‘That sounds harmless enough,’ said Chris.
‘It is the
may not act
part that has caused the problem and that is why our agency exists, or rather,
doesn’t
exist. We profile and track terrorist suspects and, in the cases where there is sufficient evidence, eliminate the terrorist threat.’
‘Are you saying you kill people?’ said Chris.
‘We protect American citizens by neutralizing the enemy combatants.’
‘It sounds to me like you kill people,’ said Wyn. ‘What say you Chris?’
Chris nodded. ‘Was Jasmine Allan a terrorist suspect?’ he asked.
Joshua took the question calmly. ‘What happened to Jasmine was an accident and once all the facts are known, I’m sure you will understand.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Chris.
‘I’m not the enemy Chris.’
‘You may not be the enemy, but you don’t seem too friendly either. Keep going.’
‘Since the NSA traditionally operates without direct action, our work needs to be covert. We do not have field agents. Instead we have developed a technological solution that means we can take action through unmanned aerial vehicles or drones.’
Joshua stood and walked to his desk. ‘Mr. Spicer, you are a trained sniper are you not?’
Wyn looked startled. ‘Hey leave me out of this,’ he said, ‘I’m only here for beer.’
‘Snipers represent the ultimate weapon on the battlefield. They are able to take out specific targets from a great distance which often means without detection or fear of capture. Do you know what the longest range sniper kill is?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Chris, ‘fifteen-hundred yards? Maybe a mile?’
‘The record for longest range sniper kill was set in Afghanistan at a distance of a little over one and a half miles. What would you say if I told you our UAVs can make kills from two miles away, and we haven’t begun to find the limit.’
‘That’s insane,’ said Chris. ‘At that distance, how the hell can you avoid collateral damage?’
‘That’s where you come in Chris. The facial recognition software you have created is unparalleled. We have cameras that can count the pimples on your ass from space, it shouldn’t be surprising that we can get high resolution images at that distance. Your facial recognition software means we can be 99.999% certain we have the correct target.’
‘So that explains the .50 caliber round that blew Jasmine’s brains out but how can you call it an accident if your accuracy is so high?’
Joshua looked down at his desk. Chris wondered if he was having difficulty meeting his gaze, or maybe he was feeling remorse.
‘Chris, I am genuinely sorry for what happened to Jasmine. Her death was a tragic accident. The source code you and Jasmine developed has been incorporated directly into the UAV command software. It’s still at an early prototype stage. Somehow Jasmine found that we were taking your software, I still don’t know how. We believe that she must have been attempting to prove the software was yours and she loaded an image of herself into the target recognition routine.’
Chris thought back to the words that displayed in the results of the program Jasmine had ran “SUBJECT CONFIRMED”.
Jesus. She’d signed her own execution warrant. She’d uploaded her image to software thinking it would show the software was based upon her code, and instead she’d condemned herself to death.
‘You must understand,’ said Joshua, ‘we never could have anticipated something like this would happen. We’ve built all manner of fail-safes into the software so this cannot possibly happen again. I really am very sorry.’
Chris looked up and his eyes met Joshua’s. ‘So you killed her,’ he said, ‘and you stood by waiting for me to take the fall? How could you do that? You ruined my life for Christ’s sake.’
‘It wasn’t like that Chris. We’re a black organization. We don’t exist. I couldn’t come forward about this, but believe me we did everything we could to make this go away. We hadn’t counted on there being an extraordinary number of coincidences that made it look like you had actually committed that crime. How many people have a Mark XIX Desert Eagle chambered for .50 caliber rounds? It was unfortunate that you accessed your gun around the time of Jasmine’s death. We worked hard to point the police away from you, believe me.’
Chris was quiet again. He looked at Wyn. Wyn shrugged a gesture that seemed to say,
shit happens
, in a way that only Wyn could.
‘So what now?’ said Chris.
‘Now you are in on our secret, and it’s a very big secret, I’m hoping you will continue to work with us and help us to finish our prototype.’
‘And if I decide not to?’ asked Chris.
‘Then, we have a problem.’
The case files Ben had requested had all been digitally copied and sent through to Ben as email attachments. It sure beat having to wait for boxes of documents to be delivered but Ben still preferred reading from paper to staring at a computer screen. He was tempted to print it all out, but deep down he knew it would be a waste; this case was going nowhere. He would give everything one read through and see if anything jumped out at him.
He took the cases in the order they had arrived in his inbox which meant he was looking at the Russian woman first. The case notes didn’t tell him anything new but he had made a deal with himself to see this through. He continued reading, making notes of people that he would like to interview for more information but he knew there would be no interviews, no follow up investigations. The chief was already on his ass about this case and he had an in tray that was rapidly growing, there would be no budget for trips to other states for interviews and follow ups.
He finished the last of the files for Taryn Krist, the Russian immigrant killed in Chicago and was about to open the case notes for Robert Sereno, the LA murder, when his phone rang.
‘Detective Naylor,’ he said.
‘Hello stranger,’ came the voice. It was Margot. ‘A girl could grow old waiting for you to arrange a second date.’
‘I know, I’ve been meaning to call you, it’s this case. To be honest I’m about to throw in the towel, unless you’ve got a breakthrough for me?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ she said. ‘I think you’re working too hard. How about dinner at my place tonight? I’ll help you to relax. Who knows, that may be all you need to help see the light.’
