Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) (33 page)

“Shit… that explains why the D.E.A.D. unit was sent to take me out. They said I stole government property when I took Hussein’s laptop back in New York. If Hussein was listed as an asset, then technically I guess I did.”

“Exactly. They covered their tracks pretty well.”

“But even if Hussein was working for the CIA, why would he be discussing a top secret government satellite with the director?” asks Wallis.

Schultz shrugs. “My guess? They’ll say he was gathering intelligence on terrorist activity, and they were using the satellite to verify it. Forget what Cerberus could do,
that’s
what it was initially designed for.”

“That’s pretty weak,” I say.

“I know it is, but it’s still plausible. And I just thought of that on the spot. The most powerful and secretive intelligence agency in the world has had months to think of a believable reason.”

“Jesus Christ…”

I turn away and pace slowly toward the door, but the images on the TV catch my eye.

“Hey, turn this up,” I say over my shoulder.

On screen is a live press conference from outside the White House. President Cunningham is standing at a podium on the front lawn, with General Thomas Matthews at his side.

The indicator appears on the screen as the volume rises, and we hear the president’s speech.

“…our thoughts and prayers are with the families of the victims, and the survivors, in the nations that were subjected to these truly horrific attacks by the terrorist organization known as the Armageddon Initiative.”

Along the bottom of the screen is a ticker, scrolling right to left, showing the number of deaths in all the countries fired upon. Over nine hundred thousand dead in China… three quarters of a million dead in Turkey… two hundred thousand dead in Pakistan… another half million in South Korea…

My God!

“These unforgiveable attacks took us all by surprise,” the president continues. “I will concede that our technology was manipulated in a way we didn’t know was possible, and I have taken action to have Project: Cerberus decommissioned with immediate effect. It was designed to help protect the citizens of our great nation, and indeed across all nations, but instead it was used to hurt them. From this day forth, the United States will set aside all foreign policies and treaties. We will wipe all existing debts. We will help those who need it most; no matter how long it takes, no matter how much it costs. We… will… make… this… right!”

He pauses as a thunderous round of applause and cheering breaks out.

“This is bullshit,” I say to the room.

On screen, President Cunningham holds up his hands so the audience will calm down.

“Now, even in these darkest of times, there is light. I can reveal that thanks to the efforts of our intelligence community, and the brave men and women serving our country, we have captured the men responsible for these attacks. Many of the terrorists involved were killed during the operation, but I can now confirm to you that we have the leader of the organization, Hamaad El-Zurak, in custody at a secure location where he’s undergoing interrogation…”

“Bullshit!” I yell. “I shot the bastard myself!”

“…I would like to personally thank the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, General Thomas Jack Matthews, for working to bring this evil individual to justice.”

President Cunningham turns and shakes Matthews’ hand, and then waves to the crowd.

Unbelievable.

He’s managed to turn the biggest terrorist attack in history into a goddamn publicity stunt… and the people are loving it! He just admitted it was American technology that caused all this, and they’re fucking applauding him!

Jesus fucking Christ.

I turn to face everyone. “Schultz, have you heard from Josh and Tori?” I ask.

“They’re safe,” he replies. “They slipped away in the chaos back in Atlanta.”

“Good. So, what’s your plan?”

“I need to make a call—try to get everyone released.”

I shake my head. “There’s no way the CIA are going to let us go when we know so much.”

He reaches into his pockets, pulls out a USB flash drive, and waves it at me.

“But they don’t know we can actually
prove
anything,” he says with a wicked smile. “Let me do some negotiating. With Freeman’s help, I’m sure we can make them see it’s best if we keep quiet and all this disappears… the world’s got enough to worry about, right?”

Schultz walks out of the room, followed by Freeman. Wallis and Raynor both sit down on the sofa in the corner, but I remain standing, staring at the TV screen. The scope of this whole thing is beyond comprehension. Millions of people have died. The last twenty-four hours ranks up there with the first two World Wars and Smallpox.

I pace back and forth, unaware of the time. It doesn’t seem long before Schultz and Freeman re-enter the room. They look flustered.

