Calypso Directive

by Brian Andrews

  “I work for a company called Vyrogen Pharmaceuticals. Mr. Foster was enrolled in a drug pilot program at my company involving highly infectious diseases. A few days ago, he broke out of our research facility in Prague. Mr. Foster is an extremely dangerous individual. I have been trying desperately to bring him back into quarantine. But at the moment . . .” she said, wiggling her bound hands at the wrist, “you are making my assignment extremely difficult.”

  Raimond locked eyes with his brother. Stefan motioned for Raimond to follow him, away from Julie, so they could talk in private.

  “We fucked up, Raimond, She works for Vyrogen,” Stefan whispered, with a hint of panic in his voice.

  Raimond rubbed his chin. “It seems our employer has been withholding critical information from us. Frau Morley already had an asset in place with Foster, while she left us wasting time looking for him in Prague.”

  “Why would she do that, when we could have easily brought Foster in?”

  “She was stalling. Probably because she doesn’t want to pay. The last time we spoke, she tried to cancel our contract.”

  “I thought you changed her mind?”

  “So did I.” After a pause, Raimond added, “We need this fee, Stefan.”

  “I know, but what do we do with her? If we let her go, she’ll call Morley.”

  “So we don’t let her go.”

  “You’re not suggesting that we kill her?”

  “No. At least not yet. First, we find out everything Morley is doing. Then, we decide what to do with her. She could be valuable bargaining leverage if Morley chooses not to pay.”

  “Jah. Agreed.”

  Raimond and Stefan walked back toward Julie. Raimond stood behind her and began to caress her hair.

  “You have been very cooperative so far, Ms. Ponte. You have followed the rules. This makes me very happy. Now, I want you to tell me everything.”

  “I’ll try,” Julie replied. Her skin crawled as he stroked her. She steeled herself so as not to shudder under his touch.

  “Tell me about this ploy with the man you called Agent Nelson. I don’t understand the purpose. If you are working for Vyrogen and Ms. Morley is working for Vyrogen, what are you doing in Vienna wasting time?”

  She lowered her eyes.

  “Ms. Ponte?”

  “Foster doesn’t know that I work for Vyrogen,” she said. “Morley couldn’t risk him running again, so we had to think of a different way to get him back. The stick wasn’t working, so we decided to try the carrot. My assignment was to get close to Foster; get him to trust me. But it was taking too long. So, Morley came up with the idea of setting up a meeting with a confederate FBI agent. Nelson was going to offer Foster protection.”

  Her candor surprised Raimond. He expected to be breaking fingers by now. “This is a very clever plan, but there is still something that confuses me. Your plan seemed to be working. So why did Meredith call me today and direct me to your apartment?”

  A volcano of fury and fear erupted inside her. This was the bastard who had tortured Isabella—broken every finger on her left hand. “You’ll have to ask her that question,” she said, through clenched teeth. “I didn’t even know she’d hired you until now.”

  Raimond began to ask Julie another question, when he was interrupted by the ringing of his mobile phone. He answered the call in German. As he listened to the voice on the other end of receiver, he began to shake. Stefan walked over to his brother and tried to listen to what was being said. Something was very wrong.

  Raimond finished the call. His fingers opened and the phone dropped to the ground with a clatter.

  “What is it?” Stefan questioned in German.

  “Udo is dead. Our brother is dead.”

  “What? How?”

  “Traffic accident. He drove his motorcycle into a fucking trolley. He was killed instantly. They didn’t even take him to the hospital.”

  Stefan stared at Raimond, but said nothing.

  Raimond began pacing back and forth behind Julie’s chair. Then, he stopped and unleashed a guttural, primeval scream full of rage and anguish. His throaty roar reverberated off the metal shelving and uninsulated ceiling structure. The hairs on the back of Julie’s neck stood up.

