Grave Games: A Collection Of Riveting Suspense Thrillers

by James Hunt

  “Two days home from school have left the house a little messy, but everyone is okay. The neighborhood is getting a little jumpy, though.” Becca lowered her voice to a whisper; no doubt she was still within earshot of the kids. “There have been a few fights that have broken out since yesterday, and the police were called to break up some domestic dispute next door. People are nervous.”

  “We can send someone over to keep an eye on the house.” Sarah looked to Bryce, who was lost in the world of data. “I could even swing by again.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine. But do you know how much longer this is going to last? Work keeps asking questions.”

  “Soon. I promise.” It was a lie, but it was a small one. “Can you put the kids on?”

  A few seconds later, Ella and Matt took turns screaming into the receiver, telling Sarah every detail of what they’d been doing playing hooky from school, though Matt seemed more excited about it than Ella. Her niece was a bookworm like Bryce, while Matt was all action. Still, she had a soft spot for that little girl. “Just don’t give your mom too hard a time, and if Matt gets out of line, you tell him that I will give him the worst atomic noogie that he has ever felt.”

  Ella giggled. “Okay. Thanks, Aunt Sarah.”

  After a quick goodbye from Becca, Sarah hung up. The influx of adrenaline from hearing the kids’ voices had sucked away what energy she had left, and she felt the weight of the past few days drag her down. Sleep had come in the form of a few hours here and a couple there, but even she recognized that she needed rest. “I’ll be in the bunks.”

  Bryce waved a hand absentmindedly in acknowledgement, and Sarah stumbled to the back rooms where the cots were set up for agents to use between missions. The bed was stiff as a board, but the moment Sarah’s head hit the pillow, she was fast asleep. And if she was hoping for a dreamless nap, she didn’t get one. She rarely did.

  Rest was always plagued with nightmares of her brother, Ben. Every trip into her subconscious ended with a gunshot and a hole in his stomach, his face a pale white with a greenish tinge. Death lingered in the air, and he reached out his hand, asking her why this had happened to him, why she had let him die. And even after repeating the same drama thousands of times, she still didn’t have an answer.

  Sarah’s only response in the dream was to try and reach out to him, but no matter how hard or fast she ran, the nightmare never allowed her to get close. And then, after the tumultuous affair, she would jolt awake, her body covered in a slick sheen of sweat, fists clenched, and her heart pounding like she had just finished a ten-mile run.

  Sarah sat up, swung her legs off the side of the cot, and looked around to make sure she was still alone, slowly uncurling her fingers from tightly balled fists, and pressed her palms into her eyes as though she could dig the nightmares from her head. Thoughts of Becca, Ella, and Matt floated to the surface of her conscious mind. She couldn’t bring Ben back, but she would never let Becca, Ella, or Matt share his fate. No matter what.

  “Sarah,” Bryce said, his voice coming through the communication link in her ear and making her jump. “Come quick.”

  Sarah pushed herself off the cot and broke into a light jog. “Really? You’re in the next room, and you use the communication link instead of just coming to get me?” She shook her head. “And people say I’m the lazy one.”

  “I’ve got something.” Bryce’s voice echoed in her ear from the close proximity to his headset, and it triggered feedback to squeal in her ear. She thumped Bryce on the head with a flick of her finger, and he turned, removing the headset. “Look.” He pointed to the screen with one hand while rubbing the thumped spot with the other.

  The code on the screen might as well have been a foreign language, but Sarah played along. “Yes.” She rubbed her chin, squinting and nodding. “Numbers.”

  Bryce rolled his eyes and rolled closer to the edge of his desk. “This is a receiver code that allows Black Box to manipulate the nukes. I can reverse engineer this and create a type of virus that disrupts the signal from Black Box so Grimes can’t detonate any of them.” He exhaled. “I’ll only be able to block it for a specific amount of time before Black Box’s AI figures out a way to work around it, but it’s a start.”

