Delta Green: Strange Authorities

by John Scott Tynes

  Sparks flickered behind the glass screen as Abe moved it back into place. His face was bathed in a warm glow. Agent Nancy and the rest of Cell N sipped at their pints in silence, letting Alphonse do the talking. Vic kept stealing glances at Nancy, vaguely trying to figure her out.

  “You think her handlers will be there?”

  “Probably not. They’ve got her programmed, so why bother? But we can’t be too careful.”

  The pair took their sandwiches into the Naval park and found a small picnic table nearby. Ms. Green glanced around for a moment before sitting down. “So you need some help?” Elizabeth asked. “What with?”

  Ms. Green looked nervous. “I just got back from Groversville.”

  “You mean Promise,” Elizabeth said, her features hardening.

  “Yeah. Promise. I was just there, with my cell. You know. Following up on Shasta.”

  “Which cell?”

  “Oh, right. Cell T. I’m Agent Terry.”

  “Terry?” Elizabeth asked. “You reported to Shasta?”

  “No, I’m not the cell leader.”

  “But you knew him.”

  Agent Terry seemed uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  Elizabeth waited for her to go on.

  “Anyway, we met this guy. Older, southern accent. Three gold teeth. I think your cell met him before.”

  “Sure did. He’s a piece of work.”

  “He’s dead,” Terry said. “I shot him. Three times.”

  Elizabeth nonchalantly took a bite of her sandwich and chewed for a moment. “Sounds good to me. What’s the trouble?”

  “Alphonse yanked me. Said I was out of line, shooting that guy.”

  “Was he threatening you?”

  “No. He just made a crack about Shasta and I lost it.”

  Elizabeth smiled for the first time during their meeting. “Well. Quite the Lash LaRue, aren’t we?”

  Agent Terry glowered. “Look, it just happened. And now I’m catching a shitstorm for it.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “I think Alphonse is going to call you in soon for an op. I’d really appreciate it if you could put in a good word for me. I want a piece of it.”

  “What op?”

  “Now this is the crucial part,” Alphonse said, sitting down with a tray of fresh drinks for everyone. “We’ve got to give them something that’s too dramatic for them to ignore. Something that’ll throw them for a loop. Something so good that they’ll want to do more than just have Susan report by phone. They’ve got to bring her in for this to work, or we get squat.”

  “So what’s the story?” Vic asked, taking her cider off the tray.

  Alphonse snorted. “Something beefy. They’ll flip their lids over this one.”

  “We’re gonna nuke Groversville,” Terry said.

  “What?” Elizabeth was taken aback.

  “I don’t mean nuke, nuke. We’ve got some sort of bio-weapon against the neo-tissue. We’re gonna get a crop duster and just saturate the place. Within a few hours, there won’t be a drop of the stuff left alive. Probably be corpses everywhere, too, if the population is infested like before.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, exactly. We’re gonna hit town hall while it’s going down, blow in and get whatever documentation we can. Names, numbers, the works. A major strike. Enolsis all over again, only whoever has Shasta will be forced to keep it quiet.”

  Elizabeth sat back, stunned, her sandwich forgotten. “That’s insane.”

  Agent Terry smiled, a trifle scary. “That’s why I want in. We’re really going to stick it to those bastards, and I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. I’m sure you’ll be in on it. Payback. I want some, too. Can you help?”

  Elizabeth looked at Terry for a long moment. Then she seemed to reach some sort of decision—or at least some sort of terminus. “Of course. I’ll insist that you come along.”

  “Great!” Terry said. “We’ll make a good team.”

  “Of course we will,” Elizabeth said blankly. “I need to get back to work. You will excuse me, won’t you?

  “Sure,” Terry replied, still smiling. “Thanks for your time.”

  “No problem.”

  Stephanie sat at the picnic table and finished her sandwich as she watched Agent Susan hurry back to her office across the street. Once she was inside, Abe ambled over from where he’d been standing, feeding the pigeons, and sat down across from Stephanie.

  “She buy it?” he asked.

  “The whole thing,” she replied with confidence. “We’re in.”

  “Good work.” He glanced down at Elizabeth’s barely-touched sandwich.

