Days of Rage (33 page)

I
heard nothing else from Jennifer and left the whole IMSI grabber mess of computers and cell phone paraphernalia where it lay, running down the back of the building to catch up with Aaron.

I slid in behind him and said, “This place is fucking crawling with Russians. We were set up.”

Working the lock to the door, he said, “One’s inside here. He’s got a submachine gun.”

“I have to get to Jennifer. Right fucking now.”

I started to move away and he grabbed my arm. “Don’t. There’s a killer in here with a weapon. You leave, you expose us all.”

He was right, but it didn’t help my mood. “Then get this thing open, or move aside and let me do it.”

He went back to work on the lock, whispering, “She will be okay. Shoshana thinks Jennifer is like your Star Wars movies. Something special.”

“What? A fucking Jedi?”

He said, “Yes.”

I whispered, “That’s fucking crazy. She’s no match for a bunch of Russians.”

The lock broke free and he turned the knob slowly, inching it forward from its decayed grave, wanting to prevent the rusted hinges from making noise. He said, “Shoshana’s never wrong. She thinks the same of you, but I don’t know why.”

He pushed it open enough for us to enter and I slid in through the door, now quiet, getting far enough to allow him to follow. We both crouched, letting our eyes adjust to the starlight. The entry room had two exits. One straight ahead, and one to the right. He touched my arm and pointed to the door to our front. I nodded, moving to the opening on the right. Before either of us could take two steps, a black blob exploded out of my door, straight toward me.

The man held a long gun of some sort and was wearing night observation goggles. He saw me and skidded to a halt, bringing his weapon up. I launched straight at him, slapping the barrel high and driving my fist into his throat. He fell to his knees, gasping for air through his shattered larynx, the giant Russian goggles bobbing up and down.

I dropped a step back and lined up a roundhouse kick, whipping my entire weight behind it and catching him just behind the ear. He slammed into the ground like he’d been poleaxed. Which I suppose he had.

Aaron and I both sat still for a moment, hands out in a fighting stance, assessing whether anyone else was coming. We heard nothing. I turned to him, seeing his eyes in the dim moonlight. Looking at me with respect.

I started searching the body and he pulled out his phone, saying, “I see Shoshana was right. Remarkable reflexes.” He grabbed the Russian’s subgun with his free hand, and I slapped it away, jerking the PP-19 from his grasp.

I said, “In my world the Jedi gets what he earned.”

His phone connected and he said something in Hebrew.

I pulled off the NODs, found a pistol, and threw it to him, saying, “We need to move. Going out the front. I’ll lead.”

He said, “Daniel is on the way. Don’t shoot him.”

I took off at a fast trot, reaching the front door and jerking it open. I surveyed the street with the Russian NODs before exiting. They worked okay, but reminded me of stuff we used in the 1990s. In the green glow I saw a man running toward the linkup building.

Daniel.

I jerked the NODs off my head and started sprinting through the grass. I hit the pavement, my legs churning as fast as I could make them go, and saw another man to my right, seventy-five meters ahead. He took a knee and raised a weapon. Even at this distance I recognized him. It was Yuri, the pale-skinned, vampire-looking son of a bitch who had killed my men. He let loose a burst and missed. I took a knee and raised my own weapon. He fired again, and Daniel tumbled to the earth. I squeezed the trigger, throwing rounds downrange in a bid to take him down. I missed. The man stood up, unaware of my attack. He began running straight toward the building.

The window next to the front door exploded in a shower of glass and I saw two bodies locked in mortal combat.

Jesus. Jennifer.

I leapt up and began running as fast as I could, desperately trying to close the distance, knowing if Jennifer wasn’t dead, she would be shortly. The man had reached the edge of the lawn and had stopped sprinting. He raised his weapon, aiming it at Jennifer. I threw my own weapon up to my shoulder, still running flat-out. I screamed and squeezed off a burst.

A dark flash came from nowhere, tackling him. He grappled with the wraith, slamming it into the ground. I saw him wrap his hands into the person’s hair and realized it was Shoshana. The man raised his fist in a killing blow, and I shouted again.

Yuri finally realized I existed. Still holding Shoshana’s hair with one hand, he reached down with the other and grasped the PP-19. He raised it, shooting one-handed. I dropped and rolled, getting out of the line of fire, diving behind an old defunct junction box. The bullets pinged the cheap metal, sounding like rain on a tin roof. I crawled to the right and raised my weapon.

 • • • 

Yuri fired two more bursts at the junction box, snarling like a chained dog. The girl in his grasp rolled to the left, torquing her body around the hand in her hair and trying to kick him. He hammered her forehead with the butt of his weapon, drawing blood. She curled into a ball, hands over her skull.

