So a third method would be employed. It was the same method that would be used in other troublesome areas like North Korea, Iran, several of the former Soviet Republics in the south, and much of the Middle East: modified passenger planes, painted to look like a local airliner, complete with correct transponder codes. Only instead of passengers, the planes would be carrying more than enough of the virus to drop a fine mist down over the targeted areas.
No nation would be immune.
“Any issues?” he asked.
“Nothing major, sir,” the Southeast Asian supervisor said. “A few local labor problems, money mainly, but we’re taking care of it.”
“And Burma?”
“Planes are in position and ready to be loaded.”
“Good.” The actual loading of the virus would not occur until a few hours before the final Go signal was transmitted.
They worked their way through Southern Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Europe without any major problems. In the North American report, the DOP was pleased to hear that one of his pet methods of distribution was prepped and ready to go. One of the Project’s front companies had purchased a produce company that created, among other things, specialized produce misters for grocery stores. These misters included cartridges that enhanced the spray so that fruits and vegetables would stay fresh longer. Come Implementation Day, the cartridges—now all ready to go—would replace the standard cartridges the stores were currently using.
Central America went quickly with a no-problem report.
The next satellite image up was South America.
The DOP asked his standard question. “Anything?”
“Not…really, sir.”
The DOP turned from the screen to the desk where the South American rep was sitting. “That sounded like something to me.”
“Just a little issue we’re dealing with.”
“What?”
A pause. “We received a sensor fault on an IDM in Buenos Aires. It’s probably nothing.”
“What kind of fault?”
“The top hatch. One of the sensors was registering a downward stress. But on the next check, everything was fine.”
“Is this the first time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Explanation?”
“Like I said, sir. I think it was just a fault.”
“But…”
“But I’m sending someone to check.”
“Good.”
Another hesitation. “The closest person with clearance is in Caracas. I’ve told him to get down to Buenos Aires as soon as he can.”
It probably was just an electronic glitch. There’d been a few others. Frankly, the DOP was surprised there weren’t more. With a massive global operation, technical issues were bound to happen. “Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“Next.”
The image was replaced by one of the Pacific Islands.
16
I.D. MINUS 8 DAYS
EIGHT PEOPLE. THAT was it.
It seemed so insignificant, microscopic even, especially when compared with the billions they were trying to save. But after going over everything again and again, it was decided that was all the resistance could spare for the mission to Bluebird. The argument was also made that with every additional team member, the risk of discovery would increase exponentially. If that happened, it was extremely possible the Project would order the immediate release of the virus into the world.
Though Ash had understood both positions, he didn’t have to like them. As way of compensation, Matt let Ash choose all but three of the team. The first of the exceptions was—as Ash had already known—Pax. Ash would have chosen him anyway. The other two were members of one of the Arctic search teams—the same duo who had discovered the highly suspect wreckage of yellow team’s boat.
That left four positions for Ash to fill. Tom Browne and Pat Solomon had shown their worth at the Bluff, though Tom really hadn’t needed to prove anything after what he did for Ash earlier that year. On Tom’s recommendation, Ash also included a man named Casey Nolan, known apparently to most people as Red.
“That’s seven,” Matt said when Ash gave him the names.
“You know who I want for number eight.”
Matt smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“And where will I—”
“Just outside San Diego. Pax will have the info.”
It took three full days to get all their equipment together and compile as much intelligence as possible. It could have easily taken three more, but they all knew they couldn’t afford any more time. Ash spent that final night in the room his kids were sharing. He lay on the floor listening to them sleep before finally nodding off himself.
At three a.m., his phone vibrated with the alarm he had reluctantly set. He slipped out from under his blanket, pushed himself up, and walked quietly toward the door.
“Be careful,” Josie said.
She was lying on her bed but her eyes were open.
He went back to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t wake me. I haven’t slept yet.”
“Oh, sweetie. You need to sleep.”
She tried to smile, but failed. “I didn’t…want to miss when you left.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
“Keep an eye on your brother.”
“I will.”
He went over to Brandon’s bed and kissed his sleeping son’s temple. “I love you, buddy.”
As he reached the door, Josie said again, “Be careful.”
Not wanting to lie, he said, “I’ll do my best.”
The four other members of the team who were at the Ranch met Ash in the kitchen for breakfast. Matt and Rachel were there, too. There were no big speeches. In fact, few words were spoken at all.
When it looked like everyone was done, Ash said, “I guess we should be off.”
One by one, they shook hands with Matt and Rachel. Ash went last.
“Josie and Brandon…” He couldn’t finish.
“They’ll be fine,” Rachel said. “There’s a whole group of people here who will take care of them.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
He shook hands with Matt and headed for the door, but stopped and looked back.
“We’re planning on coming back.”
