The Chimera Secret

by Dean Crawford

  ‘You’re here for something, Natalie,’ he said finally. ‘You could be here on behalf of the Congressional committee but they’re investigating the CIA, not us, so I have to ask why you are here.’

  Natalie silently inhaled and ordered her thoughts. Jarvis was a straight talker, which helped, but it also meant that he was a sharper tool than most and wouldn’t be easy to trip up.

  ‘What kind of work does Ethan do for the agency?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not at liberty to answer that question,’ Jarvis replied, and took a sip of his coffee.

  ‘How does the agency feel about having a private contractor working on some of its most classified projects?’

  ‘I’m not in a position to ponder the preferences of this agency, only to achieve results from our investigations as best as I can with the resources at hand.’

  Natalie bit her lip and went for the kill.

  ‘Congress cannot access much of the material that we know is handled here on a daily basis, but we can organize a complete and thorough access to the files of Warner & Lopez Inc, and by way of that obtain warrants for relevant and connecting files within the DIA.’

  Jarvis’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘That’s not a legally valid course of action for a Congressional investigation.’

  ‘It will be,’ Natalie replied. ‘One way or the other we’ll find a way to break into whatever’s been going on here. You can make it easier for us by telling me a few simple facts about my brother.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I can,’ Jarvis said, and smiled over his mug.

  ‘Is Ethan your friend?’

  Jarvis’s smile vanished and his blue eyes fixed on hers for a long beat. For a moment Natalie thought she saw there the man himself, with all the years of soldiering and secrecy stripped away to reveal just another human being struggling to do what he felt was right.

  Jarvis set his mug down.

  ‘In this business, you try not to make connections because they’re all too often severed by circumstances beyond your control.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked,’ Natalie replied.

  Jarvis hesitated only for a moment longer before he spoke again. ‘Yes.’

  Natalie reached down to her bag and pulled out a file. From within she produced a series of printed pages that Ben had prepared at her request. She tossed them onto Jarvis’s desk and fanned them out with one hand.

  ‘Documents uncovered earlier this afternoon. These search strings revealed the names of subjects currently under observation by unknown government agencies in direct contravention of statute laws protecting citizens of this country against invasive acts of observation.’

  Jarvis looked down at the images, and as he read the names on the files Natalie saw the old man’s eyebrow raise, saw him take a slight breath. The subtle body language told her that whatever else Jarvis might know, he did not know about this.

  ‘How long have these been running?’ Jarvis asked.

  ‘Four years,’ Natalie said. ‘Ever since the disappearance of a journalist from Jabaliya, Gaza Strip.’

  Doug Jarvis looked up at her from the files.

  ‘Joanna Defoe,’ he said.

  The old man was showing all the signs of somebody experiencing revelation after revelation and struggling to link them all together. He furrowed his brow as his eyes danced from one sheet of paper to the next. Natalie leaned forward and swept them away from his gaze and back into the file. You’ve got him on the run now. Keep control of him.

  ‘You’ll have noticed that not only was Ethan’s name on the files and that of his partner Nicola Lopez,’ Natalie said, ‘but my name is on these files as being under surveillance, as are those of my parents, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some secretive agency snoop around our personal and private lives without telling me exactly why they’re doing so.’

  Jarvis looked at her. ‘This isn’t a DIA operation.’

  ‘How would you know?’ Natalie asked. ‘You’re not the director. They could have something going on above your pay-grade. Hell, they could be watching you too.’

  ‘I have no doubt that they are,’ Jarvis replied smoothly, catching her off guard. ‘Difference is that we would have a tangible reason for doing so. I don’t see anything here that suggests to me that this surveillance is anything other than some kind of training exercise. You’re on the committee’s list of investigators, Ethan and Lopez work for the DIA – maybe everyone’s keeping tabs right now.’

  ‘And my parents?’ Natalie pushed. ‘Are they being watched due to your supposed cautionary measures? My father’s a former United States Marine and my mother’s both elderly and suffering from arthritis. Are you expecting them to be behind the next major terrorist attack in this country? Does the DIA suspect that right now she’s working out how to build a rocket launcher from her goddamned walking stick?’

