Catch and Kill

by J D Lasica

  “Roger that. Dragonfly Team standing by.”

  Savić stepped on the gas. His wildland engine roared through the open gate to the state park. A hundred yards ahead, he saw a forest ranger outside the ranger station waving his arms in the middle of the road, trying to flag him down.

  Couldn’t take that chance. He gunned the engine. The front of the wildland looks like a Mack truck in a surly mood, and he could see the ranger’s eyes widen as the monster vehicle bore down on him. The ranger flew out of the way at the last second as Savić led his procession down the two-lane paved road and toward the targets.

  “That was close,” Groza said with a smile.

  “S.O.B. is lucky I didn’t hit him. We’re under orders. No conversations with the Americans.”

  “You could have at least winged him.”

  “And attract even more police? Think, Groza, think!”

  Groza scowled and went back to monitoring his comms.

  After ten minutes, they reached the turnoff for the first target on the west side of the massive reservoir. Hard to miss, given the flames dancing in the trees. They passed by oaks, spruce, and birch trees lit up like giant burning bodies against the night sky. Savić cracked open his window. The smell reminded him of the battlefields of his youth.

  The road ended at a T-bone with the edge of the reservoir in front of them. Savić turned his vehicle left to hug the small one-lane dirt road that lined the banks. In the headlights up ahead he saw four members of Dragon Team dressed in the same firefighter uniforms as the men in his truck. The Dragon Team directed him to the target area alongside the reservoir a good distance from the fires. The tankers pulled and parked behind him. At the water’s edge, two men in navy frogmen gear were preparing their masks and air cylinders.

  He stopped the engine. His men spilled out. He watched as his operatives hooked up large hoses to the valves on each truck. Two men pulled the hoses out toward the edge of the artificial lake. Groza set up a mobile command support unit and sent up the two drones.

  Savić radioed the team across the reservoir, where they had a nice conflagration going. A living bonfire. “Scorpion Team, report.”

  “This is Scorpion Team, Ezekiel One. We’re lit. Waiting for tankers to arrive.”

  He checked his handheld and saw that the second wave of fire engines, which bore the names and insignia of local fire departments, were five minutes out. He’d instructed his men not to arrive too early or it would look suspicious.

  “They’re almost there, hang on and keep out of sight.”

  They had run this simulation many times without a hitch. The real world, though, was another matter.

  Groza came up beside him, listening to his headset and peering at the readouts from the drone video live-feed. “State police on their way.”

  “Damn! I thought we’d have more time. How close?”

  “Maybe ten minutes out.”

  Savić turned toward his team. “We have less than ten minutes. Go! Go! Go!”

  His men were well trained but a twenty-minute timeline had now collapsed to under ten. He pitched in, grabbing a large hose from the side of the wildland engine and tucking it under his right arm as he hurried toward the granite slope that slanted down to the water.

  He handed the hose to the nearest frogman, ankle deep at the water’s edge. “There and back in nine minutes or we leave you. Got it?”

  The frogman nodded and dove into the water toward the target, hose in hand. The intake pipe was just below a floating pontoon twenty-five yards from the shoreline. Fortunately, no divers were needed for the central floating intake.

  The central intake!

  He reached for his comms. “Dragonfly, execute. Repeat, execute now.”

  “Confirmed, Ezekiel One. We’re on our way.”

  The original plan called for the chopper to arrive after they’d left, but no time for that now. There were no airfields near the reservoir, so the operatives had to take off from a makeshift helipad in a dark empty cow pasture six miles outside of the park.

  Savić returned to the matter at hand. All the divers had taken up positions around the floating intake just beneath the lake’s surface. The lead frogman signaled they were ready. Savić gave the hand signal for his team to open the valves on the sides of the truck and tankers. Torrents of water surged through the hoses. Usually the fast-drain valves allowed firefighters to empty thousands of gallons of water into a portable water tank in just seconds. Tonight they were targeting two subsurface targets.

