Black Hawk Day Rewind: An action packed spy thriller (Mark Savannah Espionage Series Book 1) (26 page)

91

"Jago? It's me, I'm wasting my days going around in circles, any news from the informants or Interpol?"

"Hi, Anaïs! Absolute zero, nothing. Where are you?"

"I’m still in Fort Smith, but I scoured the city, there is not even a hint of Savannah here. I have to come back and reconsider all the evidence again and try another strategy; the current approach is time and money down the drain."

Green knew very well that Skylinep92 was right, but the Colonel had been clear: Anaïs could not come back to Biosketch Technologies Inc. at the moment. On the other hand, he couldn’t cancel her mission as she would be suspicious if he didn’t allocate her another higher priority assignment.

"You know that I cannot make these decisions,” said Green. “I'll connect you to Colonel Reed. I've just seen him, he’s not busy at the moment, and it’s better that you speak with him directly."

Green switched the call to Walton I. Reed’s line.

"Hello, Anaïs. Jago told me that you are running into trouble."

"I'm not in trouble…Good morning, Colonel…I'm just wasting my time here, I should come back and reconsider the set of events and clues from another perspective. Savannah cannot have vanished into thin air, he definitely has operational support and this is making it more difficult to find him. Either that or he has taken the risk of crossing the border into Mexico on foot, but I doubt it. In fact, it is not only the U.S. border police that hits hard and over there in Mexico they make you disappear without much fuss, unless he’s being protected by someone, as I think."

"You are right to be frustrated, but I'm convinced that the best solution is to probe the bus route to Texas thoroughly as you are doing right now. You have almost finished, and at least we’ll know that despite travelling through several southern states he hasn't stopped in Texas and presumably hasn’t entered Mexico."

"Sir, I don’t think that's a good idea, I think it is better to reconsider the evidence we have collected so far."

"Anaïs, if it wasn’t you, I'd say you're moving along an inopportune path of insubordination. I know your hot spirit, we’re on the phone, with no witnesses, and I loved your mother, but don’t argue with me. The decision is mine alone, and you are an operative agent!" Then, softening his tone, the Colonel continued, "I promised you that you would direct Mayer’s astrophysics laboratory after this job, it is waiting for you. Everything is already arranged and agreed."

"Okay, sir,” replied Anaïs. “I’ll continue the investigation. I’ll head to Oklahoma City, then Dallas. I’ll keep in touch with Green. See you soon, sir. Do you happen to need a pilot again?"

"Sorry, I already replaced Anderson with a new pilot, and besides that's not your job. Goodbye, Anaïs, now find that bastard Savannah."

Anaïs angrily ended the communication, she hated Walton I. Reed; even after all this time she could not understand how her mother had been able to maintain a relationship for twenty years with a man who was so arrogant, cynical, presumptuous and fond of power.

She got back into her car and set the navigator for Oklahoma City, she would have to travel about 182 miles, about three hours driving.

Anaïs decided to make a detour near the Oklahoma City. She was demotivated, tired, and she didn’t understand why Reed had been so insistent. She had a feeling that he didn’t want her in the way.

She drove in the direction of the Wiley Post airport; it was time to get airborne for a while.

She rented a Cessna 172 R, a newer model of the 172 M in which she had flown over the Grand Canyon with Green. The fuel injected engine of the 172 R, along with the internal noise suppression systems, made the flight softer and more pleasant. At that moment she didn’t care where she went, she was only interested in taking her feet, soul and thoughts off the ground and chasing the horizon, pretending she didn’t know it was unattainable.

Alone, she looked over at the seat next to her and its emptiness hurt her, reproached her for being like a large cloud generated by a rotor that she saw in front of her: it was static in the sky, only a small portion was visible, illuminated by the fading sun, otherwise the cloud merged with the darkening sky.

Anaïs got to Oklahoma City late that evening. She felt restless and jumpy. She got a room at a hotel and then went out for a walk. That evening she wouldn’t call Jago C. Green, let alone Colonel Reed.

