Mastermind- Rise of the Trojan Horse

by Tom Wheeler

  “What the hell is this about?” Adam demanded. Jonah tossed the newspaper onto the table. It was the New York Times. Jonah felt like he was bleeding sweat from every pore in his body.

  “Isn’t this a bit obsessive, even for you, Jonah?” Adam snarked.

  “You’re telling me you haven’t heard that someone said a bank was robbed by a robot?”

  “Of course, we discused this, besides, it was on the news. Some half-wit was caught looting and made up a story.”

  “Except the bank was robbed—of gold,” Jonah said. “It is no longer speculation. Where’s EVE?”

  “In the vault. This is madness,” said Adam glancing at the new article.

  “Where’s Jack?” Jonah asked. The door opened and Jack walked in, looking as if he’d jumped out of bed. “This a bad time, Jack?” Jonah asked belligerently.

  “What the hell is going on?” asked Jack, planting his index finger and thumb into his eyes. “Couldn’t this wait?”

  Jack and Adam were now staring at Jonah who pushed the newspaper toward Jack.

  “You don’t know anything about a bank robbery, do you, Jack?” asked Adam, looking Jack in the eyes.

  “What? Of course, I heard about it, we discussed it, but otherwise, no,” he said, picking up the Times article and beginning to read. “Is that what this is about?”

  “Evidently,” said Adam.

  “Let’s take a look,” Jonah demanded.

  “At what?”

  “EVE. Turn off the surveillance. I don’t want any of this on video,” Jonah said as Jack walked over to his computer, then hesitated.

  “Why would we turn off our cameras?” asked Jack, obviously irritated.

  “Because the video would show the three most powerful executives in the company checking on an android we deny having. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if you saw the three of us heading over to a hidden building near midnight?”

  “Like someone would leak it . . . ,” said Adam suspiciously.

  “Please. Leaks happen all the time. Anyway, I’m not taking any chances. Turn it off!” Jonah demanded, and Jack complied.

  “Where are the security guards?” Jonah asked.

  “It’s Sunday. They’re off,” Adam said as the men headed across the grounds in the dark to the large manufacturing facility.

  “What’s this about, Jonah?” asked Jack. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Ditto,” said Adam.

  “That article suggests an android was used to rob a bank,” Jonah said without looking at either of the men as the three crossed the parking lot. “We are here to ensure that it didn’t happen or figure out which of us was involved. This is a serious issue, gentlemen.”

  “If we had anything to do with it, you’re right, but we didn’t,” Adam said. “If you really think we did it, why not just call the police?”

  “And tell them what, exactly?”

  Adam and Jack were silent as Jonah unlocked the building and opened the door, letting them enter first.

  “Consider this verification,” Jonah answered.

  Adam led the way through the security checks. Once they arrived at the vault, Adam opened the door to EVE, who was lying on the table.

  “I told you,” said Adam.

  “Isn’t there a GPS built into EVE?” asked Jonah.

  “Yes,” said Jack, moving over to the computer screen. “According to her GPS,” he went on, looking at the monitor and pausing, “she has been here. See for yourself.”

  “Okay, good,” said Jonah, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the drama. I just . . .”

  “Thought we robbed a bank? Are you kidding? Jonah. You all right?” asked Adam, giving Jonah an intense look. “Take your meds, for God’s sake.”

  “You’ve got every reason to be angry. I’m just paranoid since we are so close,” said Jonah. “While you’re here, Mason fixed the actuator. Our manufacturing facility is at 100 percent capacity.”

  “So the Chinese are happy?” Adam asked. “Is that what you mean?”

  “That was why I was so concerned,” said Jonah as his mind began considering each step of his plan. “Sorry, but yes. This is what we’ve been waiting for. Let’s go next door and discuss our next step.

  “Now? It’s close to midnight,” Adam grumbled. “Can’t this wait until morning?”

  “We’re about to realize our dreams,” said Jonah. “It won’t take but a minute.”

  “What the hell,” said Adam a bit more enthusiastically as they walked to another room down the hall. Jonah put a small computer on the table, then stood next to Jack.

  “Jack? The lights?”

  “Of course,” Jack said, walking toward the light switch.

  As soon as Jack reached the switch, Jonah pulled out his Glock, aimed it at Jack’s head, and fired. The bullet exploded from the barrel, deafening Jonah while hitting Jack on the back of his head. Blood squirted forward, splattering over the walls as Jack fell to the floor. While Jack convulsed several feet away, Jonah quickly sat down and pulled the trigger again. The second 900-mile-per-hour bullet hit Adam’s temple as he tried to react. His body was headed straight to the floor as Jonah grabbed him with perfect timing and pushed him into a nearby chair. Blood was now rushing from both men’s heads as Jonah positioned Adam in the chair as if he had murdered Jack and then shot himself.

  Jonah grabbed the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some residual blood from his face, then pulled out another piece of cloth and used it to wipe the prints from the gun. He put the Glock into Adam’s dangling hand. Jonah then used Adam’s lifeless finger to fire another shot at Jack, to ensure that gunshot residue was left on Adam’s hand.