Ben laughed. ‘Do you know Margot, I think it’s going to take a small miracle to see the light on this one, but I like the sound of dinner at your place. What time?’
‘Be here at eight. I’m cooking rack of lamb, so bring red wine will you?’
‘Sure thing, see you later.’
Ben went back to the files and read some more. Nothing. He opened the last set of files on Antoine Joubert, the French diamond trader and half read and half skimmed through them.
This is bullshit
, he thought to himself. He put all of the case notes together with a covering message and forwarded them on to his contact at the FBI.
Someone else’s problem now
.
He locked his PC and decided to go and choose a nice bottle of wine and grab a shave and shower.
To hell with this case
, he thought,
I’m done
.
Chris didn’t take long weighing up the offer. There were times in life when the world presents a no-win situation and, being a smart man, he knew that even though he
appeared
to have been given a choice as to whether he would work with Joshua, there was only one possible answer. Joshua was doing something that could never see the light of day and Chris knew that he and his associates would do anything to stop that.
‘Whilst I’m not sure I fully agree with your methods, I want in. I want to make sure that your systems are fool-proof and that there can be no more accidents.’
Joshua’s smile was broad. ‘Excellent Chris. I knew you’d make the right choice. You’ll be part of a revolution in homeland security that will eradicate the terrorist threat. The potency of our system is unparalleled.’
‘And what about you Mr. Spicer? Can we trust your discretion?’
Wyn smiled. ‘As you probably know, I’ve worked in a lot of jobs where I’m required to keep my mouth shut. I can keep your secret.’
‘Very well. Gentlemen, it seems as though we have reached an accord.’
Chris and Wyn returned to their car and drove back to Chris’s house. Wyn was the first to break the somber silence.
‘So, what are you going to do Chris?’
‘I’m going to work for Joshua and do the best job I can. I’m hoping I’ll keep myself and those I love alive long enough to think of a way of getting out of this mess.’
‘Shit,’ said Wyn. ‘I don’t think I’m going to feel safe again. I’d consider plastic surgery, except I couldn’t get any better looking.’
‘Listen,’ said Chris. ‘I don’t want Michelle to know about this. There’s nothing she can do about it and I don’t want her to worry.’
‘Now I’m upset,’ said Wyn. ‘I was so looking forward to the conversation that started with Michelle asking how your day went.’
Wyn was smiling his big stupid Welsh grin and Chris couldn’t help but laugh. They arrived at the house and Chris unlocked the door. They were met by the most amazing aroma. Michelle had made dinner and it smelt good.
‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ shouted Chris.
Michelle came through and flung her arms around Chris and kissed him hard.
‘I’ve missed you today,’ she said. ‘How was your day?’
She looked at Wyn who was standing back a little and grinning, his eyebrows were slightly raised in expectation as though he was waiting for something to happen.
‘Oh I’m sorry,’ said Michelle, ‘I’m being rude; you must be Wyn? I’m Michelle. Welcome to our home, come in. I’ve made up the spare room for you and I’ve cooked dinner. I hope you like casserole; I didn’t know how long you’d be.’
Michelle noticed Wyn seemed a little disappointed, but he continued to smile and said, ‘Thanks Michelle, if it’s OK I’ll just go and wash up.’
Chris showed Wyn to his room. ‘You did well,’ Chris said.
‘Thanks,’ said Wyn. ‘I’m trying.’
‘Yes you are.’
Ben had bought a nice bottle of merlot from Schneider’s of Capital Hill although their extensive choice made his selection frustrating and he’d ended up telling a clerk how much he wanted to spend and to get him something that made him look like he had good taste. He’d washed his hands of the case, but it still bothered him like a splinter. Ben was not used to failure. Sure there had been times when he’d had no choice but to give up on a case, but that didn’t mean it got any easier.
He parked his car and walked a half block to Margot’s brownstone town house. Margot greeted him at the door. No little black dress tonight, though she still looked good in jeans and a sweater.
‘So how are you feeling Mr. Detective?’ said Margot, ‘Have you cracked the case yet?’
‘No, but I’ve done the next best thing: I’ve given up.’
‘Why do I think you’re not the kind of guy that gives up easily?’
Ben followed Margot through to the kitchen and opened the wine. ‘I hope you like merlot?’ he said.
‘Love it.’
Margot held her glass out for a toast. ‘To giving up,’ she said.
They clinked glasses and drank their toast.
‘Do you want to know the worst part?’ asked Ben. ‘I actually thought going over those other unsolved cases would give me the spark of inspiration I needed. It works like that sometimes. You think you’ve hit a dead end and then after changing your perspective, some new avenues open up.’
‘Excuse me?’ said Margot. ‘I think I missed something. What other cases?’
Ben realized he hadn’t told Margot about the other cases. He got on so well with Margot that for some reason he’d thought she was more in touch with what was happening with his life than she actually was.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘let me back up a bit.’
Margot put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m about to serve dinner,’ she said, ‘hold that thought and you can tell me all about it when we eat.’
The food looked impressive. ‘When did an army major find time to learn how to cook?’ asked Ben.