Dead Six (55 page)

That was one of the few mentions of Project Blue, but there was a lot more about Gordon. I learned a great deal about the man. Hunter had despised him and didn’t trust him in the least.

May 5—We’re done. I’ve not got the order yet, but I can read the writing on the wall. Project Heartbreaker is Gordon’s baby, his ticket to upper-management. He lobbied for a DEAD op in Zubara. But by last month our superiors knew we were done. Zubara has spiraled out of control and I simply don’t have the manpower to do anything about it. Too much reliance was placed on indigenous assets. The Emir is too weak. The best I can hope for is that we can kill a few more of these assholes before we pack it in. Gordon’s withdrawn. He knows his career is shot.

By May 7, Gordon Willis had received orders to wrap up Project Heartbreaker as quickly and quietly as possible and prepare to withdraw all assets from Zubara. The hit on Rafael Montalban had taken Hunter by surprise. Even his official report had plainly stated that Gordon had ordered the op over Hunter’s objection.

May 10—Gordon is up to something. Orders were hands off on anyone from the Rivals. Montalban was not on our list. Moving on someone as high up on their hierarchy as Rafael Montalban is an act of war. Gordon had to have cut a deal with somebody. This puts us all in danger. Our organization isn’t ready for that kind of fight. The bastard. He’ll hang for this.

The lack of details about Montalban’s rival group was also frustrating. It was as if Hunter had expected whoever read this to already know about them.

I sat back from my computer and pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes tightly for a moment. I realized I’d been reading for two hours and had scarcely learned a thing. What did he expect me to do with the information on this drive? Who could I give it to that would make a difference? Who would even believe me? I’d have a hard time proving that I’d been in Zubara at all, much less that there had been some kind of international conspiracy afoot there. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. I rubbed my eyes and continued to read. There was only one entry left, dated the morning of Dead Six’s betrayal.

May 11—Preparations for the evacuation have been made. I pushed for one last mission targeting General Al Sabah, hoping that maybe we could leave this country a little better off, but was denied. Gordon Willis left ahead of the rest of us. Probably hoping for a head start so he can try to explain this all away before I can file my official report. I think I know what he’s up to. Turns out Rafael Montalban’s second-in-command was his younger brother, Eduard. I’ve gathered some evidence that Eduard has been in contact with Gordon. I think the Montalbans just had a coup, only our organization will get the blame. I don’t know why Gordon did it. He either got paid off by Eduard, or worse, he’s more ambitious that I thought. Worst case scenario, he’s trying to force us into a war so we can initiate his precious Project Blue. Even Gordon can’t be that crazy.

I could figure out the rest. Instead of waiting for Hunter to burn Gordon to their mysterious organization, Gordon had turned the tables and sold us out to General Al Sabah.

Recording any of this is a direct violation of OpSec, but I have a bad feeling about tonight. This file is my insurance policy. The first DEAD unit was stood up thirty years ago. Detachment One, protecting the world from communism. I was on D1. We accomplished a lot of good, killed a lot of bad guys, saved a lot of lives, but things changed. We’ve changed. The organization has gone bad, turned rotten. I don’t recognize it anymore. Men like Gordon Willis run it now. I used to be proud of what I did, but not anymore.

The plan is to evacuate by ship. A handful of D6 have been approached and accepted permanent positions with the organization.

Gordon had tried to hire me and Tailor, and I had nearly shot him. The personnel files were still open in another window. It looked like some of us on the chalks had been approached, and it appeared several had agreed. Sarah hadn’t been approached, though; neither had Anita King. In fact, there was a note on all the support-staff files that they were
unsuitable for recruitment.
Curious, I continued with Hunter’s final entry.

The recruits and I will rendezvous with a chopper in the gulf for transport home. As for the rest, once out to sea, the evacuation ship will be destroyed, terminating the remainder of D6 deemed to be security risks.

Shocked, I stopped reading. I must have made a noise, since the man running the café gave me a disapproving look before going back to his paper.

