Rogue Faction Part 2: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book Three Page 16

  Cyrus was shocked. If what she said was accurate, it meant that Boone hadn’t just faked his death, he’d used Hobbs’s body to do it. The callousness of the idea sent a chill down his spine. Still, from a strategic perspective, it was brilliant.

  “What about the other body?” Cyrus asked. He was legitimately afraid to ask.

  “Less conclusive, I’m afraid,” Monica admitted. “But no less convincing. The damaged remains of Mister Boone’s Zippo lighter were recovered in close proximity to the other body. There was also remodeling consistent with breaks to three ribs he broke on a mission two years ago.” She was silent for a long moment. “It was Boone,” she said, sadly.

  Silence stretched as Cyrus considered the information. He knew for a fact that Boone was alive. He’d seen him only a dozen hours earlier on the street outside the Voss compound. And while he didn’t know what was going on, Boone was obviously lying low. But he had provided a contact number; Cyrus had already decided that would be his next call.

  “You need to come in now,” Monica reiterated. The tone of her voice indicated she had once more reprised her role as the Red Queen. “We don’t know what’s going on out there, but someone has declared it open season on Coalition operatives. We’ve taken massive casualties. You need to get back here before you’re counted among them.”

  Cyrus grinned. This was the boss he was accustomed to dealing with. She said she was worried about him, but she was really more interested in saving face and limiting further damage to operations under her command.

  “Your concern for my wellbeing notwithstanding,” he said flatly. “I’m in the middle of this, and pulling me out now won’t solve the problem.”

  “Dammit, Cyrus—”

  “Don’t interrupt,” he interrupted while trying to keep a smile from showing through in his voice. “I’m the only asset you still have operational. Give me the resources I need and I’ll find out who’s behind this. Hell, I’ll bring their head back in a box. We’ve lost too many good men. Someone has to answer for this.”

  “I will not lose another agent,” the Red Queen literally snarled. “Request denied! Get your ass back here before you get yourself killed!”

  “I think you should reconsider,” Cyrus urged. His voice was confident and placid, as if speaking with a petulant child. “I’m not just talking about getting a leg up in this mess. I’m not stopping until I have the person responsible for all of it. If I pull it off, you save face and look like the hero. If I fail? What’s one more dead agent on top of the mess you’ve already got?”

  Cyrus had heard many different euphemisms regarding poking an angry bear. At that moment, every single one of them seemed appropriate. No words escaped the Red Queen, but Cyrus could hear her enraged breath as it tumbled across the distant phone’s microphone. In his three years at the Coalition, this was the most emotion he’d ever seen, or heard, the woman express. She sounded like a ravenous dog preparing to devour the telephone.

  It was a classic good and bad news situation, Cyrus realized. The bad news was that he wasn’t going to get his remote network access restored. Hell, he might not even have a job if he made it through the mission alive. But the good news outweighed the bad. He’d called the Red Queen on her top-secret personal line and woke her only to deliver news that had driven her into a frothy rage. Sure, his good news/bad news scale was a little off-kilter, but he was satisfied with the way it was balancing out.

  “You okay there, boss?” Cyrus asked when the breathing from the other end of the line began to dissipate. It had only lasted for seconds but in his mind it felt like an eternity.

  “You will be on the next plane back to the U.S.” Her demand was simple and unambiguous. She made no threats; she offered no room for argument. The moment she finished the statement, Cyrus realized that the line had gone dead.

  Setting the phone aside, Cyrus considered the conversation. It hadn’t started how he expected, but it had somehow managed to surpass his expectations before reaching a conclusion. He didn’t for a moment believe the Red Queen had any real concern for his safety. She was in “cover my ass mode” and thereby trying to limit damage to her own career while dealing with whatever mess had been made.

  For his part, Cyrus no longer cared about the original mission goals. Voss’s technology was brilliant and potentially dangerous in the wrong hands. But Cyrus was more concerned with the current threats to the Voss family, as well as to the agents of his own organization. Whoever was orchestrating the attacks was brutal and efficient, but they had somehow managed to devastate a force of experienced field operatives. Voss and his family remained safe in their stronghold and Voss’s work remained secure and unmolested.

  Cyrus intended to keep it that way.

  Tapping another number into the phone, the line was answered after a single ring.

  “Authenticate,” the voice on the other end demanded simply.

  “Don’t tell Scotty,” Cyrus responded without a second thought.

  There was an audible chuckle from the other end of the line. “Scotty doesn’t know,” the voice responded. Following a brief pause, the laughter burst over the line. “You can’t take anything seriously, can you, kid?” Boone said.

  They had used the improvised authentication system in the past. It was unique in that there was no predefined challenge or reply. The brief exchange was responsible for expressing the conditions under any circumstances. In this case, Cyrus’s instant reference to an old movie he’d once forced Boone to watch was proof enough that Cyrus was intact and not under duress. If he had been forced to make the call, he might have referenced a different film, book, or shared experience. It wouldn’t matter, so long as it instantly conveyed the present circumstances in a way that only the two of them would understand.

