Blades of Winter (7 page)

QUANTICO, VA—The Quantico police department was flooded with calls from local residents reporting gunshots and explosions at a nearby office park yesterday afternoon. Liam Parrish, a longtime Quantico resident, said, “It sounded like World War III over there.”

Apparently, an out-of-state construction crew simply forgot to notify the town of the planned demolition. The police are investigating the incident to ascertain if the crew had the required permits. Police Chief Gary Ren told reporters last night, “We’re definitely looking into this. It’s not like we just let people come into our town and blow things up.”

Overkaine is funny stuff. I normally run it in the middle of a mission, when my pulse is up and its effects are muted by the other drugs sloshing around in my brain. Now, sitting in Director Chanez’s sleek and spacious conference room, I can really tell how strong this shit is. I can’t feel my broken right hand at all. The painkillers have even affected my taste buds, because the doughnuts I’m noshing on normally seem a lot sweeter than this. I’m on a strong localized dose of Overkaine until I can get into surgery.

My hand is ruined from punching that last kidnapper’s head so hard. Dr. Herodotus has me scheduled late tonight for a complete replacement from the wrist down, which I have mixed feelings about. Losing this piece of me feels like I’m dying a little bit. But having a synthetic hand could be a great boost for my career, because the next time I smack some fool in his head, it won’t be my hand that breaks.

Meanwhile, my head swims and my right arm is all pins and needles. My undamaged left hand pops a bite of doughnut into my mouth and picks up my third cup of coffee this morning. I slept like crap last night. I’ve built up so much Post-Stimulant Sleep Disorder over the last two days that it feels like I’ll never sleep again. I guess I’ll get some rest during my surgery, if that even counts.

The door to the conference room opens, and everyone else streams in: Cyrus, Cleo, Patrick, and Patrick’s immediate
superior, Information Coordinator William Harbaugh.

“Oh,
there
you are,” Cleo says as she pulls out the chair next to me.

Patrick sits on my other side. “Look at you, first one here.”

“Yeah,” I say, “I thought I’d get a head start on the doughnuts.” Everyone chuckles as they all take their seats. Levels are notoriously late for meetings, and greater incentives than free pastries have been employed to encourage punctuality.

Director Chanez walks in with his arms full of paperwork. He chats with a fiftysomething man I’ve never met. The mystery man is medium height and slim, has salt-and-pepper hair, and wears an expensive-looking suit. His lined face is very sharp and hard, like it could split firewood. He’s familiar somehow.

Chanez sits at the head of the polished table and lays his papers down in front of him. Cyrus and Harbaugh arrange themselves on the opposite side from me. The fiftysomething man graces the chair at the foot of the table with his Brooks Brothers butt.

“Welcome, everyone,” Chanez says. Then to me, “How’s that hand, Scarlet?”

“Pretty numb, sir.”

“Hmm, yes.” He nods. “Will you be able to get into surgery?”

“Yes, sir. Tonight, at twenty-three hundred. It’s the best they could do on such short notice.”

“Well, let’s get started, then.” Chanez holds his hand toward the man at the foot of the table. “I’ll begin by welcoming our guest, Director Jakob Fredericks of the Strategic Services Council. He’s here to offer us his broad view of the international clandestine landscape.”

That’s
where I know this guy from. He’s one of the district’s biggest brainiacs. Fredericks runs his own think tank on K Street, but he used to be ExOps. In fact, he was my dad’s Front Desk, the same as Cyrus is for me
now. Except Cyrus isn’t a self-centered, conceited son of a bitch. It’s been a while, but yeah, I recognize this guy now.

Fredericks briefly flashes a row of perfectly straight teeth. “Hello, everyone,” he says. “It’s good to be back where the action is.”

Next to me, Mom sniffs sharply. She retains a polite expression, but I can tell that she’s uncomfortable. There’s an awkward pause, then Fredericks says to me, “Alix, you remember me, don’t you? Your parents had me over for dinner a few times.”

Cleo answers, “I doubt she remembers, Jakob. That was a long time ago.”

Fredericks doesn’t shift his attention away from me. “Yes.” The look in his eyes makes me feel like a prize sow at the county fair. “It was.”

