manufactured by techs—he sounded stressed, frantic. In Kathrin’s drug-addled mind, the events that led up to her capture were being rewritten.
It had been easy to replicate Wolfe’s voice from phone conversations and video recordings. Now that his man—Ned Richards—was the Director of the CIA’s National Clandestine Service, it had been easy to access the archived voice files. After only a few days, Braun was able to construct auditory poison to pour into Kathrin’s ears, slowly bending her to Braun’s new purpose. When her conditioning was complete, she would be better able to recite Wolfe’s betrayal against her than the writer of the script.
“She’s expendable! The funds aren’t. Save Storc!” The voice on the intercom said, sounding so much like Scott Wolfe, even electronic analysis wouldn’t have found a difference.
“How are her wounds?” Came a woman’s voice behind Braun.
Braun turned and hooked his arm over the back of the chair. Tris—the Lance/Jagger hybrid enhanced asset who had captured Kathrin Fuchs.
“She’s almost healed. Her first enhancement protocol is starting to take hold,” he said, his thick German accent rolling his “R”s and clipping his “S”s. He looked at Tris’s abdomen and the curve of her protective posture. His gaze rose to the vanishing scar at her hairline when he noticed her burning glare. “How are your wounds?”
“Don’t worry about my wounds. I’ll be fine.” She sounded agitated—odd for an emotionless killer.
“As you say,” Braun replied turning back to his mind-shaping project on the other side of the window, breaking the uncomfortable eye contact—he had not felt at ease around Tris since the Sprytes were murdered. He suspected that as soon as he found Combine’s missing hundred billion dollar slush fund, Harp would have Tris execute him. “Is she responding to you?”
He already knew the answer to that question. There wasn’t a single second of Tris’s interaction with Kathrin that he hadn’t observed. He just wanted to hear Tris’s perspective of their time together.
“She never remembers. But she responds to my voice as expected.”
“Good,” Braun said. “It’s probably the most important aspect of this project.”
“I know my part in this.”
Braun swung around and looked at her. “Do you? Because you’ve frequently been absent when she surfaces from her fog.”
“I have other duties as well. I have to find Wolfe.”
Braun squinted. “We have other active assets searching for Wolfe.”
“They wouldn’t be able to take him even if they found him,” she replied, dismissively but with an edge of hatred. “I’ll need to be present when he’s located.”
“How many false sites have you hit now?”
She glared at him in the reflection of the window. “Eight. But the one time I don’t go, it’ll be him. We can’t risk it.”
Braun lowered the volume on the speakers. “Finding Wolfe isn’t as important as finding the money. And we can’t do that without the girl.”
Tris looked through the window, stepping so close to the glass that Braun could see the fog of her breath on it. “Harp disagrees.”
Braun watched the pulse in her neck throb irregularly. Everything about her seemed human at a distance, but up close, her enhancements made her seem otherworldly—irregular pulse, breath without rhythm, and when standing still there was no motion, not even the slightest sway. Humans have to constantly flex and micro adjust their muscles for balance. No such movement was necessary for Tris, and it was unsettling.
“Hopefully, we’ll have found the CIA splinter cell before planning is complete for our little regime change,” she said when Braun didn’t reply. “The bounce traces on their communications and internet activity is spiraling down…they can’t stay hidden much longer.”
Braun shifted uncomfortably. “It�
��s highly unlikely they’ll be able to cause trouble. They’ve been completely isolated for two months, and the handover of power was only just agreed upon. They can’t possibly know what is happening.”
Tris looked at him. “Do you really believe that?”
“I’d like to.”
She shook her head. “A couple of rogue operatives and a handful of SEALs wouldn’t normally be something to worry about, but Wolfe isn’t just an operative, is he?”
Braun breathed out slowly. “No. He isn’t.”
She returned her attention to Kathrin whose chest was now convulsing in heavy sobs. “When will you put her on the next protocol?” she asked.
