by S L Shelton
Wolf stood, still pointing the silenced pistol at Gallow’s head. “It’s moot now. I have an unrealistic timeline and a handicap that’s about to get worse.”
“Give me time,” Nance said, anxiety in his voice rising more. “With the right facilities and your help we can retrain Scott’s brain to manage his autonomic functions…but not if you go out to slay dragons.”
Wolf backed toward the door, touching the bandage on his forehead with steady fingers. “Sorry, Doc. That’s just not gonna happen.” He reached for the doorknob.
“You’re willing to allow Scott to die for this mission?” Nance asked.
Wolf’s lip curled involuntarily, a trait of Scott’s that slipped free under the stress—or maybe the Ambux had already started to dissolve the barrier between them. “I am doing what Scott set out to do. I came to you so he could reseat himself. You are the one who has killed Scott.”
Nance looked at the floor, sincere shame and regret on his face. Wolf opened the door.
“Wait,” Nance said. “I know something that may be useful to you.”
Wolf stopped midturn and looked back. “What?”
“The Lance Program I told you about…”
Wolf nodded. “I think I’ve met one of those already,” he said, pointing to the wound on his head with the barrel of his pistol, or rather Gallow’s pistol.
“There’s a new one that’s been reactivated.”
Wolf emulated one of Scott’s puzzled look expressions. “Reactivated?”
Nance took a step closer. “That’s the odd thing. I think I told you the Lance protocols happen in two stages… The Lance Optimization Transgenic, and then the enhancement treatment.”
Wolf nodded. “I remember. The LOT conditioning preps the host’s DNA for the Lance markers so the RNA interference has matched receptors for targeting. A designer cocktail of genetic rewrites.”
“Right. Well, there was a protocol…a LOT catalog number that was shelved before we had a chance to deliver the matching Lance dose. LOT 44.”
“So?”
“So, the DIA Special Projects unit sent a new DNA sample to remap 44 against.”
Wolf thought for a second, then looked up, confused. “I don’t understand the significance.”
“They’ve never reused a LOT catalog number before. They’ve always just added a new one. The only reason they’d have to reuse an existing number and call it a maintenance remapping is if they wanted to hide it on the books.”
“So, they have a Lance candidate that they don’t want anyone to know they have?”
Nance nodded. “A female.”
Wolf nodded. “Anything else? A name? A photo?”
Nance shook his head. “All I know is that she has blue eyes. The marker for that is on one of the key sequences we use to map the transgenics…part of the enhanced vision component.”
Wolf nodded. “Have you delivered it yet?” He hoped the answer would be “no”. It would be so much easier to tamper with the treatment and undermine the asset.
“Yes. Two weeks ago.”
Wolf nodded, disappointed. “I’ll keep an eye out for her.”
“They have also added a large number of subjects to the Jagger program.”
That was a concern. Jaggers had proven to be significant threats. “Increased by how many?”
“They’ve received more than thirty doses,” Nance replied.
“How much of an increase is that?”
“They only had forty over the past three years.”
Wolf looked down at the floor, letting the information fill a new flowchart with data. “Why would they order that many Jagger units when Lance produces a stronger asset?”
“Jagger has almost a hundred percent survival rate, and no special genome mapping is required. Lance only has a one in ten survival rate.”
“These people aren’t known for being sensitive about losses,” Wolf said. “Why wouldn’t they just recruit three hundred and play the numbers?”
Nance shrugged. “I can’t be certain, but I do know that the Jagger enhancements create nearly unquestioning assets… Lances are a lot more freethinking. That might be a problem for them.”
Neither the significance of the LOT number nor the Jagger order oddity made any sense. But Wolf had to get moving. His entire plan had to be reworked. He couldn’t do that while holding Scott at bay and trying to scan his surroundings for threats. He needed to get to the safe house.
“Do me a favor,” Wolf said. “If your funding falls apart when I burn Combine to the ground, burn your research with it.”
