"What will happen then, Pete?" Everett asked.
"That, I really don't know Captain. Dahlia could send a transformer signal through, tracing the program, or send Europa a tapeworm, destroying her completely." Pete patted the console before him and then looked inside Europa's containment room. "But I think she's too smart for that." He smiled. "We've made a few modifications on her in the time she's been here."
"Let's get started."
Pete nodded at Jack.
"Europa, commence scanning the Langley North American Intelligence files."
"Yes, Doctor."
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
At 2 A.M. in the morning, Nancy Grogan, with fresh new orders from the director himself to stand down for three days, was staring at her computer screen. The file was open on Lynn Simpson. She had read everything she could in that file, trying to find out Lynn's next of kin. She had decided that regardless of what her superiors said, her family, especially her brother, needed to be told about her possible fate, but she found she was loathe to contact the mother of the siblings because she couldn't explain why she needed to find her son Jack. Grogan knew that Lynn had been in contact with her brother. She was the only person at CIA who had that little bit of information. She didn't know how much Lynn had explained to her brother, so she thought it would be helpful to contact him herself if at all possible.
Grogan finally stretched and then started to reach for the monitor's power supply. She still wanted to pack a few things from her office to take home, but she froze when she saw a small and intense flashing icon in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. USER 5656 LOGGED ON.
"Well, at least they're still working on finding her," Grogan mumbled as she pushed the small button, closing down her monitor.
She stood and found a partially filled box and threw some paperwork from her department inside, then she grabbed the Lynn Simpson personnel file and was tempted to throw it in as well, but she knew that little item would never get through security. As she closed the file, she gently laid it on her desk. The file was a standard "secret" file with SIMPSON, LYNN H typed on its front. Below that was her operations number—1121. This was a series of numbers that all agency personnel had been issued. The number was everything from an employee number, a payroll tag, and Blue Dahlia's computer systems log-in code — the higher the number, the lower the rank and time on the job.
Grogan lifted the cardboard box and then her eyes caught the number on the personnel file once more. 1121. Lynn's number was one of the lower ones since her transfer from operations two years ago. The director of Intelligence let the box slide from her hand as she hurriedly opened her top desk drawer. She found what she was looking for and ran her index finger down the list. It was a directory of log-in numbers for everyone who was authorized to use Blue Dahlia. The numbers ended at 2267.
"Who in the hell is 5656?" she said aloud. As the incredulous thought struck her, she quickly reached for the phone. Someone had hacked what should have been one of the most secure systems in the world. In her haste to punch in security's number, her hand struck Lynn Simpson's file and it fell to the floor, along with Grogan's own notes on Simpson's family. As security answered the phone on the other end, she saw the name Colonel Jack Collins, United States Army, underlined in red ink several times.
"Security, Adamson speaking. Miss Grogan, are you ready to leave the facility?"
Nancy looked up from the file and thought quickly. The rumors of Lynn's brother being very resourceful came flooding through her rapidly thinking brain. She hesitated only a moment.
"Yes, in about fifteen minutes. I'll only be carrying home one box to be inspected."
"Very good, ma'am, I'll have two men standing by for escort to your vehicle."
"Thank you," she said quietly and then hung up the phone.
She knew that what she was doing was very close to committing treason. She also knew that this could have been the way Sagli and Deonovich came across their information on the Los Angeles raid. However, she knew for a fact that Blue Dahlia was as secure as systems can get. The rumor was that only another Blue Ice system could do what was being done, and even Sagli and Deonovich didn't have the funding for that little trick.
As she sat back into her large chair, she flipped on the computer monitor again. The small icon was still flashing in the lower left-hand corner of the screen: USER 5656 LOGGED ON. Grogan sat back and watched the green numbers as they glowed in the semidarkness of her office. Then a small smile slowly crept across her features. She knew the log-on numbers had to be an American code for an agency — four numbers, and it seemed Blue Dahlia recognized these call numbers. Her smile broadened as she felt she had an ally somewhere in the world that would help her get Lynn home.
"The mysterious Colonel Jack Collins, I presume," she said just under her breath.
She would give the hacking computer another sixty seconds before she hit the alarm. After all, there was still a small chance it may be someone not so friendly to her government.
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX
NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
As Europa was scanning agency files at a blinding rate, the phone buzzed and Everett answered it.
"Yes… thank you," he said and hung up.
"That was the director's assistant. It seems the man that was kidnapped, this Juan Chavez, was found washed up against the pier pylons in Huntington Beach."
Without saying anything, Jack underlined Chavez's name on the list he was slowly putting together.
"Colonel, I still think investigating that end of things is as viable as it was before this news. Whatever these Russians are up to, they went through this man for some reason, more than likely a link to those papers, or the journal that was stolen."
"Okay, what do you suggest?" Jack asked.
Pete pushed his thick glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and thought.
"The man dealt in stolen goods, antiquities, almost anything of value derived from antiquity."
"Yes, but that could still mean anything," Everett volunteered.