“As soon as the first treatment proves to have taken fully. We’ll need to bring her out of her fog long enough to test her,” he said, turning his attention to the detailed medical schedule. “I’d also like to ensure she won’t simply kill us all once the enhancements are complete.”
Tris grinned coldly in the window’s reflection. “There’s always that possibility.”
“Like I said…”
“If she survives,” she muttered.
“What?”
“If she survives the enhancements. Not everyone does, you know.”
Braun frowned. “I don’t like to dwell on variables I have no control over.”
She nodded without looking away from Kathrin. In the background the audio program continued to play, pitting Scott Wolfe against Kathrin’s increasingly fragile ego. After a moment, Tris turned back to Braun. “You don’t need to concern yourself with my healing.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You haven’t taken your eyes off my head wound since I came in. For a spy, you’re a shit liar.”
“I wasn’t concerned. I’m just curious.”
With impossible speed, she rushed him, pinning his hands to the arm of the chair. “Well don’t… It bothers me.”
He turned his head away from her. “As you wish.”
She straightened slowly, releasing him. “I do.”
He turned back to his work at the control board and adjusted Kathrin’s drug flow. “Be sure to update Harp as soon as you’re able.”
He watched her leave through the reflection in the window. Had it not been for that, he would have been completely unaware of her departure, silent as it was.
I’m sorry, Tris, dear, Braun thought. I need to find Wolfe before you do. Otherwise, my usefulness to Combine will be at an end.
Through the glass, Kathrin’s head twisted back and forth, her eyes pressed closed tightly. Braun took a deep breath and leaned forward. “If you can’t tempt him out of his hole, nothing will.”
Kathrin thrashed her head side to side, resisting the programming. Braun sat back and flexed his wrist where Tris had grabbed him. He wasn’t so old that he couldn’t still rise to violence when necessary, but he harbored no illusions—if Tris came for him, he would be dead. And unlike Harbinger, who had been easily controlled by an understanding of his “code”, Tris was a puzzle, alien and enigmatic. There would be no turning her once she set her eye on her target.
He chuckled, suddenly picturing William Spryte’s startled reaction upon realizing it had been Combine that had sent the assets to kill him. Did he beg for his life? Or, was he so outraged that he didn’t have time to beg? I’m betting he was so filled with rage it didn’t even occur to him to be afraid. The thought made Braun smile.
He stared at Kathrin a moment longer. “We won’t beg when it’s our time…will we?”
two
Monday, April 25th
5:30 a.m.—Falling Water, West Virginia
STORY “STORC” CARSON lay with his arm beneath Jo Zook’s head. Her face nestled under his chin, and her breath tickled the hair on his chest. He listened to her breathe trying to settle his own breath into a rhythm so he could get back to sleep—he was so tired.
But sleep wouldn’t come to him. His mind raced, filled with code, encryption algorithms, and malware scripts. After a moment of wrestling with the notion of going back to work, he moved slowly removing his arm from under Jo’s neck.
He watched her face in the dim light of the computer room for several minutes, then moved his legs off the bed.
She stirred. “What’s wrong?” she whispered without opening her eyes.
“Nothing. Just can’t sleep.”
She groaned and draped her arm over his bare chest. “It’s still dark. Sleep. It’s okay.”
He lay there a few moments longer and pulled away again. “I’m sorry. I have to get up. You stay though.”
“What’s bothering you?”
He slipped his feet into his sandals. “Targeting.”
She wiped her eyes. “What targeting?”
A knock at the door interrupted his response. He opened it a crack. It was Scott.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. But I couldn’t help notice you were awake,” Scott said.
Storc looked over his shoulder at Jo who was already pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top. She nodded, and he opened the door.
“I have something to throw past you…I want both your opinions,” Scott said.
Storc sat on the edge of the mattress as Jo came around from the other side and sat in one of the two matching chairs in front of the computers.