Nance nodded reluctantly.
Wolf turned to leave once more.
“Scott,” Nance said.
Wolf stopped with one foot out the door.
“If you’re in there, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you any more than I did,” Nance said, his voice carrying audible grief. “I should have done more for you, and I regret that I didn’t.”
Wolf pulled the door closed as he walked out, touching his finger to the wound on his head. The incision had been closed with two small butterfly bandages, leaving only a small raised area over the bullet’s entry point—an easy wound to hide under the hood of his jacket.
At least he didn’t have to open a golf ball sized hole to remove it.
On his way toward the loading dock, he detoured down the hallway Scott’s mother resided on. He stopped at her open door and peered in. She was awake and gazing out the window. He watched her for a moment and noted her expression—relaxed, calm, contented. He was about to depart when she turned her head toward him.
“Hank?” she said, grinning. “What are you doing lurking in the hallway?”
She always mistook Scott for his father since the accident. They did look remarkably alike.
“I just stopped by on the way to work to say hi.”
He stepped into the room and his mother flinched away as if a monster had just materialized in front of her.
“You.” Her voice was cold and full of accusation.
“Me?”
She shook her head. “I know the difference between my husband and his devil.”
Wolf took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” He turned and walked out.
“You better not get my boy hurt,” she said, her voice raised. “He’s my only son, and I couldn’t live if something happened to him.”
Wolf stopped and looked back. Her face drew down in hard, dark anger, piercing him to his core and stirring Scott’s awareness from his dark place like a restless serpent adjusting himself in his burrow.
He had no comforting words for her, no platitudes to reassure her. He just nodded and walked away.
As Wolf crossed out of the parking area and scaled the wall to the outside world, he mentally mapped his way forward. Leesburg to Arlington with no cameras. Potomac River to Occoqun, no cameras. It had become so hard to travel without detection. They had all been lucky so far, and no one had slipped up on their communications protocols. But it was just luck, and they were well past the point that luck should have failed them.
The W&OD trail was only lightly traveled that morning. The bikers and joggers passed Wolf infrequently as he made his way toward Fairfax. Just outside of Leesburg, the trail wound through a small development and passed a convenience store. Outside, a line of unlocked bikes sat leaning against the wall.
Wolf jogged by, then turned around and returned to the side of the building once clear of the store’s front window. He looked around the corner to be sure no one was near, then grabbed the closest bicycle and mounted it.
As he rode away, he pulled out his phone and dialed on the secure call app.
“Freestyle Diving Supplies,” came the answer. It was Seifert’s voice.
“I’m running behind schedule,” Wolf said looking over his shoulder to see if the bike’s owner had appeared yet—he had not. “I’m on my way, but you’ll have to get John to his terminal if he’s going to make his flight.�
��
“Terminal?! Flight?”
“In the blue backpack, in the side pocket, are a ticket, travel ID and passport, and five thousand each of Euros and Dollars.”
Wolf heard John asking for the phone in the background. “What’s going on?” he asked after getting the phone.
“The team and I are taking military transport to Europe. But that won’t work for you. I booked you a business class seat on a flight to Rome.”
“Why Rome?”
“Because that flight is leaving in the time frame I need you in southern Europe.”
“You could have told me this earlier,” John said, agitation creeping into his voice.
“Please, John…I had a list of thirteen flights that get you within a day’s travel of the South of France,” Wolf said, not believing for a second that his plea would derail John’s complaining, but he worked in all the key voice stresses to make it sound sincere. “In the time it’ll take me to get back to the rally point, gear up, and get out of the country with the SEALs, the flight to Rome gets you in position with time to spare.”
There was a brief delay in John’s reply. “Where am I going after I land?”
Wow. That worked. “I need you to set up a staging area for us in the South of France. Can you handle that?”
Wolf’s hope was that the challenge would bring renewed vigor to John’s level of game play. Maybe even help replace some of his lost confidence.
