by Sussman, Ben
“Let me make some inquiries,” the official said.
The next day, Worth was summoned to the office again.
“Something is open in Colorado Springs,” the same man told him. “Interested?”
“Yes, sir,” Worth replied. Anything to get out of here, he thought.
“You’ll fly out in two days. Be ready.”
Jason found himself staring at the snow-dusted Rocky Mountains less than forty-eight hours later, heading deep inside their belly. He was led through a warren of offices, his leg throbbing with the effort to keep up, until he was asked to wait in a glassed-in conference room. He watched as uniformed men and women passed, along with casually dressed office workers. Each time someone in an officer’s uniform approached the door, he straightened in anticipation of their entering, only to see them keep moving. It’s why he was so caught off-guard when a diminutive Asian woman who looked barely older than him pushed through the door.
“Specialist Jason Worth,” the woman said, flipping through a manila folder in her hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, rising out of his chair with practiced Southern courtesy.
“You can sit down. And you don’t have to call me ma’am.”
“Yes-” replied Worth, stopping before saying “ma’am” again and finding himself thoroughly confused.
“You’re damaged goods.”
“Excuse me?” Anger colored Worth’s cheeks.
“Your experience,” the woman replied, tapping the folder. “You tried to save a man’s life by disobeying orders and so the Army is looking to put you somewhere where you won’t cause any trouble.”
Worth stared, nonplussed.
The woman continued. “Despite the objections of the other members of the unit, you were even denied a purple heart. Words they used to describe you include ‘smart’, ‘brave’ and ‘loyal’.”
“How do you know all this?” Worth finally managed to ask.
“Oh. I hacked into all confidential emails that included your name,” she answered as if it were the most logical thing in the world.
“I see.” He stood on unsteady legs. “Well, thank you for your time.”
It was her turn to look confused. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Back home, I guess.”
“Why? I want to hire you.”
“You what?” Worth sat back down, completely flummoxed.
“Hire you. You’re exactly what I need. Someone who values loyalty but is not the biggest fan of the system he resides in. I’d say that’s you, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I would.”
“Fine,” she said, rising to indicate the meeting was finished. “You can start next week as my direct report. Any questions?”
“Just one.”
She looked askance at him.
“Your name, ma’am.”
“Sorry,” she said, extending her hand for a shake. “I’m Emma Hosobuchi.”
Worth was at Emma’s office, facing her firmly shut door. He knocked softly. Getting no answer, he knocked again.
“Ms. Hosobuchi, it’s me,” he said loudly. There was a muffled shuffling before the door clicked open. Emma ushered him inside before quickly shutting the door behind him.
“Tell me you’ve got good news,” she practically begged.
“Afraid not, ma’am.”
Emma sighed and headed back to her desk chair, sinking down into it. On her desk were three laptops scrolling endless lines of code. Her bloodshot eyes roved back and forth between them.
Worth had never seen her like this. The woman he usually admired for her cool and calm demeanor was clearly coming apart at the seams.
“Well? Talk,” she barked at him.
“FALCON is still down.” She gave him a look that said, ‘no duh.’ He plunged on, “I don’t think Griggs knows about it. Yet.”
“That’s good, at least.”
Worth nodded. “But somebody else does.”
“Who?”
“Not sure who’s going to be first but from the chatter I’ve seen, a whole bunch of unfriendlies.”
Emma sat back, processing what Worth just told her. She knew that the United States defense systems were a favorite target of attack for hackers around the world. Thousands of threats from China, North Korea, the Middle East and other various shadowy individuals occurred each hour. Unbeknownst to the citizens that worked, slept and played in America, they were only a few keystrokes away from obliteration.
“Unfriendlies,” Emma whispered, half to herself.
“They’re waiting until the system goes down completely. Then we’ll be vulnerable. It will only be a matter of time before they figure out how it’s all linked together. And then…”
Worth didn’t have to finish the rest of the sentence. Emma knew what he was going to say.
