The Shadow Protocol (45 page)

“I wanted to make sure Adam was okay.” She sipped the coffee.

“Not good?” Tony asked, seeing her grimace.

“It’s vending machine coffee—is it ever?” They both grinned. “Thanks, though. I needed it, whatever it tastes like. God, I can’t believe I actually fell asleep while you were questioning Adam.”

“You
were
very tired,” he pointed out. “You’ve been through a lot in the past couple of days, so I can’t blame you for taking a nap. I just hope that when they play back the tapes, they can filter out your snoring.”

“I
don’t
snore,” she protested, before realizing that he was teasing.

Another grin. “You do drool, though.”

“I do not!” she cried, putting a hand to the side of her mouth—and finding it damp. “Oh. Apparently I do. Ugh.”

He chuckled, then sipped his coffee. “It’s kind of cute, so don’t worry about it. Anyway, I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything you’ve done. However the mission turned out, the fact remains that we
did
stop al-Qaeda from getting hold of nuclear materials. And we still got a lot of actionable intel from al-Rais’s persona.”

“You didn’t get the man himself, though.”

“We will. Next time.”

“If there is a next time. The way Harper was carrying on, it sounded like he wanted everyone at STS court-martialed, or whatever it is you do.”

“We’ll see. But you … you’ve got absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud, in fact. We asked you to do things that were way beyond what you expected—what
we
expected—and you came through amazingly.”

She blushed, even as she basked in the compliment. “Thanks. Although I really would have preferred not to be shot at.” Her mood dampened as she remembered that others in the team had also been fired upon—and not all had escaped unharmed. “God. We could all have been killed. We nearly were.”

Tony crouched in front of her, putting a hand on her arm. “Hey. The main thing is that it’s over. And you … you did great.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

They were both silent for a long moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Tony was the first to break the spell. “So. You should get some proper sleep.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“You want a ride to your hotel? I’m probably going to head home myself soon.”

“Thanks, but there’s something I need to do before I go.”

“Check on Adam?”

“Good guess.”

“It wasn’t a guess.” He stood. “And this isn’t a guess either—you want to ask me about the side effects of having a persona imprinted more than once.”

“You’re good at this. You should be a spy or something.”

Tony laughed. “I wanted to design skyscrapers when I was a kid, but things didn’t work out that way.” He sat on the couch beside her. “The second time I took on Najjar’s persona, it felt … smoother, maybe, like it was quicker for me to adjust to it. But it was also …”

His expression became troubled. “What is it?” Bianca asked.

“It’s hard to describe. It felt like … like a
tumor
. Something
that shouldn’t be there, growing inside me. It was a relief every time the persona was wiped, but … it made coming in for the next interrogation worse because I knew this
thing
would be back. I started getting sick to my stomach every time I went to the lab.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

He shook his head. “No, because I’m a macho idiot.” The self-deprecating admission made her smile. “And I wanted to bring al-Qaeda down using that son of a bitch Najjar’s own knowledge. Which we did—we took out a whole bunch of his top men. Unfortunately, not all of them. Al-Rais survived. And now we’re back in exactly the same situation.”

“Not quite the same. This time it’s Adam doing it.”

“Yeah. And I hope he doesn’t go through what I did, but … well. It’s like that definition of insanity: doing exactly the same thing and expecting a different outcome.” He straightened. “You should talk to him. Persuade him
not
to be a macho idiot.”

“That might be tough.” They both smiled. “But yes, I’ll try.” She stood. “And Tony … thanks.”

“For what?”

“For telling me all that. I know it must have been hard.”

“Not as hard as actually doing it. If you can help Adam avoid it, you’ve certainly got my blessing.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She left the debriefing room and headed through the corridors to the Bullpen. Only a few of the workstations were manned at this early hour, a skeleton night-shift crew standing in for the regular team members. She went to the Cube and hesitantly tapped on the door.

Adam replied immediately. “Yes?”

“It’s Bianca. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

She entered. Adam had changed his clothes, an open wall panel revealing a small wardrobe. “Morning,” she said.

“Hi. Are you okay?”

“That was going to be my opening question. Did you get any sleep?”

“Some.”

She detected an unsettled air to his answer. “Did you have the same dream again?”

“I
always
have it. But there was something about it this time …”

“Was it different? Did you remember something?”

“Not remember, as such, but … I’m more certain than ever that it was something real—up until the part where I see myself dead, anyway. Qasid’s got something to do with it. I don’t know
how
I know, but … I know.” He shook his head. “As for how much sleep I actually got, it was enough to erase al-Rais’s persona.”

“That must be a relief.”

“It is. But you’re still worried about the effects, right?”

“Yeah.” She sat facing him. “I just talked to Tony about … about what he went through with Najjar’s persona. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Thank you. I’m fine, though.”

“You’re not just being a macho idiot when you say that, are you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Tony’s words, not mine.”

“Tony called me a macho idiot?”

“No, that’s what he called himself. For not telling anyone what he was going through.”

“Right.” He said nothing for a moment, lost in thought. “It did feel different the second time.”

“How so?”

“It’s hard to put into words. It felt … like getting into character for a play, I suppose. If you’ve rehearsed it, it’s easier to do.”

“So I assume you’ve acted in a play before, if that’s the first metaphor you thought of.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I was in the drama club at school.”

“Well, you are a spy. There’s a lot of acting involved.”

A wry grin. “It’d be good to have a complete script once in a while.”

