Surveillance (Ghost Targets Book 1)

by Aaron Pogue

"It's worse than that. Ghoster is genuinely scared of it. It's packing false identities in so densely that it's threatening to overload Hathor. Or something like that, I don't get all the technical details."

  Martin frowned, his eyebrows meeting over his nose as he tried to picture what she had described. "I don't think I understand. Can't you just go in and pick out the legitimate identity to find your man?"

  "No, he's been ghosted." She pulled out her handheld, but remembered that he had disabled it. She dropped it on the table and said, "Look, I got in HaRRE on the day the crime was discovered, I saw the moment before the killer stepped off the elevator into the office, and there was no one there. The database had already been scrubbed. But then, on top of that, the lights just went out, total blackout within HaRRE, and it's growing in time and space. Ghoster thought maybe you—" she cut herself off as he winced, and started over, "maybe whoever cleaned the database triggered some sort of bug in the recorder software."

  Martin shook his head. "That software has been running for ages. It's on billions of machines around the world and has been for years." He frowned, bitterness in his voice. "And they've been tampering with the archive from day one. I can't imagine something that would do what you're describing just happening now. There's a lot of money resting on the fidelity of those recordings."

  "The way Ghoster tells it, our whole society is built on it."

  "Well, yes." Martin shrugged. "The board doesn't care about our society nearly as much as the sales numbers, though."

  "I can show you," she said. She took a deep breath, and let it out. "Mr. Door—" She cut herself off, and met his eyes. "May I call you Martin?"

  "Please."

  "Okay. Martin." She saw an opportunity. "I tried to tell Ghoster that our only shot at solving this—at bringing justice to your niece's killer—is to get back to Ghost Targets, and get the rest of the team helping. I'm sorry to say it, but I just don't have the know-how yet. But my boss does. If you'll just come with me—" His look was enough to tell her he had no intention of doing that, but she leaned forward and kept him from tearing his eyes away. "Martin, if nothing else, we have authority. You have the technical skills. Ghoster has already said he can't tackle this. If you will come to DC with me, we will get to the bottom of it. All of us working together."

  He bit his lower lip. "Show me," he said. When she looked blank, he said, "Hathor, unlock Katie's headset and handheld." Then he met her eyes. "I'm trusting you."

  "I understand," she said. When she tried to load the case file, though, she got an access error. She held up a finger, "Hathor, connect me to Craig. Craig, share my case file to my handheld."

  The simulated voice answered her, "That action is prohibited. You're in an unsecurable public place. Apologies."

  She frowned, and said, "Hathor, connect me to Rick—"

  Martin cut her off. "Hathor, no. Lock Katie." When her eyes flashed at him, he shrugged. "I'm sorry. I don't trust you that much, yet."

  "I'm trying to help you."

  He considered her for a moment, then said, "I believe you. I do." He sighed, and once again looked exhausted. "Hathor, I need travel arrangements for Katie and me to DC within the hour. Have a car waiting for us at the airport. We're going to FBI headquarters. Return." He didn't meet Katie's eyes.

  After a moment she said, "So that's it then."

  He nodded, still looking away. "I guess it is."

  9. FBI Headquarters

  Their plane touched down in DC at nine-fifteen, but Martin seemed anxious to get to work. Katie had no objection. Chances were good Rick would still be there, and if he wasn't, she could at least show Martin the HaRRE footage. As tender as his emotions were proving, it might help to get that out of the way before he had to meet the boss. Either way, she was ready to move, so a few minutes before ten o'clock they stepped off the elevator onto her level. And Martin would get his time for grief, she saw, because the lights for the floor came on as they approached the frosted glass doors.

  Martin whistled. "Rick has done well for himself," he said. "You've got a class operation here."

  "Just wait until you see our conference table," she said. "Craig, let us in and show my case file on my desk." The doors flew open, and the two walked into the empty office. She turned back to Martin. "I'd still like an answer, if you're willing to give it. Why does Hathor insist you're in Buenos Aires?"