  “I wouldn’t eat that,” Stephanie advised.

  Abe nodded grimly. “Cooties.”

  Late that afternoon, around four o’clock, Agent Nancy parked her rental sedan just up from the ONI headquarters and started keeping watch. Across the street, Vic nodded to her from a parked car, then turned the key and drove away. Vic and Abe had swapped off keeping watch from lunch until now, just in case, but Cell N was taking over at this point, since it was almost Agent Susan’s normal time to leave work. Nancy’s partners, Nick and Nolan, were in two other cars a couple blocks away, ready to pull a three-car alternating tail on Susan.

  Although Cell N was a functional cell within Delta Green, they didn’t see a lot of action. Technically, Nick and Nolan were more Nancy’s handlers than her partners, and Nancy’s role was generally that of a consultant rather than an active agent. But Alphonse’s meticulous policy of compartmentalization meant that since Nancy had come in and learned all about this op, Alphonse would rather use her cell in tandem with Cell T instead of bringing yet another cell into the situation. As it was, Cells N, S, and T were all involved; Alphonse wasn’t happy with the size of this op, and he was determined to keep it as tight as could be.

  Agent Nancy had two handlers instead of partners because she wasn’t human. Not anymore. She used to be Debra Constance, an FBI forensic psychologist, but an unfortunate encounter with an old friend had destroyed her life—and her humanity. He had turned her into a horrific creature with a hunger for human flesh, a monstrous humanoid with hooved feet and terrible jaws, like something from a childhood nightmare. Without Delta Green, she would have gone mad. Instead, she came to study her condition with a clinical fascination, and eventually discovered that she had other abilities besides superhuman strength and a physiological inability to vomit. She could access the memories of corpses whose brains she’d eaten, and even trick those around her into seeing an illusionary body that disguised her own hideous one—as long as the body looked like someone whom she’d devoured, that is.

  Delta Green got her a new identity as Jean Qualls, and she had the ultimate makeover: remade from a petite, sharp-nosed woman with curly brown hair to a tall, voluptuous blond woman fifteen years younger. There were even days when she enjoyed her new appearance, but they were outnumbered by the many mirrors she’d smashed and broken in the throes of her ongoing supernatural identity crisis. Debra Constance was dead, after all—dead and buried, since she could never again look like her old self; even her fingerprints were altered beyond recognition by the terrible transformation.

  As “Jean Qualls” she attended Debra’s funeral, posing as an emotional co-worker. She cried a river, embracing Debra’s mom and dad, her ex-husband, and her friends, leaving the funeral party unsettled; her mom later said, unknowing, that it really was like Debra was there to say goodbye to them all. She would never know how right she was.

  Jean’s unusual situation meant she had no real-world friends outside of Delta Green. In consequence, she spent a great deal of time on the internet, hiding behind yet another false identity. As “Sarah Jackson,” who appeared to be posted to the U.S. Embassy in Sri Lanka, she was a frequent contributor to web pages and newsgroups related to her enduring passion, Star Trek.

  Under her new identity, she was re-employed by the FBI as a consultant. She worked from home in a house pa
id for by DG, with a handler either present in a spare bedroom or a phone call away, ready to retrieve her strange meals from a morgue run by a DG-friendly when the cravings came—and, secretly, to put her down if she ever lost her hold on her human identity. Jean spent her spare time researching her condition, working with several DG-friendlies to explore what had happened and, maybe, someday find a cure. Meanwhile, Debra Constance/Jean Qualls/Sarah Jackson/Agent Nancy made the best of a very, very bad lot and occasionally had trouble remembering who she was and how she’d come to be in this situation.

  Of course, her abilities made her of immense value to Delta Green. She could change her appearance with a thought (albeit from a limited palette of devoured corpses) and she could read the minds of the dead. She was also incredibly strong and a powerful fighter, though Alphonse was rarely willing to risk his star resource in that way.

