A sudden thought struck him. “This was obtained from an American source. Right? You can tell me that much, can’t you?”
The man looked almost ready to answer, then he smiled. “I wish I could, Dr. Eckert. Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?” Dean was starting to find his confidence, thinking these negotiations were going pretty well. He looked down at his drink. Almost gone, so he drained the glass. “Perhaps what?”
“Well, perhaps if we were to help each other…”
So that was the game. A little quid pro quo. Couldn’t hurt. “How would that work?”
“Well doctor, as you probably know, there is a file within that research of yours, rosetta is the name I believe. Quite clever.”
Dean smiled, feeling even more confident.
“Unfortunately it’s password protected,” Smythe added.
“Yes,” Dean answered, “and you’ll never figure it out in a million years.” He giggled, thinking himself witty. The stern look on his captor’s face silenced him, though, and he realized how stupid that was. Should’ve told him you didn’t know it, jerk, he thought to himself, but too late now jerk. He shook his head, which was quite thoroughly swimming now. Had he drunk that much?
“I see,” the man said, not sounding particularly upset about it. “In that case, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you either, Doctor Eckert. And I was so hoping we could help each other out.”
“Me too,” Dean said. But that didn’t sound right. He tried another tack. “Maybe there’s some other way? I can help, I mean. Other way I can help…”
The man seemed to consider the offer. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to have a closer look at that,”—he pointed to the pad—“just to make sure everything’s intact. You can let me know in the morning.”
At the mention of ‘morning’, Dean had to stifle a yawn. It occurred to him that he hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days. Or had he? He couldn’t really remember the last time. As his train of thought trailed off, he realized Smythe was waiting. “Oh, right. This,” he patted the device, “yeah, I’ll have a look. Make sure it’s all okay. All there. All right.”
Smythe stood abruptly and said, “Take all the time you need.” Suddenly the guards were back. They flanked Dean and blindfolded him, again before he was able to steal a proper look at them.
* * *
Robert Smythe waited until his prisoner was out of earshot before turning around and activating his dedicated connection. Within moments, the face of Elena Sokolov filled the screen.
“Madam Premier,” he said, bowing his head in a show of deference, “both packages are now in my possession, as promised. They’re ready to transfer to your operatives as soon as you give the word.”
The Russian woman nodded slowly, the barest hint of a smile crossing her expression. “And what is the condition of the packages?”
“Both intact. We’re working on eliciting cooperation, in order to fully integrate the data before sending it off.”
“Tread carefully. It might be better for you to wait for my people. I could have them join you—”
“No!” Smythe said quickly, holding up a hand, “thank you, Madam Premier. I assure you that won’t be necessary. The package will be handled with care, and handed off as we arranged. There’s no need,”—he punctuated ‘no’ and ‘need’ with care—“for any assistance.”
She paused a moment, as if sizing him up. “As you say. We’ll contact you with particulars for the handoff.”
“Of course.”
21.
Dean couldn’t believe his luck! His work, all right here in front of him, and they’d left him all alone with it. The fact that this Smythe fellow let him keep the data pad did strike him as odd, but maybe he was nicer than he let on. After all, the man had given him a drink or three. What kind of a kidnapper was that? Most civilized of him, if Dean did say so himself. He laughed at his little joke, scrolling through until he got to rosetta. The key to it all, and he’d been so clever to conceal it from everyone. Especially that Jo woman, like she needed to know. He almost regretted not showing it all to Smythe. He really had been nice, all things considered. But still, he had to protect what was his.
Reminding himself that being cooped up made the brain go in strange directions, and sleepy ones at that, so he set his mind back on the device. They were so stupid, leaving it with him like that. Amateurs. He smiled. Maybe he could even hack the thing, get a signal out or something. Then he could get out of here. If he could just focus and wake the hell up. Stupid. How the hell are you going to get a signal? What do you have a pocket wifi or something?
Chuckling at his own stupidity, he turned back to the rosetta file. At least he could make sure it was all here. That’s something he could accomplish, drinks drunk or not. He carefully keyed in his password, trying to stay focused on the screen and keep his head from nodding. It was a difficult password, one he’d committed to memory long ago. He’d never entrust it to any password management program. But as well as he knew it, it still took two tries, then three, but finally there it was. The solution, all there in front of him. Beautiful. Just the way he’d left it. He stared down at it for a few seconds, but the screen was turning blurry. He wanted to make sure, but he needed to rest his eyes for a minute first. Setting it down beside him, he lay back. He was out cold before the device flickered and shut itself off.
