Dead Wrong

by Richard Phillips

  “That’s okay. Let her go about her business.”

  A scowl darkened Dolf’s pale features.

  “And if she’s dirty?”

  Returning to his seat, Altmann took a sip from his coffee cup and allowed himself a grin.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Levi Elias noted the receipt of the specially encrypted message from Janet Price, once again tagged “Top Secret, NSA Director’s Eyes Only.” The large message size meant that she had attached images, or possibly even video. Damn it. Levi had been the one who had brought the talented and deadly young CIA operative to Jonathan Riles’s attention. He was the reason the NSA had recruited her. Now, as far as Levi could tell, she’d been sent out on a mission where she was being denied one of the NSA’s most important resources: Levi’s analysis.

  Clenching his fists, Levi made a potentially career-ending decision. Dialing Admiral Riles’s admin, Levi started speaking as she picked up.

  “Fred, this is Levi. I need to see Admiral Riles right now.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s in a meeting with Dr. Kurtz and Dr. Jennings.”

  Levi felt his jaw muscles clench. “Tell him it’s absolutely critical that I see him right now. This won’t wait.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Frederica Barnes responded. “Hold, please.”

  A minute later, she spoke again. “Admiral Riles will see you now, in his office.”

  Levi hung up. Two minutes later he stepped into the NSA director’s office and closed the door behind him.

  “What’s this about, Levi?”

  “Sir, this is about Janet Price.”

  Admiral Riles’s gray eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

  Levi swallowed but continued. “I’ve noticed a number of the best NSA computing resources have been redirected from critical tasks and assigned new priorities. As with recent Janet Price activities, I have been denied knowledge of what those systems are now working on. I demanded this meeting because I want to know why I have been excluded from the inner circle on Janet’s current mission.”

  This time there was no doubt about the irritation that had crept into the admiral’s voice. “Demanded?”

  “Yes, sir. You know that I’m the best analyst you have. The fact that you placed me in my current position confirms that. Yet you have reassigned the NSA’s most important field operative to a mission in Bolivia that involves Tupac Inti and multiple neo-Nazi organizations, only to cut me out of the operation after I set up Janet’s Golden Dawn cover. That tells me a number of things.

  “This has nothing to do with my initial assumption that her mission is associated with fears that a free Tupac Inti might lead a native revolution that could topple a number of corrupt South American governments. This is about something else, something in which you don’t trust me to be involved. The only reason I can come up with is because I’m Jewish.”

  Now Riles’s eyes held real anger. “I’m not in the habit of justifying my operational decisions to subordinates, even one as important as you.”

  Levi’s gut cramped. This was it. “Sir, I’m not asking you to justify your decision. I’m asking you to change it. In the past, you’ve relied upon my skills and loyalty, including a recent operation that ensured our nation’s survival. If I’ve lost your trust at that level, then I’m here to submit my resignation.”

  Levi watched as the anger slowly drained from Admiral Riles’s face, replaced by a look of deep sadness. Levi felt his own mood darken. Apparently his gambit was about to be accepted. All he had to look forward to now was participating in the required human resources and security out-briefings and signing the required paperwork.

  Admiral Riles leaned back in his chair, and Levi took what might be his last look at the NSA director, framed by the view through those copper-infused black windows. God help him, but he loved this place.

  “Levi, I wanted to avoid this, but you’ve forced my hand. I’m going to give you what you’ve asked for and bring you in on this. You might not thank me for it.”

  As relief flooded his mind, Levi had to restrain himself from grinning. Not trusting his voice, he only nodded.

  Admiral Riles continued. “You’ve heard of the rumors of Adolf Hitler’s ties to the Thule Society?”

  “Yes, but it’s bullshit. The Thule Society disbanded in the mid-1920s. Even though many of its members joined the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, otherwise known as the Nazi Party, Hitler himself despised occultism.”

