The Hidden Vector: A Spy Thriller

by Mathew Snyder

  He found Janey next to a metal coat rack looking for Father Carson’s umbrella. He let her send Father off for the evening, then caught her attention with a wave. She ambled toward him.

  “You look tired,” she said.

  “Just me?”

  She yawned, and he warmed a little at seeing the lines in the corners of her eyes. She hated the little signs of her age, but for him it was something dear. Something about her secret and real that these people didn’t share—a secret thing for his own keeping.

  “Well, you look handsome, too. It’s so nice to see you in that suit. You should wear it more often.”

  She brushed his lapel with her fingertips then clasped her hands at the back of his neck.

  “Janey, do you know Alicia Crowley?”

  “Of course. She’s on the fund-raising committee with me. Nice lady, but kind of quiet. Did you meet her tonight?”

  “Just met her husband. He works with me.”

  “Oh,” she said, a little startled. “I had no idea.”

  He shrugged. “Has she been around long?”

  “Just this year. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. Just figured we would have run into them before,” he said.

  “Well, maybe she’s just the thing we needed. Father Carson just informed me we put together around $32,000 just for tonight. And I think there are still a few nonmembers who haven’t donated yet.”

  She paused and moved her hands to his cheeks. Her lips pouted as she looked hard into his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last several words she said to him. Success for tonight, he had no doubt. Other doubts swirled in his head, but he had the will to admire her freckled neckline and her lively green eyes. How she kept energy for these events he had no idea.

  “You really do look tired, you know,” she said.

  “I am. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

  The smirk on her face reminded him she already knew that. He rarely did sleep well. In younger days, he’d smoke at the bedside while he listened to her dainty breathing. She didn’t seem to mind it then, but things had changed. Now he slept in fits and woke earlier and earlier by the year.

  “Just give me another hour, and we’ll head home to bed,” she said.

  “Janey, I hate to say it, but I need to head into the office.”

  It still felt strange to call it that. It was a practiced thing, a euphemism. It was an office in every way. But he convinced himself long ago this was a very different occupation. Maybe it was a kind of bargain he made with himself. A cause to explain away a lucrative career in his father’s firm. Maybe it really was different. It didn’t matter anymore. He was too far down this path for regret, and Janey with him. She couldn’t ask how work was going and expect any real answers. It didn’t wash away her worry. It just made her more patient.

  Her shoulders moved in a tiny shrug, but she kept her warm hands on his face.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll get a ride. Linda can drive me. It’ll give us an excuse to go for a late coffee. Call me before you drive home?”

  “All right.”

  She kissed him good night.

  ◆◆◆

  Paul entered the operations center. Dark monitors arranged around the island desk absorbed the room’s ceaseless light. Kay Linh sat at her station reading from her glowing screen. Another staff operations officer named Collins occupied the far end of the island desk staring at his own screens in a trance, hypnotized by the thrum of white noise.

  “I told you to take the night off,” he told Kay. “Don’t you ever go home?”

  “I did. Now I’m back. Besides, I thought you were going to do the same.”

  “I’m beginning to doubt you ever having a life outside this room.”

  “You sound like my parents. But I don’t hear you doubting my work ethic.”

  “No. That I am not,” he said.

  She looked up from her screen at him.

  “Nice suit by the way.”

  He sighed and dropped into the empty chair next to her station. “How goes the hunt?”

  She adjusted her glasses.

  “Not much so far. Operations are following up with local assets, but that’s slow going. Otherwise, there is no sign of the target. No activity on him. No public transit. If we had known about the villa before, maybe we’d have something. It’s definitely the origin of the calls we tracked. Same cell tower, everything. Now, nothing. I think whoever this is, they’re operating in a small group. They’re not perfect, but they are very good at correcting their mistakes. They could have moved him anywhere by now. That’s assuming the target is even still alive.”

  They wouldn’t go through the extraordinary trouble of concealing a virologist’s death in a jetliner bombing only to kill the man days later. He couldn’t even be sure the guy wasn’t part of Scorpio himself. He was alive for now. He had to be. They’d kept him alive for some purpose.

  He had reasoned through it a dozen times since yesterday morning. He’d done that twice on the drive over from Bethesda. Khorasani was their link to a bioweapon, but he couldn’t see the connection. The Russians sure seemed to think so with all their protective gear at the villa. He had to work on the assumption that Scorpio had a virus. It was too dangerous to think otherwise.

  “What about the Russians? Anything more there?”

  “The field is reporting a lot of activity since the villa raid. Something definitely has them anxious. They are not being gentle.”

  What else is new? Khorasani had access to one of their most secure facilities. They would not be forgiving, nor would they share details with anyone else. SVR was a dangerous factor here. It was a miracle Pierce hadn’t gotten himself killed.

  “Any word from Pierce?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not since you talked to him last night. They’re laying low in a house in Constanța for now.”

  “I need to talk to him. Get him on a secure line, and get me a headset.”

  He leaned into the chair and raked his fingers through his hair. The hours wore on him. His eyes strained to stay open. He became aware of a keening between his temples, as if the sound grew from far away and halted inside his head. Kay walked around the island to fetch a headset with a wire-thin mic from another desk. She handed it to him and adjusted her own. She called, and Pierce’s voice mumbled into phone.