  “Better call Mack,” Sarah said. “And let’s do it together. It’ll be nice to actually deliver some good news to the boss for once.” She tilted her head to the side. “You know, as opposed to all of the other times that I’ve given the man a heart attack.”

  “Yeah,” Bryce said, raising both eyebrows. “You’ve definitely taken some years off his life.”

  Chapter 9

  Sarah sat in Mack’s chair with her feet up on the desk, her hands folded behind her head with a look of pure satisfaction that was only afforded when one was sitting in the boss’s chair. “I think I understand why Mack likes sitting here so much.” She wiggled her body, reshaping the ass groove that had formed over the century or so of Mack’s existence. “It’s comfortable.”

  Bryce bounced his knee up and down nervously, his fingers still shaking from the twenty cups of coffee he’d drained to finish the software program he hoped would disrupt Black Box’s signal. He was nervous. She could tell by the way he was ignoring her and also by the way he kept saying that he was, indeed, nervous. “I just wish I had more time.”

  “Much like popping your cherry,” Sarah said, “it might be messy and fast, but I’m sure the components will work just fine. And it’s not like the CIA has done anything to really help.” Sarah chuckled. “I mean, it’s like those guys are just sitting with their thumbs up their asses waiting for us to solve everything. I’m starting to realize why Grimes was so disgruntled in the first place.”

  “He was disgruntled because of you, Hill.” Mack’s voice boomed through the speakers like an omnipresent God, and at first Sarah wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from until Mack’s face appeared on the screen. “And get out of my chair. Now.”

  The last word ended in a growl, and Sarah punched Bryce in the shoulder as she switched seats. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  Bryce flashed a nervous smile as he rubbed his arm. “No problem.”

  The screen on the wall zoomed out and made room for both Mack and Mallory in some nondescript conference room in Langley. Sarah offered a friendly wave. “Just kidding about the thumbs.” She stuck both of hers up in a cheesy gesture that no one else reciprocated, and she slowly lowered her hands.

  “What do you have for us, Bryce?” Mack asked.

  Bryce cleared his throat and drew a long, raspy breath. “Okay. So.” His fingers glided across the keyboard on his laptop, and the projection on the wall split between Mack and Mallory and a display of his work. “Between the signals I was able to record from the incident in China a few days ago and from the schematics Sarah retrieved—”

  “You’re welcome, by the way,” Sarah said, poking her head into frame, noticing that both Mallory and Mack shared the same stonewalled expression, which she was beginning to think was a prerequisite for that type of position.

  “Right. Thanks,” Bryce said, giving Sarah a full helping of side eye. “I managed to create a program that should block the signal that Black Box is broadcasting.”

  “Should?” Mallory asked.

  “Well, I was successful in most of the tests I ran, but until I encounter the real thing, I won’t know for sure,” Bryce answered.

  “We know all of the locations for the nuclear arsenals in the countries that Grimes is targeting,” Mack said. “Why can’t you use one of those as a test?”

  Bryce held up a finger. “That’s where this solution gets a little tricky.” He removed a small thumb drive from his pocket and held it up. “The program needs to be inserted manually. The signals from Black Box are too sophisticated for me to try and combat them while they’re still traveling. But if we can get this plugged into the overall system software for the launch sites, then I’ll have better footing to fight this thing.”

  Mallory
rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t the most practical solution, Bryce.”

  Sarah slowly brought herself into the frame of the video, hand raised like she was in class. “I would just like to say that even with my insanely talented person, this would be difficult.”

  “This plan would have to involve the rest of the international intelligence community,” Mack said. “And right now they’re too busy squabbling with one another and pointing fingers.” He turned to Mallory. “You’d have to cash in on some of your more unsavory relationships.”

  Mallory chuckled, nearly to the point of hysteria, shaking his head in disbelief. “You want me to reach out to the heads of the intelligence agencies from around the world and tell them, ‘hey, we’ve got this software we want to insert into your entire nuclear program.’” He slammed his fist onto the table. “Are you insane?”

