Will sat back as if he’d been shoved.
“How many of your friends have struggled post-deployment? With guilt. With depression. With anxiety. How many have contemplated suicide?” Mitchell asked. “Those are your brothers, Mr. Bennett. So I ask you—how far does your loyalty extend to them? What price would you pay to see them happy, whole, and healthy?” He smiled as if he’d caught Will in a trap of his own principles.
“These trials? They could provide the answers to all of that and more. Dementia? Gone. Alzheimer’s? Eliminated. Traumatic brain injuries? Cured.”
Mitchell sighed as if he were explaining something very simple to someone very stupid.
“It won’t be the first advancement, medical or otherwise, funded through black-market channels. Profit drives progress, and altruism comes last. Always has, always will.”
Mitchell put his fork down and sat back. “According to Cole’s file and the case history, there was a commercial buyer lined up to license the technology. But they wanted proof of concept.” He stared at Cooper. “You’re a smart woman, Miss Reed. Tell me, why, out of all the program candidates, was your partner singled out?”
She didn’t need to think it through. From the moment Mitchell had referenced Cole’s disobedience in the field, she’d known.
“Because of me,” she whispered, her voice rough and broken.
Will snapped his head around to stare at her. He hadn’t pieced it together yet, but he would.
“They wanted to prove the technology would work on anyone,” Cooper continued. “That even the most loyal, the most independent, could be brought to heel,” she said, her voice trailing off. She took a breath and forced herself to voice the truth. “Because Cole was formally written up for disobeying orders and saving my life.”
“Yes,” Mitchell agreed. “He was. His actions, while heroic, made him a target.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes and her nails bit into the flesh of her palms. Not once had it occurred to Cooper that it might be her fault. She couldn’t force anything else past her lips, but Mitchell stepped in to finish it.
“If Cole could be ordered to kill you—his best friend, his partner, the person on this planet he was most loyal to—well, I’d say that amounted to far more than just proof of concept, wouldn’t you?”
“You’re a smug son of a bitch, you know that?” Will raged. “You stripped away every good, decent thing about that man and you’re proud of it.”
“I did no such thing—I wasn’t even assigned to this trial.” Mitchell reviewed his notes. “According to records, Cole was a phase-one participant. There were . . . complications with that testing pool.”
Cooper didn’t want to hear another word about trials or test subjects or the costs and benefits of results.
“How do I fix it?” she asked, her voice hot and her anger building.
“Fix it?” Mitchell cocked his head to the side, as if the question had completely caught him off guard.
“Cole was ordered to kill me. As you can clearly see,” she hissed, “I’m not dead and he hasn’t stopped trying.”
“Nor will he. Phase one, while a success on paper, resulted in setbacks. Subjects became too single-minded, too adhered to their orders. There was no room for real-time problem-solving or flexibility in the field. Attempts to course correct failed rather spectacularly, I’m afraid.”
“What does that mean?” Will snapped.
“Once programed and given a mission, subjects failed to thrive unless they were able to complete their assignment. If their purpose was frustrated long enough or rendered impossible, depression set in and suicide inevitably followed. Lost causes, I’m afraid,” Mitchell said, a frown crossing his face as he reviewed the files. “A terrible blow to the study, but one that was corrected for phase two.”
“And the subjects who completed their mission?”
Will snapped his gaze back to her. “That’s not a goddamned option, Cooper!”
He reached for her, but she pulled away. She couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. Not when she had to steel herself against the very real possibility that this was her fault . . . and that saving Cole might mean sacrificing herself.
Mitchell shrugged. “Fifty-fifty outcomes for phase-one participants. Half successfully reacclimated to everyday life.”
“And the other half?” she asked.
“Failed to thrive.”
“Cooper, whatever you’re thinking, stop it. This isn’t your fault—”
“It is.” She stood and pushed away from the table, her mind racing with answers she’d been so desperate to have and only now realized she didn’t want. “I’m the reason they chose him. He disobeyed orders and risked his life to save mine. Do you really expect me to do anything less?”
“It’s not the same thing!” Will stood and stalked toward her. When she went to turn away, he gripped her by the shoulders. “He risked his life for you, yes. But you’re talking about trading your life for his—it’s not even close to the same,” he repeated and brushed his thumb across her cheek, then cupped her face in his hands. “Cooper. He wouldn’t want this. And he’d never, never find a way to live with it. Not without hating you. Not without hating himself.”
Will was right, and Cooper knew it. Cole would never expect this of her, and even if it set him free, even if he lived a long life, he’d go to his grave hating them both.
It was just one shitty choice after another. When would it all end?
“There has to be something else,” Will said, turning back to stare at Mitchell. “You said phase two was a success—”
“Because the protocol was changed. The drugs, the genetic modification and mapping—all different from the outset, none of which helps Cole.”
Will reached for her, and this time, Cooper let him pull her close. What could the weakness hurt when everything else was an agony?
“There has to be something.”
Mitchell shrugged. “Perhaps. But you’d need far more than what’s in these files.”
Hope, like a determined weed, pushed through the cracks of Cooper’s grief.
