by Brad Taylor
President Hannister said, “Good to see you, Kurt. I’ve only got about thirty minutes to hide in my schedule, so let’s get to it.”
Kurt started his slideshow, going through the various operations, and received no pushback. Knuckles’s eyes were glazing over, until Kurt reached South Africa.
He gave the current assessment and then said, “I’d like to continue with the operation. I know it’s weak, but Tyler Malloy is doing something bad, and there’s not a lot of risk here. I can’t prove a clear and present danger, but Malloy’s trying to get a tool that will be harmful to United States interests.”
Knuckles inwardly chuckled. “Trying to get a tool” was far removed from “acquiring nuclear triggers that are impossible to get.”
Then the national security advisor spoke, and he realized that the crowd wasn’t nearly as out of tune as they appeared to be on the Sunday talk shows.
“Kurt, your mandate ends with sanctioned terrorist groups. This guy is a US citizen, and, yeah, he might be doing something bad, but it’s not your problem set. I was against granting you Alpha authority for Tel Aviv to begin with. No way will I agree to further actions in South Africa.”
“Sir, I understand, on the surface, but the man I’m following is working with terrorists. Yes, he’s an American citizen, but he’s also a threat. Do we want to chase the triggers after they’re released, simply because they ended up in the hands of a terrorist group we’re sanctioned to interdict? That makes no sense.”
Amanda Kroft, the newly minted secretary of state, voiced her opinion. “And letting you run amok is the answer? How many disparate ‘threats’ in the future will you find that you need to interdict? How far up the food chain do we hunt? This man is an arms dealer. Scum, yes, but legal scum. Maybe you think we should start hunting the head of Northrop Grumman? Where does it end?”
Knuckles was taken aback at the ferocity of the comments. The new secretary of state was pretty attractive, in a cougar sort of way, and he’d thought she would be on their side by her appearance, because he was a little bit of a man-whore at heart. He had no idea of the cesspool Kurt waded through on a daily basis to give him the authority to operate. It was an eye-opener.
President Hannister held up a hand, and the room grew quiet. He said, “Kurt, do you really feel this is necessary? Do you truly think hunting this man with the Taskforce is in our best interests?”
“Yes. I do. He’s got something very bad at his core. I admit I don’t know what he’s up to, but I do know if he gets those triggers, he’s going to cause problems.”
Amanda said, “Problems how?”
Kurt looked at her and said, “Problems like a lot of dead people, and a response from the United States that’ll cost billions of dollars. It won’t happen tomorrow. It’s not a ticking time bomb like the movies, but it’s real nonetheless. He gets those triggers and he’ll sell them to the highest bidder, and whoever buys them will not have our interests at heart.”
She leaned back and said, “So says the man with a hammer. Everything is a nail.”
Knuckles saw Kurt smile at her, not the least bit offended. He said, “Ma’am, sometimes there are actual nails in the world. And I admit I’m the hammer.”
Knuckles watched the stare-down. She said, “Okay, Kurt. Convince me.”
He said, “Knuckles, how many men have you killed?”
Knuckles was brought up short at the utterance of his callsign. He said, “Sir?”
The entire room rotated around to look at him.
Kurt said, “How many men have you killed?”
“Sir, I don’t know. I don’t keep a count.”
Kurt smiled, then said, “Yes. I guess that was a poor framing of the question. How many men have you killed that could have been prevented?”
Knuckles now knew why he was in the room. And he believed in the question. He said, “Almost every single damn one.”
The secretary of state looked at him, and he locked eyes with her. She said, “Who are you?”
Knuckles said, “Well, ma’am, I’m not the killer man. I’m the killer man’s son. But I do the killing until the killer man comes.”
Her face scrunched in confusion, and Kurt said, “He’s a Taskforce Operator. He works for you. And what he’s telling you is that preventing terrorism is much better than reacting to it.”
Knuckles nodded, keeping the eye of the secretary of state, and not because of the current fight. She’s a little hottie. She brushed her hair aside, and he saw she had no ring on her hand. Hmmm . . .