Down the street he saw headlights spill into the cul-de-sac and knew it was Peter. Reinforcements on the way.

He said, “You idiots picked the wrong fight.”

He placed the barrel against her head, then heard a noise behind him. The door to the building had opened. He whirled and saw the woman from the linkup coming. The killer of his men, holding a section of pipe and swinging. He raised the PP-19 and the metal slammed into his shoulder, crunching bone and drawing a scream. He rolled to the left, letting go of his captive to get away from the club. He brought the weapon up again with his weak hand, holding it out in front of him toward the satanic bitch with the pipe, but she’d already moved. He turned, desperately trying to find her.

The pipe came down on his good arm, shattering it and causing him to drop the submachine gun. He looked up at her, now helpless.

He said, “Go ahead. Do it.”

She said nothing. She dropped the pipe. His face split into a rictus grin.

“You fucking weaklings. I cannot believe we lost to people like you.”

He felt fingers snake through his hair, then snap his head back.

The other woman said, “Say hello to Daniel on your way to hell.”

I
leveled my weapon at Yuri, but didn’t pull the trigger. He had lost my location, but I couldn’t shoot with what I had. The PP-19 wasn’t an accurate weapon to begin with, and this one certainly wasn’t dialed in for me. If I fired, I’d stand as much of a chance of hitting Shoshana as him.

Headlights from the rear rolled over my position. I turned around to see a vehicle approaching at high speed. The car launched right at me, bouncing in the air over the curb. I leapt over the top of the junction box, losing my weapon as the vehicle smashed into it, ripping it off the foundation but stopping the forward movement.

A man spilled out of the driver’s seat, raising another PP-19. I rolled over, sweeping the ground for the weapon and knowing he had beaten me to the draw. Praying his aim was off. A shot rang out and a dark mist exploded from his head, silhouetted by the glow of the headlights. He fell forward, revealing Aaron standing behind him, holding a pistol.

I nodded at him, then began moving forward, hearing Yuri scream in Russian, cracking off rounds that snapped through the air and caused Aaron to dive into the dirt. I darted around an overgrown patch of shrubs and heard Yuri shout in pain. When I regained line of sight I saw he was down, Jennifer above him holding a length of pipe.

I slowed, the night coalescing into one image burning into my brain: her standing.

Alive
.

Yuri started squirming on the ground and I began running again, closing the distance. Shoshana muscled him upright, sitting behind him and holding his head. I slowed to a trot and grinned, thinking he’d just entered his worst nightmare.

And I was right.

A long blade appeared in her right hand. Her left pulled his head back. I saw the future and screamed in futility, trying to stop her. Jennifer dove toward her arm, but was too late. Shoshana slid the knife across his neck and it split open like an obscene mouth, the blood flooding down his shirt.

By the time I reached them, he was dead. Jennifer sat heavily in the grass, the murder overwhelming her.

I kicked the knife out of Shoshana’s hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”

She leapt up and bared her teeth, on the verge of striking me. Aaron jerked my arm from behind and I whirled around, throwing a punch that didn’t connect. He slapped my fist away, dancing out of range.

I stood fuming. I flicked my head back and forth between them and said, “We don’t know where the African is. We don’t know where the bomb is headed. You just killed our only lead.”

Shoshana said, “That fucker killed Daniel. He was going down. No other way.”

I rubbed my face with my hand and said, “You people really need to get over the vengeance thing. Munich was a long time ago.”

She stood and wiped the blood off of her hands on her thigh. She looked at Daniel’s body and I saw a tear tracking down her cheek.

“Don’t lecture me. There is no bigger issue than my family. None. You told me you would do the same. He killed your men too.”

She broke her gaze from her dead friend, glancing at Jennifer, then at me. She said nothing, but I understood completely. I
had
said that. It was a shitty deal all the way around.

I said, “I’m sorry. I really am. But there’s a terrorist on the loose who’s going to attack a lot more people than just your friends.”

She looked at Aaron and said, “Daniel was right. I should have killed him.”

Confused by the statement, I looked at Aaron. He slowly shook his head and said, “That’s not true, Shoshana.”

“Yes. It is. Daniel said someone was going to die, and because I spared Pike, Daniel paid the price. This is my fault.”

I said, “What the fuck are you talking about? You think because you didn’t kill me in the Cistern you caused Daniel’s death?”

She said, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Jennifer cut in, surprising all of us. “Yes, he would. He understands more about the pain you feel than anyone here. There’s a reason he’s still standing, and you know what it is. You believe it just like I do.”

Now really confused, questioning if I was the only one wondering what the hell we were talking about, I said, “Believe what?”

Shoshana gave Jennifer a slight nod and said, “Believe in the name Nephilim. Believe that you have a purpose beyond just aggravating the hell out of me.”