  “Dodger, Hourglass calling. Stand by,” Kay ordered.

  She opened the line from her screen and gave him a nod.

  “Morning, Dodger,” he said. His voice came out low and harsh as he adjusted the tiny mic. His thumb rolled over it and sent a scratching wave over the line. Silence followed, and he wondered if they had lost the connection.

  Pierce interrupted the pause with a long sigh. “This early morning routine is becoming a bad habit.”

  “You know what they say, Dodger. No rest for the wicked.”

  “You would know,” Pierce said.

  At least Pierce had his wits about him. He’d need that much and more. Paul thought about sending someone to relieve him. Pierce’s reports had slowed. His language had become terse, lacking his usual talent for important details and his knack for sharp inferences. Reading his officers’ reports was like looking at their portraits. Their voices and their words took shape, and he knew each like a memory. Pierce’s reports of late lacked a certain style, he hated to admit it. The weeks had been hard on him since Georgia.

  “How’s the countryside? I hear you’re taking in the sights.”

  “It’s quiet now. Not really seeing anything familiar.”

  He wanted to share the sentiment. Things at Langley weren’t any better after losing all his progress yesterday. From the corner of his eye he noticed Collins leaning into his desk, his hand on his temple. Everything said in the operations center was fair game. He should have nothing to hide. Collins had clearance for this. As Pierce’s staff ops lead, Kay Linh should hear every word. He wasn’t taking that chance. If he was right, Sco
rpio was coming for Pierce. They didn’t need any more advantage than they already had. Despite everything else, Pierce did get them this far. Paul owed him an honest warning.

  “Dodger, hang on one second,” he said. He fumbled at a button on the headset wire to mute the call.

  “Collins,” he said.

  Collins’ head made a nervous jerk toward him.

  “You and Kay take a walk. Now.”

  Kay frowned and pushed herself away from the desk. Collins shot her a look. She rolled her eyes as she left through the secure door. Collins followed with his shoulders slouched forward, his shoes scuffling the floor as he went.

  “Pierce. It’s just you and me on the line. I’m alone.”

  From the earpiece he heard a rustle as Pierce sat up in his bed. Paul broke protocol in saying his officer’s name. It got the attention he needed from Pierce.

  “Nomad’s nearby,” Pierce said. His voice hushed.

  “Good. Keep him close. Listen carefully. This new target you uncovered? He’s upped the ante for us here. It’s getting a lot of attention.”

  “I bet. Staff ops sent me the run down on him already. He’s got the kind of résumé that should get our attention. Explains a lot about our friends the other night.”

  “Those friends of ours have long memories about that kind of thing. You’re lucky to be waking up at all this morning. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I could use a lot more support than I’ve been getting, for a start. What did you want me to do, let it go? Let SVR take every lead out in a body bag and leave us worse off than we already are? I was thinking that I would come through. I did.”

  “And I appreciate that. You know I do. But you don’t do me any good dead. You put yourself and your fellow officer at the end of a barrel. Christ, you walked into a biohazard shooting gallery. That’s not smart. That’s not even brave. That’s just dumb luck. I expect you to know the difference.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Same as always. You locate the target. The Russians are a distraction, but you have to deal with that blowback now. There’s plenty I can’t explain even now, and I’m not going to. You’re not the only one who stepped into a mine field. This thing runs deep. Understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “We got their attention. Don’t say it. Do not mention their name, not now, not in any of your next reports. Don’t get that on anyone’s morning briefing. I don’t think they want it that way.”

  “Since when did that stop us? They can’t stop us from doing our job. We owe it to the people they’ve killed, damn it. We’re making progress. So, we do our job. I find the target. You get the support we need from seventh floor. And we make them pay.”

  “It’s not that easy. You’re going to have to go with me on this. We are now their contingency plan. Get it? You and me. Think about what they’ve done already. How do you think they stay ahead of us? You think they’ll just lay low after this? That they’ll just wait it out, let us chip away at them while they bide their time? Is that what you would do?”

  “No.”

  “Then we understand one another. The wind has changed, Pierce. I expect it to blow in your direction.”

  “I hear you.”

  “You’re right about one thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We will make them pay for this. I promise you that. Take care.”

  “You know I will.”

  He removed the headset and placed it next to its twin on Kay’s desk. He stared at the wiry things, his mind lost in the rare quiet of the room. He wondered when it was last empty, when every desk’s officer left his operatives without tether to their superiors. It was a room that never knew sleep, no sunrise or sunset. The operatives would not notice. Most of them walked at that moment under a Sunday sun, inconspicuous in their learned surroundings. They blended in with foreign populations like a discolored thread in a vast fabric. If dangerous action unraveled them from that fabric, they did more harm than good for the Agency.

