Mitch hid his surprise. “If you already have Mobious, why the theatrics?” Mitch motioned to the interrogation room. “He’s got to be more use to you than me.”
Knightly studied Mitch before answering. “We haven't arrested Mobious. As far as I know, he’s still practicing law and industrial espionage in sunny, downtown San Diego. Quite frankly, I have no interest in him or his profiteering exploits.”
“Lucky for him.”
“It is important that you understand that you have a choice to make. You can choose to be uncooperative, or . . . you and your companions can work for me, on a special project.”
“And where are they?”
“Held in similar rooms to this, just a few feet away.”
“Why do you need us to work for you? Is there suddenly a world goon shortage?’
“I work for a US Government agency. Not an organization you’ve ever heard of, not one that congress knows it funds, but a useful organization. One that now requires your services.”
“Oh jeez, not more of ‘your country needs you' crap. What do I look like to you? Some wet behind the ears putz who believes in apple pie and Uncle Sam?”
“Your options are limited, Mitchell. Working on a single project for me would be, by far, the best alternative for you.”
Mitch fell into a thoughtful silence, then said, “I’ll bite. Exactly what kind of spook bullshit is it you’re into?”
“We watch all those other ... spooks, as you call them. The watchers of the watchers. That’s why very few people have ever heard of us. Anonymity is our shield.”
“Sounds kind of schizophrenic, everyone watching everyone else. So who watches you?”
“No one. We’re it. We’re the conscience, the last safeguard on the whole system. If we fail, then chaos. Naturally, we are very selective about our personnel. Normally you and your two companions would not come close to qualifying.”
Mitch tilted his head a little bored. “Makes you sound kind of self important. Besides, I’m done with spook stuff. The pay sucks.”
Knightly nodded. “Of course. The pay. Your record speaks for itself, Mitchell. A Marine Corps officer, graduated Annapolis no less, one combat tour earning a silver star for gallantry against the enemies of the United States.”
“I'm no hero.”
“Of course not. Then you quit the Corps and joined the Secret Service. Not exactly chasing the big dollars there, were you?”
“You forgot to mention I couldn’t hold down either job.”
Knightly smiled. “Yes, your military career was cut short because you were too . . . what was the word they used in your personnel file?”
“Insubordinate?”
Knightly nodded. “Then you were kicked out of the Secret Service for assaulting your superior officer. He was in hospital for several weeks.”
“He was in hospital for a month, and he was an asshole.”
“Our file says you were concerned about inadequate security for the President of France, whom your team was guarding at the time.”
Mitch shook his head evasively. “I don’t recall.”
“Men don’t join the Marines, or the Secret Service, for the pay and benefits. Men don’t volunteer to take a bullet for someone else for money, not men like you.”
“You don’t know dick about men like me.”
“I’ve been studying you for a long time, Mitchell. I know what kind of man you are. You dislike authority figures, yet you won't hesitate to risk your life for another man. You have . . . a sense of duty.”
“Don’t give me any of that flag waving bullshit. I burned my flag years ago. I wised up.”
“Sure you did,” Knightly said, unconvinced. “When you left the Secret Service you tried running your own security firm, but you took on a client you knew you couldn’t protect, a movie star I believe.”
“She was young, and beautiful. She had a psycho stalking her and she offered me a load of cash. What was I supposed to do?”
“When she died, your business failed. Potential clients thought you were unreliable.”
“I made a mistake. I thought I could protect anyone, even a whacked out cokehead. I was wrong.” Mitch ran a hand through his close cropped dark hair, remembering his frustration at the time.
“The police never found her murderer, even though there was no doubt as to his identity.”
Mitch’s expression hardened. “Maybe they didn't know where to look.”
“I assume his body will never be found?”
“Assume what you like.”
“I’m reassured, Mitchell. I need a passionate man, one capable of revenge.” Knightly paused a moment in thought. “So with your private security business ruined, you moved to California and turned to industrial espionage. Is this when you got smart and went for the money?”
“You could say that.”
“This is where our records are a little thin, but we have our suspicions about a number of break-ins at high technology research facilities. That is your specialty, isn’t it, high technology?”
“It’s where the money is. Ask Bill Gates.”
“Of course. It’s also the reason why you’re sitting here now, talking to me.”
“Oh right, we’re back to the controller thing. Except you still haven’t told me how you knew to have Delta Force hiding in a cupboard waiting for us.”
“Quite simple really. I hired you for that job, or rather, I contracted Mr Mobious to hire you.”
“Remind me to bust his ass next time I see him.”
“It was a test. I wanted to make sure you were the man I was looking for. I’m satisfied you are.”
“Lucky me.”
“Not so lucky,” Knightly said, his tone leaving Mitch with a strangely uncomfortable feeling. “I can see you’re a direct man, Mitchell, so I’ll give it to you straight. You have seen me, this facility-”
“All I’ve seen is the inside of this cruddy cell, and I never remember a face. At least not a butt ugly one.”
Knightly smiled at the insult. “Even so, there is no exit strategy for you. Work for me, and it’s an even money bet you will not be alive in three months time.”
