by Andy Straka
“Yet they let you go.”
“Yes.”
Something still wasn’t making sense.
“And they came after you and not after me,” he said.
She pursed her lips and let out a deep breath, locking eyes with him before she spoke. “They’re trying to recruit me.”
“Recruit you? For what?”
“Another job.”
“What kind of job?”
Raina tented her fingers on top of her lap. “It kind of defies description. I really can’t tell you any more than that. There’s no need for you to get dragged into this any more than you have to.”
“Are you kidding? I’m already dragged into it whatever you’re talking about. We both are. We’re trying to take down one of the biggest media honchos in the country and we’re sitting here in a tiny bathroom with towels stuffed under the door. How do you know Kurn didn’t get wind of our plan and sic these people on you?”
“I don’t. But if he did, then he’s got a lot more pull than we even imagined.”
Tye leaned back against the edge of the sink, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”
He wasn’t surprised Homeland, if they knew anything at all about what he and Raina had been up to, might have a keen interest in what they were doing. It explained a lot. Raina was probably telling him the truth–most of it, at least.
“We need to talk to Williamson,” he said.
“Okay. But wait...”
“What?”
“Are you so sure we can trust him?”
He looked at her for a moment. “I’m not so sure I can trust anybody. What about you?”
“Listen, Tye. You can trust me. I didn’t have to tell you everything I just told you about what’s going on between Homeland and me. I’m playing it straight with you.”
“And also withholding information.”
“I didn’t have to tell you that either. But I did.”
He nodded. They were still in the fight together. At least for now.
“We still have to talk to Williamson. He’s the one who set us up with all of this equipment and your little miniaturized Air Force.”
“You think the phones he gave us are still secure?”
“I noticed they didn’t take yours yesterday when you disappeared. But still...we’ll use mine.”
He pulled the device from his pocket and dialed the number.
Williamson answered right away. Tye put him on the phone’s speaker, explained where they were and that he and Raina had been having a discussion.
“What do you need?” the major asked.
“We’ve got a problem,” Tye told him, looking at Raina.
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“Question, Major. Are you playing us?”
“Say again?”
“Are you playing us?”
“Playing you? What? No. Why would I do that?”
Raina gave Williamson the same basic rundown of her encounter with Homeland Security she’d given Tye. Williamson grew increasingly quiet the more she told him. The major waited until she was finished speaking before saying anything else. It was difficult to read his reaction over the phone.
“Is that it?” the man said finally.
“Yes,” Raina said. “That’s what happened.”
“You said the individual with whom you spoke seemed to be aware of your activities with Mr. Palmer and the mini UAVs.”
“Yes.”
“Did he offer any details?”
“No.”
“Did you offer him any details?”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Good. And you don’t know where you stand now with him?”
“No. Like I said, something happened.”
“But you said they were trying to recruit you for something.”
“Yes. I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t make the cut. What is he after?”
“He was fishing. I think I’m acquainted with the individual you’re referring to.”
“What do you mean?” Raina asked. “You know him?”
“We’ve never met, but I know who he is.”
Tye interrupted. “What’s this all about, Williamson? Are you and whoever else we’re supposed to be working with on the up-and-up or not?”
Williamson was silent for a moment. “That depends on what you mean by on the up-and-up,” he said finally.
“Great. That’s comforting.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more right now, but look, when I first came to you with the tip about Kurn and everything that happened...You know about our mission and you know about the risks”
“Yeah. But if Homeland is snooping around then we might all be compromised.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Raina asked.
“Just that the federal government and our national security apparatus are complex. I don’t need to tell either of you that. And groups with competing interests can sometimes collide with one another. Sometimes worse.”
“Worse? How worse?”
“All I can tell you for certain is that a lot’s going right now, and there are forces at play with differing agendas.”
“Will the mission with Kurn have an impact on that?”
Williamson seemed to hesitate. “Quite possibly.”
“I checked out the guy who’s been talking to me. He definitely works for Homeland.”
“I’ve no doubt he does. At least nominally. But you and I both know how things look on a piece of paper or in official department records usually varies quite a bit from the reality on the ground.”
“Are you saying we may be caught up in some kind of turf war and that’s why they’re trying to recruit me?”
“I’ve got a feeling this is about something much bigger than just that,” the major said.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
15
Frum University was a top-ranked, private liberal arts school with Division I athletics and hundreds of millions of dollars in federal research grants, among many other things. It didn’t hurt that the campus was situated within a stone’s throw of the nation’s capital beltway.
The sun angled lower in the sky as Tye walked across the University Commons in the waning afternoon light. He stopped for a moment to watch a gaggle of Smurfs, Angry Birds, and princesses–kids in their costumes–working some of the dorms for early trick or treating.
