The Dark Side of Angels

by Steve Hadden

  Special Agent Connelly appeared in the door, holding a bulging folio. “They here yet?”

  Reed pointed to the side chair. “He’s on his way up.”

  Connelly sat. “We should have Clarke’s closest connection in a few minutes. Downed trees and traffic lights from this storm slowed the team a bit.” He pulled a sheet of paper from the folio. “Sergio Martinez. Served in Afghanistan, then with Clarke in Iraq. Lots of social media connecting them. Heads Donnelly Marine.”

  Reed did his best to hide his reaction to the mention of Afghanistan. “The man’s done well for himself.”

  Connelly nodded. “Took over his father’s business and tripled its size.”

  “I saw that on a story about him on the news last year.” Reed remembered seeing the vet’s prosthetic leg. “Always good to see a wounded vet make it all the way back.”

  Supervisory Special Agent James Clancy appeared at the door. His thin physique, ivory complexion and thick-rimmed glasses amplified his role as the leader of a sophisticated team of cyber hunters who spent most of their time at a keyboard. Reed was glad to have the Regional Computer Forensics Lab and several of the Cyber Division’s best Cyber Action Teams in the same building complex. “Excuse me, sir. Are you ready for my briefing?”

  Reed waved him in. “We’re ready. This is Special Agent Connelly.”

  Connelly shook Clancy’s hand as he took the second side chair in front of Reed’s desk.

  “Okay. Tell me what you found—in plain English, please.”

  “Yes, sir. The attack was multifaceted. They struck the facility and physically removed all computers and drives in the lab. But they also executed a coordinated attack on the cloud server that backed up everything. They removed nearly all the lab’s data. Then they uploaded a virus to the backup cloud service the lab was using and erased it. We’ve coordinated with DOD and Homeland and their TTP—” Clancy caught himself. “Sorry, sir. The tools, techniques and procedures signature was consistent with what we’ve seen from hackers working with the Ministry of State Security.”

  “The Chinese are working with her?” Connelly asked.

  “It certainly looks that way.”

  “Can you follow it? The data?” Reed asked.

  Clancy shook his head. “We can’t find any indication of an attempt to transfer the data. We think they’ll download it to a portable storage device and carry it to its final destination. Get it off the grid and eliminate any cyber trail. They used the same technique in the Northern California Peng case.”

  Reed remembered the case. A tour guide for Chinese visitors conducted dead drops delivering memory cards to the MSS agents for cash.

  “But you traced the intrusion and showed it originating in China?” Connelly asked.

  “No, sir. That’s the interesting thing here. It originated from somewhere in Southern California. We suspect they used one of the computers from the lab. The cyberattack occurred minutes after the attack on the lab.”

  “When you get a more specific lo—”

  Reed’s desk phone rang. It was the operations center. He picked up. “Reed.”

  “Sir. We have a report of an explosion and fire at a facility owned by Donnelly Marine.”

  He hit the speaker-phone button. “Location?”

  “On Shelter Island Drive. America’s Cup Harbor. And, sir … agents on location say someone may have escaped to the water.”

  “Did we notify the Coast Guard?”

  “Yes, sir. The Coast Guard says they’re grounded by the storm except for search and rescue. Says anyone out on the water in a small craft will most likely be a fatality.”

  “Keep me updated.” He ended the call.

  “Martinez?” Connelly asked.

  “Clarke and Covington are working together.” Reed stood and Connelly and Clancy did, too. Reed pointed at Clancy. “Get me a location.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Reed watched the fire trucks keep vigil over what was left of Donnelly Marine’s boat shop. Steam rose from a few glowing hot spots. The corrugated aluminum frame looked as if it had been peeled like an orange, then melted. Scorched piping reached from the rubble and Reed thought he could make out the remnants of a boat or two. Clearly an explosion and fire. Beyond the shipyard behind the rubble, Reed could see the dock. A few masts rocked in the vicious wind and he noticed the one empty slip. A heavy mist drifted from the dock as each wave crashed against the piles and vaporized in the wind. Covington was out there, headed either south to Mexico or north to the Los Angeles area, where she’d disappear among the ten million people crammed into the land that had once been the promise of a new and better life.