92

"Good morning, Brad, how did it go with your friend yesterday? I’m told that you were with her for a couple of hours," Mark Savannah asked while visiting him in the late morning.

"It went well!” replied Brad. “I was really calm and I had no problem with my sex drive. We just chatted the whole time. She said she missed me, but who would imagine it?"

"You’ve made unexpected progress, Brad. Next week I'll discharge you from the hospital; I think it's time for you to get back to your daily life. We're going to decrease your drug dosage gradually to allow your body to adjust before stopping the therapy completely. Just one thing… no web connection for six months, you could easily fall into it your old patterns, basically it’s like alcohol dependence."

"I'm in! I'm so happy!"

"I’m happy and satisfied, too, Brad. Goodbye, see you tomorrow."

Mark left Brad Foster, who was beside himself with joy; soon Brad would regain his freedom and finally he would court a girl in a healthy and friendly manner. Mark walked down the corridor to his next patient’s room.

"Alan, how are you this morning?" He asked Alan Cox as he entered the room.

"I'm fine boss…nice to know that I never actually died!” laughed Cox. “I’m using the BlackBerry again, no particular emotions, and no excitement. When do you think I’ll be able to leave the hospital?"

"Still another week to go, Alan. I want to test you with external stimuli when you least expect it; now you're taking a mild anti-anxiety medication, but if you keep on like this within ten days you'll be back home. Well, now I'll have a look at you."

During the visit, Mark noticed that Pavel was trying to communicate with him, so he took his smartphone, and wrote "Later, sorry." to him.

An hour later Mark was in his office, the door closed, sitting down at his desk where he logged onto Pavel’s secure line.

"QRV?"

"Here I am. Hi! George Turner, 1st Armored Division, Fort Bliss, Texas. Transplanted, brain tissue, project "Brainexe". There is no trace of this project’s existence apart from the number of soldiers involved – 4842 – all of them from different military bases and in Special Forces for special training purposes. I have not found any other information, except this line from a document that was badly deleted from the system. There’s nothing else. Yeah, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the perfect soldier, cannon fodder ready for action!"

"Reed has been creating special forces, very special, the level of aggression has increased,” said Mark. “I saw Turner’s reaction, it was really scary. The point is that he also had hallucinations. Something has definitely gotten out of control, and so Reed & C. came up with the bad batch idea to silence Marshall, who is neither part of the CIA nor of the Defense department and might interfere with their plans.

“They are buying time…I’m guessing they don’t understand what the cause of the phenomenon of the brain waves and of the aggression is.

“The project "Transtem 1.1" has the goal of creating a social facade to fund research and development on the military front and since they need substantial funds, they are industrializing the development and production chain in order to export it with profit overseas. It's a crime that Reed has such uncommon but corrupt intelligence."

"Mark, I agree with your analysis. What are you gonna do?"

"Act, I have to act! The transplant patients are in danger, and they are a danger to others if the aggression doesn’t decrease, but this is linked to the performance and the frequency of the brain waves. And there’s another side to this: if I nail Reed I'll be free and finally I'll be able to stop hiding. Do you think Davis knew about it? He kicked me here, and certainly not by chance."

"I agree with you,” said Pavel, “but then, what the hell is Davis doing in Argentina?"

"He's hiding from Reed. Can you believe it? Do you want to bet that he's using me to free himself? It would be the last straw, served and revered without risking his own skin, while I climb up mirrors chased by a pack of angry and bloodthirsty Rottweilers."

"Ho!Ho!Ho! I think I can see you in the mirror as you are sliding down, scraping your fingernails like Wile E. Coyote in the cartoons!" Pavel answered but he returned immediately serious.

"It's necessary to get into Biosketch Technologies Inc.,” continued Savannah. “If Reed, Bain & company have not yet found the key to the problem, it means that it is not the drug, and besides, damn it, Brad Foster didn’t undergo any change."

