The Shadow Protocol (54 page)

She saw his face twist with pain as he sat, putting pressure on the wound. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’ll live. Assuming we actually get out of this alive.” He flipped the remote around in his hand, thumbing open a panel in its base. “Okay, let’s see. Ford, Ford …” He turned a small knurled wheel, then pushed it. A sliver of metal sprang out of the remote with a click. He slid it into the ignition slot and turned it. The Mustang’s five-liter V8 started up with a rumble that echoed through the garage. “All right!”

“That’s the happiest I’ve seen you since we ran out of that pub,” Bianca said, almost teasing.

“Apparently I like my wheels. You ready?” She nodded, and he pulled out of the space, turning back toward the ramp. He accelerated up it, the exhaust note booming in his wake.

“There!” said Morgan, pointing at the screens. A dark shape emerged from the bowels of the office building the drone was observing. “Someone’s leaving. Kyle, follow it.”

“We don’t have his tracker,” said Kyle. “It could just be some dude going home early.”

“He went in there to
disable
the tracker. We can’t risk losing them.” He glanced at the map. Baxter and his men had been released, the three STS Suburbans now racing
with the police vehicles toward Adam’s last known location—but they were still two blocks distant.

“It could be a decoy,” Tony cautioned. “They might be splitting up.”

Morgan shook his head. “Adam somehow persuaded Dr. Childs to help him do this, even though she must have known the consequences. They’ll stick together.” He looked back at the view from the UAV’s camera. “Kyle, why isn’t the auto-tracking on that car yet? And zoom in closer—we can’t even tell the model from this height!”

“There’s, uh, some sort of glitch in the system,” Kyle replied unconvincingly. “I can’t get a lock on it—uh-oh.” The image rocked as the drone slewed around. The black car swept off the edge of the screen. “Must be turbulence or something! A jet stream, maybe.”

“Over Washington?” spluttered Kiddrick.

“Air’s a weird thing, brah.” He waggled the controls, putting the UAV into a spin.

“I see we
do
need some more security guys in here,” growled Morgan. “Hamilton, take over from him. Kyle—”

“I know, I know,” said Kyle, standing. “I’m busted.”

“Just stand over there and wait for the SPOs. Hamilton! Where’s that car?”

Kyle’s replacement took over the controls, stabilizing the drone. The office building came back into view—but there was no sign of the target vehicle. “I can’t see it, sir.”

“Search wider. We’ve
got
to find it.”

“I don’t even know which way it was heading, sir. It could have gone in any direction from the nearest intersection.”

“We can’t exactly tell Metro to put out an APB on ‘a black car,’ ” said Tony. The camera panned across another block—revealing at least half a dozen vehicles that would fit the description.

Morgan simmered, glaring at the wall screens. “Okay. Tell them to search that building, just in case they’re still inside. It’s a long shot, but we have to check. Then get MPD to set up roadblocks—ten-block radius.”

Tony looked at the capital’s expansive grid on the map. “That’s a hell of a lot of streets. They’ll never be able to close them all off.”

“We have to try, damn it!” He turned and glared at Kyle, who was being escorted away by a pair of guards. “Wait, don’t take him to holding. Take him to my office. And bring Voss and James, too. I want to know what the hell’s going on here. Tony, come with me.” He started toward an exit, then stopped as he realized the Bullpen’s staff were staring at him in confusion. “Well? You’ve got your orders—get on with them! Find that car! Find Adam Gray!”

“Put your head down,” said Adam as he saw a police car approaching from the other direction. “They’re looking for two people, not one.”

Bianca squirmed lower in her seat, dropping below the window line. The MPD cruiser drew closer, the driver’s eyes flicking toward the Mustang—then it passed. Adam checked the mirror. The cops disappeared into the distance. “Okay, they’re gone. They’re not looking for this car.”

She cautiously lifted her head. “What now?”

“Go somewhere quiet, then use the PERSONA to see what’s on that disk.” He glanced at the bag in her lap. “Find out what was in my mind.”

He looked ahead. An alley led between some run-down commercial buildings. He slowed and turned into it. “The neighborhood’s a bit grotty,” said Bianca.

“We’re not going to get carjacked by drug dealers in broad daylight.” He slowed the Mustang. “This should do.”

It was a brick structure with a small loading dock set into its rear, real estate signs proclaiming that the property was available to rent. The windows were boarded up. Adam turned the car into the space and stopped. They were completely hidden from the main street; anyone looking for them would have to come down the alley to find them.

If someone
did
do that, the Mustang would be blocked in by their vehicle. But it was a chance he had to take.

He twisted to get the cases from the backseat—and let out a grunt of pain. “Stay still, I’ll do that,” Bianca told him. “Let me see.” He reluctantly shifted position. “Oh God. You’re still bleeding—it’s all over your back!” A blotchy dark patch had swollen outward from the wound, soaking his clothing.

“It’ll look worse than it is,” he said, trying to reassure her—and himself. “It’s just spread because I’ve been pressed against the seat.”

“Are you sure? How do you feel?”

“I’m feeling … that I wish I’d used anesthetic. But I’m okay. Really.” He managed a small, strained smile. “Get the PERSONA set up.”

It was awkward doing so in the confines of the coupe, but after a few minutes Bianca had connected both units of the PERSONA device and switched them on. Despite its rough treatment since leaving the STS building, the system appeared to be in working order. She took out the memory module. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Adam finished donning the skullcap. “I don’t know if I’m going to like what I find out. But I’ve
got
to find out.” He faced her. “Is this on okay?”

She reached up to adjust the electrodes. “There. You’re good.” Her hand stayed against his skin for an extra moment as she regarded him with concern. “What are you going to do if it really is something bad?”