“Okay, we’re going,” says Schultz, urgently.

I frown at his tone. “With or without permission?” I ask.

“With… sort of. Come on, we don’t have much time. There’s a chopper waiting for us out front.”

He turns and practically runs out of the office, with Freeman close behind him. The three of us exchange looks of confusion before filing out after him. We walk down the corridor, ignoring the seemingly accusatory glances of the people we pass, and step out into the open.

Sure enough, there’s a chopper on the front lawn, which Schultz is just climbing aboard. Freeman is on the ground signaling us over. We all break into a jog and duck as we approach. The noise of the spinning rotor blades is deafening. We climb into the back, and we lift off before I even have chance to sit down.

“Where are we going?” I shout to Schultz.

“The safest place I know,” he replies, cryptically.

40.

18:03 PDT

The safest place he knew turned out to be GlobaTech’s main headquarters in Santa Clarita, California. The chopper took us to Atlanta International Airport, where a private jet was waiting for us on the runway, fueled, and ready to go. Vowing to myself that it was definitely the last time I ever traveled on one, we climbed aboard and were soon in the air.

The flight took a little over eight hours, during which I tried to get some sleep, but failed miserably. We touched down at Whiteman Airport in Pacoima, and made the half hour drive from there to the GlobaTech building in a chauffeured limousine that was waiting for us.

The site is at the base of a small mountain range, and is enormous. All the years I’ve had a relationship with them, I never knew just how big of a company they are. We drive in through the main gate, and across what feels like a small town surrounded by a fence. Three- and four-story buildings are scattered around the site with seemingly no prior planning. Operatives parade around the grounds, kitted out, armed, and heading in various directions to do God knows what. There are helicopters, and even fighter jets, standing stationary, all bearing GlobaTech’s red and black emblem.

We make our way over to one of the largest buildings around, which I take as their main office, and stop out front. We all pile out of the car and, as I stand and stretch, I see Tori and Josh waiting for us. My girl runs over, jumping up, and wrapping herself around me. I kiss her with as much passion as I can, and guide her to the ground. Josh follows behind her, holding a laptop. We shake hands, and the group exchange pleasantries all around before heading inside to Schultz’s office, where we sit around a large conference table, and proceed to catch everyone up with what we know, right up to the point where we left Fort Benning.

“So the CIA agreed to let you all go?” asks Josh. “Just like that?”

Schultz squirms awkwardly in his seat at the question, and doesn’t immediately answer.

“Yeah, Ryan…” I say. “What was the story with us getting out of there?”

He hesitates another moment, his gaze rapidly flitting around the room, seeing everyone staring back at him.

“I spoke to a guy at the CIA,” he says. “I was given him as a contact when I was going back and forth with the goddamn NSA. I said that, under the circumstances, they can’t justify holding GlobaTech responsible for anything now that they’ve announced to the world El-Zurak has been captured. The guy didn’t exactly admit what they’ve done, but he said they still need to be seen to be bringing the people responsible to justice.”

“Sorry if I’m missing something,” says Raynor. “But I thought they’d done that already?”

“They still have a whole lot of paperwork that we know they can’t own up to, that says the people in this room played a large part in it all. They have to justify their intel should there be an investigation.”

My spider sense starts tingling. I look around the room at everyone. Schultz is sitting at the far end, looking flustered and out of breath. On his left, Tori looks tired, like she’s spent a long time crying. She must be running on fumes right now, the poor thing. Next to her, Josh is sitting upright, tense, and alert, listening to Schultz, and by the look on his face, the cogs are turning inside his head—always thinking. His laptop is on the table in front of him with the lid closed.

Wallis is next to him, and Freeman is at the opposite end to Schultz, both looking positively disinterested, which I can understand, from their point of view—Wallis is back in the FBI’s good books, so there’s no pressure on him anymore. They’ll just be anxious to get back to work and put it all behind them. Opposite Tori, on my left, is Raynor, who still looks like he’s trying to wrap his head around everything. He’s a smart man, but he’s old school. He likes to take his time with things, and I think this is taking a bit longer than normal to process, which again, is understandable.

