The Peacemakers
Page 6
"So, we have one dead Olympus arms dealer, an entire neutral Pakistani village in chaos and the CIA Director of National Clandestine operations contacting us to rip me a new one."
Joe waited for the other shoe to drop.
"Damn!" Walsh banged a hand on the table, causing Isabella to jump in surprise.
Joe stared at the table in front of him. The sting of failure was worse than the hardest blow across the face.
Krieger decided to lighten the mood, "Not all is lost, my friends! I mean, is not better that Olympus lost two drones, two Hyperions and one bad boss man?"
Joe looked at the Russian, his face wane and tired, "It's piddling in the great scheme of things, big guy. We started this unit as a clandestine operation to find out what Olympus is planning and the truth about that damn Code disc and so far, we're nowhere closer to either of those objectives."
At the mention of the Code, everyone turned ashen. It was what held everything back. Kept in a vault next to Doctor Yune's workstation on the Barbarian, the Code disc had given them absolutely no clues whatsoever in the eight months the Peacemakers had possession of it. As the Olympus assassin Agrippina had strongly hinted, the Code was an object of immense power, but had stayed a complete enigma to them all; thwarting all of Doctor Yune's attempts to decrypt it.
"A few days ago, the CIA asked me to give them the Code disc," said the Colonel, smoothing his bushy white moustache, "I've put them off for the time being, promising them results, in the field and in the lab. We have none of either right now."
Another round of silence at the table. Joe looked over the faces of the comrades he'd fought tooth and nail this past year with. Krieger had placed his elbows on the table, cradling his head with his hands. Isabella stared at her bottle of water, not looking at anyone. Brick leaned back, arms crossed. No one seemed to want to say the obvious:
−that they had failed.
A raspy voice from the stairwell broke the tension.
"We may have something, Colonel."
Danny Callbeck stepped up into the meeting room, followed closely by Yune. The Inuit warrior looked tired, his body language placid and weak. Joe had never seen his friend so out of sorts. Danny adjusted the bionic sunglasses on his face as he spoke.
"After Decimus died, I searched his body and found this..." he held up the USB drive, "I had Doctor Yune scan it before I brought it to your attention, Colonel."
Danny sat down in the chair beside Joe. There were no extra seats, so Yune had to stand.
Yune picked up the drive and gave his two cents on the device. "I ran the drive through Symantic Endpoint, and Solarbot Malware Detection, as well as rootkit, trojan and Jargon File backdoor protectors..."
"English please, Doctor," Colonel Walsh interrupted the overly excited CIA engineer.
"Right...ah sorry. What I meant to say is this USB drive is a noclist."
Brick frowned, "A what?"
"A noclist...a collection of non-official cover names of high level Olympus operatives. As I was going to say, the drive was only tentatively protected, as it only took a few minutes before the standard CIA software broke its encryption."
Joe couldn't believe their luck, "What kind of names are we talking about here?"
Yune placed his hand on the back of his neck, a sheepish look stretching across his thin features, "That's the problem...the info on the disc is encrypted in another language I don't recognize; some sort of argot that isn't known by the CIA computer protocols."
Krieger raised an eyebrow, "Argot? What is this word?"
"Argot is a secret language," answered Brick, "known to a certain group of people alone."
"Can you break it Doctor?" Walsh asked, tapping his finger absently against the tabletop.
Yune was quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure Colonel. Most argots that I am familiar with require at least a cursory knowledge of the language semantics and nouns, which I don't have or an understanding of the organization that created it−which we don't know."
Isabella piped up for the first time, her voice inquisitive, "If you can't understand it, how do you know what the drive even is?"
Yune pushed his octagonal glasses higher up on his nose, "Because I saw Commander Dante use one during my time with Olympus. He used it to remain in contact with undercover Olympus operatives throughout Turkmenistan and Kazinistan."
Joe looked at the Colonel, his eyes filled with hope, "You know what this means, right Colonel? This is the first real lead we've had in locating the organizational head of Olympus!"
"Don't jump out of your pants just yet Sergeant. Doctor, first things first, you get on decoding that noclist. Make it your priority. The rest of you..."
Before the Colonel could continue giving his orders, a young, sandy-haired intelligence technician came running up the stairs, "Colonel Walsh! Deputy Director Hinton is on the monitor for you."
Walsh grunted. Joe knew the Colonel wasn't looking forward to this.
"Thank you, mister..?"
"Ah...Atkinson, sir, Peter."
"Thank you Mister Atkinson, reroute it through the monitor here."
"Yes sir, the satellite linkup may take a moment."
Brick activated the monitor behind him and stood up, moving behind Isabella to better see the screen. Joe noted Brick placed a hand on Izy's shoulder. He had known for some time something was going on between the two of them, but had said nothing. Although Joe personally was not in favor of inter-unit fraternization, Brick and Isabella had known each other for some time before he had known either of them. Whatever they were doing was none of his business - as long as it didn't affect the mission.
As the group waited for the monitor to connect, Joe leaned over to the Colonel and spoke, "Sir, there's one last thing."
"What?"
"The Centurions...something about them lately has been keeping me up."
"Explain Sergeant."
