by Cliff Ryder
I assume that you do, too. This morning, I received a report claiming that Alex has multiple sclerosis.
Can you confirm this?”
Brin stared at the screen. She read over the words several times, trying to find a way that they could mean something else. How could Alex have MS?
“No,” she typed at last. “I can’t confirm it. He hasn’t told me a thing. I knew he was, well, I didn’t think he… Alex said he was fine, but…”
“How did you know? Did he say something?”
“No, he didn’t say a thing. I got a call from the pharmacy this morning about a prescription that had been called in for him. He didn’t pick it up before he left. I’ve been trying all day to figure out why he’d be taking this particular medication, and now it makes sense—it’s an antiseizure medication.”
“Does Alex ever check in with you when he’s away?” Denny typed. “Is there any chance you could deliver a message to him?”
“He works with you and you can’t get hold of him?” It made her suspicious. She didn’t want to give anything away to this anonymous person.
Hell, she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t someone who might hurt Alex. The secrecy of the chat room was starting to make her feel the paranoia she’d assigned to the room only moments before.
“Our field agents are often in places where communication is difficult, if not impossible. Do you have any idea how sick he was when he left?
The information that we have indicates that he has primary progressive MS. It could take him fast and hard.”
Brin shuddered and forced back tears as though she were face-to-face with Denny and needed to conceal her feelings from him. “There were a few tremors. Mostly in his hands. I don’t think it’s gone very far, actually, but I don’t know for sure.
He was hiding it from me, though. I don’t know how much you know about me, but I understand this disease. There is a very real risk that it will escalate and I have no idea whether he’s begun taking the meds or not. He didn’t pick up the prescription he was given before he left.”
“We have to get in touch with him if it is at all possible. Given his location, he isn’t likely to contact you—no more than he would contact us—
but, please, if he checks in, can you give him a message from me?”
“Sure,” Brin typed, not feeling sure at all.
“Just tell him, ‘Personal Option Mission Recall.’”
She paused, held her breath and blinked. “If he checks in, I’ll give him the message. But you still haven’t really told me who you are or what this is about. I still don’t understand why you can’t reach him.”
“That’s all for now. Thank you, Mrs. Tempest.”
There was a long pause and Brin wondered if she should shut down the window. Then, “Once you shut down the chat window, don’t open it again. I’ll know if you do.”
“How will you know?” she typed, half-smiling.
“You don’t look good in red. You should have worn your blue pajamas.”
Brin began to shake, her teeth rattling as her eyes darted about the room. The computer camera.
It had to be on. She shut down the computer as quickly as she could and then shoved off from the desk hard enough to nearly topple the chair. Once she was up, she whipped off her robe and threw it over the computer and its small camera, just in case.
The weight of what she’d learned sat heavy on her chest. Alex had always seemed so healthy. She shook her head, knowing that thoughts like that were useless. She was a scientist, she knew that things like this struck without warning.
She tried to reason it and then realized there was no reasoning. It was what it was.
Brin started to cry.
“There’s an advantage to being an electronics importer,” Liang explained as he slipped out of the chair and let Alex slide in. “You get to know all sorts of electronics engineers, technicians, pro-grammers—you know the type.”
“I guess so,” Alex said as he leaned forward.
After rising and having a quick meal, he’d started in on the MRIS files from Room 59. Liang had been out all morning and returned with a small jump drive full of files and data of his own. He was the local asset and it was his responsibility to gather as much intel on the target facility as possible. He’d come through admirably in very short order, and Alex appreciated it. He was on a shorter schedule than even his superiors knew, and all his plans were geared toward a quick hit and quicker exit.
Spread out on the computer screen was a series of documents. Each one, when maximized, was a blueprint, or a wiring diagram. The entire plan for the MRIS compound had been captured digitally.
“I don’t suppose these plans for the building just happened to be on the Internet?” Alex commented drily. “I hope there’s no trail back to the leak?”
“No trail. A friend of mine was kind enough to procure them for me. I must say, he had to go through quite a few less than standard channels to get them. You can view several different versions, calling up just the electronics plans, locations of the security components, all exits, et cetera.”
Alex brought up the security blueprints, scanned the location of all the cameras, motion detectors. He nodded slowly. It seemed too easy, and this worried him a little. Room 59 operations usually targeted high-level security risks. One thing that was standard was the quality of the enemy. Alex never trusted anything that seemed easy, because he knew that taking anything for granted was the fastest way to mission failure—
usually on a catastrophic level.
“It won’t take me long to memorize these,” he said after a couple of moments. “At least the portions I need to be familiar with. The sticky part will be identifying and allowing for any changes in the security clearances at the checkpoints. How recent are these?”
“As of six days ago,” Liang said.
“I’d like to go take another look at the place in the daylight. Is that possible?”
“We’ll go tomorrow morning. In the meantime, you can go over the files and these plans. We’ll eat dinner here, and then you can get some rest. This could get tricky. You’ll let me know if there is anything else you need?”
