Origin - Season One

by James, Nathaniel Dean

  “Indeed it doesn’t. But I’m afraid it’s gotten a little more complicated. Or perhaps a lot more. I’m not sure.”

  “Meaning?” Mike said.

  “Meaning the files I was looking for weren’t there because Millennium Holdings no longer owns the box. In fact, it turns out Millennium Holdings no longer exists at all.”

  Mike’s characteristic frown was back. “The CIA has the recording you made. They still wouldn’t risk coming after you. Especially if they know you don’t have their files.”

  Francis nodded. “True. But the CIA isn’t the problem. Or at least not all of it. I took something from the vault. A hard drive. The people it belongs to are turning out to be both very determined to get it back and a lot more resourceful than I would have believed possible.”

  Mike looked incredulous. “Who?”

  When Francis didn’t answer Mike said, “Wow. You really don’t have a clue who’s after you, do you?”

  “Oh, I have a couple of clues,” Francis said. “I just don’t know where they lead yet.”

  “To Vermont?” Mike suggested.

  Francis shook his head. “The people sent to find Cynthia Ross had no idea what was going on.”

  “What did happen in Vermont?” Mike asked.

  “Gerald was my partner, but I’m guessing you already figured that out. As for what happened in Vermont, I happened. And in the nick of time.”

  “They were looking for him?” Mike asked.

  “They were looking for her. They had already found him.”

  “Why?”

  Francis walked to the edge of the water and stood looking out at the bay. Behind them a plane was spooling up its engines for takeoff. When the noise died down again Francis said, “She had the hard drive. Before I knew it had nothing to do with Princip I asked Gerald to get the files off it for me. When I realized what had happened Ross wasn’t at home. I got him to call his wife and get her to leave the house with it.”

  Francis reached into his backpack and handed Mike the hard drive. Mike studied it for a moment. “It looks old.”

  “It is.”

  Mike handed it back. “The CIA obviously knows the box used to be theirs. They’ll have put two and two together by now. You do realize that.”

  “Oh, I think they’ve done a lot more than put it together. But again, it’s never quite as simple as it should be. Princip is run by a guy named Norton Weaver. He’s what you might call the quintessential non-state-actor. Started off under Hoover with you boys, then moved to the CIA. He’s now what the spooks call a free agent. And he’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “What’s your point?” Mike said.

  “Norton knows what’s going on. The cover-up in Vermont has his name written all over it.”

  “The terrorist plot?”

  Francis chuckled. “Yeah. Gerald Ross wouldn’t know a terrorist from a bull terrier, or anything else for that matter. As for his wife, you’d only need to talk to her shrink to know she spent most of her waking hours in a drug-induced fog. Nobody will, of course. When our star-spangled press hears the “T” word they all drop their pants, turn around and bend over. No, Norton knows what’s going on and it suits him just fine because –”

  “He knows that you know you’ve fucked up,” Mike finished.

  Francis nodded. “And he’ll see this as an opportunity, believe me.”

  “How do you know all this?” Mike asked.

  “I spoke to Director Fairchild.”

  Mike looked up in surprise. “You’ve spoken to Fairchild?”

  “I had no choice. I had to warn him about Weaver. I also needed to find you.”

  Both men were silent for a moment. When he turned back to Francis, Mike said, “You say you don’t know who the drive belongs to. Do you at least know what’s on it?”

  “Pictures, mainly. And some technical drawings. Satellites, space probes, things like that. Nothing you can’t pull off the internet. Oh, and an old Victor-class Russian sub, complete with someone’s rather bizarre idea for turning it into a cargo ship.”

  “That’s it?” Mike asked, looking incredulous.

  “Not quite,” Francis said. “There are still some encrypted files on the drive that I haven’t been able to open. And one of the drawings has the name Skyline Defense on it. Ever heard of them?”

  “Sure,” Mike said. “Their headquarters are right here in New York. Although I can’t say I know much about them.”

  “I looked them up. They’re a research and engineering company, dealing mainly with space-related technology. NASA and things like that. It’s owned by some Swiss fund called the Ludvig Gustav Foundation. It’s a –”

  “Wait,” Mike interrupted. “What did you say it was called?”

  “I think it’s called the Ludvig Gustav Foundation.”

  “You mean the Karl Gustav Foundation.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. You’ve heard of it?”

  “When they pulled the investigation out of the New York office, our director sent his White House liaison up from D.C., a man named Bruce Jessops. According to Jessops, he was there to supervise the handover. I admit it sounded like bullshit even at the time, but so did just about everything else that was going on. Jessops saw the file I had. I asked a friend in D.C. to pull his personnel record. Not because I suspected him of anything then, but because he annoyed the shit out of me and I’d never seen him before. I just wanted to know how the hell he’d ended up in D.C. I mean the guy looked about fifteen years old. Anyway, I didn’t want to use my own terminal because everything is logged and it would have looked suspicious, especially under the circumstances, so I asked my colleague to do it.”

  Mike trailed off, as if trying to remember the rest.

  “And?” Francis said.

