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

by Xander Weaver

  “Boone?” The surprise in Reid’s voice was unmistakable. It confirmed what Cyrus already suspected. Boone hadn’t faked his death to hide his scent in the field, Command obviously thought he’d died in the burned out SUV, too. Only the Red Queen knew differently.

  “What’s this about, Cyrus?”

  “That’s the question of the day,” Cyrus muttered, mostly to himself. “For now it’s just about Charlie Greene. Boone says you have her in custody?”

  Letting out a low whistle, Reid chuckled. “Yeah. I gotta say, you worked fast with that one. You landed her in a load of trouble—and in record time! I’ve heard Monica go on some rants over the years, but what she said about you and Charlie? The Red Queen was as close to unhinged as I’ve ever seen her.

  “I don’t know how you talked Charlie into helping you, but Monica’s going to bury her. Apparently she’s already spoken with counsel. Charlie’s being charged as an enemy combatant!”

  “Slow down,” Cyrus warned. “Monica hasn’t talked to counsel, I guarantee it. She wants Charlie in a deep, dark hole somewhere, and that’s nothing compared to what she’s been trying to do to me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Look, Reid—I don’t have much time. I’ve got to make this quick. Monica won’t be following procedure when it comes to holding Charlie because she can’t afford a paper trail. Look into it. You’ll see what I mean.

  “Monica’s been running her own personal black ops through the Coalition for years—decades, according to what I’ve found. Charlie’s not the enemy. I need you to keep her safe until I can finish what I’ve started. She did me a favor, and I can’t have her caught up in this—not now.”

  “You realize that I know what you’re doing?” Reid offered with clear amusement. “It’s exactly what you were trained to do. You’re trying to confuse and divide us long enough to complete your mission, whatever the hell that is.”

  “This isn’t a game, Reid!” Cyrus snapped, for the first time losing his cool. “You don’t have to take my word for it. I have all the proof you’ll need. The anal-retentive, sociopathic bitch kept everything well-documented. And thanks to Charlie, I’ve got the files. I’ll tell you where to pick them up. You can make up your mind for yourself.”

  The line went silent for so long that Cyrus thought the call might’ve dropped. He was just about to say something when he heard Reid take a breath.

  Throughout the entire conversation, Cyrus had been watching the hallway behind him in the mirror’s reflection. Boone was due back at any moment. He needed to get Reid on board before that happened.

  “Assuming what you say is true,” Reid began, “and Monica is dirty, what makes you think I’m any better? Wouldn’t she make it the first order of business to fill key posts with people loyal to her?”

  A chill ran down Cyrus’s back at the thought. While it explained everything he suspected about Boone, as well as everything Boone was confirming for him, he still felt sick at the personal betrayal.

  “I know she did that for a fact,” Cyrus explained. “I’m dealing with one of her minions right now. But I don’t think you’re one of them. First of all, she’s been at this for a long time. Far longer than you’ve been on board. Secondly, you’re far too proud of your time with the A.T.F. I don’t believe you would sully your accomplishments there by participating in the sort of operations she’s been running.”

  “Careful, kid, that sounded dangerously close to something like respect. You wouldn’t want to ruin our relationship.”

  “Really? I thought we put all the animosity behind us. Are we back to that again?”

  It rankled Cyrus; Reid was being petty. He was almost certain they’d finally gotten to the bottom of whatever grudge he had against him. If he was wrong about that, it meant he could’ve been wrong about his entire take on Reid.

  When he heard the man’s resigned sigh, Cyrus knew he might’ve been right in the first place. He was rushing the conversation, pushing hard to turn Reid faster than he ought to, especially given what was at stake. Cyrus’s eyes once more nervously flicked in the mirror’s reflection. Time was running out.

