by James Hunt
Taylor Grimes sifted through emails, deleting most, replying only to a select few. His desk was immaculate, everything from his laptop, mouse, and secondary monitor to his smartphone mapped out in a perfect grid. No pictures of family, no personal items of any nature. He didn’t have time for such things.
The screen of his smartphone lit up, accompanied by a buzz that stole his attention away from his inbox. He reached for the phone and saw that the message had come through the app he’d created.
Wheels are in motion. Just make sure you hold up your end of the deal.
The message remained for only five seconds after being opened, and then it dissolved, wiped clean and completely untraceable from his device or from the device from which it had originated.
“Hey, boss.” The words accompanied a knock on the door frame, and Luke hovered just outside the office, knowing not to enter unless given permission. “We’ve just had something come up.”
“What is it?” Grimes pocketed his phone and closed the lid on his laptop, already knowing what was coming.
Luke inhaled, his tie swinging from his neck and his cheeks growing pallid. “We’re not sure.”
Grimes followed Luke into the bullpen, where clusters of analysts sat in their task-specific pods, monitoring situations on their screens, most of their eyes bloodshot from the staring contests that were their jobs. Luke stopped behind a younger woman with her hair braided then curled into a bun on the back of her head. She had high cheekbones and looked as though she were drowning in the plain white blouse she wore. “Harper, go ahead and show Deputy Director Grimes what you showed me.”
“Yes, sir.” Bone-thin fingers glided effortlessly over the keyboard, and a video surfaced of a gunfight in a small lobby. At least twenty guards opened fire on an empty elevator, and then the doors closed, and the video ended.
Grimes shrugged. “What am I looking at?”
“Sir, this was the site of one of our private contractors that provides the detonation chips for our nuclear program.” Luke tapped Harper on the shoulder and pointed to the screen. “Go ahead and play that video back and then enhance the image you showed me.”
Harper complied, and when she froze the video and zoomed in on the far edge of the elevator, there was a sliver of black. Grimes squinted and leaned in closer, playing up the charade. “Do we know who was inside?”
“No, sir, and as of right now, most of the public doesn’t know what is manufactured there. Officials with the company are playing it off as a work dispute that happened on the premises.” Luke pointed to the screen. “But that elevator is coming up. And we’ve done some imaging of the premises, and there is something below ground. We just don’t have clearance to ascertain what it is.”
Grimes was already halfway down the hall when he turned back to Luke and Harper. “Send that to my secure email. I want everything you have on that video, and I want a summary breakdown in twenty minutes.” He clapped his hands like a football coach inspiring his team, the analysts diving into their work upon his command. “Let’s move!”
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 befor
e 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 life 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.
Chapter 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.”