  “You’re both terminated,” Jonah said, pulling a suicide note from his briefcase and dropping it on the table. “And Jack, you really screwed the pooch with Capucine.”

  His phone buzzed in his pants. He grabbed it without answering, then proceeded to the vault and engaged EVE, a.k.a. Eva Cruise, and the two of them fled in the one car nobody knew existed—an advanced version of the recent car Phoenix had introduced called Akula or, in English, Shark.

  It was eight minutes after midnight.

  “I guess Adam just snapped—I knew something was wrong,” he would tell the authorities, disheveled and in a state of shock that would convince the most experienced detective to classify the death as a murder-suicide. He’d accrued ample evidence on Jack to keep the authorities busy looking into his shenanigans, concluding things had caught up with him when Adam had finally realized what he was doing and taken matters into his own hands. Anyway, by the time they figured it out, even if he’d screwed up, Jonah would be long gone. Besides, he mused, it was his money that allowed the prize to be completed. It would be his legacy, his victory, his destiny.

  

  68

  Murder or Suicide?

  October 7

  Hilton Hotel

  Cape Canaveral, Florida

  The knot in my stomach was similar to a feeling I’d had years ago when I had wondered who would discover my secret. What would I tell my parents? “Hey, Mom, Dad, I got fired because a DVD of me having group sex was sent to NASA, along with some code they think terrorists used to set off the nuke. Could you please pass the potatoes?” Like that would work. Then there was Capucine. I’d gone from a hero to a zero overnight because of something I’d run from for the past few years of my life—the truth.

  I stepped into my black Nike shorts, threw on a red Under Armour dry fit tank top that stuck tightly to my body, and donned my low-fit socks before stepping into my red Asics running shoes. I stuffed a red cotton bandanna into the front of my shorts, threw on my white Ironman sunglasses, and positioned my iPod snugly in my ears, clipping the small aqua device on my waistband.

  “Can life get any worse?” I murmured as my phone began to chime
. I snapped to attention. The number was blocked, but I nervously took out my iPod earbud and answered.

  “Mason Thomas?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?” I asked, sitting down on the bed in my hotel room.

  “My name is Paradyse Ashton. I’m with the FBI.”

  My heart seemed to stop beating. My question answered, in the affirmative.

  “Hello?” asked Paradyse.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said as my heart palpitated. I stood up and moved to the window, left hand on my hip.

  “The assistant FBI director asked me to call you. Were you informed someone from the FBI would be calling?”

  “No, ma’am. Well, I suppose it was inevitable,” I said, hand now on my forehead.

  “He told me you mentioned Jack Dawson.”

  “Who mentioned?

  “Sorry. Dr. Hannah,” came the pleasant voice.

  “I told him I worked for Jack Dawson,” I said, wondering for the thousandth time if I would end up in jail because some psycho was stalking me without my knowledge, or if somehow my code had been used by terrorists. Until I knew where this was headed, I was keeping my mouth shut about that DVD.

  “Do you know anything about him?” she asked.

  “He was my boss. I was going to ask you the same question.”

  “Why would you ask me about Dawson?” asked Paradyse.

  “What do you mean? Why are you calling?” I asked, as I could feel my eyebrows pulling together.

  “I have been asked to arrange a meeting at Langley. Where are you?” she asked without answering my first question.

  “Florida,” I answered, in a semi state of shock. “Why do I need to meet with the FBI?” I asked, sitting back on the bed.

  “To be honest, I don’t know all the details. Do you know a General Crane?”

  “I do.”

  “Evidently there may be a connection between the recent Wells Fargo bank robbery and Phoenix Corporation.”

  “You’re not going to arrest me?” Crap! Why the hell did I ask that? Stupid! Keep your mouth shut!

  “Should I?”

  “No, ma’am. Just checking,” I said, standing up, moving my hand through my hair, relieved.

  “We need you at Langley tomorrow.” There was urgency in her voice.

  “Okay. I didn’t know the FBI was headquartered at Langley.”

  “We’re meeting at CIA headquarters.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “This is a joint operation.”

  “I just lost my job at NASA, and you think I can buzz over to DC?” I asked, still trying to get my head around what I was hearing.

  “What do you mean, you lost your job at NASA?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” she replied.

  “You really don’t know?” I asked, now staring at the floor of my hotel room.

  “I wasn’t . . . ,” she began, then added, “No, I didn’t know about you losing your job. Why’d you lose your job?”

  “First, why are you calling?”

  “Jack Dawson,” she said, beginning to sound a little impatient.

  “You arrested him?” I asked.

  “For what?”

  “Sorry, why are you asking about Jack?” I said, realizing I hadn’t heeded my own advice to keep my mouth shut.

  “Why do you think he should be arrested?” the agent asked, obviously probing.

  “You first,” I replied.

  “He’s dead.”

  The oxygen was sucked out of my lungs, causing me to fall to the bed, dropping the phone down as my hands found my head, which felt like it was going to explode.

  “Mason?” came from my phone. “Mason?” Agent Ashton called again as I pulled myself together and retrieved the phone from the floor.

  “What . . . what happened?” I stammered, taking a deep breath, my hand back on my forehead, my lips quivering.

