Black Harvest (The PROJECT) (21 page)

"Men coming." Korov gestured over his shoulder. The light from the blazing building cast a bright red glow. Ronnie fired at shapes in the darkness. Muzzle flashes answered, winking at them in the night. They heard Lamont's M4. Steady, three round bursts.

Nick's voice on their headsets. "If they get between us and the fence, we're screwed. We run for it. Lamont, we're coming in."

"Roger."

"Now."

They sprinted for the opening in the fence. M-16s chattered behind them. Dirt flew around their feet.

Ten yards from the fence Ronnie went down. He cried out, once.

No one spoke. Korov and Nick lifted him, each on one side. They started again for the fence. Something hit Nick in his back like a hammer and he went to the ground, taking Korov and Ronnie with him. Ronnie cried out again. Nick got to his feet. They dragged Ronnie through the fence. Selena ran backwards behind them, firing at their pursuers. Lamont kept up covering fire from the truck. Spent casings littered the ground around him.

They heaved Ronnie into the back of the truck. Korov clambered in beside him. For a big man, he moved fast. Lamont fired a last burst and climbed in on the other side.

Nick got behind the wheel and started the engine. Selena scrambled into the passenger side. A window shattered. More rounds punched into the truck, hard, metallic sounds. He gunned the Suburban and headed away from the compound and hoped nothing hit the gas tank. The rear view mirror filled with bright spots like deadly fireflies in the night. Behind them, Building Four burned with sullen ferocity. Smaller fires marked the vehicles they'd destroyed.

Nick drove into the dark and prayed he didn't run into a wash or a stand of cactus. When he figured they were far enough away he turned on the lights. He pictured the map of Texas in his mind and drove across the plain, headed for the nearest road. They'd left the second vehicle, the Barrett, the launcher. Sooner or later Lodge and Dansinger would figure it out.

His back was numb. His arms didn't work as well as he would have liked. Nick heard Korov in the back seat.

"You were shot. Are you wounded?"

"I'll be okay. The vest stopped it. Thirty layers of Kevlar, it'll stop a .308. Usually. Felt like Barry Bonds slugged me with his bat. Lamont, How's Ronnie?"

"I've got the bleeding stopped. He took one in his right leg. Got the bone."

"Conscious?"

A hoarse croak from the back seat. "Yeah, I'm conscious. Hurts some."

"Run faster next time."

"Speak for yourself, Kemo Sabe." Ronnie turned to Korov. "Thanks for dragging me out of there."

Korov shrugged. "You would have done the same, nyet? It is what we do."

Ronnie nodded. "Yeah. It's what we do."

The Texas night stretched ahead of them. A rabbit darted away in the lights.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Wendell Lodge was enraged. He was dismayed. It was bad that the stockpile of the virus had been destroyed, but it was only a setback. In the end, an annoying inconvenience. More could be produced. There would always be crops.

The fact Demeter had been discovered was what dismayed him. It was the rest of it that enraged him. He'd traced the vehicle left behind to Sheppard AFB. From there he'd followed the trail to a dead end. The RPG launcher was standard military issue. The plasma cutter found near the fence was not standard issue. Few could get their hands on that. The heavy Barrett rifle was another sign of professionals. Who had the capability, the balls, to do something like this? An all out assault on American soil?

Lodge knew. He felt the rage building. The President's pet covert ops team, Harker and her Project. It was just the kind of thing they were good at. No one else would dare. Harker was always meddling. She'd meddled in the wrong place this time. He would put an end to her interference once and for all. She was playing hardball. Two could play that game. But he needed to be careful.

Lodge swiveled around in the red leather executive chair he favored and studied the view through the French doors of his study. It was a fine morning, a pleasant view, the Virginia countryside green with spring. Dogwoods bloomed on the landscaped rolling lawn in back of his colonial home. Ordered flowerbeds shouted with color. Normally the view pleased him. Not today.

In the closed world of the CIA, no one rose to his level by accident. Lodge was, after all, a spy. He thought like a spy. He understood the game, how it worked. He had resources Harker didn't know about.

Someone had tipped her off. There weren't many who could have done that. Lodge was certain she could not have found out about Demeter in any other way. The deaths of Campbell and the others and the events in Greece had sent her after the urn. But she could never have discovered Dansinger's involvement or Demeter without help.

He would find out how she knew and plug the leak. He would take her and her team of trouble makers out of the picture for good. A plan began to form in his mind. The close bonding of the members of Harker's team was a weak spot, a vulnerability. He could exploit that vulnerability and use it to destroy them. He'd start with the weakest link.

Lodge had been waiting for this for a long time.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Bob Elroy was worried sick. Something was wrong with the wheat. He and Billy had worked all morning on the machinery back at the barn. Now they stood by the fence, looking at the fields. Four days ago the wheat had been green and healthy.

Things had changed. Long patches of sickly yellow and brown fanned out into the crop. It kept spreading, whatever it was. He'd put in a call to the local office of the USDA. Someone was coming out today.

"Shit, Bob. Don't look good."

