“It implies a security breach somewhere.”
“It sure as hell does. I’ll check my e-mails for the dates and sequences. Check yours, and let me know what you discover.”
“Consider it done. We’ll talk later today.”
Mercante disconnected the call. He opened his e-mail application and searched his e-mail folders. He was unable to find the communications to and from Abrahams that he so clearly remembered. He checked his deleted e-mails and his inbox again. He could find nothing from Abrahams dated after the end of the previous month.
“Damn,” Mercante said. “This is getting ridiculous.” He had the printed report. He had an excellent recollection of the exchange of messages. Someone was rigging the books. But how had they known he would e-mail Abrahams after the man had left the Agency? Mercante tried to recall the details when he sent the first e-mail. He’d mentioned to someone he wanted a target assessment report. That person had suggested Abrahams. If only he could remember…
He pushed the thought aside. Perhaps he did have enemies who were exceptionally smart. Or maybe the answers were simple. Midway’s property had been vacant; it was likely Midway and his people had left unexpectedly. The weapon was another story, though. How had Midway obtained equipment which was more advanced than what the army had? More importantly, why weren’t the details included in the assessment?
He phoned his contact again. “Yeah, it’s me. I think you can forget about my questions. Something else has come up that’s more critical.” He listened. “Okay. When this is over, we should catch up. Thanks.”
He planned to investigate and solve the problem on his own. It was safer this way. For him.
~~~
Mercante was not aware his searches had triggered a simple algorithm. The tiny software routine was self-deleting and it disappeared once its mission was completed. Shortly, someone, somewhere, received a brief note providing the mailbox identity and the search keywords.
~~~
Later in the same day, a passenger presented his boarding card to the flight attendant in business class. She read his name and seat details.
“Welcome on board, Mr. McCarr. Your seat’s here, by the window. I hope you enjoy your trip with us.” She smiled, her white teeth gleaming. “Let me know if you require any assistance. Let me take your overcoat and jacket. I’ll hang them up. You’ll want them back when we arrive. London’s almost as cold as DC.”
McCarr surrendered his heavy outer garments after emptying the pockets. London he knew very well. He had chores to do once he arrived; activities that would help keep out the cold. He sat down, fastened his seat belt, and accepted the English newspaper delivered by the flight attendant. He declined the glass of fizzy wine disguised as champagne. He planned to read for a short while, after which he would sleep.
~~~
Mark found Anna and said, “Here’s your coat. Let’s walk in the gardens.”
“But it’s raining.” She frowned as she looked out the window. Beads of rain were following each other down the glass, racing faster as they joined with others.
“It’s not bad. I need some fresh air. Come on, the fire will still be here when you return.”
Anna reluctantly accepted her jacket. It was insulated and adequate against most of the cold wind blowing outside. For walking on the muddy ground, it was de rigeur to wear wellies, rubber boots properly called wellingtons, that reached up past her knees. Hers were green, decorated with colorful daisies. Anna hung onto Mark as she struggled with the boots. When she stood, he straightened her collar.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Outside,” he replied.
Anna waited until they were a hundred yards or more away from the house. It was mid-afternoon and the only person in sight was one of the gardeners. The trees were trying to push out green buds and there were promises some would shortly succeed in their annual chore despite the weather. She assumed she and Mark were on video; someone would be watching from the security room. She kept her face down and said, “Now tell me, what’s the matter?”
“I spoke with Maeve. The DNA match confirms Reb and I are siblings. The firearm residue test suggested the traces were probably months old.”
“I think Reb’s been worrying, at least about the DNA. She’ll be pleased. I know she’s missing her ocean life. I’m not sure she’ll wish to stay with us.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“Reb is feeling lost. She sees you and me together, and it emphasizes how alone she is. We had a chat and she offered us her support. Your sister is still recovering from her gunshot wound. She’s worried about her three friends in London and more than anything, wants to be back at sea. She’s lost in London.” Anna looked around. “And here, wherever we are, as nice as it is.”