  “You’re right,” Reid admitted. “I’m over that. I guess some habits are just hard to break. Plus, you have to keep in mind what I’ve been hearing about you from the powers that be. I’ve got to be honest, Cyrus…your proof had better be damn convincing or I’m going to tell Monica about all of this. And that means things are only going to be worse for you—and Charlie.”

  “The evidence speaks for itself. Just make sure you download it from an anonymous connection, someplace the company can’t track. I guarantee Monica’s watching everyone right now. That’s why I called you through Jessica’s phone.

  “Be smart with this info. Keep quiet until you hear from me, but take steps to protect your family. And get Charlie someplace safe. I don’t know what Monica’s going to do before this is over.”

  Cyrus waited for Reid to grab a pen and paper, then gave him an FTP server address and login where he could download the files he’d posted. Cyrus recited the information from memory, having uploaded the files from a coffee shop at the other end of the city earlier that afternoon.

  “Look, Reid—I gotta go. Just take a look at the files and make a decision for yourself. This information is toxic. She’ll do anything to keep it from going wide.

  “Watch out for you and yours, and spring Charlie. She was only doing the right thing. She doesn’t deserve what the Red Queen is going to throw at her.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Cyrus tapped the disconnect button. He’d just finished slipping the device into his pocket when Boone rounded the corner at the end of the hall. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Boone was in the process of pocketing his own phone.

  It explains the lengthy trip to the bathroom. But who was he talking to?

  ————

  Grabbing the bottle opener, Boone popped the top on his beer before passing the opener to Cyrus. In some ways it was still like old times, he noticed.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Boone continued as if he’d never made the detour to the restroom. “That project was nothing but trouble from the very start. We hit a major setback when we lost Voss, but we recovered. We even got things back online and started making progress. There were half-a-dozen successful test subjects, and a new set of candidates were about to begin the next phase of the experiment. That’s when things went pear-shaped again.

  “Someone hit the lab we were using,” Boone eyed Cyrus to make his point. “To this day we don’t know who was behind it. But they triggered the containment failsafe and the lab was destroyed, along with all the data and the test subjects. It was a real shitstorm.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Cyrus asked. “Get to the point.”

  “The point,” Boone grinned, “is that after sorting through the rubble left once our own containment protocol torched the lab, I wasn’t so sure everyone had died in the purge. We had the right number of bodies—more than enough, in fact. Enough to account for the intruding force and everyone on staff. But it never sat right with me.

  “I started looking closer. It wasn’t easy; the only bodies I could identify were staffers. We had their DNA on file, offsite. But the six test subjects were a different story. Everything we had on them was housed at the facility. We lost every piece of identifying information when the lab was sanitized.”

  Cyrus shrugged and looked at his beer. He sipped it casually. He was doing his best to appear disinterested, but Boone knew better.

  “What’s this have to do with me?” Cyrus asked.

  “When I realized the test subjects might not have died at the lab, I started looking for them. All I had was very generic information such as age, sex, and race. But, in addition to that, they were each unique in some way. While I didn’t know in what ways, it was enough for me to start doing broad searches. Eventually you appeared on my radar.”

  Cyrus cast Boone a pier
cing gaze. “You’re saying you were watching me even before all the trouble with my story for the school paper?”

  Boone nodded.

  Cyrus shook his head. “Why? What’s so special about me?”

  A smile crossed Boone’s face, in spite of himself. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  Offering only a blank stare, Cyrus said nothing.

  “You don’t have a clue how easily all of this comes to you—how hard others have to work just to do the things that come naturally to you?”

  Cyrus shook his head. “You’re overthinking it, Boone. Everyone’s good at something. The trick in life is finding what you excel at, then running with it. It doesn’t mean I’m some kind of freak of genetics.”

  Boone laughed. Oddly, he could offer no counter argument. What could he say if the kid didn’t believe the truth? In the end, it really didn’t matter. In a few minutes, it would all be over for him.