  Pierce knew this, and yet he possessed a dedication distinct from his peers. He lacked their fears, which was why Paul liked him more than most. Pierce had purpose as clear and as reasoned as any officer he’d known. The man was no fanatic. There were some within NCS driven by strong and unsubtle emotions for their country or God or a seething need for vengeance in a world teetering from evil acts by evil men. These weren’t things Paul tried to sort out for himself, least of all those he had witnessed first-hand. He had faith enough for that, though it never came easy. But with a dozen men like Pierce he’d need less of that faith. For now, he and his teams did their part, and that had to be enough.

  In the hall, he found Collins leaning against the opposite wall. He opened his eyes wide at Paul’s appearance.

  “Kay went for coffee,” he said. He fussed for his ID to open the door and return to his desk.

  “Anything from your team?” Paul asked as he passed.

  Collins shrugged and shook his head.

  “Nothing new. They’re in Istanbul now. Could go anywhere from there.”

  Paul nodded and let the door close between them. Maria Hessler’s trail was cold. He’d have to reassign the team to something useful soon. They couldn’t afford wasting anyone with the threat taking on an uglier shape. He would have no trouble convincing Suzanne. She made no secret of her hope to relieve Pierce, but the call remained his for now.

  Kay met him in the hallway. She balanced a tall cup of coffee in her palm and covered the steaming top with her other hand.

  “That didn’t take long,” she said.

  She blew on the cup and steam faded into nothingness in the darkened hallway. The coffee’s burnt aroma filled his nose and mouth and again he was aware of the tired ache lurking in every muscle.

  “I’m headed back to my office to catch up on today’s reports. I’ll be here for another hour or two.”

  “All right. See you later.”

  “Kay,” he said. He scanned the empty corridor. “Did anyone else contact you since I’ve been out?”

  She tilted her head sideways as if rewinding the day, separating it from the blur of days just like this one.

  “Suzanne checked in a few hours ago.”

  “Anyone else? What about accessing files?”

  “I haven’t checked. I doubt it. You want me to verify?”

  “Do it. Look for anything. Any modified date that doesn’t seem right, any logs of user access.”

  “What am I looking for, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. I guess you’ll know if you find it. And let me know if you do.”

  “Okay.”

  “And, Kay?

  “Yeah?”

  “Just let me know. No one else.”

  She gave him a puzzled shrug. He took it as affirmation and headed to his own office to read into the late hours of the night. He thought about Janey, somewhere in the city enjoying a night cap with her friends before she settled into a room as dark and lonely as his office, only far more comfortable. She would be asleep when he crawled into the bed beside her listening to her tiny breaths in the night air. With the rain, she would open the window and let the stir of the city creep in to lull her to sleep.

  For now, his eyelids weighed heavy while he read about the world and its constant grind toward calamity. Part of him envied Pierce then. He knew better, but he almost wished he worked independently like Pierce did. As a man dedicated to his work, with purpose and without guilt. For Paul, the guilt was tradition from his Catholic family inheritance. He felt it for leaving Janey alone. For thinking that Pierce was better off out there. He felt guilty for envying Pierce and his dedication.

  But that same dedication drove Pierce’s wife away. He could tell Pierce about Sarah’s visit. That she had moved on and found someone. She wanted him to know that, and that it meant some guilt lived within her as well. Paul was her confessor the night she visited him in the street. She sought absolution and Pierc
e’s blessing through him. Some part of her obviously still cared for Pierce. He hadn’t thought much about her since their encounter, and for that he now carried another sin. Someday maybe he could tell Pierce. For now, he’d say nothing after all that Pierce had faced these weeks and what lay ahead.

  After 2:00 a.m. when his eyes couldn’t focus enough to read anything more, he wandered out to his car. He could use his phone once again to reach the outside world. He started the car and looked at his phone. No call from Janey. He frowned and wondered if he should wake her. She had asked him to, but that wasn’t why he did it. He needed to hear her comforting voice to guide his thoughts toward home.

  He dialed her phone and listened to the echoing chirps ring without answer. Again he called as he pulled his Lincoln onto the wet blacktop and coursed down the open highway. No answer. She must be fast asleep, drowsy from the wine. He pulled onto their quiet street and crept into the house where the cool air conditioning welcomed him still and silent. Every window was shut tight, the air drained of all humidity. He wanted the smell of and the patter of leaves drying in the dark, a sound to lull him to sleep beside his wife’s warmth.

  In the kitchen, he emptied some weight from his pockets. His keys, his wallet, his badge. He was eager to rid himself of it all and lay his jacket over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Janey would cluck at him tomorrow to hang it up, maybe when she returned from mass. He’d have to miss at this hour, though he wouldn’t get much sleep despite it. He added the realization to his accruing guilt.

  He stood at the foot of the stairs, untucking his shirt, and glimpsed the slick black of the driveway where he’d met Sarah a few weeks ago. Now she stuck in his head like a ghost. He’d tell Pierce when it was all over. Both of them deserved at least that. Janey hadn’t inquired why she came to see him. He kept this from her for the Agency’s sake, for Pierce’s safety. That’s what he told himself, but he knew better. Janey certainly did. She knew better than anyone what it meant to wait for someone’s secrets, to sleep beside someone while he lay awake thinking of a dozen other people’s lives. Now he just needed to surrender to sleep beside her and forget it all for what was left of the night.