“That’s very strange—the last part, I mean. I have no inclination to navigate a small boat, none at all. It’s wet enough, here. We’ll organize something for her friends. I don’t want to rush it; something tells me to be cautious. We need to care for her, make sure she can do whatever she wants.”
“I’ve something else to tell you. Reb hasn’t been forthcoming, but she’s said enough for me to know she had problems with the Chairman when she was on his yacht.”
“What? What kind of problems?”
“Abuse. I don’t know anything more.”
“Try to find out, in case she needs our help.”
“I will. Now just relax. As for Reb…you know, the simplest approach might be to talk to her.”
“Hmm.” Mark turned and led the way back to the house.
***
Chapter 25
When Mark and Anna returned to the house, Scott said, “An official-looking vehicle’s about to stop at the front door. The passenger must be important. A driver and a guard, too, I think. Where do you want to talk to him?”
Mark shrugged. “If someone’s driven here to meet with us, we should be courteous. Use the formal sitting room. I’ll see what he wants, and if necessary I’ll add you or Anna, whoever needs to be in the meeting.”
Three minutes later Scott again spoke to Mark, a grin on his face. “I’ve directed the driver and guard to the kitchen. I’m sure Mrs. Carroll will take care of them. Your visitor is waiting for you. Colonel Evelyn Hudson, British Army.”
Mark headed to the room where the officer was waiting. She was dressed in civilian clothes with a military touch: neatly pressed dark green slacks and a lighter green turtleneck sweater. Her brown hair was cut short and she wore minimal makeup. Mark assessed her age to be late forties. She was standing to one side of the room, examining a painting of a group of eighteenth-century cavalry officers. She turned as Mark entered the room.
“Mr. Midway?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Colonel Evelyn Hudson. Please call me Evelyn.” She held out her hand.
“Call me Mark.” He shook her hand. “Please sit, Colonel—er—Evelyn.”
She sat on the edge of the chair, straight-backed. She gave Mark an appraising look, searching his face, then sighed.
She said, “You’re not the Chairman, are you?”
Mark did not hide his bafflement. “Me? No way. Whatever made you think that?”
“You can prove you’re not him?”
“Uh, prove a negative? Wait, in this case, I probably can.” He mentally reached out to Gabrielle. Please ask Scott, Anna and Reb to join me in the formal sitting room.
Gabrielle’s whisper affirmed she would carry out his request. Mark continued the conversation with Hudson. “Why do you need this proof?”
“I’ll give you the answer when you provide validation.”
Reb entered first, followed by Anna and Scott. He felt Gabrielle’s presence. He heard her whisper. She’s Cerberus.
His three friends regarded Mark with curiosity as he carried out introductions. He explained, “The colonel asked me a question and I’d like to hear how each of you would answer it. Evelyn, please repe
at your question.”
She faced Mark and said, “Can you validate you’re not the Chairman?”
Shock and disbelief vied for supremacy on Reb’s face, then she started to laugh, the sound bordering on hysteria. Anna took her hand. Scott was silent, speechless for once in his career.
At last Reb recovered control. “The-the Chairman is—was—at least twice Mark’s age. And he was cruel, not kind. He died, I think, on board his yacht when pirates sank it in January.”
Scott added, “I’ve known Mark long enough to be certain he’s not the Chairman.”
“Not only that,” Anna said, “any one of us would shoot the Chairman on sight, if he’s alive.”
Hudson looked at each speaker in turn, then turned back to Mark. “Alright, I’ll withdraw the question. Now tell me, if you can, why twenty of my soldiers are AWOL, at the command of someone who claims he is the Chairman of Cerberus. The details I’ve garnered so far are vague, but your name was also mentioned.”
“Tell us more,” Mark said.
“I have an operational role and included in my responsibilities are two companies, with about two hundred and fifty young Cerberus recruits. Yes, I’m Cerberus, too.”
