Rogue Operator (27 page)

He
smacked it.

Don’t
make me hurt you!

There
was a knock at the door.

“Can I
come in?”

“No!” he
yelped, panic setting in.

He heard
giggling receding back toward the bed.

And he
smiled, then began to laugh at the ridiculous situation.

He
looked in the mirror and saw the happiness on his face, a happiness he hadn’t
seen in a long time.

Am I
falling in love, for real this time?

He had of
course heard of relationships forged under fire, and that was certainly what
had been happening to him and Sherrie. And his rational side still had his
doubts as to whether or not she was still playing him as part of her job, but
his irrational side, his heart, longed for her touch, her laugh, her breath on
his skin. She was everything he had never known he had wanted. Beautiful, sure,
but that was never really his criteria for a relationship, that merely
attracted the initial glance. For him he had never really known what he wanted
besides a companion. He had assumed someone quiet like him, someone to curl up
on the couch and watch Firefly reruns, cursing the network for cancelling it,
someone to get excited about there being more Star Wars movies on the close
horizon, and to wait in line to see a new Star Trek movie.

Then to
make slow, passionate love to when they got home, still running on their own
warp speed of adrenaline.

But
Sherrie wasn’t any of that, at least he thought she wasn’t. She was exciting,
active, playful, and probably green chick wild in bed.
Christ, she’s an
agent!
His heart sank. He knew it could never be, but he wanted it to be so
badly.

He
turned on the shower, stripped out of his clothes, and stepped inside, his arms
against the wall, his head lowered under the strong stream of hot water. He
ignored the heat as he soaked his head, trying to forget the love of his life
on the other side of the door.

The door
to the shower suddenly popped open and he felt a cool draft. He stood up
straight, looking behind him to see Sherrie, naked, step inside. She closed the
door behind him, and he found he couldn’t tear his eyes off her. The stream
from the shower, only partially blocked by his back, sprayed over his shoulder,
and her skin quickly became a glistening feast, her breasts slowly swaying as
she took the final step toward him, reaching up and pulling his head down
toward her.

Her lips
were on fire, and within moments he found his arms around her waist, pulling
her to him, grinding against her as they lost themselves in the passion of the
moment. It was something he knew shouldn’t be happening, couldn’t be happening,
but he didn’t care anymore. For a moment he felt he was taking a page out of
the Dylan Kane operations manual, but he pushed the thought aside as he looked
into her eyes.

Eyes
that at least suggested to his inexperienced self that she too had genuine
feelings for him.

He
closed his eyes and kissed her again, his hands exploring the wonderland being
offered to him.

God,
I hope the Director doesn’t show up.

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

Chris was having a hard time focusing on his work. He kept thinking
of the shower, then the bathroom floor, then the toilet, then the countertop,
then the bed, the bed, the bed…

He had
lost count of how many times they had made love through the night. Five or six?
It was amazing, spectacular, incredible. At least it was for him. Suddenly he
became insecure. What if she hadn’t liked it? What if he hadn’t been any good?

He
glanced over at her desk and found her staring at him with a smile on her face.

Okay,
maybe I was fine?

He
replayed her moans and cries in his mind.

Damned
fine.

His
chest swelled in manly self-satisfaction, and he refocused, sifting through the
new set of Echelon intercepts, as well as other sources the public would
shudder at, as he tried to build the mountain of evidence the Director had told
him he needed if he were going to confront the Secretary of Defense.

And he
was finding it. The link to Brad Finch, the founder and CEO of BlackTide, was
unmistakable, but in reading the intercepts, he couldn’t find anything truly
incriminating beyond what he had already found, the reference to the military
transport, and even that had been a casual mention. There was nothing there
that suggested the Secretary had known what it was being used for.

He
pulled up the next intercept, an encrypted email exchange between the Secretary
and Finch, only the subject line decrypted.
RE: Project Persistent
Vigilance.

It rang
a bell. Something he had seen before. He quickly ran a search algorithm and a
few minutes later was looking at an email exchange captured between Brad Finch
when he was in Mali last week, and one of his senior executives, a retired
colonel named Atticus Tucker. He hadn’t paid it any mind as he was focusing on
communications between the Secretary and BlackTide, not internal communications
that might reference the Secretary. That was planned for later in his analysis.

But it
was the subject line that tweaked, and sure enough, matched perfectly.

Would
they be so stupid?

He
opened the email, and began to read, a smile spreading across his face as the
forwarded, unencrypted exchange was laid out before him.

Hands
squeezed his shoulders and he moaned in pleasure as his eyes closed and his
head tilted back to rest on her stomach. He looked into the eyes he loved as they
gazed down on him, her smile warming his heart in a way it had never been
before.

“You’ve
got something, don’t you?”

He
nodded then pointed at the screen.

“Forget
‘something’. I’ve got
it.
”

Office of the Secretary of Defense, The Pentagon, Washington, DC

“Leif! How are you? Your people said it was urgent,” said Secretary
of Defense Bill Erickson, extending his hand as Morrison stepped into the
office. Morrison shook the hand, feeling as if he should wipe the taint off as
soon as he let go. Erickson pointed at a chair in front of his desk as he sat
in his own high back leather chair. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

Morrison
had debated sitting as he walked down the hallway toward Erickson’s office. It
would be more dramatic for him to stand, to try and put Erickson on the
defensive, but had decided against the theatrics. The file he held in his hand
was all he needed. He took the seat, and made himself comfortable, as he was
about to make the man he had worked closely with for almost four years very
un
comfortable.

He
placed the file on the desk, but kept a finger on it, indicating Erickson
wasn’t supposed to take it.

“You are
aware of what happened last night?”