Then there’s me. No official ties to the real world, apart from a bar in desperate need of renovating in a backwater town in Texas. No affiliation with any government agency… out of everyone in this room, I’m the one with the least to lose.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid…

“I got them to agree that no one associated with GlobaTech in any capacity will be held accountable for anything that’s happened,” continues Schultz. “They’re dropping any charges against this company, and releasing all of the assets they seized back to us. We’re business as usual, effective immediately.”

“What about me?” asks Tori, speaking for the first time since we all sat down. “I don’t work for you.”

“Sweetheart, you were the victim of a kidnapping by a known terrorist—you’re fine.”

“And me?” asks Raynor.

“You were a consultant, acting in an advisory capacity because of your knowledge and experience in dealing with the terrorists,” says Schultz. “You’re fine too.”

The room goes silent, and Schultz shifts uneasily in his chair. Josh leans forward, pushing his laptop further out in front of him and resting his elbows on the table.

“And what about Adrian?” he asks.

Everyone looks at me, and I look up at Schultz. I already know the answer to this question…

“Tell them, Ryan,” I say. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I brought it on myself.”

“Tell us what?” asks Tori, her voice quivering slightly with emotion as she turns to Schultz.

He sits up in his chair and fidgets with his hands in front of him, searching for the words.

“They… ah… they said—”

“They said that because I killed over twenty NSA agents, and a couple of CIA guys to boot, I get to be guilty of pretty much whatever they want,” I say, interrupting him. “Am I right?”

Schultz sighs heavily. I get up and walk around the table, taking a deep breath as I head over to stand next to him.

“Adrian…” says Tori as she stands and walks over to me. “Can’t you just go to the authorities? Explain what happened? You have proof that things weren’t what they thought… they’ll believe you.”

I can hear the desperation in her voice, and it makes my heart hurt knowing she cares so much for me.

I look at Schultz. “Give me the flash drive with the evidence on it,” I say to him.

Reluctantly, he hands it over. It’s small, maybe three inches long and an inch wide. It’s like a fat pen—gray plastic with a cap that you unclip to reveal the USB connector. I regard it for a moment in my hand before pocketing it.

“I can’t turn myself in, baby,” I say to Tori, showing her the flash drive. “This evidence proves the CIA masterminded a terrorist attack on American soil. It’d bring the whole country to its knees in minutes. Realistically, this information can’t ever come out. But the threat of it coming out is enough to give me some space, should the CIA get too close to me. But they’re going to make me public enemy number one, and the only thing I can do about that is run. I’m gonna have a lot of people looking for me for a long time... This evidence is my protection.”

I put my hand on her head and hold her close to me.

I look at Josh, hoping he has something insightful to say that will make everything alright. Just as he’s about to say something, his laptop starts beeping, and everyone turns to him. He frowns and opens it up, examining the screen.

“That can’t be right…” he mutters after a moment.

“What is it?” I ask.

“You saw Cunningham’s press conference, right? After he said Cerberus had been decommissioned, I ran a program to try to hack the mainframe. I figured all the security would be down, and it’d be easy to walk right in. It was a shot in the dark, but I was seeing if there was any information from the attacks stored on there that we could use to help further prove what really happened.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” I say. “Did you find anything?”

“Well, no… that’s the strange thing—the program didn’t work because all the security is still in place.” He looks up but silence greets him. “Which means Cerberus isn’t deactivated,” he explains.

Freeman stands and walks behind him. “But the president himself said it was,” he says. “That makes no sense.”

“Exactly,” agrees Josh. “Why would he lie? Just give me a minute here.” He falls silent, as he rapidly taps away on the keyboard, and we all exchange confused glances. “The servers are fully functional, which means so is the satellite,” he says. “Which means someone has to be in control. I’m trying to trace where the servers are being accessed from now.”

“Surely it’ll be from ComForce?” asks Raynor. “That’s where it’s all based, right?”

“It is, but that building’s on lockdown, and still likely surrounded by the media. No way could a team big enough and smart enough to operate a satellite get in without anyone asking any questions.”

“So it’s being accessed remotely?” I ask.

