Reid's Deliverance (6 page)

“No.”

The lights brightened. Tension trickled from Reid’s back.

“Because like I said, division only hurts us.” Dalir’s gaze faded to gray. “You’re angry and second-guessing what you shouldn’t. You need to remember that you answer to me. I decide what you will and will not do. I choose where you will and will not go. Not the other way around. The guys need you, but I won’t let you poison them with your attitude. You’re all grounded from missions for the next month. You need to go somewhere. Get drunk. Get laid. Do whatever the hell you need to do to come back and lead my team.” The ancient shimmered and disappeared.

Thane had let his personal life get in the way of the job. Dalir’s intel had suddenly become unreliable. Their last mission had gotten screwed and now he’s the asshole? How did that happen? Forced vacation. Fine. No problem. He was done. As Reid shoved open the door to the club, an unseasonably cold wind blew over him. Late afternoon Florida sun glimmered off the large glass picture frame holding their poster. He did a double take as the picture morphed into their new reality. The band minus Thane.

* * * *

Reid walked into the beach house. Silence. Relief flooded in. He went to the upstairs living room. West owned the place along with everything else, but no one had a permanent claim on it. They used it as needed. Two weeks of waiting to get off Dalir’s shit list and into the next mission was grating on his nerves. Time at the piano and hanging out on the beach would help.

He launched into one of his grandfather’s favorite pieces, by Rachmaninoff. Quiet chords moved back and forth, creating a melody similar to a lullaby. He could phase anywhere in the world. Do anything he wanted. Why was he still there? Back in the day, he and the team had gotten off on changing the scenery. Coffee in Paris. Surfing on the Gold Coast. Skiing in Argentina. Gambling in Monte Carlo. Finding a random hookup in Ibiza. All before sunset. When had it changed? That day in Switzerland or in New York…or was it London? He’d sat in the lobby of the hotel watching people at the checkout desk. They were returning to their normal, familiar lives while he faced starting from scratch.

Sure, West maintaining the essentials made the transition easier. Still, when they got back, having to constantly explain the same basic crap over and over again to people killed. This time around, he’d forgotten the barber no longer knew how he liked his hair faded. The friendly barista at the corner spot hadn’t automatically added the extra shot of expresso as she’d done before he’d left. His neighbor was back to hounding him about buying a garage full of shit he’d told them more times than he could count he wasn’t interested in. He couldn’t lose his cool over the inconvenience. The guy didn’t remember the conversations.

He transitioned into the next movement, lush, romantic. Lauren’s image floated in. The guys razzed him about not dating. He didn’t even hang onto a woman guaranteed to let him back in, no questions asked, for recreational sex. His fingers flew over the keys, building the concerto into a passionate melody. Thane rarely double-dipped with the same woman either, and if he did, it was for a quick visit. Nothing serious. Thane couldn’t believe he was in love, but that explained why he was so off at the start of the mission. They’d talked about Celine. Thane was going to drop her and move on. If Thane had a different take on it, why hadn’t he told him? Yeah, he would have tried to change his mind, but after all they’d gone through…
Fuck.
Now who wasn’t letting shit go? He sounded like a jilted girlfriend.

The front door opened. Heavy footfalls coming up the stairs ended with West stalking into the room. “We need to talk.”

“About?” Reid kept playing, reluctant to break from the music high.

West leaned against the back of the couch and crossed his arms. “When Colby phased into the future to recon intel for the last mission, he cultivated info from Speaks, one of my informants. He believes every conspiracy that pops up, but he’s a damn good hacker, now and in the future. What he gave Colby didn’t have anything to do with Xenia or Red Path Anarchy, so I shelved it.”

Reid ended the song. “But now you’ve taken a look.”

“I have.” As West exhaled, his frown deepened. “Back when we were in Regimental Recon, do you remember when all that chatter popped up about the Pentagon’s interest in technology that would increase our physical capabilities? Then later on all those rumors about command putting together a unit for a classified experiment?”

“You mean the cyborg unit?” A cross branch project of SEALs, Rangers, and other special ops areas. The assignment had sounded tempting at the time. Extra pay, a chance to spend a few months playing with newer and deadlier toys.