"And how are you thinking of getting into their facility? I don't want to die in a virtual duel with Jago C. Green. Afterwards he would search for me physically, he has money, and ammunition that I cannot afford. Biosketch Technologies Inc. will have sophisticated security systems."

"If I survive and find an explanation to the situation, you won’t need to do anything." Mark replied quietly.

"I forbid you to do shit like that! Have you transplanted yourself with neuronal tissue from a moron?" shouted Pavel. He had understood perfectly well what Mark was intending to do.

"I have no choice," Mark Savannah replied in a low voice. "Since my father died in Mogadishu, I have never had a choice. Fuck! I have to find Marshall…if I don't convince him and I act without letting him know, he will denounce me. I can’t take that chance."

93

"Bain, give me some good news or you can go back to the lab!" Reed said through clenched teeth, sitting at the meeting table in his office.

Bain looked at him directly in the eyes and then started to turn on his heel and leave.

"Okay, I was joking. Damn it, are we all here? Yeah? OK, Ransley, I’ll hand it over to you. Nothing verbal. I don’t care about the procedures, this is a court martial case!"

"Sir, we’re certain that it is not the drug,” Ransley said in a dead voice. “If we decrease the doses we don't get a reduction in the side effect, and it’s the same when we increase the doses. We get the same result even if the drug is discontinued for a couple of days. From this it follows that it is not solely the dosage of the medicine.

“During our surveys, we observed that the intensity of the brain waves and their frequency remained stable, which means the effects have remained constant since they started to manifest in an unusual way.

“The same situation is true for the aggressive and anti-social behavior that transplant recipients have acquired; they react in a way that is, we might say, almost unnatural and they are subject to extreme mood swings. In this respect, we administered a minimum dose of antipsychotics, which we subsequently stopped because they had no effect on the patient except for a sedative effect. In short, Neuroxenia seems to be absolved for lack of evidence."

"What if it was precisely the molecule that triggered all this?" Reed asked visibly worried.

"Colonel, the point is that there are patients who have had the transplant for three years as well as recently transplanted patients."

"Jago? The controls on the production chain?"

"I detected a rise in temperature, although not significant, in the production of the tissue. It was immediately corrected by the central system."

"Has it also happened in the past?"

"Yes, of course, this anomaly has become routine since the beginning. We’re talking about neuronal tissue. Bain?"

"Walton, they are neurons, even if the environment is overprotected, there is always some activity, although imperceptible."

"Have you changed the Neuroxenia manufacturing procedures, Jago?"

"No sir, but we updated the ERP three weeks ago and maybe it would be worthwhile to investigate this area as we’re not able to get to the bottom of it, even though we went in parallel for six months and we have performed all possible tests."

"Why? What do you think it might be? You built the ERP and you were in charge of the upgrade."

"Sir, it's not the software, but the procedures they have decided to code. I’m an information technology guy, not a chemist, a biologist, or a doctor. I cannot evaluate the details of those areas. I can tell you that some procedures have changed even though I cannot tell you which ones. Of course, there is a trace recorded by the system, it's enough to compare them."

"Could this affect the composition of the drug?" asked Reed.

"Why not?" Bain said. "We’re still fucking alchemists, Walton…and an infinitesimal change can cause a significant deviation. It seems like an excellent idea to me, Jago."

"How long it will take?" urged Reed.

"Not less than three weeks, with the alternation of the specialists at my side," said Green.

"It's all here, you world famous hacker. What the fuck?" Reed exclaimed angrily.

"And if I tell you that 2 equals 1 without giving a justification, what would you make of it?" said Jago, who had now become purple.

The Colonel nodded his head, he knew perfectly well that Green was right.

"The families of the transplant patients could be a problem. Even if the clinical centers are "supporting" the situation and avoiding leaks, we cannot expect the same from the families," said John Hancock, a biochemist.

