The Shadow's Code

by Miles Goodson

  “Bill, good morning, we were just waiting for you.”

  “You’re sat in my chair…in my office,” Bill replied, gripping his files and hunching forward. James realised his mistake; he wasn’t back at Langley, he couldn’t swan around however he liked here.

  “My mistake Bill, I got in early and well, I needed a clear space to work. I’ll move.” James picked up a few files and sat next to the mystery man.

  “So what do I owe the pleasure gentlemen?”

  James looked to his right and raised his eyebrows whilst shrugging his shoulders slightly. The man stood and held out his hand at Bill. “Roger Eghard, good to meet your sir, I don’t believe we’ve met before.” They shook hands firmly. “I’m the current Secretary to the President and I’ve come here with James to speak with you,” Roger said.

  “Ah, I thought I recognized you,” Bill lied. “Good to meet you Roger, please call me Bill.” As the formalities were dropped the men eased into a light hearted conversation about a couple of world issues and the obligatory sports conversation. They all knew this was not why Roger had visited. However this is how they conducted business, all the men were well versed in how to speak diplomatically to one another and after the football had been discussed the conversation shifted.

  “Bill, I need to know something and I don’t want to put you on the spot here but it’s not just me that wants to know, if you get my drift?” Roger always reminded people that he was the president’s ears if he was going into murky territory.

  “OK, fire away,” Bill said as he leaned back and put his hands in his lap. Roger chose to put down some groundwork before he jumped into questioning.

  “I’m one of the original circle of three at the White House for the project that James and you have been put on. Parasite is raising a few concerns.” Roger spoke carefully, every word was rehearsed.

  “I see, they never did tell me who it was at the Whitehouse that knew about this,” Bill said, whilst remaining guarded.

  “I know, look I’m here because a very good friend of mine and one of the other circle members was found dead the other day, Julie, she worked with me for 35 years.” Roger sounded sincere and Bill relaxed.

  “Well I’m sorry to hear that. I think I met Julie a few times, she was working as an advisor to the vice president last I heard.”

  “Julie had many different job titles, she was a very talented woman, a week ago she was overseeing a cyber security team at the CIA on orders of the president,” Roger said, staring at his knees. Bill noticed that Roger was genuinely upset about the loss of a friend and knew the feeling.

  “It’s a tough thing…. getting over the loss of a friend, but I’m not quite sure how all this fits with Parasite, apart from the fact she knew about it?” Roger reached in his briefcase.

  “The autopsy came back from the hospital yesterday morning. It said Julie had a heart attack. However the CIA sent in their own forensic pathologist and he reported to James this morning. They have given the result as inconclusive. There is some very detailed medical description but basically we have been told that the body’s state and some tissue damage doesn’t match a heart attack. The pathologist added a note at the bottom, it’s officially redacted but I’ve got an original copy.” Roger placed the report on the desk for Bill to see. “He states that two tissue samples from the lungs match a method of poisoning he has witnessed in two CIA field agents that were killed two years ago. It appears that the poison is airborne and if breathed in will shut down the body within an hour, making it look like a heart attack.” Bill read the file and pressed his thumb into his chin.

  “So you think she was assassinated?” he asked.

  “I do, James isn’t so sure, but he agrees that it would appear this isn’t as clear cut as a heart attack. I checked with Julie’s husband, she had gone for a run that morning, alone. I think that someone may have been able to get her to inhale the poison without her knowing. Her husband said that when she got home she told him she had bumped into another jogger who was aimlessly staring at their phone,” Roger said.

  “So you think someone poisoned her whilst she went for a jog, any idea why someone would want to kill her?” Bill’s eyebrows did a good job of trying to cross each other to convey his confusion. James jumped in.

  “All we know at the moment is that it is possible that she was killed, assassinated even,” he said before adding “We’re speculating.”

  Roger countered, “But it is my belief that she was killed, I think someone knows what we know, and found out Julie knew of the program, I think we need to find everyone involved with the program and question them.” Bill cleared his throat then weighed in.

  “What makes you so sure that the program is the reason she would have been killed?” He looked at James. “IF, indeed she has been killed at all. I mean….thirty-five years of service, there must be a lot of things she knew about. There must be lots of people who hold a grudge against her, added to which we are jumping to conclusion she was assassinated by some kind of villainous spy instead of an unfortunate accident or even a murder. What about her husband? Maybe that marriage wasn’t as happy as it seemed.” Bill shifted his weight as he realized that the conversation had gone way beyond what he was prepared to talk about. James remained silent as he broadly agreed with Bill’s objections; Roger took the opportunity to press his theory further.

  “Yeah, sure Julie knew other national secrets, but this was the most sensitive. Then there’s everything else that has happened, our friend the professor hanging from a tree, just days before he was going to give a speech that was found fully prepared in his office. Hardly the actions of a man about to kill himself, and what about the SEAL being K.I.A.? James tells me forensics has assessed the bullet, it looks like a sniper shot him, in an area where the opposition barely have a full magazine to put in their decrepit AK-47s,” Roger said.

