A Conspiracy of Ravens

by Terrence McCauley

  Tessmer paused, seeming to enjoy the look on Hicks’s face.

  Hicks felt sweat begin to run down his back.

  Tessmer stated the obvious. “That’s how we found your facility, Stephen. Al Clay led us right to your front door without even knowing it. Oh, he tried to be careful, of course. Changing cabs several times, heading in different directions. It was all so cute, but pathetic, too. Like an old boxer who refused to admit the game has passed him by.”

  Hicks felt his left hand ball into a fist.

  Tessmer went on. “We didn’t know what the 23rd Street complex was. Not at first. We knew his condition was terminal and thought he had simply gone to visit an old friend to say goodbye. But the more we looked into who he might be visiting, the more questions we had. The whole thing seemed too perfect. Too bland. So I placed your building under passive surveillance. It took us a few days, but we were able to tie into the security system of a building across the street, and angled the camera your way. It recorded everyone who came and went. Of course, I eventually got your picture. It didn’t take long for our sources to match you to the CIA description of the person of interest in the Bajjah disappearance.”

  Hicks felt the blood roar in his ears. His breathing became shallow. More sweat broke out across his back.

  The Dean had led these sons of bitches right to his front door. The Dean had betrayed him without even knowing it.

  “That’s when I knew you and that building must be important,” Tessmer went on. “We tried to get in, but never succeeded. We tried to find a way to knock out your external cameras, but could never lock on to the network. We didn’t know you had gone to Toronto until much later. More digging into your trip showed you were with the girl who had been shot. Cameras showed she had given you something, though what we didn’t know. But we bided our time, watching and waiting, ready to strike if and when we needed. When I received the alert that someone was beginning to dig into my Tessmer legend, I knew you must have obtained such information in Toronto and I decided the time had come to strike.”

  Hicks felt himself begin to slump. Everything that had happened in the past week—the explosions, the deaths, Tali—all of it had been because his dying mentor had paid him one last visit before he killed himself.

  The man who had placed such a high value on safety and protocol had ultimately been responsible for hurting the one thing he loved most. The University. Hicks looked up at the sky. The irony was so thick he would have laughed if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

  “Who was Al Clay anyway?” Tessmer asked. “An asset? A retiree who kept his hand in the game? We never could quite figure that out.”

  Hicks closed his eyes. At least he’d managed to keep some of his dignity from the bastards. “My friend.”

  Tessmer seemed to mull that over for a moment. “I’m not sure I believe you, but it’s of no importance now. Nations rise and fall, so why should men be any different? We have both lost much since this entire mess started, Stephen. I’d like to change that starting here. Today.”

  Hicks wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “What?”

  “That’s the reason I wanted us to meet today,” he explained. “To form a partnership. Or at least some level of understanding between our two organizations. I don’t know much about your organization, but I know it poses a significant threat to mine. I’m old enough to know the days of conflict between nations have passed. Smaller bands of zealots pose a far greater threat than troops and battleships and stealth bombers. The world has downsized, and so has the nature of combat.”

  Hicks was still reeling from the news that the Dean had been compromised. “What the fuck are you babbling about?”

  “I’m not babbling,” Tessmer said. “Merely stating the obvious. The conflicts of the world have grown smaller with fewer players, but with greater implications. That’s bad for the militaries of the world, but presents unique opportunities for organizations like yours and mine. The lumbering mobilization of vast armies has passed. Smaller organizations like ours hold the keys to who lives and who dies these days. I propose we reach a simple, mutually beneficial arrangement whereby you continue to fight the Vanguard and the Vanguard continues to fight you. But we coordinate that fight in order to minimize the damage we will cause each other’s organization.”

  Hicks heard the words, but they didn’t make any sense. “You’re insane.”