  “We’ve got a lot of good people dead,” Cyrus said with great sincerity. “I call that serious.”

  “You’re right about that,” Boone remarked, his voice shifting to a tone that was all business. “Still, it’s good to hear your voice. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see your face in that truck.”

  “You caught me off guard,” Cyrus admitted. “I heard the rest of your team was wiped out and you were missing.”

  “Missing and hopefully soon to be presumed dead. I left the burned out husk of an SUV behind with a body that, once crispy enough, should be taken for mine.”

  “They found it,” Cyrus confirmed. “And it looks like they’re falling for it. I just heard about it a minute ago, in fact.”

  “No kidding?”

  There was relief in Boone’s voice.

  “No disrespect, kid, but I’m surprised Monica decided to keep you in the field. I would’ve put money on her calling everyone back and circling the wagons. It’s more like her to cover her own ass.”

  “Huh,” Cyrus grunted. “That does seem more her style. Let’s just say she’s not entirely happy with me at the moment and leave it at that. But what about you? I’m not the one playing dead. What the hell are you up to?”

  It was Boone’s turn to grunt. “It’s complicated. Can we meet or do Voss’s security boys have you on lockdown?”

  “Actually, I’ve managed to cut my own parole. How about tonight? I’ll text you later with the location. I have a few things I need to deal with in the meantime.”

  Boone took a half second too long to respond. “Heh—yeah, that works. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “Me? Sure, just fine. Why?”

  Cyrus had to think. He felt like something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on the odd gut sensation. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem yourself. You’re not hurt? Can you make it till tonight?”

  “Absolutely, no problem. I’m in good shape. A little banged up from a couple of close calls along the way. It’s just…you know, this one’s been rough. I’ve lost too many damn people on this go round.”

  Cyrus knew how he felt. It was as if a dark cloud had been following th
e mission since the beginning. There was a stifling sense of foreboding that had permeated nearly every aspect of the mission.

  Still, it was worth it all for even the remote opportunity of rekindling his relationship with Natasha. The mission may have turned into a human meat grinder, but he would gladly suffer his personal hardships again for the opportunity to be near her. That was the one aspect of the mission that was going according to plan. And, he realized with an uncomfortable roiling in his gut, she was also the one part of his mission that had nothing to do with the Coalition. To date, every part of the operation that had been compromised had been specific to the original set of outlined objectives.

  Cyrus considered the twisted logic as he slipped the laptop into the backpack once more. He said goodbye to Boone and set out across the park. His eyes remained in constant motion, searching for any sign of surveillance. It seemed that, for once, he was actually alone. He couldn’t help wondering if that would still be the case if he’d left the compound through the front gates.

  Chapter 20

  Baltimore, Maryland

  4:48 am local time

  Charlie Greene sat at the edge of her bed. With her legs draped over the side, her feet were touching the cold, hardwood floor. She stared at the cell phone in her hand and struggled to decide if the belligerent call she’d just received was real or imagined. Her eyes moved slowly back and forth between the digital clock on her nightstand and the now dark and silent phone. The sun wasn’t even up and her boss had already called, ranting almost incoherently about security protocols.

  Security had always been of the utmost importance as far as Charlie was concerned. She wasn’t an operative, but she managed the logistics for every agent the Coalition had in the field and every operation underway. Her job might not offer the ‘cloak and dagger’ sex appeal of field ops, but without her department field agents simply couldn’t do their jobs. While some believed her department and staff to be little more than pencil-pushing computer jockeys, she knew they played a pivotal role in one of the country’s most effective—though secret—law enforcement organizations.

  So why had the Red Queen phoned before the crack of dawn to chastise her?

  A smile spread across Charlie’s face. The Red Queen. She’d heard the name used in reference to Monica Fichtner before. Only now did she fully understand the apt significance of the moniker. Since taking over as head of logistics, Charlie had only limited exposure to the Coalition’s Chief Officer. Her opinion to date was that Monica was aloof, but cordial. Of course, the day had yet to begin and she’d already seen a new side of the woman in charge.

  When the phone in her hand chimed, the shrill sound caught her off guard. She fumbled with the phone, finally snatching it from midair a moment before it hit the floor. The caller ID displayed text she’d never seen before. Rather than showing the calling number or even the customary number not available message, the display showed all zeros. After the earful she’d received with the last call, it was with more than a little trepidation that Charlie activated the line.

  “Hello?” she asked. The callow sheepishness of her own voice instantly frustrated her. She was made of sterner stuff. “Hello?” she asked once more, this time louder and with greater conviction.

  “Charlie?” A voice asked. “Charlie, its Cyrus Cooper. I’m sorry to call so early.”

  A sigh escaped Charlie’s lips and she smiled. Not only had she been holding her breath, but she was desperately afraid that the Red Queen would call back to continue her tirade. The fact that it was Cyrus was a relief. The fact that it was anyone other than the Red Queen was a relief.