  Flickers from the fires across the reservoir reflected across the water’s surface. He watched as the frogmen dove to reach the intake pipes submerged just below the floating pontoons moored offshore. The intake was designed to suck down the fresh water near the surface of the reservoir and avoid the heavier silt loads near the floor of the lake.

  Groza checked the night drone footage. “Looks like they’re three minutes out.”

  Damn. This was cutting it close.

  “Get those drones down now.”

  He signaled for the divers to return. Then he signaled for his men to wrangle the hoses and hurl them back onto the trucks.

  “Move! Move! Move!” he ordered. The frogmen climbed onto the shore bank out of breath, removed their flippers, and climbed into the passenger compartment of the wildland, ducking out of sight. The other operatives scurried to the tanker trucks.

  Savić saw the lights of two patrol cars leading a fire engine just over the ridge. He hopped into the driver’s seat, started the motor, and made a wide U-turn at the edge of the burning forest before barreling down the road the same way they’d come.

  He rolled down his window.

  “Do you see it?”

  “No. Do you?” Groza asked.

  “No. But listen.”

  Above the rumble of his convoy, they heard the blades of a distant chopper in the dark sky. He heard a loud splash—the sweet sound of the final watery payload.

  The strain was on its way to New York.

  14

  Samana Cay

  Alex and the other guests abandoned their seats on the outdoor terrace and headed inside to the Bliss Lounge as the sun began to set. Evelyn followed and sat next to him. One by one the guests settled into the theater-style seats the staff had set up in front of a stage that now appeared at the narrow end of the room.

  Rachel and the other staff ambassadors—he counted twelve in all—lined up on stage and she stepped to the front.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the opening of Fantasy Live, a special retreat where your fantasies come true. Please join me in welcoming Lucid, the chief operating officer of Samana Cay.”

  The room filled with applause as the other staffers left the stage. Lucid stepped into the spotlight. Alex noticed Lucid was the only one in the room not wearing smartglasses.

  “Welcome, all. We’re excited you’ve agreed to take part in our soft launch while we fine-tune our offerings for the guests who’ll follow in your footsteps.”

  Evelyn patted him on the arm and whispered, “Hear that? We’re pioneers!”

  Alex smiled and nodded. He was off the market, but he preferred older women and didn’t mind her acting a little flirty.

  Lucid gave a little talk introducing Chairman Incognito, “the founding father of Samana Cay,” before stepping back into the shadows.

  A figure appeared in the center of the stage. Alex toggled to Reality Mode and saw the stage was empty. He returned to Fantasy Mode.

  A brief flurry of applause filled the lounge, but it gave way to uneasy murmurs as the form took shape. Alex narrowed his eyes as a strange-looking creature materialized before the crowd.

  The being’s face morphed from a man to a woman to a beast and back again. A golden glow appeared around its head. The creature appeared to levitate above the stage with fiery red eyes. It had a human body dressed in a flowing white tunic with three pairs of feathery white angel wings fluttering behind its back as if to keep aloft.

&
nbsp; “Honored visitors.” The creature’s voice sounded deep and resonant, a full octave lower than a normal speaking voice. The audio came from speakers above the stage, not his eyewear. “Excuse my appearance. I wanted to be sure I made a lasting impression.”

  Dead silence in the room. Everyone seemed captivated, staring at the stage with mixed expressions of wonder and dread.

  “Today I come to you as a seraph, a six-winged celestial inspired by passages in the Old Testament.”

  A miniature drone camera circled Chairman Incognito, hovering up and down as he spoke. He hugged a glowing golden book to his chest. The whole thing had the air of a mystical experience—a stark contrast to what Alex considered an absurd moniker. Incognito? Please!

  The celestial creature continued. “The word seraphim means ‘fiery ones.’ I hope it conveys the burning love I have for my employees and for our guests.”

  Evelyn leaned close to Alex’s ear. “I suppose he could have appeared as a puppy dog. But no one would be talking about that ten years from now.”

  Alex smiled and nodded. Odd as the Chairman’s appearance was, he was making an impression.

