by James Hunt
Grimes navigated the halls at a brisk pace until he came to the director’s office. He blew past the secretary and burst inside without permission, shutting the door behind him.
“Grimes, what the hell—”
“There was a break-in and robbery at the plant where our detonation chips are manufactured,” Grimes answered. He kept an even tone even though his heart rate was jacked. “I’m having the analysts put together a breakdown.”
“Yes, I heard.” Director Mallory folded his hands together on his desk. His tone, demeanor, nothing about him conveyed a normal reaction to a high-level security breach. “You can tell your team to stand down. Nothing was taken from the site. It was merely a training exercise.”
“And they handle all their training exercises with live ammunition and assault rifles?” Grimes made no effort to hide the insubordinate tone. “It’s them, isn’t it?”
“You can return to your office, Grimes.” Mallory reached for his glasses, resting low on the bridge of his nose, and pushed them up as he returned to the paperwork on his desk.
And just as Grimes thought, Mallory was protecting them. “It’s a mistake trusting them,” he said, ignoring the order. “We have no idea of their capabilities, but you seem content with sharing information with an organization that we know nothing about!” He slammed his foot into Mallory’s desk, and the director shot up from his chair.
“You’re out of line!” Mallory’s cheeks flushed crimson. “I’m telling you to instruct your team to stand down and immediately discontinue any and all inquiries into the incident.” He steadied the anger in his voice, but the stern tone remained. “Do I make myself clear?”
Grimes stepped backward toward the door. “You’re going to get everyone in this country killed by working with them.” He reached for the door handle. “You can’t control them, but you can be sure they can control you.” He slammed the door shut and stormed back to his office.
When he passed the analysts, Grimes barked for everyone to shut down and continue with their normal duties. He locked the door to his office and paced the carpet in quick, jagged lines. When Mallory looked back on that conversation Grimes knew he would be kicking himself for not pressing any further inquiries. But that was what happened when you played lapdog like Mallory did.
Grimes fished out the key to the filing cabinet and emptied its contents into his briefcase, thinking of the message on his phone. The wheels are in motion. It wouldn’t be much longer now. Grimes snatched the car keys from his desk and headed for the parking lot, ignoring the frightened stares of his team when he passed. He just needed to stick to the plan. There wasn’t any going back now. One way or the other, he was going to prove to the CIA and the rest of the world that unchecked agencies were dangerous. No matter what the cost.
Bryce typed quickly, doing his best to ignore the light smacking that pestered his left ear. A sudden pop, and he winced, his nostrils flaring in frustration. He returned to his typing, the lines of code on the screen shifting and bending to his command. Another pop, and he jumped and turned around. “Will you stop that!”
Sarah’s mouth hung open in mid-chew of the piece of gum that she’d been savoring for the past twenty minutes. “Have you found him yet?”
Bryce sat down, inhaling slowly through his nostrils, and then placed his hands back on the keyboard. “Not. Yet.”
Another gum bubble popped, and Bryce hunched over, lightly smacking his forehead on the edge of the desk. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate with you right in my ear?”
“Oh.” Sarah rolled in her chair right next to him at the edge of his desk, bumping into and shaking the monitors. “Is it hard to try and concentrate on your job when you have someone distracting you?”
“Okay.”
“Are you having an issue performing with me continuing to buzz around like a fly that you just can’t get rid of?”
“I know where you’re going with this,” Bryce said, rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands in defense. “I understand that I can be a little difficult sometimes when it comes to my communication with you in the field. There, are you happy?”
Sarah smiled. “See? Was that so hard?”
“All right, you two,” Grace said, gliding across the room from her desk outside Mack’s office. “I think it’s safe to say that you both annoy each other to the point of insanity.” She stepped between them. “Though I’m not sure either of you was very sane to begin with.”
“He started it.” Sarah pointed her thumb at Bryce and then stood. “I’ll be down at the range.” She spun around, backpedaling now. “Come and get me the moment you find him.”
Bryce rubbed his temples, resting his elbows on the desk as he felt Grace’s hands massage his shoulders. “I don’t understand how her parents didn’t drown her as a child.”
“I heard that!” Sarah’s voice was a faint echo from across the room before she disappeared down the hall toward the armory.
Grace chuckled. “She has her moments.”
Bryce leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to all of the back-door entrances and seedy underground layers of the Internet that he could find. “Vince is doing a very good job of playing hard-to-get.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes to ease the light burning he felt from the hours behind the desk.
“He’s not biting on the computer chip?” Grace asked.
“No,” Bryce answered, exhaling and opening his eyes. “Not yet.” It was the silence that Bryce noticed first, and then when he turned to see Grace chewing on her lower lip, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, he knew she was upset. “What’s wrong?”
The lines of concern framed the supple softness of her cheeks. “I don’t like the fact that Sarah’s so close to catching Vince. She’s come a long way in getting over Ben’s death. All of this is just going to reopen old wounds.”
Bryce glanced to the hallway through which Sarah had left. “You know she still hunts for Branston Clark?”
“He was the GSF board member, right? The one that was helping those guys take over the world’s power grids?”