  Reed stepped from the car and was shoved by a heavy gust of wind. Connelly rushed from the passenger’s side and around the back of the car toward the agents interviewing the fire crew, who were enjoying the shelter of an adjacent building. Cold rain stung Reed’s face and he shielded his eyes from the bulletlike raindrops. He eyed the smoldering building. It was déjà vu. Covington liked explosions, fire and death. For the third time in less than thirty-six hours, he witnessed her carnage.

  “Sir.” Connelly had returned. “Maybe we should get out of this.”

  Reed shook his head. Then he decided Connelly was right. They reentered the car. “What do you have?”

  “Captain says fire, then explosion. There is some evidence that it could have been set. Lots of flammable chemicals in use here. Once the fire got hot and entered the storage area, it blew.”

  “What about fire suppression?”

  “Captain said the riser valve was closed.”

  “Closed?”

  “Someone closed it to be sure the fire spread.”

  If someone shut off the valve, their intent was either to trap and kill someone or destroy evidence. “Did they see any bodies in the rubble?” Reed asked.

  “No, sir. Not so far. We have the ERT on their way. We’ll check it out pretty quickly.”

  “Video?”

  “Don’t know yet. The DVR was in the office at the northwest corner of the building. They found it intact. The adjacent building’s camera caught three people headed out the back. They’d crashed through a wall, then ran to the boat and left.”

  “Three?”

  Connelly nodded.

  “Has to be Covington, Clarke and Martinez. But why break through the back of the building?”

  “Based on the video, they said it was already on fire.”

  “So they trapped themselves?” As soon as those words crossed his lips, Reed knew that didn’t sound right.

  “Or they were running from someone else?” Connelly said.

  “Or maybe they were just destroying evidence. But why draw so much attention to themselves?” Reed said. “Stay here.” He stepped from the car and felt the biting rain again as he walked around the rubble and down to the dock. Now he was being drenched with the spray from the waves. He pulled his raincoat tight around his neck. He looked out into the black water. Something just didn’t fit.

  Reed knew Covington might be working with the Chinese. The MSS could have turned on them. But Covington would have planned this. She would have thought through every detail and left little to chance. Her profile said she was meticulous and could sort through risks and quickly mitigate them. That was how she’d gotten the technology to this point. So something went wrong.

  He looked back at the steaming shop and spotted the burned-out forklift and the hole in what was left of the back wall. He thought about the young reporter’s insistence that something didn’t fit. For the first time, doubt corroded his thesis. If Covington wasn’t guilty, who was?

  He turned and stared out into the darkness. Either way, Covington had to be caught. Whether she was behind it or a victim, his path to justice still went through her. But throughout history, the sea had a way of delivering its own justice. And tonight, it looked like the sea would steal his best chance to find it.

  CHAPTER 30

  Kayla watched the waves d
evour the bow and wondered how long the boat could take this beating. Sergio had kept the Sea Ray moving north in a zigzag pattern to avoid a broadside hit. At nearly twenty feet, the waves dwarfed the craft and churned and growled in the darkness until they leapt over the bow lights and crashed onto the deck and windshield. Her hands ached from gripping the side of the console as Sergio battled the wheel and worked the throttle. Harrison braced himself next to Sergio, keeping Sergio at the helm. Kayla’s ankles also ached from the frigid seawater sloshing at her feet. It drained into the lower berths as each wave rushed over the roof and found its way into the opening at the back of the cabin. She was thankful for the life vests Sergio had given them.

  They’d been at it for four hours. Sergio had said the trip, in good weather, took two. Now he eyed the display glowing in the darkness. “We’re a mile out, but the bilge pump isn’t keeping up. If the water gets to the engine, we’re getting wet. Get the dry bags on now.”