“You
mean the attempt on one of your analysts and the incursion into your airspace?
Of course, I was phoned at home as soon as we received word.”

“Are you
aware of why this attempt was made?”

Erickson
shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “None. At least I haven’t been
briefed on anything since this morning’s Threat Assessment.”

“Would
you be surprised to find out that BlackTide was involved?”

Erickson
folded his arms across his chest, then quickly placed them on the arms of his
chair again. “BlackTide? Are you sure?”

Morrison
nodded. “Absolutely. And do you know what it was related to?”

Erickson’s
arms folded again, but this time remained in place. “Why do you keep asking me
things you know I don’t know about?”

Morrison
pushed the file across the desk slightly, leaving his finger in place.

“Because
I know you know full well about them.” Erickson’s mouth opened to protest, but
Morrison continued. “Three scientists were abducted last week, along with the
wives and children of the two married scientists. They were working on a
project involving nanotechnology for DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research
Projects Agency. Top secret.
Very
top secret, in fact. Do you know where
they were transported to?”

Erickson
shook his head, his demeanor clearly that of someone who was now uncomfortable,
his cheeks slightly flushed, a couple of beads of sweat breaking out on his
brow, his knuckles white from the death grip they now had on the arms of his
chair.

“North
Korea.”

A burst
of air exploded from Erickson. “I don’t know why you’re telling me all this.
What is it you want from me?”

Morrison
ignored him.

“And are
you aware of how they were transported there?”

Again
Erickson shook his head.

Morrison’s
eyebrows inched up in mock surprise. “Really? Are you sure? You see, I’m
surprised by that, since you’re the one who requested the military transport
that was used for part of their journey.”

Erickson
blanched, all color draining from his face.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re
the one who authorized the plane, and made sure it was off the books.”

“I-I did
no such thing.” Erickson sucked in a deep breath, regaining some color. “This
is all garbage. If you had any evidence, I’d be under arrest right now, and
since I’m not—” He held up his hands and shrugged.

Morrison
flicked the file, finally removing his finger.

“In that
file is the decrypted copy of an email exchange between you and Brad Finch, CEO
of BlackTide.”

Erickson
snatched the file off the table and flipped it open, scanning the first page,
then flipping through the rest.

“How—”

“Did I
get my hands on your encrypted exchange discussing treasonous actions against
our country? Your moron partner in this crime, while out of the country,
forwarded the unencrypted version to his point man on the project. That was
intercepted by Echelon. The rest was just knowing to look for it.”

“What
are you going to do?”

“I want
to know everything.”

Erickson
shook his head. “They’ll kill me.”

“You’re
dead already. It’s just a matter of by whom. This is treason. I’m guessing
death penalty, especially if this country has to go to war to clean up your
mess. But then, I guess that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Erickson’s
shoulders sunk, his head dropping. And Morrison knew he was about to get the
truth, the man’s spirit broken. Erickson raised his head and looked at
Morrison, anguish written all over his face.

“First,
let me say this. What I did, I did for my country.”

“Of
course. I know you’re a patriot. I don’t think you even got any money out of
this deal.”

Erickson
eagerly shook his head. “No! No, I didn’t. It was never about the money for me.
It was about saving our country.”

“And how
was this supposed to save our country?”

“We’re
in a recession. We’re still in a recession, no matter the bullshit numbers that
we feed the public each month. That’s a smoke screen. Our deficit is
structural, we can’t get out of it. Our debt can never be paid back, and our
manufacturing base is shot because everything’s been farmed out to China.”
Erickson leaned forward in his chair, beginning to believe his own bluster,
perhaps hoping he could convince Morrison to come on side. “What got us out of
the Great Depression?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “War! World War Two saved
our economy, and made us the super power we are today, or at least were until
the Great Recession. Now we’re a shadow of our former self, and China threatens
to eclipse us in a decade.

“But what
if we went to war with China? It would solve everything. If we could trigger a
war, a war they would start, or at least could be blamed for, then we could
cancel the securities they’ve purchased, wiping a significant portion of our
debt off the books. That would save us a huge amount of interest each year,
reducing our deficit. But if we went to war with China, we couldn’t exactly buy
goods from them, and neither could our allies. We would almost immediately
collapse their economy, and we would reestablish a manufacturing base here in
America. Millions of jobs would be created because of the war, even just a
short war, and then we would transition those people and factories into
manufacturing the goods we would no longer be buying from our enemy.

“China
would be crippled, no longer a threat, America’s economic might would be
restored, the Great Recession would be over, and the increased tax base would
be able to eliminate our deficit, and then we could reduce our already trimmed
debt. All we needed was to get them involved in a war, against us.”

“North
Korea.”

“Exactly.
If they kidnapped our scientists, and we could prove it, the American public
would be outraged. And with the weapon they’d be designing, we would have to
invade to preserve ourselves. And then the Chinese would step in. There would
be a brief exchange, perhaps three to six months, but it wouldn’t matter, as
long as we had eliminated the threat posed by the research.” Erickson held his
hands up, as if defending himself from any verbal retorts Morrison might have.
“Don’t worry, our intention was always to have them killed before they could do
any harm. We were just waiting for the next phase of the operation.”

“Which
was?”

“To leak
the story to the press and fire up the hawkish bloggers. Get the public
demanding we take action, then send in a team to try and rescue our citizens,
but instead have them and their families killed, causing more outrage. We’d
bomb the complex and their missile sites, the North would invade the South, and
we’d be obligated to participate. China would get involved, and as soon as US
and Chinese troops met in battle, our plan would be complete. Americans would
demand a boycott of all things Chinese, their economy would collapse, and we’d
win in the long run.”