His eyes tightening, Boone quickly pulled his hand away from the injection site. He looked away. When he opted to take a pull from the beer bottle, Cyrus knew that his so-called friend was trying to buy time to think.
“I can’t believe you used that goddamn memory tag on me,” Boone groused. He didn’t bother to look Cyrus in the eye when he made the comment. “Where’s the trust?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. It was bad enough when I thought the Red Queen was behind all this. All the lies and manipulation absolutely reek of her. But once I realized you were in on it with her, and you weren’t being maneuvered like me, that’s when I knew I was really in trouble.” Cyrus had no problem looking at his one-time mentor.
The statement finally drew a questioning glance from Boone.
“Really?” Cyrus snarled, not even letting Boone respond. “You think I’m going to let you put this all on her? You’re both in this up to your ears. The morning I spoke with Monica, she told me your body had turned up along with Hobbs in a burned out four-by-four. She said it had just been pulled out of the river. But when I saw video footage of the vehicle recovery on the news, the truck was being fished out of the drink a good four miles downriver from the location she’d given me.
“The only reason for the Red Queen to give me the wrong location was if you’d given it to her when you put the truck in the damn river. She didn’t figure on the wreckage being pulled downstream before it was discovered. And I messed up her timing by talking to her when I did. She knew where you dumped the truck, and Hobbs’s body, because you told her all about it. She just didn’t figure on the current moving it before someone could discover the wreckage for real.”
Cyrus took a drink from his beer bottle without ever taking his eyes off Boone. He knew from experience that maintained eye contact could be painfully disconcerting. Since he wanted to put Boone as far back on his heels as possible, he was pulling out all the stops.
“It was a slip up on Monica’s part,” Cyrus continued. “But not a show stopper because it wasn’t conclusive proof of anything—only that you were in communication with the boss at a time when you’d supposedly gone dark. The real mistake was yours. You told me a hit squad took out your team just before you could pick up Ragsdale in Paris. But that wasn’t accurate since you were the one who opened fire on your own team.
“You shot them down—men who trusted you with their lives. You betrayed them and killed them in the street. How could you? Why would you?”
Boone had somehow found the will to meet Cyrus’s gaze somewhere amid the accusatory attack. But the look he offered was surprisingly neutral. He seemed neither troubled by the accusations, nor concerned with the consequences of his actions. Not even hurt that his friend might suspect him of something horrible.
“That’s an interesting assessment,” Boone said in a dispassionate, impersonal tone. “Do you care to share the facts that support your conclusion?”
Boone was treating the conversation as if it were one of their Brainstorm Sessions back at Command. It was a similar situation in that Cyrus would be given a series of disparate facts and expected to find a scenario explaining the circumstances. Since a Brainstorm Session had led to his present assignment, Boone seemed to find humor in the approach.
With a roll of his eyes, Cyrus decided to play along. “First of all, there’s the aforementioned SUV that was fished out of the river at a location other than the one given. Add to that the injuries to the two bodies inside the vehicle. One was supposed to be you. I don’t know where or how you found a double, but it wouldn’t be too difficult. You’re a white male of average height and weight. You just needed to find a man the right age, put a bullet through his head, and drop him behind the wheel of the truck before dumping it. Throw in your prized Zippo for good measure and you have a story you can sell. The incendiary you used would go a long way toward hiding the real identity of your double. But it was Hobbs who gave you away.”
The look on Boone’s face made it clear he didn’t understand.
“Basic forensics,” Cyrus elaborated. “The gunshot wound to Hobbs’s head was postmortem. Whoever shot him was just doing it to make it look like he’d been killed at the same time, and in the same way as the driver. But an examination of Hobbs’s body showed he had suffered multiple gunshot wounds in the days prior to his death. Those wounds were never properly treated. He was also malnourished at the time of his death.
“In short, he was on the run. Had he been in hiding with you following the ambush that killed the rest of your team, you would’ve provided him more adequate medical attention. But he received no medical attention at all. Why, was the question that really bothered me. If you were with him, he would’ve received at least basic care…unless you weren’t with him, as you claimed. But then the question became, why would you lie?
“You were behind the ambush of your own team. But Hobbs got away and that was a big problem for you. He knew you were a double agent. You didn’t go dark because you were on the run—you dropped off the grid because you were hunting Hobbs. You had to get to him before he could blow the whistle on you,” Cyrus concluded.
A tight smile appeared on Boone’s face. It was obviously forced because it failed to reach his eyes. “There are at least a dozen other scenarios that can explain that combination of circumstances. It’s a creative conclusion, I’ll give you that. But it’s hardly the only possible explanation.”
“But it’s not the conclusion you should be disputing,” Cyrus said with a sad shake of his head. “It’s the supporting facts.”
The smile slipped from Boone’s face. He had realized his mistake. He was acting like this was an exercise conducted around a boardroom table. One where the conclusion was the subject of debate, and the supporting evidence was always a matter of record. But in this real world situation, the circumstances were different. The conclusion wasn’t nearly as damning as each piece of supporting evidence. Boone hadn’t tried to dispute the evidence—a slip, Cyrus saw, because Boone already knew the supporting evidence to be factual, even though he was guessing at parts.
