by Sam Fisher
Mark took a deep breath. 'I see. Insufficient evidence. Even though we have records of the men dealing with an assassin known as the Dragon. The man who planted the bombs at the CCC.'
'A dead assassin, Mark,' Franberger intoned. 'I think many would assume the man was operating alone.'
Mark looked directly at the Secretary of State and laboured to quell his fury. He was about to speak when Mitchell's voice cut in.
'Mark, I personally believe this Dragon was a solo operator with his own agenda. Perhaps we'll never know what that was. As Secretary Franberger has pointed out, the man is dead.'
Mark made to speak, but Mitchell went on. 'E-Force, on the other hand, is very much alive, is it not?' He paused dramatically to emphasise his point. 'And this mission has shown just how effective it is – how many lives will be saved in the future because your organisation exists.'
Mark looked away. He gazed at the banks of flashing lights and plastic control panels to one side of the screen. A thousand dead faces swam before his eyes. And then a steeliness gripped him. He swallowed hard and nodded. 'Very well,' he said.
Mark sat alone in the comms suite for several minutes. The only light came from the control panels and the holoscreen floating above one of the keyboards. Suddenly he felt very small. For all he had achieved, for all the resources at his fingertips, he realised – not for the first time – that he was nothing more than a cog in a giant machine. No, less than that – he was a worker ant, at the beck and call of truly powerful individuals.
But then, Mark told himself, those men are only as powerful as the people who elect them. It is the people who make them powerful. Their time will pass, and others will come along to replace them. Today he had been forced to do the bidding of politicians, men who would never get their hands dirty. He and the team had done their best and had saved lives, but he knew that in the future E-Force had to be better prepared and used properly.
E-Force was not simply a testing ground for CARPA's technology. More than half a century had passed since a group of congressmen, worried by the power handed to the military with the establishment of DARPA, had established the rival organisation. He knew that the idealistic days when the remit of CARPA had been to feed innovation into the everyday world of ordinary people had long passed. CARPA now had ambitions to claw back the billions of dollars it had spent over the years. And, of course, he knew that E-Force was an amazing advert for technological innovations at least two decades ahead of their time. But he and the other members of E-Force were not merely field-testing that technology so it could be sold on, and his team were not test dummies. That, he knew, was what the politicians and the holders of the purse strings would want. But he would fight them.
After today, Mark told himself, he would not kowtow to politicians. He had created E-Force, and he would do everything in his power to ensure not only that it survived but also that it worked in the way he knew it should.
He sighed heavily and stood up.
112
The E-Force team was gathered in Cyber Control, along with many of the crew from the hangars and the various operational divisions at Base One.
Mark was standing on a chair, holding a glass of champagne. A hush settled over the room. 'A few minutes ago, the Secretary of State pointed out to me that this was not a time for celebration,' he began. 'And he was absolutely right. More than a thousand Americans died two days ago at the California Conference Center, and many thousands more are grieving the loss of their loved ones. But amidst the pain and the heartache, there are things of which we should be proud, and for which we should give ourselves a collective pat on the back.
'We came through our first mission with flying colours. We achieved our goals – saving lives – and we proved ourselves very capable. This, then, is not a celebration but a time to reflect upon the positive aspects of the past few days.' Mark looked around the room at the faces of his team and allowed himself a flicker of pride. He knew that he had picked the perfect unit and that E-Force would achieve great things in the future.
'To E-Force,' Mark announced, raising his glass.
'To E-Force,' the gathering responded as one.
Tom's voice cut through the momentary silence as everyone downed their champagne. 'So does that mean these guys have to go back to training?' he asked with a wicked grin.
Mark's features stayed rigid as he looked around at the other field members of E-Force. 'No,' he said, slowly breaking into a smile. 'I think you should all take yourselves off on vacation . . . to a tropical island, perhaps!'