If he was honest with himself, Cyrus knew he was more concerned with the way the Red Queen manipulated his involvement in the operation. She didn’t need to lie in order to get him to do his job. In fact, the better question was, why did she feel the need to lie at all? And if she was lying about this operation, what other hidden ways might she be manipulating him?
————
Boone hung up the phone with a loud click and a deep sigh. He sagged against his seat and rubbed his eyes. After taking a long look at the pair of prisoners at the rear of the cabin, he turned his attention to the duo guarding them. A soldier clad in black tactical gear sat in a fold-down jump seat to the side of each hooded detainee. Both guards were sharp and alert, their full focus centered on the motionless forms of their charges. It was a dull, thankless job, Boone knew. He was glad he didn’t have to spend the long hours staring at a pair of unconscious prisoners.
Moving from his seat by the phone, Boone walked to the front of the cabin and dropped into the wide, swiveling leather recliner beside Cyrus. He strapped his safety belt and rubbed his tired eyes once more.
“You’re popular,” Cyrus said, tipping his head in the direction of the phone a few seats away.
Boone rolled his eyes. “The Red Queen. She wanted to debrief while we were en route.”
Cyrus grinned at Boone’s use of Monica Fichtner’s nickname, and Boone realized he’d used it without thought. Shaking his head in tired frustration, Boone couldn’t hide his smirk. The nickname had spread quickly through the ranks of the Coalition, though no one dared use it Monica Fichtner’s presence. Boone had no doubt that Cyrus was responsible for the moniker. It wasn’t until the name really took hold that he felt compelled to ask about its significance. Until that point, he’d never heard of the evil artificial intelligence from the ‘Resident Evil’ movie series. He had to admit that the ruthless, robotic quality of an A.I. was a pretty accurate depiction of their leader. It was no wonder the name had stuck and spread so quickly.
Now even he was using it, Boone realized.
“What did I do to warrant these first class accommodations?” Cyrus asked. There was an uneasy look in his eye. Boone read it as suspicion. “I always ride the freight transport back with the rest of the team. Something’s up. What’s going on?”
Boone eased his seat back. “Monica’s got a Brainstorm Session scheduled for first thing in the morning. Apparently the meeting is a priority; even your debriefing is being postponed.”
Cyrus seemed to consider that for a moment. Boone saw his eyes narrow.
“What does that have to do with me?” Cyrus offered a suspicious glare.
Boone grinned. “Seems you’re sitting in on the meeting with me.”
“The hell I am!” Cyrus grumbled. “Six months! Six months under. I’m going home. I’ve got a long-standing date with my shower and my pillow. If Monica thinks I’m going into the office when I get off this plane, she’s got another thing coming.”
“Come on. Think of it as a promotion.”
“Is that what this is? Why? What did you do?”
Boone shrugged. “You’ve offered some great insight in the past. I just made sure Monica and Clayton knew where the ideas were coming from. You’ve got yourself to thank for this unwanted invitation.”
Closing his eyes and slouching in his chair, Cyrus still didn’t seem at ease. “Why doesn’t this feel like an invitation?”
Boone couldn’t suppress his smile. It was a fair observation. His attendance wasn’t actually optional. “Think of it as a trial run. If you really don’t want this, all you have to do is fail to be your normal, resourceful self.”
Cyrus fell silent for nearly thirty seconds; long enough for Boone to start feeling nervous. He didn’t want to force the issue. Thankfully, when a mischievous smile spread across Cyrus’s face, Boone knew something had turned things in his favor.
“Reid’s going to have a fit over this, isn’t he?” Cyrus asked. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
Boone laughed. “What’s his problem with you, anyway?”
“I wish I knew. It’s like he looks for opportunities to give me shit. I have no idea what’s behind it.”
“Let me worry about Reid,” Boone said. “Are you in?”
Cyrus offered a shrug and only a slight nod of his head—one that lacked any enthusiasm. “Why not? I get to see the Red Queen in action. It might be worth the loss of a little more sleep.”