“Yeah.” Bryce still remembered the sound of the man’s voice and the cold chill that ran up his spine when he heard him speak. There was intelligence with viciousness he’d never heard before. “I’ve tried tracking him down once or twice as well, and I haven’t found anything.” Bryce couldn’t imagine what went through Sarah’s mind when she watched Ben die, but he did know how it made him feel. For better or worse they were partners, and when one of them was in pain they both felt it, whether they liked it or not.
“Look.” Grace cupped both hands around Bryce’s face, the warmth of her palms radiating into the rest of his head and body. “I remember how bad it was two years ago. You can’t let her go back down that road again, Bryce. And judging from the way I’ve heard Mack talk about Vince, he’s more valuable alive. I don’t think his death is something that Mack will be able to absolve Sarah of.” She kissed his forehead. “Help her.”
“I will.” Bryce watched her return to her desk before the boss bellowed for a mission report from Africa and another cup of coffee. She brought in the report but left the coffee pot at the table near her desk.
He knew she was right. Despite all of Sarah’s abilities in the field and all the people she’d saved and all the evil she’d brought to justice, he wasn’t sure she possessed the finesse or mature mind to bring Vince in without killing him. Though he couldn’t blame her if she did.
The shooting range was empty save for the one stall that Sarah occupied. Hardly anyone ever used it, except for the occasional field agent who found themselves bored or who happened to be taking their yearly performance review.
Sarah loaded the magazine into her Colt and took aim at the small rectangular picture that hung from the mechanized rafters fifty yards away. Her muscles remained taut and still from the tips of her fingers down through her arm, torso, legs, and feet. She was a statue, the only sign of lif
e being the light thump of her heart against her shirt.
She squeezed the trigger. The shell ejected, and a single blast of noise filled the narrow block of concrete inside the gun lane. After the quick jerk of the pistol, she repositioned the weapon in the exact same location, her muscles familiar with the stance, and fired again.
But this gunshot triggered the flash of a memory. She heard her own voice from the past, and though it had been nearly two years, it sounded as fresh and as close when she’d first screamed. She fired again, trying to drown out the pain, but the voices still broke through. She heard her brother, then her parents, then Bryce, then Mack, the chorus of judgment reaching a crescendo.
Fourteen blasts sounded in succession, ending the subconscious screaming match and leaving nothing in her ears but the light ringing from the gunshots. The Colt’s slide opened from the empty mag, and brass casings rolled around her boots. Sarah placed the gun on the counter and pressed both palms against the edge and lowered her head. I should have been able to save you.
In the end, she came to the conclusion that Ben’s death was her punishment. Punishment for keeping her job a secret from her family, for missing all of those family events because she was on a mission she couldn’t tell anyone about, for all of the bad deeds that accompanied life and employment in the world of espionage.
Sarah smacked her fist into the button that retracted the practice target at the same time the door to the range opened and Bryce stepped inside.
“I’ve put out enough breadcrumbs to lure Vince out of wherever he’s hiding.” Bryce leaned against the wall, while Sarah kept her eyes on the encroaching target. “How are you holding up?” The machine came to a stop, and the target hung loosely from the clamps that kept it in place. Bryce placed both hands on Sarah’s shoulders, and she barely felt his touch through the cloth of her shirt. “Crossing names out on a list on the inside of your locker won’t bring him back. We need Vince alive, because we need to know how many secrets he’s sold, what he’s told other people about the GSF. Every second he stays out there unchecked is one more that puts everyone in danger. Including you.”
Sarah kept her eyes on the target. “My brother died because of me, Bryce.” She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “No, it’s true. It comes with the job. I just never thought I would be asked to pay that price. But it happened. I know killing Vince won’t bring Ben back. I know that there was more to his death than just my involvement with the GSF.” She turned back to the picture of Vince and plucked it from the clasps that held it in place, then handed the picture to Bryce. “I don’t know what will happen when I see him again. I just know that there are some things I’ll need to work out.”
Bryce held the paper but kept his eyes on Sarah. “And what happens if he knows something we need? Are you still gonna kill him?”
“Mack wants him alive.” Sarah spoke the words to herself, her eyes scanning the floor of the shooting range, her thoughts focused on Ben. “But we can’t always get what we want.”
A message pinged on Bryce’s phone, and he dropped the practice target. “I got a bite on the computer chip.” He took off and Sarah followed, leaving behind a boot print that covered Vince’s face.
Back on the main floor Mack summoned them to their office to examine the string of messages coming in one after the other, so fast that Bryce could barely keep up. Multiple buyers were looking to acquire the computer chip, but after an hour of sifting through all of the messages Bryce still couldn’t determine if any of them were Vince.
“It looks like our best bet is this auction in Cairo,” Bryce said, bringing up the location on the projection. “According to these posts anyone who’s anyone in the field of terrorism will be in attendance.” He turned to Mack. “I’d bet my last dollar that Vince will be there.”
“What type of security are we looking at to get inside?” Mack asked.
