Game Changer (41 page)

Davinroy nodded. “Get a plan together and tell me when
such an attack can be launched. If events play out the way you believe they
will, we’ll do exactly as you say. But I’m confident San Francisco is going to
be just fine.”

Loro had won this argument, but his face was still a
seething mask of rage and resentment. He had won the right to shut the barn
door, but only after the horse had already bolted. Or in this case had been
incinerated. Not nearly good enough.

“You have no idea how much I pray that you’re right,
Mr. President,” he said bitterly. “But I feel certain that you aren’t.”

68

Rachel Howard and Kevin Quinn
were brought to a cabin deep in the woods somewhere in the vicinity of
Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Night had fallen and clouds blotted out the moon and
stars, leaving the area not in proximity to the cabin as dark as a cave.

They were forced inside and tied
with plastic strips to chairs bolted into the floor of the main room. Quinn
tested his bonds, which held as he expected. He and Rachel had been affixed to
their chairs by experts, and there would be no escape.

He took a practiced survey of
his surroundings. The room was barren and had no books or knickknacks or plants
to suggest it was someone’s home, vacation or otherwise. It had a couch, a few
chairs, a table, and a monitor, but that was all.

A polished stainless steel
container sat alone on the table, about the size of a paperback book, but there
were no knives or other weapons in sight, and nothing Quinn could see that
could be used as a weapon. A key fob hung from a small hook set into the wall
next to the front door. The fob was a black oval emblem with the words
Land Rover
spelled out in silver
lettering, matching these words spelled out on one of the two vehicles parked
outside.

Quinn’s survey was interrupted as his
captors ripped the duct tape from his mouth, and then from Rachel’s, and
proceeded out of the cabin, most likely to man a security perimeter.

“Where do all these guys come
from?” said Rachel when they were alone. “Mercenaries-R-Us
?”

Quinn couldn’t help but smile, despite their grim
circumstances. “Pretty much,” he replied.

 
How could he
not be impressed with this woman? She had been ripped forcibly from her former
life but she never complained, and she was able to maintain her sense of humor in
the teeth of danger and adversity.
 

“The legitimate warriors for hire work in organizations
called Private Military Corporations,” he explained, “which are paid to conduct
much of the actual fighting around the world. But any number of the ex-soldiers
employed at these PMCs are only too happy to work for scumbags for the right
price. Like strippers earning extra money by turning tricks.”

Dmitri Kovonov entered the room just as Quinn
finished, clutching a goblet of red wine in his left hand.
He walked
over to Rachel, beaming. “Professor Howard,” he said in delight, “what an
honor. Welcome to my little hideaway.”

Kovonov slowly turned to Quinn,
shook his head in disgust, and then turned back to Rachel. “But you really do
need to hang out with a better class of people,” he added, setting the goblet
of wine down on the table nearby.

He closed the few yards that
separated him from Quinn and drove his fist into his helpless prisoner’s
stomach. Quinn doubled over. When he lifted his head once again, Kovonov hit
him with a right cross to the face, his ring tearing a gash in Quinn’s cheek that
quickly began to leak bright red blood.

“Never interfere with the
extermination of a monster!” hissed Kovonov, still incensed over Quinn’s role
in saving the Syrian president years earlier.

Quinn glared back, his stomach
and face still stinging from the blows they had taken. “You can bet I won’t
interfere with
your
extermination,” he
said defiantly.

Kovonov laughed. “Please don’t
tell me you think the cavalry is outside, Agent Quinn. Major McLeod and his hemorrhoid
team? You
have
noticed we’re in the
woods, not at a farmhouse, right?”

Quinn’s heart pumped madly
against his chest. “Where are they?” he demanded.

“You thought they had the drop
on me, didn’t you? Here’s the thing. None of this was your plan in the first
place. It was mine.”

“What are you talking about?”
said Quinn.

Kovonov ignored the question,
turning to Rachel Howard instead. “I bought that Agent Quinn had been killed in
an auto accident, of course. But I really thought you were dead, too. Avi
Wortzman outdid himself. He made it clear you were alive, but in such a way as
to arouse my suspicions. When I dug further and found evidence he had planted
that you were actually dead, he knew I’d buy it, congratulating myself for my
thoroughness. I had no idea there was yet another layer of deceit, and that you
were alive after all.”