  “Look,” Boone said. “I just wanted to explain what led me to watching you. I was there to step in and get you out of that jam because I was already surveilling you. The point is, I never told Monica that I believed you were one of the six missing test subjects. She’s always believed they were dead; I never told her about my suspicions. I just wanted you to know.”

  Eyeing him doubtfully, Cyrus took his time asking the question that Boone knew was coming.

  “Okay,” Cyrus began. “Assuming that you believed I was one of your missing six, then why wouldn’t you tell your boss about it? It’s not like you to hold back important details.”

  Boone shrugged and bought himself a moment’s reprieve as he took another drink. He didn’t know the answer to the question until the moment he heard it asked. The realization hit him like a jolt of electricity. It was so obvious, yet somehow he’d never admitted it to himself.

  “I guess there was just something about you,” Boone said quietly. “I watched you at school, at work…your time with Natasha. You were just a kid, but you had it all figured out. Something about you, something…likable. I had a good idea what was waiting for you if I brought you back. Lamplighter would begin again. I guess it just didn’t seem right.

  “Then you went and got yourself jammed up with the students and the faculty conspiring to cook that designer drug. Rather than look the other way—or even call the authorities—you rolled up your sleeves and managed to discover who was behind it, and how the operation worked. That’s when I knew you had a talent we could use.

  “Suddenly it was a better idea to bring you into the Coalition as an operative, rather than a lab rat. That way I could stay close to you and see the extent of your talents.”

  Cyrus put the beer down and pushed it away. He didn’t look at Boone when he spoke. Instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead and his voice cold and level. “I don’t know why you took an interest in me,” he said flatly. “I’ve obviously been manipulated from the very beginning. You make it sound like I should thank you for it… You know me better than that.”

  Boone felt Cyrus’s cold gaze fall on him, and saw anger in the young man’s eyes.

  “I’ve been used and manipulated,” Cyrus clarified. “But I’m done—with you, and the Coalition. I thought the work I’ve done was something to be proud of. When I got a look at Monica’s hidden records, I realized that I was never more than a cog in a larger machine. She’s been using the Coalition to conduct off-the-books operations that have nothing to do with national interests for years.

  “She might be the one calling the shots, but those jobs didn’t get done without you out in the field. So I’m asking you, from one professional to another, how many more are in on this? Is the entire company corrupt?”

  Boone offered only a sad smile. He shook his head. “You know how this works,” he said quietly. “You can’t keep a secret like this if too many people are in on it.”

  “Then who?” Cyrus demanded.

  Boone grinned. Did the kid think he’d be able to weed out what he considered to be corruption inside the Coalition? It wouldn’t matter, he reasoned. Cyrus would be dead soon; there was no reason to be dishonest.

  It’s a shame.

  “It’s not corruption,” Boone corrected. “We’re patriots. We’re just willing to do what needs to be done, even if no one knows it. Monica and I were doing this work for nearly two decades before you came along, and we’ll be doing it long after you’re gone. It’s just the way it is, Cyrus.”

  “Patriots?” Cyrus said, nearly choking on the word. “Call it whatever you like, but you’ve been busy lining your pockets every step of the way. That’s not patriotic, it’s opportunistic.”

  Boone felt his heart seize as if caught in a vise. His eyes narrowed as he tried to read the expression on Cyrus’s face.

  “Wait,” Cyrus countered. There was a fresh gleam in his eyes. “Don’t tell me that she’s been the only one lining her pockets this entire time?”

  While the logical side of his mind told him that Cyrus was making a play to divide them, Boone read nothing less than sincerity in the kid’s face. And while he didn’t believe his words at face value, Cyrus made a convincing argument. One that held the potential to be true, at least. If it was, it meant Boone had allowed Monica to leverage him in a way he had never expected.

  “Wow,” Cyrus needled. “I guess I wasn’t the only one to get played!”

  Cyrus slid off his stool and took a long look at Boone; grabbing his beer bottle, he headed for the door.