  He shrugged. "Another of Velez's ideas. He was obsessed with privacy, so he made us doppelgangers to roam the streets of Buenos Aires. It's a pretty clever program, random enough that it looks realistic." He paused, and looked around the room. "How smart is your boss?"

  "What do you mean?"

  He didn't answer right away. Then he said, "Hathor, what's going on?" He looked at Katie, and his eyes narrowed. She saw a flash of emotions—anger, betrayal, and panic clearest among them—and he moved with surprising speed as he darted back toward the office doors, but they didn't budge when he pressed against them.

  She frowned, uncomprehending, but he didn't seem in a mood for reasoning. She said, "Craig, open the doors for my guest."

  Craig answered immediately. "That action is prohibited. Explanation unavailable."

  Martin wheeled on her, fire in his eyes. "What are you trying to do to me? I've done nothing!"

  "I've done nothing," she said. "I don't know what's going on."

  "Shut up. Shush." He waved her to silence, and tilted his head listening to his headset. After a moment he said, "Details to my handheld," and dug out that ancient, battered handheld she had taken from him earlier. It looked like one her dad might have used. He scanned it quickly, shaking his head, and said, "Oh, this is not good."

  Katie said, "What?" She was starting to feel panicky herself. Martin didn't answer her. "Craig, open the doors." But she only got the same error message. She realized for the first time that the layout of the floor was one big trap. There was only one way in or out, and that was through three-inch thick, beautifully-frosted and probably bullet-proof glass doors. She decided if she didn't get an answer soon, she was going to test that last theory. "Hathor, connect me to Rick—"

  Once again Martin cut her off, this time rolling his eyes. "That's not going to do you any good," he said. Two tones later, he was proven right. Rick wouldn't take her call. She left a message, and tried for building security, but she got no answer there, either.

  "Hathor, connect me to the building receptionist," she said, trying everything she could think of, but Martin finally looked up with exasperation in his eyes.

  "Could you be quiet, please?" He tapped several controls on his handheld and shook his head. "You don't have access to anything right now. Within this scenario, they were smart enough to realize that they probably can't trust you."

  "Me? What did I ever do?"

  "Just—wait. Okay?" He stepped away from the front doors and looked around, his eyes lingering on the big glass windows overlooking the sparkling city. He went into the conference room, and ducked out of sight. When she followed him in, he had his eyes closed and he was talking into his headset like a man deep in prayer.

  It sounded like gibberish to Katie. "Rick is get ID Rick Goodall, Department Head, FBI Ghost Targets. Display ID details to my handheld. Stream is get audio stream using Rick. Do duplicate stream to my headset using background is true, no input is true. Done." He waited for a moment, listening and nodding. Then he frowned, thinking, and finally shook his head. "Hathor, reroute all vehicles heading here to, umm, the airport." He listened for a moment longer, then said, "Say something." He waited, then opened his eyes and looked at Katie, impatient. "Say something."

  "Oh!" she said. "What?"

  His eyes narrowed, and he said, "Hathor, lock out Katie's headset." Then he asked her point-blank. "Have you led me into a trap?" When she didn't answer, he growled. "Did you do this on purpose?"

  "Do what?" she shouted. "No."

  He nodded and closed his eyes. "Good news for me, bad for you," he said. "They're listening to y
ou—"

  "Who?"

  He took a deep breath, clearly impatient. "Your office is a ghost trap. It makes sense. If I'd thought of it before—and I should have—I probably could have detected it remotely. I trusted you, though." He sighed. "Anybody without a solid ID walks in here, the whole floor goes into lockdown and an alarm sounds on your boss's headset. There's six agents on their way here, right now."

  "So—"

  "They were listening to your headset, too. That's the only reason I trust you at all. You're new, but you could have known about this. But I checked, and they were listening and they weren't talking, so you're not getting coached. Sounds like they don't trust you." He stopped and held up a finger, listening. Then he glanced down at his handheld and cursed. "Your boss is a smart man."

