Rogue Faction Part 2: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book Three

by Xander Weaver

  The more he considered it, the more confident Voss felt that Cyrus had lost his childhood memories as the result of the work he’d begun back at Onyx Gander. Perhaps even more troubling, someone had been actively using Lamplighter out in the real world.

  The thought sickened him.

  “Lamplighter,” Voss said. The anger and indignation that had sparked in his voice surprised even himself. “Someone has hijacked my work. I need to know who. If they did it to you,” he said to Cyrus, “Then it’s been done to others. I must know who is responsible. They must be stopped. This is an experiment that was never intended to leave the lab!”

  “I don’t think you’re the first person to think that,” Cyrus said coldly. He reached into the bag at his side and removed another folder. He handed it to Voss without opening it.

  Voss flipped the folder open to find a computer printout of an online story about a gas explosion that destroyed a large portion of a palatial mansion just outside of Munich, Germany.

  “That happened last night,” Cyrus explained. “They haven’t announced the owner of the property yet, but I looked into it. The estate is owned by Philip Traue.”

  Voss felt himself deflate.

  Dargo stood and retrieved the printout from the desk. He shook his head. “Tying up loose ends,” he said simply.

  For his part, Voss didn’t even know where to go from here. He was painfully out of his element. It was a good thing Cyrus was not.

  “There’s more going on than I originally thought,” Cyrus admitted. “But Onyx Gander seems to be the common thread. Someone just offed their CEO. I’d be willing to bet that their retired CEO is next on the hit list. He would’ve been in the thick of it, back when you left the company, so he would need to be eliminated. If there are answers, Gerard Combs is our chance to find them.”

  “I will collect Mister Combs and bring him back here,” Dargo said with cold determination. “If he is going to suffer an accident, it should happen at my hands.”

  Cyrus smiled. “Good. I’m going after the mysterious outside investor who was putting pressure on Onyx Gander. I suspect that Onyx and our mysterious third party have maintained a working relationship all these years. I just need to visit an old friend and see if he can get me the information I need.”

  Voss didn’t fully understand what he was seeing, but for the first time Dargo and Cyrus seemed to be working together—and to Dargo’s satisfaction.

  “Do you need anything from me?” Dargo asked, further impressing the new found détente on Voss.

  “Actually,” Cyrus grinned. “There might be one thing…”

  Chapter 28

  The Cuban

  10:51 pm

  The armored Chevy Suburban pulled up to the curb outside The Cuban and the engine idled. The parking lot was less than half full. From the dim light spilling from the bar’s open entrance, Cyrus could tell it was a slow night. That was just as well. While he needed a public place for his meeting, it would’ve been difficult to talk if the place was too rowdy.

  This was the first time Cyrus had visited the bar when people were not congregating around the entrance, smoking and socializing. There were still nearly a dozen motorcycles parked at the curb nearest the entrance, and he could hear the dull murmur of muted music and voices emanating from inside.

  “Everything alright, sir?” the driver of the SUV asked.

  Sitting beside the driver, Cyrus nodded silently in response. He was surprised just how apprehensive he was about this meeting. Boone held the key to understanding what was happening, and why. And while he was reasonably certain he had things figured out, Cyrus needed to be absolutely certain before responding to the threat and eliminating it. Cyrus was certain that his friend would confirm his fears.

  Cyrus took a long look at the man beside him. He was one of the few survivors on Dargo’s security team. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know the driver’s name. But for the first time, he had confidence in Dargo’s people. He should. The disloyal members of the team had been whittled away in a bloody purge. While Dargo had started out with an impressive array of highly qualified men, he’d lost many along the way. Then suffering betrayal from a subset of his squad, Dargo had taken a much closer look at those who remained. While Cyrus wasn’t sure what sort of additional vetting process Dargo had used on the remainder of the staff, he had no doubt that it was both thorough and invasive—perhaps even painful. Although he didn’t know the driver personally, or Dargo for that matter, Cyrus had renewed confidence in them both. Unusual, given the situation he was about to walk into. Even more unusual with what he knew—and what he suspected—walking into the meeting.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Cyrus said at last. He swung open the passenger side door. “I won’t be long.”

  He wasted no time crossing the short stretch of pavement before passing through the open door to the bar.

  Chapter 29

  The Cuban

  10:49 pm

  Standing in the shadows, far from the nearest streetlight, Dargo hadn’t moved much in the last twenty minutes. The single exception to his motionless state had been to pull the collar of his dark, insulated coat up around his neck.

  In the time he’d been standing there, he had seen a total of half-a-dozen men enter the bar, plus three women. Only one couple had left the bar while he watched. Traffic on the surrounding streets was virtually nonexistent. The few vehicles which passed by did so with clear intention and offered nothing to draw his attention.

  At last he saw the armored four-wheel drive round the corner at the far end of the street. His eyes followed it as it rolled smoothly down the lane and cornered into the parking lot. It stopped before the curb, not far from the entrance to the bar.

