Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  Well, he thought, as the three men exchanged perfunctory words, I guess I shouldn’t complain since I assume we’re moving on to the next phase and hoping we see progress.

  “Okay, Leo, we’ve looked at your quarterly report, but go ahead and give us a brief summary before we talk about Jefferson. First, the situation inside Site 23.”

  Sinclair shuffled his papers, though he didn’t need to look at them. Most details hadn’t changed in the last three months.

  “Well, if you want the quickest possible summary, I’d say the situation is the same as for the last year. The scientific staff is making progress, but my reading is that although the interactions are getting more complex, it’s broadening, rather than deepening. My evaluation is we need a breakthrough to make any significant advance beyond this point. If we don’t, then I would not be surprised if we tread water indefinitely.”

  Hardesty shifted in his chair. “Goddammit, and you still don’t have any idea what it is?”

  “Do we know what it actually is?” said Sinclair, reframing the question. “No, but the scientists have the same list of what it might be.”

  Wallens spoke for the first time. “How about the staff? Is the cover story still holding up, and are the basic functioning and morale at the site still acceptable?”

  “Yes,” reflected Sinclair, “with a few minor exceptions, the group continues to function as a very efficient community. The extra steps taken in setting up the site and monitoring each individual’s adaption to the environment continues to pay off. If I were giving performance reports on the civilian staff, I would give special recommendations to the site psychologist, Wilbur Huxler, and the site’s administrative assistant, Bre Huttleston. Dr. Huxler is doing an outstanding job keeping tabs on everyone at the site. As for Huttleston, she’s a natural social organizer and somehow manages to keep everyone involved in some form of social activity.”

  “And security,” Hardesty probed. “Is the Canadian agent still trying to find out about Level 3?”

  Sinclair smiled. “Well, he keeps trying, but as far as I, Huxler, and the two security agents on site can determine, he hasn’t discovered anything.”

  “Well, that’s something,” interjected Wallens. “I’m surprised we’ve managed to keep security this long. The Level 3 people have turned into permanent staff, and, as far as we can tell, the Levels 1 and 2 staff, current and past, either haven’t found out the secret of Level 3 or talked outside shop. This can’t go on much longer. This is all going to come out. I’ll be surprised if we keep a lid on this for more than a year, two on the outside.”

  “So,” said Hardesty, jumping to the main topic, “Jefferson says the basic system is operational. Do you agree, Leo?”

  “Operational? I have to accept Jefferson’s opinion. I’ve read all his reports, but he’s the one on the ground in Santa Clara. But I think we need to face facts. The system is only as ready as it’s going to be until we can get it field-tested. Jefferson believes the system is stable as far as basic functioning. But we simply won’t know what modifications might be needed until we use it. So, until we get to the site, I don’t believe any more improvements are meaningful for our purpose.”

  “Do you still believe the three key people in development are sufficient to make these modifications on site?” Wallens asked.

  “From the company updates and Jefferson’s assessments, then yes, that is my recommendation. One of the major specifications was for the system to require minimal support staff. It’s effectively an interactive black box. What’s left is to actually try and use the system and then make adjustments to algorithms and interconnections in the basic system as needed.

  “That doesn’t mean we won’t run into major problems, but the kind of testing that comes next will determine what, if any, changes are needed.”

  Hardesty appeared skeptical. “And what about trouble getting the three of them to agree to move to the site?”

  “I don’t believe so,” replied Sinclair. “They evidently work quite well as a team, and Jefferson believes they’ve all bought into the project so strongly that they’ll want to keep working on it. That’s one reason I think there won’t be a problem.

  “The second reason is they’ve never been told what the purpose of the system is. They were given a set of specifications but nothing about the actual application. Their curiosity will work for us if they are told that they’ll find out what the application is only if they’re willing to move.

