Kill Decision

  Harrison motioned for Agent Tierney to follow him. “Matt. C’mon. The SAIC says Homeland Security’s got this.”

  Tierney looked back and suddenly straightened up. “Sir. How can we help you?”

  “By leaving this room.” The senior FBI agent held the door open for them while the Homeland Security agent stepped inside. He had a kinder face—a fatherly look, with a full head of gray, neatly groomed hair.

  “Oh. Of course.” Tierney glanced back at McKinney and headed for the door.

  The Homeland Security agent grabbed the folder from him. “Speak no more of this with anyone. Your SAIC will debrief you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The agents headed out along with the local agent in charge, and the door closed behind them, leaving McKinney alone with the recent arrival.

  He nodded and sat down across from her. “How you holding up, Linda?”

  She studied him warily. “Not well. Who are you?”

  “Agent Blake, Homeland Security.” He produced his credentials again, handing them to her so she could inspect them closely. The gold shield and ID were enclosed in a quality black leather sleeve. “I flew here from Chicago once your report was flagged in the system.”

  After examining his credentials she handed them back. “From Chicago? Because of me?”

  He nodded.

  She dropped her head onto her hands. “Oh, thank God.” She lifted her head up again. “Please tell me you believe me.”

  “Something in your written statement intrigues me—your theory about the terrorist bombings. You mention that they’re actually drone strikes. Who told you this?”

  “That’s what the man commanding the operation told me. He goes by a—a call sign. ‘Odin.’”

  “Odin.” It was unclear whether it was a declaration or a question.

  “I don’t know whether it’s true or not.” She studied his expression. “Is it?”

  He took out a black leather-bound pad, from which he drew an expensive-looking silver pen. “I have no idea, but if there’s a special military unit here in Kansas City, I should know about it. And I don’t.”

  “If they’re a legitimate defense operation, that’s one thing, but . . . I’m a scientist. I needed corroboration before I—”

  He patted her hand. “You did the right thing. We need to get this sorted out. You’re lucky you got away—if what you’re saying is true, they’re very dangerous people. Can you tell me where their operation is headquartered?”

  She sighed in relief and nodded vigorously. “Yes. They’re in a place called SubTropolis—on the north bank of the Missouri River.”

  He nodded. “I know it. Homeland Security and the FBI use it for archival data storage.”

  “Then they might be legitimate?”

  He jotted notes. “Let’s stick with what we know.”

  “They said they chose it so that drone missiles couldn’t hit them.”

  “Clever.”

  “You’re with the government—can you call someone and find out if this is legitimate?”

  “The federal government is a complex organism, Professor. Sometimes pieces of it become . . . cancerous. Dangerous. As a scientist, I’m sure you understand.”

  McKinney didn’t know what to feel.

  He squeezed her hand again. “I’m sure this has all been very stressful, but what’s important is that you’re safe now.”

  McKinney nodded. “What happens next?”

  “I need to make arrangements. In the meantime, let’s get you to a safe house. Someplace where no one with access to government systems can find out where you are.”

  She gave him a sideways look.

  He smiled reassuringly. “I was thinking a downtown hotel under an assumed name. Room service, cable TV. I’ll assign agents to guard you.”

  “You believe my story.”

  “Let’s just—”

  “Then what they told me about the drone attacks must be true. It’s why you came down here so fast, isn’t it?”

  He stared at her, unreadable.

  “I’d like to phone my father.”

  “I don’t mean to alarm you, but if this is a rogue government agency we’re dealing with, your life is in danger. And we’ll need to get your family under protection as well. We need to get you into hiding, and I need to get you out of here as quietly as possible.”

  * * *

  McKinney fidgeted in the back of an unmarked government sedan, Agent Blake at the wheel. The car moved through late-night traffic near downtown Kansas City, Christmas decorations on the light poles. Blake had asked her to assume the posture of a suspect being transferred to Homeland Security custody, and accordingly they out-processed her and put her in a vehicle with a metal grille partition that separated her from the driver. Even worse, they’d handcuffed her like they would any other prisoner. She even had her hands chained to her waist, wearing a tan prisoner jumpsuit and booties. With each passing day her life just kept getting stranger.

  “Now that we’re away from the FBI office, can you please take these chains off me, Agent Blake?”

  He shook his head. “We need to get well clear and make sure we’re not being tailed first.”

  McKinney slumped and tried as best she could to get comfortable on the hard plastic seat. As they drove through downtown, she leaned her head against the window, watching the shop and office façades passing by. Normal life. There wasn’t much foot traffic. It looked like the type of downtown that cleared out after dark—after the office workers left.

  McKinney wondered if the Feds would raid the secret base. Was it still there? Perhaps Odin’s whole team had picked up or destroyed the evidence and fled. A sudden fear gripped her that she’d been wrong or that the Feds would get involved in a shoot-out with the military team because of her—a miscommunication or misunderstanding that might wind up subverting America’s defenses. Guilt nagged at her as she recalled the dead, burned bodies in those bombing photos. The face of one dead little girl in particular bothered her.