She maintained eye contact for longer than necessary, then broke it. He knew it was because of his stare. She said, “Okay, Kurt, what are you asking for here?”
Knuckles realized they’d won and then wondered if Kurt had brought him here solely for that exchange. Surely he wouldn’t do that. I’m an Operator. Not a piece of meat. He didn’t just do that . . .
Kurt said, “All I want is Alpha authority to continue to South Africa. From the data Pike sent, we have a thread of a phone that was used in Tel Aviv. It’s now in Cape Town. All I want to do is what we did in Tel Aviv. Just explore. We won’t do anything overt.”
Alexander Palmer, the national security advisor, laughed and said, “You just briefed us on a damn fiasco in Tel Aviv. What part of that was ‘just exploring’?”
“Sir, we wouldn’t have this thread if Pike hadn’t intercepted the men hunting Shoshana. He took the initiative, and now we are where we are. I don’t know the intersection, but I do know it’s worth exploring.”
Palmer said, “None of that had anything to do with Tyler Malloy. None. It was all about Pike’s misguided loyalty and willingness to ignore orders. You just said he lost the actual thread of Tyler by chasing after these other guys.”
“I disagree. Tyler’s chief of security met them in Jaffa, just before they began hunting Shoshana. I admit, conducting the operation in support of Shoshana caused Pike to lose contact with Tyler, but he had to make a choice, and he determined a clear and present danger that was tied into what Tyler was doing. He opted to focus on the threat, but there’s a connection. I just need to find it.”
Surprisingly, Amanda Kroft said, “I’m inclined to let them continue.” And she glanced at Knuckles when she said it.
Knuckles thought, I cannot believe Kurt did that.
President Hannister said, “I am as well. Palmer, put it to a vote.”
He did, and Knuckles watched the lethal authority of the United States vote in favor of continued action, all because of his eye contact.
The meeting broke up, and he rejoined Kurt on the way out the door. When they were out of earshot, he said, “Tell me you didn’t just prostitute me.”
Kurt laughed and said, “You ever bend over backward for a pretty face?”
Knuckles glared at him, and Kurt said, “Oh no. Not you. Never. Well, I have. And you have a pretty face. Sorry if it’s a role reversal, but I met Amanda at her in-brief. She’s a holy terror, but she’s got a soft spot for the military. I saw it in action. She really likes the military, which is a first for a SECSTATE. And you look like an Abercrombie & Fitch model. Sorry. Not sorry.”
Knuckles said, “That is the most sexist, bullshit thing I’ve ever heard.”
They reached the car, and Kurt said, “Yeah, except it worked. Look, she’s good people. She’s still finding her way, and I knew she’d fight this just to prove she wasn’t a wallflower. I had to defeat that, and I used you. It worked.”
They entered the car, and Kurt put it in drive. He said, “Don’t get all pissy about it. Christ, I’m the one dealing with integrating females.”
Knuckles looked out the window, then said, “I guess that’s all I’m good for now. Integrating females, or getting them to vote your way.”
Kurt laughed and said, “No. That’s not all you’re good for. There’s a reason I wanted y
ou to see that meeting. And it’s because of Pike.”
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“Pike is on to something. He doesn’t know what it is, and neither do I. But he’s peeling something rotten. I put him on that thread, and he’s unwinding it.”
Knuckles waited for more, and when none came, he said, “Okay, so what? That’s par for the course. And I don’t even play golf.”
Kurt looked at him and said, “Shoshana was in that room during the VTC yesterday. I know it, and you know it. No matter what I said today, the original mission is gone in Pike’s mind. That’s what I meant when I asked you if you’d really listened.”
Knuckles nodded, feeling out of his depth. Wondering if this was what Pike went through every time he talked to Kurt. He said, “And what does that mean?”
“It means I need you to keep Pike on track. I don’t know what the fuck Shoshana’s up to, but whatever it is, Pike will see it through. Those two are connected.”
“And how am I going to help?”