  “True. But some of his lieutenants maintained their fascination and used Hitler’s quest for priceless art and historical artifacts as an excuse to search for items of mythic power. As the allies closed in, their search became more and more desperate, like a dying prayer.”

  Levi snorted. “A complete waste of time and resources.”

  “Yes it was. That brings me to Klaus Barbie.”

  “I’m pretty sure the Butcher of Lyon never associated with the Thule Society or its followers,” Levi said. “He was a sadist whose only gods were pain and suffering.”

  “He had one other. Barbie was a true believer in the Nazi Party. During one of the brutal interrogations he conducted in Lyon, he learned of an object among the thousands in Hitler’s stolen art trove, one that had attracted the attention of three of the Führer’s top scientists—not because it held some mystic power, but because of the intricate symbols inscribed on its surface, symbols on rotating rings that could form a myriad of mathematical equations.”

  Seeing Levi’s confusion, Admiral Riles paused. “Let me show you something. Come around so you can see my monitor.”

  As Levi walked around the desk to stand by his boss’s chair, he saw a set of images tiled across the admiral’s thirty-inch display. All of the pictures showed a stunningly beautiful golden orb made up of concentric rings with detailed symbols etched into their surfaces. The orb sat atop a black cushion, and it had been photographed from all angles. In the last few photographs, the orb had been turned upside down to allow the bottom to be captured.

  Admiral Riles continued. “You’re looking at photographs of the object I mentioned. They were taken last night by Janet Price.”

  Levi found himself unable to take his eyes from the captured images. To think that last night Janet had held it in her hand boggled the mind.

  “Where? How?”

  “Conrad Altmann’s private office. Drs. Kurtz and Jennings managed to remotely bypass Altmann’s security measures. Janet did the rest.”

  “It’s beautiful, but I still don’t understand its significance. I’m assuming you don’t believe it has some sort of mystical power.”

  “Of course not. And that wasn’t what fascinated the German scientists. The mathematical equations formed by the symbols on the orb and its silver staff did that. Despite more than two years of study, they were unable to solve them.”

  “How old is the orb?”

  “The first references to the object come from a set of Incan stone carvings carbon-dated to the thirteenth century AD.”

  Levi found himself struggling to make sense of this revelation.

  “You’re telling me the German scientists couldn’t solve a set of equations from the thirteenth century?”

  “Yes. And although we didn’t have pictures of the orb, we did have complete images of the symbols carved into its silver staff. For the last three years, I’ve had some of our best systems continuously working on finding solutions for the fractal patterns that wind around its length.”

  Levi felt his anticipation rise as Admiral Riles paused.

  “And?”

  “And despite all of our advanced technology, we’ve come no closer than the Germans. We’re hopeful that by using these new images of the orb to generate a 3D model of the completed staff and feeding it to the quantum computer, it will find the solution.”

  Levi studied the images on the screen, feeling his fascination grow as he looked. A new question found its way to his lips.

&
nbsp; “The solution to what?”

  Admiral Riles leaned back in his chair and met Levi’s questioning gaze.

  “That is a very good question.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Jack needed sleep, but he didn’t want it. Sleep meant dreams, and lately his dreams had left him more exhausted than when he’d gone to sleep. He had two mutually exclusive cures for that need. Self-discipline and adrenaline.

  Today he chose adrenaline. As the morning sun began to burn off the mountain fog, Jack leaned the Honda Shadow motorcycle into curves so narrow and tight that they flooded his body with his drug of choice. The steep, densely-wooded cliff face on his left and the two-thousand foot drop on his right amplified the feeling a hundredfold.

  The unpaved, single-lane North Yungas Road, commonly referred to as the Bolivian Death Road, was generally regarded as the world’s most dangerous highway. Jack could have taken Highway 1 and then Highway 4 to Cochabamba and avoided the perilous mountain route, but where was the fun in that?