  The room was silent for a moment as both James and Bill thought about what Roger was saying. Bill was irritated that James had given details of the SEAL’s death to Roger, whom Bill saw as nothing but a White House pen pusher. Neither had thought something like this could be happening. Bill thought of several different responses, none of which would have been much use. If this was true then the urgency to get hold of Ben and secure him just stepped up another level, but who was doing the killing? The number of people who knew about the program was in the single digits and now was three down. Could Ben really be going rogue? There was only one way to find out, they needed him, they needed to access the program and they needed to do it now.

  “Bill, I spoke to the president this morning, he has asked that James and you work together around the clock on this one, we need answers quickly,” Roger said. Bill looked towards James but not directly at him. His head began to gently nod but his facial expression remained fixed and blank. He bit down on the nails of his middle and index finger.

  “Does the president know what this project is protecting?” Bill asked.

  “He does,” Roger answered.

  “Do you know?”

  “No,” Roger admitted.

  “Well we could really do with knowing what we are hunting for, if the security clearance to view the file is above my and James’s pay grade then I really don’t know anyone that could access it but the president. Roger, do you know who else but the president really knows what ‘Parasite’ is hiding?” Bill said.

  “As far as I know, the only people that knew what the project is concealing are the retired head of the CIA, named Felix, the president and possibly Ben - Lindon as I’ve been told he calls himself now,” Roger said.

  Well, we will need to know as much as possible, would the president be able to spare some time to see us?” James asked.

  “I will see what I can do,” Roger said. He was content that he had finally hooked the two’s interest.

  “We may all be at risk here, James how likely do you think it is that Julie was killed?” Bill asked flatly. James thought for a moment.

&
nbsp; “Well at the start of the day I was 50/50, but Roger makes a strong case. I think we need to go forward thinking this was an assassination,” he said.

  “In that case, if we’re working this case, then we’re both at risk,” Bill said. He had worked on many top secret and high-risk projects during his career but never on one where any of the people who worked with him had been hurt or killed. “Right, well in that case, if I’m part of this now I’m securing my family,” Bill said. Roger and James looked at each other.

  “OK, no problem, do you want me to get some of my guys to watch your house?” James said. Bill nodded. “I’m going to speak to the local PD as well and I’m sending two of my own men from this base. James, let’s meet back here in ten minutes to see what we need to do next, I’ve got some calls to make.”

  Bill got up and walked out of the office without saying a word. He paced down the hall towards the secretary he shared with another Two Star General. James and Roger could hear him speak but couldn’t make out what they discussed. They exchanged a few words and then heard the secretary pick up the phone. James and Roger walked out towards the parking lot. Bill went back to his office and closed the door behind him; he needed to call his wife.

  Chapter 9

  Project ‘Parasite’ has a long history inside the CIA’s dark operations. The story of its inception leads back to Japan, 1945…

  Three planes lift off into the misty morning sky flying a daring mission that would result in a nuclear bomb devastating a Japanese city. Each plane had its own code name. ‘The Big Stink’ would film the bombing, ‘Bockscar’ would drop the bomb and ‘The Great Artist’ would measure the impact. After hours of flying ‘Bockscar’ and ‘The Great Artist’ regrouped over Yakushima in accordance with the mission brief but ‘The Big Stink’ hadn’t reached the rendezvous point. Minutes passed, the crews had been ordered to wait under radio silence but after forty minutes and no sign of ‘The Big Stink’ the two planes were forced to make a decision: either continue on their mission or return to base. They decided to finish their mission.

  Forty minutes behind schedule the planes reached Kokura. They circled, the weather was poor, too poor to navigate and drop the bomb and so with depleted fuel, the crew went to their alternative city, Nagasaki. The crew of ‘Bockscar’ would now only have enough fuel to return to base if they emptied their payload. Nagasaki was devastated an hour later.

  The official story of the attack omits the top-secret mission flown by ‘The Big Stink’. This is the beginning of project Parasite.

  ‘Parasite’ was the name given to the mission that ‘The Big Stink’ flew. That mission was to drop a prototype bomb onto the Emperor of Japan’s gardens. It was an atomic bomb that did not explode at an altitude or upon hitting the ground but via a remote trigger. The trigger was activated upon the entry of a code. This was America’s greatest bargaining chip in their campaign to force Japan into surrender. For thousands of years the Emperor’s gardens had been a sanctuary for the incumbent leader of Japan. Each Emperor had gone there to contemplate tough decisions for his people. It was a ritual and it was sacred. The land had not been stepped on by anyone who was not an Emperor or one of the monks that the Emperor entrusted to maintain the land for more than a thousand years. The bomb was called ‘The Founding Father’. When it dropped onto the gardens it created a twelve-foot crater in the ground. America knew that Japan was a worthy foe and was unlikely to relent easily. This secret mission placed the Emperor in a compromised position. If he stayed at war, the Emperor’s gardens and all the history it holds would be destroyed. Culturally this would be devastating and the consequences would be significant not just in the loss of morale to soldiers but the knowledge that Japan would always bear a scar for generations to come. Shortly after the attacks at Nagasaki the War Commission reconvened. They continued to plan attacks on America; an hour later the President of the United States of America sent a telegram addressed to the Emperor. That day Japan did the unthinkable and surrendered. Citizens openly wept in the streets, soldiers committed suicide and the Emperor’s position as the heart of Japan was lost. The bomb was left in place but Truman gave his word that the Emperor would not be ousted and the sacred garden would not be destroyed as long as Japan became an ally.