  Chapter 32

  The Cuban

  12:44 am

  Nearing the door, Cyrus heard the obnoxious scrape of a barstool across the tile floor behind him. He knew Boone was following him. It was to be expected. He anticipated what was coming but pictured it happening in one of two possible ways.

  Tipping back the beer bottle, Cyrus drained the last few drops just as he stepped over the threshold into the brisk night air. His ears virtually rang as they adjusted to the silence of the outdoors. The droning white noise of background conversation and music receded quickly into the background.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Boone only a few steps behind.

  Here we go…

  Three dozen yards away, a black SUV sat idling with its driver waiting. Their conversation inside had taken longer than expected. The man behind the wheel lowered the tinted window and looked at Cyrus, offering the slightest of nods before once more raising the window.

  Cyrus knew it would take only seconds to cross the deserted traffic lane to the safety of the armored SUV. Whatever was coming would happen quickly. He shot a look over his shoulder once more and found Boone had stopped a few paces away. Oddly, he’d stepped to the side of the walkway. He hadn’t followed him directly from the bar. If he had, he would’ve walked the same invisible path down the sidewalk. That he deviated from that path meant something.

  A sniper it is, Cyrus concluded.

  “You and Monica killed an innocent woman just to trick Voss into going back to work on your project,” Cyrus called out to Boone. “Nothing you can say will ever justify that.

  “Then you killed your entire field team to cover your need to drop off radar while you organized mercenary teams against the Voss family, and against me. Let Monica know I’ll be coming for her. I won’t let this stand.”

  Boone offered Cyrus a sad look, and then his eyes fell to his boots. “I know you won’t,” he said, seemingly speaking to his feet. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

  Boone looked up, finally taking Cyrus straight in the eye. Cyrus saw pain in Boone’s gaze, and he knew what was coming. When Boone’s eye line shifted a few degrees to settle on a building in the distance, Cyrus knew the moment of truth had arrived.

  Boone nodded to someone unseen.

  Cyrus refused to take his eyes off of Boone’s. He remained stock still, only raising the empty beer bottle. He held it upright in the palm of his hand, as if putting it on display.

  After two long seconds—in which nothi
ng happened—Boone looked at Cyrus with confusion registering on his face. He didn’t understand what was happening—or, in this case, not happening.

  The bottle in Cyrus’s hand suddenly exploded. Boone stepped backward in surprise and stared at Cyrus.

  Cyrus offered only a small smile.

  Quickly regaining his composure, Boone reached inside his flannel shirt. He was going for a gun.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Cyrus warned, before Boone was halfway to the firearm. “If you produce a weapon, he’s been cleared to drop you where you stand. If you leave it where it is, we can both walk away from this.”

  Even from thirty-feet away, Cyrus could see the penetrating stare from his former friend. He could also see the corded muscles of the man’s lower jaw. He ground his teeth and sorted through his options.

  There were none.

  “You know you won’t get far,” Boone warned.

  “That’s funny,” Cyrus grinned. He backed slowly toward the waiting SUV. “I was going to say the same thing to you. Tell the Red Queen what I said. It’s over.”

  Cyrus circled to the far side of the four-wheel drive and slipped into the passenger seat. No sooner had the door closed then the 4x4 was pulling away from the curb. It wouldn’t take Dargo long to break down the sniper rifle and meet them back at the compound. He just wondered what had become of the mercenary who had previously manned the weapon. While he didn’t know much about Dargo, he had little doubt that he’d made short work of the hired gun.

  Chapter 33

  The Voss Compound

  1:33 am

  The rendezvous with Dargo had taken place in the safety of the Voss Compound’s unground motor pool following the meet with Boone. Dargo asked surprisingly few questions given the circumstances. He simply reported dispatching a pair of hostiles who had taken up an offensive position on a distant rooftop; a spotter and a sniper. Then, per their plan, he’d commandeered their perch and waited for Cyrus and Boone to exit the bar.