  “You have to know Mitch Rainey to understand – frankly I should have known better than to ask him – but he did a lot more than check his personnel record. It turns out Jessops is sitting on two million dollars, buried in some offshore account. And the money was coming from a company owned by the Karl Gustav Foundation. Jessops also made contact with the CIA station chief in Montpellier on Monday using a cell phone paid for by the bank that set up the account.”

  “He gave them the names,” Francis said. It wasn’t a question.

  “So find Jessops, and you’ve…”

  Francis was already shaking his head. “He won’t know anything. These people are smart. He’s a paid informant, nothing more. They used the list to find Gerald. He was never involved with the security system directly, but he knew everyone who was. His name would have come up too many times to ignore. We always assumed Gerald might be questioned, only by an official of the U.S. government, if you see what I mean.”

  Mike seemed to drift off again as Francis spoke. When his eyes returned to Francis, he said, “Has it occurred to you that what you did has gotten a lot of innocent people killed? Cynthia Ross, for one.”

  “You can believe what you want,” Francis said. “But staying in the house would have gotten her killed for sure. By running, at least she had a chance.”

  “Did she?” Mike said.

  “I had to get the drive back,” Francis said. “I think the reason should be obvious enough.”

  “And if she had run without the drive?” Mike said. “You think they would have killed her then?”

  “I think you still don’t understand what’s going on. If you think they would have spared her, you’re in the wrong line of work, my friend.”

  “All right,” Mike said, his temper rising. “I get it. They’re crazy and you’re innocent, because you didn’t know who they were. Is that about it?”

  “I don’t claim to be innocent. But I sure as hell never intended any of this.”

  “Their blood is on your hands,” Mike said defiantly.

  Francis stood, leaned forward and poked a finger at Mike’s chest. “You listen to me, you self-righteous son of a bitch! I’ve done things that would make you sick just listening to t
hem, and the people that signed my paychecks were the same assholes that sign yours. It’s taken me a long time to recover enough dignity to walk in the sun, and the last thing I need is a lesson in morality from a washed-up, half-ass bureaucrat. How many lives did you put on the line when you and your vanished friend started breaking the law and looking under stones best left unturned?”

  Mike pushed the hand away and stood up. Both men faced each other, their noses almost touching. Mike’s hand moved to the revolver under his jacket.

  “Go on,” Francis said. “I dare you. If you can kill me before I break your neck, I’ll deserve it.”

  Mike looked at Francis and saw something in his face he didn’t like. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t be the first person to die looking into those eyes. He dropped his hand and sat back down. “All right, you win, pal.”

  “I’m not trying to win anything,” Francis said. “We’re dealing with something here that runs deeper than either of us understands. I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there are rules, and the people after this drive are breaking all of them. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, believe me. I thought I knew where the bottom was. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean?” Mike asked.

  Francis sat back down and looked out at the water. He sat there staring for a long time before turning back, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh. “I killed a pregnant woman once.”

  Mike looked at him, frowning. He was about to say something, but Francis held up a hand. “She was a U.S. Citizen, guilty of nothing more than sleeping with a man she didn’t know. The man turned out to be a Saudi prince. The order came from Weaver, but the request was made by a minister in the Saudi government. It’s not something I’ll ever be able to live with, but I’m telling you to make a point. I thought that was the end of the line. I broke into the Fed to put an end to it, nothing else.”

  “You were one of the operatives for Princip?” Mike asked.

  Francis nodded. “You hear about conspiracies, and that one is as screwed up as they come. At least that’s what I thought. Back-room politics, political assassinations, secret covenants between people who are supposed to hate each other, money and oil buying anything that can be bought. But these people don’t fit the picture. You can bet the CIA has no idea what’s on that drive, or what this foundation does either.”

  “So you think the Karl Gustav Foundation is part of it?” Mike asked.

  “A part, yes. But don’t ask me how.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mike asked.

  “I have an idea. But I need to know if you’re on board first.”

  “On board? Me? I don’t think you get it,” Mike said. “I’ve got a family. My son is still in high school.”

  “I know,” Francis said.

  “Then you’ll also know that they would be in serious danger if I did anything to piss these people off. Shit, you said it yourself, they’re crazy.”

  “They’re not in danger,” Francis said.

  “How the hell do you know?”

  Francis looked up to the sky and closed his eyes. “Because they’re no longer in Arizona.”

  Mike stepped back, drew his gun and pointed it at Francis. “What the fuck have you done? If you think you can blackmail me into going along with what you’re planning, you’re as insane as they are.”

  Francis didn’t look at him. He picked up another stone and threw it into the water. “They were already being watched.”

  “What are you talking about? By who?”

  “By men who weren’t overweight ex-cops like the two back there in Times Square.”

  “How the hell can you know that?” Mike said, almost pleading now.

  “Because I had both of them killed after I called you.”

  Mike brought both hands to his head and started pacing back and forth like a man hit with a sudden and painful migraine. “Oh, Christ. This isn’t fucking happening. You had two men shot outside my goddamn house?”

  “No,” Francis said, still calm. “At the time they were in a hotel in downtown Phoenix. They were under orders to kill your wife and son if it came to it.”

  “Bullshit. This is all bullshit!”