  It was a successful strategy and, in 1950, one that America would use again in securing oil contracts with Saudi Arabia when they agreed to a 50-50 split on profits after threatening to pull the plug on American exploration. Saudi Arabia had no choice. A USAF plane had dropped its payload in the King’s city on the morning of a deal being agreed. This one was called ‘Bald Eagle’ and it was identical to the weapon used against Japan.

  Over the next sixty years, America changed tactics; it now used its weapon covertly, and had placed over twenty around the world without host countries knowing. But there was one problem. If anyone found out about the program and knew where the codes were hidden they could devastate the world and turn America into a pariah state. The codes for the bombs were first kept in a vault in Area 51 under the main runway. The vault was a mix of concrete and Kevlar, reinforced enough to withstand several bomb blasts.

  In the early 80s the head of the CIA made a bold decision. Instead of digitalizing the codes he organized a team to find a way to secure the codes beyond the reach of any hacker or spy. Donald Felix began to research the most secure method to hide the codes for each and every bomb the USA had planted.

  For years the codes and projects that protected them were a success but there was a problem. After the attacks on Nagasaki a man named Yoshimitzu Kamitoze had sworn revenge on America. He was a cousin of the Emperor and when the blast hit Nagasaki Yoshimitzu was in the outskirts of the city working on a military project for the government. As the blast hit he witnessed his city turn to dust. Everyone he knew was gone including his wife and two children. As the dust settled the bustling city was now nothing more than a ruin. The spine chilling silence haunted him for years. Yoshimitzu fled the city and headed for Tokyo. On the way he had heard of his country’s surrender and he was now desperate to see his cousin. Japan fought under a war rule, Kamikaze. This meant fighting until death; there was no surrender. When he reached Tokyo the Emperor was distraught; he explained to Yoshimitzu what had happened. The weapon that had been used against Japan was shown to Yoshimitzu. The two hatched a secret plan; whilst the Emperor still had powers he ordered one final act of war. A team was assembled to help Yoshimitzu get revenge for Imperial Japan; the funding would be funneled through several government bodies to a ‘dark team’. No one but the Emperor and Yoshimitzu knew of the plan and the new government of Japan could never know what they were funding. Two days later Yoshimitzu left Japan for America where he started a new life. His mission from that day was simple. Return the bomb to America and devastate Washington D.C. with it.

  Chapter 10

  Lindon walked home from a downtown restaurant. His route home was planned; he knew where the cameras were, the blind spots and the dark zones. As he neared his apartment he began to experience the same sinking feeling that hit him every time he attempted to live a normal life. He felt alone, and although he had enjoyed travelling the world in his early twenties, he was now starting to think about slowing down. No more running, no more hiding.

  He thought of his retreat in north Sweden, he had been meaning to pay a visit for over two years. He felt free there, surrounded by forests of tall trees that glowed white in the winter sun as the frozen snow clung to the branches. Five years ago he had built his property there but he had spent barely a few weeks there since.

  As Lindon arrived at the corner of his apartment block, he looked over his shoulder, then swung his chin left and right, scouring around him to make sure he was alone. Lindon walked into the hallway and up the stairs to his apartment. His mind wandered again to the Swedish cabin.

  The property was basic but well appointed. Heating was provided by a wood-burning fireplace and under floor electric heating. The electricity was generated
by three different sources, a small turbine mounted on the roof, an exercise bike that could generate a day’s power with an hour’s exertion and a diesel generator. 100 liters of diesel was contained in a tank under the cabin. Refilling the tank meant walking with a sled full of fuel cans from an outbuilding where Lindon kept supplies and a vehicle. He remembered the last time he was there, just standing outside under the stars; the temperature was minus thirty, the stars shone brightly and a wind whistled through the trees. The feeling of relaxation was unparalleled. Then life continued, a job came in and two days later he was in Pakistan on a security detail.

  As much as Lindon missed the cabin and the soul stirring views of the forests it was not what made him want to return. There was a woman; he met her when he first visited the country on a joint Swedish-American war games mission. She was American born but her farther was Swedish and she had moved there at the age of seventeen when he mother passed away after a short battle with cancer. Her name was Stephanie Lundberg, 5’10’’, shapely legs and long blonde hair, her skin unblemished and the eyes a piercingly bright blue. Lindon had struggled to take his eyes off her.

  Stephanie had obtained a medical degree but decided not to practice. Instead she went to Germany and studied business management for a year. She now worked for a charity in Stockholm that supported families who had lost loved ones to cancer. Stephanie was one of a kind with a big heart and little desire to fill her life with materialist distractions. She had turned down a salary for her work and instead chose to live at home with her father who had retired at the age of fifty-seven after losing his wife. Stephanie’s father had started a small business in the United States twenty-five years ago. He came to America with $3,500 and built the business from the ground, selling it for three and half million dollars when he decided to move back to Sweden.