“I know,” Mark said.
Hudson did not hide her surprise. “How would you?”
Mark shrugged. “We can discuss the details, later. I’m not the Chairman, but I will be assuming strategic responsibility for Cerberus UK. Believe me, I haven’t ordered or requested members of any military unit to report to me.”
“So what the hell is going on?”
“Please tell us why you came here,” Anna said.
“One of my captains, an effective and dependable officer, came to me early today and told me we were missing twenty soldiers, ten each from my two companies. One company specializes in target acquisition and surveillance and the other has a mechanized infantry focus. Both are due to deploy to Germany in thirty days as part of a NATO build-up; the Russians are saber-rattling again. I’ve suppressed details of these absences, to protect my soldiers, but I can’t delay beyond twenty-four hours—forty-eight at the utmost. My captain said he heard comments such as ‘the Chairman is back,’ ‘recalled by the Chairman,’ and ‘it’s Midway.’ When I heard your name, I checked with a couple of the senior Cerberus management team and they told me you were here. They also told me they thought the Chairman had been killed in some kind of pirate attack. It’s all unverifiable, however.”
Scott said, “Interesting times.”
“Absolutely,” Hudson said.
“Reb, please tell the colonel what you know,” Mark said.
Reb was silent for a moment, then she proceeded to describe her role on Hammer and the yacht’s recent travels at the direction of the Chairman. She concluded with a description of the attack off the Spanish coast and her sailboard escape. “I heard shootings and screams before I launched the sailboard. The pirates blew up the yacht and I think they headed out into the Atlantic. I was on the sailboard for twelve hours, until the crew of a small tourist boat rescued me. They took me to Gibraltar.” Reb shrugged. “I assumed the Chairman was killed. I have no proof, though.” Anna was still holding her hand.
“Hmm. A reasonable assumption. Although the pirates might have taken him prisoner for some purpose we can’t guess,” said the colonel. She took a deep breath. “Very well. So you’re not the Chairman,” she said, looking at Mark. “But your name was mentioned. Any idea why?”
Anna spoke up. “We—those of us in the younger Cerberus generations—have heard a lot about Mark. To some of us, perhaps all of us, he’s somewhat of a hero.” She blushed. “It’s almost a folklore thing.”
“How old are these people, the missing twenty?” Mark asked.
“Very young. Maturity age is eighteen, chrono is twelve. They’ve completed basic training.”
“They were raised under Cerberus care and dropped straight into the military?
“Yes, they’ve followed the typical process.”
“No one checked whether they wanted to be soldiers?”
“No.” The word was drawn out.
Gabrielle uncloaked herself. “Lots of us younger Cerberus don’t want to be in the military. You won’t ever see me do military service.”
“Where did—who are you?” Hudson asked.
“Gabrielle is one of our young members. Gabrielle, this is Colonel Evelyn Hudson.”
Gabrielle gave an almost curtsy. “I apologize for interrupting,” she said. “But I think I know why your soldiers have…gone AWOL. If they’re like me or Niland, they’ll be highly intelligent and they’ve been hiding a lot of their abilities. Some, maybe a lot, don’t want to be military recruits. I think they’re a delegation on their way to talk to Mark.”
Hudson studied Gabrielle, who was standing confidently in front of her. “I’d like to have a long talk with you, to learn more about the new generations. In light of what you’ve told me, I understand your expectation.” She turned back to Mark. “I apologize for my earlier assumption.” She offered him a business card. “If they arrive here, and I daresay they will, can you let me know? It will take a worry off my mind.”
Mark accepted the officer’s card. “Of course. We’ll do everything we can to safeguard these soldiers. I suppose they should return to their units and use more formal ways to take their leave.”
“Yes, thank you. We can work out ways to do so without creating a major issue.”
“You realize, as Gabrielle suggested, they’ll probably arrive as a delegation for Mark to address. What if your new Cerberus recruits want to do something else? If they want to resign, for example?” Anna asked.