“Pike’s going to go on the warpath. I know him. It’ll happen sooner or later, and he’ll need some shooters. He’ll ask for you.”
Knuckles couldn’t believe the 3-D chess moves Kurt was making. And he honestly didn’t like the implications. He said, “Sir . . . I’m not deploying to trick Pike. I’m not sure what this conversation is about, but I can’t do that.”
He locked eyes with Kurt, afraid of the anger, but said, “I can’t.”
Kurt pulled into the underground garage, passing a sign for Blaisdell Consulting, the cover organization for the Taskforce. He threw the car into park and said, “I would never ask you to do such a thing. That’s not what I meant.”
He sat still for a minute, then turned and said, “Pike is doing what we all would. It’s why I sent him on this, but sometimes what’s pure isn’t . . . pure.”
Knuckles said, “That’s bullshit. And you know it.”
Kurt smiled and said, “Yes. I do. Pike’s going to solve this problem, but he needs someone to keep him in balance.”
Knuckles barked a laugh, trying to gain a foothold on what Kurt wanted and failing. He said, “Yeah, he’ll solve it. No doubt. What makes you think he’ll need shooters? It’s just an Alpha operation.”
Kurt said, “We have a sanctioned mission from the Oversight Council, which is to prevent the selling of nuclear triggers to terrorists. Pike knows that, but he also has a sweet spot for Shoshana. And she’s a fucking cyclone.”
He turned to Knuckles and said, “Pike is pure, and so are you. Aaron is gone, but he’s at the heart of this thing. Shoshana doesn’t care about nuclear triggers. All she wants is Aaron back home—and he might be dead already. Whatever the truth is, it’s going to twist Shoshana until she explodes. Pike’ll see it happening, and he’ll be torn between his mission and her. He’ll defer to her. Defer to hunting for Aaron. I know him. He can’t do otherwise. Your job will be to get him back on the path of our mission.”
He turned the car off, looking out the windshield, lost in thought. He glanced back at Knuckles and said, “Trust me, Pike’s going to want some shooters. And I’m sending you.”
32
Aaron took his bowl of rancid rice and retreated to the corner of the cell, putting his back against the wall, surrounded by the suit clan. Since the fight the night before, he’d taken to eating with them at every meal. They had some sort of protected status in the jail, and he could use all the help he could get. As usual, he committed half of his meager rations to the pot for those who were being punished by the guards. A small price to pay for the benefits he was gaining.
Thomas Naboni took his bowl and sat next to him. He ate in silence for a moment, waiting on the guards to leave. When they did, he passed a piece of torn paper to Aaron.
Aaron opened it, seeing a note from Alex. It was succinct: I’m okay. Your friend has ensured that happens. Don’t worry about me. But don’t leave me when you go.
Beside the sentence was a smiley face. That was all, but it said much more than it seemed. One, it relieved the enormous worry he’d had about her condition. If she had the ability to actually write down a smiley face, she was doing okay. Two, the note told him that she still trusted him to get her out. Still believed in his James Bond, Mossad, nonexistent miracle ability. It gave him pain, but he would get her out. Sooner or later.
Aaron nodded, then said, “Thank you. This means a great deal to me.”
Thomas said, “She is being strong. Trust me, her incarceration is not easy. All I did was prevent any assaults against her. It would be better for you to confess to whatever you’ve done and get her out of here. She won’t last.”
Aaron said, “I’ve done nothing. I mean that. We were abducted in Johannesburg, drugged, then driven to Durban. I was tortured there, and now I’m here.”
Thomas leaned his head back, looking suspicious. He said, “You weren’t captured here? In Maseru?”
“I don’t even know where Maseru is.”
Thomas took in the words, then said, “But you’re here, in this prison.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
There was a commotion outside the door to their cell room, and Aaron saw the guard become agitated, snapping to attention. Everyone began vibrating and chattering. A man entered, and Aaron recognized him as the African at the meeting in Johannesburg. Lieutenant General Jonathan Mosebo.
Thomas fell back at his entrance, scurrying away, his star wilting under the sun of the general. Aaron saw true fear on his face.
