D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) (10 page)

The three of them huddled together in silence for a moment, as Jericho put the eye patch on and adjusted it for comfort. He cracked his neck and looked around, getting use to the sensation of it covering his eye. It was made of leather with a hardened outer surface, and consequently he was more aware of it than he had been about the bandages.

“So here’s the pitch,” said Josh. “All cards on the table. The coming days and weeks are going to be hard. The CIA is unofficially dedicating practically all of their resources to finding Adrian. And now they know
you’re
alive, they’ll be coming for you too. Whether you like it or not, Jericho, the president of the United States, with the CIA director’s help, orchestrated a terrorist attack on the entire world, covering it up and framing someone else beautifully. Adrian has all the evidence implicating them, which is why he’s a target. He’s working on a plan, but he needs our help running interference to buy him some time.”

Jericho paced away, resting again on the edge of the nearby table and crossing his arms. After speaking with Julius Jones, and having had CIA operatives come after him already, he was inclined to believe, no matter how difficult it might be, what Josh was telling him.

“How can I help?” he asked.

Josh took a step forward, standing next to Julie. “There’s a lot of work to be done,” he said. “Obviously, GlobaTech as a company is doing… well,
everything
, in an effort to help the people and the countries affected. We’re doing that publicly, and with President Cunningham’s official blessing—for what
that’s
worth. He hasn’t authorized foreign aid of any kind to assist our efforts, he’s simply playing the savior and saying the U.S. has the best resources, meaning us. Behind closed doors, however, we’re launching our own investigation into what
El Presidente
is doing in the aftermath of all this—how he intends to capitalize on his grand scheme coming to fruition. Whatever he’s got up his sleeve, I doubt we’re going to like it all that much, and the more we know, the better our chances of stopping him. That’s where you come in.”

“You want me to help investigate the president?” he asked.

Josh shook his head. “My plan is to put together a small team of exceptional soldiers, operating... quietly, shall we say, whose sole purpose is to stop any attempts the president makes to do whatever it is he’s trying to do.”

Jericho stood to his full height, tall and proud. “Count me in,” he said.

Josh smiled. “Excellent. Now, you need to remember something, Jericho: you’re not a soldier anymore. You’re not a CIA asset, you’re not in charge of the D.E.A.D. unit, and you’re not a member of the U.S. Armed Forces. Are we clear? You’re now an independent contractor. You don’t answer to anyone except me and Ryan Schultz. You’re a GlobaTech employee, and we’re a company, not an army. The sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll be, alright?”

Jericho nodded. He’d been a soldier of some kind his whole life. He’d always thought the private sector was for people who either couldn’t make it, or had retired. But looking around, listening to Josh, seeing what the world had become… GlobaTech was more than just a private military contractor—they were keeping the planet together, and were the only ones in a position to protect innocent people from what was coming—whatever that might be. How could he not want to be a part of that?

“When do we start, Josh?” he asked, smiling.

“Right now,” he replied. He stepped to one side, nodding to Julie. “Meet the other member of the team—Julie Fisher.”

She smiled and Jericho nodded once. “Figures,” he said. “Who else?”

“There’s another guy en route,” said Josh. “You’ll like him. For now, it’ll just be the three of you. I’ll be providing support from here for the time being, while I can.” He glanced at Julie. “Would you be so kind as to show Mr. Stone to his quarters?” He turned back to Jericho. “You can stay on base for now, if that suits?”

Jericho nodded. “Works for me. I don’t have a permanent residential address. I stayed on base with D.E.A.D, and before that I moved around different army bases ever since I was a kid, so I’ve never needed one.”

“Perfect. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting with Schultz. I’ll leave you both to it.” He flashed a smile at Julie as he left the room.

Julie watched him leave, and then turned to Jericho. “So, do you wanna buy a drink?”

He frowned. “It’s not even lunchtime…” he said.

She shook her head and laughed. “What’s your point?”

He thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “No point, I guess. But I think after everything, you owe
me
at least one beer!”

She laughed. “Dream on, big guy. First round’s on you.” She poked his shoulder and then walked off, leaving him standing alone in the room.

He looked around for a moment, and then headed for the door. He shook his head and smiled to himself. “Hope you know what you’re doing…” he whispered, walking out of the room and down the corridor, after Julie.