  Julie was fluent in German, although she had no intention of making this detail known to her captors. She had not met Udo Zurn, but she surmised that he was the thug who grabbed her from behind at the State Opera. Terror welled up inside her. The violent brother, the one pacing behind her, was infinitely more of a danger to her now than he was five minutes ago. Before, he had been agitated and cold. Now, he was burning with rage and hatred over the news of his brother’s death. Julie knew that she would be the likely target of his fury. She would be bludgeoned, whether she cooperated or not.

  She began to tremble.

  “This is your fault, bitch!” Raimond screamed at Julie. He walked around in front of her, boldly facing her. “You and your American bitch boss, Meredith Morley. If it hadn’t been for the two of you, Udo would still be alive.”

  Julie looked down at her knees in silence, saying nothing so as to avoid provoking him with her eye contact.

  “Answer me!” Raimond screamed at her.

  “What do you want me to say? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  He struck the side of her head with his open palm. “Liar!”

  “Raimond!” Stefan screamed in a high-pitched voice.

  Raimond glared at his younger brother.

  “This woman did not kill Udo!”

  Raimond grabbed Julie’s face with his left hand, gripping her from below the chin—his fingers and thumb squeezing her cheeks. He raised her chin angle so that she was looking up at him.

  “Who was the man on the black motorcycle that took Foster?” he questioned, releasing her jaw at the end of the sentence.

  “What man? I never saw a man on a motorcycle,” she replied, trembling.

  “You lie!” He struck her again, this time across the cheek. She yelped and her eyes began to fill with tears. “It was part of your plan. You arranged the meeting,” he said.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You parked your fucking van in front of me, blocking my view. Then, someone grabbed me from behind and drugged me,” she said, brazenly.

  Raimond drew his hand back to strike her again, but Stefan seized his wrist. “She’s telling the truth, Brother. We grabbed her before the motorcycle chase. She was already unconscious by the time the black motorcycle appeared.”

  Raimond’s face contorted with rage. He jerked his hand free from his younger brother’s grip. He walked quickly over to the van, opened the rear cargo door, and disappeared inside. Seconds later, he reemerged, face expressionless, and clenching a pistol in his right hand. He marched over to Julie and pressed the muzzle of the pistol firmly into her temple.

  “Tell me who killed Udo!”

  “I don’t know,” she cried.

  “Who is the black rider?” he screamed, spit flying from his lips, veins bulging in his neck and forehead.

  “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know,” she screamed back.

  “TELL ME. . . . TELL ME NOW, OR I SWEAR I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “WHO THE HELL are you people?” Will asked, scanning the four stoic faces seated opposite him inside a luxury appointed suite at the Wien Intercontinental Hotel.

  “My name is Special Agent Reed. You’ve already met Special Agent Nelson,” Albane said, nodding at AJ. “Collectively, we are members of a special US government interagency task force assigned to investigate cases of multinational espionage and corruption. That is all I am at liberty to disclose to you at this time.”

  Will nodded, stood up, and started walking toward the door.

  “Where are you going, Mr. Foster?”

  “If you’re not going to be straight with me, then I’m outta here.”

  “The minute you walk out that door, you ca
n forget about rescuing Julie,” she called after him. “You can’t get her back on your own.”

  He stopped in his tracks, but he did not turn around. With his back to her, he said. “Will you help me rescue her if I stay?”

  “We will rescue her if you stay. All we ask in return is that you answer our questions about Vyrogen.”

  He turned. “What would you like to know?”

  • • •

  ALBANE LOOKED OVER her shoulder into the adjoining room at Will. He was sitting on a sofa, lost in thought. She turned back to AJ. The look in AJ’s eyes told her damage control was necessary. She could see that his mind was a whirlpool, spinning with questions and doubt. She had years of experience in the Tank to call upon, giving her perspective on the tangled, thorny events of the Vyrogen case as it had unfolded. With less than two days on the job, AJ did not.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and no AJ, it’s not always like this,” she said. Then, laying a hand on his shoulder, she added, “This case is an aberration.”

