Should he give her a gun? Teach her how to use it? Or even the sonic weapon?
He shook his head. As a raw newbie, she’d be just as likely to hurt herself with a gun as to save herself. And the generator was also a bad idea, since the user needed special ear protection. The debilitating shriek was strongest at the source, so even though the second use was non-lethal, if she used it, she’d remain unconscious for longer than those attacking her.
Even if none of this were true, wouldn’t giving her a weapon just scare her? Indicate that he was worried he might fail? And if he failed, with all of his training and experience, would any weapon really help her?
He sighed. No, the answer wasn’t to arm her. The answer was to be smarter and better than he had ever been. To not rest until he was certain she was protected like the gold in Fort Knox.
Arming her was tempting, no doubt. But the solution to keeping her safe was simply not to fail. Period. No matter what was thrown their way.
Reed took one last look at the slender physicist and returned to his room. He placed his gun and knife on the end table, and then fell into bed, not bothering to strip once again, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
***
Allison Keane awoke in a euphoric mood. The lovemaking had been passionate and profound, and her sleep had been deep and blissful.
By the time she reached the kitchen, Reed and Hoyer were already there. Both said good morning, but she could see in Reed’s eyes that he desperately wanted to embrace her.
She couldn’t blame him. She wanted to embrace him just as much.
“How was last night?” asked Hoyer. “Were you able to relax?”
“I was,” said Allie, trying to sound almost bored, and willing her eyes not to twinkle. “You were right, Major. It was just what the doctor ordered.”
“You both look great. Like your feet aren’t even touching the ground.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Allie, annoyed that her attempt to hide her euphoria had failed so miserably.
Reed stared wistfully at the young physicist. “Sorry to spoil the party,” he whispered, “but I need to get going.”
He sighed, and it was clear to Allie that he wasn’t happy about the prospect of leaving her, even for a few days or weeks.
“I was waiting until you woke up so I could say goodbye,” continued Reed. “At least goodbye for now. I’m sure the major is anxious to give you a tour of your new lab.”
“I’m anxious to get one,” said Allie. “But are you sure you can’t stay for breakfast, Zach? I bet the nanites make a mean Eggs Benedict.”
“As tempting as that is,” said Reed, “I really can’t. One of the major’s pilots is waiting for me at a nearby helipad. And there’s a park bench near Salt Lake City with my name on it.”
“Just be sure no cameras pick you up anywhere on your route,” said Hoyer.
“I will.”
“Good,” said the major. “And keep us posted.”
“Of course.”
“One last thing,” said Hoyer. “The most important of all. When you do find Aronson, as I’m sure you will, don’t contact him. And don’t try to take him out. Under any circumstances. It’s a suicide mission. You’re good, but you’ve seen what the nanites can do. So call me, and we’ll figure out how to take him down together. Using my military equipment and resources. And my nanites,” he added pointedly.
“Understood,” said Reed.
“Once Aronson is out of the way,” continued Hoyer, “I’d like you to join us as head of security.” He paused to let this offer sink in. “What do you think?”
“How can I refuse?” said Reed immediately. “Where else can I work with magical alien tech? Or help bring utopia to the world?” He shot a brief, longing glance at Allie. “And I feel like I have a good . . . rapport with your chief scientist,” he added. “Which isn’t a bad thing, either.”
Hoyer’s lips curled up into just the hint of a smile. “No,” he said, “not a bad thing at all.”
34
Colonel Sarah Hubbard sat alone in an office that was utilitarian and efficient but without any flair. Which matched her personality precisely. The space she spent most of her time in had all the high-tech bells and whistles anyone could want, with a plasma monitor that covered an entire wall, color printers—both the paper and 3D variety—and all manner of electronic security measures. But when it came to decorations, it sported nothing but a few perfunctory photos of her husband and grown children, and two potted plants, the minimum she could do to avoid getting a reputation as a dispassionate iron lady.
One who suddenly felt older than ever.
She had signed on to lead a group hidden in the shadows. A group waging a cold war for the future of the world. But that was the thing. It was supposed to be a cold war. Sure, she deployed trained operatives, ex-commandos, and engaged in sabotage and such, but it all seemed fairly innocent. Like her grandmother used to say, “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt.”
Well, people had been getting hurt of late. Lots of them. And the war she was waging was about as cold as a furnace.
She sighed and prepared to place a call to Steve Smith, the most obvious alias in human history, a call her superior insisted she make, despite being in the epicenter of a shit-show unlike anything she had ever seen. She had barely slept in days. The most innocent places in America, like Iowa and Utah, were being turned into war zones. The body count was mounting higher than in a first-person-shooter video game. And Allie Keane, the most important asset she had identified during her entire tenure, was now in the wind.
Not the best time to hold the hand of a curious spectator.
Yet here she was about to do just that. Again.
Her commanding officer had introduced her to this Steve Smith a few years earlier—over the phone, audio only—and she had been instructed to tell him whatever he wanted to know, as if he had all the security clearances he would ever need.
Who was he?