There was something about the look in Cyrus’s eyes when he spoke—it gave Boone pause. It was no secret Cyrus wasn’t a big fan of Monica Fichtner, but the two rarely interacted directly. Though Cyrus never said as much, Boone couldn’t help but wonder if putting them in the same room might be a mistake.
“Is this another one of the Red Queen’s tests?”
Boone shrugged. He honestly didn’t know the answer.
Chapter 9
Memorial Tower
8:05 am
The Gulfstream touched down at the Coalition’s private airstrip to find a multi-car prison escort waiting to take Sutter into custody. Less than five minutes after the jet had rolled to a stop, Sutter had been awakened and led from the aircraft. A medical technician examined him before he was shackled in additional restraints and loaded into the back of an armored prison transport.
A few minutes later, the same process was repeated with Kang. The transport this time was handled by people from the CIA. Cyrus recognized several of the black suited men taking possession of him. Once Kang’s hood came off, Cyrus saw the thick spool of gauze that was wound around his head to cover insulation that had been inserted in his ears. When Boone had explained that they’d blown out both of Kang’s eardrums, Cyrus thought he was exaggerating. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
A dark SUV was also standing by for Cyrus and Boone. It took them directly to Coalition Command at Memorial Tower. Cyrus considered the unfairness of it all as he stood in the small kitchen nook and poured himself a large cup of thick, dark coffee. Not only had he been denied the comfort of his own bed, but rumor had it that the Red Queen was already looking to task his team with a new assignment.
Taking his coffee and heading down the hall, Cyrus reached his office door and swiped his keycard across the striker plate. At the sound of the mechanical latch, he entered.
Everything was just how he’d left it half a year earlier. The office was so small that there was barely enough room for both him and the desk. One small file cabinet was wedged in the corner. No photos or documents adorned the plain, utilitarian off-white paint on the walls. There were no bookshelves or decorations of any kind. None of those things mattered to Cyrus; he never spent time in the office anyway.
One thing had changed, he realized. A short stack of files sat in the middle of his desk. The only new addition to the office was the thin layer of dust that coated all surfaces. Months of neglect would do that, he decided.
The files were the reason that he and Boone had been contacted before returning from their last operation. Whatever information was contained within the three file folders, it was the reason for the urgent Brainstorm Session.
What could be so important?
Dropping into the chair behind the desk, Cyrus flipped open the top folder. It was an information dump pertaining to a potential operation. It was like many similar cases he analyzed between field assignments. Before an operation went live, the facts of different cases were put before a team of senior agents and analysts for review. The idea was to gather insight based on disparate portions of data that had been assembled. Then, based on a review of the case, the Coalition would either take on the operation, or farm it out to the intelligence or law enforcement agency best suited for the situation.
During his earliest days with the field team, Boone had put a lot of info dumps—or gists, as they were sometimes called—in front of Cyrus and asked him for evaluations. At the time, Cyrus didn’t realize that the cases Boone put before him were for past operations. The
y were scenarios that had already played out, or led to events that had already taken place; some with varying degrees of success.
To Boone’s surprise, Cyrus’s analyses of the closed cases included insights that were not among those gleaned by the operatives who originally preflighted them. Boone quickly discovered that Cyrus had a knack for finding anomalies in the data and offering information that had been missed by agents before him.
This led to Cyrus’s rapid promotion and involvement in the vetting of live cases. At first, Boone couldn’t get his immediate boss, Thomas Clayton, or Clayton’s boss, the Red Queen, to allow Cyrus access to the necessary raw intelligence. Still, Boone knew that the process would benefit from Cyrus’s observant eye. To that end, he started taking files to Cyrus after hours. After turning up a few high value insights, Boone finally leveled with Clayton and the Red Queen. Cyrus was given access to case files on a regular basis. Until now, he had never been a direct part of their so called Brainstorm Sessions.