“Good,” Matt said. “We’ll be waiting.”
__________
“ALL RIGHT. ALL right,” Madigan said between breaths. “Watch your left. You’re vulnerable there.”
“Like hell I am,” Chloe shot back. She faked with her left, hit him with her right, then finally let her left fly.
He grunted as her fist hit the punching mitt he was wearing.
“Not bad,” he said. “But I know you can do better.”
He moved to his left, and she bounced around to the right.
They were outside the gym, on the large padded surface near the side entrance. Matt had set up the training facility years ago in the hills outside Escondido, California, about half an hour north of downtown San Diego. Ramona, Madigan’s assistant, stood just off the mats, observing. Besides the three of them, there were only two others around, everyone else having shipped out on assignments.
Chloe had been waiting impatiently for hers, but it still hadn’t come. She knew why—her leg. She’d nearly crushed the damn thing in the spring. Sure, she still limped a little when she got tired, but the leg was better. Anything Matt needed, she knew she could do. She’d made Madigan call and tell him that much, but the assignment still hadn’t come.
“Getting tired?” Madigan asked.
“Maybe you are. Not me.” Her brown skin glistened with sweat as she faked again. This time, instead of following up with a right, she kicked out with her foot, pulling back at the last second so that her outer arch merely slapped his ribs as opposed to breaking them.
“Hey, now,�
�� he said. “We’re not working kicks today.”
“Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me there are no rules?”
“Yeah, well—”
From out front came the sound of tires stopping in the gravel parking area.
“Hold,” Madigan said.
Chloe took a step back, dropping her hands.
From their position, they could just see the hood of an unfamiliar dark sedan.
Madigan tossed the punching mitt to Ramona. “Take over. I’ll be right back.”
Ramona stepped on the mat and raised the mitt. “Let’s go.”
Chloe watched Madigan until he disappeared around the front of the gym, then released a rapid-fire combination that pushed Ramona back a few steps.
Ramona tossed the protective pad to the side. “No mitts on the outside as far as I’m aware. Spar?”
“Fine by me.”
Ramona had always been more aggressive than Madigan. Chloe got her best workouts on the days she took over.
As they squared off, they could hear two car doors opening and closing again. Voices followed.
Ramona feinted left, then came in low and tried to land a punch to Chloe’s ribs, but Chloe was ready. She twisted out of the way, swinging her leg around as she did, and knocked Ramona in the back.
“Lucky shot,” Ramona said as she pushed herself off the mat. “My turn now.”
Unfortunately for Ramona, Chloe was a good student, and remembered everything she was taught. Over the past several months, as they worked on strengthening her leg and improving her overall skills, she’d kept a keen eye on Ramona, learning the assistant’s moves, perfecting them herself, and mentally marking the other woman’s flaws.
So when Ramona came at her this time, Chloe knew where the hole would be, and perfectly timed a right uppercut that caught Ramona under the chin, knocking her backward in the air and then to the mat.
“Oh, shit,” Chloe said, dropping down next to Ramona. “You all right?”
Ramona looked at her for a moment, unfocused, then said, “I think maybe next time we stick to the mitt.”
From behind them, a voice said, “I guess that answers that question.”
Chloe looked back and saw that Madigan had returned with two others. When she saw who they were, she smiled broadly. “And what question would that be?”
Daniel Ash shrugged. “Just if you were in any condition to join us.”
__________
ASH HAD COME to trust Chloe like he trusted no one else. She had been at his side when he saved his kids, had almost permanently sacrificed her leg in the process. If he had to pick only one person to join him on this mission, she was it.
Chloe White was not her original name. That had been Lauren Scott. But after she was captured by the Project on a mission for Matt, the Project had done something to her that erased any memory of her past. In essence, Chloe White was born the day she was rescued.
It hadn’t harmed her intelligence, though, nor robbed her of much of the education she’d picked up before the loss. The personal things were the areas most affected—the people who’d been in her life, her family and friends. They were like strangers to her. As much as she tried, she could remember none of them. Ash couldn’t imagine how that must feel. Somehow, though, she had learned to cope.
Ash and Pax had left the other members of the team at the airport while they drove out to see her. They’d come around the corner of the building just in time to see Chloe knock the other woman to the mat.
“Ash and I need to have a conversation with Chloe,” Pax said to Madigan. “Any quiet place we can talk?”
“You can use the gym. No one’s in there.”
“Thanks.”
Since Chloe was the most familiar with the facility, she led the way.
As soon as they were alone, Ash gave her a hug. “Good to see you.”
“You, too,” she said.
Pax was next. “I could get used to a beautiful woman like you hugging me like this.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder. “Well, don’t. If anyone asks, I’ll be sure to say I’ve never let you within five feet of me.”