West slipped papers out his back pocket and handed them to Reid. “It went through a year ago. A company called Greenhill Technologies has the contract. The top sheet, that’s what they’ve created. Body armor with a mechanical skeleton integrated into the fabric. An onboard computer adjusts the skeletal frame to enhance strength and endurance. It even monitors metabolic function. The headgear has a threat identification system to increase situational awareness. That’s only a part of what it can do.”

Reid flipped to the second page of eight names. “What’s this?”

“Some of the operatives selected for a special assignment called Project Samson. Do you recognize any of them?”

“Hurley, Moore, they’re Rangers.” Reid scanned through the rest of the names. “Hayes, Fordham, Fuentes, aren’t they Navy SEALs? Where are they? Did something happen?”

“Not yet.” West’s expression clued Reid in on the bad news before he finished. “They’re going to die in the future in Yuma, Arizona.”

“Damn.” Reid breathed out. Sadness shifted to resignation. Every guy on the list had known the risks of being an operative. They’d willingly taken an oath to do what they believed in. “How?”

“Plane crash during a demonstration. That’s the official word. Speaks claims they were already dead and the crash was used to cover it up.”

“And maybe it is. Come on, West.” Reid stood. “An accident could be a cover story for a classified mission gone wrong. It’s about protecting national security. You know the drill.”

West gripped the couch. “I still think one of us needs to phase into the future and look into this. Hurley and Moore were on team two. They saved us eight years ago when we were ambushed in Afghanistan.”

Knots tightened in Reid’s gut. That day in the valley, bullets flying, pinned down by insurgents. He still had nightmares about it.

“Hell, Reid, just send me.” West held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Take it to Dalir. I already tried, but he wouldn’t listen. He said we’re grounded. Period. I also know I’m logistics. It’s my job to keep things solid while the team is on assignment, but one of you can handle it until I get back.”

“I hear you, but Speaks is paranoid. Do you honestly think we can trust him on this?”

“He rarely leaves his mother’s basement and only eats canned food. So yeah, there’s a chance he’s full of shit, but he’s hacked into systems that would take me weeks to get into. The intel he’s provided in the past has been solid. This isn’t just about me wanting back in the field. I can’t ignore what my gut is telling me. A few months ago, a former project manager from Greenhill made claims to a reporter about falsified reports. He changed his story after he got his job back with a bonus. As crazy as it is, I think Speaks is right.”

And West’s gut instincts were on target more often than not. “What’s your plan?”

“Thread the needle. I can create a dummy profile here that sets one of us up as a perfect candidate for Samson. We have to phase in at least two years six months before the accident. That also meets the parameters Thane laid out about not jumping in on his timeline with Celine. In the future, with the right buzzwords, Speaks will get on board. His hacking skills can solidify the cover and get us into the program.”

Reid walked to the sliding glass door overlooking the pool. Their last roll call would have been at Arlington Cemetery if Hurley and Moore’s team hadn’t backed them up. They were alive because of them. If Project Samson was part of some fucked up plan, they had to act.
Leave no man behind.
They lived by that creed. Sitting on their asses was like leaving Hurley and Moore behind to die. If Dalir wouldn’t spare time for West, he damn sure wasn’t going to listen to him. Once the Ancient was pissed and made up his mind on something, he was immovable.

“All right. Let’s take a look.”

West stepped forward. “Who are you tapping for this?”

“No one.” Reid met West’s gaze. “I’m taking it.”

The future

“Colonel Shea, thank you for joining us.” Frank Dent, the project manager for Greenhill, shook hands with the army officer. Morning sun gleamed off Dent’s bald spot. As usual, the rest of the short, husky man’s brown hair hadn’t seen a comb. Next to Shea’s starched, desert-camouflaged BDUs, Dent’s gray, ill-fitting suit resembled a sack. “I’d like to introduce you to the soldier who’ll perform our first demonstration today—Staff Sergeant Reid Montgomery.”

Reid stood at attention on the edge of the urban warfare obstacle course and gave an efficient salute. Readapting to name, rank, and serial number had come easily. So had implementing West’s plan. Speaks had inserted him into the program without a problem. The specialized unit of twelve tested prototypes of the Samson body armor and weapons under various conditions.