"What is the problem?” asked Bain. “The minimum dosage of antipsychotics brings the heated spirits under control as we have seen. The family won’t notice, we put the antipsychotics all in the same package for two weeks to start…then, we'll see. If, in the meantime, we find the source of this mess, we’ll suspend them immediately. There are no significant side effects at that dosage, there are no risks to patients and we gain more time."

"Any other ideas?" Reed asked. "No? Well, since there are 14 of us with no idea how to get out of this mess at this time, I’d say we all need a transplant of neuronal tissue ideas. I declare the meeting over. No record for obvious reasons. Jago, as agreed, begin the audit immediately. Stay with me for ten minutes, I need to talk to you."

The researchers left the room and Jago C. Green, who still hadn’t fully recovered from the blatantly rude comments made by Reed, stayed with the Colonel.

"What about the Russians, Jago? How are they doing? Grigoriy’s taking too many risks, they could go haywire, and he will blow the deal!”

"He must have judged that they have skin as thick as a drum, sir. We don’t know which previous challenges they have survived."

"That's true, now I’m going to call him, but what the hell is wrong with the guy?"

The Colonel picked up the mobile phone and dialed a number, and then hung up immediately. The landline phone was ringing and it was Michael Mitchell from a secure Pentagon line.

"Michael, how are you?"

"Well, thank you, Walton. And you?"

"I'm up shit creek."

"Soon you’ll be even deeper in the shit…after what I'm going to tell you."

"What's going on?" asked Reed.

"Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan. A U.S. Army soldier and one from the Air Force had an altercation with some marines. Afterwards they attacked and killed them."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Reed.

"And guess how?" said Mitchell.

"Guns?"

"Nah, they slew them, they slaughtered four Marines, Walton, and no one could stop them."

"What do you mean?" asked an alarmed Reed.

"They took a truck and went to Bagram, there they killed three other people in the same bloody way."

"Civilians?"

"No, marines,” continued Mitchell. “I had to contact your colleagues in Afghanistan so they could send some cleaners and cover up the whole affair. Fortunately, it was dark and there were no witnesses. Officially, it was a Taliban attack. The press will release our story tomorrow. As the Taliban always deny these stories, there should be no problem.

“But what the hell is going on, Walton?” asked Mitchell, obviously alarmed by the situation. “These two soldiers were transplanted years ago and they had never shown any sign of imbalance. They demonstrated insane aggressiveness and greater strength than the other soldiers."

"Holy shit, holy shit!" exclaimed Reed very worried. "Who started it?"

"Why? Is that important?" asked Mitchell.

"Yes, it is."

"The Marines did. Witnesses have made and signed statements accusing the victims of two unpleasant events the night before."

"OK. At least now we know that they haven’t gone completely out of their minds, but that they were provoked. On the one hand, this makes me feel better, it means that their aggression snaps under precise stimuli."

"I’m afraid that there will be other episodes,” said Mitchell, “if you don’t find the solution, Walton."

"Yeah, I realize that. I'm doing everything possible to solve the problem. Now we are checking the entire chain of production, there was an updating of the software and of the procedures. Let's hope that the key to the problem is there."

"You know Walton, let's face it, "Brainexe" is actually a success. It was what you and I wanted, it's just that I would like to have my men 100% under control. How can we do that?"

"For "Transtem 1.1" patients we have decided to give the minimum dosage of antipsychotic medication incognito for two weeks,” answered Reed. “It has a sedative effect and doesn’t entail significant consequences for the patients. If we give it to the soldiers, they will become spineless, and they will never do anything interesting, but I think that given this episode, it’d be better to calm things down for a while."

"I agree with you,” said Mitchell, “even taking into account the very recent performance of George Turner, 1st Armored Division at Fort Bliss, Texas."

"What are you talking about? I wasn’t informed!" snapped Reed.

