Shadow Ops 3: Breach Zone (22 page)

Harlequin winced internally.
Is he wrong?

‘You know Oscar Britton? Are you in touch with him?’

Skull-Face looked incredulous. ‘You kidding me? I ain’t telling you shit.’

Harlequin sighed. ‘Suit yourself. If you’d prefer the monsters, be my guest. If we lose, they win. That’s not going to be good for you, for anyone human.’

‘You’re asking me to choose monsters’ – Skull-Face leaned in close – ‘or monsters. Go on home, Army man. Go on home and make more laws. Tell the
ratas
you work for that
Los Limpiados
say they can suck our dicks.’

‘Battery Park. You tell your boss that if he changes his mind, he can find me there. Ask for . . .’

‘I know who you are, Harlequin. Go fly on home.’

Harlequin swallowed his pride and rose into the air. ‘You know where to find me if you change your mind.’

Skull-Face’s laughter chased him all the way down Canal, ringing in his mind long after he’d left him behind.

Interlude Five

Lunch

The Ponaturi have an uncommonly strong bond with a race of whalelike creatures they call Kan-Nay, whom they seem to both worship and herd. I say ‘whalelike’ loosely. I saw humpback whales breaching off the coast of Nantucket. The Kanae are at least twice as large.

– Simon Truelove
A Sojourn Among the Mattab On Sorrah

Six Years Earlier

They spent the night entwined on the couch in her office, Grace softly snoring, Harlequin listening to the rhythm of her breathing, watching her face. As the sun began to fan pale light across the floor, Harlequin’s smartphone vibrated with a text message.
BRIEFING GATANAS. NEED YOU TO COVER THE SHOP. COME IN BY 0700
.

Harlequin slowly disentangled himself from Grace’s limbs and stood. She moaned, flopped over on her side. ‘You. Breakfast. Now.’

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go to work.’

‘Tell them I said you could take the day off.’

‘I’ll pass it along.’ He bent to kiss her, tried to stand, but she pulled him back in, surprisingly strong.

So he kissed her again. And again.

By the time he finally got out of her office, he was rushing, his uniform sloppy, himself unshowered and unshaven. It was absolutely unlike him, and it felt fantastic.

Crucible was gone by the time he arrived, and the NYPD officers at the liaison office didn’t say anything as he raced to the bathroom to clean himself up as best he could. Grace dominated his thoughts, but soon the day-to-day of his work stole them away, and he willingly gave himself up to the familiar rhythm. Special drugs and secret programs were exciting, but he much preferred helping the NYPD enforce the law. There were no hidden agendas there, no secrets. You ran, you paid. It was simple work. Sheepdog’s work.

He stepped out of the liaison office in search of one of the food carts that lined the park outside the office. He spotted his favorite a few car lengths down from its regular spot. He was in luck. Instead of the usual line, there was only a single broad-shouldered man in a gray suit.

Harlequin made his way over, ignoring the stares and sudden stilling of conversations around him. After all his time on this assignment, it was so much background noise.

He moved his way around the man, trying to catch the cook’s eye, but found the cart empty. The man in the suit turned to face him, smiling. Harlequin smiled back. The man was thickly built, with buzz-cut hair and smart sunglasses. Definitely former military, with the easy confident nature that Harlequin had come to note in real operators who had gone on to civilian service. The sunglasses obscured his eyes, but Harlequin could tell he was looking directly at him. He nodded and went back to looking for the cook.

But another man stood in the cart. His suit was black, but otherwise he could have been the twin of the man beside Harlequin. ‘Lieutenant Thorsson,’ the man in the cart said. ‘I’m Tom Hicks with Entertech. Nice to meet you.’

Harlequin looked back to the man beside him, Drawing his magic and balling his fists. ‘What the hell is going on here?’

Hicks raised his hands and spread his fingers. ‘Easy, Lieutenant. We just want to talk.’

‘So you take over my favorite lunch spot? Why the hell couldn’t you just call my desk?’

Hicks smiled. ‘We figured a busy guy like you would appreciate the change of pace. This is more dramatic, don’t you think?’

‘It sure is,’ Harlequin said, then jerked his head at the thickset man beside him. ‘If you just want to talk, I’m going to need you to call off your dog and make me a sandwich.’