WASHINGTON, D.C, USA

April 20
th
, 2017

08:57 EDT

The black stretched limousine slowed to a stop outside the front doors of the White House. The driver got out and opened the rear door, holding it as Director Matthews climbed out, standing tall and straightening his military uniform, absently dusting his shoulders and feeling the four stars beneath his fingers.

He strode through the entrance, past security, and down the hall to the left, heading toward the West Wing. He had been summoned to a meeting with the president less than an hour ago, and he’d headed straight there from Langley.

The corridors were bustling with noise and activity, and as he walked through the building, almost everyone he passed stopped and stared.

He entered the West Wing, and was greeted by Gerald Heskith, the White House chief of staff. He was a short man, who looked older than he was—the wrong side of forty with some excess baggage on the waist. He’d been Cunningham’s main advisor throughout the campaign, and many would argue he was the main reason they won. Consequently, he was the obvious choice for the position.

“Tom, good of you to come so quickly,” said Heskith, extending his hand.

“Of course,” replied Matthews, shaking it firmly.

“Come on, he’s waiting for you.”

Matthews followed Heskith through the offices and into the waiting area outside the Oval Office.

“Can you please tell the president that CIA Director Matthews is here for him?” Heskith said to the receptionist. She nodded and picked up the phone, dialing an extension and briefly relaying the message.

“Go right in,” she said, hanging up.

Heskith walked in, and Matthews followed. He’d been inside the Oval Office many times before, but the sense of wonder and excitement never completely went away.

He closed the door behind him and turned to face the room. President Cunningham was alone, sitting behind the Resolute desk, pen in hand, signing some papers. He looked up as the men entered, smiled a politician’s smile, and stood.

“Tom, thanks for coming,” he said; his voice smooth and commanding.

He walked around the desk to greet Matthews, shaking his hand.

“Of course, Mr. President,” replied the CIA director.

“Take a seat, please,” said Cunningham, gesturing to one of the two cream, leather sofas positioned either side of the eagle on the navy carpet. He looked at Heskith. “That’ll be all, Gerry, thanks.”

Heskith nodded. “Thank you, Mr. President.” He turned and walked out of a door on the opposite side, closing it behind him.

“Can I get you a drink?” asked Cunningham. “Tea? Coffee? Something stronger? It’s never too early for friends, right?”

“Maybe a glass of water,” replied Matthews with little hesitation.

The president retrieved two crystal tumblers from the table next to him, and filled them from the matching decanter stood with them. He handed one to Matthews, and took a seat facing him.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he began. “I appreciate you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” replied Matthews. “Is everything alright?”

Cunningham took a sip of his drink before resting it on the table. He nodded and smiled. “Everything’s on track, yes. I think the initial shock of what’s happened is wearing off now, and the American people—indeed, people all around the
world
—are starting to look for answers. Look for what’s next.”

Matthews nodded, but remained silent. The president continued.

“You’ve done the cause a fantastic service these last twelve months, Tom. I know it’s not been easy—hell, in spite of everything, I think even
I
would’ve struggled actually pushing the button, y’know?” He smiled. “But you did a good job. The next phase is already underway. Work has begun to recalibrate Cerberus, and I’m working with the Joint Chiefs to prepare all branches of the armed forces for the transition.”

“That’s great news, Mr. President. So far, everything’s going according to plan.”

“Exactly. There’s a long way to go, but I’m confident we can all go down in history as the people who fixed the world. We just need to make sure everyone’s doing what they should be doing, and not what they shouldn’t.” He picked up his drink, taking another sip. “So let me ask you, Tom... what the fuck do you think you’re doing, exactly?”

Matthews was visibly taken aback by the president’s candidness. “Sir?”

“Maybe you’re tired... you’ve been through a lot recently, after all. Maybe that’s affecting your judgment?”

“I... I don’t understand, sir.”

“You need to let Julius handle any cleaning up exercises, Tom. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? Keep your distance—don’t put yourself in the spotlight. You can’t risk being linked to anything. Your involvement would raise questions that we don’t want asking.”

