Payback

by Vanessa Kier

  Not that Siobahn’s article had gone into great detail. It merely suggested that the missing personnel had been kidnapped, and implied that people in several branches of the government had been involved in faking the men’s deaths and funneling them into the superhuman soldier program. However, Siobahn hadn’t pointed the finger at any one particular organization being in charge. Or given details about the scientific program.

  On the other hand, when Faith had finally cracked the encryption on Toby’s second flash drive, she’d found documents linking the scientific program to a group called Kerberos, run out of the CIA. Toby believed people within the DOD and the law enforcement community had been working with Kerberos to choose men for the program.

  Suspecting both the DOD and the CIA of involvement in Toby’s disappearance had made Faith even more paranoid. To the point that simply leaving the cabin for this short trip to the bay had her jumping at shadows, although her instincts told her she’d escaped detection so far.

  To avoid being tracked via facial recognition software run on security camera images, Faith had used the costuming skills she’d learned while acting in school plays during junior high and high school. Thankfully, she’d insisted that any safe house Toby set up contain a wide range of disguises for them both in case they needed to leave the cabin.

  Thank you, Mrs. Kukei. The woman in charge of Faith’s high school drama department had made certain all her actors became competent at changing their own appearances, whether through costuming or makeup. While Faith hadn’t acted in years, she’d often used the techniques she’d learned in order to keep her identity hidden when under threat from foreign governments or other groups who hadn’t wanted her to reveal the truth.

  Today Faith had gone with a simple disguise. She wore an oversized, floppy hat that tied underneath her chin and hid all of her hair. Not only did the wide brim add shadows to her face, but the attached scarf covered her ears and jawline. Large sunglasses in tourist Day-Glo green protected her eyes.

  “Okay. Here it is,” Siobahn said. “Hmm…right. I went down to Fort Bragg to meet a contact while researching my article. As he was walking me back to my car, we caught sight of a group of special ops guys heading back onto base from some mission in the woods. Before they realized we were within earshot, I overheard one of the men complain about their training exercise being cut short due to those freaky guys from Kerberos. I turned to my friend and asked him what Kerberos was, but he claimed not to recognize the name.” Siobahn’s loud, frustrated sigh made Faith smile.

  “In fact,” Siobahn continued, “everyone I asked after that either denied having heard of Kerberos or clammed up and told me to leave it alone because it was too dangerous. Since I couldn’t find corroboration, I had to leave the name out of my article. Does that help?”

  The hairs on the back of Faith’s neck quivered. “Yes, I think so. A few of the missing military personnel Toby had been investigating were later seen in training exercises conducted by a secretive group of soldiers.” Her brother had speculated that the members of that secret team had been experimental, superhuman soldiers.

  “Toby claimed that Kerberos is a top-secret black ops group run out of the CIA by Wayne Jamieson, the CIA’s Director of In-House Projects.”

  “Figures the CIA would be involved.”

  “Yeah. Toby’s notes indicated that Kerberos is Jamieson’s private organization and hinted that not even his superiors at the CIA know the full reach of Kerberos. Toby heard rumors that Kerberos provides elite assassination squads and military style units comprised mostly of graduates from the superhuman soldier program. But he hadn’t been able to locate the program or determine who provided Kerberos’s teams with assignments.” If Faith could locate the freaks those soldiers at Fort Bragg had been talking about, maybe one of them would lead her to where Toby was being held.

  “I wonder…” Siobahn said.

  “What?” Faith heard the rustling of paper over the line.

  “Four of the missing men in my article were found in remote towns near military bases. The men were crazed. Filled with such violent rage that a few observers suspected they were rabid.”

  Which matched what Toby had discovered. “You think maybe they got separated from a Kerberos team?” Faith asked. “If so, wouldn’t someone have gone looking for them?”