Kovonov studied her expression
for several seconds. “Not even you knew about this, did you?” He shook his
head. “But of course you didn’t. Because you chose not to work with Wortzman.
Instead, you decided to freelance on Plum Island.”

He lifted the goblet of wine
from the table and drank from it once more. “Which brings me to how I learned
you were alive. And how I was able to capture you so easily. As much as I hate
to admit it, turns out I got a lucky break. Of course, no one else could have
taken advantage of it nearly as well as I have.”

“Are you going to congratulate
yourself all night,” said Rachel, “or are you going to actually tell us how you
found us?”

“I wouldn’t miss telling you for
the world. Turns out my lucky break came from the good Dr. Acosta. While I was visiting
her to crush her soul and further program her brain, she happened to mention
she had sent away for a genome analysis. Seemed funny to me, because she could
do this herself, and she didn’t seem the type. GeneScreen Associates,” he added
with a smirk. “Ever heard of them?”

Quinn noted approvingly that Rachel
didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, answering his taunt with
nothing but a look of contempt.

Kovonov continued. “Imagine my
surprise when my associate, Yosef Mizrahi—the recently deceased Yosef Mizrahi I
might add, since I finally don’t need him anymore—later confessed that
he
had sent his DNA out for analysis
also. To an outfit called GeneScreen Associates. I was driving when he told me
about it. Almost drove off the road I was so stunned.”

He shook his head. “First
Carmilla and now Yosef? This GeneScreen outfit must have a very persuasive
advertising program, don’t you think? I got a kick out of how upset Yosef was
by it all. He remembered getting a call that the results were ready to review,
and he remembered having sent away for them, but admitted it was a severe lapse
in judgment he couldn’t explain. He assured me he wouldn’t call back. He
apologized profusely for his carelessness, saying he had no idea what had come
over him.”

Kovonov raised his eyebrows.
“But
I
had an idea what had come over
him,” he said. “I knew exactly what it was.”

He nodded at Rachel, a look of
admiration on his face. “Someone had found a way to use my nanites for their
own ends. Even more remarkable, this someone had found a way to do this
remotely, over vast distances. Must have used a cell tower. This was just so ingenious.
There is only one person in the world who could have pulled it off. Not the
using the cell tower part, the knowing what to broadcast part. Only you,
Professor Howard. I already knew you were brilliant, but you really outdid
yourself this time.”

He paused to take another sip of
wine. “But even if you were alive, you couldn’t have done this if Agent Quinn
wasn’t alive also. So the reports of
both
of your deaths must have been greatly exaggerated.”

Quinn couldn’t believe it. What
were the chances that both Carmilla and Yosef Mizrahi would mention GeneScreen Associates
in Kovonov’s
 
presence? Once again he
thought of Adolf Hitler surviving so many assassination attempts due to blind
luck. It seemed a cruel irony that people as despicable as Kovonov would catch
this kind of break.

“And once you figured out we
were still alive,” said Quinn, “you found a way to set a trap.”

“Very good,” said Kovonov.
“Maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought.”

He turned back to Rachel. “My
sources were certain you weren’t in Israel, so I knew where you’d have to be to
make the progress you’ve made. Plum Island. I didn’t even need a fly drone to
spy on activities there. The Mossad hacked security on the island years ago,
allowing us to get the feeds from your own surveillance cameras.”

“Why?” said Quinn.

“Maybe you
are
as stupid as I thought,” said Kovonov. “Because Plum Island is
the center of America’s secret neuroscience research program. Of course we were
keeping tabs on US efforts. How could we not? When the American government was engaged
in its Manhattan Project, you’d better believe you were paying close attention
to Nazi efforts to build a nuclear bomb. Why would we do anything less? We
needed to see what the competition was up to.”

“In case you got tired of
stealing
my
work,” said Rachel.

Kovonov smiled icily. “You had
the theory, but I did the implementation. And this was the more difficult
achievement. But I do give you some of the credit for my breakthroughs.”