"They are way more...skilled, is the best word I guess. They work better in teams now, using tactics I can only compare to SAS or SEALS. I've only noticed it gradually in the past few months..."
The LCD monitor flashed as the image of the young, bureaucratic Deputy Director of National Clandestine Operations for the CIA came through.
"We'll talk about this later, Sergeant," said Walsh, turning his attention towards the view screen. A small webcam set up above the monitor allowed the Director to view his audience as he spoke. Walsh noted that the time change would mean it was around three in the afternoon in Langley. The NCO/DD wouldn't give a shit what time it was here.
"Hello, Colonel."
Walsh nodded, "Director."
"We seem to be meeting these days under less then pleasant circumstances."
"How do you mean, sir?"
"Well, I seem to recall a certain promise you made to myself and the DCI. That you would, under no circumstance, enter Pakistan and attempt to capture Maximillion Decimus."
Walsh played poker with the best of them. His face was a mask of neutrality. "Circumstances change, Director. Our intelligence confirmed Decimus in Darra Adam Khel. It was too good a chance to pass up."
"So instead, you enter Pakistan, reduce a town to anarchy and provoke an all out fire fight?"
"Events got out of hand, momentarily."
The immaculately dressed Deputy Director took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "Alright then, I assume you have Decimus in custody then?"
A muscle twitched in Walsh's cheek, "I'm afraid not. He was killed in the ensuing battle."
"WHAT!" The director practically exploded out of his chair, "Do you have any idea the shit storm you and your bunch of cowboys have caused for the DCI and the suits in Washington? The President has been on the phone with Prime Minister Sharif for the past hour, trying to tell him we aren't interested in starting a war with Pakistan! You had better give me some news better than fuckall!"
"There's no need to swear, Director." Walsh lit a fresh cigarette, playing it ultra cool, "I can hear you just fine."
Joe pushed his chair back and stood up, angrily, "Now wait a minute, you can't jus−"
Walsh placed a hand on Joe's arm. The Colonel shook his head not to say any more. Joe sat back down, furious. Walsh turned back to the screen, ever the cool customer.
"Now Director, I think you're being a little irrational."
"Irrational! You want to see irrational? When you get back here, I'll make it my mission to bury you in so much shit, you'll need a shovel to take a piss!"
"Charming. Goodbye Director." Walsh gave the cut motion to Krieger, who leaned over and shut off the monitor. The tension in the room was molasses thick. Everyone stood perfectly still, their thoughts kept to themselves, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
Krieger spoke first, "Colonel, do you mind if I go to Disneyland after we are fired?"
* * *
Two hours later, Danny Callbeck lay alone on a cot in the aft compartment. Beside him, the large metallic form of the Black Hawk sat, rotors folded in for transport. The Barbarian had taken off from Bagram Airfield and was now on its way back to the States. It was a fourteen hour flight to Joint Base Andrews, the de facto home of the Peacemakers while off duty. The loud hum of the quad engine C-17 Globemaster hadn't been enough to lull the Canadian to a much needed sleep. The other members of the Unit were either grabbing some sack time, or doing some last minute debriefings.
As he lay staring up into the darkness that surrounded him when not wearing the glasses, one singular thought swirled in his mind, a thought that had kept him up a lot these days.
Something is missing inside of you Danny Callbeck.
The feeling always returned to Danny when he was alone, with only his own thoughts to keep him company. He had kept himself so busy this past year, that he had had little time to get his personal feelings in order. His life had changed so drastically since the battle on the border of Kazinistan last March, he hardly remembered anything before the attack. It was like everything since then was his real life, and everything before was some sort of illusion.
Danny placed a hand on the Inuit charm he wore around his neck at all times. The piece of Inuit artistry, carved from caribou antler into the shape of a humpback whale, was all Danny had left to remind him of the strange woman he had met back in Fortress Bellum.
Agrippina.
The name was never far from Danny's thoughts. It angered him greatly that he still thought about the Olympus assassin. She had tried to kill him several times, had almost killed Joe. But in their moments together, Danny had been intoxicated by her presence. Everything about her had felt so alive, so vibrant and real. Her spirit had felt almost tangible, like something he could actually touch and hold.
Danny sighed, trying once again to sleep.
It made no sense to him. He was Canadian Special Forces, trained to take lives and defend those who couldn't fend for themselves. It made no sense to dwell on the death of a woman who, by any regard, deserved her fate; a killer who would have murdered him without a second thought. He should be able to cleanse himself completely of her memory.
But he just couldn't let her go. Ever since that day he stared into Agrippina's emerald green eyes as she plummeted to her death in the burning ruins of Fortress Liberatio, Danny had felt incomplete.
A thought came to him that made him even more anxious. He remembered a story his father had told him when he was a child. His father, a Canadian Military Signal Corp officer, was learned in Inuit spirituality and myth, and one of his favorite pastimes was imparting those myths to his young son. Danny would sit spellbound as his father told him endless tales of whale spirits, clever foxes and bird wives. His father's tales were among his most treasured memories of his childhood.