  But what other choice had there been? She was a scientist. You don’t just take people’s word for things—you find out. She needed to corroborate their story, and they were unreasonable to expect that she’d do what they asked without official sanction that the operation was legitimate and legal. If the Feds raided the place and it turned out to be an illegal operation—or worse yet, that they were behind the drone attacks—or bombings, or whatever they were—then she would actually have helped stop a serious crime. Wouldn’t she?

  McKinney didn’t feel any better. She realized that this was probably what intelligence work was like: no idea what the big picture was, and no clear best course.

  She’d been lost in her own thoughts for a while when she suddenly noticed they were moving through a large, empty parking lot. Cones of bright light from towering lamp poles stabbed down at regular intervals. She could see passenger jets taking off in the distance. A car rental lot was visible several hundred yards away, as were illuminated billboards that only occur in the nether regions around airports—shuttle bus and mileage program ads, breakfast buffets. The usual corporate chain hotel logos glowed on towers not far off. Apparently Blake was bringing her to a hotel near the airport. Not a bad idea to remain anonymous.

  The sedan slowed in the middle of the parking lot. Blake circled, looking warily in all directions.

  McKinney leaned forward. “What are we doing?”

  Blake ignored her.

  “Agent Blake, what’s going on?”

  Without answering Blake stopped the car in the center of the lot, ignoring the parking lines. He got out.

  “Hey!” McKinney leaned over to watch him walk out to the edge of the cone of light in his full-length greatcoat, scanning the horizon. “Hey, what’s going on?” Her shouts were magnified in the plastic confines of the sedan’s backseat. She tugged against the chain binding her handcuffed wrists to her waist. “Agent Blake!”

  He continued to act as if she didn’t exi
st.

  McKinney glanced around. There were no other cars within two hundred yards of them. It was a vast, empty place beneath floodlights. The winter cold was already creeping into the car—her breath stabbing out vapor. She could hear the engine parts clicking as they cooled.

  Agent Blake was now acting as if she were a nonperson, and a terrible realization began to sink in: that she had fallen in with dangerous people. That much was increasingly clear.

  She lay back against the seat and tried to remember what normal life was like. Instead all she could remember was how instantaneous the blast wave had been on those attack videos—bodies disintegrated by industrial weaponry, as though they were made of paper.

  Would anyone ever discover what happened to her, or would she just become another one of the disappeared in the world? The researcher who disappeared somewhere in Africa. That’s Africa for you, people would say. She thought again of her father.

  Just then something dark alighted on the trunk of the car.

  McKinney recoiled in alarm but then turned to see a large raven marching around the trunk lid just beyond the rear window glass. It wore a small headset and what she now knew was a tiny video camera. Huginn or Muninn—she could never tell them apart. She didn’t know whether she was happy to see him or frightened.

  Blake was still scanning the horizon and hadn’t noticed the bird. It flew off again unseen.

  A moment later a vehicle’s headlights approached and entered on the far side of the vast lot. It was an unmarked blue utility van.

  Blake opened his coat, holding his hands up where they could be seen. Before long the van coasted to a stop behind Blake’s car. She recognized a grim-faced Odin behind the wheel with his long black beard. He ignored her, instead scanning the area, keeping a wary eye on Blake.

  Satisfied, he got out—the dome light not turning on—and he cautiously approached Blake’s car. Odin wore some sort of insulated orange jumpsuit with a reflective vest and ID badge. It looked like an airport technician’s outfit.

  Blake moved to intercept him.

  McKinney watched the men approach one another, keeping their hands visible. They converged next to the car, close enough for her to hear them through the glass.

  Blake spoke first. “David Shaw. I’d ask what rock you crawled out from under, but the professor was kind enough to tell us.”

  Odin glanced at McKinney.

  She couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

  Odin turned forward again. “I’m surprised she’s still alive.”

  “Would you have shown yourself if she wasn’t?”

  “No.”

  Blake spread his hands. There you go.

  “Homeland Security—is that your idea of a joke?”

  “One must maintain a sense of humor in these trying times.”

  “Why’d they send you, Ritter?”

  “To talk some sense into you.”

  “Or because they hoped I’d kill you.”

  Blake seemed uncertain for a moment.

  “But I’m long finished doing their dirty work.”

  Blake relaxed a bit and smiled genially. “NorthCom isn’t your territory. You’re supposed to be over there keeping the savages busy.”

  “Maybe the savages back here need watching too.”

  “The old man’s bitten off more than he can chew this time, David. This isn’t Pakistan. Maybe you’ve been overseas so long you forget that it’s a team sport here. And you’re not on the team.”

  “I didn’t come to talk. I came for the girl.” He headed toward McKinney’s sedan.

  “Does she know you’re using her?”

  Odin turned. “Yeah. You might have noticed she tried to escape.”

  “You can’t stop this, David. It’s going to happen no matter what. They want it. Stop looking.”

  “You of all people know that isn’t going to happen.”

  “Ah, never quit the hunt. Do you want to end up like Mouse? I hear they’re still finding pieces of him over there.”