  Alphonse had summoned Jean the night that Agent Stan had shown up and bled out. Once the scene was secure, Jean had feasted on Stan’s brain tissue, perversely grateful for the opportunity to sate her inhuman hunger. From the dead man’s memories, she was able to reconstruct the story of the fate that had befallen Cell S, and brief Alphonse on what he needed to know to continue the op. Jean’s status was a secret known to few members of Delta Green; Cells S & T had no idea as to her nature or abilities, and Alphonse wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could.

  Jean sat in the car, reflecting on her strange, sad lot in life—until Agent Susan emerged from the ONI building. She made a beeline for her car in the staff parking lot and quickly tore out and onto the street. Jean cranked the ignition and followed her, signaling her partners by encrypted cell phone that it was time to move. Soon, three sedans followed Agent Nancy at irregular distances as she drove rapidly towards home.

  The principle of the three-car alternating tail was a simple one. With the target identified, three agents in three cars would follow her—but only one would keep her in sight at a time. That “chase” car would keep relatively close, a few cars behind, while the other two would drop back out of sight. At irregular intervals, one of the backup cars would take the chase position, closing in while the former chase car dropped back. (All three stayed in touch via encrypted cell phones.) This cut the chances that the target would make the tail, and even allowed one car to visibly abandon the tail entirely if the target seemed to be suspicious. Under different circumstances, Delta Green might choose to place a microtransmitter on the target car, allowing for simple electronic tailing. But given the evident resources and sophistication of Shasta’s kidnappers, Alphonse had ruled against any form of technical surveillance; they’d do it the old-fashioned way.

  Agents Nick and Nolan had more experience at this sort of espionage tradecraft than Nancy did; they had formerly worked as field agents for the DEA and the FBI respectively, and tailing was routine to them. Nancy, on the other hand, had been an FBI analyst with little more than basic training in fieldwork, but she understood the principles of the procedure. And unlike her handlers, she could change her appearance in the blink of an eye, cutting the chance of being made down dramatically—as long as no one was looking at her when she made the change.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Agent Susan arrived at her condo in the D.C. suburb of Oxon Hill. Her building was well secured, with a gated underground parking garage that required a passcode to access. She pulled into the garage and disappeared from sight, just as Agent Nolan drove by slowly, talking on his cell phone.

  “Okay, she’s inside.”

  “Roger that,” Abe said quietly, looking through a tiny pair of binoculars. “Nothing doing here for the last hour. Tonya has op control.” Abe had driven over to Susan’s condo after Vic relieved him at the ONI a few hours earlier. He’d been keeping an eye on the place to see if anyone showed up who might be waiting for Susan, but all the arrivals looked routine. He was sitting in a bagel shop across the street and to the south a few doors, with a clear view of the condo and the parking garage. Vic was out of sight in a bar two blocks away, reading her Murakami novel and listening to the conference call through a small earpiece that ran to the cell phone in her jacket.

  Agents Nick and Nancy arrived a few minutes apart, and both found parking spaces a few blocks from the condo. They fed the meters and sat in their cars, listening and waiting. Agent Nolan stayed on the move, driving at normal speeds in irregular patterns through the neighborhood.

  Fifteen minutes went by uneventfully. Abe and Vic swapped places, since Abe had been sitting in the bagel shop for quite a while now. Vic chose a street café north of the condo, and once she was seated with her book and a skinny tall half-caf latté, Abe yawned and stretched, then ambled out of the shop with a sack of bagels and headed off down the street towards his car. Nolan parked his car and Nick took up the aimless circling.

  Stephanie waited in a motel room, pacing and listening to the conference call. Alphonse had kept her out of the tail so she wouldn’t be made by Susan, and it was driving her crazy.

  “Heads up,” Vic said suddenly. The other five agents on the call perked up. “Dark blue sedan in the waiting zone. Driver plus two, all male, suits, look like pros. The two are getting out. They’re at the front door. Reading the roster. Using the intercom. Nick, get over here. This looks good.” Agent Nick began driving back towards the condo. The two men stood waiting at the door. Their driver sat in the car, engine running.

  “It’s Susan!”

  Agent Susan came out and spoke briefly with the two men. Then all three got in the car.