Complete annihilation of the West Coast.
Thirty
Matt could feel his brain cracking inside his skull. The world went fuzzy at the edges of his vision and he stumbled towards the brick wall at his side. His hand flailed out to catch on to it, but instead only slowed him on his descent to the pavement.
“Gone,” he mumbled. “He’s gone.”
Somewhere far away, his name was being called.
“I’m sorry,” Matt whispered. “I’m so sorry, Katie.”
And then she was there, stroking his head, saying his name. Matt allowed himself to feel the warmth of her touch, lose himself in it. But when he looked up, he was brought back to reality.
Ashley stared back at him.
“Matt, can you hear me now?” her lips were saying.
“I promised her,” he said with hushed ferocity. “I promised her I would never let anything happen to him. And now look. Look what I’ve done.”
“Listen to me,” she replied sternly, forcing his chin back up to lock eyes with him. “You did not do anything.” She tapped the button camera. “He did all of this. You hear that, asshole?” she said loudly before helping Matt back up to his feet. “We’re going to go find Luke.”
Matt nodded, but could not stop himself from wondering, “How?”
“With my help,” a voice answered from the car. It was Detective Larson standing against the Porsche’s side, hands still in his shackles. “I saw the direction he went in.”
“You’re going to help me?” Matt asked with skepticism. “An hour ago you wanted to arrest me.”
Larsen shrugged. “Past is the past. Whether it’s an hour or a year.” He lumbered towards Matt, lowering his voice. “I know what it’s like to lose your child. I’m not going to let that happen to someone on my watch. No matter what they’ve done to protect them.” He leaned forward, surprising Matt. His mouth went close to Matt’s empty ear and whispered, “Luke told me what’s going on.” He took a step back, holding his cuffed hands out in front of him.
Matt looked to Ashley, who nodded her consent. Reaching into his pocket, Matt withdrew Larsen’s key ring. He hesitated. Was he about to really do this? His mind reached back to when Larsen and the rest of the police had the Wertheimer Building surrounded. Matt had made Larsen promise that no one would shoot if he came out with his hands up.
“You have my word,” he recalled the detective saying without hesitation. He remembered trusting that word implicitly on gut instinct. Matt had honed his internal lie detector in the heat of battle and the fire of Los Angeles real estate negotiations. Searching for it now, he found no alarm bells going off.
He swiftly reached forward and unlocked the cuffs, letting them tumble off on to the ground.
John was now in his ear, “Weatherly, we have a schedule to keep. I do not know what you think you are doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, John.”
“Wait a second,” John said, the faintest tremor in his voice. For the first time, Matt detected a note of emotion in it instead of the cold blank slate that it typically was. “You cannot do this. If you do, it will mean more death, do you unders
tand?
Matt remained silent, mind whirling.
“Leaving is not an option. You go, I start killing one person every fifteen minutes you are gone. No matter who they are. A homeless man on the street, a mom crossing to her-”
Larsen interrupted John’s voice. “Matt, if you have a chance of finding Luke, we have to go now.”
Matt’s jaw clenched. He knew that John’s threats were not idle. He had seen the killer’s handiwork enough for one night. Yet he kept coming back to the same conclusion: he had to save Luke.
He ripped the earpiece out and tossed it to the side. His fingers found the button camera on his shirt which he ripped out. Crushing it beneath his heel, he stepped forward to meet Larsen and Ashley who were already at the mouth of the alley.
“Alright, Detective Larsen,” Matt said. “You’re in charge now.”
Larsen nodded his understanding. “Let’s go find your son.”
Thirty-One
Emma rarely touched alcohol. When she did, she found herself lightheaded after one beer and slurring her words after two. Yet, as she hurried to the office kitchen, she could not help but wish she had some sort of mind-altering beverage to quench her thirst. She realized she needed a clear head more than ever right now but there was something seductive about being lost in the blissful unknown, even if the relief was only short-lived. Shaking the ridiculous notion off, she entered through the kitchen doorway and froze in her tracks.