A
s the men filed into the cramped briefing room of the old executive office building, Colonel Kurt Hale surveyed them closely, looking for signs of deception. Someone had sold the linkup information to the Russians, allowing them to set up an ambush, and Pike was convinced there was a mole buried inside the Taskforce. Given that Kurt had handpicked every member, he thought the idea far-fetched, but he had begun the laborious process of screening anyone who had access to the support and logistics of the cache infrastructure. A mole sitting on the Oversight Council itself was beyond discussion, yet he still couldn’t help but study the men as they circled around the table.

The last to enter, Alexander Palmer, told him that the president would be late and to begin without him. Kurt showed no outward emotion, but internally he grimaced. He wanted the president’s support, knowing this meeting was going to become contentious.

Now I know why he wanted a private briefing.

At President Warren’s request, he’d given an update earlier this morning, so he knew how the president would vote when the time came.

Kurt began, “Gentlemen, this is the update briefing for Project Prometheus operations targeting Boko Haram.”

That was the only statement he made where someone wasn’t shouting a question or demanding a further explanation. Before he had finished relating the actions of Pike’s team from the night before, Bruce Tupper became agitated, interrupting him.

“You said you did these operations all the time. That you weren’t amateurs. I remember saying linkups like this caused compromise and, sure as shit, you got compromised. How?”

“Sir, we’re investigating that. Right now, we believe the weak link was the man we had servicing the caches. Somewhere his operation was penetrated, and his information was used to set up an ambush for Pike’s team.”

“You mean a mole? Jesus. This is like the 1980s all over again.”

“No, sir. Not a mole. Our men and women are personally vetted by me, then they undergo the same lifestyle and CI polygraph as anyone working in the intelligence community. Each and every one. The cache controller worked for the CIA for over a decade before he began to work for us.”

The DNI slapped the table and said, “Have you ever heard of Robert Hanssen? He was a damn spy in the counterintelligence division for thirty years. Handpicked!”

Kurt held up his hands and said, “Sir, we’re taking precautions. Everyone associated is going through a polygraph procedure. All information technology systems are being forensically checked.”

Tupper said, “Everyone in your organization gets one. You understand? Don’t cut anyone slack in your building. That’s how Aldrich Ames lasted as long as he did. People simply couldn’t believe he could be the mole.”

Kurt said, “Yes, sir.”

Tupper continued, “What’s the cache asset’s story? What’s he saying?”

“We haven’t located him yet. We’re working it, but the man posing as him at the ambush had the real-world cache instructions and the keys to the drop site, which isn’t a good sign.”

Tupper scowled and said, “Cauterize anything he has touched. Do it now.”

Kurt nodded, saying, “Already done.”

Tupper fidgeted, looking for another line of attack when Palmer cut in. “Did Pike get anything from the ambush? Any intel?”

Glad for the change of topic, Kurt said, “Yes. First, there was a DHL receipt for a package getting mailed to Brasília, the capital of Brazil. We assume it’s the device, but the tracking number is no longer valid. We’ve already been through DHL trying to piece together why it’s being rejected, and apparently, it was never active. No package ever entered their system with that tracking number. Second, we have a vinyl sleeve with Cyrillic writing. Translated, it’s some type of instructions for keys to be used in an explosive device. Pretty much proof positive that the Russians are involved in this up to their eyeballs.”

Kurt failed to mention the biggest pieces of intelligence. Pike had also found a computer with folders on the desktop, all in Russian. He’d hooked it to the Internet, allowing the hacking cell to search the hard drive from Washington. They’d found some interesting communication methods involving the deep web, but no hard information. Kurt believed it was for talking to Chiclet, but Pike was convinced it was for communicating with a mole. He’d managed to talk Kurt into keeping the communications method secret in case it was used again.

The light above the door began flashing red, telling Kurt that someone wanted to enter the secure conference room. He waited, and Palmer let in the president.

Warren took Palmer’s seat at the head of the table and said, “Where are we?”

“Just getting to the intel indicators from the ambush.”

“Did you brief the Cyrillic stuff?”

“Yes, sir.”

President Warren turned to the secretary of state, Jonathan Billings, and said, “I want quiet pressure brought to bear on Russia. We don’t know if it’s sanctioned or not, but someone in their government is helping Boko Haram, and I want them to know we know.”

Billings nodded and said, “A sleeve with Cyrillic writing isn’t much to take to them. Do we have any other proof?”

President Warren scoffed and said, “Seriously? Yeah, we have more proof. The head of their intel agency was heard talking about a dirty bomb to a guy who ambushed Pike. And who also conveniently had the sleeve.”

Billings curled deep into his chair at the outburst and President Warren softened his tone. “Look, I don’t want this to be a Cuban Missile Crisis moment, with pictures thrown down at the UN. We don’t know what their involvement is at the end of the day. Do it quietly.”