The general advanced on Aaron, ignoring all else in the cell. He reached him, and Aaron put down his bowl of rice, sitting cross-legged and saying not a word.
Mosebo said, “So you’ve survived. I wouldn’t have expected it.”
Aaron remained mute.
Mosebo bent over, and the guard known as Lurch circled behind Aaron. Mosebo cupped his chin and said, “I want to know what you’re doing with the Americans.”
Aaron said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Lurch hammered him at the top of the neck, right where the skull met the spine, eliciting a scream. Aaron fell forward onto his face, and Lurch grabbed him, jerking him upright. Panting in the pain, Aaron said, “I don’t know anything about any Americans. I don’t even know where I am.”
Mosebo slapped him, not hard, but enough to telegraph that worse was coming. He said, “There is a United States Special Forces team here. I want to know why. They claim it’s just security assistance for the embassy. Did you call them?”
Aaron laughed and said, “How? How would I do that? And if I did, why am I still here?”
Mosebo’s face contorted into a rage, and Aaron realized he was paranoid. Truly paranoid crazy, looking for the bogeyman everywhere—even in this cell that he owned. Before he could get punched again, Aaron blurted out, “I don’t even know who you are. I have no idea why I’m here. I’m nothing but a diamond merchant.”
The comment took the heat off the boiling water. Mosebo nodded, then said, “I want to know why you were in Johannesburg.”
“I told the South African in Durban. The one who questioned me. I gave him all my answers. Ask him. He knows I’m nothing important.”
Mosebo squatted down, getting face-to-face. “I don’t trust that man either. He tells me to keep you alive, and I wonder why, if you’re not important. It would be much easier to bury you under a bridge, but he won’t allow it. Who are you?”
Realizing his life was on the line, Aaron showed fear, blubbering like the corporate whore he was supposed to be. Through his weeping, he said, “I promise, I know nothing. I’m a nobody. A nobody.”
In a pique, Mosebo lashed a hand forward, cuffing Aaron in the head. He said, “Maybe your little friend will provide some answers.”
Aaron’s face snapped up, locking eyes with Mosebo, and he saw the man inward
ly shrink at the murder in his eyes, the violence held just below the surface. It was nothing overt, but Aaron realized he’d made a mistake. Mosebo had gained a glimpse into Aaron’s true self.
Mosebo regained his composure from the show of fear and leveraged the weakness in Aaron’s response.
He said, “You will tell me who you are. Or I’ll take it out on her. I’ll be back.” He cuffed Aaron’s head again and said, “You understand?”
Aaron looked at him and nodded, but he could still see the fear in Mosebo’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to let slip who he was, what he was capable of, but he had, and it had bought him time. How much, he didn’t know.
Lurch kicked him in the kidney, knocking him forward, and they left the cell. Gradually, the men inside began to stir. Thomas came forward, looking at his face and saying, “Did they harm you?”
“No. Nothing worse than I’ve felt before.”
Thomas said, “Who are you? For real.”
“I’m a nobody. I keep telling everyone that.”
Thomas sat back on his heels and said, “You are a liar; that much is plain.”
Aaron sighed and said, “I’m a nobody here. I have no idea who that guy is or why I’m locked up.” He looked at Thomas and said, “Who are you? As long as we’re being all honest.”
Thomas looked toward the door, making sure the guards were out of earshot, then said, “I’m a nobody as well. Here.”
“What does that mean?”
Thomas crossed his legs, settling in. He said, “You’re not some insignificant person. Somewhere, you’re a somebody. And I need a somebody. Your friend said, ‘Don’t leave me when you go.’ Why would she say that?”
“She places faith in me. She truly is nothing in this game, and she’s my responsibility. I told you that before. We’re trapped in a design not of our making.”
Thomas looked at him for a moment, then said, “I believe that to be true. But it’s not the full story. General Mosebo has only visited this prison twice before, and each time, it was for me.”
He raised his shirt, showing jagged scars across his belly.
