Origin - Season One (6 page)

“Agent Banner?” the man said, offering him a grin composed of teeth that were both too white and too symmetrical.

“That’s me.”

“Bruce Jessops, White House liaison. Mary said you might be hiding in here.”

Mike stood up and straightened his jacket. He brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn and realized he hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m roughing it at the moment.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jessops said, holding up his hands. “This is some shit storm, hey? I still can’t quite believe it myself.”

“That makes two of us,” Mike said.

“Still, it’s not every day you get to be part of something this big, right?”

“I can’t say I’ve thought of it that way,” Mike said and pointed at the seat in front of his desk. “Take a pew.”

Jessops sat down. Mike offered to get him a cup of coffee.

“No, thanks. I never touch the stuff. Bad for the skin. I’d take a glass of guava juice though.”

“Yeah, I think we’re all out of that,” Mike said. “Water?”

“No, I’m good. Listen, I’m only here to run interference when the boys from Treasury show up.”

“Are you expecting trouble?” Mike said.

Jessops laughed. It was right on cue and hearty, but Mike thought it sounded practiced.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. “Did you say you were the White House
liaison
?”

“Sounds a lot grander than it is,” Jessops said. “I’m more of a glorified errand boy, really.”

“And you’re here to do what, exactly?”

“The boss isn’t happy about what’s going on. If it were up to him we’d still be dealing with this ourselves. That said, if we don’t have any choice in the matter, he wants to make sure the transition is as smooth as possible. I know these guys.”

“You mean you’re here to make sure I give them what they want.”

Jessops shook his head. “Of course not. Why wouldn’t you? Speaking of what they want, do you mind if I have a look?”

“Be my guest,” Mike said and handed Jessops the folder on his desk. “I doubt you’ll find it very interesting. If you’ll excuse me, I need to step out for a minute.”

Mike left and walked down the hall to the assistant director’s office. For once, she wasn’t on the phone. He walked in and closed the door behind him. She cut him off with a raised hand before he could say anything. “I know, I know. When he walked in here I almost burst out laughing. He looks like a twelve-year-old Al Capone.”

Mike, who didn’t feel remotely jovial, found himself laughing at the image.

“What do you want me to do, Mike? It’s a brave new world.”

As she said this, she glanced over at the picture of George W. Bush hanging on the wall by the window.

“He calls you Mary,” Mike said.

“Mike, I get it. Believe me. As soon as our friends from Treasury are gone, I’ll drive him to the airport myself. How about that?”

“And we’re just going to forget this ever happened, right?” Mike said.

“Yep. That’s exactly what we’ll do. Forget it ever happened and go back to chasing our own bad guys. Does that really sound so bad?”

“When you put it that way, I guess not.”

“Good. Then go back out there and play nice. I know Jane keeps a bag of marshmallows in one of her drawers. Perhaps he’d like one.”

When Mike got back to his office, Jessops was talking to someone on his cell phone with the folder open on the desk in front of him.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go,” Jessops said. “I’ll call you later.”

He put the phone down and closed the folder. “Tell me, Agent Banner, you think it was just one guy?”

“Unlikely,” Mike said.

Jessops stood and held out his hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you did a good job. I’ll make sure the director knows that.”

Mike had to stifle what would have been a sarcastic laugh. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

When Jessops was gone Mike closed the door and called Mitch in DC.

“Hey, Mitch, how’s it going?”

“That depends on what you mean. If you’re talking about my car, it’s hardly going at all.”

“Yeah, well I’m not talking about your car. Listen, we’re off the job.”

“The Fellowship of the Fed is breaking up already?”

“I’m afraid so. Have you finished your report?”

“Yeah, it’s right here in front of me. You know, I’ve been thinking –”

“I’m going to stop you there, Mitch. One, because I haven’t had a lot of sleep. But more importantly, I’m no longer the investigating officer on the case. Whatever you have, include it in the report. If someone else wants to pursue it, I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”

“Wow, you sound really pissed off,” Mitch said.

“Well, I’m not. Relieved, maybe. And grateful to be getting back to my day job.”

“All right, amigo. You’re the boss. I guess I’ll see you down here in about ten years then.”

“Don’t count on it. Actually, there is one thing you could do for me.”

“Shoot.”

Mike hesitated.

“I’m still listening,” Mitch said.

“Could you run an internal personnel check for me?” Mike said.

“Sure. Although as you surely know, you’re cleared to do that yourself.”

“I know. It’s just that –”

“You don’t want a record of it showing up on your system. Now you’re talking my language, Kemosabe. What’s the name?”

“It’s nothing like that. I –”

“Hey, say no more. Office politics, man. I get it.”

Mike lowered his voice. “The name’s Jessops. Apparently he’s the White House liaison, whatever the hell that means.”

“He’s there? In New York?”

“Just arrived, yeah.”

“I’m on it. I’ll call you back in an hour.”

Mitch called back fifteen minutes later. “Okay, I found him. Bruce Wayne Jessops. What did you want to know?”

“Bruce Wayne?”

“Yep, it appears we’ve found Batman. Born eleven March seventy-three in Sacramento, California. Joined the Bureau in ‘99. Mother deceased. Father is Jeffrey Wayne.”

“The senator?”

“Yep. Jessops was his mother’s maiden name. I’m guessing he took it to avoid the flak.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s everything in the record, yeah. You want me to dig deeper?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Lift a few stones? That kind of thing.”

“If you’re talking about breaking the law, then no, definitely not. In fact, forget I ever mentioned it. Just send the report through.”

“Solid copy. And if you need any more superheroes found, you know where I am, old buddy.”

Mike put the phone down and made his way back to the couch. He needed a twenty-minute power nap to clear his thoughts. He was asleep within two.