  Alex noticed the recesses of the lounge began filling with virtual creatures—warriors, anime characters, a fierce-looking griffin—paying rapt attention to his words as Incognito floated closer to the guests in the lounge.

  “Today we write a new chapter for Samana Cay—and for the world. The desires that will unfold this week at Fantasy Live have lain hidden in your hearts for years. As we grow older, we lose our sense of wonder. Our dreams grow less vivid. This week we want to reawaken those dormant feelings. We want to help you embrace your youthful passions and indiscretions. For the next week, you are masters of your reality. For the next week, you are all gods!”

  Chairman Incognito’s gaze swept across the audience and locked eyes with Alex. A chill passed through him. Looking at this apparition with its angel wings and golden halo and burning eyes—Alex felt as if he was facing not an avatar but a divine being. A god who recognized his true intent. Perhaps even his true nature.

  “Outside forces beset today’s world with political strife and civil unrest. Let us be your refuge.” He thumped the golden book in his hand. “Remember this place of destiny. This new paradise.”

  Incognito’s three faces forced the semblance of a smile as he floated back to center stage. “A final surprise announcement. A technical achievement that my team has been working on went live moments ago. You’ve all filled out the ‘physical traits’ questionnaire. Whenever an Opt-In who matches your desired type comes within fifty feet, your medallion will vibrate with an alert and grow in intensity as you get nearer. Another opportunity to revel in the life force. You deserve all that awaits you!”

  Alex’s fingers found the medallion beneath his shirt. He was already curious what would happen when it went off. Just one more piece of this strange, strange puzzle.

  Incognito landed gently on stage. His wings came to a standstill as he spread his arms apart. “Now, go forth and enjoy the evening. Let the fantasy games begin!”

  The audience burst into applause but for only a moment. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, Incognito was gone.

  15

  Over the Atlantic

  Kaden was as surprised as anyone to find herself in the middle seat next to Bo and Nico on a commercial flight to Zurich. After the gathering at the nightclub, she barely had time to get home, pack an overnight bag, and snag a few hours’ sleep.

  This isn’t how things are supposed to work, is it? The day after my boyfriend is shot in front of my eyes, I discover that a stranger is my real father and now I’m heading off with him on a secret mission to find the sister I didn’t know I had? Am I really supposed to think only about the mission and push everything else aside?

  She snuck a look at her phone and watched the video of her last day with Gabriel. She’d asked Amelia to pull together the scenes. She started to tear up and stashed it in her pocket.

  She turned to look at Bo. There was still a lot they needed to sort out. This morning at the airport, she sent off a DNA paternity test with cheek swabs from her and Bo—and expedited the order. So there was that. In a few minutes, they’d go over the surveillance plan. But first she had to fill in Tosh and Carlos about her white-hat hackers consultancy.

  She switched seats with Nico on the aisle so Bo could fill him in about the mission—she’d convinced her father that Nico could be a major asset during their trip. Then she swapped seats with Judy Matthews, who was sitting farther back next to Tosh and Carlos.

  “You’re here to tell us about Red Team Zero?” Carlos asked in a hushed voice.

  She nodded. “Yeah, the thumbnail version. Ever hear of red teaming?”

  Tosh—short, stocky, with a nervous manner and bad haircut—nodded yes. Carlos—tall, tawny-skinned, ruggedly handsome—shook his head no.

  She started to explain. “The term was coined by the U.S. Army, but it dates all the way back to the early 1500s when the Vatican created an Office of the Devil’s Advocate to put up arguments against candidates for sainthood.”

  “So that’s where the term ‘devil’s advocate’ comes from?” Carlos asked.

  Kaden nodded. “Today smart corporations use the same concept to introduce contrarian thinking, to stress-test their strategies, to expose security vulnerabilities.”

  “Smart. It takes a hacker to think like a hacker,” Carlos offered.

  “Exactly. We plan and carry out attacks against critical systems as a way to make them stronger. Our motto is, ‘We don’t know what we don’t know.’”