  “Adam Carbel shot him and then killed himself.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I said. “Are you sure?” Tears were forming in my eyes as I realized I was now unsure whether Jack had played a role in the use of that DVD against me or not. I also began to wonder if I was next.

  “I’m sorry, Mason. I thought that was what you were talking about. Why were you fired from NASA?” she repeated. “And why did you think Jack Dawson had been arrested?”

  “What? A misunderstanding. When did this happen?” I asked, reeling.

  “I can’t tell you any more than I’ve already told you. I booked you on a flight out of Melbourne International Airport in Orlando tonight. They want you here at 11 a.m. tomorrow. I’ll send you the address at Langley.”

  “Who wants me at Langley?”

  “General Crane.”

  “Why would Adam kill Jack?” I asked, my mind racing.

  “Why would you think Jack had been arrested?” she countered again. “You can tell me when you arrive. If you have any problems, just give me a call at this number. I’m sorry, Mason. Please don’t discuss this with anyone, not even your family, okay?”

  I was silent, stunned I hadn’t woken up from this nightmare.

  “What about Jonah Soul?”

  “He is in shock. Evidently he was in Atlanta when it happened. He is on a flight west as we speak.”

  I was speechless.

  “Mason, the United States of America got hit with a nuclear weapon, there was an attempt on the president’s life, and it appears something is going on that you are involved with, whether you know it or not, or like it or not. This is not a game. There is much at stake—perhaps your life.”

  “I’m not a suspect, am I?” I had to ask.

  “No. But only because we know you are in Cape Canaveral, although your original questions were interesting.”

  “Now, how on earth would you know that?” I asked suspiciously, my eyes widened.

  “We can talk about that tomorrow. Still, I need to know you understand.”

  “I understand,” I said solemnly. “How do I get the ticket?”

  “I just sent it to your phone. See you tomorrow. If you have any problems . . .”

  “I’ll call.”

  I fell to my knees. Then I headed to my sanctuary—the place I could forget all forms of agony, pain, regret, and frustration, at least for enough time to temporarily recover from another blow to my heart. The beach.

  69

  Langley

  October 7

  CIA Headquarters

  Langley, Virginia

  With my legs feeling like rubber, I boarded the 8:50 p.m. US Air flight to DC, still shaken by the news that Jack and Adam were dead—something I couldn’t wrap my mind around, besides the fact that I felt like I was about to be slaughtered for breathing. Life was different when people were dying.

  The flight was uneventful, arriving at Reagan National Airport at 10:05. I didn’t tell my parents, nor did I say anything to Capucine, who had tried to call me, likely wondering why I had not returned the call. I took a cab to the Courtyard Marriott Hotel in Chevy Chase, where Agent Ashton had booked me a room despite my desire to stay at my parents’. I headed to bed at midnight, my mind jumping into action until I found myself still wide-eyed at 2 a.m. I did the only thing I knew to do when I couldn’t sleep; I prayed.

  At 5 a.m., after what seemed like a couple hours of sleep, I decided to go for a run, which always helped, although this time my mind raced as the miles passed. What if someone killed both Jack and Adam? I looked around to ensure I was not being followed. I ended up running 15 miles, showered, dressed in a coat without a tie, and then had breakfast before a short black limo picked me up at 10:30 a.m. Within 20 minutes I was being escorted into the CIA, a building I’d never thought I would see the inside of, nor did I care to. I was taken to a small conference room with several bo
ttles of water sitting neatly in the middle, a large screen at the far end.

  “General Crane will be with you shortly,” the man said as I waited.

  “Hello, Mason. I am Agent Paradyse Ashton,” said a 30-something woman dressed in blue jeans, a white button-down shirt, boots, and a lightweight blue FBI jacket. She had brown skin, long dark hair, brown eyes, and a warm face that portrayed intelligence, and strength.

  “Nice to meet you, I think,” I said reluctantly.

  “Don’t worry—this is not about you. Well . . .”

  I blinked hard.

  “The fellow said General Crane isn’t here yet?” I asked as I stood next to a large wooden table surrounded by black chairs.

  “He will be here shortly. I wanted to review some issues with you before he arrives. Procedure,” she said with a slight smile as she removed a voice recorder from her pocket and set it on the table. I stared at it, then nodded as she motioned for me to take a seat. I sat with a jolt in one of the large chairs, which was a bit lower than I was expecting. Paradyse had her arms resting on the table, her hands folded in front of her as I adjusted the height of my chair using the side bar. She switched on the recorder.

  “Do you know Jonah Soul?” she began, although she knew I did from our phone conversation the day before.

  “Yes, he’s chairman of the board,” I said, sliding my chair toward the table.

  “Of . . .?” she prompted.

  “Phoenix Corporation.” I leaned toward the mic.

  “Did you work directly with him?” she asked, having placed a notebook in front of her. “Be as specific as possible.”

  “I reported to Jack Dawson and Adam Carbel. What’s this got to do with Jonah?”

  “Wells Fargo was robbed of thirty 400-troy-ounce gold bars weighing just over 800 pounds.”