The drugs and the situation prevent me from summoning one of my charmingly sarcastic replies, so I simply say, “It’s good to see you again, Director Fredericks.”

He nods, pauses, then swivels in his chair. “All right, Ed, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Director Chanez stands in front of the blabscreen on the wall. “In the last twenty-four hours we’ve had two major incidents, both involving Scarlet here. Cleo, I know you’ve already filed your report on your kidnapping, but can you summarize it for us?”

“Yes, Director.” Mom leans forward. “They were Russians. The way they handled their weapons told me they were professionals, but there was something strange about how they carried out their mission.” She tells us that the team leader had to repeat his instructions to his men and how confused the group behaved after they took her to the unused office park in Quantico. Tasks weren’t clearly assigned, and it seemed like they hadn’t had time to rehearse.

Mom continues, “Just before the ExOps team arrived, I saw the kidnappers’ leader arguing with one of his lieutenants. I didn’t catch all of what they said, but I got
the impression that they had been abandoned by their handler. The whole operation seemed poorly planned and rushed.” She leans back. Under the table, she wraps her fingers around my left hand.

Fredericks has pulled out a fancy silver pen. He slowly twirls it in his right hand. “Cleo,” he says, “am I to understand that you’ve been transferred from Administration to Operations?”

The muscles in Mom’s jaws tighten. “No, Jakob, but I’ve sat through enough meetings like this to know a blown op when I see one.”

Fredericks’s eyelids lower a little bit. “Of course.” He looks at Chanez and gestures for him to continue.

“Thank you, Cleo,” says Chanez. He reaches into the papers in front of him, plucks out a dossier, and reads from it. “Our after-action analysis of Cleo’s rescue found that all the competitors had been killed during the assault—” He glances at Cyrus, then at me. “—which was unfortunate.” Meaning ExOps couldn’t interrogate anyone because Raj and I pounded them all into guacamole.

Chanez picks up another sheet of paper. “The analysis of the firefight scene in Manhattan shows that none of the gunmen were captured or killed, but the pilots and crew of the helicopter perished during the event.” He flips a page and continues. “The wreckage of the helicopter was sifted, and the aircraft was traced to a military salvage facility in Tucson, Arizona. The records for this helicopter are incomplete, and an inquiry has been filed.” He flips the page again. “The remains of the two pilots and crewmen were examined, and their DNA was matched to the DNA records of four retired marines. These men served together as part of the United States First Naval Air Command in Tokyo. All four were dishonorably discharged three years ago for repeated violations regarding the transport of nonmilitary personnel.” Chanez raises his eyebrows and looks up from the report.
“They were airlifting prostitutes from Tokyo to the USMC base on Okinawa.” He returns to the sheets. “Since then, their whereabouts and activities have been unknown.”

Chanez lays the reports down on the table and studies me. “That was quite a crew you took on, Scarlet.”

My cheeks flush. “Yes, sir.”

“Cyrus,” Fredericks says as he calmly regards his pen. “I must point out that when I had your job, I never would have assigned that mission to such an incompetent Level.”

“Hey!” I blurt. “I’m right fuckin’ here, you know.” I tap my chest.

Fredericks, unfazed, continues to address Cyrus. “She can’t even control herself in a meeting.”

I holler, “Well, I’m not some lily-livered desk jockey who falls apart every time the shit hits the fan!”

That
gets ol’ Jakey’s attention. Fredericks swivels toward me like a turret on a battleship. “Scarlet, you blew your cover on a Level 12
covert operation
! Not at some damned meeting of the Five O’Clock Club!” He slaps the table. “If I were your boss, I’d put you in front of a review board.”

My lip curls into a snarl. I lean forward and—

“That’ll be all, Scarlet!” Chanez snaps. “Thank you for your input, Director Fredericks. Be assured that Cyrus and I are working with Scarlet to optimize her Development Schedule.”

Fredericks locks eyes with Chanez for a moment. “Very well, Ed. Let’s get on with this.” He smoothes his hair and resumes twirling his pen across his fingers.

“Son of a bitch!” I comm to Trick.

Trick comms back, “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I am
not
incompetent!”