“I don’t know,” he said in a quiet voice. Then, more firmly: “Give me the shot and start the transfer. Let’s get this over with. However it turns out.”

“Okay.” She took the jet injector from the medical case. “Are you ready?”

“Do it.”

“Good luck.” She positioned the nozzle against his neck and pulled the trigger, then watched the now unsettlingly familiar sight of all expression fading from his face. Thirty seconds passed. “I’m going to start the transfer,”
she whispered. Adam’s only response was a slight nod.

She touched the controls. The PERSONA’s screen came to life, beginning to feed the recorded memories back into their owner’s mind.

Morgan’s mood had not improved by the time he reached his office.

“Right,” he said, glowering at the three young specialists lined up before his desk. “I want answers, and I want them now. All three of you were working to help Adam get away. Why?”

Holly Jo, Levon, and Kyle exchanged unhappy looks, none wanting to be the first to speak. “Let me spell it out for you,” Morgan continued. “You deliberately impeded an operation to capture a rogue agent who had stolen highly classified information—
and
assaulted a senior STS official in the process, in case you’d forgotten. That means you can be charged under the Espionage Act! We’re talking a good thirty years in federal prison here—assuming you aren’t all packed off to Guantánamo. So this is your last chance. Why did you help Adam?”

Tony spoke before any of them could answer. “Because I told them to.”

It took Morgan a moment to fully process what he had heard. When he did, his tone was calmer, yet more dangerous than ever. “Would you care to explain that?”

“I
ordered
”—Tony placed emphasis on the word—“them to help Adam evade capture. They were acting under my instructions as their superior, so the responsibility for everything they did is mine.”

“Very noble of you,” said Morgan. He looked at the trio. “And would you all back up that statement?”

“Yeah, totally,” Kyle gabbled. “I mean, it’s
Tony
—he’s our boss, we all trust him, and we do what he says, right?”

He took in the disapproving expressions of his companions. “What?”

“He’s right,” said Tony, before Holly Jo or Levon could add anything. “They were following my orders.”

“While disobeying mine,” Morgan replied. He regarded Tony in silence for several tense seconds. “All right, if that’s how you want to play it … You three,” he snapped, turning back to the specialists. “You’re all relieved of duty pending further investigation. Report to the security office and turn in your IDs, then get out of my agency. I’ll deal with you later.”

They mumbled shamed affirmations, then left the room. “You asshole,” Holly Jo hissed at Kyle.

“What?” he protested. “That’s what Tony wanted!”

Morgan waited for the door to close behind them. “So, what
do
you want, Tony? Why have you decided to risk your career—your freedom—for Adam?”

“Because he deserves to know the truth about himself,” Tony answered.

“But you don’t know what that truth is.”

“Do you?”

“No,” Morgan admitted. “But the admiral vouched for him as an ideal candidate to replace you—and whatever the reasons Adam had for wanting to forget his past, he
asked
to forget it.”

“But he’s changed his mind. Now he wants to remember—or at least to find out
why
he wanted to forget. He wants to learn who he really is, and what we took away from him. I think he has a right to know.”

“You don’t have the authority to give him that information,” Morgan said sternly. “And neither do I, for that matter.”

“You’re saying it’s entirely Harper’s call?”

“It is.”

“You can’t tell me you agree with that.”

“Whether I do or not is irrelevant. And for God’s sake, Tony, even if I sympathize with Adam’s motives, he’s gone about this in the wrong way. He assaulted Kiddrick, stole classified data, sabotaged a government facility, and wreaked havoc in the capital! You know we can’t tolerate that. And I can’t tolerate insubordination.”

Tony took a deep breath, then nodded. “I understand. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. For now, you can wait in holding until I figure that out.” The phone on his desk rang. “Yes?” He listened, expression hardening. “Right.” He put it down and regarded Tony grimly. “Speak of the devil. Harper is here.”

The director of national intelligence was in Morgan’s office barely a minute later. “I want to know what in the name of the good Christ is going on,” he snarled. “How the hell did Gray get away?”

“I helped him,” Tony said.

Harper seemed about to explode.
“What?”

“Tony just admitted to me that he was passing information to Adam that allowed him to evade capture,” explained Morgan—the truth, but not in its entirety. Tony gave him a brief look of gratitude on behalf of his three co-conspirators. “I put him under arrest just before you arrived.”

Harper stared angrily at Tony. “Then why is he still here and not in a cell?”

Morgan picked up the phone. “Get security to my office,” he ordered.

The white-haired man marched up to Tony, almost nose-to-nose with him. “What the
fuck
are you playing at, Carpenter?”

Tony didn’t blink. “Why is it so important that Adam doesn’t remember his past, Admiral?”

Harper’s fury rose at being challenged. “That’s not your goddamn concern!”

“My concern is the people under my command—and Adam is one of them.”

“And my concern is the security of the United States! By taking that disk, Gray is a direct threat to that security. If it gets into the wrong hands—”

“It’s in
Adam’s
hands,” Tony cut in, raising Harper’s ire still higher. “They’re his own memories! How can finding out about his past be a threat to national security?”

Before Harper could reply, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Morgan barked. Two security officers entered. “Take Mr. Carpenter to holding and keep him there until further orders.”

“What did Adam know?” Tony demanded. “What’s on that disk, Admiral?”

“Get him out of my sight,” Harper growled.

“And what about Adam?” asked Tony as the two men ushered him to the door.

“We’ll catch him,” replied Morgan.

“And if he’s used the PERSONA to re-imprint his own memories?”

Harper said nothing—but the concern clearly visible even through his mask of anger was an answer in itself.

Bianca watched the rush of data on the PERSONA’s screen subside. She checked that the diagnostic readings were in order, then turned to Adam. “Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes. “Yeah. I think.”

“I’ll try to do a memory check. What’s your full name?”