When Boone looked quickly away, Cyrus realized that all pretenses could finally be shed. Boone no longer had the opportunity to feign ignorance or claim to be a pawn in what was happening.
“Why don’t you just spill it?” Cyrus persisted.
Boone touched the dry patch of skin on his shoulder once more. “Voss’s procedure really works?” he asked in a quiet voice without looking at Cyrus.
“He wasn’t at the early prototype stages like we believed,” Cyrus said simply. “That’s why he needed the imaging hardware from Ragsdale. Voss was actively testing the technology, even before I arrived onsite. Ragsdale’s tech only made the process more efficient. It was already fully functional. Ragsdale provided a single set of glasses that expedited the uploading and downloading of the neural data.”
“And you tagged me.” Boone glared. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I’m more concerned with what you’ve done. It was the only way to know for sure. I had to find out where you stood. But a lot has happened since last night. I’ve gotten access to the Red Queen’s personal files now. I know what you did to the Voss family, and I know why.”
“You had access,” Boone corrected. “That’s been rectified. And your new friend, Charlie, is currently in custody. You can imagine the deep, dark hole she’ll disappear into. You really should’ve left this alone and done the job you were given.”
Cyrus felt his stomach drop at the mention of Charlie. It meant Boone wasn’t bluffing. He’d done everything he could to isolate her, given the volatility of what was going on. He had no idea how they’d tracked his access, let alone realized Charlie’s involvement.
Boone must’ve read Cyrus’s surprise because a knowing smile quickly spread across his face.
“Yeah,” Boone grinned. “You weren’t expecting Charlie to be collateral damage in your little database incursion, wer
e you?”
Cyrus fought himself. He wanted to know more. How had his access been tracked? How was the trail followed back to Charlie? But by asking these questions, Cyrus would be showing concern that would detract from any leverage he currently held.
Boone smirked and shrugged. “You don’t miss a trick, do you?” he muttered.
Dammit.
Cyrus didn’t need to ask the questions—Boone knew him too well. He might as well be reading his mind. Boone was the one who taught him how to maintain control in situations exactly like this.
“Relax,” Boone said with genuine mirth. “You didn’t make a mistake; we cheated. I knew you would make a move to regain access. Since the Red—Monica,” he laughed. “Since Monica shut down all intercontinental traffic into the company network, we knew you’d need to use a cutout.
“Monica wanted to put Echelon on alert and monitor every single call coming into the United States. But you and I know that system only gets triggered by specific keywords. Words you would avoid, so there was no point.
“Instead, I just had her tap the phone lines of every woman employed by the company. If you were going to break radio silence and look for help inside our walls, odds were that you would call up some pretty young thing you met around the office and ask her for help.
“I honestly never considered that it might be Charlie. You really do work fast.”
For the first time since their discussion began, Cyrus found his jaw tightening as he fought his own irritation. Was he really that predicable? Did Boone truly know him that well? Were there aspects to his personality that even he wasn’t aware of? He was so accustomed to examining others, looking for exploitable flaws…maybe he needed to take a closer look at himself.
“I hope you got a good look at whatever you needed to see,” Boone mocked, “because you’re never getting back into that system. Monica was pissed. I guarantee she’s got things locked down tighter than ever before.”
It was Cyrus’s turn to grin. He couldn’t even help himself.
“What?” Boone asked defensively.
“Everything I need is right here,” he said. He tapped a finger on the side of his head for effect. “That’s the beauty of an eidetic memory. What’s been seen can’t be unseen.”
Boone shook his head and laughed. “Kid, if you only knew. If it wasn’t for me, that memory of yours would’ve gotten you killed years ago.”
Chapter 31
The Cuban
11:35 pm
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cyrus asked.
Boone marveled at the twisted way the world worked. He’d always intended to have this conversation with Cyrus—felt he owed it to him, in fact. But never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed he would be explaining his own origins to the kid on the day that he had him killed.
There was a twisted, circular logic to it, he mused. The case that had originally linked him to Cyrus back at Brown University, was actually related to the death of Eleanor Voss years earlier, as well as the present operation that would soon put Rutger Voss firmly in the employ of the Coalition.
“Back when you were at Brown and got yourself all jammed up with the cartel over the story you were working on for the school paper…did you ever ask yourself why I was watching you at the time?”
Scrutinizing Cyrus as he sat back on his stool, Boone witnessed a shock that was impossible to hide. He could almost see the question spinning around in the young man’s mind—‘Why I was watching you?’ It had always been implied that Boone inserted himself into the case after hearing of the trouble Cyrus was involved in. The truth was far different than Cyrus had been led to believe.
“I wasn’t called in to deal with the case,” Boone explained. “I was already there, watching you when the trouble started. I just used my position with the Coalition to get you out.”
“Wait, back up,” Cyrus demanded. “Why would you be there watching me?”
Taking a deep breath, Boone gave his reply some deliberate thought. He drained the remainder of his beer while he decided where to start. The problem wasn’t coming clean after so many years. It was the understanding that everything he was about to explain would be wasted; that his promising young protégé wouldn’t live to see the sunrise.