Hicks nodded to his companion. ‘I got it, John.’ The thickset man pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, waved it at Hicks, and walked off.

‘Well, that’s step one,’ Harlequin said. ‘Now, where’s my sandwich?’

‘Just a minute of your time, Lieutenant, promise.’

‘Okay,’ Harlequin said. ‘Clock is ticking.’

‘You know who we are . . .’ Hicks said.

‘Entertech? Of course. You’re our main contractor. You guys are all over Quantico.’

‘Most of us are retired military. I was an O-5 in the army when I got out. Logistics.’

‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’

‘You’re supposed to feel a sense of kinship and trust.’

‘Sorry. I’m too damn hungry. Maybe if you got the cook back here?’

Hicks smiled at that. ‘We’re your leading technical and manpower solutions provider. There are other Beltway bandits that build your tanks and planes, that staff your think tanks or develop your software. Magic is what we do.’

‘Wrong,’ Harlequin said. ‘Unless you’ve found a nifty new way to conceal your current, you’re not Latent. Magic is what
I
do.’

‘I . . .’ Hicks began.

Harlequin cut him off. ‘Enough. Get to the point.’

‘You’re working with the Channel Corporation on an experimental drug, some kind of Limbic Dampener.’

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ Harlequin said. ‘I’m on a SOC LE support tour.’

‘You don’t move as far in the field as we have without keeping your finger on the pulse of important business developments,’ Hicks said, spreading his hands.

‘Well, then what do you need me for? Sounds like you’re all over this.’

‘So, you are working with Channel.’

‘I’m not confirming or denying anything except that I’m hungry.’

‘Jesus.’ Hicks made a dramatic show of looking around under the counter. ‘There’s got to be something here. Mustard . . . pickles . . . some . . . red-looking sauce. I have no idea what it is, but I’m pretty sure it’s edible. If I give it to you, will you hear me out?’

‘Let me see it,’ Harlequin said.

‘Look, Grace Lyons made her fortune in finance. Why the hell is she suddenly dabbling in pharmaceuticals? Doesn’t seem odd to you?’

Harlequin swept a hand over the food cart. ‘You want to talk to me about odd?’

‘Channel has no experience with magic and, more importantly, no clue how to properly secure important developments in relation to it. You are taking a huge risk by working with them.’

‘I never said I was working with them. Where’s that red sauce?’

Hicks went on without batting an eyelash. ‘We hope you’re keeping an eye on Channel’s lab security, Lieutenant. We hope you’re reporting any violations up your chain with alacrity. We especially hope you’re keeping a careful eye on Grace Lyons. If a problem were to be discovered in that program, we could step in and help out.’

‘Really? Would you not make sandwiches for them, too? Because right now, you’re the worst fucking cook I’ve ever met.’

‘More importantly, I can’t even begin to speculate on the damage it would do to your career if a security violation were discovered that you were remiss in reporting.’

Harlequin felt his face flush with anger. ‘See, now it sounds like you’re a lousy cook who’s threatening me. That’s two strikes. One more, and I might just have to climb in there and teach you some fucking manners.’

Hicks shrugged. ‘Speaking of careers. Do you know what most SOC officers do when they retire? They come work for us, Lieutenant, usually at roughly double what they were making as a field- or flag-grade. It’s a nice way to watch the sunset.’

Harlequin snorted laughter. ‘Here’s what happens now. I go call my boss and report this insanely unethical and illegal conversation. Entertech gets investigated and brought up on charges. You get fired and go to jail. That sound about right?’

Hicks’s smile didn’t falter. ‘Nobody has done anything unethical here, Lieutenant. We rented a truck and had a conversation. Both of those actions are protected by the First Amendment. Remember? The one you swore to defend?’

‘Yeah, I remember it. So, here’s my free speech. Go fuck yourself.’

Hicks looked sad. ‘I’m sorry you see it that way. You’re young. You don’t know how things get done yet. I wish you had more time to learn before making a call like this.’

Harlequin’s blood went cold, his righteous anger abandoning him. He remembered his conversation with Crucible in the Channel meeting room just yesterday.
There are policies that exist that guide those of us above your rank and level of experience.

‘You haven’t been very reasonable,’ Hicks said, ‘but, fortunately for you, I was many years in the Army and I saw a lot of JOs full of piss and vinegar just like you. Here’s my card.’ He extended a business card between two fingers. ‘You change your mind, you give me a call.’