“You would raise that specter, wouldn’t you?” Hudson sat back in the chair. She was starting to relax. “I’d like you—Mark—to assist me, to work out how we can give these young people a career that fulfills their needs. I’m unsure how we’d handle two hundred and fifty resignations, though.” She turned to Gabrielle. “Do you think all of the younger Cerberus are anti-military? Or would they just like to have a choice?”
Niland appeared in the room. “I wouldn’t mind a military career. I think I’d be good in a military role, perhaps in the Navy. But we need a choice.”
“Goodness, how many more of you are hiding here?”
Mark chuckled. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized Niland was here. We have one more member on our team, whom I’ll introduce later. She’s in our security room, monitoring external security cameras. The only young children we have with us are Niland and Gabrielle. They and Anna survived a mass killing where we lost a lot of Cerberus children.”
“I heard about that,” Hudson said.
“Please stay and join us for dinner. I heard your escorts are enjoying some of our housekeeper’s cooking.” Anna said. “You can talk to Gabrielle and Niland—me too, if you like. I’m probably a little older than your recruits and these two are obviously younger. We’d help you understand a lot about your soldiers and what motivates them.”
Hudson considered the request for a moment. “I’d love to.”
~~~
Later, after the army officer had left, and they were preparing for bed, Anna said to Mark, “Do you think these young soldiers will come here?”
“I’m certain. Now, what was your comment? Oh, ‘He’s somewhat of a hero.’ And that from the person who shot the murderers of a Cerberus military company and all those children.”
Anna blushed again. “You are my hero. I thought you knew?”
Mark laughed. “It’s only folklore.”
Anna dug him in the ribs. “Just you wait,” she said.
Mark held her hands. “There is one thing that worries me. The mention of the Chairman. ‘The Chairman is back’. If he wasn’t killed by those pirates…”
“Reb has doubts. I was holding her hand while she was describing her escape from the pirates and she was scared. She may have thought he was killed when she left the yacht, but she never saw his body.”
***
Chapter 26
The man called McCarr—at least his passport carried that name—awoke refreshed after his first night in London. At eight a.m. he was ready to leave the hotel to carry out his self-imposed task, something that would give him leverage, he hoped, and advance him in this game. He had contacted two people he had worked with previously and arranged to meet them at a small pub near their eventual destination. Both men were seated at a table in the restaurant area of the pub when he arrived.
“Dr. Sutter, how are you? And you, Miles? Good to see you both. Have you ordered? No? May I suggest the English breakfast? It’s excellent.” Sutter, a tired remnant of a man, was dressed in a scruffy three-piece suit. He cross-combed his hair to hide an ever-growing bald patch; the subterfuge was worse than the reality. The second man, Miles, wore an anonymous uniform. His hair was long and unkempt. While he was clean-shaven, some change would need to be applied to the definition of clean.
With little comment, the three men ate their breakfast. It was close to ten a.m. when they left the pub. McCarr said, “Miles, you have the transport I requested?”
“Yes, it’s a private ambulance. Anonymous, as you requested. It will accommodate three, er, bodies.”
McCarr handed him a card. “Drive to this location. Park nearby. Wait near the front of the building until I signal you. No sirens. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Sutter, you can accompany me. I’ll drop you back here, when we’re finished.”
Their destination was an older building south of the Thames. Constructed with red bricks, the building had a discouraged, disused air. The only clue to its possible use were faded letters along the front.
Sutter read the words and nudged McCarr. “Got religion, have you?”
McCarr growled, “It’s changed ownership a number of times, I believe.” McCarr had parked his rental vehicle in a side street, hoping the lack of a resident’s permit would not attract the attention of a parking enforcement officer. He pressed the large button beside the front door and waited patiently. He pressed it again. There were no footsteps or any other noise from within the building. He pressed the button for a third time, holding it down for nearly a minute. No response.
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