  He searched her eyes, hoping to find a glimmer of truth he could never glean from her perfectly anodyne speech. “Everything has gotten so twisted, I don’t know what to think. Since we’ve left Boston, we’ve committed espionage against our client, impersonated Czech and US government agents, and kidnapped a man. I thought we were supposed to be the good guys.”

  “I know it might not feel like it, but we are the good guys. We don’t wear uniforms or carry badges, but we do serve a higher calling. Meredith Morley put us into a horrible situation. Not only did she hire us under false pretenses, but she meant to use the Tank as an instrument of malfeasance. We don’t work that way, no matter how much money the client is offering.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “And for the record, we didn’t kidnap Foster, we saved him from the real bad guys.”

  AJ saw the glimmer in her eyes he needed to see. “You’re probably right, but that doesn’t quell the indigestion I’m feeling right now. This is nasty business. I had no idea the world outside academia was like this.”

  “The real world is guns and roses; you’ll get used to it.” Then, with a smile she added, “Next thing you know, you’ll be asking to borrow keys to Kalen’s Ducati.”

  AJ laughed.

  Her expression turned serious. “I need to debrief Nicolora. Please go in the other room and keep an eye on Foster. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

  He nodded and did as she instructed.

  Albane pressed “0” on her phone.

  C. Remy—RS:Coordinator: “Coordinator.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “Coordinator, Social, request conference call with Founder One.”

  C. Remy—RS:Coordinator: “Founder One is standing by; let me patch him in.”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “I listened to the entire broadcast of your Foster interview. Consider me up to speed.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “I believe him.”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “So do I.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “Now what? Foster is clearly the victim here: kidnapping, genetic piracy, human rights violations, torture . . . it’s a long, dirty list. What Vyrogen did is unconscionable.”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “I know, but before we deal with that, we have the immediate problem of the bounty hunters and Julie Ponte. After Kalen’s report from Ponte’s apartment, I confronted Meredith about torturing the roommate. She admitted to hiring German bounty hunters to find Foster, but swears she never authorized torture. I have the Coordinator uploading the bounty hunters’ bios to your computer as we speak.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “I’m receiving them now.”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “The men we’re dealing with are brothers: Raimond, Udo, and Stefan Zurn. Raimond is the brain, Udo is the brute, and Stefan is the tech.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “I don’t understand why they are still in the picture. When Meredith hired us, why didn’t she have the Zurns stand down?”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “According to Meredith, she tried, but Raimond Zurn refused and went rogue. The case became personal for him. Now, with Udo Zurn dead, we must consider Raimond to be unstable and likely to seek revenge for his brother’s death.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “They have Ponte. What do you want us to do?”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “What we always do in situations like this. Rescue her.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “Assuming we’re successful, what do we do with Ponte and Foster when we’re done?”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “Fly them back to Boston on NIATROSS. From what I’ve learned tonight, Foster deserves to get his life back. I’ll even help him out with a new identity.”

  A. Mesnil—RS:Social: “What about the client?”

  R. Nicolora—Founder One: “Don’t worry about that; you have more urgent matters to attend to. I’ll handle Meredith. Founder One out.”

  Albane strode into the adjoining suite and with fire in her eyes, addressed her colleagues. “Gather round. . . . we’ve got a rescue mission to prep.”

  • • •

  “HAVE YOU EVER participated in a hostage negotiation, Mr. Foster?”

  “Call me, Will. And no, I haven’t.”

  Albane crossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair. “Although some would disagree with me, I consider hostage negotiations to fall under the umbrella of Game Theory. Are you familiar with the logic problem commonly referred to as the Prisoner’s Dilemma?”

  Will nodded. “I studied it in college, but it’s been awhile.”

  AJ shook his head. “I’ve heard the term, but to be honest, I can’t say I’m well versed on the subject.”

