Black Sword (Decker's War, #5)

by Eric Thomson

  “Of course, this is merely the first of many little surprises we’ll uncover,” Decker said in a philosophical tone. “Say what you like about working in the Special Operations Section, but it sure has its moments.”

  Forty-Three

  “All right, people.”

  Decker’s booming voice cut through the chatter as he walked up to the map projection covering one of the command post walls. In a matter of seconds, QD Vinn’s troopers along with Talyn, Redmon, and Bayliss fell silent and turned their attention on Zack.

  “I called us together so we can review what we’ve learned from tailing the target for a week. Time is not on our side, and our next window of opportunity opens in forty-eight hours, leaving us tomorrow for rehearsals. Who wants to start?”

  QD Vinn climbed to his feet and joined Zack by the map.

  “Our boy lives in an expensive housing estate on the right side of town. I didn’t know colonels had that kind of money. The houses are on large properties, surrounded by trees, hedges, fences, or walls. Posh. Very posh. Lots of perimeter security, lots of privacy, and lots of discretion. Wynt is not only a man who seems to enjoy luxury, but he’s also a creature of habit, like most humans. Our good colonel believes himself to live in a low threat environment, and doesn’t think he’s a high-value target.”

  “Little does he know,” one of the troopers said, to the amusement of his comrades.

  “Yes, little does he know,” Vinn continued. “Wynt keeps to the same roads on his commute between home and HQ, with a side-trip to see his girlfriend on Mondays and Thursdays.”

  A red trace appeared on the map, with a secondary blue one leading to Kydd’s residence.

  “He doesn’t seem to socialize much, other than taking lunch at his club three days a week.”

  “That would be the same club frequented by other Black Sword members,” Redmon interjected. “I was Wynt’s guest frequently. Had I continued to play nice with them, membership would have ensued. Sorry, QD. Please continue.”

  Vinn gave her a nod.

  “No need for apologies, sir. So far, we’ve seen him stop at the same food store every third day. It’s right on his route.” A spot on the map flared green. “We have only one weekend as a baseline, but he seems to like solitary nature hikes. He certainly has the right high-end equipment, and it’s seen a good amount of use so we can assume he’s not just a poser.”

  “Wynt’s posing as an honest Marine.”

  “Aye, but we’re about to correct that, Ben,” Decker said. “Anyone have something to add about Wynt’s habits?”

  Paulus raised her fist.

  “The target doesn’t strike me as having a lot of situational awareness. I didn’t see his eyes move a lot, scanning his surroundings like ours do, when he’s walking around.”

  “True,” one of the other team leaders, Lin Huang nodded in agreement. “I know we’re good at fieldcraft, but a Marine who’s properly alert would have sensed something. Yet he hasn’t varied his route once in the entire week which is the first thing you do if you suspect surveillance.”

  “Wynt’s been a staff weenie since he picked up his major’s leaves,” Bayliss said. “And from what I heard on the grapevine, he wasn’t much of a field guy during his tour with the 19th Marines. Pretty ho-hum as company commander; preferred his comfort to leading from the front.”

  “And the bastard wonders why he’ll never get stars,” Redmon muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s a damned miracle he made it to full colonel.”

  “That’s an interesting point,” Talyn said. “It might be worth keeping in mind for later when we dig up Wynt’s associates. He may have a friend higher in the food chain who had him promoted and posted to the Commandant’s staff.”

  “Anything else on Wynt?” When no one spoke or raised a hand, Decker said, “Next item — the best spot to take him. It must be before he steps on his property since it’s fully wired for security.”

  “There’s only one place,” QD said. “Josh and I ran the route a few times on our own, doing a terrain reconnaissance.”

  Vinn pointed at a spot near the triangle marking Wynt’s home.

  “He has to take a secondary road leading in and out of the housing estate. It has a few artistic twists and turns, and a solid tree line on either side. We have one car waiting around a curve to block the road, one team on foot waiting in ambush nearby and another car coming up the rear. The surveillance on his ass will allow us to time everything right, and then, bam! Since it’s almost dark when he usually gets home, his field of vision will be restricted as well.”