It pains me. These boys fought and died thinking they did it for their country. I was the same way once. But most of these boys were dead before they left the States. They didn’t even know it. It was Gordon’s suggestion to our superiors when this mission started to go off the rails. Anyone who might talk about our operation was to be eliminated. The control staff especially knew too much. Gordon decreed that they were to be on that boat, no matter what. I disagreed, but he outranked me. Too dangerous, he said. Deniable and expendable, he said. Then, when command agreed with Gordon’s plan, I knew for sure that this outfit had gone straight to hell.

I’m amazed that command went along with this. I’m fighting to get the order rescinded. I volunteered to stay, to try to force their hand. Majestic used to mean something. I can’t let this stand.

Majestic?
Was
that
who I’d been working for? I’d heard the name before, but only on
From Sea to Shining Sea.
I thought they were just some ridiculous conspiracy theory. It seemed less ridiculous now that I’d ridden in a few stealthy black helicopters.

But there it was, in black and white, right in front of me. I had worked for Majestic. And not only had Gordon Willis betrayed us, but he’d apparently betrayed them as well. More importantly, he had personally and deliberately orchestrated Sarah’s death. If the Zubarans hadn’t killed her, then Majestic would have.

I sat there staring at the screen. My heart began to pound so hard I could feel it in my chest. My hands were shaking. A pit formed in my stomach. I felt something well up inside of me that I hadn’t felt since the morning my mother was murdered. My eyes narrowed slightly, and I scrolled back through the documents to confirm something I’d seen. Yes, there it was. Gordon Willis’s home address.

I stood up from the computer and shoved the thumb drive back into my pocket. I left to find Ling; I needed to talk to her. It was time for me to go home.

Ling was teaching children to fight.

I found her near the docks, working in a large structure with corrugated steel walls and a dirt floor. It had been a storage building once, but it had been turned into a training dojo. Ling was standing in front of twenty kids, boys and girls, the oldest maybe sixteen, the youngest approximately twelve, while she yelled at them in Chinese. Though I hadn’t made any noise, she turned when I entered, giving me a small nod, as if to say g
ive me a moment.

Turning back to her class, she continued shouting. There was nothing gentle about her commands. I only knew a handful of words in Chinese, but I gathered that she was not pleased with their efforts. The children were all barefoot, wearing shorts and T-shirts, and every last one of them was drenched in sweat. At Ling’s command the kids broke into pairs and immediately set about trying to murder each other. It wasn’t the sort of sparring you’d expect from children being taught martial arts. They fought each other viciously. The soft dirt floor had seemed odd at first, but as I saw a teenager go bouncing across it on her head, I could understand the logic.

“Shen?” Ling asked. “Would you continue the lesson?”

There was movement in the doorway I’d just come through. A short Asian man wearing green fatigues passed by. I had not heard him at all. He dipped his head, giving me just the briefest acknowledgment as I jumped in surprise. He took Ling’s place in front of the class as she approached.

“How long has he been following me?”

“Since your arrival,” Ling explained. “Shen is very good at what he does.” Shen caught one of the teenage boys by the wrist, mid-punch, and began to berate him for something in Chinese. He proceeded to demonstrate by putting the kid in an arm bar and then tossing him on his face until the kid desperately tapped the dirt for mercy. “We meant no offense, but you are a stranger here. Some were nervous about your presence. Your status has allowed some leeway, but I needed to placate others. My apologies. You are looking well,” she said, sounding slightly less serious. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” My health was improving, but my mood wasn’t. Shen kicked a girl’s legs out from under her. “He was in Mexico with you, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He is alive because of you. All of us from that day are.”

I shrugged. The attention made me self-conscious. “I just did what anyone would have done. It was nothing.”

Ling shook her head. “No. It is the reason you are here. Your actions in Mexico earned our gratitude. You alone risked your life against impossible odds to ensure our survival. Exodus does not take its debts lightly. You are a bit of a legend in some circles.”