Billings nodded and President Warren leaned back, saying, “Go ahead, Kurt.”

“Sir. I’m about done. We assess that Chiclet and the device are headed to Brazil, and I’d like permission to continue with Pike’s team. I believe we’re under the gun on this.”

Lindsey Bamf, one of two civilians on the Council, said, “Assuming it is Brazil, why there? Why not here in the States?”

Billings said, “First off, the vice president is down there right now. Along with a contingent of the Senate. They’re due to return in four days.”

“Would anyone know that?”

“Well, yeah. It’s all over the press.”

Kurt said, “The original voice cut also said they thought it would be too hard to get inside the United States. As for Brazil, the World Cup is starting. The tournament is played in twelve different stadiums in twelve different cities throughout Brazil, but we don’t think that’s the target. It’s a catalyst for the target.”

He clicked a slide, showing the teams of the World Cup. “This year is the first time since 1970 that Israel has qualified. Because of it, the prime minister of Israel is visiting the team, showing his support. Remember that the voice cut indicated Israeli interests?”

President Warren nodded and said, “I see where you’re going.”

Kurt clicked to the next slide. “The prime minister of Israel is meeting the Brazilian president along with our vice president two days from now. With the address on the DHL ticket being the capital, Brasília, we believe that’s the target.”

Bruce Tupper let out a bitter chuckle. “Snowden just keeps on giving.”

The secretary of defense said, “What’s he have to do with this?”

Billings said, “The president of Brazil went spastic six or eight months ago when our surveillance operations inside the country were leaked. We’re trying to rebuild relations, but the vice president isn’t the man to discuss this issue. It’s way, way over his head. He had to pay a courtesy visit, but we didn’t want it to be alone, one-on-one. In order to keep the discussion on the weather or something else innocuous, we invited the Israeli prime minister to attend.”

Palmer said, “Can we call it off?”

Kurt said, “Sure, but calling off the meeting isn’t going to call off the attack. Chiclet will just look for a new target.”

President Warren said, “Okay, okay, get Chiclet’s information out there. Let the Brazilians know there’s a threat on the loose and it may be directed at a World Cup venue but more likely at the seat of government. Get them on the ball.”

Bruce Tupper said, “And how do we know this?”

President Warren smiled, “Tell them it was an NSA intercept.”

Everyone politely chuckled and Alexander Palmer said, “Sir, I’d recommend sending in NEST as well.”

“Yeah, right. Of course. Palmer, you got the ball with the department of energy.”

Palmer nodded and said, “Kerry, I need you to talk to the CIA liaison in Brazil. Let ’em know our nuclear emergency support team is coming to the capital, and they’re going to have sensitive equipment that needs to get through customs discreetly.”

Kerry said, “Easy day. Kurt, what’s your recommendation for the Taskforce?”

“Have them investigate this address. See what they can find.”

Tupper said, “They’re in Germany. Isn’t this time sensitive? Can’t we use something on the address besides this illegal Taskforce operation?”

Kurt said, “Retro’s stabilized in Landstuhl, so I broke Brett free. He met the team in Berlin with the Gulfstream IV. They’re halfway across the Atlantic now.”

Tupper blew up. “Are you fucking kidding? What happened to oversight? Who gave you permission?”

Kurt said, “Sir, I had to get them out of Germany anyway. My recommendation is to get them into Brazil, but if you guys say no, then they’ll simply fly home.”

Tupper looked at President Warren and said, “I emphatically vote no.” He raised a hand and theatrically began ticking off fingers. “One, they have no cover for action in Brazil. No way to explain what a supposed archaeological firm is doing with a bunch of Israelis who have nothing to do with them. Two, they’ve shown a willingness to disobey our instructions, and giving them permission to continue is tantamount to condoning their past actions. And three, they’ve had a hostile penetration of their organization and we don’t even know how. For all we know, everything they do will be exposed by the Russians. They’re a walking time bomb of compromise.”

President Warren said, “Kurt, what about that?”

Kurt said, “Pike’s team has all the information on Chiclet. There are a bunch of intangibles that he can connect intuitively. Sending someone new to start now isn’t the same. You can’t manhunt by committee. Something will get missed. As far as compromise goes, the Israelis will help rather than hurt. If it blows up, we can always throw them to the wolves. Finally, I’m running this one personally. Everyone else is firewalled. No support teams, no logistics, no other involvement besides the men in this room.”

The secretary of defense said, “You guys are stomping on the ants and missing the elephant.”

Tupper said, “You call exposing an intelligence organization operating outside the laws of the United States an ant?”

“Yeah. When you compare it to the death and panic of a dirty bomb going off.
That’s
the fucking elephant.”