Rogue Faction Part 2: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book Three Page 6

  “I need your help,” Cyrus said finally. “But I know I won’t get your full cooperation unless I have your trust. The only realistic chance I have to gain that, as far as I can tell, is if I let you complete the procedure.”

  The series of expressions that crossed Voss’s face were everything Cyrus would’ve expected given the situation. Voss opened his mouth to speak more than once, only to stop before uttering a single word. He was clearly puzzled, concerned, and likely more than a little surprised.

  “I have the strong sense that I can take you at your word,” Cyrus explained. “So I need a promise on a very specific agreement. If I consent to this, it is critical that no one other than you ever be allowed to play back my memories. Secondly, the recording must be destroyed once you’ve reviewed it.”

  Voss seemed puzzled by the fervor with which Cyrus insisted upon his points. Still, he willingly agreed.

  “There’s more,” Cyrus continued. “For reasons that will become clear once this is done, you can never speak of my cooperation in this procedure to anyone—ever.”

  “I can respect your need for privacy,” Voss offered by way of reassurance.

  Cyrus shook his head. “This isn’t a matter of privacy,” Cyrus warned. “This is a matter of safety and security. Yours and mine. If anyone ever learns of this, both of our lives will be forfeit.”

  The explanation clearly troubled Voss.

  “I’m not being dramatic,” Cyrus clarified. “You need to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into. You’re right, I’m not who I claim to be. But we’ve reached the point where I need your help to keep you and your family safe, and this is the only way I can convince you of my intentions.”

  Voss stared at Cyrus, clearly unsure how to respond.

  “Honestly,” Cyrus explained. “I’m here to help. But things have spun out of control and I can’t sort this out on my own—certainly not with the level of security you have running around here. So I need your help. This is the only way to make that happen.”

  “Well, it seems you’ve left me with no choice in the matter,” Voss said at last. “Curiosity alone compels me to see the procedure through.”

  With a grimace, Cyrus sat back once more. He ran his hand through his hair and considered how to explain the last part of his problem.

  “I need to warn you,” Cyrus said. “If this procedure works the way you say, you’re going to experience some things that aren’t going to be easy for you…on a personal level. I…,”

  Floundering, Cyrus really didn’t know what to say. He felt like he should give Voss some kind of heads-up in regards to his past relationship with Natasha. Particularly if his technology was about to expose the man to the feelings Cyrus had for her—not to mention their past intimate experiences. Seeing her again had brought back a torrent of memories and emotions, some of which were explicit enough to thoroughly traumatize the girl’s father.

  And that was nothing compared to what Cyrus had dug up relating to the death of Voss’s wife. In researching the case, he’d studied the murder of Eleanor Voss in explicit detail—more detail than an already grieving husband would ever want, or need, to revisit.

  The one saving grace had been Cyrus’s knowledge of the Coalition. To a large degree, he had compartmentalized his thoughts of the organization since the start of the operation. Part of that was simply his need to stay focused, but largely it was the result of prudent planning. He knew the sort of research Voss was conducting, and one of his potential approaches involved volunteering as a research subject. His photographic memory had the potential to make him a valued test case and one Voss was likely to be interested in. So, aside from a few phone numbers and contact protocols, Cyrus didn’t think he’d be exposing much of the Coalition’s sensitive information. Besides, if Voss kept his end of the bargain, those secrets wouldn’t matter.

  “I mean they won’t be easy for you to deal with as a father and a husband,” Cyrus concluded.

  Voss’s face blanched. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means that reading minds is a noble endeavor, but you’re going to find that it’s messy business.” Cyrus didn’t like being cagey, but he knew that nothing he could say would fully prepare Voss for what he was about to experience.

  “Why don’t you talk with Natasha before the procedure,” Cyrus suggested as an afterthought. “Explain to her what you’re about to do and see what she has to say.”

  Voss looked anything but comfortable at the thought.

  “What is it?” Cyrus asked.

  “She won’t be happy,” Voss admitted. “She doesn’t know the tagging solution was added to the antibiotic injection she’s been administering.”

  Cyrus smirked. “All the more reason for the two of you to talk.”

  Chapter 8

  The Voss Compound

  12:08 pm

  Cyrus was still in his room lying on the bed when one of the guards let Natasha though the door. She crossed the room quickly and stood over him.

  “You have to believe me,” she began. “I had no idea he was using the tag on you.”

  Based on the troubled, near frantic look on her face, he had no doubt that was the absolute truth. Plus, Voss had been very specific about that particular detail. “It’s okay.” He pulled himself into a sitting position. “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do!” she insisted.

  Turning to the pair of guards at the door, Natasha cast a stare that could’ve withered a stone statue. Thankfully, Wagner was once more on duty. He raised a placating hand in an effort to ward of the verbal attack that was sure to follow.

  Motioning to his counterpart, Wagner pointed to the hallway. The other guard looked confused. “Don’t ask,” Wagner muttered, as they crossed the threshold and left Natasha and Cyrus alone.