  ‘I think you’re overreacting,’ Jarvis replied. ‘And all of this is just paperwork without evidence to support it, which I don’t suppose you . . .’

  Natalie slid her cellphone smoothly across the desk, the device spinning round as it came to a stop in front of Jarvis. He looked down at the image of a blue sedan, taken on what looked like the freeway over the Potomac.

  ‘What’s the chances of that turning out to be an agency pool vehicle if I run the plates through the committee’s investigation?’ Natalie asked. ‘It followed me for almost an hour this morning, along with another acting in support.’

  ‘It could be,’ Jarvis replied, his gaze still fixed on the image of the sedan. ‘But it won’t be DIA.’

  ‘I don’t care who the goddamned hell it belongs to,’ Natalie snapped as she grabbed her cellphone back. ‘I’m being followed. So are my family. I want to know why. I want your official assistance in this investigation, Mr. Jarvis. I want you to find out why my family are of such interest to the government, and I think that you already know more than you’re letting on.’

  Again, the raised eyebrow and look of bemusement. ‘Really?’

  Natalie felt a surge of anger at the old man and his casual disregard for her plight.

  ‘Y’know, for a friend of Ethan’s you sure know how to short-change him,’ Natalie shot back. ‘Who the hell do you people think you are?’

  Jarvis sighed softly.

  ‘We’re the ones who have to make difficult decisions every single day of the year,’ he replied, ‘often decisions that conflict with what we would morally consider to be the right thing to do. There is no easy way to say this, Natalie, but Ethan, Nicola, yourself, your family, even me and mine, are nothing more than pawns in the epic sweep of mankind’s tale. Our priority is to protect and to serve this country for the benefit and security not of ourselves but of people who are not even born yet. It is they who will reap the rewards of our efforts, as we now reap the rewards of countless men and women who died in war zones to protect our way of life.’

  Natalie sat in silence for a long moment. ‘Even if it costs innocent lives?’

  Jarvis, his face impassive, nodded once.

  ‘Even then. It’s horrible, unfair and tragic, but sometimes our people are lost to enemy action through more than just a knife or a bullet. Sometimes it’s simply unavoidable that collateral damage will occur from operations and individuals can become exposed, their identities revealed to the enemy before we can protect them.’

  Natalie realized that she was grinding her teeth in her skull. She forced herself to stop.

  ‘This surveillance,’ she said finally. ‘It’s not about my family, is it? It’s about Joanna Defoe.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jarvis replied.

  ‘You say that Ethan is your friend. I know that he respects you, Mr. Jarvis, although right now I’m struggling to figure out why. Surely you must consider it worthwhile to find out what happened to her, even if not in an official capacity?’

  Jarvis remained impassive.

  ‘It is not within my remit to use the resources of this agency to satisfy persona
l grievances, no matter how tragic.’

  Natalie pushed away from the desk and stood. Jarvis stood with her and extended his hand. Natalie was momentarily surprised. She looked into his eyes and saw swimming there a regret that she had not noticed before, like a long-forgotten dream breaking the surface of his thoughts.

  ‘I’m sorry that I can’t help you, Miss Warner,’ he said.

  Natalie shook his hand and for a moment wasn’t sure what to say.

  ‘I know,’ she replied finally. ‘But rest assured, I will not stop until I find out what happened to her, regardless of your collateral damage.’

  Mr. Wilson sat in silence in his car and watched from a distance as Natalie Warner drove out of the DIAC building’s lot and joined the freeway headed north for the district. He made no attempt to follow her, for to do so now could jeopardize the entire operation. Clearly, the analyst shared her brother’s soldiering instinct: Wilson knew he’d been spotted by Natalie on the freeway near Washington DC. Her keen eye had surprised him, but he would not be caught out so easily again.

  He lifted his cell to his ear.

  William Steel’s voice echoed down the line, distorted by the intense electronic shielding.

  ‘What news?’

  ‘Natalie Warner just visited somebody at the DIA, presumably Doug Jarvis. They’re onto something here, something beyond what we’re trying to protect. Without access I can’t tell what they’re up to.’