  “What about the estate’s other residents?” Talyn asked.

  “We’ve watched the road for a few days at the times Wynt comes home, and there isn’t much traffic. But if a civilian comes through at the same time as the target, we’ll have to abort,” Vinn replied.

  “Any police or private security surveillance?”

  “That’s the beauty of the winding road. It has a few blind spots that can’t be seen from either the main drag or the estate’s nearest properties. We found nothing in between that might catch us in action. The area is sufficiently exclusive they want no one spying on comings and goings, so long as their properties have protection.”

  “An estate for those wealthy enough to afford it,” Decker said. “But not so wealthy or important that they might attract attention from the sort of organized crime that favors kidnapping to go along with extortion. I’m willing to bet Wynt’s neighbors are upper management or low-level senior executives, the sort whose earnings are more in the general or flag officer realm.”

  “Any generals or admirals living there?” Another trooper asked.

  “Fortunately, no. Right, folks. That’s what the situation looks like. Are there any final comments, points, or questions we should debate? If not, we’ll plan the snatch and grab operation, and discuss tomorrow’s rehearsals.”

  *

  “Our package is out for delivery.” The anonymous voice on the radio startled Decker out of his ruminations.

  After taking part in the previous day’s rehearsals, he had elected to go with the snatch team aboard the rear cut-off car, currently parked in a lot by the store Wynt frequented on his way home. That left Redmon and Talyn back at the safe house with Bayliss, who had orders to evacuate them if the snatch turned sour and the mission was compromised.

  “Roger,” Paulus replied.

  Shadows that had been lengthening throughout the late afternoon faded away as Caledonia’s sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a band of mauve sky rapidly turning black. Stars, arrayed in constellations vastly different from those imagined by humans living on a planet light years away, winked into existence and dotted the firmament with bright, twinkling diamonds.

  The city and its suburbs took on a different cast under the soft illumination of public lights, but the stream of cars headed in every direction didn’t abate. Sanctum, as befitted one of the Commonwealth’s key cities, worked late and often partied hard behind discrete doors, especially on a Friday, the traditional end of the week.

  “Delivery’s not on the regular route,” the same voice broke through the car’s tense silence. “Detouring to Fun City.”

  “Crap,” Decker swore under his breath. Wynt was paying his paramour a visit. That meant another hour or two of waiting.

  Then, after another interval, “Looks like Fun City’s having a beer blast. There are at least a dozen cars already, and more coming. Delivery’s making a stopover.”

  “Hopefully, the bugger won’t turn it into a sleepover,” Paulus said, glancing at Decker over her shoulder.

  “The friction of war, Carrie, but it may play to our advantage. The later he heads home, the less chance of a civilian stumbling across our operation.”

  Paulus nodded.

  “True enough, so long as he heads home tonight and not after morning nookie and a full breakfast.”

  “Meh.” Decker shrugged. “I’ve always believe
d a condemned man should be entitled to a solid meal and a last bit of sex before execution.”

  “We’d better make tracks, if it’ll be a while, to avoid anyone getting suspicious.” Paulus nudged her driver. “Take us on a circuit around the freight yards, Reg.”

  *

  Midnight had come and gone by the time their radio sprang to life again.

  “Looks like the party’s over in Fun City.”

  “About time,” one of Paulus’ troopers grumbled.

  She ignored him and said, “Time to head back, Reg.”

  At that late hour, traffic had faded to almost nothing on the roads leading towards Wynt’s residential area. Decker briefly wondered whether they might be more obvious to their quarry and spook him, even if his situational awareness wasn’t up to typical Marine standards.

  “Delivery’s on its way.”

  And just like that, it was too late to worry. They returned to the parking lot and waited by the roadside, lights out.

  “Number one, look sharp.” A warning from the surveillance car that Wynt was about to pass Paulus.