Harlequin took it numbly. A dozen snappy retorts rose to mind, but he couldn’t shake the sickening feeling that he was missing something.

He turned and headed back to his office, his appetite gone, sliding the card into his cargo pant pocket. He walked a few steps, stopped, turned back to the food truck. Hicks was gone, the truck shuttered and locked. He had no doubt it would open again shortly, with no indicator that anything had happened other than his memory of the conversation.

He shook his head.
Snap out of it.
It was one thing when Crucible, his supervisor and an authorized government agent, gave him lectures on policy. It was another when a contractor tried to push him around. He was not going to be intimidated.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and raised it to call Crucible, only to find it ringing in his hand. It was Grace.

Excitement overcame trepidation and he had lifted the phone to his ear and answered before he knew what happened. ‘Grace . . .’ he began.

‘Get your ass back here,’ she cut him off. ‘Well, get your ass over here. I’m in my apartment. I never dismissed you.’

He tried to chuckle, but the encounter with Hicks had stolen his mirth. It came out forced.

Grace was no fool. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I’m fine.’

‘You sound out of breath. Are you fucking someone else already?’

‘What? No!’

‘Relax, babe. I’m not the jealous type. Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I just . . . I got waylaid on my way to lunch.’

‘Sounds like it was one hell of a fight. You’re practically panting.’

‘Are you meeting with Crucible today? I really need to talk to him.’

‘Why? Is something going on with the program? With the test subject?’

‘Will you stop interrogating me?’

‘Sure, just as soon as I get the answers I want. Did your command kill the project?’

‘No, no. The Army is fine . . . can we please just . . .’

‘Not the government then. Someone from the outside? A private entity?’

Harlequin stammered, his natural instinct against deceit warring with his instinct to take time and think the matter through.

Grace’s voice went cold. ‘Entertech.’

Harlequin’s sudden silence was more damning than his words.

‘It was Hicks, wasn’t it? That fucker. Whatever he told you is shit. He’s been dogging my heels ever since I founded Channel.’

‘You’d make one hell of an interrogator.’

‘And you’d make a lousy spy. You couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it.’

Embarrassment stilled Harlequin’s tongue.

‘Don’t get your panties in a bunch,’ Grace said. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone. I should have warned you that Hicks’d come sniffing around.’

‘Grace, how did he know?’

‘You think the government has the market cornered on spying? Corporations do it, too, Jan. We do it more, and we do it better. I’m sure Entertech has moles inside my organization. They made an offer to buy the project out of nowhere a few months back and were none too pleased when I refused to sell. It’s not about making money for me, and never was. What did he say?’

‘Not much. Just a lot of BS about how weird it was that you started a pharmaceutical company after doing finance for so long.’

‘My God, what a dick.’ Grace sounded furious.

‘If you talk to Crucible, tell him I’ve been trying to reach him.’

‘Don’t mention this to him.’

‘What? Why? He needs to know. Maybe he can help root these . . .’

‘Trust me on this, Jan. He’s a nice guy and all, but this is private stuff. I can’t have the government getting involved. There’s a lot at stake here.’

‘Like what?’

‘Just . . . don’t worry about it, Jan. Leave it, please. There’s nothing Crucible can do anyway.’

The phone started to beep, he held it briefly away from his ear to see who was calling.

‘Grace, it’s Crucible. Let me go, I have to talk to him.’

‘Don’t tell him! I’m serious, Jan. This is a private concern of mine and the Channel corporation, and it’s not to go any further than us.’

‘I have to go, Grace. I’ll call you tonight.’

Grace was yelling as he switched over to Crucible’s call. ‘Sir.’

‘Sir?’ Crucible laughed. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, just . . .’ Harlequin paused. He felt Hicks’s card in his pocket, heard Grace yelling in his ear.

‘Jan? What did you call me for? What’s going on?’ Crucible asked.

Harlequin’s vision filled with Grace’s sleeping form, tangled up in a blanket on her office couch, his arm wrapped around her slender shoulders.

‘Jan?’ Moonlight passing through the window, dusting her hair.

‘Nothing, si . . .’ Harlequin had said before he knew it. ‘It’s nothing.’