  It was good, Dargo reasoned. At least this much was going according to plan. His eyes wandered the parking area surrounding the SUV as he searched for anything out of place. Finding nothing, his gaze followed an ever-advancing search pattern that started at the SUV. From there, it widened, spreading out to eventually encompass the entire surrounding parking area and then the surrounding streets as well. While he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, he was certain that he would know it when he found it.

  Chapter 30

  The Cuban

  11:06 pm

  Cyrus sat at the bar watching the area around him in the massive mirror hanging behind the counter. In fact, he was sitting in the same seat he’d occupied during his last meeting with Boone. He sipped his beer sparingly. He had no real interest in the drink, it was enough to have it in his hands. His guard was fully raised, and he was more than a little on edge. The heightened sense of awareness was only natural, given what he’d done to Boone at their last encounter. He had no idea how the man would respond to the cocktail he’d slipped into his drink near the end of the night.

  He was about to find out.

  Following his shocking sit-down discussion with Voss and Dargo, Cyrus had left to clear his head. He’d walked into Voss’s office with a straightforward idea of where things were going and a solid plan for the discussion that would take place there. True, he hadn’t expected Dargo’s presence, but he’d quickly realized it would be useful to have Dargo on hand so he could gauge his reactions to what he had to say.

  As he had suspected, neither man had been fully aware of the real motivation behind Eleanor Voss’s murder. But once provided with supporting evidence, both had been willing to accept the reality. Readily accepting of the situation, actually. It was obvious that his information resolved many unanswered questions.

  Cyrus had been struck by just how difficult the last two decades had been for both men, neither knowing, or wanting to address who had killed Eleanor, or why. Cyrus had a new found respect for Voss’s xenophobic desire to hole up in a castle of concrete and glass, blocking out the outside world while protecting his family. Voss had no idea who was truly out to get them, or why.

  For as well as the meeting had gone, it had been Voss who dropped a
proverbial bomb on Cyrus at the end of their discussion. Cyrus didn’t take Voss’s explanation of the so-called “genetic markers” at face value, but he had been blindsided by the discovery. Cyrus was certain that he hadn’t thought of his childhood since arriving on the island. Natasha was the only link between his current life and his past. She was also the only one who knew of his sketchy personal history or his displaced upbringing. All of which, she’d sworn she hadn’t shared with anyone. And he believed her.

  So at least for the time being, Cyrus didn’t know what to make of the story Voss had told. If Voss’s explanation of the genetic markers was true, maybe there was something more to his missing past than he’d ever suspected. He’d been found amidst the wreckage of a derailed train before he was even a teenager. He had no memory of the train, the accident, or even his life prior to waking up in the hospital following the accident. Doctors believed the physical and emotional trauma caused by the accident had resulted in his memory loss. And while the explanation had never fully satisfied Cyrus, lacking any other, he’d been forced to accept it.

  But now? He wasn’t willing to jump onboard with Voss’s explanation, but he would look into it. Cyrus realized his suspicion for people’s motives came too him naturally, but as he caught Boone’s reflection in the mirror, he remembered he had more than enough reason to question everyone and everything around him.

  Sliding onto the stool beside Cyrus, Boone didn’t turn to look at him. He kept his gaze fixed directly ahead, evidently choosing to study him in the mirror’s reflection first. Cyrus recognized the glaring, unblinking set of his eyes and knew Boone already had his ire up. Between that and the unnatural pallor of his skin, Cyrus was now certain the cocktail he’d slipped him at their last meeting had done the trick.

  Boone was uncharacteristically quiet for a long time. Even when Lucy, the bartender, deposited a bottle of beer in front of him, he didn’t offer a single word. Cyrus did see Boone’s eyes fall on the beer bottle. He studied the bottle cap, still in place atop the bottle. Cyrus knew he would take it for what it was, a sign that the drink had not been tampered with. Cyrus made the request of Lucy when he first arrived, asking that the drinks she brought be delivered with their caps still in place. It was customary for the bartender to remove the cap for the customer so it went against her custom. Still, she’d willingly complied.

  Cyrus knew that the gesture would first irritate Boone. But hopefully, given a little time, it might help put him at ease. It was a small gesture on Cyrus’s part—one that he had mixed feelings about, but it was also one that he thought might eventually help move things along.

  After leaving his sit-down with Voss and Dargo, Cyrus had walked outside for some fresh air. As soon as he stepped from the building’s front door, the phone in his pocket had chimed with a text message from Boone. The message didn’t say much, only that they needed to meet. By the timestamp, Cyrus saw that it was sent hours earlier. He’d only received it once he passed beyond the exterior wall of the building and reacquired a cell signal.

  Still, Cyrus had been reluctant to respond to Boone too quickly. He knew well what his training officer wanted. In light of his conversation with Voss, Cyrus hadn’t been in a hurry to speak with Boone. The new information was tough to assimilate. To that end, he opted not to respond to the text message.