  “Not necessarily. The men had already been declared dead.” Siobahn’s voice vibrated with the energy that came from being on the trail of a juicy story. “If they really were part of Kerberos, by the time they ended up under observation by civilians, it would be too much of a risk for their commanding officers, if Kerberos even has such a thing, to claim them. Better to write them off as collateral damage, then go in and secretly destroy the records and the wayward men. Two of the missing men from my article were admitted to hospitals, one was taken to jail, and one was spotted by local law enforcement but eluded capture. Within a week, all the subjects were dead, their bodies gone, and no records left that they’d ever been found. Most of the people who had initial contact with the freaky men also died shortly after in suspicious accidents. The only reason I learned about what happened was that several of the first responders were scared into hiding. One of them later contacted me and put me in touch with the others. Through their statements, and thanks to copies of records a number of them had made, I was able to match identities of the men they’d seen to those from my list of military personnel who’d been declared dead.”

  Faith’s heart sank. “Yes. That matches Toby’s research. He found a few escapees. Based on their symptoms, and testimony from others involved in the scientific program, the treatment given to the men resulted in insanity and rage. None had survived their encounters with the outside world. Either they’d killed themselves or been killed when law enforcement tried to capture them.” Her gut screamed that she was fast running out of time to find Toby. She wished his notes included some sort of timeline regarding how long men lasted in this program.

  Did she have days? Weeks? Hours?

  Faith bit her lip and shoved her fear for her brother aside. Siobahn’s story only proved how severe a threat the men running Kerberos posed. She hated putting her friend further into danger, but she couldn’t do this alone. “I need to talk with your contact at Fort Bragg.”

  “Faith, this was four months ago. Teams rotate in and out of there on a daily basis. The odds of the Kerberos team still being there are small. Besides, my friend isn’t stationed at Fort Bragg any more. He was on a short-term assignment and is now working at the Pentagon. Without a contact on the inside, you’ll never get the information you want.”

  Faith grinned. “That’s why I have you. Ms. My-Dad-Is-A-Four-Star-General.”

  “Retired.”

  “Like that makes any difference.”

  “You’re right. Dad could get you access. But with the heightened security in place these days, I don’t think he can arrange for you to talk to people fast enough for what you need.”

  Faith ground her teeth, hating that her friend was right. “So what do you suggest, Siobahn? Because I’m at my wit’s end. This is my brother’s life I’m talking about. Think about how you’d react if one of your brothers went missing.”

  Siobahn sighed. “Tell you what, I’ll ask Dad and my brothers if they’ve ever heard of Kerberos, freaky soldiers, or Wayne Jamieson. Have them discretely put the word out. Okay?”

  “Yes. Thanks. And Siobahn, please, be extra careful. Toby wouldn’t have been easy to take down, yet they got him. I don’t want you to go missing, too.”

  Her friend’s deep, reckless laugh made Faith remember too late that warning Siobahn away from danger had always sent her running forward instead. “Never mind, it’s not as if you pay any attention to personal safety when you’re hot on a story,” Faith grumbled, earning another laugh from Siobahn.

  “Pot. Kettle,” Siobahn pointed out. “You wouldn’t be sticking your nose into this matter against your brother’s advice if part of you didn’t
thrive on danger. You’d have turned the investigation over to the authorities if you wanted to stay safe. Maybe now you’ll finally realize that you were born to be a journalist. I want you back on the team when this is all over.”

  “Siobahn,” Faith said, lacing the word with exasperation.

  “I’m serious, kiddo. Think about it. I’ll call when I can. Ciao.”

  “How is he doing?” Dr. Leonard Kaufmann asked his lead scientist as he nodded toward the room where Toby Andrews was being given another injection of the drugs that would open him to mind control.

  “His extensive training on how to resist torture has been a difficult obstacle to overcome, sir. However, it appears that we have finally found the right combination of physical torture and poisons to weaken him so that our drugs can break through his resistance.”