  Kayla untied the orange cylindrical bags lashed to the seats behind them. Kayla handed one to Harrison and tied the tether from the other around her waist. Each bag held cash, guns and phones.

  Sergio nodded. “Okay. Here we go.” He turned the wheel to the right and the display showed them headed toward the shoreline. Immediately, a wave crashed over the stern and Kayla was slammed forward. She hit the console, then the deck. Ice-cold water rushed over her as the wave entered the cabin. She scrambled to her feet with a coordination and speed she hadn’t felt in years.

  She spotted Harrison pressing himself off the floor and pulling Sergio to his feet.

  “You okay?” she yelled.

  “I’m good,” Harrison said, staring at her with an expression of disbelief. “It’s working.”

  Kayla knew what he meant. RGR was reversing the deterioration her body had experienced over her lifetime. This was the first time she showed outward signs of getting younger. She nodded in acknowledgment.

  Sergio regained control and sped up. Kayla guessed he was trying to find the precise speed that would keep them between swells. Ahead, a faint yellow glow appeared in the darkness.

  “Dana Point,” Sergio yelled. “We’ll head in there and find shelter near the marina. My cousin has a vacation rental she’s set up for us. Address and keys are in your bags.”

  The glow ahead had turned into distinct points of coastal lighting. The boat jumped and another wave crashed into the cabin. This time, Kayla stayed standing. Harrison pinned Sergio against the controls, keeping them both from falling.

  When Harrison leaned back into position, Sergio looked at the panel. “Shit.”

  “What is it?” Harrison said.

  “Bilge is out.”

  The boat’s engine cut out and the cabin went black. Harrison grabbed her arm, and the boat violently rocked once. The deck seemed to turn below her feet. She was flipped sideways and into the opposite side of the cabin. Harrison landed on top of her, then frigid cold water enveloped her. She tried to suck in a breath, but the water overwhelmed her. Harrison’s weight disappeared and she became buoyant. She was slammed into something and rolled upside down. She was sloshing like clothes in a nearly empty washing machine. She beat back the panic as it fought to paralyze her. Her lungs and eyes burned, and she remembered the layout of the cabin. But she was disoriented and wasn’t sure of her path to the stern. They’d capsized, and if she guessed wrong, the elegant boat would be her tomb.

  She realized the life vest would take her in the right direction. She momentarily relaxed and noted the direction the vest was taking her. She was rocked again, then pulled downward by her vest. It apparently had hooked on something in the cabin as the boat sank. She was out of air and clawed in the opposite direction. But she was pulled down farther. Checking the vest with her hands, she found it hooked on something. She felt the armrest it was caught on and slipped the vest free. She rocketed in the opposite direction. A seat clipped her hip and her side exploded in pain, then she cleared the boat.

  Unsure how deep she’d been dragged, she fought hard, tearing at the jostling water. She broke through to the surface and was immediately slammed by the crest of another wave. She surfaced again, choking for air, and bobbed over the next swell. The light from shore was enough to see the dark churning surface of the water. No sign of the boat. No sign of Harrison or Sergio. Shivering, she fought over the next wave and reality sank in. Death could tug her under at any time. One thought flashed into her mind. My daughter will never know the truth …

  CHAPTER 31

  Kayla fought back against the relentless violence of the ocean, driven by a terror more primal than anything she’d felt before. In the darkness, the roar of the whitecaps announced their arrival seconds before she was lifted and then driven under by their leaden force. She quickly adjusted and tried to duck under as she battled the buoyancy of her vest. She found a rhythm that worked and used the time between the attacks to survey the choppy surface. Her eyes burned, but still she scanned the water for any sign of Harrison. With Sergio trapped at the helm, she gave him little chance that he’d make it back to the surface. That thought crushed her spirit.

  She kicked hard to rotate and maneuver in the water. Still, her legs dangled completely exposed and vulnerable to the denizens that roamed the deep ocean beneath her. Her teeth chattered and she tasted the salty frigid water on her tongue.