  ‘Then there is no longer any other option,’ Steel replied. ‘We cannot afford to take any chances. Bold action is all we have left. Ensure that the analyst is prevented from furthering her investigation.’

  ‘Understood,’ Wilson replied, and shut the line off.

  He tossed the cellphone onto the passenger seat next to him and set off for Washington.

  He would not be able to fire his gun easily in the city. He would have to use his imagination. A smile curled from the corner of his mouth.

  32

  NEZ PERCE NATIONAL FOREST, IDAHO

  Kurt Agry’s voice screamed out above the gunfire.

  ‘Fall back! Protect the camp!’

  The soldiers turned and fired into the camp, rounds plowing through tents, boxes and bergens as they swept the camp with a lethal hail of bullets. Ethan flinched as more rocks arced down on them from above and thumped down onto the forest floor. One slammed into Klein’s arm and smashed the rifle from his grasp as he cried out and dropped to his knees.

  Ethan sprinted forward and grabbed Klein’s M-16, then turned his back to the camp and squinted out into the darkness behind them instead. A massive form plunged through the trees away from him, barely visible. He lifted the rifle and fired two three-second bursts out into the woods, but the shadowy form was gone before he could determine if he’d hit it or not.

  The gunfire ceased and the falling rocks vanished as quickly as they had come.

  ‘The camp’s on fire!’

  Ethan turned to see flames curling and writhing up the walls of the tents, the burning embers from the fire scorching anything upon which they landed. Kurt Agry dashed into the center and hurled handfuls of dirt on the flames.

  Ethan ran in alongside him and tossed the soldiers’ bergens clear of the flames, kicking out fires as Lopez joined him with Dana, Proctor, Duran and Mary. Ethan grabbed for another bergen and hauled it away from the fire. The top of the bergen spilled open as he yanked it away, and the flap of a canvas satchel toppled from within. As Ethan hauled the bergen clear of the flames, he almost leapt into the air as he saw the insignia on the satchel.

  CHARGE ASSEMBLY, DEMOLITION

  Ethan dropped the rucksack as though it were itself aflame and stared down at the satchel charge now laying half out of the bergen. He recognized the product instantly from his service in Iraq and Afghanistan with the US Marines. An M183 Demolition Charge was essentially sixteen blocks of Composition C-4 explosive packed in a case, each block wrapped in a Mylar-film container. Two priming assemblies would also be packed in the case. Each of the blocks, designation M-112, were easily cut and molded to fit specific targets and could be initiated with any number of high-energy devices. The entire kit had been extremely effective in the field of battle, able to be adapted to all requirements for general demolition.

  Just beneath the charges lay a box detonator, which contained the electronics to set off the explosives either by direct connection or wireless signal. Ethan realized that this was Simmons’s bergen, and that he must have been the demolition man on Lieutenant Watson’s squad.

  Ethan looked up and saw Sergeant Agry frantically hauling one of the other bergens away from nearby flames. Ethan dragged the bergen away and resealed the top before he returned to the center of the camp and began hurling clumps of dirt on burning tents.

  After several minutes of furious activity, the fires were out. Ethan stood in the center of the camp as Duran began rebuilding the original fire, while the soldiers carried their fallen comrade into the camp on a collapsible stretcher. One look was all Ethan needed to know that the young soldier would not be continuing on their journey. As Duran got the fire organized and the light flickered again, he could see that the man’s skull was badly fractured.

  ‘He needs a hospital,’ Lopez said. ‘Fast.’

  Kurt Agry looked down at the injured man and nodded.

  ‘Get on the radios,’ he ordered Klein. ‘We’ll need an extraction.’

  ‘Radios are all smashed,’ Klein responded. ‘That thing that came through here pretty much wrecked most of our communications gear.’

  ‘What about the satellite phone?’ Agry snapped.

  ‘Fire damage,’ Jenkins reported. ‘It was in my bergen. Most of the other stuff wasn’t damaged but the phone was in a side pouch and got burned. It’s useless.’

