The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  There was no explosion however, the line just picked up, as she kind of expected it too. Reyes would have moved away if it was a bomb. If he knew about it at least. He wasn’t suicidal.

  “Turner?” The voice was familiar, male and sounded a bit rough edged, like a person that habitually growled instead of speaking normally. That could be any of over a hundred people she knew, maybe more. She had a lot of contacts in the military and most of them liked to act tough when they could. It helped them feel like they weren’t perpetually scared out of their minds.

  “This is Turner. Supposedly on a secure line. Go.” Her voice had gone cold and hard, responding to how odd the situation was more than anything else. It was what she did in suspicious situations and hardly noticed it anymore, but the person on the phone did.

  “Fuck Marcia, don’t get all weird on me yet. I haven’t even started to describe how messed up everything is. You’ll want to save something as a fallback position.” The words sounded tired, not joking, to her ear at least.

  “This is Morris. Cal Morris. We have a situation involving some of the old team. It’s bad… We need to meet. They need help and I don’t know who I can trust on this. My mind popped to you and some of the others there, since you still have some connections. I don’t know who to trust.”

  She froze for a moment, not knowing exactly how to respond. It was the lack of information that did it, not that she couldn’t think of a plan. Several came to mind in fact, the best one being hanging up the phone right then and there, and not taking the next call. It wasn’t her problem after all. Except that it might involve the old crew.

  That just meant she had to get more out of the voice on the phone, who claimed to be an old friend. The voice sounded right, but that didn’t mean that much now. Anyone could fake a voice on the phone with a few hours work and the right equipment. She could do it at least, so she had to assume everyone else could too. School kids had the computing power to get it done and a lot of them probably had the brains. It meant being careful about things like that in the modern age.

  “More information. I’m not doing anything based on what’s said in some vague spy novel conversation Cal. First, why don’t you start by proving who you really are?” It wasn’t a perfect plan, of course, not with mind readers and coercers around, but it was better than not asking by a good bit. It would at least narrow the odds that she was just being set up by a stranger.

  The voice on the phone laughed before speaking.

  “Crap, I almost forgot who I was dealing with. Paranoid Marcia. Um, OK, Remember that time I tried to get you to blow me on that training mission? You grabbed my junk and told me “you’ve got a choice, I can rip this thing off now, or you can run down to the stream, wash up, let me blow you… and then I’ll rip it off.” Is that good enough? Or I suppose I could use the password from Lisbon, since that was the last time we worked together.” The voice went soft, almost whispering into her ear.

  “Halcyon.”

  Those were both right, though the first one was a little over the top if he was trying to get her help on something. The kind of thing meant to embarrass her into making a mistake? Possibly. If so then whoever was doing it wasn’t as smart as they thought they were. She wasn’t a prude and was still single, so a bit of dirty talk didn’t do more than get her interest. That could be the point too though, so she’d still need to be careful. Not that she’d ever done anything with Morris. The guy had been an ass the whole time she knew him. The kind of guy that thought that being in shape and having a dick meant she should be putting out, even when they had work to do. Worse, she was pretty sure the guy hadn’t ever really cared for her at all, just making plays for her because she was the only woman around most of the time. Every girl loved to know she was that valued, but there had been a lot of other guys around too, so it had been surprisingly easy to ignore him.

  “Fine. For now at least. Let’s hear enough of the situation to let me understand what’s needed. Sudden offers to meet like this make me uneasy. You haven’t even been sending Christmas cards, so it’s not like we’ve been close.”

  There was silence for a while, and finally the man who claimed to be Cal cleared his throat.

  “Weathers went missing about three weeks ago. At first no one thought much of it. He goes dark about four times a year, working as a security consultant overseas. His wife hadn’t heard of any missions coming up though, so she got in touch with me since we’ve met a few times. That wouldn’t have been an issue, except that over the last seventy-nine hours I’ve gotten reports of two others from the old unit vanishing. Some of them were still loosely in the business, but Harpo just runs an ice-cream shop in Florida, and Mic does computer repair in New York. Both legit businesses as far as I can tell. Not guys that would just go missing for the most part. Not like this. If it was just one of them it might make sense, or just be a camping trip or whatever, but this many says something to me. I don’t know, I might just be paranoid myself. It just doesn’t feel right to me.”

  Taking a few seconds to think Marcia finally nodded a little, making a point of walking away from Reyes so he couldn’t easily hear what she was saying. That didn’t mean no one was spying on her, just that it would take more work to do it. She liked the agent and he’d been in the old unit, but that only went so far… and with things getting strange, she needed to pay attention, didn’t she? Like figuring out why Reyes had been contacted by “a friend”, instead of her just being called directly. Cal Morris was closer to him than her by a long shot, sure, but they’d all been connected at one time. It meant he could call if he needed to. It seemed convoluted to her. Get too complicated and you made mistakes. It was in the training manuals for almost everything. CIA, NSA, Special Forces and fast food restaurants employee information, it didn’t matter, everyone knew not to try and get fancy if you didn’t have too.