Cyrus still wasn’t sure his newfound involvement was a positive career move. His current circumstances were a prime example. He wanted nothing more than to get home to bed and enjoy some much overdue rest and relaxation. Still, even as he flipped through the first file, he couldn’t deny that what he saw intrigued him. Every case was like a puzzle. Every story was unique. No matter what was in the file, there was always more going on than immediately met the eye.
That was his secret for finding the details hidden in the data dumps. It was human nature to get stuck on the most likely story presented by the evidence. But in so many cases, the data didn’t tell the whole story, or at least not right away. It was easy for an investigator to be led down the wrong path. For Cyrus, the trick was to look at the data and find the story buried within—the less obvious tale that didn’t immediately spring to mind when looking at the clinical facts. Looking at the data from alternative perspectives was the key to asking the right questions, and those questions were crucial to any investigation.
All of this led to the three data dumps spread out before Cyrus. Though he’d contributed to the Brainstorm Sessions many times in the past, he had always done so from behind the scenes, using Boone as a conduit to convey his insights. He was about to walk into his first actual meeting—and there was a catch. The Red Queen wanted both him and Boone to take a look at the data and then discuss their thoughts at the 8:30 am meeting. That didn’t leave him much time. It didn’t even leave him enough time to fully digest one of the cases, let alone all three.
The Red Queen wasn’t one for realistic expectations, but even by her standards this was unusual. Furthermore, had she chosen, these files could’ve been transmitted to them aboard the Gulfstream. While it was obvious that there was something more going on, Cyrus couldn’t yet tell what it was.
Still, the deadline was quickly approaching. Whether he had completed review of the files or not, the meeting would start in less than fifteen minutes. He decided to hit the first case hard and soak it in. Hopefully, while everyone was discussing that case, he would find the time to review the remaining pair.
Cyrus knew Boone had the same files on his desk at this very moment, and was pretty sure Boone would be taking the same approach.
What was the real point of the meeting? It had to be some kind of test.
It was as if the Red Queen was trying to intentionally catch him unprepared.
Chapter 10
Memorial Tower
8:25 am
Walking into the conference room, Boone was disappointed to find everyone but Cyrus already on hand. The Red—shit!—Monica Fichtner, that habit was going to bite him in the ass one day, was already in place at the head of the table. To her right was Thomas Clayton, her second in command. Across the table from him was a newcomer, Charlie Greene. She was a bright eyed, dark haired young woman who had very recently been put in charge of Logistics. Boone had met her only once—briefly, just prior to her promotion. This was her first time attending a Brainstorm Session.
Boone hoped that today’s session would prove to be one of the group’s better days. Sometimes the meetings grew heated. When tensions escalated, things grew increasingly unproductive. Since Charlie was attending for the first time, and since he and Cyrus were functioning on little sleep, Boone had hopes of getting out the door in short order.
Beside Charlie sat Luke Reid, head of Tactical Operations. While Boone headed Field Operations, Reid was responsible for tactical support for Boone’s men. That basically meant that while Boone ran things offsite, Reid was responsible for quarterbacking the live operation from headquarters over the communications relay. Reid was a good man, but Boone sometimes found himself butting heads with him over the most pointless of issues. He wasn’t very flexible, and field operations were all about being able to adapt to situations in a quick, fluid manner.
Placing the short stack of folders on the table, Boone slid into a chair at the foot of the table, opposite Monica. As he sat, her eyes rose to meet his. “Good morning,” she said. “Pleasant flight?” There was a small smile on her lips. It was a mirth that didn’t touch her eyes.
All the warmth and compassion of a tarantula.
“Fast and smooth,” Boone offered. “Sutter didn’t have any complaints.”
It was an attempt at a joke. Sutter had been bound and sedated for the entire trip. She knew as much. They all did. The unfortunate fact was that, if Monica had any sense of humor at all, no one at the office had ever witnessed it.
However, Boone’s crack at the arms dealer’s expense did raise a chuckle from both Reid and Clayton.