* * *
“The prisoner took the bait,” reported the sentry, “he went into the file just like you said. But he didn’t get very far. We retrieved the device, and he’s ready to be moved.”
“Good,” Robert Smythe answered, “leave him to sleep for now.” He’s got a long trip ahead.
He hung up, then paused a moment before picking the receiver back up. This next phase of the operation was going to require delicate precision, as he was about to bring a third party into the mix. The fact that they had what they needed didn’t change the fact that they could lose it if he didn’t stave off the enemies at the gate. And that included a consortium who would resort to force if he didn’t deliver.
When the call was connected, he said very little. Mostly he was jotting down times and coordinates. Then he was asked to confirm the pre-arranged exchange one more time. Yes, the American was in his custody. No, he would not be a problem to handle, that’d been taken care of as discussed. No, the data would not be a problem to extract once the subject was in hand and regained consciousness. No, the Americans would never know he’d been traded. Yes, he would make himself ready for a confirmation.
Smythe hung up with a sense of satisfaction, which lasted a full ten seconds before his sentry interrupted him. He shot the man a withering glare, but softened when he saw the data pad in the man’s hand.
Smythe had peered over the shoulder of his technician as he mirrored the keystrokes. It was surprising that Eckert’d taken the bait so easily, but oftentimes these number crunchers were surprisingly illiterate when it came to computer passwords and hacking.
Now that he had the access codes, there was no further need for Eckert. And as for the Russians, the price just went up.
“Code checks out?” he asked.
The sentry nodded, handing the device over.
“Good. The handoff is still on schedule. Make sure he’s ready to be moved.”
“Right.”
* * *
“Jo! Got him!”
Shane stood over the inert form of Dean Eckert. The doctor wasn’t answering, and appeared to be unconscious. Shane slapped his face twice. No response. Jo found her way in and knelt down beside him. Placing the back of one hand against his nose and feeling for a pulse, she checked him over and reached into her suit. She pulled out a small case and flipped it open, revealing a first-aid kit and several needles. She selected a vial and loaded up a syringe, tapping it twice with a practiced eye.
“I’ll do what I can, but without knowing what they gave him I don’t want to risk anything too aggressive.”
“Just do what you can. If we can get him up, that’ll be enough.” He didn’t have to mention the fact that their odds of success probably depended on it. For them to carry an unconscious body out hardly seemed feasible.
“He’s not going to just snap out of it, Shane,” Jo warned. She stopped to think. “What if we carry him between us, like we’re coming in from a night on the town? Think that’ll get us a pass?”
Shane considered. If they could come off as three soldiers, it might work, but it was one hell of a longshot. He gave her a ‘what do we have to lose?’ shrug, then reached for Dean and propped him up.
It took a few minutes to get him into gear and costumed up, all the while getting no help from the semi-conscious man, but they were finally ready.
Just as they were about to exit the room, Dean moaned loud and, with great effort, raised an arm.
“What’s wrong?” Jo demanded, shoving upward under Dean’s arm to keep his weight elevated.
“Work,” he slurred, “my work. Need to…” He halfheartedly pointed across the room, then allowed his arm to slump.
Shane moved to where Dean had pointed, looking all around the space, then over to the bed to lift the springboard. There was nothing to be found, and not many hiding places in such a small space.
“What’s he after?” Shane wondered aloud.
“His work?” Jo said. “That’s what he called the research paper I used as bait the day we met. That’s here?”
“Not here,” Shane replied, “not in this room anyway.”
Dean’s head flopped upward. He blinked, attempting to focus. “Bobby Smythe musta took it,” he said, then he gave a little laugh as his head rolled back down. “Gotta get it,” he muttered. “Can’t re-do it…”
Shane said, “I’ll go,” then started for the door.
Jo put a warning hand up, stopping him. “I know what to look for. I had it first, remember?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, but Shane seemed to realize she was right. “We’ll stay close. Meet me at the place.”
She knew where he meant. An elevated vantage point they’d used to evaluate the compound, far enough to avoid attention, and the only spot nearby they were both familiar with.
“If you don’t see me in twenty minutes…”
“See you in twenty,” he said, flatly dismissing her offer of self-sacrifice.
They left the room—Shane propping up an awkwardly stumbling Dean—and split up in the corridor. Shane watched Jo disappear further into the compound, then he and his burden made for the exit.