  “Cyrus? Is everything alright?” They had never spoken outside of the office. In fact, they’d only ever met face-to-face the day of the Brainstorm Session. She recalled meeting him in the hallway prior to the meeting, and running into him once more later that afternoon. She also recalled feeling like a foolish teenager when she gave him her private mobile number, saying that he should call if he ever got into a bind and couldn’t reach help at the office. Even though she had regretted the clumsy overture the moment they’d separated, she was also powerless to undo her juvenile mistake. She never expected him to call. Certainly not now, with all that was happening.

  “Alright?” Cyrus asked as if he were trying to decide that for himself. “Yes and no. Ah, the truth is…I’m not sure.”

  “I’ve heard a little about what’s happened out there,” she said in an attempt to coax him along. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

  “No, nothing like that. I actually need your help. But it’s something I can’t really talk about on a company phone.”

  At first Charlie didn’t understand the implication. She was about to ask when the fog of her mind cleared and his subtext suddenly became clear. Her eyes went wide. “Oh, God,” she stammered. “I don’t think I’m the person you want to be talking with. I’m terrified just driving on the freeway—I can’t—”

  “Whoa—slow down, Charlie.” Cyrus’s voice was calm and reassuring. “I’m not calling about anything dangerous. I would never put you in that position.”

  Taking a deep breath, she felt her racing heart begin to calm. She was prone to overreacting in extreme situations. Still, it was an unorthodox situation and she knew that something wasn’t right.

  “That’s a relief,” she admitted. “I’m obviously not suited for the kind of work you do. I’m only talking on the phone and I feel panicked.”

  Cyrus laughed. His amusement was well-timed and broke the tension. He started to say something but stopped short.

  “You know what? I shouldn’t have called at all,” Cyrus decided. “I’ll find another way to sort this out. I’m sorry I woke you for nothing.”

  “Wait!” The word escaped her mouth before her mind had an opportunity to process it. “You might as well tell me the problem while I have you on the line. If I can help, I will. Besides, you didn’t wake me. I was already up.”

  “No kidding?” Cyrus went silent for a moment and Charlie guessed he was double-checking the time. “What is it, going on 5 am there? You’re up already? What are you, some kind of masochist?”

  “Only today,” she smiled. “I had a 4 am wake-up call from the Red Queen. She was furious! I’ve never heard her so angry.”

  As she said the words, an errant thought crossed her mind. She recalled hearing somewhere that Cyrus had been the one to christen the boss with the fitting moniker. She was about to ask him about it when he interrupted her train of thought.

  “She called you at home at 4 am?” He sounded stunned.

  “She was in a tizzy about remote network access rights. She wanted to know who could login, and from where.”

  Charlie considered the one-sided conversation once more. “You know, she actually didn’t ask many questions. She mostly just ranted. It was like she was blowing off steam or something.”

  When she was met with only silence from the other end of the line, she decided to continue.

  “So enough about my problems. Tell me about yours.”

  “I think you just had a taste of my problems, actually,” Cyrus admitted. “Monica must’ve called you as soon as she got off the line with me.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  Cyrus took a long, deep breath. She could tell he was deciding what he could, or maybe what he should say.

  “You can trust me,” Charlie urged.

  “It’s not that,” Cyrus said quietly. “It’s just like you said before, this is a little heavy. I think you’d sleep better not knowing anything about it.”

  It took Charlie a second to consider his words. The truth was that she was embarrassed by her earlier reaction, just as she’d been by the sound of her own voice when she answered the phone. “Tell me what’s going on, Cyrus. I want to help.”

  “You may change your mind, Charlie. But I appreciate your willingness to listen, just the same.”

  Cyrus took a moment to collect his thoug
hts before he began his explanation.

  “I don’t know what you know about my current operation. I’ve been working undercover at an R&D compound off the coast of Norway. It’s the mission we discussed in the Brainstorm Session before I left.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I recall the high level details—vaguely. My department arranged transit for you, and Agent Boone’s team. I thought you were heading to Paris?”

  “That’s right. Well, the mission has been a shambles. Agent Gladd and I were ambushed on the train between Paris and Hamburg. We dealt with the issue but it turned out that was only the start of our problems. Boone’s team was hit while moving to intercept an asset soon after that, at the University of Paris.”

  Suddenly, all of the hushed conversations she’d been hearing around the seventh and eighth floors made more sense. There was trouble in the field, and the ‘powers that be’ were struggling to deal with the situation.

  So why wasn’t my department looped in?

  “Cyrus, are you saying we lost men in the field?”

  “Yes.”

  “In Paris?”

  “Yes.”

  She was momentarily frozen, her mouth agape. “Wouldn’t standard protocol involve sending in some sort of backup?”

  “Absolutely. Without question.”

  A chill ran down Charlie’s spine. She felt the hand that was supporting the phone beside her face quiver, and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Cyrus? No one ever sent in a backup team.” Her voice was so quiet and weak that she almost couldn’t recognize it as her own.

  “You’re sure?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “Positive,” she confirmed. “My team would’ve been involved. Even if local resources were utilized, we would’ve organized transportation, housing, weapons, ammunition—the usual. I’m telling you, there was nothing. Why would that be?”