  “Okay, let’s walk through an example to refresh everyone’s memories,” Albane said reassuringly. “The Prisoner’s Dilemma is a simple but powerful logic game with two players. In the classic scenario, two criminals are arrested for reckless driving after committing arson. However, the police don’t have sufficient evidence to convict either criminal, that is, without defecting testimony from one criminal or the other. So they place the two criminals in separate rooms for interrogation and offer them deals for their testimony in court. Both criminals find themselves to be players in a game with four outcomes; each outcome is dictated by whether the players choose to defect or cooperate with the other player.

  Case One: Both criminals cooperate with each other and remain silent. Each man is sentenced to one year in jail for reckless driving. Neither is implicated in the arson.

  Case Two: Criminal A defects by incriminating Criminal B in the arson, while Criminal B remains silent. Criminal A goes free. Criminal B is sentenced to ten years in jail for the reckless driving and the arson.

  Case Three: Criminal A remains silent, and Criminal B defects by incriminating Criminal A in the arson. This time, Criminal B goes free and Criminal A is sentenced to ten years in jail.

  Case Four: Both criminals defect and testify against the other in the arson case. Each criminal is sentenced to six years in jail.”

  AJ rubbed his temples, concentrating. “Okay, so if I heard you clearly, the best scenario is for both criminals to cooperate and remain silent so that they’ll receive only one year jail terms.”

  “Yes, the best mutual outcome occurs when both players cooperate with each other. But remember, each player would do best for himself if he defects and his partner remains silent,” Albane explained. “Game theory says that rational self-interested players will always defect in a single iteration prisoner’s dilemma. In the effort to achieve their personal best-case scenario of zero jail time, both criminals will defect. In doing so, each will end up with six years. Another way to think about it is, when the participants in a prisoner’s dilemma do not trust each other implicitly, then fear of being the sucker stuck with the ten-year jail sentence will drive both players to defect.”

  “What do you mean by a single iteration prisoner’s dilemma?” AJ asked.

  “What I mean is that cooperation only emerge
s as a strategy when the players both intend to participate in another round of the game. Keep in mind, prisoner’s dilemmas can be redefined in an infinite number of scenarios: business, finance, military strategy, evolution . . . you get the picture. The outcomes don’t have to be punishment; they can be tangible goods, currency, time, goodwill, etcetera. The point I’m trying to make, Will, is that screwing your opponent is a perfectly acceptable strategy if you plan on never seeing him again. But, if he is anyone you intend to have future interaction with—a business acquaintance or a friend, for example—then cooperation emerges as a leading strategy.”

  “How does any of that relate to hostage negotiation?” Will questioned.

  VanCleave interjected, “Two-party hostage negotiation is just a prisoner’s dilemma with window dressing. Both parties have two choices: cooperate or defect. In hostage negotiation, both sides feign cooperation while pursuing the strategy of defection. It is important that you realize this fact in our upcoming negotiation with the bounty hunter Raimond Zurn. The laws of game theory dictate that he will defect on any promise.”

  Will deflated. “Whatever Zurn promises, it will be a lie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then Julie will die . . . no matter what we do?”

  Albane smirked. “No. Because our strategy is also to defect.”

  “May the shrewdest defector win,” Kalen cheered.

  “Then what is our plan?” Will asked.

  “We negotiate a hostage exchange,” Albane said, her voice velvet.

  “We ask for Julie and they ask for . . .”

  The four compatriots stared at him, but they said nothing.

  His eyes darted from face to face to face until at last, quietly, he said, “Me.”

  Chapter Forty

  JULIE TREMBLED UNCONTROLLABLY.

  Raimond was pressing the cold, steel muzzle of his pistol against her temple so hard that her head was craned over to the limit, her ear nearly parallel to the floor. She did not know the identities of her interrogators, but she had learned that Meredith Morley had hired them. Bounty hunters, she surmised. The nature of Raimond’s questions told her that they knew little about her, save her name and the fact that she was with Will. Clearly, Meredith had not told them anything substantive about her. They didn’t know that she was fluent in German, because they had conducted their side conversations within earshot—a lucky break, and one that had saved her a great deal of pain.