Dead Shift (The Rho Agenda Inception Book 3) Page 13

  This morning’s gathering had none of the small talk and greetings that normally preceded a meeting. All twelve men and women seated around the table maintained an unusual silence as they waited for the president to speak.

  Riles watched as President Harris leaned forward until his elbows rested on the conference table.

  “As you are all aware,” President Harris said, “at approximately 2:30 A.M. Pacific time, a coordinated cyber-attack incapacitated the city of San Francisco, knocking out power, water, and most forms of communications. Make no mistake about it, I regard this as a direct attack on the United States of America.”

  Admiral Riles felt the president turn his gaze in his direction. “Admiral Riles, as my NSA director and head of U.S. Cyber Command, what have you learned about who is behind this attack and how it was launched?”

  Mirroring the president’s posture, Riles leaned forward, his focus so intense that it seemed as if he and the president were the only two people in the room.

  “Mr. President, since shortly after the commencement of the attack we’ve had our top people working this. I’ve also sent a team to the Bay Area to perform forensic analysis of the systems that were compromised. At this point all we have are indications that the power and communications grids were penetrated several hours before the actual attack and that this precursor hack opened backdoors into a wide variety of key systems.”

  President Harris cocked his head ever so slightly, a clear indication he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Why the wait until they launched the attack?”

  “Apparently the attackers wanted all the affected systems to go down at one time to maximize the overall impact.”

  “Then why two thirty in the morning? Why not rush hour or the middle of the business day?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Riles noted the president’s fingers drumming the tabletop. “Okay, Admiral Riles. Can you at least tell me who is behind an attack that completely incapacitated one of our most important cities?”

  “We’re working on that.”

  “And how long are you going to keep me waiting?”

  Riles saw the look of satisfaction on CIA Director Frank Rheiner’s face at the machine-gun questions the president was directing at Riles. Not really surprising considering Rheiner had been on the receiving end of just such an exchange during the Kazakhstan incident six months ago. Riles had embarrassed Rheiner then, so this had to feel pretty darn good.

  “As I mentioned earlier, my top computer scientist and a team of cyber-forensic specialists are on their way to San Francisco right now. I don’t expect to be able to give you a definitive answer until they have examined the affected equipment. In the meantime, our cyber-warfare group is working the problem from Fort Meade.”

  “I want to know who you think is behind this.”

  Riles hesitated, debating just what he could reveal that wouldn’t compromise his ghost team.

  “We believe that this may be related to last week’s kidnapping of our top cyber-warrior, Jamal Glover. If that’s true, the Chinese government may be behind this.”

  Bill Hammond, the FBI director, inserted himself into the conversation, his full head of dark hair making him stand out from the other cabinet members arrayed on either side of the president. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but Admiral Riles is way off base on this.”

  “Okay, Bill. I’m listening,” said President Harris, rubbing a hand through his hair.

  “The FBI has gathered extensive evidence indicating that Jamal Glover killed his live-in girlfriend before attempting to flee the country from Miami. I believe it is highly likely that Glover is the source of this attack and that he is trying to divert our attention in order to facilitate his escape from the country. Not only does he possess the required skills, it provides a possible explanation for the timing of the attack. Glover wasn’t trying to kill a bunch of innocent people; he just wanted to focus all of our efforts on the opposite coast.”

  Riles had to admit that it was a good argument, one that he couldn’t refute without compromising his ongoing efforts to recover Jamal. Since he currently had no hard evidence to support his position, Riles maintained his silence as the president turned his attention to the secretary of homeland security.

  “Gary, what’s the DHS assessment?”

  “I have to agree with Director Hammond on the probable cause. I spoke with Mayor Cummins an hour ago and she couldn’t give me an estimate of how long it is going to take to restore city services. Apparently the sudden shutdown of the power grid caused significant damage to several electrical substations along with an unknown number of blown transformers. As for water and communications, they can’t be fully restored until they have power.”

  “Does she need anything from us?”

  “She said she’d be submitting a detailed request through the governor’s office once the local experts have fully assessed the situation. Since it’s still dark on the West Coast, I don’t expect that until this afternoon. Meanwhile, I’ve ordered the mobilization of an emergency task force to investigate and provide assistance where needed.”

  President Harris nodded, then returned his gaze to his FBI director. “Okay, Bill, I want you to find Jamal Glover and figure out who he’s working for. As of now, that’s your priority.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The president redirected his attention to his NSA director with a hawk-like look on his face.

  “We take a lot of heat for the NSA knowing everyone’s business. I’m not happy that this isn’t the case in this instance. Admiral Riles, as the head of Cyber Command, I expect your people to figure this out. If you need operational support from DHS or any other agency to take these people down, just say so and you’ll get it. You’re my point man on this.”

  “I understand, Mr. President,” Riles said.

  President Harris stood, as did the others at the table. “Okay then, we’re done here.”

  As he made his way out of the White House and back to his sedan, Admiral Riles set his jaw. He, too, wanted answers and, by God, someone was going to get them for him.