“Yup,” he says as his laptop beeps again. “And it’s being accessed from…”

He’s silent for a moment, transfixed on the screen with his jaw slackened in clear surprise.

“Josh…?” I ask.

He looks up, with a bewildered expression on his face. “It’s being accessed from the White House.”

A palpable silence falls in the room. My mind is screaming at a million miles an hour in every direction—a thousand snippets of information come flooding to the forefront of my brain all at once. I pace up and down the room, trying to make some sense of the chaos inside my head.

Someone in the White House is using Cerberus right now...

The president lied about scrapping the satellite...

“This doesn’t make any sense,” says Wallis.

I hold up my hand straight away. “Quiet, I’m thinking…”

I feel everyone’s eyes look at me. I’m standing near the door, and I turn to face the room. I meet Josh’s gaze, seeing his cogs working like mine.

The president lied…

He also said they’d captured El-Zurak, which was bullshit. I assumed Matthews had told him that, as part of his master plan, but what if he didn’t?

What if President Cunningham
knew
El-Zurak was already dead? He certainly put a very good spin on it for the media. I know the guy’s good, but was that speech a little too rehearsed? Or am I reading too much into it?

Matthews’ plan was extravagant to say the least. Could he have done it alone? It’s possible, I guess. But it would’ve been a lot easier with approval…

My paranoia is giving way to reason, and the more I think about things, the more it makes sense.

“This was a set-up,” I say. “From day one.”

“We know,” says Wallis. “Matthew’s admitted it to us,
and
you have the evidence.”

“I know, but Matthews lied about one thing.”

Josh slams his fist on the desk, startling everyone. “Cunningham…” he says slowly.

“The president?” asks Raynor. “Are you saying he knows about what the CIA did?”

“I think he’s more than just aware of it,” I say. “I think he’s behind it. All of it. I think Matthews was a pawn.”

Freeman stands and walks over the window opposite, staring out momentarily at the expanse of GlobaTech’s empire before turning to face me.

“Adrian, that’s a pretty big claim,” he says. “And you have no evidence. I know you’re facing a lifetime on the run from the CIA, but don’t you think you’re clutching at straws here?”

I shake my head. “Look at the facts, and the logic,” I say. “Cerberus was commissioned by Cunningham to be built by NASA and GlobaTech, right? We already know features were added to it afterward, giving it the capability to steal other country’s nuclear weapons… who would have authorized that? Since he was elected, Cunningham’s made these amazing changes, and given the U.S. an unrivalled time of prosperity. But how did he do that? I remember reading up on it days ago. It was unprecedented having such a massive reshuffle in the White House—he appointed his own directors in the CIA, FBI, NSA… he appointed new people in every position in the National Security Council—including the Secretary of Defense.” I cast a mostly-sympathetic look over to Schultz, who’s listening intently to what I’m saying.

“Once he’d done that, he then legalized cocaine and prostitution. No president in history has even dared to
think
about doing something like that, yet he suggested it, and it was almost unanimously approved… as soon as he did that, it took a couple of months to pretty much stop all crime. No more drug cartels, because we’re suddenly selling coke over the counter at the local Seven-Eleven. Then, I come along and stumble across a cartel running guns for the CIA. Matthews himself admitted it was perfect using them, because no one would ever look for one if they suspected anything, as they’re not meant to exist anymore.”

“Cunningham’s behind everything, isn’t he?” asks Josh, somewhat rhetorically.

I shrug. “I think so,” I say. “I think this is a very clever and very elaborate plan, made and implemented by nothing more than a glorified dictator.”

“But there’s still no hard evidence,” Freeman persists. “Without proof, we have nothing more than the CIA’s admission of guilt.”

“Stop thinking like a federal agent, Freeman. The fact there’s no evidence is actually proof. The president’s
too
clean. There’s no way the Director of the CIA could organize all this on his own without the President of the United States either finding out or approving it. Wallis, you heard Matthew’s speech back in Atlanta… Either he’d been at the Cunningham Kool-Aid, or he was quoting someone else’s vision. I think the president’s behind all of this.”