Matthews nodded slowly, taking a sip of his own. “I understand, Mr. President, I just wanted to ensure everything was done smoothly. There are—”

Cunningham held his hand up, smiling. “Tom, will you calm down... I’m in touch with Julius regarding this Adrian Hell fiasco, and apart from Jericho Stone, there’s nothing else tying any of us to what’s happened. Tell me, how is he even still alive, anyway?”

Matthews shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, Mr. President. I authorized Alpha Protocol, and his second in command put a bullet through his head.”

Cunningham nodded. “Sending a retrieval team after him was sloppy, and it backfired. Is Stone going to be a problem?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Good.” He stood, placing his drink on the table between them. “For now, I’m happy letting GlobaTech do the heavy lifting for us with regard to providing foreign aid. Even if Stone is with them, they can’t do anything without us knowing.”

He stepped away, prompting Matthews to put his drink down and stand, sensing the meeting was over.

“Mr. President, anything I can do to help, I’m at your service,” he said.

“I know, Tom, thank you. For now, I need you to take a back seat, stay out of the limelight, and let other people handle things for us. Just for the time being.”

Matthews nodded. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

They shook hands, and Cunningham showed him to the door, holding it for him as he left, and shutting it behind him.

Standing in the reception area, Matthews let out a heavy sigh, composing himself. He then strode out of the room and headed back to his car.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA, USA

April 20
th
, 2017

10:15 EDT

Director Matthews’ car pulled up outside the entrance to the CIA headquarters. As it stopped, his door was opened, and he stepped out to find Julius Jones waiting for him.

“How did it go with the president?” asked Jones.

Matthews was in no mood for small talk. “It was fine,” he replied, sharply. “What are you doing here?”

Jones hesitated, sensing the director’s mood, but knew he had to update Matthews urgently, no matter the reaction.

“We... ah... have a couple of updates that you should be aware of,” he said, eventually.

Matthews grunted and set off walking through the entrance without so much as looking at him. Jones followed by his side. They passed through the security checkpoint and headed up to Matthews’ office in silence. Only when the door was closed and the Director was behind his desk, did he acknowledge what had been said.

“Are these updates good?” he asked. “Because I’m in no mood for anything else to go wrong.”

Jones frowned at the comment, but ignored it. “The first is good news,” he began. “We’ve located Daniel Vincent. He’s in Prague.”

“That
is
good news,” said Matthews, his expression changing; his tone lighter. “Send the D.E.A.D. unit at once to retrieve whatever information he’s got. And dispose of the body... properly, this time.”

“I will, but there’s another matter that needs addressing before that.” He took a seat opposite Matthews, crossing his legs and clasping his hands on his lap. “Chris Black made contact yesterday, voicing concerns he has regarding a member of his unit—Rick Santiago.”

“So?”

“Black suspected Santiago was up to something, and asked us to pull his system logs, which we did. It turns out, he hacked his way onto our secure network and played back the audio recording of the conversation where you introduce yourself and give Black the order to kill Jericho.”

Matthews froze for a moment, his jaw hanging loose with disbelief. Then he snapped out of it and slammed his fist on his desk. “How the fuck did he do that? That was a classified file.”

“Yes, director, I know it was. And the fact he was listening to it adds further weight to Black’s concerns about him. I think it might be wise to... re-evaluate his position on the team before we dispatch them to Prague.”

The room fell silent, and Matthews leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and bridging his fingers, lost in thought. After a few minutes of debating, he nodded his head.

“Kill him,” he said. “I want the sonofabitch deleted from history, do you understand me? I can’t afford to have anything else go wrong. Not now.”

Jones nodded back. “Of course, director. I’ll give the order.” He stood and left the room.

Once the door was closed, Matthews leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, sighing heavily. After a moment of silent reflection, he sat forward, opening the bottom drawer of his desk, by his right leg. He took out a bottle of scotch and a glass, and poured himself a generous measure. He held the glass in his hand, regarding the amber fluid with a mixture of lust and contempt.

“Goddammit.”

He emptied the glass in one deep mouthful, and then filled it again. He put the bottle away before opening another drawer on his left and taking out a file. He rested it in front of him and opened the cover, revealing a structural diagram of the Cerberus satellite, accompanied by a detailed,
Eyes Only
briefing on the next stage of the president’s plans, which outlined how he intended to reshape the world in the aftermath of 4/17.