  Abe, Nancy, and Nolan all started their cars and began pulling out into the streets. Nick was at a stop sign one block down from the condo, watching the blue sedan intently through binoculars. “Roger that. Late-model Ford Taurus, dark blue, Maryland license plate DX9 138. Four occupants including target.”

  “I’m leaving the café,” Vic said. “Nick, you’ve got op control.”

  “Roger Tonya,” Nick said, putting down the binoculars and moving into the intersection slowly. “They’re northbound. I’m on chase. Cell N, fall in behind me. Cell T, get moving northbound but stay clear. Nancy, you’re next chase.”

  The sedan drove north doing thirty. Nick hung four cars back. Nancy and Nolan were about two blocks behind them, while Abe paralleled them a couple blocks over. Vic was still hustling to her car.

  The staggered procession continued northbound for six blocks, and then the sedan turned northeast.

  “Northeast on Livingston Road. Nancy, you’re chase. I’m going north a block and then cutting over to parallel.”

  “That’s towards the beltway,” Abe cut in.

  “Roger that,” Nick replied. “Cell T, I want you at the on-ramps.”

  “On my way,” Abe confirmed, speeding up rapidly.

  “Nick, I’m just reaching my car now,” Vic said hurriedly as she unlocked the door. “I’ll head northwest and get on one exit back.”

  “Roger. Thomas, hustle.”

  Abe drove swiftly, moving ahead of the target so he could confirm which direction on the highway the target went. He reached the 495 on-ramps in minutes and pulled into a gas station at the intersection. As he came to a stop he took out his binoculars and started scanning the cars.

  “Approaching the beltway,” Nancy reported, tailing the sedan from a distance.

  “Thomas, you got anything yet?” Nick asked.

  Abe whipped the binoculars back and forth. “Nothing . . . still no sign . . .”

  “Shit!” Nancy sputtered. “I’m stuck two blocks back, missed the light.”

  “Thomas, make me happy,” Nick said sternly.

  Abe continued scanning, then spotted the sedan. “Got them! Eastbound highway lane. They’re three cars from the turn.”

  “Roger,” Nick said. “Thomas, you’re on chase. Tonya, status?”

  “Still heading for the on-ramps down here. I’ll get on eastbound and catch up.”

  “Nick, I’m in the turn lane,” Abe said. “Target on the on-ra
mp. Eastbound confirmed.”

  “Right behind you, Thomas,” Nancy said.

  “I’m coming in, too,” Nick confirmed. “Nolan, you’re next chase.”

  Soon, all five agents were on the beltway. Vic was unable to catch up—rush-hour traffic slowed things down considerably, keeping her a mile or so behind the pursuit. It also made swapping chase much more difficult; they were only able to do so twice during the drive. Eventually, the target signaled for a turn: exit 16 to Bountin, another suburban community in the wake of D.C.

  “Target exiting to Bountin,” Nancy said.

  “Nancy, skip it and backtrack from the next exit so they don’t make you,” Nick said. “The rest of you, close in and get off at Bountin. We won’t have long to re-establish the tail after Nancy breaks off.”

  Nick, Nolan, and Abe were fairly close together, and all exited in sight of each other. Vic was still lagging in rush-hour traffic, and Nancy would have to catch up. They were down to a three-unit tail.

  “I’m on chase,” Nick said as he came down the on-ramp in the lead. He looked around at the intersection and cursed silently. “Lost them! I’m east. Nolan, you take north and Thomas south.” The three headed off rapidly in different directions and looked for the target.

  Precious moments ticked by. Finally, Nolan spotted the sedan two blocks ahead.

  “Got him on Montgomery, northbound,” he reported.

  “Roger, you’re on chase. Catch-up time, everybody.”

  Vic neared the exit and turned off, heading northbound from the intersection. Traffic was lighter here and she quickly caught up to Nolan. “I’ve got visual,” she reported.

  “Outstanding,” Nick said. “You’re next chase, Tonya.”

  Everyone caught up within a few minutes, and once again they had a five-car tail going. The target made several turns, eventually reaching a light-industrial and office area on the outskirts of the suburb. Vic took chase.

  “Target turning south on Marginal Way,” Vic said. “Dead end! Do not follow, repeat, do not follow.”