Alex thought for a moment. He considered asking for a pain pill, but decided against it. He wished he’d remembered the damned medication that Britton had prescribed, but on a deeper level he was glad he hadn’t. There was no way to know ahead of time how it might affect his performance or his mind. He could overcome some physical handicaps, but if his brain went fuzzy, he was finished.
“I think I’m all set. Thanks.”
Liang exited quietly, and Alex got to work.
The file on MRIS was thick. A lot of what had been provided wasn’t necessary to his operation, but everyone involved had been thorough, as usual.
On a public level, MRIS was involved in biomedical research, mostly diagnostics. Alex knew that from Brin’s work. They specifically targeted degenerative diseases. The irony of this was not lost on him as his hands trembled over the keys of the laptop. The world looked to MRIS as a leader in the war against disease. Room 59 had uncovered a secondary arm of the corporation. It was unlikely that the stockholders were aware of this particular side. Unlike the main holdings of the company, this entity had a less than stellar rating in interna-tional protocols, which was a polite way of saying that several key figures had been suspected at one time or another of terrorism. Everything has a negative side, and the negative side of biomedical research was that often the technology developed to cure could also infect.
As he read, he was drawn in, fascinated by the technology, and at the same time sickened by the use it was planned for. He thought of Brin. Her name came up more than once on records in the research on this project, but he knew she would never have participated if she’d read what he was reading. He wondered briefly if Hershel Rand was involved, or if he, like Brin, was just being fooled by the benevolent mask behind which his company operated. If he did know—if he was aware of what was
coming—then Alex thought he might have to add a personal element to the end of this mission.
The concept read like something out of a science fiction novel. The actual biological research was conducted in labs across the globe, in Beijing, the United States, France and several other locations. Breakthroughs had been made, but, as Brin had patiently explained to him, understanding the breakdown in a cell and finding a way to reverse-engineer the damage on a cellular level were two very different concepts. They knew what broke down in the body when it fell victim to degenerative disease, but not how to provide that same body with the ability to rebuild itself. Once the natural immune system broke down, it was a game of compensation and prolonging the battle, but very seldom was there victory.
In many ways, the human body was a machine and the immune system was what allowed all the other parts to function correctly. Without it, it was only a matter of time until the machine malfunc-tioned on a critical level.
Alex read about the nanoagents MRIS had developed. What was chilling was that, rather than rebuilding cellular structure, the nanoagents could be used to introduce a virus, or a biological contaminant, and speed the process of infection. At the same time, they would continue to battle against anything trying to reverse the effect they sought. It would be like setting loose a hive of bees in a sauna—the cellular structure of a human being could be destroyed in seconds, and the agents could be designed to transfer. Once they introduced a virus, they could also enhance the spread of that virus.
This was the process that Room 59 had discovered underlying the MRIS research. They had also uncovered evidence of a planned test of the process, and it was aimed at a target within the United States. It would not be traceable back to the company, of course. Terrorist groups all over the world would leap at the chance to claim it, but a weapon of this magnitude couldn’t be allowed to flourish in secret, or to be fully tested and put into production. The only thing on Alex’s side was that the research was hidden behind deep security. The scientific community wasn’t even aware the break-through had occurred, and if Alex had a say in it, they never would be. He only hoped that the intel he had on the scheduled test was accurate, and that he would be quick enough to protect Brin.
The more he read, the more certain he was that if the process was brought into the U.S., it would be through her branch. If Room 59 found out that she was involved, it wouldn’t matter to them that she was his wife. She and everyone there would be just another target.
Finally he’d read and picked up all that he could retain. He had a headache from his blurring vision and sitting in front of the laptop for so long had caused an uncharacteristic stiffness in his limbs. He rose and performed a quick set of simple calisthenics and waited for Liang to call him to dinner. In the corner, a simple futon waited, and he found that he was really looking forward to making use of it. The next morning he was going to need his wits about him. There had to be more to the MRIS complex than appeared in the schematics he’d gone over. There had to be a flaw, and he had to find it.
WHEN ALEX AWOKE the next morning, sunlight had crept in between the slats of the blinds and striped his face white and gray, making his eyes burn. He rolled to one side on the futon, trying to escape the light for a few moments before he was forced to face the day. It was no use. Thin bands of light fell from the wall to the center of the room, leaving him no safe haven.
He rolled to the edge and pushed himself into a sitting position. For the moment his legs and arms seemed still and pain free. A few blinks brought the room into focus and he risked standing.
Once he had finished his ablutions, he wandered into the living room, hoping there was coffee instead of tea for breakfast. Liang was seated at the dining-room table, smiling brightly and reading the newspaper.
Alex smiled. He was taken by how different Liang’s household was from what he’d known on previous visits to China. The way Liang and Soo Lin interacted, the Western styling of the table, the disco clubs lining the streets downtown—such things would not have been possible a decade before.