“Yeah,” John said, though hesitation lingered in his tone. “I can manage.”
“Good. You should be set with cash, so don’t skimp on the creature comforts,” Wolf replied. “I know it’s going to be physically stressing to get around, so splurge on yourself with meals and hotels.”
“I’ll be fine. I was a SEAL… I think I’ll be able to handle a holiday in southern Europe.”
“Good, because you’re going to have to set up our first safe house for us…Lyon would be good.”
John laughed. “In a high-rise with no elevator, I’m guessing.”
“Of course…and while you’re at it, go ahead and scrounge some basic surveillance stuff.”
John chuckled again. “Want a hot tub and a waterbed while I’m at it?”
“A laser mic, remote monitors, and a hand full of trace tags should be good enough. No waterbed… I get seasick.”
“Okay. I know just where to find what you’re looking for.”
“I figured you would.”
“See you in Europe. Here’s Seifert.”
Wolf looked behind him again and had lost sight of the store. It was unlikely his theft would be detected in time to do anything about it.
“Yeah,” Seifert said.
“Two blocks from the safe house there’s a green Subaru wagon. The keys are under the passenger side rear door in a magnetic box.”
“Roger that.”
“Drop John at the Crystal City metro station. Don’t go in with him. Hat and sunglasses at all times, and avoid cameras like the plague,” Wolf said, pedaling faster. “Your beard should hide your cheekbones enough that facial recognition software won’t pick up a pattern.”
“Got it. What then?”
“We’ll meet you at Fast Eddies outside of Joint Base Andrews…do you know it?”
“No, but I can find it. What then?”
“I’ll let you know when we get there,” Wolf said. “You, Mac and Hawkins pack a duffel for deployment and one for me so we can leave as soon as I get there. Sanitized uniforms, no name tape.”
“Roger. Weapons?”
“TSOP weapons only. Nothing that wouldn’t be authorized on an Air Force transport.”
“Okay, got it…anything else?” Seifert asked.
“That’s it. I’ll see you when we get to Fast Eddies.”
“Roger. Later, man.”
Wolf ended the call and put his phone in the handle bar pouch. Inside he found a half-eaten protein bar. He pulled it out and finished it.
After stuffing the wrapper back in the bag, he leaned down and increased his speed, pumping harder to reach the end of the trail on time. It would be close. Time was ticking down on so many things and he could feel the end racing toward him. He hoped there was enough of it left to finish everything.
He reflected on Nance's words and the words of Scott’s mother. Nance had apologized, and Scott’s mother had warned Wolf, though it was clear she thought it was her husband’s devil she had addressed.
“I know it was my job to watch over you,” he whispered inwardly to Scott, sleeping his dreamless sleep. “I failed you on so many levels. But before we’re done, I promise I will rebalance your life or die…” he chuckled. “—or rather, kill us both trying.”
**
7:15 p.m. —Safe house, Occoquan Virginia
WOLF maneuvered the small outboard boat into a slip at the safe house. The sun, though still casting orange light in the western sky, had set. It had been easier to find a boat and steal it than he had planned, so he was half an hour ahead of his scheduled arrival. Avoiding cameras slowed movement through cities, but the W&OD trail had been relatively free of the annoyance. Arlington had proven harder to navigate.
He dialed Mac’s throwaway phone as he tied up the boat at the dock.
“Freestyle Diving,” Mac answered.
“I’m at the dock tying up. I’ll be up there in a minute.”
“Roger.”
The call ended and Wolf walked up the long wooden staircase to the house. Mac opened the door as he arrived at the threshold.
“A new hole in your head? You get shot again?”
“Everything packed and ready to go?” Wolf asked, ignoring the fun banter.
Mac leaned out the door and looked around quickly before closing it. “Okay, yeah. Deployment packs and TSOP weapons and ammo. Already loaded in the car.”
Wolf nodded and went into the kitchen. “Where’s Hawkins?”