  CHAPTER 44

  After taking the opportunity to clean up, Jack took the first watch. It hadn’t felt right to dress himself from the clothes in Paul’s duffel, but since they were roughly his size, Spider had made the decision and Jack couldn’t argue with it.

  Perhaps more than anyone else on the team, Jack needed sleep. But after his lucid dream experience, he feared it. So he had volunteered for the watch, and nobody ever argued with an idiot who volunteers.

  Jack stepped out onto the front steps, dimly aware of the weight of the Glock in his holster. It was a reliable weapon and since he’d left his HK P30S on a San Francisco street, he was happy to have it.

  The dirt lane that led to the front of the farmhouse disappeared around a copse of trees fifty yards from the house. Located in a secluded draw in the rolling hills of Contra Costa County, the house was shielded from view of the highway, although Jack could hear the sound of distant cars echo through the canyon as the morning commuters made their way to work.

  Jack entered a walking path that led around the side of the house and onto the sparsely wooded, south-facing hillside that rose up behind it. A short time later, the trail reached a rocky outcropping that provided an excellent view of the surrounding area, and Jack seated himself atop it, feeling the warm morning sun caress his face as he studied the valley below.

  As safe houses went, this one had the advantage of relative isolation from the prying eyes of nosy neighbors. Normally they wouldn’t have bothered posting a watch, relying instead on electronic surveillance to warn of intruders. But given the demonstration of power the team’s enemies had provided last night, their trust in electronic surveillance mechanisms had suffered a severe setback. Although it was unlikely that this safe house had been compromised, they couldn’t count on its
continued security.

  Jack felt the movement without catching sight of it, a subtle wrongness from the woods he’d just left. Drawing the Glock, he slipped from his perch and moved back into the wood line, entering at a point twenty yards above the spot where he’d emerged only minutes before.

  Then, with stealth born from years of hard experience, Jack melted into the woods.

  CHAPTER 45

  No matter how she tried to let go, sleep refused to claim Janet. So, after a restless half hour of tossing and turning, movements that increased the pounding from the knot on the back of her head, Janet gave up. It wasn’t pain that was robbing her of sleep; it was raw anger, not at Jack, but at herself. Jack Gregory was the most interesting and exciting man she’d ever met. And yes, he scared the hell out of her. But last night had shown Janet that, despite what she’d been telling herself, she wasn’t scared that Jack’s lack of self-control would get the whole team killed. Hell, if not for Jack’s craziness, the whole team would be dead right now.

  Since she’d watched Jack blindly stroll through that dark Bolivian cavern, Janet had feared that he was determined to get himself killed. So for the last two months, instead of trying to help Jack work through whatever inner demons plagued him, she’d used every opportunity to push him as far away from her as possible.

  Now Janet saw the impact of her actions. All she’d managed to accomplish in the last two months was to place Jack at even greater risk. In fact, it was Janet’s insistence that he be kept off the team that had almost gotten everyone killed. It was as if she’d made herself into a completely different person. And now that Janet had finally taken a long look in the mirror, she didn’t like what stared back at her.

  Janet climbed out of bed, dressed, and pinned her hair in a tight bun with a six-inch hair needle. It was time to eat some crow and set things right. But first she had some questions for Jack, questions that she was determined to make him answer.

  When she stepped outside, Jack was nowhere to be seen, but she spotted fresh boot tracks in the dusty trail that led around the side of the house and up the hill into the woods. An apex predator, it was Jack’s nature to seek solitude in dense woods or on high ground.

  Janet shoved all the self-critical, self-indulgent thoughts from her mind and followed that trail. The morning sun was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and when she stepped into the copse of trees it dappled her skin through the overhanging branches. She released herself to the feel of these woods, to the warm morning breeze that carried the scent of pine, to the well-oiled gun barrel pressed against her temple.

  The déjà vu moment was too perfect to ignore and she stepped into a past only nine months distant, feeling a warm smile crease her lips.

  “Hello, Jack. Janet Price, NSA.”

  His laugh was a tired one, a stifled harrumph that rapidly grew into something more, an uncontrolled outburst of hilarity that sagged Jack’s body back against the nearest tree, his legs no longer capable of bearing his weight as he sank to the ground. And when she turned to look at him seated there, tears of mirth running down his cheeks, Janet saw the Jack she’d been missing. Dear God, she’d thought she had lost him.

  CHAPTER 46

  “Hello, Jack. Janet Price, NSA.”

  The words rolled off Janet’s lips in a perfect rendition of the first words she’d ever said to Jack, on another occasion when he’d held a gun to her head. It was the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard.

  Though he tried to contain it, the laugh rumbled from his gut and escaped his lips. Suddenly, it was as if all the stored-up emotion from when Janet had turned her back on him in Miami found an outlet in that laughter and, once the river of mirth burst its banks, Jack found himself quite incapable of shutting it off. His body shook with laughter that robbed him of strength, and when he leaned back against the nearest tree trunk, Jack found even that could not support him.