  “I had them interrogated before they were shot. Trust me, it’s not bullshit.”

  “By who?” Mike said, his voice rising to a shout. “Who are these people? Who the fuck are you?”

  “None of that matters,” Francis said. “The point is you were being watched to see if you could keep your mouth shut. I don’t know if Weaver was behind it or someone else, but the moment you stepped out of line, there would have been no warning, just a double funeral and a chance for you to reconsider your options. You’re a high-ranking member of the FBI; killing you would lead to complications these people would rather avoid.”

  “And you don’t think killing my family would have done that?”

  “Killed is the wrong word,” Francis said. “They would have died. A car accident or a house fire, most likely.”

  “You talk as if you know these fucking people,” Mike said.

  “I do know them. I was one of them, remember? It’s the reason I’m still alive.”

  “You’re a sick fuck, is what you are. I don’t believe any of it.”

  “Then you need to open your eyes and take a good look around, my friend,” Francis said. “Because nothing is what it looks like.”

  Mike walked to Francis and raised the gun. Tears were welling up in his eyes and his body had started shaking.

  “You talked me into this fucking meeting! You got rid of the men tailing me! You set this whole thing up!”

  “Put the gun down,” Francis said.

  Mike lowered it slightly but kept it pointed at Francis.

  “Thank you,” Francis said. “You’re overlooking the point. I didn’t talk you into anything. I may have given you a direction to walk in, but I think you’d be lying to both of us if you said you hadn’t already decided to go somewhere. It wouldn’t have had to be much. Even telling the FBI about Jessops might have been enough. Can you tell me that was never going to happen? Can you honestly say that when your friend’s body washed up on the banks of the Potomac because he knew too much, you would let it lie?”

  Mike slowly lowered the gun to his side and sat down on the ground. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. “No. I can’t. And I did consider my family before I came here. What do you make of that?”

  “I think it makes you a bit of an asshole,” Francis said.

  Mike laughed, but there was no humor in it.

  “I also think it says something about you that most people can’t claim.”

  “What?” Mike said. “That I would sacrifice my wife and son?”

  “No. I think it demonstrates a commitment to principle that few people have.”

  “Can you tell me where they are?” Mike said.

  “I don’t know myself, and that’s the way it should be. Any man that claims he can hold on to a secret no matter what is a fool.”

  “But they’re okay?”

  “Yes,” Francis said. “They’re safe. The people looking after them are the best I know.”

  “So what do we do now?” Mike asked. All the fight had gone out of him. He suddenly felt like a leaf in a storm.

  “We’re going on a little vacation,” Francis said.

  Mike looked at Francis as if he were insane. “A vacation?”

  “There’s a man we need to see who just happens to live outside Orlando.”

  Francis held out his hand. Mike took it and Francis pulled him to his feet.

  “What about the Foundation?” Mike asked.

  “We leave that for now. I have a better plan in mind. We can always come back to it if things get desperate.”

  “Get desperate?” Mike said.

  Francis pulled a CD from his pocket and held it up. “I said Skyline was my only lead,” Francis said. “But that’s not quite
true. This is what the whole thing comes down to. The key is in here somewhere. It has to be. And I know a man who can help us.”

  “In Florida,” Mike said.

  “Come on,” Francis said. “We’ll lay low for a few hours and catch the red-eye to Tampa.”

  Mike put his gun back in its holster.

  “You might as well get rid of that now,” Francis said.

  Mike looked at the gun for a moment, then walked back to the edge of the water and threw it as far as he could. He stood for a moment watching the ripples it made then turned and followed Francis back to the road.

  “My name is Francis, by the way,” Francis said. “Although not for very long. You’ll need a new name yourself. I was thinking you look like an Edwin.”

  “Tell me something,” Mike said. “How did you get Fairchild to give you my name?”

  “I told him I was going to send my video to the Motion Picture Academy if he didn’t.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Mike said.

  “He might be,” Francis said, “But I have a feeling he’s going to be our son of a bitch from now on.”

  Chapter 42

  Lake Commissaires, Quebec Friday 21 July 2006

  1300 EDT

  Jesse opened his eyes and scrambled out from under the blanket. Still half-asleep, he reached for the smallest log on the pile by the fireplace and prepared to swing it at the creature stirring at his feet. But when he looked down there was nothing there but the tattered remains of the waterproof jacket he had taken the night before. He noticed he was holding the log in his left hand and looked down to see a dark purple bulge halfway up his right arm. There was a distinct entry and exit wound on either side. His hands and forearms were covered in dried blood and something else he didn’t even want to think about.

  Ignoring the pain, he leaned over and prodded the jacket with the end of the log. When he was sure there was nothing alive hiding inside it, he reached down and picked it up. There was a small zipper just inside the lining. The cell phone inside it didn’t look like any he had ever seen. It was a flat oblong shape and made of black brushed aluminum. There was a single line display on the front with a simple nine-digit keypad below it and five small LED lights above. There was no antenna or power button that he could see, and when he turned it over, there didn’t appear to be a battery cover either. All five lights above the screen were red. On the green display the word Contact was flashing rapidly. He held the phone for a moment longer then put it down on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.