Hubbard was never told, just that if he called, she needed to be cooperative. And that she never needed to call him. With one important exception. He was especially interested in any breakthrough in quantum computing technology, and needed to be notified of any such development immediately. Finally, her superior had made it clear that no one else in her group could know that she was making these calls, or the nature of her discussions with the mysterious Smith.
He had only contacted her three times in two years, and she had never initiated contact herself. There had never been a need, as no breakthroughs in quantum computer tech had arisen that would warrant such a call.
Until last week. Until Dr. Allison Keane came along with a breakthrough that Hubbard had known met the threshold for disclosure. The colonel had strongly considered not contacting this Smith, anyway, but realized she had no choice. It would come out that she had failed to contact him, and she wouldn’t possibly be able to pretend that the discovery wasn’t a big enough breakthrough to warrant his attention. She’d quickly find her ass in a sling—at best.
The identity of this man, and why he warranted such special treatment, continued to be a mystery. During their few brief discussions she had found him bright and quick on the uptake, but not military. And it was also clear that he had never spent a day as an intelligence operative.
So how in the world was he contributing? To anything? If he was a scientist, he should be working with Tech Ops already.
Did this Smith have compromising photos of her commanding officer screwing a Chinese spy? Or a little boy? Or some less lewd equivalent that served as blackmail fodder?
In the final analysis, it didn’t really matter. Orders were orders. And this was one she couldn’t justify ignoring.
So right after Hubbard had assigned Commander Reed to shark-proof Allie Keane, and recruit her to Tech Ops, she had contacted Steve Smith. She had told him about Dr. Keane’s work, and he was as shocked as everyone else to learn about it, and especially its
origins. He had cut the call short so he could read the work for himself. When Hubbard next spoke to him, three hours later, it was clear that Smith wasn’t just interested in progress in quantum computing, but that he was a trained quantum physicist, himself.
Not that he had told her this, or anything else about himself. But it was abundantly clear from his questions, the words he chose, the understanding he had. He was just as facile with the jargon and concepts of quantum physics as he was out of his depth when it came to the military or intelligence.
Hubbard inhaled sharply as she prepared mentally for the imminent call, about as excited at the prospect of updating Smith as she would be about a trip to a dentist.
Or a proctologist.
“Jen,” she said to her personal AI, “put in a call to Steve Smith. Audio only.”
She had called him four times now in a matter of days, with this being the fifth. First, to tell him of Allison Keane. Second, to let him know that the brilliant young physicist had been abducted by parties unknown, but that Hubbard’s best operative, Commander Zachary Reed, was on their tail. Third, to inform Smith that Reed had successfully recovered Dr. Keane, and that she was safe and sound within a secure military base, and almost certain to join Tech Ops.
Smith had been ecstatic upon hearing this news. And why not? If Dr. Keane joined Tech Ops, he’d be able to keep total track of her, get all the updates he wanted. And he had insisted on being kept informed of her location, and the security measures being instituted to protect her.
And then there was the final call that Hubbard had made. When she had been forced to disclose to the mysterious Smith that they had lost Dr. Keane entirely. That she had vanished from the heart of a secure military base. Hubbard was pretty sure several veins on Smith’s forehead must have been bulging out like those of a cartoon character at this news, although he did an admirable job of not venting his rage on her, seeming to have decided it wasn’t wise to bite the hand that he needed to continue to feed him information.
Although he had likely berated her to her superior officer the moment he was off the phone.
Hubbard braced herself to deliver more bad news as Jen dialed. Smith picked up on the second ring. “Colonel Hubbard,” he answered. “Please tell me you’re calling because you’ve found Dr. Keane.”
“I’m afraid not,” she replied miserably. “But I do have new information to share.”
“New information can’t make up for losing Dr. Keane.”
“I’m well aware, Mr. Smith. But it’s all I have at the moment.”
“I’m listening.”
Hubbard took a deep breath. “First, we learned how she came to vanish from Fort Carson. It involved the base commander, General Tony Cameron. Long story short, the Chinese threatened to wipe out the general’s entire family if he didn’t cooperate.”
“Ruthless bastards,” said Smith. “But how did they even know where she was?”
“They planted a bug on her. One that managed to slip through our bug-detection protocols.”
“I see,” said Smith disapprovingly. “Even so, how is it that Commander Reed failed to stop this general? You said Reed was the best operative you have.”
“Because they wired Cameron with explosives, which, if detonated, would have killed Dr. Keane. Reed felt he had no choice but to play along.”
“Why would they kill their prize?”
Hubbard shook her head in disbelief. Once again, a clear demonstration that this guy didn’t think like an operative. “If they couldn’t have her, they wanted to make sure nobody could.”
“So where did they take her?”
“To an underground base near Manti, Utah. About a hundred forty miles south of Salt Lake City.”
“The Chinese have underground bases in the US?”
“Apparently so,” she replied casually, not wanting him to know that this had hit the entire US military and intel apparatus like a cattle prod to the gonads.
“Can I assume you’re mounting a mission right now to retrieve her?”
“No,” said Hubbard simply. “She’s no longer there.”
“Which means what? China?”