“Good morning, my friend,” Liang said, a smile lighting his face. “I hope you slept well.”
“Well but briefly.”
“There’s some coffee in the kitchen, if you care for some.”
Alex almost let loose a cry of joy. He walked at once to the kitchen, to find a very familiar coffeemaker, several cups, a sugar bowl and creamer all laid out. Soo Lin was thorough, and Alex laughed as he realized the coffeemaker was probably another benefit of being an electronics importer. Liang was a man of many talents, and good taste, it seemed.
Alex poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the heat as he walked back to the dining room.
“Where’s Soo Lin this morning? Still sleeping?”
“She has already left for work. She doesn’t have to work, of course, but it helps us to maintain appearances. It also keeps her busy, and prevents awkward situations when my work is of a less mundane nature. When she is home, she watches over that kitchen like a tiger. Nothing gets done there without her supervision.”
Alex smiled. “She’s quite a lady. If we’re alone, then, we can talk. Your plans were most helpful. I think I’ve memorized the highlights. I’ll go over them again if I get a chance, but it’s a pretty straightforward setup.”
“Excellent. We can leave in about an hour.
Perhaps the daylight will reveal more of the lab’s secrets, eh?”
“Hopefully,” Alex said.
He was actually hoping for a little divine inspiration. So far, it had not been forthcoming. Part of being a chameleon was having a grasp of the environment that went beyond the physical world; it was understanding deep down what other people saw when they looked around.
Liang and Alex drove the small car out to the lab site once again. They approached from the opposite side this time, circling through the woods and stopping at the top of the hill. From the facility, all that was visible of the woods was a small patch near the top. No one down there could even see their car as it drove along the dirt road.
Alex stared down at the parking lot and frowned.
“Does anything about that parking lot strike you as odd?” he asked. “You’ve seen the shifts change, people coming and going.”
Liang followed Alex’s gaze, then mirrored his frown. “The cars. There are too many cars. Only about half that many people come or go at any given time.”
Alex squinted through the binoculars at the fenced-in parking lot, scanning the area for other differences that hadn’t been reported.
“Exactly. There is something going on here that isn’t in those plans.”
“The entire facility isn’t large enough to house that many workers,” Liang commented. “Perhaps there is more here than meets the eye. Could there be more underground?”
Alex spotted something at the far edge of his field of vision and he focused the binoculars in on that one object. He’d been looking for someone of a particular physical type, an American or European who had basically the same build and coloring as himself, and just to the side of the main building, he’d spotted him. Alex studied the man as he crossed the parking lot to the security area.
There were six men there, standing at attention.
His target was apparently a squad leader of some sort. That was good—his clearance would be higher.
“Those guards are PMC,” he told Liang.
“Private military contractors of some sort. There are six per squad, two squads, a leader for each.
That’s on the exterior. I’m tracking the squad leader of the team on the right. See if you recognize him.”
Liang took the binoculars from Alex and studied the man. “He does not look familiar.”
“He looks enough like me that I can pass for him. It won’t fool his men, especially up close, but for our needs, he’s perfect. We’ll come back for him tonight. If the schedule is correct, he’ll change shifts around eight.”
L
iang looked at him briefly. “You have a plan?”
“I do.” Alex nodded. Best to have a plan, he thought.
A field agent quickly learned that it was far too easy to improvise yourself right into an early grave.
“I’LL FLASH A LIGHT through the back window twice. Then you follow.” Alex zipped up his flak jacket and shoved his gun into its holster. The many pockets of the jacket were filled with his tools of the trade, weighing it down.
Liang nodded and slipped his own gun into its holster. “Good luck, Mr. Vance.”
Alex nodded and made his way down the hillside. The perimeter of the facility was well lit, especially at the fence line. But there was one spot that was dark enough to serve his purposes. He watched the two roving external squads carefully to gauge his moment. His target was a small, lonely stretch of fence running between the parking lot and the maintenance shed.
He moved quietly through the brush, nearing the fence at the center of that dark patch. One hand flipped open a pocket tool and pulled out a pair of wire cutters. He snipped the fence in a straight line upward, just large enough for him to enter. He would not be leaving the same way and didn’t want to call attention to the hole in the fence. Another pocket produced a handful of small metal clips, which Alex used to fasten the sections of wire together again.
Unless someone walked right up to the fence and stared, the damage would never be noticed.
Keeping low, he hurried off to the side of the maintenance shed. He could see both of the huge lights and all three cameras from where he crouched. He was in a small dead spot as long as he remained stationary. He’d noted the sweep of the cameras and the angle, and calculated the field of vision on each sweep.
A sudden noise rose from the back of the maintenance shed. Someone had turned on a pump of some sort, and once the shock of the sudden sound released its clamped grip on his heart, he realized it would work to his advantage, shielding any noise he produced. When the lights shifted just right, and the squad currently covering the lot had turned the corner at the far end, Alex made his move.