  “All right. What do you need from me? I know you want to save something for the meet, but give me some mission specs so I know what to bring. I swear though, if this is just about trying to score with me, you better have something better than a half assed mystery for me Cal. Dinner and a movie at least… and no action flicks. I’ve had enough of that kind of crap to last a lifetime.” She tried to sound light and playful and did it decently well, though the whole thing didn’t feel right to her.

  Cal was right. Harpo had been well and truly out of the life for a long time as far as she knew. No special ops work, no spying that she knew of. Just a high end ice cream parlor for tourists. Mic did the occasional bit of off the books computer related stuff to make some extra cash around the holidays, but neither of them should have gone dark like that. Not on purpose. Someone would have to know where they were. If they were alive at least.

  The harsh voice spoke again, using low tones.

  “I don’t know what resources you have right now, but this… Could be an op. I know your personal situation, being with the IPB, and I have more data than I’ll give even over an encrypted line, but… Can you get players for us? This could get dirty fast and we need to be running silent. We need bodies and solid players. No amateurs if possible.”

  Anything they did involving her would have to be done quietly, she knew. As the Deputy Director of the IPB she could bring a lot of power to bear on anything she wanted, for a short period of time. Enough that army’s would soil themselves if they knew she was coming for them if they had half a brain. It meant she was watched very closely, twenty-four hours a day, so if she wanted to help her old buddies it wouldn’t be some minor thing for her. She needed a plan that wouldn’t look too obvious or the whole thing could be stopped before she got ten feet out the front door.

  “Where’s the location?” Marcia knew she didn’t have to say more than that. The meet would be someplace relatively secure, but she just needed to be in about the right place, since it would change at least two or three times before it actually happened. She knew that because that was her personal plan for such situation. If Cal wasn’t goi
ng to insist on at least the same, he was losing it. That or he really didn’t think anyone would be watching them.

  “Can you get to Miami, in… Fifteen hours?”

  That would be tight, but something could be thrown together, she thought. More time would be better though. Especially if she needed to bring a team in with her. The IPB had some good people, but there were only a few of them that she’d drag in to personal business like this seemed to be. It was going to take some juggling to work out how to get them all into play though.

  “I need a full day. I’ll hurry. Anyplace in particular, or do you think you can locate me there? We won’t be that low key, coming in. We can’t be, not the crew from here. Nature of the beast.” A group of Infected IPB agents got attention anymore when they traveled. Especially if she had to bring some of the people she thought she might along with the others for cover.

  “Get into a downtown hotel in Miami and that should be close enough. I’ll contact you there, on an unsecured line or through a messenger depending on the needs of the moment. Codeword: Rally gryphon.”

  “Got it… There then. Twenty-four hours or sooner.” Hopefully. She didn’t bother to add that part though, it was just understood. Things could and, given everything, probably would, get in the way.

  Rally gryphon… Holy hell.

  It was an old phrase they used to use in order to signify something going totally fubar back in the day, when they knew they’d be overheard, secured line or not. Cal was basically telling her to come, but that she couldn’t trust anyone. Even people from their own crew. Possibly not even him.

  Great, more spy shit. Not that she would have trusted anyone anyway, but for someone normal like Morris to see that level of danger meant that things had to be a lot worse than he’d said. It probably meant a trap too. Within reason she wouldn’t leave her old unit in trouble if she could help it, even if she’d only tolerated half of them, but her new people shouldn’t be forced into anything stupid either because of it. They were a tough bunch, overall, but not all of them were exactly good about keeping a low profile.

  This would have to be that. Low to the ground and nearly silent, or else they’d make the papers for sure. The news anyway. The print industry too, but no one read that stuff anymore, so it wasn’t the threat it used to be twenty or thirty years before.

  Hitting the button to hang up, she handed the phone back to Reyes, who didn’t take it at all, holding up his right hand to stop her.

  “Crush that for me, will you? We don’t need evidence of this.” The agent smiled and pointed at the phone in her hand.

  She didn’t wait, or ask if he was sure. If he wasn’t the man wouldn’t have asked her to do something like that at all. Hand convulsing, the black plastic shattered and with only about ten seconds of grinding worked down into small pieces, none larger than a dime. She found the important looking bits and made sure they were totally gone, then dug a divot with her heel and buried the whole mess just to keep the area tidy looking. Too many missions had been destroyed by trash being left around out in the open. Very few people dug around looking for evidence though.

  Glancing at the black clothed agent Marcia grinned and moved closer to him, putting her hand on the back of his heavy winter jacket. It was done in black, like everything the non-Infected agents wore day to day. If he was going all anti-Infected on her it should be enough to get a reaction from the man.

  “If anyone asks we came out here to make out.”

  The guy shook his head, but grinned.