  “Standing by,” she replied.

  “I have him,” the rear observer said, staring at his optical sensor. “He’s keeping it nice and leisurely.”

  Wynt’s ground car passed them in silence, moving with an almost eerie precision.

  “He has the autopilot on,” Decker said as they pulled out behind him after a suitable interval.

  “A few drinks too many, perhaps. I’ll bet they had the good stuff flowing freely.”

  “Remind me to check the recording of that party, Carrie. It might be useful to see who was on Sera Kydd’s guest list.”

  “Yep.” She nudged her driver again. “Not too close, Reg.”

  Another anonymous voice came over the radio.

  “Number two and three, ready.”

  Decker glanced out the rear window and saw number four, the surveillance car in their wake. It and the two men inside were his only reserve.

  “Coming to the junction,” Reg said. “And the target’s turning for home.”

  An uncanny calm enveloped Decker. The die had been cast.

  They slowed and left the main road seconds later, headlights bright against the dull surface of the tree-lined lane. Wynt’s car vanished behind the first meander, though they could still see the glow of his lights. Those stopped moving with an abruptness that took even Decker by surprise. Reg gunned his engine without prompting, and they swerved around the curve, coming upon the unfolding tableau.

  Number two, QD’s car, was blocking the road, its driver sitting by the open door, holding his head in his hands and rocking sideways as if he had just been in an accident. Wynt’s vehicle stopped with the exactness only an AI could manage. The driver side door slid back, and a tall silhouette in Marine black stepped out.

  As if it had been a signal, four shadows erupted from the trees and ran at him with terrifying speed. One slapped the side of his face, affixing a knockout patch, while two more seized him by the arms. The fourth climbed into Wynt’s car and ducked under the control panel to deactivate the AI.

  Wynt’s body slackened under the anesthetic, and he was unceremoniously bundled into QD’s vehicle. It sprang to life almost immediately, slewing around to face the main road.

  “I guess they didn’t need us,” Paulus said. “Reg, give ‘em space.”

  First, the blocking car, then Wynt’s, now under a trooper’s control passed them. Then, they spun around to follow.

  The entire snatch portion of the operation had taken less than ninety seconds. A professional job worthy of Vinn’s Special Forces operators.

  QD’s voice came through the speakers.

  “We’ve signed for the delivery.”

  “Bring it in,” Talyn replied.

  Forty-Four

  Decker stood by the open cell door, staring at Wynt’s recumbent form after Vinn’s troops had left him lying on the floor, naked. He had been in the same position before and wondered how the refined, comfort-loving staff officer would react when he woke in a few hours.

  Familiar footsteps rang out on the bare concrete floor, then Talyn’s gentle hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Memories?”

  “Yup, and a few qualms, now that we’ve crossed our own Rubicon.”

  “A bit late. Did QD send the car’s AI into hibernation? The moment Wynt is reported missing, the cops will search Sanctum’s traffic control system. If they manage to ping the AI, it’ll lead them here.”

  “It’s off, but we should probably confirm. We could always stash it elsewhere.” He nodded at Wynt. “How long until he’s conscious?”

  “About six hours, which I suggest we spend resting. Once we start on him, it’ll be intense and stay that way until we have everything.”

  “A shot of drugs or the mind probe should reduce the effort.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Neither of us has the training to use the probe and chemicals have their own issues. We’ll have to run tests on him once the sedative’s worn off to see if he’s at risk of an anaphylactic reaction to interrogation drugs.”

  “And if he is?”

  “We’re back to old-fashioned methods, and they take time. Unless you want to try torture, which has its own issues, especially when it comes to reliability of the information extracted.”

  “What we need is a Sister of the Void,” he replied, thinking of Delia Ward, “or someone with the talent.”

  “How did things work out for you the last time you met a rogue empath?” She asked with a touch of asperity.

  “Well...” he glanced at her and leered, “as a matter of fact...”