  “No, just practical,” Tessmer admitted. “The strike on New York failed to achieve its primary objective, which was to kill you while sparking an international conflict between Iran and the United States, but it isn’t a total loss. The Vanguard has laid the necessary ground work to give the United States a perfectly valid excuse for attacking Iran, which is all we really wanted in the first place. Killing you was something of a bonus. The resulting conflict, be it overt or covert, could be of great benefit to our respective organizations. Arms will need to be supplied. Intelligence will need to be gathered. There is plenty of work to go around for all of us. Remember, out of chaos comes opportunity.”

  “Your Chinese friends know your plan?”

  “No, but they will benefit from it regardless. Our respective organizations can go on fighting each other as we have for the past several days, with biohazards and raids and bombings. Or we can work together to rig the game in our favor. Keep the respective governments off balance just enough to make sure we still have a seat at the table. You have your beliefs and I have mine. Sometimes you gain the upper hand, sometimes the Vanguard wins. With proper planning, loss of life, resources, and revenue can be kept to a manageable number so long as our respective masters are served.”

  The shock of Tessmer’s words was finally beginning to wear off. “Revenue? I thought you were a Communist.”

  Tessmer laughed. “I am, as are my Chinese partners. But unlike my friends in the Far East, I am a realist who understands we need money to achieve our goals. I am content with a certain amount of achievement while my Chinese friends seek to spread the revolution to every corner of the globe. My sources at the CIA are buzzing about some new information they have uncovered from an untapped source. I believe it must be the information on the laptop you stole from our facility. The laptop your Jewess died to protect. My Chinese partners want me to present your head to them at our next meeting. That’s not an exaggeration. The Chinese are renowned for their cunning, but they have a great propensity for brutality.”

  Hicks’s right hand moved closer to his belt buckle, closer to the Ruger. “So why don’t you try to take it?”

  “Because your death would be as pointless as my own. Our deaths would accomplish nothing. Both of us would be replaced in a matter of hours, if not sooner. That is why I propose a strategy that allows each of us to remain the white whale of our respective Ahabs, keeping each other just far enough out of reach to continue our usefulness to our causes.”

  Tessmer pointed at the crypt and the gravestone. “Let us stop this nonsense before we end up here, among the dead and the forgotten. We all end up here eventually. Why hasten it over the whims of some near-sighted imbeciles who seek to use us to further their own causes? Field men like us have always held back what they tell their handlers. All I propose is that we continue to do so in concert, in order to maintain our relevance and indispensability.”

  Tessmer gestured toward the crucifix on one of the gravestones nearby. “To paraphrase what that man once said, ‘Give unto Langley and Xinjiang what is theirs, and give unto us that which is our own.’ What do you say? You know I’m right.”

  Hicks caught the reference. “Your partners are in Xinjiang?”

  And for the first time since they’d met, Tessmer didn’t look quite so cocky.

  Tessmer’s left hand moved toward his jacket.

  Hicks pulled the Ruger and fired. The .454 caliber slug evaporated Tessmer’s left knee on impact. The German bellowed as he collapsed onto the grave he had arranged for Stephen Bumgarner.

  Hicks saw the Glock in Tessmer’s right
hand. He walked over and stepped on the hand, ignoring the man’s screams as his bones gave way. The bones of the same hand that had killed Tali.

  He aimed the Ruger at Tessmer’s head. “I knew you’d hang yourself if I let you run your mouth long enough.”

  Hicks heard Rivas screaming in his ear, “Don’t kill him!”

  Hicks pulled the ear bud free and cast it aside, but could still hear his name echoing through the cemetery.

  “You goddamned fool!” Tessmer roared up at him. He feebly grabbed at Hicks’s leg. Hicks put more pressure on the hand trapped beneath his boot.

  “You killed my friends. You tried to kill me.” A column of bile filled Hicks’s mouth. He turned his head and spat it against the façade of the von Hayek crypt. “You killed people I loved. You…”

  Hicks felt himself get lifted off the ground and thrown backward, hitting the crypt before slamming to the ground. It took a second for a web of pain to spread from the center of his chest to the rest of his body. He realized he’d been shot, but two layers of protective Kevlar had prevented the bullet from puncturing his chest.