  He watched his handheld for a moment, then continued. "He's not coming directly here. Probably routed to one of the buildings next door, but I don't know for sure. Hathor...never mind. Crap! I don't know how to get to his car. Hathor, coding. Get driver using Rick." He shook his head, probably at an error message, and spoke over it. "Get driver ID using Rick. Get driver by passenger using Rick. Get vehicle—no. Done. Argh!" He jumped to his feet, looking around in a panic. "He's getting closer. Katie, he's mad."

  Katie said, "Calm down. I'll talk to him when he gets here—"

  "No," he said, listening to an audio stream she couldn't hear. "He's not going to listen. You brought Jeremy here, and now you brought me here, and he thinks you're trying to bring down the department." He shuddered. "You wouldn't believe the language he's using."

  "But why? All I've done—"

  He caught her by the shoulders, his nose an inch from hers, and screamed, "I don't know, Katie. But he's coming in hot. He just learned that I rerouted the other agents, and he responded with a shoot-to-kill order. Got it? He thinks we're dangerous."

  "No...."

  "Hathor, coding. Do duplicate stream to Katie's headset using background is true, no input is true. Done."

  She heard Rick, then, his familiar bluff voice. He didn't sound cheerful, but he didn't really sound angry, either, as he had when she brought Ghoster in. He sounded...determined. "Reroute to checkpoint delta. Jesus, guys, you should've done that in the first place. Elevators are locked until I get there. If any of you get there first, don't try moving without me."

  "What about Katie?" Reed said, and Katie held her breath.

  Rick answered right away. "She killed her audio feed, Reed. That was the last straw. She's rogue, and whoever she's with is trouble. You have your orders."

  "No!" she shouted. "No, I'm here! Craig, connect me to Rick. Hathor, connect me to Rick!"

  It didn't work, Martin's handiwork cutting her off, but she heard Reed speak up. "Dammit, Rick, you need to think this through."

  Katie stopped, astonished. Reed? Reed was standing up for her.

  Rick's answer was a low growl. "Careful, Reed."

  "No, Rick. You're the one who needs to be careful. I don't know what's gotten into you, but you're running way too hot on this. There's no way Katie—"

  "She's a mole, Reed."

  "She's not a mole! She's not a rogue. She's just a dumbass rookie who didn't know any better, and you're out of line."

  "That's it," Rick said, that same calm in his voice. "You're relieved, Reed. Go home. Everyone else, I'm ninety seconds from checkpoint delta. Guns hot."

  Katie's eyes snapped toward the elevators, as though he were already there, and she shouted, "No! Martin!"

  Martin wasn't paying attention to the audio, or Katie's shouts. As soon as he'd shared the audio with her he had turned away, looking around again with his head swinging wildly. Now he was reading over location details for the building on his handheld. He tapped the screen and said, "Got it." When he looked up, he saw the fear and the fury in Katie's eyes. "What?"

  "What? They think I'm rogue!" Katie said. "Just unlock my headset. I can sort this out."

  "Can't." Martin shook his head. "He's coming here to kill me. You heard him, Katie. If I gave you voice, he'd maybe tell them not to shoot you, but there's no way in hell you could talk him out of putting a bullet in me."

  "I can take you down," she said, and she didn't know if she was floating an idea or threatening, but it didn't matter. "If I have you under control when they come through those doors, if I can report that I've restrained you—"

  "Then I go to prison, Katie. For the rest of my life. There's no Hathor record to clear my name. Your word wouldn't matter once a judge saw my doppelgangers roaming the world. I'd be in prison for the rest of my life, and," he stopped and caught her eye to make sure she picked up on his point, "I wouldn't have access to the tools I would need to find Janeane's killer." Before she could argue, he shook his head. "Not for the stuff they'd pin on me. No way in the world they'd give me command access to Hathor."

  "So—"

  "So we have to get out of here." He pushed himself to his feet. "If we can just get out of this building, I'm gone. I'll reconnect you to Rick, you can arrange a surrender and once they hear your story, you're in the clear. I'll make sure Hathor has the information you would need to clear you. But first we have to get out, and I have an idea." He tapped his handheld again. "If we can trigger a fire alarm, it should let us out."

  Rick spoke into their ears, "I'm here," he said, loud and clear, and they both jumped. "Where are you guys?"