  “Excellent.” Kaufmann had been reluctant to add the former military intelligence officer to the program. Not only because of the man’s training, but because as an officer, the man was used to being an authority figure. The men who adapted easiest to the mind control protocols were those in subordinate positions who already had an innate need to please their commanders.

  Still, as he’d proven with SSU agent Rafe Andros, it was possible to break down an unsuitable prospect and turn him into an obedient soldier. All that was required was to find the correct key for breaking the subject’s spirit. Then conditioning proceeded at the usual rate.

  Now, if only the scientists could control the rages and put a stop to the physical deterioration that rendered his soldiers useless after four months, they’d have a highly profitable commodity to sell on the international market. He really would need to ask Jamieson about capturing Dr. Montague and returning her to the program. She’d been so close to making a breakthrough before she’d fled after discovering what he’d really been using her research for.

  With the anniversary demonstration for the President coming up soon, he needed all the enhanced soldiers he could create. Those already in the field would have deteriorated past the point of usefulness by the time the date for the demonstration arrived. Having Dr. Montague back would not only hopefully lead to the stability he required, but from what he understood, the woman had been given access to the research data from Dr. Nevsky’s microchip. Data which would allow Kaufmann to further refine his formula.

  He scowled. His former boss should have trusted him with the backup data from the superhuman soldier program, instead of implanting the chip in his daughter’s abdomen. It had taken two years after Nevsky’s death for the microchip to be found, but it had ended up in the hands of the do-gooder Surgical Strike Unit instead of Kerberos. Leaving Kaufmann struggling to catch up to where Nevsky had been before his death.

  Andrews’s scream filtered through the examination room door. Kaufmann shook his head. That was another aspect of the program he’d have to work on. The pain of the drugs hitting the bloodstream resulted in agonizing screams. Since he intended to set up clinics in regular hospitals and office buildings in order to turn out his custom made soldiers, spies and assassins, he didn’t want to have to soundproof all his rooms.

  “Tell me, doctor,” he began, taking the scientist’s arm and leading him away from Andrews’s room. “Will you have Andrews ready in time to participate in the President’s demonstration?”

  The man glanced back at the room just as Andrews gave another piercing shriek of agony. Nodding thoughtfully, the scientist replied, “Yes. It sounds as if his resistance is breaking as planned. I do believe he will be ready in time.”

  “Excellent.”

  Chapter Two

  Four Days Later

  A Small Tourist Town on the Chesapeake Bay

  Faith sank back into the shadows of the alley, staying hidden while she watched the restaurant where Wayne Jamieson was having dinner.

  Even she had to admit that being here tonight was one of the more rash moves of her life. When Toby included a photo, background and daily schedule information for Jamieson in his notes, he’d probably never imagined that one day his sister would start following the man. But Faith had reached a new level of desperation.

  Her inquiries had hit nothing but brick walls lately.

  She had a lot of valuable data, but no smoking gun to bring down Kerberos or help her locate her brother. The people she’d talked to either had never heard of Kerberos, refused to acknowledge they’d ever heard the name despite every indication to the contrary, or knew the name and had nothing but a few rumors to add.

  Siobahn’s investigation had also ground to a halt. Her father and brothers claimed not to have heard of Kerberos or Jamieson. Even her contact who’d overheard the reference to the freaky soldiers at Fort Bragg refused to discuss the group any further.

  Unable to think of any other way to get the data she needed, Faith had started following Jamieson, using the training Toby had given her on how to covertly follow a target. Unfortunately, Jamieson was paranoid and always traveled with several bodyguards.