  He felt a weight in his right hand and realized he hadn’t lost his grip on the Ruger.

  He ignored the pain and lay flat against the ground, hoping the gravestones would give him some kind of cover. He brought up the Ruger, waiting for something to shoot at.

  The first thing he saw was two hands high in the air. “It’s Roger. Don’t shoot. You’re safe. The area’s clear.” Roger tucked Tessmer’s gun into his vest and began tending to the man’s wounds.

  Hicks let his arm drop and gave in to the pain. “Then who the fuck shot me?”

  “I did.” Scott came up next to Roger, M4 at his side. He picked up the earbud Hicks had discarded and handed it back to him. “Rivas gave the order to shoot when you took this off. I’ll apologize if it’ll make you feel better, but I’m not sorry.”

  Hicks’s anger at being shot deadened the pain. “I would’ve shot him in the head if I’d wanted to kill him.”

  “Been in the same position as you. Didn’t always handle it as well as you did. We just wanted to make sure you didn’t do something we’d all regret later.” Scott held out his hand to him. “Now get up.”

  Hicks took Scott’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. His chest hurt like hell. He’d never been kicked by a horse, but imagined it would feel pretty much like this. “You said the area’s secure?”

  “Demerest’s German friends held their own,” Scott said. “Eighteen dead, none left alive. The Krauts aren’t happy they won’t be interrogating anyone, but that’s too bad.”

  “And good for us.” Hicks winced as he tucked the Ruger back in its holster. Roger was already applying a crude field dressing to Tessmer’s ruined leg. “He going to make it?”

  “Not if Patel doesn’t get here with that fucking ambulance,” Roger said as he cut away Tessmer’s pants leg. “Where is he, Rivas?”

  Hicks hadn’t put the bud back in his ear, so he didn’t hear Rivas’ response. Scott relayed the message for him. “He’ll be coming through the back gate, two minutes out.”

  “The knee is completely gone and the leg is barely attached,” Roger said, “but I think I can stop the bleeding with what I have in the van. After that, maybe the Barnyard has some resources that can keep him alive.”

  “We’re not turning him over to Demerest or anyone else,” Hicks said. “Not yet.”

  Scott pointed at the cemetery entrance. “Patel’s here.”

  Hicks turned and saw the white cargo van speeding up the same path he’d walked not ten minutes before, back when he had been remembering his boyhood dreams and before he had been confronted with that boyhood self by a man he had come to kill. A man he hadn’t killed because of the man he had become. The circular irony of the entire event would have made his head hurt if his chest didn’t already hurt so much.

  Patel pulled the van to halt at the row where they were. He kept the motor running as he jumped out from behind the wheel and ran around to the side to open the sliding door.

  Roger tied off the bandage on Tessmer’s wound and called out to Patel. “Get over here and help us load him into the van. We…”

  He stopped when he saw the name on the grave where Tessmer was lying. “Jesus Christ.” He looked at Hicks. “James, how…?”

  Hicks didn’t want to talk about it in front of the others. He grabbed Tessmer by one shoulder and beckoned Scott to take him by the other. “Patel, take his legs and keep the left one elevated. I don’t want this son of a bitch bleeding out before we get anything out of him.”

  The four of them loaded the wounded man into the back of the van. Roger climbed in first with Hicks close behind, pulling the door shut. Patel got back behind the wheel while Scott got in the passenger seat.

  Patel threw the van into reverse and backed down the path, brought the van into a hard right, slammed on the brakes, threw the vehicle into drive, and hit the gas. They passed under the gated entrance to the cemetery and rejoined the busy flow of morning Berlin traffic.

  Hicks kept pressure on Tessmer’s leg while Roger tried to stop the bleeding. His watch said it was just past eight fifteen in the morning. The entire incident had taken less than fifteen minutes. A lifetime for some. Not long enough for others.