  “If Bryce says this is the only way to stop Grimes, then we don’t have a choice,” Mack said, retaining that cool demeanor in times of crisis. Sometimes Sarah thought she could set the man on fire and he would just calmly stop, drop, and roll then continue with his day like nothing ever happened.

  “Even if I do reach out to them,” Mallory said, staring at some random point on the table, “and even if they do listen, what you’re talking about is an unprecedented, coordinated global coalition amongst a group of people who have built their living on spying on one another! No one will be willing to air their dirty laundry out like that.”

  “The pooch has already been screwed on that front,” Sarah said. “Everyone in this line of work knows they’re being watched by someone else. Watch.” She picked up the can-like cylinder that corralled the pens on Mack’s desk and chucked it at the fogged glass wall. The can thumped against the glass, and a muffled groan echoed from the other side. “Johnny’s been standing there with his ear to the wall for probably the past fifteen minutes.”

  “Hill is right,” Mack said. “We don’t have much choice, and neither does the international community.”

  Sarah tilted her head to the side, smiling. “What was that?”

  Mack closed his eyes. “You heard what I said.”

  Sarah thrust her arms in the air in victorious jubilation. “Ladies and gentlemen, let it go on record that on this day at sixteen hundred hours, Eastern Standard Time, Mack Farr has acknowledged the fact that Sarah Hill was right!” She cupped her hands around her mouth, feigning the cheers of a stadium. “And the crowd goes wild.”

  After a good ten minutes of the overexerted display of self-confidence through a series of fist pumps, dancing, and what Sarah like to call “middle-finger rocket launches,” she stopped when she noticed the gaping stares of Bryce, Mack, and Mallory, all of whom shared expressions of shock, awe, and what she hoped was a tiny dose of admiration.

  “She is your best agent?” Mallory asked.

  Mack nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  Sarah once again thrust her arms into the air, taking a victory lap around the office. “Ladies and gentlemen, let it be known that on this day at sixteen ten hours, Eastern Standard Time, Mack Farr has finally admitted that Sarah Hill is the best agent at his disposal!”

  Mack palmed his forehead. “God help me.” And Sarah broke into another round of jubilant celebration.

  ***

  The moment the meeting ended and Mallory’s shock from his first interaction with Hill subsided, Mack began coordinating meetings for Mallory and the nuclear states that Grimes had gripped by the balls. Behind each of Mallory’s calls and every interaction, Mack listened in the background, providing any needed direction when the conversations encountered roadblocks. It was important for Mallory to take the lead on these negotiations and that the countries believed the CIA was providing the solution. After all, the GSF didn’t exist.

  “We’ll have one of our people drop off the devices in less than an hour. Thank you, Minister Kafhen.” Mallory set his cell phone down, his eyes hollower than those of a rotten jack-o-lantern. “Russia’s good.”

  Mack ticked off the countries in his head. “China, France, the UK, Israel, Russia.” He scrolled through the notifications on his mobile. “Looks like North Korea took the bait from China.” He nodded. “Only two left.”

  Mallory collapsed into his chair. “You and I both know trying to get either of those countries to work together is like trying to fit a square peg into a triangular hole.” The skin over his temples had transitioned from pale white to a steady pink from the constant massaging, looking as though he were trying to burrow his fingers into the thick of his skull. “Neither of them will go for this.”

  “You’ll need to speak to them at the same time,” Mack said.

  Mallory laughed, the burst involuntary judging from the light flush in his cheeks. “You really think that’s the best course of action?”

  “It’s the only course of action.” And eventually, Mallory understood that as well.

  After individual messages were sent to both the appropriate Pakistani and Indian parties, both agreed to a conference call. The two voices blared through the speaker phone with the malice and fervor that Mack had expected.

  “We will not allow our most strategic defense to be manipulated by a third party!” Director Muhali screamed into his receiver and was eclipsed by Minister Ruhemi, who talked over him every other word.

  “And India will never submit to dismantling our nuclear program regardless of what the government of Pakistan chooses to do.”