Pax looked around, and motioned to some chairs in the free-weights area. “Why don’t we have a seat?”
Once they were settled, Chloe eyed them both. “So, join you doing what?”
Before Ash could say anything, Pax held up a hand. “First, we need you to be straight up with us. How’s the leg?”
She let out a quick laugh and nodded. “I get it. You need to be sure.”
“That we do.”
“I take it this is a mission.”
“We’ll get to that. Now, your leg?”
She got up and lifted her left leg so she was only standing on her right. She then began hopping up and down. “It’s got some permanent pins, and there’s a plate right here.” She leaned down and touched a point on the side of her shin. “Sometimes when I get really tired, I limp, but my limp is faster than most people’s walking pace. Along with everything else Madigan’s been putting me through here, I go on a five-mile run every day, and on weekends Ramona and I go on a ten-mile hike.” She sat back down and looked Pax in the eyes. “The leg is what it is, but it’s never going to stop me.”
“I’m sold,” Ash said.
Pax shook his head. “All you had to do was say it’s fine.”
She glanced at Ash then Pax. “It’s fine.”
“You’re in,” Ash told her. “But only if you want to be.”
“I want to be.”
“Let me finish first.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes. I do.” Ash paused. “Chloe, this isn’t going to be easy. Matt would probably put our chances of success at ten percent.”
“Five,” Pax corrected.
“The point being, I’m not sure how many of us are going to make it back, whether we succeed or not.”
“How many of us are there?” she asked.
“With you, there’ll be eight.”
“Not a lot to start with.”
“No.”
She shrugged. “I’m still in. Better than hanging out here and waiting for the end of the world.”
Pax stood up. “Great. Let’s go get you outfitted in cold-weather gear and get under way.”
“Wait,” she said. “No one said anything about cold weather.”
17
BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA
HECTOR RAMIREZ WAS supposedly out questioning suspects regarding a rash of burglaries at several boutique hotels in the Palermo area. What he was really doing was much more enjoyable.
There was no one who could get him as excited as Gabriella. At least once a week, he would sneak away for a few hours in the afternoon so they could have some time together.
Though Hector was married, he wasn’t cheating on his wife. Gaby was his wife. Even after fifteen years together, she still was the most sensuous woman he’d ever met. While most of his colleagues wanted little to do with their spouses, Hector wanted everything to do with his. Happily for both of them, Gaby felt the same way about him.
They were on the living room couch, Gaby’s body straddling his as she moved in a rhythm all her own. She gave him a devilish smile as she pushed her dark hair behind her ear.
Oh, God, how had he ever gotten so lucky?
As he reached up to caress her breast, his phone rang. Annoyed, he looked over at the coffee table where it lay.
Without slowing at all, Gaby said, “Go ahead.”
“It can wait.”
Up and down she went. “I want you to answer.”
He sneered, knowing the possibility that it might be his boss—the danger of discovery—would turn her on even more.
Careful not to do anything that would throw off what she was doing, he reached over, nabbed the phone, and looked at the screen.
“Who is it?” she asked, her voice hushed.
“I don’t know.” There was no name, and the number was not one he r
ecognized. “I’ll let it go to voice mail.”
“No, go ahead. See who it is.”
She was crazy, this wife of his, and he loved that about her.
He accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. “Ramirez,” he said.
“Uncle Hector? It’s Patricia.”
Immediately, he put his hand over the phone and whispered. “Stop. Stop.”
His wife slowed, but didn’t completely halt.
“Uncle Hector?” his sister’s daughter said again.
“Patricia, how are you? Is everything okay?”
“Patricia?” Gaby whispered, confused. Then her eyes grew wide. “Our niece?”
Hector nodded. Gaby immediately rolled off her husband and sat down beside him.
“I’m…um…okay,” Patricia said.
“You sound like something’s wrong.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Did you get my message yesterday?”
He had, but between the hotel robbery investigation and dinner out with Gaby and their friends, he’d forgotten. “I’m sorry. I was very busy and couldn’t call you back.”
“It’s okay.”
“So what’s going on?”
“I, uh, found something, and showed it to Rodrigo. We both thought maybe we should show you, too.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. We thought it might have something to do with…drugs, maybe.”
Hector sat up. “Drugs? What are you talking about?”
She briefly told him what she had found.
“Where is this?”
“In our old neighborhood. You know, the one we lived in when I was a kid.”
If his niece was right, and the shipping container held drugs, then…good Lord, that could be one of the biggest seizes ever in the city. But if it was drugs, surely no one would have just left it there unwatched. According to Patricia, she’d been there twice already without anyone stopping her. That seemed inconsistent with what he knew about the business.
[Project Eden 02] - Exit 9 Page 11