  Because she was naturally messy—her hair never stayed neatly confined no matter how tightly she braided it or how much hairspray she used—Faith knew she more resembled a dazed hippie than a focused assassin. So she’d kept her disguises artsy and disheveled. The few times she’d passed within view of Jamieson’s bodyguards, they’d given her an initial sharply assessing glance, then moved on. Even so, they were well-trained and wary of anyone getting within striking distance of their boss. Once, a teenager on a skateboard had veered to within a few feet of Jamieson as the man was being hustled by the guards between his car and an office building. Faith had watched in horror as the guards spotted the teenager and reached for their guns. Luckily, the sidewalk had been busy and the guards hadn’t actually pulled out their weapons, just kept their hands inside their jacket pockets until the oblivious boy changed direction and sped away.

  Still, it had served as a warning not to get too close. Which was frustrating the hell out of Faith. She needed to catch Jamieson engaged either in conversation or in action that tied him to Toby and the missing personnel. Breaking into his office at the CIA was out of the question. His home security was beyond her ability to crack, although she had no doubt that her brother could have broken into Jamieson’s house. She’d gone so far as to buy an electronic listening device at a spy store, but hadn’t been able to get close enough to Jamieson to plant it on him.

  Having followed Jamieson for several days, she recognized that he was too dangerous for her to confront. But tonight, an elegantly handsome man with dark hair and eyes had greeted Jamieson as the CIA director exited his chauffeured town car. After a curt nod to the stranger and a quick glance around the deserted parking lot, Jamieson strode into the restaurant with an arrogance that indicated he clearly expected his visitor to follow. Which he had.

  Faith hoped the other man would be an easier target. She fingered Toby’s pistol in her pocket, and tamped down her nerves and the revulsion at being in possession of a gun again. But desperation left her no choice.

  Still, she hoped she wouldn’t have to shoot. Her plan was to get Jamieson’s companion alone and question him about Kerberos. Hopefully, the man would be able to provide information that would lead her to where Toby was being held.

  If not, then… She blew out a breath. Well, she really didn’t want to think past that. She’d rather wonder if the men were right now discussing Kerberos and the fate of more innocent men. If she stormed in there waving her gun and demanded to know where Toby was, would she see surprise on their faces? Or scorn?

  Of course, a face-to-face showdown with Jamieson would be suicidal. He’d have her killed before she could speak her first word. So she’d resigned herself to lurking until Jamieson’s companion exited the restaurant.

  And prayed that he had the answers she needed.

  “Hold it right there.”

  The young woman who stepped out of the shadows was the last person Mark Tonelli would expect to hold a gun on him. As his eyes flicked over her g
enerously curved, petite body and her wildly curling, dark red hair that spilled from beneath a tribal print scarf, all he could think of was that he was being mugged by a woman who looked like a first grade art teacher.

  A very pissed off, yet very sexy first grade art teacher. She wore a gauzy, patchwork skirt over black and green striped leggings that bagged slightly at the ankles, and thick-soled, ugly shoes. He would have thought her a homeless person, except that her clothes appeared to be clean and in excellent condition.

  Which, given the way his body had jolted into sexual awareness the second he heard her voice, was a good thing. He would not allow himself to lust after a transient. No matter how sweet yet sexy her voice sounded.

  Mark frowned at the direction of his thoughts. He didn’t find untidy women attractive. He liked sleek, sophisticated women. But he couldn’t deny that he was turned on by this young woman wearing, of all things, a thick hand knit cardigan that sprouted tissues from its pockets. He couldn’t stop staring in fascination at the place where the buttons strained to keep the edges of the sweater together, forming a gap between her breasts that he desperately wanted to investigate.

  He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? It was dark. He’d just been chewed out by his boss, CIA Director of In-House Projects Wayne Jamieson. He had better things to do than stare at this woman’s chest. Like get her to put the damn gun away. And move her out of sight of the restaurant entrance before Jamieson and his guards exited.

  Her hand shook from supporting the weight of the pistol—a Glock 21 that was much too heavy and too big for her small hand—and he didn’t trust her not to accidentally shoot him. Amateur.

  The thought lacked his usual bite when considering those less skilled than himself. He must be more tired than he realized. That was the only logical explanation he could give as to why he hadn’t already disarmed her.