  “Why the zero in Red Team Zero?”

  “Programmer humor,” she said. “We don’t officially exist.”

  Tosh set down his tray table and his fingers began to dance across the keys of his notebook computer. “We use red teaming for our military exercises to get inside the heads of the enemy. You use it for cybersecurity. Sounds like our skill sets mesh pretty well.”

  She smiled. “Bo needs to fill me in about the mission.” She returned to her original seat, ordered hot tea from the flight attendant, and listened as her father mapped out the plan.

  The mission seemed straightforward enough. Powerful figures from around the globe were converging for a world summit in Switzerland’s Zug Valley—ground zero of the cryptocurrency movement—to discuss displacing the U.S. dollar and the euro as the default currencies for moving vast sums of wealth around the world.

  Bo kept his voice low so only she could hear. “Our contacts in the intelligence community believe some of the attendees will include high-value targets who’ve relied on creative use of crypto and blockchain technologies to fund sex trafficking, drug trafficking, black market arms dealing—anything they want hidden.”

  “You mean, when they need it hidden,” she said. “Sometimes they’re in league with their governments.”

  “True.”

  “And in our government, we don’t know which agencies to trust.”

  “I’m saying we have to be careful. In some departments there are forces working at cross-purposes.”

  “You still haven’t told me what agency you work for ‘off book,’” Kaden pointed out.

  “You really need to know that?”

  “I made a leap of faith. I’m here, aren’t I? Now it’s your turn.”

  “DIA.”

  She gave a blank look.

  “Defense Intelligence Agency. The CIA gets all the glory, and that’s fine by us. Our unit is much smaller. In fact, it doesn’t exist.”

  “But you’re saying even the CIA may be compromised?” she probed.

  “That’s a strong word.” Bo’s voice was low and gravelly. “I’d rather talk about what my people are doing.”

  “Okay. Once we land, what do we do?”

  “Zug Valley isn’t a big place. Most of the summit’s events will take place at the main venue and along old town. Most of what gets decided happens in the hallways, the pubs, t
he streets.”

  Nico leaned halfway across her seat to make sure no one else could hear. “We using an alias?”

  Bo reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out two identity cards, and handed them over. Tosh had apparently finished forging them late last night.

  Bo put on his all-business expression and looked at Kaden. “Your new name is Jordan Wilkerson.”

  “Jordan. I like it. Gender neutral.” She hadn’t had that talk with Bo yet.

  Bo shot her a quizzical look but continued. “You’re the heiress to a rare-earth minerals fortune in Alberta, Canada. Copper, iron ore, tungsten. You have assets you want to convert to crypto. You may be open to exploring other business ventures. Higher risk, higher return.”

  He turned his gaze to Nico. “And you, my friend, are Jordan Wilkerson’s executive assistant, Lawrence Dougherty.”

  “They’ll look into my background,” she said to Bo.

  “Check your phone.”

  She did. A message from Tosh was already waiting for her. Even though they were off the Internet, Tosh had set up a private local area network for sharing files during the flight. She accepted the file transfer. For the next five hours, she’d memorize her new identity—even though she was still getting used to the identity she learned about only last night.

  She nudged Nico out of her personal space then turned to face Bo. “I have a lot of questions for you. But let me ask just one. Tell me more about Bailey.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what’s your favorite memory of her?” She realized how that sounded, so she amended, “Up until now.”

  Bo thought for a minute. He closed his eyes as he spoke.

  “Even at six years old, she had a willful streak. Cried if she didn’t get her way—a cry that tore my heart out. Yeah, I spoiled her. Maybe to make up for what I did to you.”

  He opened his eyes to see how she’d react. She kept still.

  “One weekend we all went clamming together in Chesapeake Bay—me, Eileen, Bailey. The tide started to go out, and we decided to take off our shoes and go prancing around in our bare feet. Turned into an epic mud fight. The rule was I could only use my feet and the girls could use anything. Well, you know who lost that battle. We filled two pails with clams, but Bailey was more intent on giving me a standing mud bath.”