Dark Secret (DARC Ops Book 1) (17 page)

C
ontrolled chaos
.

Or at least a thin veil between the calm, orderly search for Mira, and what Jackson really wanted to do: scurry from room to room in a desperate, frantic rush.

“Slow down,” Matthias had told him when he noticed his boss was about to take the latter approach. “We can’t afford to attract any more attention.” But Jackson knew he could only keep it bottled up for so long. As time wore on, and as they cleared room after empty room, the leader of DARC Ops was dangerously close to screaming Mira’s name at the top of his lungs.

Throughout their search, they were yet to come across either Langhorne or his assistant—which bugged the shit out of him. Maybe it was normal for her to be rushed off with them somewhere, for some official business perhaps. An emergency translation. But no amount of hopeful rationalizing could take away the sight of her purposely crushed earrings. Nor the immediate impression they gave him, a nausea that seemed to grow and rot in his stomach even as he hustled down the ballroom stairs.

In the banquet hall, the party was in full swing. The lights were dimmed. The music and the chatter were equally loud. Everywhere he looked, happy couples were dancing, laughing. His eyes stopped on every woman in a short, black dress, wanting so badly for each of them to be Mira. But when they finally turned around to reveal their faces, or when he noticed their hair was a different color or cut, he'd feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper. With each non-Mira, a new level of anxiety bloomed in his gut. At this point, he'd be perfectly fine if he'd suddenly caught her making out with Chuck on the dance floor. He'd be overjoyed with that if it meant she was safe and unharmed.

Jackson, along with Tansy and Matthias, left the ball to circle back to the storage rooms. It was where their search had begun, the site of Mira's earrings. They retraced their steps, ending up in some dark little room full of empty cardboard boxes. Jackson had Tansy pull out his computer to try to find a signal again, any signal at all. They huddled around its glowing screen as Tansy worked his magic.

“If she's still got her phone, we might be in business,” said Tansy. “I told her about the ping-back trick.”

“So maybe you should stay here and set up a command post. You can help guide the search while monitoring for any incoming pings or contact.”

“Can you try pinging her phone the other way?” Matthias asked.

“There's no response,” said Tansy.

Fuck... Even if her phone was out of battery power, it should still register and show its physical location to Tansy. The fact that it was a complete no-show meant it was either a dozen miles away or destroyed like her earrings. Jackson wasn’t comfortable with either scenario.

“What else does she have on her?” asked Matthias.

Tansy shook his head. “Just those fucking earrings. Well, she
did
have them.”

“Try her phone again,” said Jackson.

“There's nothing. It’s vanished.”

“I know,” The distinct lack of options left closed down around Jackson like prison walls. “But sometimes”—damn, he was grasping at straws now—“Maybe it's a glitch.”

“It's no glitch, Jack.”

“Just try it.”

Tansy sighed and pinged her phone again.

Please, please, fucking please... Jackson watched impatiently as the dots moved across the screen:

….........................................................................PING ENDED.

“Fuck it. Alright, Matthias, let's go.” Jackson said, and the two men walked to the door. “I'll check the top floors and the roof. You head down for a perimeter check. And while you're doing that, look out for Team Charlie and give them orders to sweep the building from the ground up. I don't care if that means we have to put a damper on this little—”

“Jackson!” Tansy shouted. “I got something!”

He rushed back to the computer, where a glowing dot pulsated on the screen.

“Is that her?”

“I don't know, I need to access it. Hold on.” Tansy typed furiously through a few different screens and interfaces. “We can't go all gung-ho just yet. It might be someone on Langhorne's team trying to figure us out or lure us in.”

Without looking, Jackson ran his hand along the compartments of his utility belt, taking a mental inventory of his weapon and magazines. In his head, he went through the rudiments and the checklists of close-quarters contact. He was ready for contact. He wanted it.

“I can gain access through my backdoor if it’s one of their infected computers,” said Tansy. “Yep, see? We've got their IP now and I think we're close enough for a wireless signal.”

“Can you access the webcam?” asked Jackson.

Tansy didn’t reply, his hands moving faster than his mouth. The computer screen suddenly flipped to someone else's desktop. Remote access. They now had access to the computer that had just pinged them.

“Just a warning,” said Tansy. “Depending on how good this guy is, he might be able to tell our location.”

“What if it's Mira?” asked Matthias.

His question was answered when the webcam flicked on.

At first, Jackson was elated.

It was Mira.

But the way she looked almost made him wish it wasn’t.

