Split second, p.24
Split Second, page 24
All three assumed the positions they had taken earlier, with Blake and Jenna on the edge of the bed and Walsh seated in the desk chair.
Blake answered the call, and confirmed that it was, indeed, Lee Cargill on the other end. Unlike Knight, the man was broadcasting video from the very start. He was seated at a desk in an office that looked like a high-tech nerve center from which a military or business chieftain could conduct far-flung operations. Cargill appeared to be in his early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, brown eyes, and a world-weary face.
Blake introduced himself and informed Cargill that Jenna Morrison was also on the call.
“Can I assume Dr. Walsh is still with you as well?”
Blake thought about this, but saw no point in denying what had to be obvious to the man. “Yes.”
“I have to say you’ve been most impressive, Mr. Blake. And I don’t impress easily.”
“Good to know,” replied Blake dismissively. “But this isn’t a social call. You have Greg Soyer,” he said, his tone now ominous. “I want him back. Immediately! If not, I make sure Nathan Wexler’s discovery goes viral.”
Cargill let out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he said. “You can have him. He’s unhurt.”
His speed of capitulation made Blake certain that the man had expected this demand.
“But first let me tell you what this is all about,” added Cargill. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I don’t blame you for not trusting me, but let me explain what’s really going on.”
Jenna’s expression turned feral. “Was it you who ordered your men to kidnap me and Nathan from our home?” she spat. “Were those your men in the Hostess truck?”
“Yes,” said Cargill. “But let me explain.”
“Let you explain what?” she screamed. “That one of your men shot Nathan in the face at point-blank range? Is that what you need to explain? Are you going to tell me I imagined it all? Because I was there. I saw it happen!”
Cargill’s face fell. “Everyone on that exfil team was killed,” he said despondently. “I didn’t know for sure until just now that this is what happened in that truck, although I have to admit I suspected it. And this is on me. I know that. I was in charge of making sure you were both brought in safely, so his death is my responsibility.”
“His death isn’t your responsibility because you were in charge of safety!” screamed Jenna. “It’s your responsibility because your man killed him!”
“This is far bigger than you know. Let me start at the beginning, and then—”
“No!” barked Blake. “No stories. No long conversations. I don’t care what you have to say. I want Greg Soyer.”
“But once I tell you what’s going on, you’ll see things differently. And I need you to come in so I can protect you. You’re in great danger.”
“No shit!” said Blake. “We’re in great danger from you.”
“Not from me. From a man named Edgar Knight.”
Blake arched one eyebrow. “Yes,” he said. “We’ve had the pleasure of speaking. How do you think I know you have Greg?”
“Shit!” said Cargill, shaking his head. “Tell me you didn’t give him Dr. Wexler’s file.”
“I don’t have to tell you squat,” said Blake derisively.
“Look, given what I know about you and your prior actions, I have to assume you were prudent enough not to give this up right away. Which means Knight is moving Heaven and Earth to find you, so he can get it. You can’t trust him, although I’m sure he said the same thing about me. But let me tell my version of the truth—which is the actual truth—and you can decide for yourself.”
“After I have Greg Soyer.”
“But I’m the only one who can give you adequate protection.”
“Look,” said Blake, “I don’t know who to trust, and I’m not in the mood for another lengthy conversation about forty-five microseconds of time travel. But once I have my friend back, I’ll humor you. You can give us a call and delight us with your storytelling abilities, okay?”
Cargill shook his head in obvious frustration. “You’re making a mistake not listening to what I have to say. And you’re putting far more at risk than just yourself.”
“I’m willing to take that chance,” said Blake.
Cargill sighed. “It looks like I don’t have any other choice,” he said in resignation. “So you win. Looks like we’re going to play it your way.”
42
Brian Hamilton sat alone in a booth at the Colorado Springs Outback Steakhouse and sliced off a small piece of the twenty-ounce prime rib he had ordered, intending to savor every last piece. He brought the fork to his mouth, already salivating from the aroma. As the flavor washed over his taste buds his phone buzzed, indicating he had a secure text coming in, from none other than Lee Cargill himself.
He glanced around the room, out of habit, to ensure there were no prying eyes, but this was unnecessary as he was in a booth with his back against a wall.
He shoved another piece of steak into his mouth and began reading:
This message is for members of the Q5 Inner Circle only. We have recently come to learn the whereabouts of Jenna Morrison and Aaron Blake. You are familiar with Jenna Morrison and why she is important, but I’ve been purposely keeping you out of the loop, so Aaron Blake is a name you haven’t heard.
Blake is an ex-Army Ranger she recruited, and from our experience, elite even among this elite group. He has also proven himself highly capable, creative, and quite competent at the art of deception. While we think recovering these two will now be routine, we’ve made this mistake before. When we first tried to bring in Jenna Morrison and Nathan Wexler, we were also confident it would be a cake walk. Until we ended up losing over a dozen men, including five from the Inner Circle.
For this reason, even though acquiring these two targets should require very little manpower, I want all eight of you to join me and Joe Allen on this op.