  Later that afternoon, Cyrus was with Natasha when one of the security guards delivered a written message. The guard explained that someone had called the main switchboard and asked simply that the message be delivered to Cyrus. The message, of course, was from Boone. He would’ve understood there was a chance that Cyrus wouldn’t get his text message while inside the building, so he’d resorted to plan B. The message passed to him was even more succinct. It was just a phone number. Cyrus realized that Boone had foregone any pretenses of Cyrus’s cover by sending the message. Had he still been operating inside the facility undercover, this would’ve been a major problem since he wasn’t supposed to know anyone on the island, and no one was supposed to know he had taken refuge at the facility.

  It was obvious to both of them that the rules of the game were quickly shifting.

  Sitting at the bar with Boone, Cyrus was reluctant to be the first to speak. It had been nearly five minutes since Boone arrived. So far he hadn’t spoken a word, and he had yet to look at him without use of the mirror.

  “How are you feeling, Boone? You don’t look so good.” Cyrus turned on his stool and had a great view of his friend in profile. He could see the muscles under his jaw cording as he ground his teeth, likely chewing on a retort.

  While he knew this would be one of the most serious conversations of his entire life, Cyrus couldn’t help but needle the man. Part of him was rebelling against the gravity of his circumstance, daring to treat the issue with reckless abandon.

  “I think you’d better tell me what you’ve done,” Boone offered through clenched teeth, his eyes finally meeting with Cyrus’s directly for the first time.

  Cyrus’s eyebrows rose in response as he feigned indignation. “What I did? Why don’t we rewind about two decades? Then you can tell me what you did,” Cyrus accused.

  A rapid series of emotions fluttered across Boone’s eyes. So quickly, in fact, that Cyrus couldn’t effectively discern one from the next. But he looked like he was going to boil over as a result of whatever was on his mind. And then, all at once, the flutter passed and Boone’s eyes went cold. He took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he seemed to deflate physically. After the rapid onset of whatever had flooded his mind, in the end, he only shook his head in sad resignation.

  “Don’t give me that,” Boone said in a surprisingly quiet voice. “You know how this works. You’ve been there yourself. You’ve just gotten yourself involved in something that goes back to when you were in diapers.”

  “I’ve been there,” Cyrus conceded. “But I still know the difference between right and wrong. This goes back twenty years. Jesus, Boone, when did you lose your moral compass? There are shades of gray, but killing an innocent woman just to motivate her husband? You thought that would get him back to work? There’s no shade for that!”

  Boone shook his head. Glancing at his beer, he finally popped the top and took a long pull from the bottle. “It’s more black and white than you make it seem, Cyrus.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Cyrus sputtered. His indignation was threatening to get the best of him. “You blew the woman up! A mother of two—she had two babies at home, you sonofabitch! Hell, you didn’t just kill her, you made a spectacle of it. That wasn’t just some run of the mill IED, either; that was some twisted, horrific shit. Who comes up with something like that?”

  Boone just shook his head.

  “No,” Cyrus insisted. “I’m serious. I want to know who came up with the idea.”

  Leveling a cold glare at him, Boone made it clear that he wouldn’t be answering the question.

  “That was the real point of Asheville, wasn’t it?” Cyrus went on, undeterred. “I was sent in and told that Sutter was my primary objective—that bringing the bomber, Eartzie, was a secondary, but necessary requirement. But that wasn’t the case. Eartzie was the primary objective all along. That’s why Monica was so pissed when I fragged him. Even though I bagged Sutter…she wanted Eartzie.”

  Cyrus was referring to the undercover operation he’d worked only weeks earlier. After six months undercover with a well-connected arms dealer going by the name of Sutter, Cyrus had singlehandedly captured not only the man in charge but also his entire mercenary team. Sutter had been working with a prolific bomb maker known only as Eartzie, and preparing to launch a major new operation. Cyrus had used Eartzie’s death as a diversion when he made his move against Sutter. The mission had been a success, but Eartzie’s death never sat well with the Red Queen.

  Boone offered nothing. He only stared at his beer bottle.

  “Eartzie worked for the Coalition back in the day,” Cyrus went on. “As a contractor. Way back in the beginning. Mon
ica was running the show back then, too, wasn’t she?

  “You guys were using Eartzie for his special talents way back then. It’s why you wanted me to bring him back alive. What’s going on? Did you have another job for him? Was the thermobaric formula ever a priority? Or was the entire operation just cover for retrieving the nut-job bomb maker?”

  Cyrus glared at Boone, but he didn’t seem inclined to respond. Boone’s disposition failed to give Cyrus any indication to help judge the accuracy of his claims. Boone was mindlessly massaging a small spot on his shoulder, however. Cyrus recognized the location. It was where he’d administered the injection after delivering Boone to the hotel room the night before.

  Boone’s lack of a verbal response was undermined by his irritation, both at knowing that Cyrus was on to him and that he’d utilized Voss’s memory tag against him. Cyrus knew it, and Boone knew that he knew it.

  “What is it you want from me?” Boone asked finally.

  “The truth. I don’t like being used as a pawn. I’m done being manipulated.”

  “You’re letting your personal feelings interfere with—”

  “Don’t even go there,” Cyrus warned. His voice was low and his tone calm, but the admonishment carried just as much threat. He met Boone’s eyes and made a point of directing his glance toward the spot that Boone was still fingering on his shoulder.