  He looked at Tessmer, who was struggling to stay conscious. Don’t die, you son of a bitch. Not yet.

  AFTER THEY got Tessmer situated in Roger’s space at the Penthouse, Hicks decided he should let the rest of the world know what had happened.

  He was about to pull off his Kevlar vest, but when the pain in his chest spiked he decided to leave the damned thing on. He eased himself down onto the couch in the living area, pulled out his handheld, and dialed Jason.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Jason said. “I monitored Rivas’s feed via OMNI. Thank God we didn’t lose anyone. Will Tessmer make it?”

  “Roger’s working on him now. Patel’s in there with him. Tessmer’s left knee is gone, but if they can stop the bleeding, he might live long enough for us to get something out of him.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” Jason said.

  “Not yet, anyway. You’d better connect me with Demerest. Same security protocol as before. He’ll definitely trace the call, and I don’t want his people kicking in doors looking for Tessmer. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  “Calling now,” Jason said. “One moment.”

  Demerest answered the call. Hicks could tell by the echo it was on speakerphone. “What the hell happened? The Germans are furious that it turned into a bloodbath, and they have nothing to show for it but dead bodies. And I haven’t been able to get shit out of your people all morning. What happened with Tessmer?”

  Hicks had no intention of telling him Tessmer’s real last name was von Hayek. He hadn’t been able to run the name through OMNI yet, and didn’t know what it might turn up. He’d done a good job of keeping the CIA at bay. Giving them Tessmer’s real name could lead them to drive the Vanguard underground. He wanted to know as much as he could about the organization before he told the world.

  Hicks stalled for time. “Why am I on speakerphone?”

  “Sarah is here with me. Just the two of us, I promise. The Germans found a lot of blood at a gravesite, but no body. Do you have Tessmer?”

  “I’ve got him. He’s wounded, but I think we can save him.”

  He heard Demerest cheer.

  The Trustee said, “This is very good news, James. Better than you know. We have our boogeyman. This is going to go a long way toward getting the Russians and the Israelis to calm down.”

  “Now we can get to work on the son of a bitch,” Demerest said. “Time is of the essence, son. Are you ready to copy an address?”

  “No,” Hicks said. “I’ve got him and I’m keeping him. You’ve got his laptop, you’ve got his network, and in a little while, I’ll probably be able to give you the location of his counterparts in China. You’re going t
o have to move quickly to track them, because when they find out what happened at the cemetery, the Chinese faction will probably disappear.”

  Demerest didn’t sound happy. “I want Tessmer, son. I want him right fucking now. That’s non-negotiable.”

  Hicks ignored him. “The answer is still no. Keeping him for a while is the cost for the information we get out of him. You’ll get him when I’m through.”

  “Unacceptable,” Demerest said. “I need him in custody as soon as possible. I need him in a box with trained interrogators who know what they’re doing. People who—”

  “Have to obey the law,” the Trustee interrupted. “And worry about congressional oversight and findings. James is right, Carl. We don’t have that kind of time and you can’t afford that kind of liability.” Her voice changed. “James, you have your deal. You can hand over Tessmer whenever you’re done with him, preferably alive. Now, why are you calling? I know it’s not to keep us in the loop.”

  “Before I shot him, Tessmer gave me a location in China,” Hicks said. “I don’t know anything about China, and you people know everything. I need Agency intel on whether it’s a viable location.”

  Hicks knew he could have OMNI hack agency files to get a handle on the region, but the files wouldn’t contain everything. One phone call from Demerest to the people staffing the Agency’s China desk and he’d have more information in ten minutes than OMNI could gather in a day.

  “Fine,” Demerest said. “I’m not happy, but I can live with that. What region are you talking about?”

  “Xinjiang,” Hicks said. “And don’t waste time thinking it’s a ruse because it’s not. The son of a bitch tried to shoot me right after he said it, so something’s got to be there. I need to know what could be there and what is there, and we need to start looking now. If it’s some mobile base, they might already be pulling up stakes.”