  "Minutes out."

  "Arriving now."

  "Driver says six."

  Katie and Martin stood frozen for three heartbeats, listening, and then Reed's voice came through, chillingly quiet. "Don't do this, Rick."

  Rick grunted in response. "Screw it," he said. "I'm going in. You guys catch up."

  Martin's eyes shot wide, then he ran out into the bullpen, rapidly scanning the walls, spinning in circles like a little kid. "Nothing," he said. To Katie, frantic, "Do you have a lighter? No, why would you? That's how they used to do it, though. Lighter under the sprinklers." He stopped, and for a moment she thought he had calmed down, then he started hopping up and down, bouncing on his toes and screaming, "Fire! Fire! Help, fire!" as loud as he could.

  She followed him out of the conference room and walked past him. Then she scanned the windows, drew her weapon, and fired three shots through the window directly above her desk. The gunfire thundered in the room and Martin dove to the ground, hands covering his neck and head. The glass shattered, exploding down in a rain of shards, and Katie rushed to the window. She leaned out, and saw the telltale markings of an emergency escape, pinhole-sized jets perforating the building's facade in a horizontal line just below the window. She said, "Craig, deploy emergency escape," but nothing happened. "Building receptionist, deploy emergency escape." Still nothing. She turned to Martin. "Do you think the sensor will work during a lockdown?"

  He nodded. "Has to," he said. "This place is not registered as a holding facility, so they'd be breaking so many laws if they deactivated emergency mechanisms for a private—"

  "Then we have to jump." He said something, probably in objection, but all she heard was Rick announcing he was in the elevator. For a moment she thought about trying to fight him at the door, to take him down, but she knew she wasn't prepared to fire on him, and from the sound of it he wouldn't even hesitate. She climbed up onto her desk, took a deep breath, and then stepped out through the window.

  She fell. The sensors outside her window didn't trigger, or the emergency escape really was locked out, but she plummeted down through the chill, dark night, too terrified to scream. It lasted for just a heartbeat, until she saw the windows of the floor below flash past, and then she landed in a bag that ripped upward to close over her head.

  She'd never used an emergency escape before, so the sensation was unexpected and awful. Intense claustrophobia welled up inside her, and she scrabbled against the fine, almost invisible net that held her. It wasn't necessary, though, because the net broke an instant later, dropping her lightly past the windows another floor lowe
r down, where another nanofiber net shot out of the wall to wrap around her. This time she had time to see it deploy, spiderweb threads blasting out of thousands of tiny jets in the wall, out and up and twisting around her as she drew level with the jets, clinging for just long enough to slow her fall before the web tore free of the wall. After that first free fall, the rest of the way wouldn't be nearly as frightening. The nets would pass her along, from one to the next, gently down to the ground.

  She had almost calmed herself with the thought, just as the second net released her, when she heard a terrified scream above. She twisted her neck and just had time to recognize Martin plummeting past the floor above before the net below fired. As it twisted up to catch her, some of the fibers spun around Martin, too, but not all of them. She grabbed his wrist with her right arm but her left was already pinned under her in the cocoon, and he was falling too fast. He fell against her hard, slamming her back against the building, and then tore free of her grip just before the net broke underneath her. At the next floor he was the one caught in the net, and she landed with a thud on top of him. This time the net caught them both, and the next was enough to slow them to a safe descent together. The pain and fear in Martin's eyes took a moment to subside, but as the next net broke, he wrapped his arms around her and they fell together the rest of the way to the ground.

  As soon as they hit the ground she was on her feet. The net fell away easily, and she hauled Martin to his feet and dragged him down the street, away from the corner that should already be swarming with the rest of Rick's agents. She could hear Rick shouting down at them from above, but couldn't make out the words, and for that she was grateful.

  Martin limped along, and she dragged on his arm urging him forward. "Come on," she said. "They're going to know exactly where we are."

  "No," he panted, his breath coming ragged. "No, I locked out his headset before I jumped." He pulled free of her grasp and stopped, doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. "We should have a minute or two."

  "That's not a lot of time—"