That explained some of the odd looks I’d gotten while I’d been here. These Exodus people were a strange bunch. “Hey, how is . . . you know,
the girl
? The one we rescued? Is she here?”

Ling smiled at me. “She will be disappointed to learn that she’s missed your visit, assuming that she doesn’t already know. I’m afraid she’s not here. She is well.”

I had about a thousand more questions about the mysterious girl we rescued in Mexico, but the look on Ling’s face and the tone of her voice told me she wouldn’t answer any of them. My thoughts were interrupted when one of the kids screamed when a punch landed way too hard. “That’s pretty rough,” I suggested. “Aren’t they a little young for this?”

Ling thought about it for a moment. “And how much older were you when you killed the men who murdered your mother?”

How the hell had she known that?
I was sick of everyone knowing more about me than I did about them. It was none of her damn business. When I didn’t respond, Ling continued. “It takes dedication to become a member of Exodus.”

“You’re teaching little kids to kill.”

“I’m teaching them how to
survive
. They are all volunteers. These
children
have seen horrors that even you cannot imagine. Yes, we teach them to fight, to kill, and when they’re older, someone like me will lead them into battle. Several of these children have already seen war. Others, like that young man there, were forced to watch as their family was murdered by the agents of a genocidal tyrant. That girl was abducted from her home and sold into slavery. They were all forgotten by the world and survived their ordeals only by the grace of God. We teach them the skills they need to not only survive, but
prevail
. They will go from being helpless to being able to help others.”

This was very personal for her; I could hear it in her voice. “You went through something similar yourself once, didn’t you?”

The look she gave me was cold. “I’m assuming you did not come here to judge my organization or my beliefs. So, what is it that I can do for you, Mr. Valentine?”

“I need transport back to the States.”

Ling studied me with her dark eyes as she thought about my request. “There is nothing for you there now.”

I answered without hesitation. “There’s one thing.”

“Of course.” Ling thought about it for a moment. “Walk with me, Michael.”

There was a rocky path down the shore. Ling led the way. Walking was still difficult, and after a few minutes of exercise, I’d developed a terrible headache. Ling sat on a big chunk of volcanic rock and gestured at a spot for me to sit. “I apologize. I just wanted someplace private to talk. It is easy to forget you recently underwent surgery.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, carefully making my way across the rocks before sitting down. The sun was climbing into a brilliantly blue sky over the jungle behind us as incoming waves gently rolled in. It was quite a view.

Ling was quiet for a few moments. She brushed a loose strand of her long, black hair out of her face as she looked out over the ocean. I couldn’t guess what she was thinking; I’m pretty perceptive, I think, but this woman was impossible to read. Before I could say anything, though, she asked me a question. “What changed?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ve been with us for quite a while now, and seemed content enough with our hospitality. Until this morning, that is, when you suddenly decided you need to return to the United States. I don’t need to tell you how risky that could be for you. Your former employers are not people to be trifled with. Right now they most likely think you’re dead. Is it not better to go on letting them think that, rather than to risk being tracked down?”

Ling knew more about Project Heartbreaker than she let on. Once again, the Exodus operative seemed to know a lot more about what was going on than I did, and I was getting sick of it. I’d had enough of being the last one to know everything.

“Look,” I said, trying to be firm without being rude. “I don’t really want to get into it. Nothing personal. I just thought about it last night, and I think it’s time for me to go home. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “I see.” She sounded dubious. “I take it you learned something new while using the computer this morning?”

I took a deep breath before I said anything. I hated being spied on, but there was nothing to be gained by getting angry with Ling. I needed her help. “Yes, I did, but I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry to impose on you again. And please don’t think I’m not grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life, and the lives of my friends. But I really can’t stay here.”

“When I was thirteen,” Ling began casually, looking out over the ocean again, “my parents were arrested by State Security. They were Christians and tried to flee with me to the South when the war started. I was sent to a Communist Party School to be reeducated. I never saw them again.”