He drank the last of the wine and
set the goblet down on the table next to him. “But back to Plum Island,” he said.
“I took a long look at their security feeds. The Island is covered in video and
audio, with the exception of the inside of living quarters. Which I’m thankful
for,” he added, making a face. “I’ve put you on a bit of a pedestal, Professor
Howard. Seeing you go at Quinn like a porn star would really tarnish the image
I have of you.”

“If you had no eyes in my
apartment, what makes you think we had sex?”

“Give me
some
credit for knowing how to read body language,” he said,
shaking his head in disappointment at her behavior.

He paused to gather his thoughts. “So
after confirming where you were and getting the lay of the land, I had Yosef
call the GeneScreen number and allow himself to be found. Your men took the
bait right away as expected. While
they
were following Yosef, all five of my mercenaries were following
them
.”

“What have you done with them?” snapped
Rachel.

“You know the answer, you’re
just afraid to admit it to yourself. They’re dead. All of them. I did spare one
in the first batch temporarily, a Lieutenant Bowen, so I could erase his recent
memories and implant those of my own choosing. Memories of a routine surveillance
of a farmhouse. Memories of orders from Major McLeod to contact Plum Island to bring
the rest of the gang along for the slaughter.”

Quinn wanted to scream, wanted
to spew molten hatred from his eyes strong enough to melt Kovonov where he
stood, but he forced himself to remain calm. Giving in to his rage wouldn’t
help him, or Rachel.

“As part of the orders Bowen
remembered
receiving from McLeod, he
also made sure that before your hemorrhoid guys flew off, they put out the
welcome mat for my team, so we could waltz onto the island and remove you.”
Kovonov grinned, quite pleased with himself. “And, finally, I had two of my men
lying in wait at the landing coordinates he provided to his comrades, about
fifty miles from here. The last members of your security team were gunned down while
you were on your way here, I’m afraid.”
 
 

As sick as Quinn was about these
revelations, there was no denying the effectiveness of Kovonov’s strategy. In
one fell swoop he had effortlessly managed to kill off the entire Prep H team,
have his own team invited to the island, and get Quinn to lower his guard to
such an extent that he was, literally, caught with his pants down.

“Not bad, right?” said Kovonov.
“The file on you, Agent Quinn, says your instincts for avoiding a trap are
legendary. But apparently not as good as my instincts are for
setting
one,” he added with a superior
smirk. “My men told me there was a champagne bottle on the table when they
entered. Let me guess. You were celebrating that you had found me and that I
was a sitting duck?”

He shook his head in mock regret.
“Sorry to have ruined your party, but your celebration may have been a bit
premature.”

Quinn saw that Rachel was
fighting to keep a cool head as well. Instead of cursing him for butchering good
men she had come to care for, she took the opposite approach. “You know you
haven’t been yourself,” she said, her tone displaying nothing but concern.
“Your colleagues told us you were a good man. Before the change brought about
by Matrix Learning. You can fight this. Remember who you were.”

Kovonov laughed. “I do remember
who I was. I
was
a good man. Now I’m
a
better
one. I like the new me. I
have no interest in going back to the sniveling existence I had before, when I
was incapable of being bold. But no danger of that. You’re the only person
alive who has a chance of reversing what happened. And you won’t be allowed to
. . . proceed.”

“Allowed to proceed or allowed
to live?” asked Rachel.

“I’m not sure yet. With proper
programming even you should be controllable. And what an addition you’d make to
my brain trust.” Kovonov winked. “And you aren’t half bad looking, either. Holing
up here is sure to get lonely. It would be nice to have some female
companionship, if you know what I mean.”

“Not if my life depended on it.”

“Come now, Professor Howard. We
both know that you wouldn’t have a choice. I could make you forget everything
you know about me. Replace your contempt with memories of adoration. Turn you
into a Dmitri Kovonov
addict
. Given
who you are there are risks involved, but I just might do that.” He glanced at
Quinn in disgust. “Although the idea of sloppy seconds makes this much less
appealing.”

Quinn’s jaw clenched so tightly
his teeth were in danger of breaking.

“Either way,” continued Kovonov,
“I don’t want a cure and I don’t need one. This change has freed me to do what
needs to be done without a conscience screwing up the equation.”