  “Of course, it’ll help that we’re going to offer twice the salary they’re making right now. Actually, Jefferson suggested we scale back the salary offer. He thinks the first two factors are strong enough that offering too much salary is liable to raise flags and probably not necessary. I’m inclined to stick with more money, at least for Cain and Nieze. Money’s hardly a factor for Markakis. He’s already filthy rich, but in his case, getting to play with the most advanced system he knows about is incentive enough.”

  “And if any of them don’t agree to join?” queried Wallens.

  “Then we have our fallback options,” Sinclair stated firmly. “We can try and bluff using the national security club, and in the end is a worst-case scenario where we just take them into custody and move them to Site 23 whether they want to go or not.”

  Hardesty nodded, but Wallens shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Let’s hope the final option isn’t necessary. We’d be more than skirting the letter of the law—we’d be leaping over it.”

  Sinclair shook his head. “I don’t think any such issue is going to matter in the long run. The three men might piss and moan at first, but once they see what we’re doing, they’d probably pay us to stay involved.”

  “Hell and damnation,” Wallens said wearily. “I suppose you’re right. Even after several years, it’s sometimes hard to completely get my mind around it.”

  At that comment, Hardesty broke into a rare smile. “Oh, no. I think I’ve given that up long ago. Sometimes I feel like we’re running up a steep sand hill and wondering if we’ll ever reach the top.” Hardesty paused, then continued. “And if we do get there, what will we find?”

  “It’s like a variation on the old story of riding the tiger,” said Sinclair. “Once you’re on, you can’t get off. All we can do is hope for a resolution we can live with.”

  The three of them sat silent for a few moments, each in his own thoughts.

  Hardesty moved on. “Okay. Sounds like the VR system will be moved to Site 23 along with the three key personnel. Do we agree?”

  Wallens said yes and Sinclair nodded.

  “And what about Captain Jefferson?” Hardesty asked. “This has already interrupted his career path. How’s he going to react to another year and possibly longer?”

  Sinclair responded solemnly, “I think for everyone who understands what is really going on, issues of future career tend to go away. In Captain Jefferson’s case, I think we should consider ourselves fortunate he’s worked out so well. I’m confident he’ll accept moving to the site, if with some initial reservations until he finds out what’s at stake.”

  Hardesty spoke up. “We’ll go ahead and bump him to major a little early. That should help soften the assignment, along with promising a slot at the Command and Staff College at Fort Leavenworth once he returns from Site 23. That would normally be a hoped-for step, career-wise. You can assure him a reserved spot will be waiting for him. Whether he attends the course is something else, depending on what happens at the site. But there’s no reason to tell him that.”

  Sinclair nodded. He agreed with Hardesty’s assessment, although he hated not being candid with Jefferson. But then again, he agreed with the implication that once anyone understood the full ramifications of the project, they tended to lose focus on other issues.

  “All right,” said Hardesty, “we’re set to move into the next phase at Site 23. I hope to God something comes of it . . . well, I think I do.” He sat back in his chair.

  Wallens continued. “A
nd now the woman, Ms. Jill Hardesty.”

  Hardesty flushed. “Have you figured out how the fuck a woman in the Pentagon tour office got hold of the file?”

  “I looked into it,” said Wallens, “and it appears to be a series of random circumstances and personnel incompetency. Just bad luck she has the same last name as you. As far as security has been able to tell, the file was directed to you, Justin, but the security system was undergoing an update on the software. Instead of your current login being noted as the necessary recognition for delivering and signing off on the file, the system couldn’t find your current login and took a login from the e-mail system we quit using ten to fifteen years ago—’jhardesty.’ It was supposed to have been discarded once the system changed the login, but somehow it survived. We’re still trying to track down exactly how. When the courier asked the system for your location, it told the courier that jhardesty was in the tour office.”

  “But even so,” growled Hardesty, “didn’t it occur to the idiot to think it odd a secure file from the White House was being delivered to the tour office? And to a GS-3 clerk?”