  Seeing an oncoming truck, Jack hugged the right edge, the Honda Shadow sending a cascade of small rocks and gravel over the precipice as he accelerated past the lumbering vehicle. The road pulled him forward along its twists and turns like an anaconda swallowing a rodent. Jack could no more fight the feeling than he could stop breathing.

  He knew his life should be flashing before his eyes, but it wasn’t. Janet Price had once accused him of having a death wish, but she was wrong. Jack hungered for life, especially the thrill he got out there on life’s edge, knowing full well that someday the edge would take him. But not today.

  Jack put the high Andes behind him, passed through the city of Cochabamba, and rode Highway 7 to Santa Cruz. By the time he reached his rental house, afternoon rain clouds hid the sun, leaving the muggy air heavy with portents of the coming storm. Jack dropped the kickstand, stepped off the black motorcycle, and removed his helmet, feeling the first fat raindrops spatter his face.

  As he retrieved the house key from his pocket and reached for the doorknob, a feeling of wrongness caused him to set his helmet on the doorstep and shift his keys to his left hand. Pausing to listen, Jack heard only the swish of branches in the gathering wind, the patter of rain, and the rumble of distant thunder. It was the familiar scent of danger that caused him to shift his H&K from its holster to his jacket pocket as he unlocked the door with his left hand. Vaguely familiar, like an unremembered dream, the feeling pulled him forward.

  With his right hand gripping the pistol, Jack pushed open the door. The sight of Janet Price, relaxing on his ragged couch, froze him in his tracks. As her eyes met his, an easy smile parted her lovely lips.

  “Hello, Jack. Did you miss me?”

  CHAPTER 37

  “Hello, Jack. Did you miss me?”

  Janet looked into Jack’s surprised face and was rewarded by a fleeting look that answered her question in the affirmative. Then he picked up his helmet and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. When he turned back toward her, she saw him take his gun from his leather jacket’s right pocket and return it to its shoulder holster.

  Jack set his motorcycle helmet on the kitchen table and then walked over and sat down opposite her on the couch, his eyes glassy and tired.

  Janet laughed. “Not exactly what I expected, Jack. Anger, yes. Bewilderment, maybe. Wild-eyed joy, hopefully. Collapsing on the couch next to me, not so much.”

  Jack managed a thin smile. “Actually, you should be flattered.”

  “Really?”

  “I think so. Sort of like an old married couple.”

  “Such a smooth talker. You’re sweeping me right off my feet.”

  Then, to her utter amazement, Jack Gregory closed his eyes, took one deep breath, and fell sound asleep.

  CHAPTER 38

  It was night when the smell of pork chops frying on the stove brought Jack back to consciousness. For the first time in recent memory, he’d slept a peaceful and dreamless sleep. As he looked at the back of the deadly NSA agent cooking dinner on the far side of the room, he experienced a brief déjà vu moment that passed before he could make the mental connection.

  Hearing him move, Janet glanced back over her shoulder.

  “Good, you’re awake. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved,” Jack said, stretching and rising to his feet.

  “It’s nothing fancy—just chops and mashed potatoes.”

  “Smells great. Where’d you get the food?”

  “I made a quick run to the market. Just the basics.”

  Janet served her own plate and took a seat at the kitchen table. Jack followed her example.

  “How did you find me?”

  Janet cut into her pork chop with knife and fork. “Eat first. Then we’ll talk.”

  Feeling his stomach growl, Jack didn’t argue.

  Janet finished her meal before he did, and then sat and watched as Jack cleaned his second helping from his plate. When Jack finally pushed back from his plate and raised his eyes to meet Janet’s, it seemed a shame that he was about to spoil the mood.

  “Thank you. Best meal I’ve had in quite some time.”

  Janet smiled, although Jack thought he detected a sharp edge that hinted at the conversation to come.

  He repeated his earlier question. “How did you find me?”

  “Apparently, you’ve forgotten whom I work for.”