Mitch looked puzzled. “If you’re this super spook organization, you must have plenty of money, all the latest techno toys. What do you need me for?”
Knightly hesitated, uncomfortably. “For this to work, I have to go outside my own organization, outside of the government.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know who I can trust. You may be insubordinate, and reckless, but I believe I can trust you. Right now, that is the most essential criteria. You and your two companions provide me with a viable option. And quite simply, there's no one else.”
“So Mouse and Gunter are part of this deal?”
“You are our prime candidate, but I know enough about Szilinsky, excuse me, ‘Mouse’, to appreciate his usefulness. While he lacks the formal training of our computer experts, he does seem to have a certain innate aptitude for his work. Wartenburg on the other hand is something of a mystery. We know he was BND, up until a few years ago.”
“Never heard of it,” Mitch lied.
“Come now. The Bundesnachrichtendiendst.”
“Gesundheit.”
“Germany's federal intelligence service, experts in electronic surveillance.”
“He is good at listening in on other people's conversations.”
“And he dabbles in the share market, with inside information judging by his results. Proof that his surveillance skills have been put to no good. But that’s not what concerns me, it’s the other aspect to him that concerns me.”
Mitch looked confused. “What other aspect?”
“He's easily swayed by money, bought by the highest bidder, without regard for right or wrong. He's a mercenary. That makes him vulnerable. You have a sense of duty, he doesn't. He could be turned against us.”
“You’re wrong. Money is a just a hobby for him, a way of keeping score. H
e's totally reliable, and I'd trust him with my life.”
“Hmm. Perhaps he is loyal to you, Mitchell,” Knightly said thoughtfully. “In any event, if we eliminated him, you wouldn't accept the mission. Therefore, Wartenburg is included.”
Mitch relaxed. “All right, I’ll bite. What’s the job?”
“I’ll explain more in due course, but it’s something you’re qualified for. If you succeed, you walk away clean.”
“And if I fail?”
“Failure will render you useless to us.”
“I’ll be dead?”
Knightly hesitated. “There are some things worse than death, Mitchell.”
“You mean I’ll turn into an asshole?”
“Only if you’re lucky.”
“And if I refuse, what happens?”
“The guards will catch you trying to escape from the microprocessor lab with classified US military secrets. There'll be a shoot out.” Knightly shook his head sadly. “All you had to do was throw down your gun, but you refused. They had no choice, I’m sorry. You’ll be sorely missed.”
“I assume I can forget about a phone call to my lawyer?”
“You are beyond the law here.”
Mitch nodded understandingly. “So we do your spook shit, whatever it is, then we walk? No charges, no prisons, no bullets in the back of the head?”
“That’s the offer.”
Mitch studied Knightly for a moment thoughtfully. “Professor, my price is two million dollars, half in my account now, half on completion. That will cover the three of us.”
Knightly hid his surprise. “You’re hardly in a position to negotiate.”
“Seller’s market, Gus. You have no one else. You need me, you said so yourself. By your standards I may be dumb, but I ain’t stupid. You’re not entrapping me, you’re hiring me. Considering you tricked me into putting my fingers in the cookie jar, so you could try this lame entrapment crap on me, I’m doubling my usual fee, just so next time, you learn to ask nicely.”
Knightly barely hesitated. “Done. Two million dollars, half in advance.”
Mitch leaned forward and stuck out his hand to shake. “In that case, you’ve got a deal, Boss.”
* * * *
A picture of a man’s face, slender, gray hair and beard, flashed onto the projection screen.
“His name is Dr Erich Steinus,” Knightly explained from the darkness beside the slide projector.
Mitch, Gunter and Mouse sat in a darkened conference room watching the slideshow, while Knightly narrated each image. While Mitch and Gunter showed no ill effects of their abduction, Mouse pressed an ice pack to his temple and periodically swallowed pain killers for the pounding in his head.
“He’s a scientist, the world leader in his field.”
“Which is . . . ?” Mitch asked.
“That’s not something you need to know.” Knightly said. “Dr Steinus was born in Vienna, migrated to the US when he was a teenager, has an IQ over a hundred and eighty, more than twenty points higher than Einstein, and he suffers from Asperger's syndrome, a high functioning form of autism. He was involved for more than a decade in a secret US government research program. We’d thought the program was cancelled due to failure, but we were wrong.”
“What sort of research? Weapons?”
“It’s technology of a revolutionary nature,” Knightly replied with carefully measured words. “Something you wouldn’t have heard of, so don’t waste time drawing irrelevant conclusions.”
“It’s alien technology, right?” Mouse jumped in excitedly. “From area 51? This guy is a UFO technology freak, isn’t he?”
“No, Mr Szilinsky, this has nothing to do with aliens.”
“Mouse. People call me Mouse.” He made a sweeping motion across the table, miming using a computer mouse, as his eyes fixed on the last remaining doughnut on the plate in the center of the table. He glanced around, making sure no one objected, then grabbed it and took a bite. He chewed delightedly and spoke with his mouth full. “Can we have more of these? Especially the chocolate ones.”