“
N
inaomba msaada
,” Mira said, a plea for help directed at the two brutes standing by the door. But it just made them laugh. She then asked if they had souls, and if they were worried where they would end up in the afterlife. Apparently, they weren’t worried because their response was a simple shrug of the shoulders. “Well, can you at least check on my father?” she asked in English. “Please?”

Her father had stopped moving since Chuck left the room about fifteen minutes ago. On one hand, it was a nice reprieve from having to witness his agony, his twisting and groaning on the floor. But now, with his stillness, and the blood pooling into the carpet beneath him...

“Is he even breathing?” she asked as one of Chuck's goons poked her father with the sharp end of a snapped broom handle. “Is he alive?” Her voice rose in pitch and Mira felt like she was only a few breaths away from slipping into hysteria.

“He's fine,” said the man with the stick. “Kulala.” Sleeping.

The door suddenly swung open and Chuck appeared. He looked angry. Beads of sweat were glistening across his forehead. “Why do I hear talking?” he asked his guards. “Don't say a fucking word to her. Got it?” And then he turned his attention to Mira. “You think they'll help you just because you speak Swahili?”

“I just wanted to—”

“Stop it. Stop trying to get into their heads,” said Chuck. “They're dumb as rocks, anyway.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and then walked over to the table with the wine bottle, grabbing it and taking a few more gulps. “And on top of that, these are some real sinister dudes right here. Who do you think beat up your dad like that? Huh? Not me. You think I've got the strength to crack his skull like that? The guy probably has brain damage.” He turned to his thugs. “Hey? This guy got brain damage or what?”

They shrugged again and started chuckling like the evil henchmen they were.

“Yeah, you cracked him up pretty good. You shoulda seen him, Mira. Fuckin' blah-blah-blah, babbling like a retard after that. Brain damaged, probably. Now, if you
want
, we can keep going. It doesn’t matter if he's already unconscious, we can keep going. It's all up to you.”

“I'm... I'm doing everything that I'm... Uh... I'm
translating
. I'm working. Can you just—”

“What are you doing?” asked Chuck.

“What?”

“Read it out to me.”

Mira scrolled to the top of her new document, reading a rough translation which summarized the details of a deal going from bad to worse. The language from his Kenyan contacts had become increasingly hostile. Threatening, even.

“Your lack of response...
timely
response, has led us to assume... negligence... That negligent action on you, your, uh...” Mira sighed. Exhaustion was starting to wrestle with her fear, and she felt it seep into her bones.

“And then what?” asked Chuck.

“That's it.”

“That's all it says?”

“It's as far as I’ve gotten.”

Chuck shook his head, saying, “Mira, Mira... I'm sorry, but this whole process is taking way too long. I don't know if you're sandbagging or what, but you’re really starting to annoy me.”

“I'm trying! I'm trying, but... I'm scared.” She looked down at her screen, to a small window in the lower corner which meant that Tansy was still in contact with her.

“Were you scared when you copied our files?” asked Chuck with a sneer. “Or when you sent in that virus? You seemed to handle
that
pretty well.”

It was all a matter of buying time, that much she knew. The longer she held out, the more time Jackson had to locate her. “I'm going as fast as I can, Chuck. I
am
.”

“You can understand why I'm upset, right? I mean, here I am just working, just trying to make a
living
. And then you come along and ruin all of my business deals. My relationships.”

“I'm sorry,” Mira said, doing her best to sound meek, compliant.

“You're
sorry
?”

“I mean... I had no idea you were involved.”

“Okay, stop. Stop what you're doing. Okay? Forget their messages. Forget translating them.” Chuck reached into his jacket breast pocket and pulled out a small silver vile. “What I need now, is for you to write and encrypt a response for them. Can you handle that?” He unscrewed the vile and tapped out a line of white powder on the top of his hand. And then he turned to his guards. “Here, you guys want some, too? Nah, I'm just kidding. Alright, anyway...” He brought his hand to his face, consuming the powder in a loud snort. “Anyway, Mira, get on that. Apologize to them, and then explain that we've had an infiltrator.” He licked the rest of the powder off his hand. “But now we've neutralized it.”

Mira started writing out the words. Out of a combination of disobedience and fear, she did a half-assed job, presenting him with an intentionally misleading interpretation. But sending it, actually putting him in contact with his Kenyan criminals to have the weapons released was a different story. She couldn’t let his message actually send.

“In case you're wondering,” he said with a smile, “that's you. The infiltrator. And you've been neutralized. To what extent we further neutralize you and your father is still up in the air. And I guess it depends on how well you cooperate from here on out.”