Along with Morrison and Blake, a scientist named Dan Walsh is with them at a motel, at an address and room number provided at the end of this message. Joe Allen and I are flying to Cheyenne Mountain now, since we know all of you are in the vicinity. Two hours from when I send this, at eight tonight, we will all meet at runway three, where an aircraft will be gassed up and ready to go. I’ll provide an extensive mission briefing while we’re en-route to their motel.
I need to tell you we suspect we have a mole in the organization. We don’t think it is one of the eight of you, but we can’t rule this out. This is one reason we’re taking all of you along, because if one of you do decide to cause trouble, he will be hopelessly outnumbered. For this reason, I must ask you to keep your eyes open and watch each other. And Joe and I will be doing nothing but watching all of you during the mission.
I hate to do this, since nothing impairs a mission more than not being able to trust every one of your teammates with your lives, but I have no choice. Again, I can’t imagine the mole, if he exists among you, would dare reveal himself given this warning and the numbers involved, but understand that this is still a possibility.
That was everything. Beneath this was Lee Cargill’s electronic signature, and below this the address of the motel at which their targets were staying.
Hamilton shook his head in wonder. Perfect!
He forwarded the message to Edgar Knight’s highest priority address, one he had never used before, and one whose misuse was not taken lightly, since Knight’s PDA would wake him from the dead if it ever received a message on this channel. If Knight later decided the importance of a message didn’t warrant this pulling of a fire alarm, heads would roll, or in this case one head: his.
But Hamilton knew that Knight would not consider this a false alarm.
He would consider it one of the most important messages he had ever received.
* * *
Hamilton finished his meal in total contentment. He had plenty of time to reach the rendezvous point at Cheyenne mountain while Cargill was flying in. He finished his last bite, smacking his lips in satisfaction, and then leisurely ordered and finished a large wedge of cheesecake.
Finally satiated, he left his pretty young waitress a big tip and drove back to the Colorado Springs Hilton, where he had chosen to stay while awaiting the assignment of permanent quarters inside the mountain.
He was resting in his room, thirty minutes before he planned to leave for the base, when his cell phone indicated he had received another priority message from Cargill. He quickly pulled it up and began to read.
To members of the Q5 Inner Circle. Belay my last orders. I had negotiated a handoff with Aaron Blake, which you would have been briefed on, but it turns out this was yet another test, another deception. I mentioned Blake was slippery, and careful. It turns out that he isn’t at the motel he said he was, and now has insisted on a new rendezvous point and set of procedures.
Given these changes, and given his painstaking caution, I’ve decided not to take any chances. For this reason, Joe Allen and I will be handling this by ourselves, after all.
Apologies for the change of plans. I will be contacting you soon to give you details about your new quarters and assignments.
Lee Cargill.
“God-dammit!” thundered Hamilton in disgust. So much for getting lucky.
He quickly forwarded this message to Edgar Knight using his highest priority channel once again. His boss would know these events were out of his control, and that he had proceeded precisely as he should have, but he would not be happy.
43
As he watched Greg Soyer exit the small commercial helicopter in the waning light of sunset, Aaron Blake felt a crushing weight lifting from his throat. He had been suffocating since his friend was taken, and finally felt as if he could breathe freely again.
Soyer looked unharmed and in good spirits, as advertised.
Blake had sent Cargill’s pilot to two other locations, changing the drop-off point to the Torrey Pines helipad at the last moment, ensuring they couldn’t set up a team on the ground to keep tabs on him. He also had a clear strategy for getting out from under satellite surveillance once he picked up Soyer.
Jenna and Walsh were safely back at the Best Border Inn in San Ysidro, waiting for him to lose any surveillance and return for them.
Jenna had suggested the Torrey Pines helipad for the handoff since it was in an area considered part of La Jolla, where she lived, and she knew it well.
The area was heavily wooded with its namesake tree, the Torrey pine, which basically only grew on this narrow strip of coastline, making it the rarest species of pine in the US. In addition, the Torrey Pines area was home to a prestigious hospital and a thriving biotech community, a spectacular golf course situated along cliffs overlooking the Pacific, and a two-thousand-acre natural reserve, with eight miles of trails.
The helipad was surrounded by the location’s namesake pine, which provided both shade and isolation, but was also near a frequently traveled street. The air was fresh and cool, and Blake’s surroundings were tranquil and beautiful, but he was focused only on his friend and the small helicopter.
As Soyer moved quickly away from the helo, heading due north as Blake had instructed, the helicopter rose into the air and flew off toward the east. Blake watched it carefully until it was out of sight.
Not that he had any real concern Cargill would make a play for him. He had made sure the man knew he had separated from his two companions, so that if anything happened to him they could still release Nathan’s work, the very threat that had secured Soyer’s release in the first place.
Blake was sitting in the driver’s seat of a rusted yellow Chevy Impala, the second car he had purchased that day, parallel parked on the street between a Mercedes convertible and a Lexus sedan. When Soyer was within twenty yards of him he exited the vehicle and waved him over. His friend quickly closed the distance between them and they exchanged a heartfelt bear hug.