General Griggs waited, placidly stirring a cup of coffee. His eyes bored into hers.
“Evening, Hosobuchi,” he said casually.
“General,” she nodded brusquely before moving to pass by. She opened the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of water. As she took a sip, she avoided the general’s probing gaze.
“Interesting night,” Griggs continued when Emma lowered the bottle.
“No more than usual,” she replied. Could he hear the panic she felt was so obvious in her voice? She moved to walk around him but Griggs stepped in her path.
“Did I ever tell you about Private Lemley, a guy I had under my command in Somalia?”
“I’m really busy tonight, General Griggs. No time for old war stories. So if you’ll excuse me-”
His hand shot out to clasp Emma’s forearm in an iron grip. The pressure was not painful but was strong enough for her to know that he could snap it if he desired. “Stay a minute. I think you’ll appreciate this ‘old war story’.”
Emma glanced up from her pinched arm to Griggs’ frosty eyes. She nodded her assent with gritted teeth and the pressure slacked slightly.
“Lemley came from Virginia. His father was some bigshot lobbyist on the Hill, mostly for military contractors. Smart kid. Got accepted to Georgetown. But his father wanted him to see some action first before heading out into the world. Also thought it would be good for at least one of the Lemleys to serve since nobody else in the family had.”
“Is there a point to this story, General?” Emma feigned annoyance.
“Just wait a minute. I’m getting there.” Griggs took a sip of coffee while still keeping Emma rooted to the floor with his other hand. “Lemley did as he was told but he never liked being under command. Like I said, he was smart. Problem was, he thought he was smarter than me. Had trouble listening when I talked. In Somalia, we were up against some nasty sandrats. Al Queda mostly. I was telling my men that we had to go around a certain area because, according to my keen eye, it had already been compromised by the enemy and there was no sense trying to push through. Lemley, though, insisted that I couldn’t be sure of such a thing. There were no real facts to back it up. And he was right, partly. It was my experience and gut that was telling me.”
Emma stared at the general, unsure of where this was going.
“The kid says we should go through anyway,” Griggs continued. “I told him that if he was so sure, he should just go ahead and start walking. So he did. Cocky grin, rifle slung over his shoulder. Off he went.” Griggs paused for another sip from his cup. “He made it about twenty feet before his legs got blown off by a mine.”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat.
“I made my way over to him. Poor bastard was still alive. Barely. When I told him he didn’t want to live this way, it was the first time he actually listened to me. He nodded and I put one clean shot through his forehead.” He released her arm and rose it up to form the shape of a gun, his forefinger mimicking the shot towards Emma’s head.
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”
Griggs gave a half-grin and shook his head. “You missed the point like usual, Hosobuchi. I don’t have to threaten people like you. Sooner or later, you end up killing yourselves just fine when you don’t listen to me.”
Emma pushed by him and was nearly out the door when she heard him say, “I warned everyone about FALCON and what a bad idea it was.”
Emma spun to face him. “Whatever you think you know, General, you’re wrong.”
Griggs met her stare for a beat before turning away. “You’re dismissed.”
For the first time that evening, Emma laughed. “I don’t report to you. That’s the concept you never seem to grasp.” With that, she turned on her heels and exited. When she had rounded the corner and was sure she was out of Griggs’ line of sight, her body erupted in shakes. Reaching out, she steadied herself against the wall. Questions crashed into her in rapid succession.
Could he know FALCON is almost down? Was he threatening me? How long do I have before-
“Everything OK, Emma?”
Emma jumped at the sound of her name, whirling around to find Mike Saunders standing behind her.
She hesitated before answering. Mike had been her confidant in the past. Should he be now? Emma had been transferred out from under his command long ago. Several months ago, he had taken a few weeks of personal leave and had barely spoken to her upon his return. Even still, in the most technical of terms, she should have already told him about the breach of FALCON. Events were happening so quickly, though, that the thought had honestly not even occurred to her.