Mira knew exactly how far she’d cooperate. If she did anything to actually help facilitate the arms deal, even if the whole ring eventually got busted... No, she couldn’t do it. And as much as she loved her father, she knew he’d feel the same way.

“Mira? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I'm cooperating.”

“No, you're not. You're just sitting there, staring at me like an idiot.” Chuck started pacing around the room, his face sweaty and flushed. “Well, go! Get busy!”

Mira went back to work on the laptop, opening up a new window.

“See? That's exactly what I mean. You're
stalling
.”

“I'm not!”

“It's so funny how fast you were to fuck me over. You jumped right in. But now you—”

“Can you shut up!?” Mira felt herself unraveling. “Please! I'm working as fast as I can!”

Chuck stood still for a minute, just long enough to dump out another line of coke on his hand. “Do you know how quickly you ruined everything for me?” He snorted it as fast as he'd laid it out. “It happened like that”—he snapped his fingers and a tiny remnant of fine white powder flew into the air—“Just like that. And it had nothing to fucking do with you! That's the part that kills me. It absolutely kills me, Mira.”

“Well, get over it,” she said, her voice cold.

“I don't know,” said Chuck, standing menacingly over her father. “I just don't know if I can.”

Mira didn’t like how he was looking at her dad. “Alright, Chuck... Who do you want to get in contact with? Tango Man? Fisherking? The Fox-Trotter?”

“Who the fuck are they?” asked Chuck, walking over to her. “What are you looking at?”

“Well, who am I trying to reach?”

“Mark Dyson,” he said.

Mira let that sink in, a new name to add to her list.

She lost herself for a minute, imagining the glorious day when all of Langhorne's scumbags would be carted off to jail. Then Chuck's hand smacked the back of her head.

“What is that?!” he screamed.

Oh fuck... She’d left the dialogue box with Tansy open.

“You fucker! You fucking whore!”

“What?” cried Mira, feigning innocence. That was about the only hope she had left.

He grabbed the laptop away from her and inspected it. “Why is the fuckin' webcam light on?!”

Mira felt something cold and hard pressed against her temple. There was a blinding flash and then everything went dark and quiet.

J
ackson had approached
the room silently. He'd opened the door just wide enough to slip in a stun grenade. And after its concussive force had rocked the small wine cellar, Jackson's crew had five seconds before the room's occupants would regain their senses. It was cleanup time. And first on the list was Chuck, who dropped immediately from Jackson's .40 caliber double-tap before he could do anything with the gun he had aimed at Mira’s head. Instead, he died as he lived, like an ignorant schmuck.

Tansy and Matthias were assigned the other two combatants, but they were smart enough to drop down on their bellies in the prone position. They either had a lot of experience being out-gunned by tactical units, or they just weren’t being paid enough by Langhorne.

Mira...

Jackson rushed up to her chair before the smoke cleared.

She was moaning, bruised, and disoriented, but alive.

Thank God she’s alive.

He untied the straps biding her to the chair as fast as he could. “You're okay, baby. You made it,” he said, crouching next to the chair as he loosened the bonds. “We made it.”

She was squinting hard, her eyes looking through Jackson as if she was blind. His panic returned and he ran his hands over her, looking for injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

“I can't see” cried Mira, her hand coming loose from the straps and clawing at her eyes. “I can't see!”

“Mira, stop.” He grabbed her hand away from her face. “It's okay. It's just temporary.”

She reached out through her blindness and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Jackson,” she wailed. “Oh my God, Jackson...”

“It's okay, Mira. It's all over.”

“No... ” Her shaking body slid off the chair and collapsed into him. “They killed my dad!”

Jackson craned his neck around. “Someone check on—”

“He's breathing,” Tansy called from across the room. “EMT's are on their way.”

“Oh my God,” Mira kept saying over and over as she held tightly onto him. She buried her face into his chest, her shoulders heaving with sobs, but then she quickly backed off, startled, as if she'd just heard something. She wore a strange expression. “What about Chuck?” she asked.

“He's gone,” said Jackson, not even having to look. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

A haunted expression remained on her face. She looked sickly white.

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“Langhorne...”

“We're on it.”

“Where is he?”

“Not here.”

And then Mira started looking around for something, patting the ground around her. “His laptop. Get the laptop. For evidence.” She was starting to sound frantic. “What about the deal? We've gotta—”

Jackson grabbed on to her, quieting her down and halting her search. He could feel Mira's heart racing against his, her chest heaving as she started crying again. “Mira, trust me,” he said, holding her tightly. “It's over.”