  “The courier is a marine captain. Naturally, he didn’t know he was returning the previous report on Site 23 after the president read it. He wanted to get the delivery done and go out for a hot date that evening. It may also be there were some errors made in assigning this person to such a sensitive position in the first place.”

  “What!” harrumphed Sinclair. “Are you talking about the courier’s incompetence or that of whoever put him in that position?”

  Wallens smiled humorlessly. “Turns out he’s a nephew of an unnamed rear admiral in the intelligence directorate. There may have been some inappropriate strings pulled to get him into this position. As it happened, he was about to be shipped to Afghanistan when the surprise change in assignment came through.”

  “Well, kiss my ass,” cursed Hardesty. “I suppose keeping a low profile means there’s nothing we can do about a dickhead admiral?”

  “No,” said Wallens, “we just have to let it go. But I’m putting into place more layers of security, so something like this doesn’t happen again.”

  “But even so,” puzzled Sinclair, “didn’t she still need to put in a password in addition to her login when the courier handed her the file?”

  Wallens answered ruefully, “Here is a case that makes you wonder if either God is laughing at us, or our ideas of probability are totally fallacious. You’re right, Leo, she had to input a password into the keypad from the courier in order to open the courier case. As far as we can tell, not only was the courier in a hurry, but this Jill Hardesty was trying to leave to make her train home. At least, that’s the assumption from what a coworker said about her trying to catch a specific metro train every day. Anyway . . . when she input on the keypad, she hit a key one position to the right of where she intended.”

  Hardesty looked over at the keyboard of his computer. “Don’t fucking tell me that she typed in my old password!”

  “That’s exactly what happened,” Wallens said in resignation. “One letter difference. If you look at each of the required steps for her to get this file and put them together, the chances of this happening are essentially impossible.”

  “Well,” said Sinclair, “I’ve got bad news for statisticians and their probability theories.”

  “Okay, okay,” Hardesty interjected, “given the situation, what are our choices with her?”

  “I don’t see there are many choices,” Wallens said regretfully. “Even if she doesn’t have any idea of the significance of what was in the file, we can’t take the chance of her being loose. She’s got to be isolated.” Wallens paused and then continued. “Whether she wants to be or not. The complication is she’s got a two-year-old child. Obviously, she’s not going to leave the child, so it’ll have to go with her.”

  “But how is that going to work out?” said Hardesty. “Leo, what do you think? When I called you earlier this morning, I asked you for some brilliant solution. I don’t think this case is going to work like the few other times we had to sequester a staffer who’d worked at the site.”

  Sinclair grimaced. “Having her and the child at Site 23 is not as outrageous as I initially thought, and there are precedents. Several countries allow family groupings, including children, to reside at such remote sites. The Argentinian Esperanza Base in Antarctica is one example. They’ve had children at the site for over fifty years, including schools. Some of the children are there year-round, typically, ten to fifteen at any one time, although these are a little bit older. However, they’ve even had births.

  “Plus, Dr. Huxler added an interesting perspective. From the standpoint of how a child would fit into the Site 23 community, Huxler thinks there might be significant benefits. One negative of these remote sites is that people tend to lose contact, especially emotionally, with what would be perceived as normal life. This includes children. Not that the children have to be theirs . . . just the feeling that a community should have children. Huxler thinks the kid would help with community morale.

  “The second issue is safety of the child. I recognize that we’re not taking that into primary consideration, given the stakes, but it’s something we can’t avoid thinking about. Huxler thinks there’s a good chance the child will be effectively adopted by a good portion of the staff at the site, and the child and the mother will probably have more nannies to look after the child than there are hours of the day. Given these considerations, even if it doesn’t seem optimal, I think we’re forced to go ahead and move Ms. Hardesty and the child up to Site 23.”

  “So,” said Wallens, “what’s the approach to get her up there?”

  “One way is to bluff,” said Sinclair. “We’ll play the national security card, with at least an implied uncertainty about her keeping custody of the child. As you said, the primary objective is to get her acquiescence for the move. Everything will go smoother, now and in the future, if it at least appears to be with her agreement.