  “Neat trick,” Cyrus grinned. “You’ve got them trained. I think they’re afraid of you.”

  “This isn’t funny,” she snapped. “Father said he isn’t making you go through with this, but you’ve agreed to the procedure anyway. You clearly don’t understand how the process works.”

  Swallowing a deep sigh, Cyrus asked her to have a seat. She was reluctant, clearly wired with far too much anxious energy to sit. But he insisted, and she finally acquiesced.

  “Thanks to all the security here, I haven’t been able to explain what’s going on. Things really have changed since we were in school.”

  “No kidding,” she growled; her tone was increasing in anger. “Starting with your name?”

  He knew that the barbed comment was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

  “Were you ever actually in witness protection?”

  He shrugged. It should’ve been a yes or no answer, but the truth was more complicated. “I was headed that direction,” he explained. “Until I realized the FBI would never be able to clean up the entire mess. I would always be looking over my shoulder. With that in mind, I took a different path. It wasn’t really witness protection. That’s a defensive strategy. I met some people who helped me become a lot more proactive. We approached the situation more offensively.”

  She shook her head. “What does that mean?”

  He met her eye with a purposeful stare. “It means, rather than wait for them to come after me, I chose to go after them.”

  Judging by the look she returned, she still didn’t understand.

  “Before I went into protection, I was approached by someone. He represented a branch of federal law enforcement that specialized in working between legal lines. Someone in their group had been monitoring my case. He saw the situation I was in and how I’d gotten there. The day before I was supposed to meet with U.S. Marshals for relocation, I met with representatives from that group and came to a different arrangement. Rather than going into hiding, the group agreed to use its resources and help me solve my problem. In return, I had to help them solve a problem their organization was dealing with. In a lot of ways the problems were intertwined.

>   “Anyway, a long story short, Cyrus Cooper was born that day. Instead of living in some obscure corner of the United States—always looking over my shoulder—I ended up with a job that lets me do good and keep people from getting into the sort of trouble I’d gotten myself into.”

  Even as he was explaining it, Cyrus realized his words sounded similar to the recruitment speech Boone had given him back at the very beginning. At the time, it seemed like an easy choice. He had an opportunity to stop bad people from doing horrible things. But recent events were forcing him to reevaluate his situation. The borderlines between right and wrong—good and bad—were now blurrier than he’d ever believed possible. For the first time since taking a position with the Coalition, he could see himself leaving their ranks. Once he realized that he wasn’t being told the full story, or provided all necessary information, the doubts surrounding his work began to weigh heavily on him.

  “I don’t question that you did what you had to,” she said quietly. “I just wish things had turned out differently.”

  He felt the sadness in his own tired smile. “I do, too. More than you’ll ever know. But you really can’t let your father complete the procedure. Just let the tag expire; drop the subject.” He held her hand and offered a smile, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  “He’ll know who you are. He’ll know everything you’ve said, done, and thought since you arrived here.”

  “I understand,” he said softly.

  “I don’t think you do,” she insisted. “I don’t know about you, but seeing you again has brought back some powerful feelings…and some amazing memories.”

  He smiled. “Are you saying you still have feelings for me?”

  Natasha’s eyebrows arched and her jaw trembled as she stammered a response. “Pay attention!” she bellowed; socking him in the shoulder, she offered him a glare. “I’m talking about some…vivid, personal memories! Unless you’re a coldhearted bastard, you’ve been experiencing those old feelings, too.”

  A grin spread across Cyrus’s face. He was happy to hear she’d also been recollecting the old days. Though it wasn’t the point of her lecture, she still harbored some of the feelings she’d once had for him, and that brought a sense of hope and excitement that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  Still, the point she was making was valid. Unfortunately, it was one he’d already considered. The personal discomfort of the situation was simply outweighed by the danger of their present circumstances.

  “We’re talking about my father,” she reminded him.

  Trying hard to wipe the satisfied smile from his face, Cyrus did his best to explain. “I’m sorry. I know what you’re worried about, and you’re right. But, at this point, we don’t have a choice. Your father has this place so saturated with security that I can’t operate freely. I need access and autonomy in order to sort out who tried to kill you, me…even Gretchen. Someone’s after your father’s work and I can’t find out who’s behind it if there’s no trust.”

  “You think you’ll earn my father’s trust by going through with the procedure?”

  “I hope to,” Cyrus admitted. “I don’t see any other way. Call him whatever you want—security conscious, maybe paranoid? I can’t operate if I have to hide who I am and why I’m here. We’re beyond that now.”

  She gnashed her teeth, as her eyes bore into him. “I’m not sure I know who you are anymore. And I certainly don’t know why you’re here.”

  Natasha pushed herself off the bed and stalked across the room. At first Cyrus thought she was heading for the door…and maybe she was. But she altered course, perhaps thinking twice before leaving. She paced the far end of the room aggressively; white knuckled fists were clenched at her sides.