"Captain, the work we do here, the recovery of history, is a very limited field. There are very few people in the world who are truly good at it. Thieves are not as good as the Group, of course, but they are very adequate when it comes to selling what they steal to private collectors around the world. Our computer is good but there's only so much we can uncover without leaving this room."
"You're suggesting we go into the field, fly to L.A. for a closer look?" Jack asked.
"Well, yes. Look here," Pete said as he stood and pointed at a line of script on the large monitor in front of them. "Yes, here we are. Langley has run this guy Chavez through Dahlia a thousand times, arrest records and such. The man has never divulged his source, who it is that's contracting his services. There wasn't one piece of incriminating evidence to be found in his Elysian Park home. No artwork, no statuary, no antique of any kind. This man sold everything he came into possession of."
"He has to have a buyer," Everett said.
"Not only that, but someone had to fund the world travel the agency uncovered. According to overseas records, this man, Chavez, was worth only two and half million dollars."
Jack looked at Pete and slowly nodded. "In other words, whoever was buying his stuff may have some clue as to what Sagli and Deonovich were seeking and why."
"Exactly, Colonel."
Pete was about to expand on his thoughts when the last line of script was entered onto the Europa main screen from the CIA mainframe. He grew silent as he watched the sentence run its course. Then he slowly removed his glasses and lightly touched Collins on the shoulder.
"Oh, God," was all Pete said.
Jack looked up at what was written on the screen and his heart fell to the bottom of his chest.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Everett said as he closed his eyes and shook his head.
As Europa finally came to a stop, the sentence pronounced their search may be over before it started.
&
nbsp; RECOVERED RIGHT INDEX FINGER AT 2230 HOURS, POSITIVELY IDENTIFIED AS THAT SEVERED FROM THE AGENCY EMPLOYEE, SIMPSON, LYNN, H., DNA POSITIVE — FINGERPRINT ANALYSIS — POSITIVE.
"What did they do to her?" Jack asked as his eyes closed and his head sank to his chest.
"Doctor Golding, my entrance into the Blue Dahlia mainframe has been discovered; a trace is currently in process," Europa said calmly.
"Shut down, damn it, shut it down!" Pete said as he stood, pushing his chair back so hard it slammed into the far wall.
"Shutdown complete, trace was lost." Europa said in a calm voice.
Jack hurriedly put his notes in order and stood.
"Colonel?" Pete asked.
"I'm still going to L.A."
"Jack, I guess this is a good time to tell you: The director ordered me to stop you if you tried to leave the complex."
Jack looked from Everett and then to the monitor in front of him, and then returned his determined look to Carl.
"Right, I'll get us a plane," Everett said, shrugging out of his white electrostatic coat.
"Do that, Captain, and alert Mendenhall and Ryan. Tell them their weekend duties are canceled."
Everett watched as Jack left the clean room.
"Doc, correlate what you've recovered; there may be something in there that can help."
Pete Golding watched Everett follow Collins out of the clean room, and then he sat down and almost reached for the phone, but stopped. He almost shouted aloud when the phone startled him when it buzzed. He swallowed and then picked it up.
"Clean room," he said meekly.
"Pete, I just received a call from the White House. The president was informed that we hacked into the CIA mainframe."
"Niles, there's no way they can know that; Europa cut the trace before it took hold."
"Pete, I've had a few drinks here, but even I could figure out who did the hacking if I knew what agencies had the Cray system, and the president, in case you haven't noticed, isn't a fool. Where is Jack?"
"Uh… well… he and Captain Everett—"
"Have they left the complex?" Niles asked.
"Well, no, they haven't had the time; they just left the clean room."
"Do they have a lead on Jack's sister?"
"Niles, the damn Russians cut that little girl's finger off."
"Do they have a lead?"
"Yes, sir. Los Angeles."
"And they are still inside the complex?"
"Yes, sir," Pete said, feeling like he was betraying Jack and Carl.
There was silence on Niles's end of the phone. Then he finally spoke. "Okay, give them another thirty minutes to clear Nellis, and then issue an order for any Event personnel to detain Captain Everett and Colonel Collins."
"Sir?" Pete asked, not believing Niles was letting them go.
"Hell, you may as well include their little sidekicks in that order, too. Detain Mendenhall and Ryan. No wait," Compton said thinking as fast as Europa. "Get to Lieutenant Mendenhall, pry him away from Ryan and the others, and have him and Sarah McIntire report to me before the colonel can get to him, do it ASAP, Pete, you hear me?"
"But—"
"If Jack thinks there's a chance of him finding his sister, we'll give him the time he needs, but I also know for a fact that everyone from the FBI to Virginia farm boys will be out to stop him from doing so. I need McIntire and Mendenhall in my office; they are not to accompany Collins, Everett, and Ryan."
The phone went dead and Pete just shook his head in wonder.
"It would be nice if someone asked me along for the ride sometime," Pete said to himself.
* * *
After Niles hung up, he slowly kicked his shoes off and then lay down on his couch, a place where he had spent most of the last month sleeping, and where he would now try to dream through the dark storm that was about to hit. He pushed his glasses onto his balding head and then closed his eyes. He was wondering just how long it would take Langley to scream bloody murder all the way to the White House about the Group's assault on CIA's Blue Dahlia.