“Emma? I asked if you were OK,” he said again, studying her face. There was an edge to his voice that Emma had not heard before. She felt his eyes probing her before he lowered his voice to ask, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
If she were going to bring him into her confidence, now was the time. “No,” she finally answered. “I’m fine. I thought you weren’t working tonight?”
“Paperwork,” he replied. He was about to say something further when Jason Worth appeared at Emma’s side.
“Ms. Hosobuchi?” Worth said.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Can we speak privately?” Worth cut his eyes towards Mike.
“Of course. Excuse me, Mike.” Emma straightened and headed back towards her office, Worth on her heels. She could feel Mike’s gaze lingering on her. In the past when that happened, it made her feel flustered. Now, it only made her nervous. She entered her office and stepped towards the desk, seeing that several new warnings had popped up on her computer screens. “What do you need, Worth?” she asked, focusing her attention on the screens.
“We have a mole in our organization, ma’am.”
A mole. Emma knew he was right instantly. It was the only possible answer to the question of “how” that had been nagging her all night. She was about to ask Worth whom he suspected when she heard the unmistakable click of a safety being thumbed off of a gun. She looked up to find herself staring down the barrel of Worth’s sidearm.
“I think it’s you,” he said.
Thirty-Two
The Hayabusa pulsed through the streets in a streak of black. Its rider was bent over the handlebars and the wheels in his head were spinning just as quickly as those beneath him. As his jacket pocket buzzed with what was sure to be another text message from his employer, John pulled to the quiet side of an empty street.
Weatherly had gone AWOL. John could still hardly gr
asp this new development but forced himself to wrap his mind around it. It made perfect sense, of course. John had used the man’s son as a pawn in order to get him to do exactly what he wanted. Yet, the pawn had made its own unanticipated move to a square John had not foreseen. Weatherly simply followed.
John removed his helmet to emit a heavy sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. Something was coursing through him that had not been there for a very long time – the ebb and flow of emotion. John had spent so many years pushing down his anger and frustration that when the feelings now crept in, it felt as if he had ingested a foreign drug.
His pocket buzzed again.
He quickly withdrew the phone, glancing at its screen. Four messages repeated themselves: are we on schedule???
Without thinking any further about it, John simply typed ‘yes’ before hitting the send button. He knew he would now have to make that simple word into a reality.
Voices called his attention, bouncing off of the pavement to his ears. He turned to see a group of young hipsters heading to a pair of Mini Coopers parked nearby. Getting his bearings, John realized that he was in a more populated area of Hollywood. It was nearing midnight. Restaurants and bars would be closing now, their occupants spilling out into the streets.
Unsafe. It was time to move.
“Hey, man.” John found himself looking at the bloodshot eyes of an oily twentysomething with dirty blonde hair and a matching scraggly goatee. In one quick glance, John took in the ripped clothes, the track marks on the vagrant’s arms and the wrinkled paper Starbucks cup in his hand. It was not difficult to determine his homeless status. “That’s a nice bike,” the man offered.
John ignored him, reaching for the handlebars. The Starbucks cup appeared a few inches from his face.
“Spare change?” the man said, shaking the cup to punctuate the request with a clink of coins. The noise rang in John’s ears, echoing against the thoughts ping-ponging through his head. The sound rose up to consume him as it went on.
And suddenly, John snapped.
His hand shot out and clasped the man’s throat. As his victim dropped the cup of coins, his hands fumbling weakly in defense, John tightened his grip. He felt the windpipe crush beneath his fingers and watched his victim slump lifelessly. Yet, even then he did not stop. Pushing the man down on to the sidewalk, John rammed the heel of his hand into his face again and again until all that remained was an unrecognizable mess of blood and cartilage. Suddenly, he was gripped by a pain in his chest.