  And so it went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, the same ping-pong argument and fears on both sides of the aisle. Mack watched Mallory struggle to maintain control, but he might as well have been Switzerland during the Second World War.

  “Director, Minister,” Mallory said. “If you could just—” But no one listened. No compromises, no mutually beneficial solutions, no resolution.

  The longer Mack listened to the conversation, the more he realized what he would have to do, and it was a decision he had been hoping he wouldn’t have to make. Mack placed his hand on Mallory’s forearm, and after very abrupt goodbyes, the call ended.

  Mack flashed the image on his phone of the growing border troops bolstering each side. “We’re going to have to install those programs ourselves.”

  “Even if I coordinate with Homeland, the CIA doesn’t have the resources for a mission of that scale,” Mallory said. “And even if we did, that would be a major violation of every known international law that could spark the very nuclear war we’re trying to prevent.”

  “The CIA isn’t going to be a part of this,” Mack replied. “But my agents will.”

  ***

  Sarah zipped up her jacket, the Colts tucked away snug as a bug in a rug beneath the Kevlar. She crossed her arms and examined the mission layout spread across Bryce’s computers. It was the largest coordinated mission effort the GSF had ever attempted. And there wasn’t any room for error.

  “The drop points will be here, here, and here,” Bryce said, pointing along the India–Pakistan border. “There are a total of one hundred warheads spread out across nine bases on the Indian side. We’ll have agents hitting the area in a coordinated effort in both countries.” He highlighted the stations then singled out Sarah’s target. “This is yours. The control room for the base’s weapon systems is below ground. Once you land I’ll guide you inside. Now, I know how you’re prone to jump the gun, but I can’t stress enough how important it is to not do that this time.”

  “Don’t blow my load,” Sarah said, studying the map. “Got it.” She brushed past Bryce and headed toward the elevator.

  “I’m serious,” Bryce said, moving at a light jog to keep up with Sarah’s pace. “Don’t do anything ahead of time. It could dramatically throw off the groove of the entire operation, and if either government gets a whiff of what’s happening to their nuclear arsenals, it could trigger a launch on either side. We have to disarm them at exactly the same time.”

  Sarah pressed the button on the elevator to go up, and the
doors pinged open, both of them stepping inside. “Don’t do anything to trigger nuclear war. Got it.”

  Bryce stepped directly in front of her, his eyes wide, and spoke slowly. “So… You’re not going to start the mission before I say go.”

  Sarah clasped Bryce by his shoulders. “Bryce, I understand what you’re telling me.” She leaned in closer. “Relax, okay?” She clapped him on the arm. “You act like I go rogue on every single mission.”

  “Well… you do.”

  “Psh. Give me three examples.”

  “Last year on the mission in Belgium, you were supposed to stay low key.”

  Sarah shrugged. The elevators opened to the rooftop. “I did.”

  “You leveled a city block.”

  “It was scheduled to be demolished anyway,” Sarah said defensively.

  “Example two: three months ago you were assigned an extraction of a drug lord’s son in Colombia.”

  “Yeah, and I got him out.”

  “With twelve broken bones!”

  Sarah lowered her voice slightly. “I told him to duck.”

  “Example three—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it.” Sarah held up her hands, the wind from the chopper blowing her hair back. “I won’t go until you say so.”

  “This is big, Sarah. While Mack doesn’t think Grimes will actually blow a nuke, that doesn’t mean the Pakistani or Indian governments won’t.”

  Sarah backtracked to the chopper. “Hey, I got this. Just sit back, relax, and try not to drink any more coffee. You’ve got the crackhead shakes.” She climbed onto the chopper’s deck and watched Bryce grow smaller down below. A few seconds later his voice was once again in her ear.

  “I left a package for you on board. Check under your seat.”

  Sarah looked down and removed a small box. She ripped it open with the fervor of a kid on Christmas morning. But when she pulled out a metallic-looking poncho she frowned like she’d just received a lump of coal. The fabric shimmered in the sunlight. “What the hell is it? Some kind of solar panel?”