  Odin paused, but then regained his calm and reached the car door.

  “What if they let you come home, David? Would you be willing to walk away?”

  Odin stopped. He met McKinney’s gaze for several moments. “Walk away.” He nodded silently to himself. “And the professor here?”

  “She’s already dead, and you know it.”

  “Good-bye, Ritter.”

  “Everyone wants this, David. Everyone. You can’t fight it.”

  Odin turned to appraise Ritter for a few moments. “See, that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t just fight the battles I know I can win.” Odin opened the car’s rear door.

  McKinney glared at Blake—or Ritter, or whatever his name was. He seemed to have transformed into a completely different person. “How did he—”

  “Not now.” Odin pulled her up out of the rear seat by her waist chain and started moving her over to the blue van.

  Blake called to them. “You can’t prevent something whose time has come.”

  Odin opened the side door of the van. McKinney could see that it was an empty metal shell—no padding.

  “I’m sorry. I had to know.”

  “Now you know.”

  He picked her up with powerful arms and tossed her into the cargo hold.

  “Odin, I—”

  He slammed the door, leaving her in the semidarkness, craning her neck to see the safety cage between her and the driver’s compartment. Odin got in and started the van.

  McKinney realized how relieved she was to see him.

  He adjusted the rearview mirror to meet her gaze. “Happy now, Professor? The monsters of the deep know you by name.”

  She knelt and looked up at him. “I didn’t have a choice. You gave me no good reason to trust you.”

  “Smart people are always difficult. Always looking for answers. And the answers always lead to more questions.” He accelerated the van toward the parking lot exit, and she slid into the rear doors.

  She crawled forward again. “Who was that man?”

  “I rest my case.”

  “He said he was with Homeland Security.”

  “There are people who work for the people who run the world. He’s one of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they send the Black Chinook for me now.”

  “You kidnapped me. You can’t seriously have expected me to trust you.”

  “Why the hell did you trust them?”

  “The FBI? Homeland Security?”

  “You don’t seem the brand-conscious type, Professor.”

  “Don’t be glib. I needed independent verification that this was real.”

  “Oh, it’s real, all right. Think of it as an iceberg; you only see what’s on the surface. There are people beneath; people who built the systems that run everything.”

  “In the government?”

  “What difference does it make whether they’re in the government? They’re larger than government. They’re power. The world is a big system now. I don’t think anyone knows who’s in charge. But you can run afoul of various interests. That’s for damn sure. And you just did.”

  She pondered that—then looked up at him again. “Shaw.”

  He met her eyes in the mirror.

  “That’s your real name: David Shaw.”

  He clenched his jaw for a few moments. “That was his idea of a warning—letting me know that they know who I am. They think it gives them power over me.”

  “But your family? Your—”

  “It won’t lead them to anything. That’s why the colonel chose me.”

  They locked eyes in the mirror.

  “‘Shaw’ was the name of the road they found me on. It’s a common practice with foundlings at orphanages.” He looked back to the road. “All names were made up at some point. I just know when and where mine was.”

  McKinney slumped against the sliding door as the van sped along a service road.

  “Well, you poured some blood in the water tonight
. Let’s see what shows up.”

  That’s when McKinney noticed they were actually moving along the airport tarmac, approaching a large propeller-driven aircraft. McKinney recognized it as a C-130 cargo plane. She’d seen them used on various research projects in remote locales, although she’d never been aboard one. There were vehicles and work lights around it. Silhouettes of people rushing around.

  In a few moments the van rolled to a stop. Odin got out, but Smokey was already opening the sliding door. He stood in the doorway a moment. “Look who decided to join us.”

  She sighed resignedly as he pulled her up out of the van and onto her feet. They were parked next to the C-130’s lowered rear cargo ramp. The plane itself was unmarked and painted drab brown. Tail numbers were the only markings. Other team members were busy loading gear, while Hoov scanned the skies with some sort of boxy optical device on a tripod. But they all stopped for a moment at the sight of McKinney and broke into mock applause.

  She looked guiltily to Odin. Hoov, Ripper, Mooch, and several more people she hadn’t seen before were all dressed in civilian clothes with no guns in sight. At a hand signal from Odin, they immediately resumed loading cases and checking equipment.

  Odin produced a key and started unlocking her chains and handcuffs. “You want to escape, Professor?” He tossed the handcuffs and chains into the van and closed the sliding door. He then gestured to the vast expanse of tarmac around them. “There! You’re free to go. Best of luck to you.” He stomped up the cargo ramp.

  Foxy stood alongside McKinney as she watched Odin go. He whistled. “Impressive. You got under his skin.”

  She looked to Foxy. “I hope you don’t take what I did personally.”

  Foxy held up a clipboard. “Well, let’s see. Our electronic warfare truck’s been impounded by the Feds, we had to destroy servers and prototypes we couldn’t move, we lost our JOC, and we’ve had to dangerously accelerate the entire timeline. Basically you fucked everything up.” Foxy looked up from the clipboard. “But on a personal note: That was seriously metal.”

  CHAPTER 16