Involuntary Control (Gray Spear Society) (36 page)

"When is the next pick-up?" Aaron said.

"Tomorrow morning at nine," Ford gasped.

"Good. That gives us time to prepare. We'll take one of your trucks and do the job for you."

Ford shook his head. "No. Whatever you're planning, I don't want my truck to be part of it. That special customer is not somebody you fuck with. If there's any trouble, his goons will come looking for me."

"Then claim the truck was stolen. File a police report."

Ford stared into the briefcase.

"I'm trying to be nice," Aaron said, "but I don't have to be. If you don't cooperate, the truck
will
be stolen and you'll be dead. The money or the gun, Mr. Ford?

"The money." Ford's shoulders sagged.

Aaron smiled. "Let's go pick out a truck." He closed the briefcase but left it on the desk.

Everybody stood up.

"Will I get it back?" Ford said.

"I hope so." Aaron shrugged. "That's certainly the plan. If not, you have insurance, right?"

* * *

Bethany felt dirty. She had forgotten to take a shower today, but that wasn't why. The cause was a man named General Nolan Xerxes Doolittle. She and Leanna had spent the last few hours piecing together his life story. It was like swimming through a river of raw sewage. There were many kinds of criminals and sociopaths in the world, but Doolittle was in a class by himself.

"Should we call Aaron now?" Bethany said.

"Yes," Leanna said, "we have enough information."

The twins were at their workstations. Bethany looked at the clock on her computer, and she realized she hadn't moved in ten hours. She needed to pee, but it could wait until after the call.

She dialed Aaron by typing on her keyboard. Her headset was tied into the computer, and her computer was tied into the Gray Spear Society shadow network. From this spot she could directly connect to any phone in the world. She could even call the Oval Office if she wanted.

Aaron answered. "Yes?"

Bethany liked how his deep voice always seemed to resonate with authority, even when he spoke just one word. She was coming to admire him in a way she had never felt about anybody else. He still scared her, but now she understood that was just part of his job. He was actually a very kind man and a good friend to her.

"It's Bethany, sir. We know who is running project 708."

"Who?"

"General Nolan Doolittle," she said. "He joined the Marine Corps in 1968 and was immediately shipped to Vietnam. That's where he met General Clark."

"Go on."

"He quickly demonstrated a talent for operating deep behind enemy lines. He liked to wander for days in territory controlled by the North Vietnamese Army, often by himself. He became an expert at assassination, demolition, and terrorism. He even killed women and children. By the time the war ended, he was a captain."

"A dangerous man," Aaron said.

"He had a very long military career, sir. How much detail do you want?"

"Just summarize. We're entering the secret base at nine AM tomorrow, and the preparations are taking longer than expected. We may not get much sleep tonight."

"Is Norbert going with you?" Bethany asked timidly.

"Don't get distracted. Tell me about Doolittle."

"He specialized in unconventional warfare. He led teams on secret missions all over the world. In later years he commanded a brigade known as the Doolittle Hitters. You won't find their names in any official document. They operated outside the normal chain of command. They were mercenaries, really. They did jobs for any U.S. government agency willing to pay their fee. Most often it was the CIA."

"What about other governments?"

"Never, sir. Doolittle seems to be a patriot. He did some work for American corporations too. Industrial espionage and sabotage of foreign competition. He disrupted supply chains in other countries, which led to a famine in one case."

"Sounds like a zealot," Aaron said.

"He's a very bad man," Bethany said. "Thousands of people died because of him."

"That's not entirely relevant. I've killed lots of people, and Marina has killed more than me. We're in a very bloody business. Quickly, what else can you tell me about Doolittle?"

"A year and a half ago, he suddenly quit the military and went to work for White Flame Technology as a consultant. That's where the paper trail ends."

"Send the information about Doolittle as a text message to my phone. I'll review it if I have time. Have you eaten dinner?" he said.

"No, sir."

He sighed. "I'm ordering both of you to eat right now. You've done enough, and it's getting late. I already asked Nancy to let you stay at her place tonight. Make sure you get plenty of sleep and eat a big breakfast. Tomorrow could be a long day. When we enter the base in the morning, you're going to support us. That means I want you sitting at your computers, alert, and ready to work well before nine AM. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Bethany and Leanna replied in unison.

"Good night." The connection ended.

* * *

Marina grinned.
I should've been a truck driver,
she thought.
This is great!

She was driving a garbage truck. The giant steel beast handled like a sled, but that was part of the fun. It made the narrow country roads a real challenge. The vibration from the big diesel engine jiggled her breasts. The extra large steering wheel was like the wheel of a ship. The top of the stick shift had been replaced with an eight ball. The air-conditioning system blasted frigid air at her face and kept her from smelling the garbage.

She turned a corner, and the secret military compound came into view.
Showtime,
she thought. She spat out the window just to get into the right mood.

She stopped the truck at the front gate, and it skidded a little on the dirt. A guard wearing camouflage and body armor came over. Marina remained outwardly calm.

"You're not the usual guy," the guard said.

"He had the runs," Marina replied in a hillbilly accent.

"Are you in possession of any unauthorized devices, such as phones, pagers, radios, computers, cameras, or anything else capable of recording or transmitting information? You will be searched."

"No."