Skyline Defense
New York, New York
Monday 17 July 2006

1700 EDT

Carl Bosch looked up when Jack entered. “Christ, Jack. When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

“I’m fine. Probably caught something on the subway.”

“Well don’t give it to me; I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is. Some fucking hedge fund has decided to outbid us on the New Mexico site. Get Marius to find out who they are. If they want to play hardball, we’ll give them what they want. And tell him I still haven’t seen the profile on that guy in Omaha, what’s his name?”

“Kesler.”

“Yeah, him. Richelle has been chewing my ear off about it. If he’s good to go we need to get him down to Houston as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get Marius on it,” Jack said.

“Good.”

Jack turned to leave.

“Hey, maybe you should take a couple of days off,” Carl said.

“I’ll think about it.”

Jack’s phone began to ring. “I need to take this.”

“Just get me that profile.”

“I’m on it.”

It was Rollins. Jack let the phone ring until he was back in his office.

“Steve, what have you got?”

“Ever heard of a guy named Gerald Ross?”

“No. Who is he?”

“He’s a security systems engineer. Retired a couple of years ago and moved to Massachusetts. He’s not on the list you gave me, but his name’s come up three times already. According to his former colleagues he was the best in the field.”

“Where are you?”

“Still in Boston.”

“Good. Check him out. Call me back if you find anything.”

Wellfleet Town Pier

Cape Cod Bay, Massachusetts
Monday 17 July 2006

1800 EDT

Gerald Ross stood and raised his glass. “Gentlemen,” he proclaimed in a voice that was not quite a slur yet, “As always, it’s been a pleasure. To fair seas and the men who sail them!”

The rest of the men gathered at the table held up their own glasses and repeated the toast.

“Anyone heading back to the Cape this weekend?” One of them asked and the group quickly took up the discussion.

Gerald walked back to the bar and asked for the phone. The barman took the handset from the cradle behind the counter and handed it over.

“Darling, it’s me,” Gerald said when his wife picked up. “I’m leaving in a minute. Should be home before eight. Did you manage to get the car looked at?”

“No. The damn painters turned up an hour late,” his wife said. “I haven’t had time to go anywhere. I hope you’ve had dinner, because there won’t be anything here when you get back. I’ve got to run down to the Jensens’ at five and pick up the dog.”

“I’ve already eaten.”

“You mean you lost your appetite drinking.”

“Christ, you know me well, woman.”

“I know you well enough to be sure you’ll sail that damn boat out into the open sea one day and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll ever get that lucky. Anyway, I’ll see you this evening.”

“Yes, dear. Two of me, I have no doubt.”

Gerald hung up and handed back the phone.

“Another, sir?” The barman asked, pointing at the glass in Gerald’s hand.

“No, thank you. I still have to sail home.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” the barman said.

“If only my wife were as optimistic.”

The young man gave him an understanding smile and walked to the end of the counter to serve another customer.

Gerald left the building and made his way across the yard to the foot of the main pier. His boat was moored at the end. She was a 48-foot Sunseeker Superhawk with a navy blue and white hull.

The boat had been his retirement present to himself and the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. Her name was
Felicity Gail
and she was sound to a fault. He had put in the hours, learning everything from navigation to engine maintenance. Eventually, even Cynthia had come to accept the boat, no small feat considering she had threatened to scuttle it herself when he first brought it home and showed her the stub in their checkbook. He had paid $115,000 for her.

He ran an absentminded hand over the sleek fiberglass hull and thought that perhaps, when he got old enough, and his head no longer dictated to his body, he
would
take her out and head into the sunset. It would be a hell of a way to go.

His daydreaming was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, which he had thoughtlessly left on the helmsman’s seat. He climbed up the short rope ladder, walked around to the cockpit and picked it up.

When he saw the number, he dropped the phone and jumped down the short flight of steps into the cabin. He pulled the cushion off one of the seats, opened the hatch and pulled out a laptop. When the operating system had loaded, he found the pier’s wireless network, opened the internet browser and typed
motherandbabystuff.com
. The web page had a pink and baby blue motif and contained a variety of prams, cots and other baby paraphernalia for sale. He clicked on one of the cribs and the screen displayed an error page to say the link had an invalid URL. Ignoring the message, he typed a sixteen-digit number on the keyboard that didn’t appear on the screen. When he pushed
enter
, it turned blank for several seconds, then showed a simple command interface of green alphanumeric characters against a black background. He typed another password followed by the words
seek identify
, hit
enter
again and sat back. A moment later, text began to fill up the screen.

pass-code accepted.........

finding proxy 1............

connected..................

finding proxy 2............

connected..................

finding proxy 3............

connected..................

finding proxy 4............

connected..................

finding proxy 5............

connected..................

satellite up-link..........

starting scrambler.........

line secure................

dialing....................

The voice at the other end sounded worried. “Ross?”

“I’m here,” Gerald said. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t use this line anymore.”

“Where are you?”

“Cape Cod. On the Pier. Why?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but you need to get out of there.”

“Why?” Ross said.

“Because someone’s looking for you, Gerald. And I’m not talking about the cops. Three of the engineers who worked on Nova have been contacted in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Why the fuck are they looking for me, Walter? What happened to ‘they’ll never risk it because it would be suicide’?”

The line went silent for a moment.

“All I can tell you is that I don’t think the hard drive I gave you has anything to do with what I was looking for. I don’t think it even belongs to the CIA.”

Gerald’s face became a study in disbelief. “You told me no one would come looking. You promised me that!”

“I know. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Did you get a chance to see what was on the drive?”

“No!” Gerald said, his voice rising to a shout. “It’s ten years old! I told you, I don’t have the hardware. And it’s in my house. Cynthia’s at home, for Christ’s sake.”