“Settle down, Hot Stuff. Here’s something to consider. Fredericks thinks you were
assigned
to the Hector job.”

I try to slow my breathing and comm, “Huh, yeah, I guess he does. Is Chanez gonna tell him that I, um, took the initiative on that one?”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

Chanez selects another file from his heap and hands it to Harbaugh. “Bill, this is your signals intelligence report. Why don’t you walk us through what your people have found.”

Harbaugh stands up and takes Chanez’s place in front of the blabscreen. He adjusts his tie and clears his throat. “We picked up Hector’s comm signal at the airport in Paris, which is how we knew to tail him when he landed in New York.” Harbaugh informs us that there was no related comm activity until Hector and I got to the restaurant in Manhattan. Once inside, things picked up speed and the comms started flying.

“The comm calls were very heavily encrypted, and their origins and destinations were spoofed in a maze of routers and proxies. We may never unravel the locations except for the comms we intercepted at their origins. But after twenty-five hours we cracked the encryption.”

Ooh, this sounds good. Everyone perks up. Fredericks is especially interested. He sits up straight and stops fiddling with his pen, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Harbaugh says, “The calls were sent without any vox data, so we don’t have their voices or inflections.”

Fredericks shuts his mouth and glances around the room. I quickly look to the front of the room as Harbaugh uses a small remote control to activate the blabscreen.

“We’ve assigned labels to the unknown suspects—XSUS One and XSUS Two—and used names for the suspects we do know. Once Hector went into his meeting with the female Protector, we began directly monitoring the restaurant. This is how we nabbed their comms as they were transmitted. Scarlet, you’ll appreciate the name we’ve given the Protector.”

He brings up a slide of text. On the screen we see:

Jackie-O to XSUS One: “Our guest says, ‘I thought you should know, the report about the Beast is false. He is alive and has been transferred to Carbon.’ [pause] I am being watched by an unknown competitor.”

Harbaugh comments, “That was the Protector relaying the message she got from Hector. An image file was attached. We think she took a picture of Scarlet with the cameras in her lenses. After the image was forwarded, we have this.”

XSUS One to Jackie-O: “Keep the competitor in place. Stand by for further instructions.”

Harbaugh pauses to let us read the line, then says, “Thirty minutes later, XSUS One is back.” He clicks his remote, and the next line of text appears on the screen.

XSUS One to Jackie-O: “Help is outside. Dismiss guest and terminate competitor.”

“And … well, we all know what happened next.” Harbaugh’s eyes dart my way. Everyone looks at me. I gulp down the last of my coffee and try to act like it’s no big deal to be the center of this much high-ranking attention. Trick’s hand squeezes my thigh under the table and he tries not to smile. I look past Trick’s face and see Fredericks pull a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and pat his forehead with it.

Harbaugh brings up several more lines. “Seven minutes after the firefight, this comm was sent. We were tracking Hector, so we know this is from him. Here we meet our fourth player, whom we’ve labeled XSUS Two.”

Hector to XSUS Two: “Message delivered, but the meeting ended abruptly.”

“Now we have a line on XSUS One’s comm signal and that of XSUS Two, which is how we picked up this rather heated exchange between the two of them less than a minute later.” Harbaugh fills the screen with six lines of text.

One to Two: “I got your message, but the meeting was broken up.”

Two: “I heard. We will take care of it.”

One: “What have you done to alert the Americans?”

Two: “What makes you think they know anything about this?”

One: “Because it was your organization he—”

Two: “Quiet! Someone may be listening. Why do you think I sent our man?”

Fredericks wipes his forehead with his handkerchief. His face is pale.

“Jakob, are you all right?” Chanez asks. “Do you need some water?”

“No, no,” Fredericks insists. He stuffs his handkerchief back in his pocket. “I’m fine, Bill.”

Harbaugh gives Fredericks a few more moments. Then he says, “Finally, we have this.” The screen displays one last line.

One to Two: “But they didn’t send just anyone. They sent his daughter.”

Harbaugh and Chanez have already figured out what this final line means, so they don’t react. Fredericks turns as white as a ghost. His forehead gleams with sweat, but he remains silent while the rest of us all start jabbering at once.