Just as Niles felt the onslaught of whiskey-induced sleep, his assistant stepped into his office and quickly walked to the couch and shook Niles. He came awake like a man falling from a cliff — that unsettling feeling of falling and not being able to stop yourself. Then he opened his eyes and realized he couldn't focus on the face in front of him. His assistant reached out her slim hand and pulled his glasses back down to cover his eyes.
"Sir, the president is on the phone. He says you're not answering your laptop."
Niles laid there, not wanting to move, not wanting to face the man he had disobeyed. He took a deep breath and then slowly sat up on the couch, placing his stocking feet on the floor one at a time.
"Sir, you look horrible. Maybe you should just answer his phone instead of going visual?"
Niles looked his young assistant over. Her name was Linda, and she was reporting more and more for duty since Alice Hamilton was spending more time with Senator Garrison Lee these days, the former director of the Group. Compton figured that the two oldest members of the Event Group deserved all the time they had together; they had after all, earned it.
"I look that bad, huh?"
"Yes, you do," she said.
"Well, your training progresses, young lady. I think I'll follow your advice. Hand me the phone."
She reached out and pulled the phone over from the small table next to the couch. She lifted the receiver.
"Mr. President, we have located Director Compton."
There was silence on the other end of the phone line when Niles placed the receiver to his ear.
"Compton," he said with a mouth full of cotton.
"I warned you, Mr. Director, CIA reported a backdoor hack of their Dahlia system. May I assume it was your people?"
"You may not assume it was my people," Niles said with as much indignity as he could conjure up.
"Okay, then you're telling me it was NSA, the FBI, or the boys at the Pentagon? They're the only ones other than your Europa who has that capability. And believe me, I know what that nervous bastard Pete Golding is capable of, I've seen him work: He can twist that damn Cray system to do backflips if he wanted."
"I resent that, Mr. President, just because Pete's — well, anyway, I resent the accusation."
"Just so you know, I have ordered the arrest of Colonel Collins and anyone in his security department that tries to fly out of Nellis, which I highly expect they'll try. For Christ's sake, Niles, as a friend, I asked you not to tell him. I wanted to let this thing play out a while. As it looks, we'll never know the real reason for his sister's reasoning for talking to her brother."
"And as a friend, I told you what you wanted to hear. Would you want to be kept in the dark about your sister? No, you wouldn't. And that man has done more for this country than anyone you or I have ever known, I think—"
"Don't think, damn it. We may have serious problems here, his sister may have been getting close to something and Director Easterbrook has stuck his neck out to assist her. And don't ask because we really don't know yet. Look, Collins has already screwed the pooch here, he's made a big mistake, he and his buddy, Everett, filed an advanced flight plan to Los Angeles out of Nellis. Hell, it took the FBI all of two minutes to get that information. And they have at least two agents at every dirt airstrip for fifty miles, too. Listen, Niles, Jack Collins is too close, and I don't want to lose him along with his sister — that's what I owe him, at least until we get a handle on what his sister was working on. So, let the FBI catch and detain him."
"I know that, but I am not going to keep that man in the dark even if his sister is already dead. If she is, can you think of anybody else in this world who you would want to track the bastards down that killed her?"
"No, but consider yourself under house arrest Mr. Director, you little bastard. I should just fly out there right now and hang you."
"Excuse me, but I'm a little drunk and I'm going to go back to slee
p."
"You do that!"
Niles winced as the phone was hung up.
"Is the president mad?" Linda asked.
"Yes, very mad," he said as a smile crossed his lips. "He's going to catch Jack at the base before he enters his aircraft," he said as his eyes started to close and the smile was drifting but still present. "But I think I may have gotten a step on him. When McIntire and Mendenhall get here, give them this," he said as he handed her a folded piece of paper.
"Is there anything else we can do to help the colonel, sir?" the young assistant asked.
Niles didn't answer her question as he had fallen asleep with the phone still clutched in his hand and the smile still on his lips.
* * *
Jack, Carl, and Jason Ryan stepped from the tram that led to Gate Two just beneath the Gold City Pawnshop, the clandestine entryway for all Event Group personnel. They were dressed in civilian attire and had identification that indicated they were Los Angeles police detectives, and L.A. County sherriff's officers. As they took the elevator up, Jack looked at his watch.
"Mendenhall was nowhere to be found?" Collins asked the small naval aviator.
"No, sir, he left his security badge in the security office, I couldn't get a track on him through Europa."
"Damn," Jack said as the elevator doors slid open. The view ahead was the dusty and very dingy back storeroom of the Gold City Pawnshop.
They were met by Lance Corporal Jess Harrison, a black marine from Compton, California. The young corporal had the duty at Gate Two.
"Sir, this just came through from the director's office," he said handing Collins a flimsy.
"What's the word, Jack?" Everett asked as he walked over to the arms locker and used his security code to open it. The corporal watched Everett with a wary eye.
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