“What?” she asked, her voice raw and desperate. “What else?”
“Extensive lab work. Blood work and tissue samples that pre-date the trials. A complete genetic mapping of both before and after the tests. Heart bypass and multiple transfusions to cleanse his blood and keep his body from replicating the same altered cells. And you’d need someone with the ability to reverse engineer both the delivery system—genetically typed and modified scopolamine—and the target-specific mapping they used on your partner.”
“Then it’s possible.”
“Miracles are possible, Mr. Bennett. As is winning the lottery. And both are more likely than what you’re proposing.”
“Because of the pre-trial lab work.”
Mitchell laughed. “My dear, that’s simply the hill before the mountain. Everything is stored in a lab in Mexico City. Blood work, biopsies, tissue samples, genetic mapping, and personalized, coded trials for every single program participant. It’s a treasure trove of proof and a literal, step-by-step map of what was done to each subject.”
“Then what’s the issue? Access?” Cooper asked.
“Please. Easily solved if you’re willing to get your hands dirty.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Will snarled.
“Blackmail, Mr. Bennett. I can promise you, all it will take is the threat of exposure and the laboratory director will be falling all over himself to assist you.” Mitchell’s smile turned condescending. “Human experimentation is quite illegal—violates a number of international treaties, I believe. The mere implication of knowledge let alone involvement could ruin the most pristine of reputations. I know the man in charge of that lab—trust me when I say that after greed, his greatest strength lies in his sense of self preservation.”
“I want contact details,” Cooper snapped.
Mitchell nodded, scribbled something on a notepad. “The labor
atory in Mexico City and my contact there,” he said as he handed over the sheet of paper. He shut the lid of his laptop.
“What else do we need?” Cooper asked.
“The original geneticist and access to the computer program she used to build out the mapping algorithm she developed. Without her, you cannot hope to reverse engineer the delivery system or walk back the genetic modifications.”
“Where do we find her?” Cooper asked, determination settling deep in her bones.
“And there’s the mountain—Dr. Olivia York disappeared nearly eight months ago while on a mission trip in the Sudan.”
“Ransom?” Will asked.
“You’re certainly meant to think so, but no. The CIA had her picked up and dropped into a black site.”
“Why?”
“It was Dr. York’s brilliant research that set all of this into motion,” Mitchell explained. “An MD at twenty-two, a doctorate in genetics from MIT at twenty-five. A brilliant mind—the two of you would like her.”
“I doubt it.” As far as Cooper was concerned, Dr. York was as guilty as anyone.
Mitchell chuckled. “You don’t know her, but I worked with her on a number of occasions. Like you, she’s altruistic. More concerned with the greater good than the bottom line. And she had friends in high places—access to technology that would make your head spin.”
“You’d be surprised,” Will countered.
Mitchell grinned as if someone had just tipped their hand in a game they hadn’t know they’d been playing. “I didn’t think it would shock you, Mr. Bennett. You’re well acquainted with this particular algorithm. The brain child of one Parker Livingston, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Will?” Cooper turned to him.
“How do you know about that?” Will asked, ignoring Cooper’s question. “That program is classified.”
“And it was that secrecy that allowed Charles Brandt to turn a profit.”
“Who?” Cooper asked again, confusion swirling her thoughts.
“I’m Delta,” Will explained. “But I was also attached to a special task force headed up by the DoD and more specifically, Charles Brandt.” He turned to her. “Black ops, Cooper. Not just classified, but completely off book. Missions backed by cutting-edge technology—a predictive program that could identify emerging threats, run complex risk assessments—”
“Or topple governments, start wars, incite riots—something Charles understood. And something he leveraged to great effect. Turned a nice little profit selling those outcomes to every warlord or corporation with deep enough pockets.” Mitchell shrugged. “Before he was caught, anyway.”
“It’s why I was in Colombia in the first place,” Will said, swallowing hard.
“And Brandt is the one who covered up your captivity,” Cooper said, piecing together the pieces he’d given her with the ones she already had. “You were never supposed to be in Colombia at all.”
Will jerked his head once. “But I don’t see what that has to do Cole?”
“Really?” Mitchell cracked a grin. “And what if I told you that Parker Livingston and Olivia York were at MIT together?”
“They knew each other.” Will ran a hand through his hair.
“Good friends, as it happens. And both brilliant minds.”
“Parker gave Olivia access to his program, let her leverage the technology for her genome research,” Cooper finished.
“The sharp shot has a sharper mind.” Mitchell raised an eyebrow. “Dr. York used that program to redefine the landscape of modern pharmacology—her breakthroughs took her from startup to billionaire in under two years.”
“If that’s true then why the illegal experiments?” Will asked. “She already had more money than most people could spend in ten lifetimes.”
Mitchell shook his head. “Dr. York is nothing if not committed to healing humanity’s ills. She’d never contemplate, let alone authorize, human experimentation. Every dollar she earned went back into research or low-cost vaccines or simplified AIDs tests. Profit never drove her.” Mitchell sighed and shook his head as if he simply couldn’t understand someone who wasn’t motivated by profit margins. “Members of her board of directors, on the other hand, were far more invested in York Pharmaceutical’s bottom line. How long do you think it took for one of them to figure out the source of her success?”
