by Jack Bowie
He looked exactly as he had when Braxton had last seen him over a year ago. Heavyset, but solid, with short gray hair and gold-rimmed aviator glasses. A face that hid more stories than Braxton could imagine. He looked like a soldier forced into a business suit that he didn’t want.
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you, Mr. Slattery,” Braxton said taking his hand. “You can imagine my excitement.”
“Good to see you again,” Slattery replied, ignoring the barb. “I was in the area and wanted to stop by.”
“Of course you were.” Braxton pointed to the chair opposite his desk. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
After helping to solve the Liberty Covenant conspiracy last year, Slattery had been named chief of the CIA’s Counterterrorism Center. Hardly a public appointment, Braxton had heard the news from his DoD contacts.
“Thank you. I should have known you would find out. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.”
Braxton nodded politely and waited. He wasn’t going to make the agent’s objective, whatever it was, any easier.
“Well, I guess I should get to the point,” Slattery finally said. “I’d like you to do some work for us.”
Braxton’s heart stopped. He grabbed the edge of his desk for stability and tried to keep his breathing steady, but a tell-tale bead of sweat trickled past his temple.
“Actually, it’s not for the Agency directly,” Slattery continued. “You’re familiar with In-Q-Tel?”
Braxton’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to place the name. Then it clicked.
“The CIA’s venture capital company right? You’re involved?”
“Yes. In one of my weaker moments, I accepted a position on their Board of Directors. Now I spend half my time reading investment proposals written by hotshots barely older than my son describing technologies I can’t understand. It’s great fun.”
Slattery paused and Braxton honestly felt sorry for the spook. If there was one thing Braxton understood about him, it was that Slattery wasn’t a man to sit back while events rushed past. Sitting at his desk reviewing piles of financial reports must be killing him.
“Anyway,” Slattery continued without missing a beat, “we’re interested in investing in a small company and need a security audit performed as part of our due diligence. I thought you might be interested.”
“Why me? The CIA must have lots of contractors they can call on. To say nothing of internal resources.”
“Of course. But this is an important opportunity. And honestly, I trust you. Everyone has their own agendas and I’d like this particular audit done right. Think of it as a favor for past assistance.”
Braxton felt his face flush. He wanted to light into the spook, but arguing the point again wasn’t going to accomplish anything. He took a deep breath instead.
“I’ll let that comment pass, Slattery. I’m interested but can you tell me what kind of company I’d be dealing with? There’s a rumor going around that the ‘Q’ in In-Q-Tel refers to James Bond’s armorer. I’m not excited about working in a munitions factory.”
Slattery smiled and shook his head. “Nothing like that. I can’t give you a name without a non-disclosure, but it’s a genetics company. Laboratory equipment and analysis software. And no one is making killer bugs this time. Still interested?”
“Sure. As long as you can pay my rates.”
“Right. This is strict GSA, Adam. And don’t give me any grief, I know you have a Schedule. I’ll get a draft contract over this afternoon. Give it a look and get back to me. As soon as you can. We’re under a bit of a tight schedule.”
“Uh, sure. I can review it tonight,” Braxton said.
Slattery abruptly rose and extended his hand. “Great. I really do appreciate this, Adam.”
They shook hands and Slattery headed for the door.
Then he stopped and turned back. “One more thing, Adam. The company’s in Boston. I thought that might pique your interest.”
As the spook disappeared into the outer office, Braxton dropped back in his chair and let the spook’s final comment sink in. Images flashed through his mind. Some pleasant, others not so. Boston. Dinners with Megan at their favorite restaurant in the North End. Running circuits over the Charles River bridges. And the boarded-up window in his Cambridge apartment after Paul had been murdered.
Do I have the courage to go back?
“You okay?” Chu asked appearing at the door to his office. “What did Mr. Smith want this time?”
“Nothing nefarious so far as I can tell. He wants me to do a security audit of a company.”
Chu stood silently and crossed her arms over her slim body. “Are you sure you want to do that?” she finally asked.
“I think so. It’s just a job this time. How much trouble could a security audit be?”
Acknowledgements
The Liberty Covenant is a work of fiction, but many of the themes are real: the militia movement in the U.S. is a major focus of the FBI, although these groups remain uncoordinated; the Clipper Chip was real, but the Gambit is my invention; C. Pneumoniae is an actual bacteria, only the described strain is fictional; and MIT does have a celebrated history of benign hacks, the Harvard-Yale escapade being one of the best known (you can see it live here: http://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/blog/2012/11/16/day-mit-crashed-harvard-yale/).
The story draws on the memories and experiences of many more individuals than I am able to name. My thanks to you all. Some names, facts and times have been changed to fit the storyline. All errors are mine.
Thanks to John Carter, from Vermont not Mars, for his support and high-tech insights.
Thanks to Annie Wertz for her assistance with understanding life at Yale.
A special thanks to Jim Arsenault, long-time friend and meticulous reviewer, for his spot-on comments and corrections to early drafts.
And finally, thanks to my wife Sharon, and daughters Lisa and Jennifer, for your continuing understanding and encouragement in my new journey as an author. I couldn’t do it without you.
About the Author
Jack Bowie was born and raised outside of Cleveland, Ohio, then headed to Cambridge, Massachusetts to attend MIT. After graduating, he held technical management positions in public and private sector organizations in Massachusetts, Virginia and Connecticut.
A lifelong reader of classic science fiction and espionage thrillers, Jack's writing began as a break from professional duties and grew into a passion for storytelling.
Drawing on his career as a researcher, engineer and high-tech executive, Jack’s novels describe the subtle, and sometimes not so subtle, interplay of technology with personal passions and egos.
For more information on Jack, check out www.JackBowie.com, or follow him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jackbowieauthor.