After nearly three weeks, he hadn’t unearthed anything remotely suspicious about the testing or procedures. So far, everyone remained alive.

The light haired colonel’s sharp gaze assessed him. The army officer’s stern expression cracked with a moment of approval. Reid imagined what was going through Shea’s mind. The form-fitted, head-to-toe body armor gave the impression of combat ready and ultimate badass.

Shea jerked his head toward the observation booth near a patch of pine trees. “Let’s get this dog and pony show on the road.”

Teri, a lab tech, checked over Reid’s armored suit. When he’d first met the pretty blonde, she’d reminded him of Lauren. Smart, a sense of humor, but with a major difference. She lacked fiery passion in her eyes.

She smiled. “All set. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Reid put on his headgear and shooting gloves as he walked to the tree line. A mock setup of an urban street in the Middle East spread out in front of him.

He cued his headset. “Mic check. Tower, this is Game Show. Do you read me?”

“Game Show, this is Tower. We read you loud and clear. Hurley said to tell you some of the guys are talking trash about Army. They said you’re going to tank.”

Reid flexed his fingers. He’d volunteered for the exercise to get a closer look at the equipment, but a little harmless cross branch rivalry wouldn’t get in the way. As the new guy, it would help bond him with the members of the unit. “What’s the fastest time on the course?”

“Five minutes eight seconds. How much you plan on beating it by?”

“A lot.”

“There’s a case of beer and a barbecue riding on this one, so kick some ass and do us proud.”

Reid chuckled. “Wilco, Tower.” He flipped down his visor and focused on the course. The objective, get to the other side. Human-sized targets depicting bad guys and friendlies would pop up from walls and buildings. Operators hidden on the course would fire live bullets and set off explosions in an attempt to distract him.

He crouched into ready position. “Waiting on your mark, Tower.”

“Roger, Game Show. On my mark in five, four, three, two…”

Reid rushed onto the testing field. Precise coordination and focus came together in a marriage of fluid movement. A human-sized target popped up. He took it out. The suit supplied extra power to his legs, and he scaled a low wall at full speed. The sensor in his helmet flagged a threat to his left. He shot it down, center mass. Mid-field, he snapped the head of a mannequin, and it lolled to the side in his wake. He didn’t phase through the buildings, but out of habit he calculated velocity, depth. The movement of the wind through the trees. Moving faster than the average human, he made his presence known by the sharp rapport of his automatic and the ping of bullets hitting targets.

Showboating wasn’t encouraged, but Reid couldn’t resist adding a little flair. Especially in the face of a bet he was about to win. He dropped under a barrage of bullets. As he rolled to his feet, he took out the final target with a head shot.

He returned to applause in the observation area. Fuentes, the Navy SEAL whose name was on West’s list, grinned. “Enjoy being on top for a hot minute. Just got the word—Navy is demoing next week. An admiral is coming in.” He slapped Reid on the back. “Sorry, bro. We’re about to make your course time obsolete.”

Reid froze a smile on his face but pleasure vanished. If Speaks didn’t have anything new to tell him, Fuentes might not get the chance.

* * * *

Reid phased into the afternoon rush of pedestrians. Most headed for the underground subway entrance. A woman shot him an impatient look for blocking her way. No second glance for appearing out of nowhere or the golden glow surrounding him.
Welcome to New York.
Phasing years ahead didn’t cause the same energy surge. It pissed him off how a short phase from Arizona to New York lit him up like a light stick.

Sun warmed the humidity and a haze of smog. He started to sweat underneath his dark camouflage pants and black T-shirt, the standard-issue uniform, along with black boots, for test subjects in Project Samson. Reid entered Madison Square Park. Dog walkers and joggers weaved around him. Only a couple more weeks until the accident. Speaks had better show up with something other than wild speculations.

Up ahead, a skinny man dressed in a pair of Keds sneakers, an extra-long parka, ski gloves, and a red knit cap paced in front of the Southern Fountain.

“Make it quick, Speaks. I have to get back.”

“How many times have I told you not to say my name in public?” The hacker grimaced as if in pain. “Do you know what they’ll do to me? Are you sure you weren’t followed?”