Tye wasn’t that familiar with the school. He probably never could have gained admission, let alone have afforded the tuition. He wondered if undergraduates giving out candy had become a Halloween tradition. Regardless, the college’s administration must have supported it. Such gestures must have made for good “town-and-gown” relations–the students, from mostly wealthy backgrounds and from out-of-state, connecting with the locals in a way that made up for noisy wee hours partying that no doubt created problems with their neighbors.
The weather was especially nice for trick-or-treaters this year, too, with the temperature hovering near the sixty-five degree mark, warm for the end of October. Judging by the number of kids in evidence, parents must have liked bringing their kids on campus for the annual candy orgy too, maybe because they could get the bulk of their night’s work done all in one place and before dark.
“Did you bring your bag for treats?” Raina teased him through his hidden earphone.
“Wish I did,” he said.
He wondered what the parents with their trick-or-treaters would think if they knew a nearly invisible watch bird was keeping an eye on their every move overhead. Raina was camped out a block from campus with her computers and joysticks in a different van they’d rented thanks to Williamson’s seemingly unlimited budget. They were still waiting to hear back from Williamson about Raina’s encounters with Homeland. According to Raina, there’d been no more contacts from her incongruously benevolent Homeland captors either, so they were still all syste
ms go with their plan.
It had taken the better part of the day to set things up. Raina never complained, even when helping as best she could with the grunt work of moving the computers. What made her so beautiful, Tye realized, wasn’t just her figure or face, attractive as they were despite the scars. It was something else–deep, dark, and dangerous, burning within her soul. Tye wished he could identify its source. He was afraid he might never get near it, let alone understand it. She’d pitched right in and pulled her weight when it came to setting up the van and all of her equipment.
Tye was on his way to try to meet Derek Kurn face-to face before the party. Since the younger Kurn was the current president of his fraternity chapter, Tye wanted Derek to feel comfortable with him so no suspicions would be raised later. The idea of setting someone up for a takedown made Tye uncomfortable, but he realized he better get used to it if he were going to be effective at this line of work.
“Should I wear a costume for the party later?” he asked Raina through his hidden mike.
“Probably. Something minimal. Although you look scary enough as it is.”
He smiled before pushing off again. He had seen a poster on the student union bulletin board about the Halloween party at Zeta Phi. It was bound to be a big blowout since the date this year fell on a Thursday, which most of the students treated as the start of a long weekend. One of the things that amazed him in going back to college was how few students actually attended class on a regular basis anymore, especially in the big lecture courses. Unless you were an engineering geek or pre-med, a lot of students considered their Friday classes mostly optional. They’d pick up whatever information they needed or catch the lecture online.
He moved beyond the Commons dormitories and along a sidewalk between a pair of newer academic buildings. The sun was less intense here and a chill swept through him. He was glad he’d worn a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, which didn’t include the hockey jersey and goalie’s glove he was hoping to pass off as a costume later for the party. It would turn quickly colder as darkness approached. At the end of the long, tree-lined walkway, he started down a stairwell that led to a broad avenue that cut through the center of the small college town. He passed a harried mother leading two young children up the stairs in the direction of the candy gorging fray on the Commons, one dressed as a bumblebee, the other, slightly older, as a ninja.
The ninja reminded him of a woman wearing a burka he’d encountered on a street during his first Iraqi deployment. Most Iraqi women wore abayas instead of burkas. Abayas at least allowed for the entirety of the face to be seen. But the woman Tye had encountered that afternoon was dressed in full burka, and he couldn’t help but feel alarmed at the sight of her. Suicide bombers wearing burkas to disguise their deadly cargo had only recently attacked a mosque in the region, and Tye was momentarily separated from his patrol and feeling vulnerable.
He had reflexively disengaged the safety on his M4 Carbine. He tried to read the woman’s eyes as they neared one another, but she quickly averted her gaze. Out of fear? Out of anger or hatred?
He could never say for sure.
In any event, he’d moved safely past the woman that day without incident. He never would’ve thought something as innocuous as a child’s play mask could dredge up such a memory years later and thousands of miles away, but there it was.
At the bottom of the stairs, he almost bumped into a couple of coeds starting to head up the steps with their backpacks. One blonde, one brunette. They had to be at least six or seven years his junior, with lithe bodies, made-up eyes, and dressed to attract. They smiled at him in turn, before moving on up the stairs.
“Let’s stay focused here, Palmer,” Raina chided him.
“I’m focused. I’m focused,” he whispered.
The Zeta Phi house was perched on a corner lot at the end of an otherwise quiet street dotted with only a couple of other fraternities and sororities. The site was a couple of blocks from the center of campus, close enough to be part of the school but also standing independent, an entity unto itself.
Preparations for the party seemed to be in full swing. Three or four guys kicked and tossed a football to one another on the lawn, testing out a makeshift set of goalposts consisting of a clothesline draped between a couple of trees, while a couple of others were attempting to “slack-line” or walk across the same flimsy rope in the latest college fad.