“How did the CIA get involved?” Cooper asked on a resigned sigh.
Mitchell shrugged. “People with money and power all tend to run in the same circles.”
“You’d never get something like this past the Department of Defense. There’s too many regulations. Too many laws that prevent shit like this from happening,” Will said.
“True enough where the cognitive trials are concerned,” Mitchell agreed. “Though how quickly do you think a defense contract could be authorized if another country—say China or Russia—deployed the technology first? The US has never been left behind in an arms race—that’s not about to change. With the right motivation? Everything would have been quickly and quietly legitimized.”
“Then why grab Olivia?” Cooper asked.
Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Trial data was stored on York infrastructure. It makes sense, I suppose, keeping it off government servers.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Plausible deniability and all that. This country already hates corporate interests, and big pharma?” He shook his head. “I’d challenge you to find a better ready-made villain. And anyway, a company that large, it should have been easy to hide everything, but it seems Dr. York is much more hands on than anyone expected.”
“She found out,” Will said.
Mitchell nodded. “Redacted and encrypted everything and launched a thorough internal investigation. She made it quite impossible for her company to deliver on deals already struck with a number of parties.” Mitchell grinned. “Those are not the sort of people you want as enemies, I can assure you.”
“I want a name,” Will demanded.
“Within the CIA, I don’t have one to give you.” Mitchell speared another piece of fruit, chewed and swallowed. “Within York Pharmaceuticals? I dealt exclusively with Gerald Reeves. He, in turn, liaised with his contact at the CIA. They had quite the lucrative arrangement going . . . until people started to piece it all together, of course.” He sighed heavily, as if the loss of all those studies weighed on him. “Reeve’s contact at the CIA might have been able to clean up after Mr. Harrigan and his friends relatively easily, but once Olivia became involved.” He shook his head. “Another matter entirely, I’m afraid. Revoking everyone’s access to those files was bold, but stupid, and it put a target on her back.”
“And now Reeves is trying to force her to cooperate,” Cooper finished for him. Which meant he’d hidden her well. It had taken her nearly eighteen months to get this far, how much longer would it take to find York?
“And the CIA is wiping the slate clean in the meantime—no more risks. No more leaks. No more loose ends.” Mitchell stood and stretched, his back popping with the movement. “I knew when my colleagues began dying—suicides, car accidents, heart attacks—that the game was up. So when Mr. Harrigan approached me with a proposal, I agreed to disappear.”
“What proposal?” Will asked.
“In exchange for answering your questions and providing all the proof you’d ever need to take down the studies, Reeves and every man in the CIA who tried to cover it up, he would use his account with AI&I to ensure I disappeared and lived out my days in the boredom that money and luxury and a new identity can provide.” Mitchell glanced around the villa, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck. “I can only imagine how my disappearance has frustrated Reeves. The man never did like a job half done.”
Mitchell pushed the laptop across the table. “Now, I’ve kept up my end of the bargain and you have all your answers.”
A gunshot cracked through the room, the boom bouncing off stone and tile. Vargas hit the wall behind him with a thump, dead before his body hit the ground.
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“You get what you needed?”
Cooper spun, her heart hammering in her throat, but put a hand on Will’s arm when he tried to step in front of her.
Pierce strode in, his gun out and his face set. His gaze strayed from Vargas’s body to Cooper’s face.
“Did you get what you came for, love?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“My turn, then.” He pulled the trigger a second time, and a bullet tore a hole through Mitchell’s face and painted the sunny yellow wall with the back of his head.
Chapter Eighteen
“Good lord, I thought he’d never shut up,” Pierce said, striding toward Vargas’s prone form.
Her heart in her throat, her skin tingling with adrenaline, Cooper reminded herself to breathe. Hard to do when the echoes of the shots still rang in her ears. “Give a girl some warning, would you?”
Fucking Pierce.
It wasn’t the first time he’d appeared in her life like a vengeful wraith. The fact that somewhere along the line it had become easy for her to simply ignore the dead guy on the floor said something about her and what her life had become.
She didn’t plan to examine that too closely anytime soon.
“And where would be the fun in that?” Pierce asked, checking Vargas for a pulse.
She had no idea why he bothered. Pierce was an excellent shot—no way he’d miss at that distance. But he was methodical and a damn stickler for what he considered protocol.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, ignoring the way her pulse still fluttered in her neck. She knew she’d done a piss-poor job of getting her nerves under control when she jumped as Will grasped her by the elbow and guided her closer. He tried to tuck her behind him, his gaze locked on Pierce and the gun he still had in his hand.
“Soothe your gorilla, love, he looks agitated.” Pierce stepped away from Vargas and holstered his weapon.
“Surprise murders have a way of doing that to people!” she snarled, then squeezed Will’s arm, which was tense beneath her touch. “It’s all right. I know him.”
“Well I don’t.” He pivoted to keep her behind him.
Fearless (Somerton Security Book 3) Page 21