It was such a waste.
All the same, he knew that even if things had gone differently, he would still be sharing this story with Cyrus. The truth was that Cyrus had outmaneuvered him. Though Boone hated to admit it, he’d been blindsided when the kid dosed him with the memory tagging agent the night before. Even if he hadn’t been willing to explain all of this to him now, it had become only a matter of time before Cyrus learned everything for himself. Voss’s Shadowlight technology was about to make secrets obsolete. It was another reason the Coalition had to be the sole purveyor of the technology.
“You must’ve missed that portion of Monica’s files,” Boone grinned. “Everything began with Project Lamplighter almost…two decades ago.”
“Right,” Cyrus confirmed. “Lamplighter was a project conducted by Onyx Gander. They had an off-the-books—supposedly silent partner—footing the bill in exchange for the sole access to the resulting technology.”
Boone was impressed. Cyrus already knew more than they’d anticipated. “Very good. But do you know what the project entailed? What the ultimate goal was?”
Cyrus raised a wobbling hand to indicate he wasn’t certain. “Some kind of genetic mapping and manipulation, as I understand it. I haven’t had a chance to read up on the terms or the technology yet. Highly technical stuff, from what I’ve seen so far.”
Boone rocked back on his stool. He instantly realized he’d done a poor job of hiding his surprise. With a wave, he signaled the bartender for another beer and braced a steadying elbow against the counter. Dipping his head toward Cyrus, he spoke quietly and more conspiratorially. He knew Cyrus well. With everything Cyrus was admitting to, Boone was suspicious about the details the kid had chosen to hold back. He was certain Cyrus kept key information in reserve. He’d seen him use the tactic many times in the past, and with great effectiveness. Boone recalled it specifically because it was an impressive tactic—one he hadn’t been taught.
“Your host, Doctor Voss,” Boone explained, “was the project lead for Lamplighter. The objective, as you said, was to find the genetic traits that make one person unique in some extraordinary way, and then map those markers. From there, the study forked into diverging sub-projects. One focused on enhancing the subject’s innate natural traits. The other branch’s goal was to find a way to activate a previously dormant trait forming an ability in a neutral subject.”
“Essentially transplanting naturally occurring traits. Identifying and mapping them in one person, then trying to activate those abilities in another,” Cyrus confirmed.
“Exactly. But that’s branch two. Don’t forget about branch number one. Their goal was to augment, or supercharge a naturally occurring trait—essentially taking it to the next level.”
Cyrus nodded, urging Boone to continue.
Boone couldn’t help but wonder if he was telling Cyrus things he already knew.
“You were part of that project,” Boone said. “Which branch—I was never sure—but you were definitely a part of it.”
“Bullshit,” Cyrus countered flatly. “You expect me to buy that? You can do better than that.”
Lucy arrived with a pair of beer bottles. She placed one in front of each of them. Boone watched her closely. She looked like she was going to say something, perhaps make some kind of small talk. When she saw the seriousness of their expressions, she seemed to think better of it. She abandoned a damp rang on the counter and made a quick exit.
Boone fought the urge to smash the beer bottle in his grip. It frosted him that the kid had gotten the drop on him the night before. Both that Cyrus was onto him in the first place, and that he’d come prepared to dose him with the memory tag were infuriating. It meant Cyrus had carefully pla
nned the events of the previous night. It also meant everything they’d talked about had been a manipulation. His own agent was using everything Boone had taught him, against him.
And he’d done a damn good job of it.
“Lamplighter continued after Voss left,” Boone explained. “At first we didn’t think it would be possible. But in time, we found someone to continue his work.”
Boone slid off his stool and glanced over his shoulder. “I gotta hit the head. I trust you’ll stick around for a bit?”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” Cyrus countered. “I’ve waited this long for answers, what’s a couple more minutes?”
With a knowing grin, Boone headed across the room.
————
Cyrus watched Boone in the mirror’s reflection until he disappeared around the corner at the end of the distant hallway. As soon as his former friend was out of sight, Cyrus slipped the phone from his pocket and tapped a number from memory. He glanced at the clock on the wall. With the time difference, for once the offset was working to his favor.
“Hello?” a young woman’s voice answered.
“Jessica, its Cyrus. I only have a minute. Is your dad nearby?”
“Cyrus? Hey. Yeah, he’s in the garage. What’s wrong?”
“It’s a long story. Could you put him on the phone real quick? And, do me a favor? Don’t tell him it’s me when you hand him the phone?”
“Ah, sure. Okay. One sec.” There was a definite hesitation before her uncertain reply. It was to be expected. He was calling her out of the blue and acting dodgy.
The line was silent for what seemed like an eternity before a new voice picked up; this one was male.
“Hello?” the man asked, mirroring Jessica’s uncertainty at the unorthodox phone call.
“Reid, its Cyrus. Please listen to what I have to say before you contact Command. It’s better for everyone if you don’t try to trace my call. Besides, it’s entirely unnecessary since Boone is standing in the next room.”
Rogue Faction Part 2: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book Three Page 25