Another group was busy setting up a ping-pong table, sawhorses with long tables holding steel kegs of beer, and huge stereo speakers draped with ghoulish decorations on the patio. From his online photo and what he’d seen in the video, Tye recognized Derek Kurn among the students next to the house. He approached the group.
“Excuse me. Is this Zeta Phi?”
“Yeah.” One of Kurn’s companions answered.
“Heard you’re having a big Halloween party tonight.”
“Yeah. Starts at ten.”
“I’m a transfer student. Was hoping I could crash the party and maybe check out the fraternity.”
“You a Zeta Phi?”
“Not yet.”
They stared at him for a moment.
Derek Kurn, el Presidente himself, stepped forward. He was shorter than Tye but in better physical shape. Biceps bulged from the sleeves of his Polo shirt. “You look a little old for college.” Derek said. In person, he not only looked but sounded like a younger version of his father.
Tye paused for a moment. “I was in the Army, Iraq and Afghanistan,” he said.
Derek nodded. His jaw jutted out to show he was impressed, as did those of several of the others who had stopped whatever they were doing to look. “Cool, man. C’mon ahead then later. We’ll show you around.”
“Sounds good. Thank you.”
“Sweet. See you later then.”
The group went back to their preparations as Tye moved back down the walkway. Mission accomplished; he was no longer a stranger to them.
“That was easy,” Raina said.
Maybe too easy. Derek Kurn might check into his story about being a transfer student, but he was banking on the hope it wouldn’t happen right away. All the really desirable pledges, the new varsity jocks and guys who handled themselves with the right amount of moxie and lack of posing, were no doubt already on Derek’s and his fraternity brothers’ radar screens. What was one more potential pledge coming to a party? Plus, Derek seemed like he had a lot of other things on his mind at the moment. Whether that included another foray into date rape at tonight’s party remained to be seen.
16
Inside the van more than a mile away, Raina stood up to adjust her headset and stretch her arms. One of her little watch birds was giving her trouble, the controls balky and sometimes seeming to skip a beat. She’d be lucky if she could keep the thing flying long enough to get it back to the small base camp they’d established on the roof of a utility shed in a wooded area near their apartments. One of the often unspoken realities of bigger UAVs was that they crashed a lot, compared to other aircraft–even the multi-million-dollar Predators and Reapers the Air Force was flying–and Raina had found her little hover angels and dragonflies to be no exception.
She wondered if Murnell and all his high-tech wonders had made any progress in overcoming this issue, but the Homeland scientist had remained tight-lipped regarding any details about the type of crafts she’d been piloting. A part of her already missed what she’d experienced in the sphere. Manipulating her sometimes flighty, and by comparison archaic, joystick and controls in the back of the van soon became a frustrating experience; she had to work hard to focus on the skills she’d acquired and to maintain her discipline.
She sat back down before her console and watched as Tye walked down the street. He really wasn’t a bad-looking guy. Maybe not as movie-star handsome as Dr. Murnell, but he had a different quality about him–rugged, dependable. She could see that their relationship was going to be complicated no matter where this all went. Sitting back down at her console, she sp
oke into her mike.
“Hey, soldier. You need to hoof it back here. I’m having a few technical challenges.”
“Something critical?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Anyone watching Tye would think he was having a hands-free conversation with someone on his mobile phone.
“All right. No more word from your Homeland buddy?”
“He’s not my buddy, and no, nothing.”
“Maybe that’s good. Maybe they just wanted to check you out and now they’ll leave us alone.”
“Don’t sound stupid.”
“Wishful thinking, that’s all.”
“Does it ever freak you out knowing I’m watching you?”
“A little. But not that much as long as I know it’s only you.”
“You need to sit in this chair a while. I wish you could see what it’s like from the other end.”
“Maybe I will.”
But Raina was thinking not just about what she was seeing on her computer screens in the van but the inside of Murnell’s sphere and the type of virtual reality it created. Was it even real? Had she actually been flying some kind of a miniaturized drone down a street in China the night before? The screen in front of her told her told that it was all too real, and she wondered what Homeland was planning to do with their apparently secret technology. But if it was so secret, why had Murnell allowed her, even welcomed her to work with it, only to let her go when she was done?
She wasn’t working for Homeland. She was no longer even an employee of the federal government, her veteran’s health benefits notwithstanding. Other than Tye, whom could she trust? And a part of her was beginning to wonder if even the soldier who had once saved her life could be compromised. Why hadn’t they heard back yet from Major Williamson?
17
Tye didn’t clue into the guy following him until he was almost back to the van. He’d seen the stocky African American man out of the corner of his eye, walking along behind him on the opposite side of the street when he left the frat house, but he’d paid him no attention. Raina either hadn’t seen him or must have discounted his presence, too. As he rounded the third and final corner, however, he realized the man was still with him; hanging back a little, it seemed, but definitely still there, and Tye had a bad feeling about it. No matter how many high tech gizmos you brought to the party, they couldn’t replace the gut feeling you got from being from being right there on the ground.