The story had gone that a young woman, fearless and brave, had fallen in love with a boy from a neighboring tribe. Both their fathers had forbidden each to speak with the other, due to a long standing feud between the tribes. One day, torn between the love of the boy and the love for her father, the woman threw herself into the ocean. Grieving beyond words, the boy soon lost all cares for anything in his life. The shaman told him his spirit had been taken; the pain of loss from the girl's death had torn his soul straight from his body and hidden it in the ocean. The boy swore he would find the girl and set out by himself in a small boat on the sea. He believed that if he found his love, that his spirit would be reunited with him as well. The boy swore he wouldn't rest until he found her, even if it meant his death.
When Danny had asked his father if the boy ever found the girl, his Pa answered with a twinkle in his eye.
"Perhaps. No one ever knew what happened to the boy. It's just a story about the loss we sometimes carry within ourselves and the quest we endure to heal it."
It was in quiet moments like these when he really did miss his father.
"Danny?"
Danny snapped back to reality.
The Canadian's sightless eyes opened at the sound of the familiar voice.
Joe Braddock.
"Sorry if I woke you."
Danny sat up on the cot, feeling around for his bionic sunglasses, "Don't worry, I wasn't asleep."
Joe knelt down to sit on the edge of the open Black Hawk side door, facing his best, and only friend.
His brother.
"Are you all right?"
Danny put a hand to his forehead and sighed, "I don't know. I haven't felt...right in a long time."
"Wanna talk about it?"
Danny was silent for moment. "Not really."
Joe nodded, understanding. "The Colonel just got off the phone with the Pentagon. It's...bad news."
Danny took a breath.
"The Secretary of Defense, along with the DCI, have pulled funding for the Peacemakers. They say that in the light of our failure in Pakistan that they need to reassess the Unit's efficiency and...roster."
Danny slowly shook his head, his normally proud shoulders drooping in defeat.
"So...that's it then?"
Joe nodded, "Colonel Walsh is putting everyone on immediate leave once we get back to Maryland. The mission was incredibly high risk Danny. We rolled the dice and lost this time."
"And Olympus? What's going to keep them in check now?"
"I don't know," Joe said, rubbing his elbow. It had been scraped badly after jumping from the building back in Pakistan, and was now covered with a bandage, "Don't count the Colonel out yet. He'll think of something."
Danny curled his hands into fists. "I...I let you guys down today. It should be me paying the price."
"Hey! You stow that right now, brother!" Joe snapped, "You are always the one that knows exactly what to do out there. What happened was outside of your control."
"No it wasn't, Joe," Danny's stoic facade was wavering, "I was not focused. I allowed Decimus to kill himself. With the Whisper suit, I should have been able to stop him. I..."
Joe placed a reassuring hand on his friend's knee. "Whatever happened out there, it's in the past and right now, the future is what concerns me now."
Danny took a slow breath, allowing his senses to calm. The moment of hopelessness had passed.
"I haven't been feeling right for a while Joe. I...I need to go back home, to Canada."
Joe raised an eyebrow, "You mean Nunavut? You know we can't see our families yet, the Colonel may still need us."
"No, it's just...I just need to back, get my bearings."
Joe reasoned it out for a few seconds before responding, "Okay, why don't we take that hunting trip you've been talking about?"
Danny was surprised, "You mean you want to go too?"
Joe chuckled, "Sure, it's not like we're going anywhere anytime soon. If the Unit is shut down, then we may as well enjoy a little R and R. God knows we deserve it."
Danny smiled his rare smile, "Alright, I know the perfect plac
e. But...you are sure this is a good idea?"
"Hell yeah! Olympus's Primary Arms Dealer is dead. What trouble could they get into in the meantime, anyway?"
Chapter 4
A Man of All Seasons
Olympus HQ, Unknown Location, November 16th
Her loins still aching from their breathless lovemaking, Octavia shifted in the bed, watching her lover dress himself for the most important briefing of his life. She knew that this day would be the best chance Titus would have to prove himself worthy of his father's respect. The future of the PMC depended on what would happen in the next half hour.
Titus pulled his uniformed slacks on, leaving his shirt for last. His muscles were toned to perfection, his body fat practically nil. The countless hours of conditioning reaped upon him to mold his form into the finest soldier possible was readily apparent. Octavia drank the sight of him in. It stung her soul to see this man kept so distant from the position he was so obviously destined to have. His time was near, and she would do everything in her power to make sure he rose to the heights of his forbearers.
And she, Octavia, would be right beside him.
"That was quicker than usual," she said, only mildly teasing.
Titus pulled a black tunic over his toned physique. "Sorry. I've got a lot on my mind."
She stood up from the bed, pulling the sheets with her; draping them across her naked body.
"Of course you do. I didn't mean..."
"I know what you meant," he interrupted. He picked up his red beret from the table across from him, the only other piece of furniture in his quarters, besides the bed. He regarded the beret for a moment, moving a finger to touch the golden eagle symbol stencilled across the front.
"Six months..." he said, looking at the beret, "...six months and Tiberius has done nothing about these rogue CIA stooges running our organization ragged. We have contacts and spies in nearly every echelon of American government and Tiberius cannot even locate a group of terrorists." He tossed the beret back down. "And now Decimus is dead."