“I am so sorry I got you into this,” said Blake.
“Don’t be,” said Soyer. “You did warn me what might happen.”
This did little to assuage Blake’s guilt, but he needed to move on. “Are you bugged?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. But knowing you, you’re prepared to check.”
Blake grinned. “You know me too well, Greg,” he said, removing the same bug detector he had used to clear Dan Walsh. Within a minute, he had cleared his friend as well.
They both got into the car and shut the doors, but Blake didn’t start the engine. “So what happened after you were captured?” he asked. “Did Cargill tell you anything about what’s going on? Was he able to crack the flash drive?”
Blake also wondered if Cargill had used torture, or had threatened such, in order to get Soyer to reveal the password, but decided Cargill was too smart for this tactic. For all Cargill knew, Soyer had set up a password that would initiate an immediate self-destruct, so any password that was coerced out of him could blow up in Cargill’s face. Better to crack it on his own.
“Before I tell you what happened,” said Soyer, “can I assume we’ll be reunited with your friend soon? You know,” he said in amusement, “Jane Smith.”
“Not immediately,” replied Blake, “but soon enough. I have all kinds of fun planned to be sure we shake any human or electronic eyes on us before I go anywhere near her.”
“Where is she?”
“At the Best Border Inn in San Ysidro. Nothing but the best for my clients.”
“Yeah, I noticed the word best in the name of the inn.”
“And for good reason,” said Blake with a grin. “It’s the finest one-star motel money can buy.”
Blake started the car to begin taking his pre-planned counter-surveillance measures. He was wedged in between the two luxury cars surrounding him with only inches to spare on either end.
The car was so old it didn’t even have a rear-view camera, so he studied his mirrors to begin to extricate himself from the spot, as optimistic as he had been since this whole affair had begun. Maybe things were finally turning in their favor. Knight had made a gracious offer for them to align with him, and to protect them from Cargill. His friend was safe and unhurt. And they now had leverage that had proven its value.
Blake continued to bask in positive thoughts, right up until he heard a loud spitting sound and felt a dagger in his gut at the same instant.
He clutched at his stomach, but instead of finding a gaping hole, he found a tranquilizer dart imbedded there.
He had just enough time to glance up to see Greg Soyer with a gun in his hand.
In a rush, he realized what had happened. He had been shot at point-blank range by a man he considered to be his closest friend.
He had no time to consider this betrayal further as the drug hit his bloodstream and he slumped over against the steering wheel, unconscious.
PART 3
Pandora’s Box
“I myself believe that there will one day be time travel because when we find that something isn't forbidden by the over-arching laws of physics, we usually eventually find a technological way of doing it.”
—David Deutsch (Oxford Physicist who laid the foundations for quantum computing)
“Technology . . . is a queer thing. It brings you great gifts with one hand, and it stabs you in the back with the other.”
—Carrie Snow
“Beam me up, Scotty. There is no intelligent life on this planet.”
—Unknown (often printed on T-shirts)
44
Blake awoke, having no idea how long he had been out. He was unbound and found himself in a room the size of a small classroom, with several conspicuous cameras pointing at him from above. Jenna Morrison and Dan Walsh were lying on the floor beside him, unconscious, but apparently unharmed. Jenna had cleaned the eyeshadow from her face after he had left the motel, and whoever had deposited her here had done her the favor of leaving the hideous blonde wig behind.
His memories returned and he pieced together what had happened. Soyer had shot him with a dart and he had been taken here—wherever here was. He had told Soyer where Jenna and Dan were staying, which explained how they had been gathered up, surely a simple exercise without him there to protect them.
Had Soyer been working with Cargill all along?
It seemed impossible.
But then so did so many other things he had learned of recently. His definition of the word impossible was certainly getting a work out.
He looked down and saw a page of unruled printer paper affixed to his chest by a piece of clear tape, with a message neatly scrawled on it in blue ink.
Touché, he thought. Apparently, one low-tech, hand-written message deserved another. He began to read:
To: Aaron Blake
From: Lee Cargill
Since you are reading this, you have no doubt recently awakened. We expect you to be the first, but we tried to time things so your friends will also awaken fairly soon. We gave you enough of a dose that you would sleep through the night, so it is now Wednesday morning.
Given that you are unbound in an innocent-looking room, you might be tempted to escape, but let me discourage you from such an attempt. You’ve no doubt noticed the cameras. The door is locked and there are men as highly trained as you guarding it.
In case this isn’t enough of a discouragement, you should know that you are now in perhaps the most secure military facility in the US, Cheyenne Mountain. If you aren’t familiar with this base, and haven’t seen it in any movies, it is a tiny city carved out of a granite mountain in Colorado Springs. Trust me, as formidable as you are, you have no chance of escape.
Sorry about having to proceed in this way, but you refused to let me explain things over the phone, so I felt I had no other choice. As soon as your friends are awake, though, I promise to bring you all up to speed and answer your questions.