  Tempted to say something, Cyrus decided it was better to let her vent for the moment. He sat silently at the end of the bed and watched her stalk back and forth. In time, her rapid march slowed, becoming less charged.

  Finally she calmed, stopping her long march only a few feet away. Her gaze met his. There was no mistaking the pain in her eyes. He realized that, not only was all of this a shock to her, but it was emotionally devastating as well.

  “Why are you here?” she asked. Tears had already formed in the corners of her eyes. Though none had yet fallen, they weren’t far off.

  Sliding from the bed, Cyrus crossed to her in a single step. He pulled her into his arms. The moment her face pressed against his shoulder, he felt her shudder. Her tears broke free in earnest.

  “I came for you,” he whispered. “My group was going to send someone to monitor your father’s work. I made sure I was the one who was sent,” he explained. “But I don’t give a damn about the assignment. I took it because it meant being here, with you, right now.”

  He felt her arms wrap around his waist, and he held her tight…listening with both relief and guilt to the quiet sound of her sobs.

  Chapter 9

  The Voss Compound

  12:52 pm

  His wrists were secured with Velcro. Any restraint made him uncomfortable, but Voss explained that they would be extracting more than a week’s worth of information from his mind. It was more raw data than had been attempted to date, and he wasn’t sure what sort of physical reactions Cyrus’s body might have under those conditions. The restraints were there to keep him from hurting himself during the short procedure.

  Per Cyrus’s request, Natasha was on hand to observe. Aside from her and Voss, the lab was empty. Cyrus sat in an elaborate looking, semi-reclined chair. It looked like the sort of thing one would see in a dentist’s office…or a futuristic execution chamber. The chair had plush, comfortable padding but there were wrist and ankle restraints secured to its underlying steel frame. A small, wheeled, stainless steel cart sat beside a short stool located off to one side.

  “As I said, this is a very simple procedure,” Voss explained. He opened a small, metal case that was about the size of a shoebox. Inside was a custom cut foam liner cradling a pair of sleek goggles with opaque lenses. Taking them out, Voss placed them gently on the cart.

  “The goggles send a signal pulse into your eyes. It’s a sort of negotiation, at which time the software driving the system calibrates itself and makes hundreds of adjustments specific to your optical and neurological parameters. Each subject is different, so this calibration takes place every time the system is used. We’re essentially using the optic nerves as conduits for communication with the brain, so precise calibration is critical.

  “The calibration pulse lasts only a fraction of a second. The subject doesn’t even perceive the pulse. After that, all of the data is transmitted out of the brain along the optic nerves. The goggles receive the signal and translate it into a data stream that the computer can understand. The wire attached to the goggles transmits the data to a two hundred and fifty terabyte flash cluster where the data is captured,” he continued. “Though we will be pulling more than a week’s worth of experiences from your mind, the entire transfer process will take less than thirty seconds.”

  Cyrus’s jaw dropped. “Thirty seconds? And you’ll have everything that I’ve tasted, smelled, and thought in the last week?”

  Voss smiled proudly. “Yes. The technology is only in its infancy. In time, I’ll be able to extend the shelf life of the tagging solution as well as reduce the requirements of the hardware capturing the raw data. But none of that matters today. Per our agreement, I’ll be purging your imprint as soon as I’ve personally reviewed it.”

  Cyrus glanced at Natasha who was standing silently off to the side. She still looked profoundly uncomfortable with the arrangement. He couldn’t blame her. But then it was next to impossible for him to properly explain why all of this was necessary. It all came down to his need to convince her father, with one hundred percent conviction, that he could be trusted.

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?” Natasha asked in a dry husky voice.

  “Sorry,” he said softly. “It’s the only way.�
�

  “What about you?” she asked, putting her father on the spot.

  “You’ve both made it very clear that I will experience things that I will not find agreeable,” Voss said with great patience. “I’m willing to accept that. The truth is, this is exactly the sort of moral issue this technology will face when it goes into practical use. In that regard, perhaps this is an ideal experiment on multiple levels.”

  Cyrus smiled, offering his own nonverbal agreement. But from Natasha’s look, he could see she would never be convinced. It really wasn’t fair. This procedure was a major intrusion of her privacy, as well as his. She simply had no idea how much more Cyrus was risking with his participation. His circumstances were unprecedented. While he didn’t know what the Coalition would do if his participation came to light, he knew that the organization would act swiftly and decisively to mitigate any threat to its personnel, or its well-kept secrets. That fact represented a very real danger to Voss’s life, and perhaps Cyrus’s as well.

  Voss pulled a small data cable from the top of the metal cart. It wasn’t much thicker than a thread of yarn. He plugged the end of the line into a small port on the side of the goggles before slipping the eyewear over Cyrus’s head.

  “Is that comfortable?” Voss asked.

  “Just fine,” Cyrus confirmed.

  “Alright then,” the older man said with a weary smile. He looked to Natasha and she lowered the room’s overhead lights.

  Voss retrieved a small, handheld tablet computer from a shelf under the wheeled cart and began tapping on the screen.