It was slow going, but Dean did seem to be coming around slightly as they maneuvered down the corridors. He grunted and planted his feet, perhaps assuming he was still among enemies. Shane leaned in and told him to relax. He stopped resisting, but only for a moment. Allowing his annoyance to get the best of him, Shane gave Dean an extra-rough tug, forcing a grunt out of the dazed man who still wasn’t reacting properly to his surroundings.
They’d almost made it to the outer door before they ran into a problem; a pair of guards, coming straight at them. Nothing to be done about it now—they were already committed to the pass. Any false move would flag them, assuming they hadn’t already aroused suspicion. He’d have to sell ‘drunk companion’, and sell it good, or they were sunk. With a practiced hand, Shane reached under Dean’s shirt and began massaging his lower abdomen. Not for comfort or pleasure, this idea. Quite the opposite. He was fast making his charge nauseous, a trick he’d learned from his training days when ‘better out than in’ was considered lifesaving advice. He was hoping to provoke the kind of unpleasant response that tended to make onlookers disappear into the woodwork.
Just as they were almost face to face with their enemy, he succeeded in forcing Dean to become sick. It was a spectacular show, the guttural noises and splashes of puke doing the job quite adequately. The guards jumped back, leaned up against the wall as far as they could, then shuffled quickly past and disappeared the way the duo had just come.
Dean gave Shane a pained look, half accusation and half apology.
He returned a ‘what else could I do?’ shrug, and maneuvered the semi-conscious Dr. Eckert around his own sick so they could continue. Dean, unfazed in any permanent sense, continued shuffling alongside as before, head lolling, an occasional grunt the only indication that he was still alive.
* * *
Jo had taken out two sentries before finding the wing she suspected was the right place. Lucky for her, there didn’t seem to be any more patrols guarding it. Too far into the facility, she figured. They needed their manpower on the perimeter where trouble was most likely to come.
But she was the sort of trouble they should’ve been on the lookout for, and the guards she’d taken out should’ve been missed. She’d stashed the bodies carefully enough, but if they had any sort of communication protocol, alarms should’ve been sounding by now. The fact that they weren’t indicated that she wasn’t dealing with the highest level organization, but that didn’t make her feel any more comfortable. Given what she’d seen, she’d concluded this was just a way-station, and that meant others were out there, perhaps even now on their way in to see the professor.
She smiled inwardly at the new moniker she’d just invented for her charge. She’d have to make it a point to call Dean Eckert ‘professor’ next time the chance struck. Not today, though. He was too out of it to appreciate the irony, although Shane might like it. Thinking of the airman gave her fresh energy. She stepped up the pace, scanning the offices as she passed for likely storage places. Whatever device they’d been using, it wasn’t just going to be tossed out on a desk somewhere. It’d be locked up, or concealed. But she was trained to know where to look, and this section of the compound wasn’t all that big.
She had to duck into the shadows twice as people walked by. Judging from the casual tones and easy footsteps, she knew they weren’t guards. Probably work for the boss, she decided, based on where they were headed. She held back a moment, then tailed the second group. If they were going to the bosses office, that was where she needed to be.
She found it easily enough, the noisy group being exceptionally easy to follow, and stole a peek into the opened door to see a man seated behind a desk. The option to search was a non-starter, not in the time she had, so she trained her weapon on the man and stepped into the room.
The man looked up with a quizzical expression, but he didn’t panic or lunge for a gun. She had to admit, that was an impressive reaction. Amateurish though this group might be, the man in charge had some experience.
“Waste my time talking, and I’ll shoot you in the arm,” Jo warned, her voice calm with a slight tinge of sadism mixed in. “Don’t give me what I’m here for in ten seconds, and I’ll kill you and find it myself.”
With a nod of understanding, the man raised his hands up and slowly rose from the chair. He turned to the back wall, slid a photograph aside, and proceeded to unlock the wall safe hidden behind it.
When he swung it open, Jo called out an additional warning. “Slow, now. Hands where they belong.”
“Of course,” the man replied, removing the data device gingerly and turning to show it.
“On the desk, then step all the way to your right.”
He obeyed, betraying no hint of anger. When she picked up the device, he said, “You’re delivering it into the wrong hands, you know.”
“So I’m to assume yours are the right ones then, Bobby?”
“Bobby?” The name brought out the first smile from the man. “I see you’ve been speaking with Doctor Eckert.” “I prefer Robert. And you are?”
Jo replied with “What’d I tell you about talking?”, though it wasn’t altogether unfriendly. The entire encounter had a professional sort of feel to it, she had to admit.
Dark Alignment Page 14