  Sergeant Agry dragged a hand across his stubbled jaw. ‘You’re saying we’ve got no comms.’

  ‘None,’ Klein confirmed.

  For a moment Ethan glanced across at the bergens now piled up away from the camp fire. Lieutenant Watson’s men were trained National Guard soldiers, tasked with escorting them through the forests in a search for a body. There was no requirement at all for demolition, and it wasn’t standard practice for infantry to carry charges: the M-183 weighed around twenty pounds, a significant burden for troops operating in mountainous terrain.

  For the first time, Ethan looked at the soldiers in a different light. They had just come under attack from unknown creatures, were stranded in the middle of the mountains without communications and with one man wounded. National Guard would likely be pissing in their pants right now, but Ethan saw no panic in the men around him. More than that, they were each hauling an extra twenty pounds of explosives in their bergens and had shown little sign of exhaustion. That required levels of fitness beyond that of a standard infantry soldier.

  ‘What’s your EVAC plan?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘We return to our infiltration point after twenty-four hours and are pulled out,’ the sergeant replied. ‘Standard procedure. A chopper will be there if we need it.’

  Lopez glanced at her watch and shook her head.

  ‘No way we can get him back down the mountains to Dixie in the few hours we’ve got left.’

  ‘We should try,’ Mary Wilkes insisted. ‘He’ll die if we don’t.’

  ‘He’ll probably die if we try it!’ Kurt Agry snapped. ‘We need to reassess the situation. No radios, we’ve lost two tents and several days’ supplies and we’re one man down.’

  Duran Wilkes looked up at the sergeant.

  ‘Not one man down,’ he replied. ‘Two.’

  Ethan looked at the old man and saw him pointing out into the woods near the edge of the treeline, right where the glow from the freshly burning camp fire ended.

  ‘Oh no,’ Lopez uttered.

  Ethan followed Sergeant Agry and his men across to where the body lay sprawled across a thick bed of damp ferns and moss.

  Lieutenant Watson was lying on his front but his face st
ared lifelessly up at them. In the flickering firelight Ethan could see that his head had been twisted back upon itself until his spine snapped like a twig, killing him instantly.

  ‘You definitely need to reassess your situation,’ Lopez said to the sergeant. ‘You’re in command.’

  In a moment of terrible realization, Ethan understood what had happened.

  ‘It planned this,’ he said finally. ‘It took Simmons down as a distraction, to get us out of the camp so it could be destroyed.’

  ‘It must have attacked Simmons because he was a sentry,’ Milner said. ‘Only way through without being spotted by the other two was right through the middle.’

  Jenkins nodded, and wiped droplets of fine drizzle from his face as he spoke.

  ‘Came from downwind of us, so if it’s some kind of wild animal it could probably home in on our scent. Hell of a thing, something that big to creep up on Simmons without him seeing it.’

  Sergeant Agry looked down at his commander’s remains, and then lifted his chin.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do for him or for Simmons tonight. We get our heads down and reassess our situation in the morning.’

  ‘Reassess our situation?’ Lopez uttered in amazement. ‘Our situation is that we’re in deep shit!’

  Ethan stepped forward. ‘He’s right, Nicola. Moving in this terrain at night is suicide. We’ve got to wait for first light.’

  Lopez fumed but took a breath and nodded once. Sergeant Agry said nothing as he stared down at his commander’s remains. Duran Wilkes looked across at the sergeant without sympathy.

  ‘Like I said, son, we shouldn’t have crossed the six-thousand-foot line. It’s onto us now and, believe me, it’s not going to let up.’

  33

  The dawn broke cold and damp and was enveloped in an eternity of silence, as though the thick veils of mist draped across the hills had trapped all sound somewhere above. Ethan rolled out of the warmth of his sleeping bag and let the cold air caress his skin. He rubbed his face with one hand and then clambered out of his tent.

  The chill air was sharp in his nose, tainted by the smell of wood smoke as Duran Wilkes tended to the flames of a meager fire in the center of the camp. Mary was gathering firewood nearby on the edge of the treeline, Klein watching her protectively with his rifle in his grasp.