  Talyn gave him a playful slap.

  “Mind out of the gutter, big boy. Come on; let’s leave Wynt to his slumber.”

  “Right.” He stepped back and touched the door controls. It slammed shut with a loud snick. “Before I forget, we have a video of Kydd’s party to review. I’d like to know if anyone else of interest attended. The information might help with our interrogation.”

  “Already taken care of. Ari’s running it through facial recognition.”

  “Isn’t tapping into the Fleet database risky?” He asked as they headed towards the winding stairs.

  “Sure, but we’re comparing the video to open source images from the net. The comparison will take longer and may sometimes be inconclusive, but it should go unnoticed.”

  “Should being the operative word. It still carries risk.”

  “Perhaps, but even if a surveillance AI notices a surge, what differentiates ours from any of the thousands running at the same time?”

  “The targets?”

  “Again, perhaps. Remember, we’re operating from behind dozens of redirections and cut-offs. Even with every bit of computing power on Caledonia, it would take time to track the activity back here. Marguerite’s connections to the net were specially designed for the best anonymity money can buy.”

  “Unless someone from our own bunch gets wind of unauthorized activity at this particular location.”

  “Who’s saying it’s unauthorized? We intelligence people tend not to talk to each other, even within sections.”

  Decker raised a hand in surrender.

  “Okay, stop. I’m getting a headache.”

  They took the steps two by two and emerged on a ground floor gone quiet with most of QD’s troopers asleep, except for the sentries. Redmon was alone in the improvised command post, transfixed by the parade of pictures on her screen.

  “I’d like to double-check Wynt’s car before turning in,” Talyn said, picking up the military-grade sensor they had found in the supply room. “You needn’t be there.”

  “In that case, I’ll see what Ari’s found.” Decker grabbed a chair and sat beside her.

  Redmon tapped the controls and image pairs replaced the video analysis.

  “Senior members of Envoy Harben’s staff,” she said.

  “No surprise there.”

  The first s
et vanished, and a new array appeared in its place.

  “This is the lieutenant governor of Caledonia, a retired admiral by the way; that’s the head of Wayland Enterprises, a major defense contractor, also a retired admiral; here we have the Honorable Raita Gunn, Caledonia’s junior senator.”

  “The Senate must be in recess again. It’s a wonder they have time to pass legislation, let alone debate it,” Decker remarked in a droll tone.

  “Democracy’s the worst system, except for every other one.”

  “Winston Churchill, I believe.” A new set of images appeared, and Decker’s eyebrows shot up. “Now it becomes interesting. That’s Lieutenant General Erasmus, the Fleet’s deputy chief of procurement. And the next one is Admiral Callandra, the chief of personnel.”

  Decker rattled off several more names, all of whom wore three or four stars.

  “A high-powered party with uniformed politicians on the guest list, along with defense contractors and real politicians?” Redmon asked. “I bet they happen often. It doesn’t mean half of the flag officers at HQ are Black Sword. Remember, I didn’t meet many members or suspected members above the rank of colonel or Navy captain.”

  “True. Although I’m willing to bet they exchange a lot of confidential information and favors over pricey drinks, which makes it just as questionable. However...” Decker gave her a half shrug and yawned. “I suppose that was my signal to hit the rack. If you see the face of anyone related to intelligence, counterintelligence or security, wake me.”

  “And what good would that do?” She asked with an arch smile. “Do you intend to rouse QD and carry out an impromptu kidnapping on general principles?”

  “Fine.” He climbed to his feet. “You can show me the rest of the guests in the morning.”

  “Wise choice. Goodnight, Zack.”

  He was still awake when Talyn slipped into her bedroll next to him.

  “Everything’s right with the car?” He asked in a soft voice.

  “As far as I can tell, the AI’s gone dormant. It shouldn’t respond to a query by the traffic control system.”

  “It occurs to me the car’s absence from the grid might trigger questions of its own when coupled with Wynt dropping out of sight.”