  “Harrison!” she yelled in the valleys between the waves. But there was no answer. She’d studied cold-water survival when she was in Washington and kayaked in the cold lakes there. She had less than an hour before she’d pass out, if she didn’t drown first. She delayed her dive and rose up the next wave and examined the shoreline. She guessed she had a half-mile swim. She’d done that many times training for triathlons. But not in frigid water that could kill her. If she was going to do it, she had to go now before hypothermia could set in.

  But the thought of leaving Harrison here generated an empty heaviness in her body that made it hard to swim. She was trapped in that awful sensation she had just before she cried, without any prospect of the release of actually crying. She could stay here and, if he was dead, die with him. She’d left him behind once, and she’d rather die than do it again.

  The next wave hit her, and when she surfaced, clarity struck her. In her body was the only known sample of the technology that would eradicate so much pain and suffering in the world. As long as she was alive, the genetic instructions deciphered from the small jellyfish that lived in this very ocean would be preserved in her cells. She thought of her father, struggling with his Parkinson’s. He and millions of others would get a second chance. And she knew it worked. She was living proof.

  Energized by remembering why she pursued the development of RGR in the first place, she turned with the next wave and swam for shore. She quickly reached her rhythm again, dodging the crushing wave tops as they broke. As she got closer to shore, she knew she’d have to shed her life jacket to get deep enough below the breakers. She abandoned the jacket, knowing it was the only thing that had kept her alive. She rode the face of the waves, then turned in to them, diving beneath them. Then she’d turn and swim like hell again. She felt strong, but that strength was fading. She could see the beach in the lights from the huge homes on the small cliff above the beach. She recognized Dana Strands Beach. She’d been there with Harrison.

  She was too tired to dive, and the waves were now crashing atop her. But she caught one perfectly and it rolled her all the way to the beach. She wallowed on her stomach until she felt the cold, soft sand. She rolled over and looked back at the fierce sea and wiped the tears from her eyes. Harrison was gone again—this time for good.

  Harrison had been the person who made her whole after she’d fallen apart. He’d loved the parts of her that no one else could see. Now, he’d died because of her. She collapsed and her cheek sank into the cold sand. Adrift in an ocean of sadness, her lower lip quivered. In that moment, she realized that the parts of her he’d loved had died with him. And that em
ptiness would last for the rest of her life, however long that would be.

  CHAPTER 32

  The emergency meeting of the executive council of the Human Preservation Project had started at 6 a.m. Even though it was Saturday, Neville knew they needed to get clear on their public position before the news cycle spun up on the West Coast. The conference room looked over Puget Sound from the twelfth floor of the foundation’s headquarters Neville and Charlotte had built on the north edge of Seattle five years ago. It was still dark, other than the lights from a pair of container ships headed to and from the port. Neville’s fate rested with Covington, in that same darkness somewhere in Southern California.

  Despite knowing more than anyone in the room, Neville had to release all knowledge of the truth from his conscious mind. Signaling it in any way would end his life as he knew it. To mask his deception from Charlotte, he was planning a surprise dinner for her and would use that as an excuse if she confronted him about any deceit she or the SZENSOR technology detected in him..

  Charlotte had taken her car and met him there. The nanny had been late and Charlotte had suggested he go ahead of her. She sat across from him, flipping through the small packet of articles and a briefing Ezekiel Cain had provided. As executive director of the HPP, Cain was leading the meeting. Dr. Mark Meyer, the chief science officer, sat next to Neville. Normally, Neville appreciated Meyer’s balanced view of the science, but that would work against him now. Donna Patton, the vice president of public and government affairs, sat next to Charlotte.

  Cain started. “As you can see, this incident in La Jolla has exploded in the media. It’s the lead story on every news channel and the top trending story on Twitter. Scientists on both sides are promoting their beliefs to any talking head who will put them on the air—and there’s an unlimited supply of those. I’ve asked Donna to draft a statement and talking points.” Cain looked at Neville. “Their basis is the interview you gave the reporter from the San Diego Union-Tribune.”