  “Like hell. Start saying things like that and you’ll ruin my reputation. Then my girlfriend will cut something off while I’m sleeping. Let’s tell them we were planning some kind of exercise for the slackers or something. Unless you really want to make out, but again, the girlfriend thing makes that a bad risk for me.” He gave her a hard, blank look, and didn’t waiver at all for a long time, until she finally shrugged.

  “Fine. Day long forced march with packs?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They chatted about the idea as they walked back into the compound. Nothing worked as a cover as well as something real. True, they didn’t need to meet in secret for a training exercise and everyone on the base knew to leave if you wanted to talk about anything more pressing than the weather now, since they were being spied on openly by at least two or three different government bodies. Other than their own that was. That meant no one would really think they’d been doing anything too naughty though. People left to talk about gripes and bitches anymore, on purpose, to throw the watchers off, to give them cover for things that were more real. It had been hard to get people to go along with that idea at first, but Brian had helped her with it, taking people outside the wire every time he wanted to gripe about anything, or make even the simplest plan.

  Denis had really stepped up that way too, in the last month or so. That was a bit of a surprise, but she’d taken him for a walk and explained the concept, which had gotten him to do the same almost every day with different people. It was hard to remember that the guy was actually trying not to be a complete tool anymore, he was doing such a good job of it. It seemed almost effortless on his part, like he’d always been a team player. He used to be a real piece of work, but after he got out of the prison on the thirteenth floor of the underground complex it seemed like he was a new man.

  She didn’t really trust it yet, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. It just meant he had to keep it up to really earn her trust. Not that anyone ever really did manage to earn that, thanks to her first mode, but he was starting to get into the category of people she thought probably weren’t trying to do something bad to her at the moment. That was pretty much the best she had for anyone now.

  Inside the rebuilt glass and metal first floor of the headquarters, which she hated compared to the really nice wood building they’d had before, Marcia had to stop for a minute and figure out what she needed to do first.

  It wasn’t that hard really, she decided. She needed to take a team to Florida, which meant she needed some kind of reason to go there. The time frame was short, but there was always something to be done, in most places, if you were willing to stretch the idea of what was important a bit.

  There hadn’t been rumors of any anti-Infected riots or demonstrations planed in that area, or her special team would be on their way already. It was required by law after all. That meant she’d need to come up with something else then. Probably with Team One. They were good people, but not the ones she needed for a mission. Not a real one. Too high profile for one thing and often too nice. She was on that team too now, of course, but a decent looking thin white woman with dark hair could hide almost anyplace with a little make-up and a change of clothing. People didn’t see her and think government agent most of the time. There was no hiding Prime or Argos though. Too good looking and distinctive by far. Robert would work though. He might be the team leader, but most people didn’t even know he existed.

  He’d have made a great spy really. Nice and bland looking. Good looking enough that no one noticed him, plain enough that no one took his picture too often. Get him out of the business suit he always wore and he’d be nearly untraceable. Smiling a bit, trying to look friendly even though the whole phone call thing had set her back a half step, she took the elevator to the first floor, stopping at his office before heading to her own room or trying to talk to the Director. It was a normal enough thing for her that no one would think anything of it. Hopefully.

  She knocked on the frame of the open door, getting the dark haired man to look up and paste a pleasant look on his face. His first mode made him a workaholic, which was handy, since he always did a good job at everything he tried, but it meant he also kind of got a bit annoyed with frivolous distractions. If she didn’t want him to melt down at her, this would have to be something good enough to get his attention.

  “Hey Rob. I need to get a crew to Florida by tomorrow. We need a cover, photo op or event, but I want some of the people
from other teams on it too. Team building and all that. Can you come up with something? Miami by preference. Near downtown if possible.”

  The man blinked, shook his head for a few seconds and looked pissed, which was totally atypical, but he didn’t sound more than a little bland when he spoke. Calm and relaxed.

  “I can come up with something. Go away and pack. I need a list of who’s going though. I also expect you to back me up if…” He looked down at his desk, then over at his computer monitor. Without speaking he started tapping on the keyboard, and after about two minutes looked up.

  “Can you work with the cast of “Steinberg and Friends” instead of Team One specifically? There’s a Food Network conference event in Miami this weekend. We weren’t going to send anyone if you remember, but we actually have an invitation and it’s good PR. Is that workable for you?” He stared for a moment, as if the idea might not be good enough.

  It was though. Nearly perfect really. Almost too perfect.

  “That… Yes… that will work very nicely. Really well in fact. Can I call you with the rest of who’s needed in about an hour?”

  He nodded, suddenly happier than before and started typing, not saying anything for a bit.

  “Do I need to book plane tickets?”

  She didn’t know. They had use of a private jet, which belonged to Christian Pours, the Team Three leader, but where it was specifically at the moment she didn’t know. The woman would actually know what she had planned the second she walked into her office if not earlier, but that didn’t mean she’d agree to help her. This wasn’t strictly IPB business after all. It had to do with her old life with the CIA. Chris knew about it, of course, but it hadn’t really ever come up like this before.