Bryce looked up from his computer. “It’s all manual. Guards, guns, and eyes. As long as Sarah shows up with the computer chip, that’s her golden ticket. I think they’re operating under the premise of the whole ‘honor among thieves’ thing.”
Mack grunted and shimmied his girth in his chair. “And you’re sure Vince will show?”
“Only if he wants to finish his nuke,” Bryce said. “We’ve got the only ignition-sequence chip capable of handling a nuclear reaction for the type of blast he wants.”
The chatter fell silent in Sarah’s mind as it was consumed with the single thought of getting to Vince. The snake slithered away once, but he wasn’t going to get away this time. Now she was going to have the upper hand. The bastard had no idea what was coming his way.
7
Heat, sand, and the unmistakable smell of human waste filled the streets of Cairo. The sides of the buildings were worn and faded, and the peddlers in the streets on the city’s outskirts exuded the same tired look as the city itself.
Merchants held out hand-woven cloths and silks, hot food and cold drinks, bobbles and trinkets. Pedestrians haggled with the sellers, and the loud murmur of the crowds matched the noise of the few cars and motorbikes that sped past, most of them honking to disperse the crowd so they could drive through.
The great pyramids of old sprouted high above the modern sections of the city, the ancient skyline touting more prowess than any of the modern marvels constructed within the newer city limits.
Sarah skulked under the cover of her long grey robes with a hood that draped low and concealed what was inside. When she kept her head down, no one could see her face. She bumped into shoulders and did her best to keep the low profile that both Mack and Bryce desperately wanted her to follow.
“Take the next left,” Bryce said. “You’ll follow that alley for twenty yards, and the entrance will be on your right.”
“What’s the password to get in again? Ass-hat?” Sarah snickered under the robe as she sidestepped a puddle of god knows what.
“No,” Bryce said. “It’s not ass-hat.” He pulled up the fake profile he had provided to aid in the ruse when he was peddling the transaction online. “You’re part of the underground militia from Ukraine looking to make a mark against the Russian government’s intrusion in recent years. You’re hoping the funds from the chip will give you the money to expand your military presence in your home country.”
Sarah squinted, gazing into the crowded street. “A young woman, the only hope for a crumbling nation torn apart by war, armed with the key to save them all.” She placed her hands on her hips, lifting her chin triumphantly.
“Yeah,” Bryce said. “Whatever helps you sell the story. Just keep it low key.”
“Discretion is my middle name.” Sarah turned down the alleyway where the entrance to the auction was located and saw the lone guard stationed out front. He sat slumped on a stack of crates, and Sarah saw the outline of what was most likely a 9mm Glock bulging on his right hip. He only stirred when she was directly in front of him.
“Whores go around back.” The guard flashed a snarl with several missing teeth, and what teeth remained were capped in gold and silver. His tanned skinned glistened in a sweat with a stench that rivaled the rest of the city.
“Good, I’ll tell the boys you’re coming,” Sarah said.
The guard locked his black eyes on her, and he reached for the Glock. Sarah snatched his arm, spun him around, and pinned him up against the wall. She gradually increased the tension on his arm, smashing his face against the dirt and grime of the sand and concrete.
“Now,” Sarah said. “I could break your arm, but I think that would piss off some of the boys waiting for you inside, seeing as how they’ll need the use of both your hands, but I’d be willing to let this slide for an apology.”
“I’m not—”
Sarah increased the leverage on his arm, triggering a moan. “Think hard about your answer.”
The guard heaved a few heavy breaths, squirming under Sarah’s hold, but eventually calmed down. “I’m sorry.” It was quick and short b
ut laced with the embarrassment that would haunt him for at least a week.
Sarah shoved him aside, and he rotated the shoulder of the pinned arm, his eyes cast downward. She reached inside her robes and flashed him the computer chip. He simply nodded to the door in answer, and she patted him on the shoulder on her way in. “Don’t worry. A little aspirin, a good night’s sleep along with your favorite enema, and you’ll be as right as rain.”
More heat and the auctioneer’s booming voice greeted Sarah inside. All of the bodies crammed into a small location with no ventilation created a heavy moisture that lingered in the air along with the body odor that seeped from inside the robes of terrorists and other nefarious characters.
The auctioneer spoke in Arabic at such a quick pace that even if she did understand the language, she wasn’t sure she could keep up. The current prize on stage was a shipment of AK-47s recently stolen off a truck in the Ukraine. Hands continued to go up even with the price reaching over twenty thousand.
“Hey!” The shout came from an old man off to the side, his back crippled by either old age or some disease. “You have your item?” Sarah fished out the computer chip and extended it to the old man, who curled a handful of arthritic fingers around the case. He eyed her skeptically. “Don’t get many women around here.”
“I don’t imagine you get any women at all.” By the look on his face, he’d missed the jibe, but he accepted her payment. She watched the device disappear into a back room where all of the other stolen property was most likely kept until its time came to sit on the auction block.
Sarah positioned herself at the back of the room, off to the corner. Some people sat, others stood, but all of them kept to themselves, and those in groups spoke in hushed whispers. “Not much of a networking event.”