  Sliding down the rough trunk, he felt his butt hit the ground hard enough to be painful, and still he couldn’t stop laughing. His tear-blurred eyes wandered up Janet’s lithe body as she stood, hands on hips, staring down at him with just a hint of a smile twitching the corners of her mouth and crinkling the corners of her brown eyes.

  “Are you done?” Janet asked as he gasped for breath.

  “Jesus,” Jack managed, “never do that again.”

  “What?”

  “Make me lose my mind.”

  “Apparently it’s not hard to do,” she said, offering him her hand.

  Jack holstered his Glock, grasped her right hand, and climbed back to his feet. Releasing her hand, Jack wiped the tears from his cheeks and then turned to study Janet’s face. Something had changed in the way she looked at him. Although it was probably a temporary reprieve, he saw none of the suspicion or doubt that Bolivia had placed there.

  “Why did you follow me?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d relieve you.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “Seriously, Jack, you look like shit,” Janet said, her eyes narrowing. “When was the last time you slept?”

  Jack considered lying, but she’d see through it. “Sunday.”

  “Four days?”

  Jack shrugged. When he didn’t respond, Janet continued.

  “If you’re dead set on killing yourself, I’ll stand watch with you.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Not asking.”

  Jack stared at her and Janet stared right back. God he loved the danger in that gaze. Not that he was going to admit it.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Turning away, Jack walked back to the rocky outcropping he’d previously chosen for his lookout. When Janet stepped up beside him, he seated himself and leaned back against a boulder, feeling the sun’s rays warm his face. An arm’s length away, Janet stood looking down at him.

  “Mind telling me why you’re scared to go to sleep?” she asked.

  Here we go, Jack thought. “Like I said, I’ve been a little busy.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “You know what? Since you’re here, I think I will close my eyes for a few minutes.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Jack closed his eyes.

  “Jack!”

  The funny thing was, having allowed them to close, he couldn’t seem to raise his eyelids again. He heard Janet raise her voice, but something about her presence and the feel of the sun-warmed rock against his back soothed him. And as it did, Janet’s voice faded away.

  CHAPTER 47

  The fog-shrouded nineteenth-century London alley had a familiar feel, although this was only the third time Jack had been here. On neither of the previous instances had he been alone. Four days ago he’d known he was dreaming and today was no different, but today he didn’t hesitate to follow the dark figure that turned away from him. As the cowled man stepped toward a green door into a building on the right side of the alley, Jack increased his pace, reaching the door as the other figure disappeared through the seemingly solid object.

  With a mixture of reluctance and determination, Jack reached for the door, not surprised when his hand passed effortlessly through, as if it was a magical hologram. But this was only a dream and nothing here could hurt him, so he stepped through the ghostly portal and into the night. He stood on a steep mountain slope, staring at the orange glow from the fire that roared up a distant hillside, sending sheets of flame swirling skyward, propelled by the heat-generated updraft.

  Closer at hand, a group of heavily armed men took shelter behind rocks as a distant rifle shot echoed through the canyon. One of the men tumbled backward, his own rifle clattering down the mountainside as his lifeless body came to rest faceup, revealing a bloody hole where an eyeball had once been. And clearly visible on the dead man’s chest, illuminated by the distant flames, was the familiar yellow stencil: FBI.

  Anoth
er gunshot split the night and another of the agents fell, his fellow officers returning fire wildly, though they clearly had no precise idea where the shots had come from. But Jack knew and he moved in that direction, the difficult slope offering him no more resistance than a stroll through the park. Another shot rang out from the pines on the slope directly above his position and Jack increased his pace, desperate to see who was busy murdering a bunch of federal law enforcement officers. Clearly, this shooter had no intention of melting silently away. This was an assassin bent on finishing what he had started.

  As Jack skirted a deadfall, the prone sniper fired again and as he shifted to acquire his next target, Jack saw the familiar red glint in the shooter’s eyes and froze. Standing ten feet away, Jack found himself staring into his own face, a face that held no hint of mercy.

  A movement from deeper in the woods attracted Jack’s gaze and he saw the hooded figure from the alley move away from him. He had no doubt that it was the same being he had first encountered while his real body lay dead in that Calcutta clinic. It had called itself a name. Anchanchu.

  Or maybe that name had come to him in another dream memory. Jack was no longer sure. But he was sure that this dream was no memory. And he was sure that he wanted to force some answers from the figure disappearing into those woods.

  “Anchanchu!”

  Jack’s yell echoed through the canyon, blending with the distant gunfire from the FBI and the much louder report from the other Jack’s rifle. But the cowled man did not slow.

  Jack raced up the slope and into the forest where he had seen Anchanchu disappear. But in the deeper darkness of those woods, there was no sign of the one he pursued. Without pause, Jack plunged onward, mildly amazed that no tree limbs scratched him. Nor did the mad dash up the mountainside tire him.