She nodded, genuinely intrigued. “What is it?”
“The Intelligence backups…that’s only going to help us operationally.”
“I know,” Storc said. “That’s what’s been keeping me awake.”
Scott nodded. “I figured. So, what in your opinion do we need to finish this?”
Storc looked pensively at Jo who still had a frown of sleepy confusion on her face. “What do you think?”
She shrugged. “Somewhere there has to be a ledger detailing the use of the funds.”
Storc nodded. “The operation is too big to be working on a cash basis. There needs to be some sort of accounting system in place.”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Scott said. “And we aren’t going to find that in the INTEL backup.”
Jo looked confused. “So, you want us to stop working on the NIDCC? After all that work?”
“No. We need that,” Scott said, shaking his head vehemently. “Unless we know what the agencies are doing, we can’t move freely…we’ll always have to keep one eye on the door.”
“What then?” Storc asked. “We don’t have the resources to run a search for a mystery accounting firm and hack the NIDCC. And if we tried, the bandwidth would probably give us away.”
“But we do have the resources,” Scott replied with a smile. “We have more than a hundred billion resources. Ten safe houses, thirty-five data relay centers, thousands of proxy sites all over the world, and living on the lamb for a little more than two months hasn’t even scratched the varnish on the money we’re sitting on.”
Storc shook his head. “We can’t hire people. And we can’t run so much internet activity out of one location. The signal load will make us stick out like a linebacker at the ballet.”
“I know. But we don’t have to all be in the same place.”
Jo and Storc looked at each other, worry and shock on their faces. “You want to split us up?”
Scott shook his head for several seconds then replied to the contrary. “Yes.”
Storc rubbed his face. “I don’t like it. We rely on each other, and if we split up how are we going to coordinate attacks on both sets of systems.”
“We don’t have systems to attack the accountants yet,” Scott said. “So, until we do, it’s a moot point.”
“But we’ll still have to search for it,” Jo said, leaning forward so far Storc thought she would fall out of the chair.
“I’ll do that…it’s going to require a HUMINT Operation that neither of you would be involved in anyway.”
Storc and Jo looked at each other again. “So, you mean you’re leaving, and you want us to continue trying to hack the NIDCC?”
“Sort of,” Sc
ott said. “We’re eventually going to crack it…I hope. And when we do, we can’t have everyone together. We need to make ourselves smaller targets.”
Storc nodded. “I get it. Fifteen dudes in a house with only one female would look a little culty to the neighbors.”
“Hopefully, the neighbors haven’t seen enough to think anything…but yes.”
Jo shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either, but we’re all wanted now…except for Nick and John, and only then because everyone thinks they’re dead.”
Storc smiled with pride, having been the who hacked the hospital computers and declared John and Nick deceased.
“You don’t think it’s more dangerous sending everyone into the wind?” Jo asked. “Not everyone is as good at this counterinsurgency, spy bullshit as you, Nick, and John.”
Scott nodded. “Well, so far the SEALs have proven to be pretty good at it. Every data center we’ve had them set up has worked out, and they haven’t exposed themselves.”
“Yeah, with us walking them through every step,” Jo said.
Storc could tell she was resisting this idea.
“Yes, and we’d still be able to do that. I’m not talking about sending everyone a separate direction…I’m talking about splitting us into three teams. One tech, one CIA, and four SEALs per team, more or less.”
Storc looked at Jo again, tension rising as he realized that meant the two of them would be split up. Jo just shook her head.
Scott stared at them, shifting his gaze back and forth between them for several long seconds. Storc took a deep breath as if he were about to dive into a pool—and in some regards, that’s exactly how it felt. He nodded. “You’re right.”
Jo’s head snapped around, glaring at him. “What?! You can’t be serious.”
“Scott’s right. This is real, and we’re at constant risk of being discovered, all of us together like this.”
“All it would take is for them to get lucky one time and our whole operation is dead,” Scott added.