"I can't figure it. It's not insects. More like some kind of blight. There's never been anything like that around here."

"The USDA guy will know what it is."

"I guess so. Even if they've got something to stop it, it looks like I'll lose half the crop."

"You got insurance, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not enough if I lose it all. And the bank won't give me a break."

"That's for sure."

Like everyone he knew, Bob walked a fine line between profit and loss, survival and bankruptcy. The bank ruled his life, and the less said about it the better. It used to be different, back when things had been local, run by people who understood what farming was about. But then the economy tanked. His community bank was gobbled up by one of the big corporations. Now decisions about his life were made by people thousands of miles away who'd never been closer to a farm than a supermarket. It was hard enough being a farmer, what with the weather and pests and cost of things like diesel and fertilizer and insect control. Now this.

Bob didn't want to admit it, but the hollow feeling in his stomach felt like fear. Fear for his livelihood. Fear for Mae and his kids. Fear he would lose everything.

The day was crisp and sunny. A fresh, strong breeze blew across the Nebraska plains. Bob's land was in the heart of America's bread basket. Fields of wheat and corn spread for a hundred miles in every direction. Winter crops coming up, crops being planted. An ancient cycle, one he understood. 

Bob loved his life. He loved farming. He thought few things were more beautiful than the silent fall of snow covering the fields during the winter, or watching towering clouds and lightning build on the far horizon in the heat of summer. Listening to the crops rustle in the wind. For Bob, amber waves of grain was a lot more than a line in a song. It was the American dream come true.

The spreading darkness in his fields was a different kind of dream, an American nightmare.

CHAPTER FIFTY

AEON meant forever.

400 years
before,
AEON had been born in the political unease of eighteenth century Europe.

AEON had always been about the accumulation of wealth. With wealth came power. With power came control. With control came more power, more wealth and the ability to shape the destiny of nations. With the ability to shape nations came the plan.

The ideology embraced by AEON was the ideology of power. Democracy or Fascism, right or left, it was all the same. Over the centuries AEON had learned how to manipulate them all. Political systems were merely a means to increased wealth and the creation of rigid economic separation between worker units and rulers.

The goal was in sight. The infrastructure to identify, track and contain dissidents, the corruption of government agencies across the world, the control of world finances, all were in place. Demeter and Black Harvest were the opening gambit in the final implementation of the plan.

The council had nine members, held to strict rules of accountability. There were two Americans, one member from the UK, and one each from France, China, Germany, Russia, Brazil and Japan. Meetings were held by teleconference via state of the art encrypted technology. The criterion of success was rigidly applied to each member. Mistakes were not excused and meant expulsion with unpleasant results.

Harold Dansinger was the newest member of the inner circle. He was still on probationary status. He could express his view, but could not vote when decisions were made.

The raid in Texas was a personal disaster. Dansinger needed to reassure the others that things could be brought under control and that exposure was not a remote possibility. He needed to reassure them that he himself was not a liability.

Malcolm Foxworth was the member from England. Foxworth owned a media empire that encircled the globe. Foxworth was the Supreme Leader of AEON, but he preferred the title of Chairman. It was so much more democratic sounding.

Foxworth began. "Harold, help us understand the current situation, why don't you?" Members of the Council were always addressed by their first names. It created an illusion of equality.

"As you know, Malcolm, the stockpile of Demeter was destroyed. The raid was carried out by a black ops unit called Project. It reports to the President only."

Foxworth's face hardened. "We know about the Project. They created a problem for us not long ago."

Dansinger wanted to guide their thoughts away from himself. "The actions of DCI Lodge resulted in their interest and involvement."

There was no visible reaction by Foxworth. Dansinger continued.

"I have restarted production of Demeter in the Utah facility. Stockpiles will be renewed within two months."

He sipped water. The others watched from the screens.

"What about the outbreak in Nebraska?" It was the other American member. "How did this happen? That was not part of the original plan. What do you intend to do?"

"I have not yet discovered how Demeter was released, but I believe the outbreak can work to our advantage. We simply alter the sequencing of the plan. It gives us an opportunity to refine it.
We let the virus spread.
An antidote will be discovered, offered and applied. The virus will be stopped. Unfortunately, that same antidote will not be effective in the other areas of the world, once we implement infection."

Foxworth said, "Go on."

"Before the virus is contained the US government will be forced to quarantine parts of the country. Martial law will be necessary. The detention centers are empty and ready. It's an election year. Rice will be blamed. It might be an opportunity to remove him, one way or another."

Heads nodded. So far, they were with him.

"What is your exposure?"

"Minimal. There is no evidence of anything. I don't know how the Project found out about Demeter, but Lodge is working on that as we speak. The President cannot act openly without proof. All evidence regarding Demeter was destroyed in the attack on my facility. They cannot prove I have any involvement. Once I introduce the antidote no one would dare confront me."

Foxworth considered Dansinger's words. "Very well. We will take this under further discussion. Harold, you will keep us updated on your progress."

Under the words Dansinger heard a warning.

Dansinger's screen went blank.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Alexei Vysotsky listened to Korov's report.