Her phone was turned off and locked in a secret compartment under her seat. There was enough steel and lead shielding to defeat any kind of scanner.

"Give me your identification," the guard said.

Marina pulled out her wallet and handed it over. She wasn't worried. The identification was fake, but the twins had made sure it would pass any check. Her appreciation for their extraordinary talents was growing every day.

The guard took the wallet to a small guard post. Meanwhile, other guards passed wands over the garbage truck. Marina didn't recognize the devices, but clearly, they were sophisticated scanners. This part did worry her. Her passengers were hiding underneath the truck. Thick steel plate, copper mesh, and lead foil surrounded them, so theoretically, her friends were undetectable.

Theoretically.

The guards with the wands turned their attention to Marina. She had to get out so they could pat her down. They did so with much more enthusiasm than necessary, and she had to tolerate the gratuitous fondling silently. Then they made her stand inside a glass booth for a full body scan. In the meantime, the guards swept the interior of the truck's cab. Finally, Marina was allowed to return to her seat. She sighed with relief.

The first guard returned with her wallet. "You're cleared for entry." He walked around the truck, climbed into the cab, and sat on the passenger side. He held his huge rifle between his knees. "Drive."

Marina popped the truck into gear and proceeded into the compound. "You're my escort?"

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

The guard grunted.

"You look like a Bob to me," Marina said. "Mind if I call you Bob?"

"Just pick up the fucking garbage and get out of here. Jeez, this thing stinks! Do you ever clean it?"

Marina closed her mouth and stared forward.

She spotted a dumpster between two buildings. Convenient shadows and walls protected the location from view.
Perfect,
she thought. The truck had lifting arms on the front. Carefully, she maneuvered it until the arms were in slots on either side of the dumpster. She pressed a button on the console and heard a hydraulic hiss.

There was a loud bang.

"What the hell?" She got out and saw fluid spouting from a broken hydraulic line. "Shit!"

Bob walked around the cab and inspected the damage with a dour expression. "Fix it."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that? Do I look like a fucking mechanic? I have to take this giant piece of crap back to the shop. It's broken."

"What about our garbage?"

"Don't worry," Marina said in a mildly hostile tone. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. You'll get your pickup done today."

They climbed into the cab.

Marina turned the truck around and headed towards the gate. In her side mirror she saw three guards who hadn't been there before. She allowed herself a slight smile.
Good luck,
she thought wistfully.

* * *

Aaron watched the garbage truck drive away from the compound. The first and simplest part of the operation was a success. He wished Marina had been part of the insertion team, but a woman in the group would've attracted attention. Also, it was a smart idea to have a veteran teammate outside the fence as backup in case something went wrong.

He turned to Smythe and Norbert. The three of them wore the same type of camouflage and body armor as the real guards. They carried the same big rifles and side arms. As long as they kept a low profile, Aaron expected they would be able to move around the compound freely. In exactly two hours, Marina would come back to extract them.

"Turn your phones back on so the twins can track us," Aaron said.

His phone was in a sleeve under his shirt. He discretely reached up and turned it on by feeling for the buttons. Smythe and Norbert did the same.

Aaron looked around and was confronted by his first major obstacle. He had no idea where to go. There were no signs and all the buildings looked like big, concrete blocks. The obvious intention was to create difficulties for spies like him, and it was working.

Standing in place like an idiot wasn't a good option though. He picked a random direction and started walking. Smythe and Norbert flanked him.

Aaron glanced at Norbert and saw a tense expression on his face.

"Hey," Aaron said, "you're going to get us in trouble looking like that."

"Like what, sir?" Norbert said.

"Like you're about to piss yourself. This operation is all about attitude and confidence. Act like you belong here. Put a little swagger in your step."

"Yes, sir."

"And stop calling me sir," Aaron said. "I'm just another guard right now. When you're undercover, you stay in character the entire time. One tiny slip is all it will take to get us killed."

"Yes..." Norbert closed his mouth.

"Maybe we shouldn't have brought him along," Smythe said.

"He's part of the team," Aaron said.

"But he lacks experience."

"This is how you get experience. I couldn't legitimately keep him out of the game any longer."

Smythe furrowed his brow but didn't respond. Norbert appeared to settle down. His expression switched from frightened to angry, which was an improvement at least.

Aaron noticed lots of people going in and out of a particular doorway. It was as good a destination as any, so he veered in that direction.

He followed the foot traffic until he entered a large cafeteria. There was an attached kitchen, but it was still under construction and dark. A buffet was laid out on one of the tables. It consisted of sandwiches, fruit, salad, soups, and cookies. A mix of soldiers, technicians, scientists, construction workers, and men in suits were eating at the many square tables.

"Eat," Aaron said softly. "Blend in. Listen."

He, Smythe, and Norbert went to the buffet. After loading trays with food, they split up.

Aaron chose a spot near a couple of technicians who were having an animated conversation. He didn't have to strain to overhear them.

"There is no fucking way we can install the V-45 array in two weeks," the first technician said. "That project was supposed to take two months. The calibration alone takes a week. Are they crazy?"

"Tell them that," the second technician said. "See what happens."

"Why is everything suddenly a damned crisis? They can't just pull new schedules out of their ass whenever they feel like it. Ever since the boss showed up..."

"Yeah. He must think we don't need to sleep. And his thugs are everywhere."