“Catching some rack in the back,” Mac said as Wolf took a package of meat from the refrigerator. “His feelings were a little bruised.”
“Why?”
Hawkins appeared then, walking out of the back hallway. His head was down, and his shoulders slouched as if shame were crushing him.
Wolf looked at Mac. “What happened?”
Mac threw a scowl at Hawkins. “Just tell him.”
Hawkins looked up but couldn’t meet Wolf’s glare and dropped his chin again. “It was a short call. Less than three minutes.”
Wolf’s eyes opened wide. “What did you do?”
“She hasn’t heard from me in two months, and I’m getting ready to fly to Europe. I don’t know when or if I’ll see her again.”
Wolf dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Tell me you used a burn phone.”
Hawkins nodded enthusiastically. “I did. It was one of the clean phones from the COM chest. Never been used before.”
“And you pulled the SIM and battery when you were done?”
He dropped his head again. Wolf stepped toward him, his hand extended. “Where is it?!”
“It’s done now,” Mac said, putting a restraining hand on Wolf’s shoulder. “But it was me who did it, and it was a couple of hours after he made the call.”
Wolf looked at Mac. “How long ago?”
“About two hours ago,” Mac said. “I would have cleared us out, but…” He nodded toward the front door. “I didn’t want to leave you stranded.”
“I turned it off,” Hawkins said, pleading. “As soon as I finished the call, I turned it off.”
Wolf shook his head. “You know better. You’ve been briefed multiple times—”
“I already gave him the lecture,” Mac said. “He didn’t want to be responsible for using up a SIM. We only had three left.”
Wolf sighed and walked to the pile of weapons in the center of the living room floor that were waiting to be dumped in the river. “Body armor, now,” he said, slapping a magazine into one of the M4s. “Get the last of the gear and I’ll—”
He in
voluntarily turned his head toward the driveway. “Go now.” The calm in his voice was purely mechanical. Their luck had just run out.
“Oh shit.” Mac rushed to pull his body armor on and looked at Hawkins. “Suit up, boy. It’s about to get real.”
Hawkins rushed to the center of the living room to grab a weapon.
Wolf felt it before there was any sound. “Here it comes,” he said quietly.
As Mac raised his rifle in the direction that Wolf faced, the bay window at the front of the house exploded inward. An SUV plowed through the living room toward them.
They dove aside, but it wasn’t until Wolf and the other two had been separated by the vehicle that he realized it was a diversion. “Ignore the SUV!”
Over the screaming of the engine, and debris crashing around them, Mac whipped his rifle around toward the back of the house as a man in black combat fatigues burst through the back door. With two silenced pistols the intruder peppered the SEALs with gunfire as he entered, sidestepping toward the cover of his SUV.
The attacker dove for the rear of the SUV, but not before Wolf saw both Hawkins and Mac fall. Armor-piercing, Wolf realized.
From the floor, Mac kept firing. “I’m hit!” he called out.
“Covering,” Wolf shouted.
A rise of tiny hairs on Wolf’s neck turned his attention to the rear as he fired on the attacker. In a burst of splinters and shards of glass, a second attacker entered the house through the front door.
“My six!” Wolf yelled, sliding belly first over the hood of the SUV.
Mac swung his rifle around and fired as he tried to pull himself to better cover, dragging Hawkins by the shoulder.
Hawkins looked bad—the side of his face was dark with blood, and his hand didn’t fully close on the pistol grip of his rifle. Nonetheless, he continued to fire.
Wolf dropped to the floor on the other side of the still screaming engine of the SUV, firing through every step and into his roll.
The other attacker broke from his cover behind the SUV as Wolf charged the rear of the vehicle, attempting to pin the attacker. Despite Wolf’s constant firing, the black-clad assailant drove forward.
Unlike Wolf and the SEALs, the body armor on the enemy was stopping rounds. Wolf dove to the floor and slid forward, firing up into the chin as he closed. The man’s arms went limp, falling to his sides before crumpling on top of Wolf.