  “I’ve taken the standard precautions, wiped the laptop, advanced drive encryption, spoofed satellite uplink with anonymous Internet access—the works.”

  “A few months ago, that would have done the trick.”

  “But not now.”

  “The NSA continues to evolve. You have no idea what the organization is on the verge of accomplishing.”

  Jack felt a scowl tighten his face. “Sounds wonderful.”

  “You may be glad I found you.”

  “Why don’t I get that warm, fuzzy feeling?”

  Janet stood and walked over to sit on the couch. Leaving the dishes on the table, Jack moved to sit opposite her.

  The ceiling’s bare lightbulb fought to push back the shadows that had crept in near the room’s corners, but it was a poor match for the bright flashes of lightning outside. As thunder shook the house, it began to rain much harder than before, the wind driving the fat drops hard enough to rattle the glass pane in its frame.

  Jack continued to press her. “What are you doing with the neo-Nazis? And how is Tupac Inti involved?”

  “Admiral Riles hasn’t authorized me to answer that, but I’m going to anyway.”

  Her statement didn’t surprise Jack. Since he’d first met Janet Price, he’d come to know that in the field she made her own operational assessments and acted on those judgments as she saw fit, regardless of the risk.

  “Tupac Inti contacted the NSA first. He volunteered for this mission.”

  “You’re trying to tell me that Tupac works for the NSA?”

  “No. I’m saying that, in this specific instance, Tupac’s goals aligned with those of Admiral Riles.”

  Jack looked at her as he analyzed her words. The way Janet had phrased her response struck an odd chord.

  “You say that as if Admiral Riles is acting outside of his role as NSA director.”

  Janet shook her head. “Riles and the NSA are synonymous. He seeks out cyber-threats to our national security and neutralizes them.”

  “Which is how he justifies a field operative like you?”

  “After 9/11, in addition to the Patriot Act, a number of presidential findings were issued to provide the United States government’s intelligence agencies greater flexibility in identifying and combatting our nation’s enemies. Admiral Riles believes one of those findings provides the NSA director with the authority to form an operational team that can confirm and augment electronic intelligence. As you know, I’m part of that team.”

  “And President Harris is fine with Admiral Riles’s interpretation?”

  “Occasionally, it�
��s the job of our president’s key subordinates to provide him with plausible deniability.”

  Jack laughed. “So what are you trying to tell me? That Tupac Inti volunteered to be locked up in Palmasola prison for a year and a half? That he wanted to be captured by the neo-Nazis?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “What’s your part? Why did Riles send you to Bolivia?”

  “Because you came charging in to screw up his operation.”

  “Just doing the job I was hired to do.”

  “Who hired you?”

  “You’re NSA. You tell me.”

  Jack watched as the small muscles tightened at the corners of Janet’s eyes.

  “Damn it, Jack. Not everything is a contest.”

  “Isn’t it? Isn’t that what brought you here? To take me out of the game?”

  “This isn’t your game, Jack. Not unless you want it to be.”

  As he looked at Janet, her expression changed so subtly that Jack almost thought he imagined it. Staring at this amazing woman, he felt the old fire stir within. Damn, she was good.

  Trying to keep the heat from his eyes, Jack focused on his response.

  “I told you in Crete that I’m not interested in working for the NSA.”

  “Actually, you told me that I wouldn’t want you anywhere around me.”

  “You should have listened.”

  “Admiral Riles’s offer still stands.”

  “And I’m still not interested. Besides, I’m on a job.”

  Janet paused in her staccato delivery, her contact-blue eyes searching his face like synthetic aperture radar penetrating dense rainforest canopy.

  “Tupac doesn’t want to be rescued.”

  “That’s funny, considering he came along willingly when I busted him out of Palmasola. How do you explain that?”

  Janet shrugged. “I can’t. But let me ask you something. When we took Tupac away from you, he was just sitting in a stream bed under a deadfall, just like he was waiting for us. Why would he do that?”

  “Because I told him to stay put.”