“We aren’t sure. We only learned about the base after she was already gone. After it had been attacked by another unknown party. Dr. Keane was brought to the subterranean part of the base, but a good portion of it was also aboveground, disguised as a farm. There were more than eighty casualties found. We can’t get an exact number of bodies because wars have been fought using less explosive than was used here. Fortunately, Allie Keane’s body wasn’t among them. In fact, as far as we can tell, all the dead were CCP personnel.”
She paused. “The way we see it, there are three possibilities. One, this was the result of some kind of civil war in the Chinese camp. Very, very unlikely. Two, the attacking party wiped out the entire base, including an unbreachable underground bunker, without losing a man. Or three, the attacking party lost a number of people, but took the time and care to remove their dead when they left. Whichever it is, whatever happened is extraordinary. Unprecedented.”
“How do you even know that Dr. Keane was there?”
“Because Commander Reed was with her. He checked in five hours ago. He reported that he and Allie Keane had been imprisoned underground at the Utah base. Soon after they arrived, he was knocked unconscious. When he awoke, just before he called me, he found himself on a park bench near Salt Lake City, more than a day after the massacre in Utah. He has no idea how he got there, and street cameras weren’t helpful.”
“Wasn’t he issued smart contact lenses? Lenses that relay everything he sees and hears to an AI connected to a supercomputer?”
“That’s true. But the Chinese commander removed them.”
“So he knows nothing?”
“Nothing about the battle. Or how he ended up on a park bench. But his intelligence on what happened at Fort Carson is valuable. And so is his report that Dr. Keane had been taken by the Chinese to a subterranean base in Utah.”
“If you say so,” replied Smith. “I don’t see it, myself. Intel on who snatched her, and especially her current location—that’s valuable. Intel on where she was after being snatched, given she’s no longer there . . . not so much.”
“Knowing the Chinese had her, and where, could end up providing critical clues. We know a massacre took place where they were being held. And that all cameras there were wiped. I wasn’t initially told of the Utah massacre because the unit that investigated had no idea it had anything to do with Tech Ops. Or even that there was a Tech Ops.”
“But after Reed resurfaced and reported, you made sure to insert yourself.”
“That’s right. Those at the scene reported that the security there, especially on the underground part of the base, was extraordinarily solid. The only way down was via a small elevator, which could only house three to four men, and which was always monitored. So the Chinese personnel couldn’t have been surprised. Not like this. Meaning someone likely wiped out this part of the base from within.”
“You can’t be suggesting that Dr. Keane is responsible. That a twenty-eight-year-old physics genius massacred dozens of armed soldiers while Commander Reed was unconscious.”
“Of course not. She isn’t a Marvel superhero. Not that anyone has offered a better explanation.”
“Unless Commander Reed is lying.”
“Why would he lie?”
“Why would anyone lie,” said Smith bluntly. “It’s part of the human condition.”
“Not Commander Reed’s condition. And certainly not about this. He awoke on a park bench, with Allie Keane either dead or in the wind. He was beside himself. If he had been conscious, he would have fought to the death to help her. She isn’t just his job. He’s fallen for her like a ton of bricks. He’s well on his way to falling in love, even.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. He’s never said so explicitly. Or even anything close. But I can tell. The take-home message is th
at he’s absolutely dedicated to her protection. His heart and mind both. I told you he took several bullets for her in the woods outside of Sioux City. He was wearing body armor, but he could have been shot in the head. So when he tells me what happened, and that he’s desperate to find her, desperate to learn who did this, I believe him. He was adamant he be assigned to run a team to do just that. He’s the best I have, so of course I agreed. But if I would have forbidden him from pursuing whoever took her, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d do it anyway. An army couldn’t stop him. He’s going to move Heaven and Earth to find out what happened, and get her back.”
“Assuming she’s still alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess it’s good he’s on the case.”
There was a long pause, and Hubbard sensed that the wheels in Smith’s head were turning.
“Mr. Smith?” she said after several seconds had passed.
“I’m here, Colonel. Just taking a moment to think. I appreciate the update. I know it can’t be fun to report such bad news. I also know how busy you must be. So I won’t keep you much longer. I just have a few more questions, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“By all means,” said Hubbard. “Ask away.”
“First, how do I get in touch with this Zachary Reed of yours?”
“Why do you ask?” said the colonel. “Just to remind you, you aren’t authorized to let anyone know you and I are communicating. Including Reed. So contact with him is off limits.”
“Not true, Colonel. You aren’t authorized to tell others about our conversations. I don’t have any such restrictions. And you’ve been given clear orders to tell me what I want to know. So let me ask again, how can I get a hold of Commander Reed?”
“Why do you need to contact him?”
“I’m not sure I do,” said Smith evenly. “Let’s just say he’s the kind of guy I like to have on my speed dial. Just in case I ever feel like reaching out.”
35
Zachary Reed glanced down at his ringing cell phone with contempt. How the mighty had fallen. The phone was state of the art. The latest high-end version issued to top intelligence operatives. It was unbreakable, untraceable, and possessed scores of advanced features civilians would kill for. Yet compared to Eve and his contact lenses it was a blunt tool used by cavemen. He still had a long, agonizing week to wait before his new lenses were ready, and he was counting the hours.
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