"I would have reported it earlier, sir, but I haven't simply because I wanted to be sure that it wasn’t just a panic attack without any connection to the brain wave issues. I’m afraid the link to the phenomenon is now obvious.

“Turner was hospitalized at the Southwestern County Medical Center in Dallas after of a car accident,” explained Mitchell. “In the emergency room he gave clear signs of mental instability and aggression. They removed him from the hospital shortly after having detected him via his micro RF-ID tag, along with all related medical records and test results."

"Shit! That pain in the ass David Marshall again!"

"Don't worry, there was only the emergency room doctor who made no objection. Marshall wasn’t involved and the results of the magnetic resonance imaging weren’t seen by anyone."

"That was a stroke of luck, Michael!” said Reed. “Let’s hope we can stem the side effects. And now, where is Turner? What is his condition?"

"He’s at the Fort Bliss infirmary, he eventually suffered only a few bruises, but he’s pissed off at the world. For the moment he’s sedated. Walton, send me the new packaging with the antipsychotic as soon as possible. Meanwhile we’ll keep in touch."

"Certainly, Michael. See you soon, and if you have any more bad news call me immediately."

"I will. Goodbye."

"Did you hear that, Jago?” Reed turned to Jago obviously really alarmed. “If we don't get our asses in gear there will be great risks for everyone. I’ll try to call that crazy Grigoriy, the last thing we need is to blow the agreement with the Russians. Fuck fuck fuck!"

Reed picked up his mobile phone and called Kozloy.

"Grigoriy, you old communist asshole, how are you? This is Walton!"

"Walton, the most capitalist busybody bitch I've ever met! I'm fine and you?"

"Yes, I'm fine too. When are we going to get drunk in the company of your ladies’ "marble tits and asses"?” Reed asked.

"All they do is ask about you, they are preparing their tongues because you love it as rough as that of cats," said a seraphic Kozloy.

"I would say that we meet on neutral ground as usual when we conclude this deal of the century, then you’ll stop sticking it in that place to other people," said the Colonel sarcastically.

"I see you're always first in line, bravo. You’ll earn a medal and you won’t die covered in shit!" answered the KGB man, finally laughing.

"I know you have sent your soldiers to some training fields, Grigoriy. Do you want them to explode? It's too soon, fuck! We haven’t delivered all the correct procedures to you yet."

"You know well that I decide for my men; they are being tested and are responding wonderfully.

“Their brain waves have settled on high levels in terms of frequency and intensity, the same situation for the aggression: they don’t feel the fatigue and they feel less the pain."

"What? Are you carrying out pain tests on them? You're even worse than a Nazi!" said Reed.

"Do you think I would have bought the product without testing it. What the fuck do you take me for?! Of course I’m doing that! They are the ones who accept, Walton. They are the ones who want to test themselves!"

"Oh my god, Grigoriy! We had some aggression problems after strong provocation; some soldiers died as a result. You must understand this: the product works for sure, but you have to keep it under control and I still have no idea how to do that. For the moment we’re calming down our guys chemically, and as soon as we identify the trigger there will be no more problems."

"Are they also aggressive against things and the surrounding environment?" asked Grigoriy quietly.

"No, absolutely not, only towards the people they are, so to speak, attacked by…whether verbally or physically. They act after provocation."

"And so what the fuck are you worried about? At the very least you eliminate the weaker military race!" said Grigoriy.

"With the other project we’re dealing with civilians, this is not to be trifled with Grigoriy. Civilians can screw up both programs, if I don't get the situation in hand."

"You have always been a man of your word and the mere fact that you speak with total transparency of the problem only makes you honorable; as for me, at the moment I'm excited and I would set the test period to only three months before signing the agreement, if this is okay for you, of course."

"Thanks, Grigoriy. Sure, that's fine with me, and I'm sure both of us will make a great deal out of this."

"As usual. Until next time goodbye, Walton. Keep me informed of developments."

"Certainly. See you soon, Grigoriy."

The Colonel ended the call and leant back into his chair.