“It’s good to finally have the sonofabitch behind bars,” Clayton responded. He was visibly gnashing his teeth at the thought. It was understandable; Clayton had a deep-seated hatred for Sutter. Though Boone didn’t know the details, he understood that Sutter had somehow wronged Clayton early in his career.
“Truth be told, I wouldn’t have shed a tear if the bastard didn’t make it through the operation,” Reid offered. “Maybe you should’ve had a talk with the kid before you sent him under with that gang.”
Boone wanted to let the comment pass. He knew Reid was just making a joke, but he also knew he was half serious. “That’s the thing about Cyrus,” Boone said. “When I give him an order, he’ll do his damnedest to follow it, despite what he thinks of the people he’s working with—or for.”
Reid nodded with understanding, then his eyes darted to meet those of Boone, as he realized the veiled slight.
Yup, still too slow on the up-take.
“Where is the kid, anyway,” Reid demanded. An edge had entered his voice, and Boone realized he’d just done Cyrus a disservice by raising the man’s ire before the start of the meeting.
Charlie shift uncomfortably in her seat at the corner of the table. Reid’s tension wasn’t lost on her.
“He’ll be along in a minute,” Boone said simply. “He just had the raw data for three cases dumped in his lap. He makes a point of reviewing the files before he offers an opinion. We should all be as vigilant.”
Whoops.
Boone was on a roll. He saw Reid’s lips draw tight at the reference to the last Brainstorm Session. In that meeting, Reid had made a swift and decisive judgment regarding a potential operation. At first, his decision had seemed sound. That was, until Boone pulled out the report Cyrus had written based on his examination of the same data Reid had referenced. In the end, the group had sided with Cyrus’s analysis—a recommendation that was in polar opposition to that of Reid’s. And while Boone knew that Reid had secretly hoped for the resulting mission to collapse in failure, it was actually completed by the Coalition’s most novice field team, and to great success. The operation had unfolded exactly as Cyrus had predicted based on the information he’d been presented.
While Reid knew he had to maintain a working relationship with Boone, Boone knew that Reid had no such problems starting trouble with Cyrus.
“Tell me again why Cyrus is even involved?�
� Reid asked of Monica.
Oh, don’t ask that!
Monica Fichtner glared over the edge of her glasses. She seemed to realize that the look had not proven a sufficient enough answer, and elaborated. “I think Cyrus’s most recent analysis was proof that we could benefit from his insight, don’t you?”
Boone tried to hide his smirk.
Ouch! Ask a stupid question…
Boone could see from the look on Reid’s face that he was about to boil over. Pressure was building; it was only a matter of time before he blew. Glancing at his watch, Boone wondered if he could get Reid’s hissy-fit out of the way before Cyrus arrived.
“Miss Greene?” Boone asked. “Would you do me a personal favor?”
Charlie Greene was looking increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment. Boone wanted to do something about that and deal with Reid at the same time.
Charlie met Boone’s eyes, likely unsure what to say in such a charged situation.
“Cyrus Cooper should be here any moment,” Boone explained. “Unless I miss my guess, he’ll be in the hallway not far away at this moment. Would you be so kind as to intercept him and delay him for about five minutes?”
Charlie looked confused by the request. She clearly didn’t know how to respond.
Boone glanced at Clayton. He was watching events unfold with what could only be described as a morbid curiosity. Monica, for her part, was so absorbed in the paperwork on the table in front of her that she didn’t even notice what was going on. No, Boone looked closer. That wasn’t the case. She wasn’t all that engrossed in the paperwork. She, too, seemed to be waiting to see how things played out. She just didn’t want to participate in what was happening.
Bureaucrats.
“I was just thinking that, if you stepped outside for a moment and delayed Cyrus in the process, we might be able to settle something in here and make for a more comfortable and pleasant working environment in the process,” Boone explained to her.
Rogue Faction Part 1 Page 7