  “Turns out she’s not in regular contact with her family—evidently some kind of family split between her and the rest. Plus, since she’s moved to Washington, she doesn’t seem to have developed much social life—what with finding and doing her job at the tourist office and caring for the child. So, I don’t think it will be a major problem for her to simply disappear. I’ll arrange for someone to visit her and do what’s necessary. They’ll be accompanied by a couple of FBI people. She’ll be given the impression how serious the entire matter is. The file will be retrieved, and the agents will ascertain whether she broke the seal. There’s no way she can close it back up to its original condition if she’s opened it and read the contents. I’m holding out hope that she hasn’t read it, and we’re home free with her.

  “But if our person can’t be certain she hasn’t read the contents, she’ll be made to believe she’s in serious trouble. We’ll also throw in the possibility of generous pay for the length of time she’s transferred to some unidentified location and a promise of a good job someplace else in the U.S. after she returns. Then, as a last resort, as with the three from Virtual-Reality Inc., we can always fall back on taking her into custody and shipping her off, whether she agrees to go or not. However, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

  “And you’ve got somebody we can trust and who can intimidate her?” asked Wallens.

  Sinclair nodded with a droll expression. “I have the person in mind.”

  “All right,” said Hardesty, rocking back in his chair and stroking his chin with his fingers. “I think we covered everything. Leo, you’ve got the go on all this.”

  Sinclair nodded. “I’ll start everything rolling, and I’m projecting we should have everyone on site in not much more than a week.”

  Hardesty stood up, reached across the desk, and held out his hand for Sinclair. “Thanks, Leo, I wish us all good luck in this. Although I mainly wish the hell it never happened.”

  “Same here, Justin,” said Sinclair,
reverting back to a more familiar address with a superior two ranks higher now that the official business was over. “I’m afraid, one way or another, we’re going to see where the tiger takes us.”

  Wallens, in turn, took Sinclair’s hand. “Well, Leo, I don’t know which of us will have the more interesting time this next week. You’re headed back up to the site with the system and the new people, while we figure to be briefing the new president in about two weeks. That’s always one of those ‘hold your breath’ moments.”

  “Do you think that will be a problem?” asked Sinclair.

  Hardesty replied first. “No, at least Bush and Obama both think he’ll be okay. I only hope we don’t hit a wall. I don’t want to go through what our predecessors did with presidents they were scared of sharing the knowledge with. Running this kind of an operation without the president knowing is not only nigh onto impossible, though they did it, but at least violates our oaths, and it’s certainly damn illegal.”

  “Well,” said Sinclair, “that’s in your camp. I’m off to take care of my end—getting the necessary people to the site and then seeing what we can do.”

  “Good luck, Leo,” said Hardesty, “and I hope to God you can manage a breakthrough in the next six months or so. We all know we’re dancing on the edge here. I think we can all agree time is running out.”

  Sinclair lacked their perspectives, but his intuition agreed with them.

  CHAPTER 4

  ZACH MARJEK

  Greenbelt, Maryland

  On the last day of his former life, Zach Marjek woke with a jerk of every muscle, his heart racing, and breaths coming fast and shallow. The same dream occasionally reoccurred, but now it was three nights in a row. Unlike the last two nights, this time the details were still vivid enough to dredge up emotions from what had happened.

  ***

  He’d been tagged to lead a recon mission. He and four other CIA contractors had been sent to find a Taliban staging camp supported by Iran. Faceless analysts sitting in front of monitors God knows where and sifting through intel reports had concluded there was an 80 percent chance the site existed and was training for a putsch to topple the Kabul leadership. The region was controlled by supposedly competent and loyal elements—whatever that meant in a cesspool of shifting allegiances and endemic corruption. The mission would happen without informing local authorities. Having the Afghan forces involved was the same as announcing an operation over the Internet. Understandable concerns were vetoed by a State Department lackey who parroted Washington’s position that the province was pacified.