“You mean the four you’ve already eaten aren’t enough?” Knightly said with a hint of irritation, then returned his attention to the screen. “If we’re correct, our present problem is related to some very advanced theoretical ideas Dr Steinus had developed, ideas which now appear to be practicable. The problem is the good doctor hasn’t been heard of for several years.”
“We’re not detectives,” Mitch said. “If you can’t find him, how are we supposed to?”
“We know he worked for the Defense Department until approximately two years ago. It's possible he still does, although now the project, if it still exists, is hidden so deep, even we can’t find it.”
“And you won’t tell us what the project is?” Mitch asked.
“No.”
Mitch looked irritated. “So how the hell can we help you, if you spoon feed us crap through a key hole?”
“All information is compartmentalized for reasons of national security. All I can do is provide you with sufficient information to complete your tasks, as they are assigned to you.” Knightly’s look told them it was not negotiable.
“Where should we start looking?” Gunter asked. It was the first time the square jawed German had spoken during the meeting. Mitch knew Gunter’s silence indicated he was weighing up the options, deciding whether to commit or fight his way out when the time was right. Asking a question meant he was coming onboard.
“The Defense Department. If you can get access to their central computer, you might be able to find where he is and what he’s doing.”
“You want us to crack the Pentagon’s security?” Mouse asked incredulously as he licked icing from his fingers. “You’re nuts!”
“Whether or not you choose the Pentagon is up to you. There may be other avenues you could investigate before attempting to bypass US military security.”
Knightly brought a new image up on the screen. It contained several lines of text, a small photo of Dr Steinus in the upper right corner and several strings of numbers. Before he began his explanation, a slender young woman entered without knocking. Mitch glanced at her, catching a hint of golden hair and inviting curves silhouetted by the hall light, then the door closed and she was lost in the darkness.
Knightly continued as if no one had entered the room. “The information here can take you to his personnel file, at least the last one we had for him. It’s a black research project, so all information relating to him is classified. While that normally wouldn’t exclude us, in this instance, we’re completely out of the loop.” Knightly looked concerned. “That can only mean someone has encapsulated this information in an illegal manner.”
“Let’s assume we locate Steinus,” Mitch said. “Then what?”
“You report back to me. We’ll analyze the information and plan the next stage of the operation. During the analysis and planning phase, your team will be temporarily deactivated. That means no contact with anyone.”
“With anyone?” Mitch repeated uncertainly. “You mean anyone we know.”
“I mean we will find you an isolated location where you will have no human contact at all. You will assume contact with anyone is potentially a security breach. The isolation period will last until we reassign you.”
“Just so long as we got cable TV, an internet connection and pizza, you can put me where you want,” Mouse said glibly, then drained the last of the coffee from the urn.
Gunter looked at Mitch, a slight movement of his head indicating his deep suspicion of what they were getting into.
Mitch turned back to Knightly. “Is that it?”
“No, there’s one more thing.” Knightly turned up the lights and indicated the young woman seated at the end of the table. “This is Christa Malleson. I’m assigning her to your team.”
“Good morning,” she said with a slight nod.
Mitch looked from her back to Knightly. “We don’t need her.”
“Yes, y
ou do,” Knightly said firmly. “If everything goes according to plan, she will function merely as an observer. If on the other hand, you are faced with extraordinary circumstances, then her special talents will most definitely be required.”
“I never agreed to any girl tagging along,” Mitch said. “The deal was the three of us, no tourists, passengers, observers or flunkies.”
“I’m no one’s flunky,” Christa declared, then turned to Knightly with a bored look on her face. “I told you this Neanderthal wouldn’t agree.”
Mitch feigning confusion, leaned to Mouse and whispered loud enough for Christa to hear. “Pssst, what’s a Neanderthal?”
“Ape man,” Mouse leaned toward him, playing along. “Hairy, smelly, stupid.”
Mitch nodded with mock understanding. “Thanks.” Mitch turned back to Knightly. “I just can’t work with someone who disrespects me. Even a hairy, smelly, stupid ape man like me has feelings.”
“Mitchell, you are nominally in command of the mission,” Knightly explained. “But, if Christa gives you a direct order, then you follow it.”
“Now wait a minute. What’s this nominally in command bullshit? I’m not following her orders.”
“Yes, you will, because they’ll save your life.”
“And how exactly is this fairy princess going to save my life? Bake cookies so I don’t starve to death?”
“Christa brings skills to this team that none of you possess. I hope for your sake you will not have to call upon them.”
“What skills?” Gunter asked, sizing Christa up with a look.
“That’s classified.”
“Can she shoot?” Gunter persisted, unconvinced.
“I can handle myself,” Christa cut in. “And if you have any more questions, you can address them to me, not Gus.”
“We don’t know her,” Mitch said. “If this mission is as dangerous as you seem to think, the last thing we need is an unknown quantity that could put our lives at risk.”
“She’s going, and that’s it,” Knightly said with finality. “I’m not prepared to explain why she needs to be along, because those reasons involve classified information which you will not have access to unless absolutely necessary. Consider it a requirement of the two million dollars I’m paying you.”
The Siren Project Page 2
