Out Of Time. Cliff Ryder
Alex said. “I’ve always had at least that long—usually closer to six weeks or more—between missions.”
“This is going to be a tough one, Alex. Security is tight, and the schedule is half a gnat’s ass short of insane. We’re under the gun, and you may be our only field agent who can pull it off. You have experience with the Chinese, and you speak the language.”
It was true. Alex had completed two missions in the east in the past ten years. As an Army Ranger he’d been specially trained for Chinese operations—he spoke several dialects, and with some work he could pass for a tall Asian if he had to. Of course, given the right opportunity, he could pass for almost anything.
“The file said MRIS was involved,” Alex said. “You know Brin works for them. It’s pretty close to home.”
“As far as we know, her work isn’t a part of this,” Denny said, “but it’s a safe bet that they’re using every resource they have in one way or another, even if the people don’t know it themselves. I doubt there’s any part of the company not involved in this one way or another. I’m sure she’s clean—we checked and rechecked to make sure—but I don’t know what it will mean for her if they bring this all together. Hell, I don’t know what it will mean for China, or the world, but it won’t be good. Chemical attacks are bad enough—if they manage to infect someone over here with those damned nanobuggers of theirs, it could get out of control pretty fast. We can’t let that happen.”
“Of course not,” Alex agreed. “Do we have an in? They’re going to be looking for trouble, especially if they’re as close as you say. You sure we have time for this? Might be better to turn one like this over to more standard channels and get them shut down.”
“Can’t risk it,” Denny said so quickly that he must have anticipated the question. He was like that. “Relations between China and the U.S. are already too strained. Our sources on this are in deep—they can’t be the ones to bring this forward. If we tried it, it would just be seen as us taking another shot at their culture. They’d tighten up, shut us out, and by the time they’d realized their mistake, it would be over. We have to go in—hard, fast and right now.”
Alex didn’t reply. Denny didn’t wait long.
“You want it, cowboy?”
Alex glanced down at his hand. For the moment, it was steady. He thought of Brin, smiling at him and hurrying Savannah out the door. There was such trust in that smile, such love. How could he leave her alone to face—what? A company that wasn’t really trying to cure diseases, but intent on spreading new ones? Would she be safe? Would they come after her, others like her, to force them into creating bigger, better diseases instead of curing the ones they had now? How long before Savannah was in danger?
He sighed. Maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent, but even at ninety he was better than most. This might be his last shot at doing something that really meant something. Maybe he could beat the MS and still do what he loved.
“I’m in,” he said. “Give me what you’ve got.”
“Timetable transferring to your calendar,” Denny replied. “You have the files. There are photos, a database of personnel, instructions on contacts and credentials. You know the drill. Once it’s all transferred, and you’re airborne, we’re out.”
“The assignment?” Alex asked. He knew the information would be in the file, but he wanted a few seconds more to back out if he thought of a way to get clear. Nothing came to mind, and this wasn’t a drug lord making things nasty on the border—this was a huge global threat.
“We need the research either retrieved or wiped out,” Denny replied. “It has to be removed from all their systems and backups. We want it utterly gone. There is also a list of key personnel, the people we have established with certainty are behind this. They have to be taken out of the equation so they don’t just recreate the work. There has to be a message sent with this, Alex. It must be made clear that this kind of thing won’t be tolerated. If we hit too hard, we’ll get too much attention—but if we don’t hit them hard enough, they’ll—”
“Just come back like bad pennies,” Alex finished. “Where do we stand right now for field support?”
“You’ll have a local asset in Beijing who will supply any and all needs beyond your departure. You have, of course, full run of equipment, data and assistance on this end. That ends the minute you hit the ground over there, so take advantage while you have the chance.”
“Will do,” Alex replied. “Damn. And I was looking forward to weeding the garden this week.”
“You’ll get to it, cowboy,” Denny said.
“Yeah,” Alex replied. “I guess. I’m out. I have a lot of reading to do, and then I have to explain to Brin and Savannah why I won’t be taking them camping this weekend.”
“Alex, one other thing,” Denny said. “I tried to talk Kate out of calling you on this one. I know you could use a break—if for no other reason than to finish that report on Mexico.”
“It’s okay,” Alex replied. “I have to do this—you know I do. It’s too close for me to ignore. I’ll get in, do the job and get out as quickly as I can. Plenty of time left for gardening when it’s done.” He grinned. “And I’ll upload the report on my last mission to you before I leave.”
“That’s the spirit,” Denny replied. “Catch you soon.”
Alex left Denny’s office, then brought up the icons again, choosing the one for home. His view shifted and once more he was in his own virtual office. He flipped open the first file. He wouldn’t be able to download or print any of the data, so he had to make the most of the time he had to read and memorize everything they knew. His life might depend on it. What he could safely carry would be waiting for him at the equipment drop—names, photos and false identification.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Holy five-flaming hell.”
He cursed, and he read, and he drank black coffee. When his hand twitched and then began to tremble, he told himself it was just the caffeine.
Alex had meant to offer his resignation. To call it quits and spend his last good days with his wife and daughter. If Denny or Kate or anyone in Room 59 found out about the MS, the mission would be aborted. They might even take him out to keep him from snapping. He couldn’t let that happen—he needed this one. It was his chance at the blaze of glory—a final shot at being a hero. This was a mission that could make a difference, and he wasn’t about to turn it down. A warrior without a war to fight wasn’t much of anything.
As far as missions went, it was a good one. Challenging and making the world a safer place. At the least it beat holy hell out of a pile of useless pamphlets and a race to oblivion. It would have to be enough.
As Alex read, memorizing names and places and facts, the sun slipped toward the horizon. The sad little lamp on his desk—considered a treasure when they’d found it at the garage sale years ago—was an inadequate soldier against the shadows that had filled the room. He was just about to take a break, make some more coffee, when he heard sounds of talk and laughter in the driveway. Brin and Savannah, returning from their day out in the world. How many times had Brin come home to an empty house since they’d been married? Too many, he guessed. Still, that would be ending soon enough.
Alex disconnected from his office, and put the glasses back beneath the desk, then stood and walked toward the front door. For now, his body seemed to be obeying all commands, but he wasn’t sure just how long that would last. The door swung open, and there was Brin, looking every bit as prim as she had that morning, one hand full of mail, the other clutching her briefcase.
“Hey, you.” Alex chuckled. He leaned on the wall, this time because he wanted to, not because he needed the support.
“Daddy!” Savannah rocket launched across the room and left the ground in one last glorious leap, knowing that her daddy would catch her in midair.
Catch