“Preferably one with a happy ending. But did you feel any ill effects from taking on al-Rais’s persona again? Anything … deep down?” She didn’t want to use Tony’s words to prompt him, hoping he would come up with his own description.

None was forthcoming, though. “No. Unless you count disgust, now that I know some of the things he’s done. John was right. We should have killed him when we had the chance. He deserves it. Only now …” He sighed. “He’s on the loose again. And he knows about the Persona Project.”

“He can’t know all that much, surely?” said Bianca. “Even though we didn’t give him any Mnemexal, all he’ll remember is that we did something to him—but he won’t know what. Maybe he just thought the PERSONA machine was a fancy lie detector or something.”

“He knows our faces.”

That thought cast a pall over the room. “Hopefully someone’ll catch him before he can find out who we are.”

“We need more than hope.” Adam leaned back, thinking. “He’s got assets he can use against us. But we’ve got one we can use against him.”

“His persona?”

“No. We got the most crucial information in the first interrogation—anything else is just going to be extra detail. But we’ve also got Qasid. He knows one of al-Qaeda’s moles—someone high up in Pakistani intelligence. If we find out who … maybe we can turn them.”

“And get them to tell us where al-Rais is?” Adam nodded. “Only problem is, Harper doesn’t think Qasid’s worth the effort. What if you can’t get permission to make a transfer before he gets shipped out to Guantánamo Bay?”

“I already know I won’t get it,” he said. “They’re only interested in al-Rais. But Qasid
knows
something. And not just about the mole—about
me
too. He’s seen me before.”
Another thoughtful pause, then he stood. “I’m going to find out where.”

“You’re going to interrogate him?”

“No. I’m going to use the PERSONA on him.”

“What?” Bianca gasped. “Wait a minute—if you don’t have permission, won’t that get you into a lot of trouble with Morgan? And with Harper?”

“I’ll have permission—they just won’t know about it. I can hack into the system and give myself authorization.”

“That sounds like a really bad idea, Adam.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” he said, giving her a humorless smile. “Because I can’t do it without your help. So … will you help me?”

Visions of orange jumpsuits jumped unbidden to her mind. “Are you insane? I don’t want to end up in the cell next door to Qasid!”

“Nobody’ll ever find out. And this is the best time to do it—there’s hardly anyone on duty. The full day shift won’t come in for another couple of hours. I’ll only need a few minutes to get what I need from Qasid’s persona.”

“What about the security cameras? And the guard on the cells?”

“If nobody knows anything happened, they won’t have any reason to look at the security records. And the guard will check his computer, see we’ve got permission, and not think anything more about it. Bianca,
please
!” he said, suddenly pleading. “I’ve
got
to do this. Qasid knows something about my past. If he’s taken away, I’ll never find out what it is.”

“I want to help you, really I do,” she replied. “But it’s too dangerous!”

“You went undercover with a violent arms dealer.
That
was dangerous. So was hiding in the back of a snowcat full of terrorists. All you have to do here is get the PERSONA gear from the lab and oversee the transfer—it’ll take ten minutes, tops.”

“But if we get caught …”

“We
won’t
be,” he insisted. “I know what I’m doing.”
Seeing that she was still reluctant, he softened his voice. “Bianca, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’ve done something for me that nobody else has—you made me start thinking about who I really am. And now I’ve got a chance to find out … but I’ll never know if you don’t help me. I
need
to do this, Bianca. Please.”

Several seconds passed before she gave him a reply. “Are you
absolutely
sure you can do it without anyone finding out?”

“Yes, I am. Do you trust me?”

Another pause, but shorter. “Yes,” she said, before repeating the word with more certainty. “Yes.”

“Will you help me?”

Seconds passed before she replied. She would be risking a lot: her career, the Luminica deal, even her freedom.

But Adam was right. She had started his search for answers about his past, and since he had saved her life—more than once—in Russia, she owed him the chance to find them.

“I … yes,” she said. “But if anything happens …”

“I’ll take all the blame,” he said firmly. “But it won’t come to that. Like I said, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’d better not get mud on my bum again,” Bianca told him, her old spark resurfacing. “Okay, so what do I have to do?”

“Go to the lab and bring the PERSONA gear.”

“Including the recorder?”

“No, I won’t need it.”

“Good. The damn thing weighs a ton.”

He smiled. “Then meet me outside briefing room C in five minutes.”

“Briefing room C, that’s, ah …”

“Out of the back-left exit from the Bullpen, turn left, then right.”

“Gotcha.” She rose and went to the door—then hesitated, looking back. “Adam …”

“Trust me,” he said. She nodded and left the room. Adam followed her out, going to one of the unoccupied workstations. A surreptitious check to make sure none of the night-shift staff was paying him any particular attention, then he started to enter commands.

Bianca went to the lab, feeling as though everyone she passed was regarding her with deep suspicion. She almost expected her ID card to be rejected when she put it into the lock, but the light turned green as normal.

Heart pounding, she entered and opened the cabinet to collect the equipment. It was the first time she had done so without Kiddrick watching hawkishly over her shoulder, and she still couldn’t escape the sense that there was someone right behind her.

But a glance around assured her that she was being paranoid. Relieved, she turned back to her task, collecting everything she needed. She picked up the cases and was about to nudge the cabinet closed with her knee when she paused, noticing something. One of the memory modules containing the recorded personas of the test subjects was labeled with a familiar name:
CARPENTER, A
. Tony was short for Anthony, obviously. She looked along the cases for a
GRAY, A
., but saw none.