D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) (4 page)

Jericho was standing by the window, squinting in the glare of the bright afternoon sun, as he looked down at hundreds of GlobaTech operatives all marching across the compound in groups, and massive trucks navigating the small network of roads within the enclosed community, transporting weapons and technology between different buildings.

Behind him, Josh was sitting at the end of a conference table, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and his feet resting up on the desk.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he said, rhetorically.

Jericho looked over at him and shrugged. “Looks like any other military base,” he replied. “It’s just this one can do whatever it wants, I guess.”

Josh smiled. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? But while we might not answer to any colonels or the president here, we
do
have a board of directors, and a shitload of corporate sponsors, which, believe it or not, is actually much scarier.”

The door behind him opened, and another man walked in, dressed similarly to Josh—smart and casual, with a shirt tucked into his jeans. Jericho recognized him immediately, and didn’t understand at first why he was there.

The man extended his hand. “Jericho Stone,” he said, with a distinctive Texan drawl. “It’s damn good to see you back among the living, son. I’m—”

“Secretary Schultz,” interrupted Jericho, shaking his hand. “I didn’t expect to see you here...”

Schultz smiled. “Call me Ryan. I’ve not been the Secretary of Defense for a while now.” He gestured to one of the chairs around the table. “I’m lending a hand around here for the time being—God knows they need all the help they can get at the moment. Take a seat, son”

Jericho did, sitting with his back to the window, and nearest to the door. Old habits of planning your exit long before you needed it. He caught Josh staring at him, somewhat curiously, and frowned before looking at Schultz, who had taken a seat on the opposite side to him, near his colleague.

To his left, on the wall facing the table was a large TV screen with a camera mounted just above it for video conferencing. Apart from that and the table, the room was devoid of features or decoration.

Jericho glanced over his shoulder, out the window, as he heard a chopper flying low overhead. He saw it begin its descent, but couldn’t see from his seat where it actually landed.

He was impressed with the facilities, and found himself wondering why it looked so busy. He expected a fair amount of hustle and bustle as standard, but he thought all the activity outside seemed excessive.

Schultz leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and clasping his hands together, looking at Jericho. “Son, I’m just gonna get straight to it, because we’re short on time and long on problems.”

Jericho nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ve already said to your friend here,” he gestured to Josh, “if you lie to me, it’ll make me angry—which would be... unfortunate for everyone.”

“Would we not like you when you’re angry?” asked Josh, with a wry smile and deadpan expression.

Jericho glared at him, subconsciously tensing his considerable arm muscles, as he felt his frustration slowly giving way to anger.

Josh quickly held his hands up and chuckled. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “Sorry. It’s a force of habit.”

Jericho stared at him for a moment, and then took a deep breath, relaxing.

"What do you remember about what happened?” asked Schultz.

Jericho frowned as he fought to recall how the mission in Colombia went down. Vague silhouettes of memories floated around inside his mind, but everything remained stubbornly unclear.

“Nothing concrete,” he said, regrettably. “Just flashes.”

“Well, tell us what you
do
remember, and we’ll try to fill in the blanks,” added Josh.

Jericho tilted his head slightly, regarding each of the men in turn before his gaze settled on the British man. Josh Winters looked youthful, with his neatly styled short, blond hair, but his tired eyes betrayed his age.

“Sounds to me like you already know what happened... Who
are
you people?” he asked him. “Really?”

“I told you, we’re GlobaTech Industries—probably the biggest PMC in the world,” replied Josh.

“I know that, but why are you helping me?”

“Because you were left for dead by the people you worked for, and I can hazard a pretty good guess as to why. I personally thought it would be best all round if we could protect someone with your credentials.”

“What for?”

“Because my spider sense is telling me you’re one of the good guys, and that you want to do the right thing. I think we can help each other.”

“
Spider sense
?” he said, with mild disbelief. “What are you, five?”

Josh smiled. “It’s just one of my things. I like pop culture references—no situation is complete without one.”

“You’re a very strange man.”

“It’s been said,” he shrugged.

Jericho shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sitting up straighter, and massaging the base of his neck, which had started to ache. “I was on a mission...” he began. “A known terrorist had stolen a laptop from a CIA asset, and my unit and I were sent to capture him and retrieve the computer, and then… dispose of his body.”

“Was that your mission brief?” Josh asked. “That the man you were sent after was a terrorist?”

Jericho nodded, glazing over momentarily as he recalled segments of the conversation with the man in Colombia.

“He said he wasn’t,” he replied, frowning as more previously repressed details came flooding to the forefront of his mind as he spoke. “He said he was working for... for you.”

Josh nodded. “In a manner of speaking, yes, he was. Do you remember his name?”

Jericho let out a short breath. “Adrian Hell.”

“That’s right. So what exactly did your brief say about him?”

“Very little, from what I remember. Just that he was on the Terrorist Watch List, and he was a hitman.”

Josh nodded again. “Well, he is—sorry...
was
,
a hitman. He retired.”

“You know him?”

“He’s my best friend,” he said, without hesitation. “I used to work with him, handling his contracts and his finances.”

“What, and you went from running an assassin to working in the private sector?” Jericho asked; the shock and instinctive disdain evident in his voice.

“That’s right. That’s a long story for another day, but I can promise you one thing: he’s not a terrorist. Now, in the interest of time, let me summarize everything that’s happened for you. An organization tried to recruit Adrian to work for them. When he refused, they sent waves of people to kill him—and he sent them all back, dead.”

“What does that have to do with my mission?” asked Jericho, as a full-blown headache gradually took hold. He was struggling to understand what he was being told.

Schultz cleared his throat. “The man you were sent to capture
did
steal a laptop, but it wasn’t from a CIA asset, like your briefing said. It was, in fact, taken from a goddamn terrorist sonofabitch.”

“Nicely put,” said Josh, smiling. “Poetic, as always, Ryan.” He looked at Jericho. “The laptop contained information about a government satellite, codenamed Project: Cerberus. You heard of it?”

Jericho shrugged. “Only what was made public about it. It was a government-funded satellite designed to monitor all communications within the United States, to track any potential terrorist threat before it happened.”

Schultz nodded at Josh, and then looked at Jericho. “That’s right. Straight off the disclaimer... Now, you received a new order from your superiors, specifically telling you to ignore any new leads on the whereabouts of the laptop and kill Adrian, didn’t you?” he asked rhetorically.

Jericho nodded.

“Yet, you didn’t. Why?”

“It didn’t feel right,” he explained. “My gut was telling me to believe what your friend was saying, even though it made no sense. And when the order came through, it set alarm bells ringing, so I tried to find out more information. I don’t remember what he said, though.”

Josh pointed his finger at Jericho. “And
that’s
what got you all kinds of shot,” he said. “The CIA doesn’t like people who question things. They never have, and they never will.”

“Huh... how the fuck would
you
know?” he said, immediately cursing himself for inadvertently confirming he had ties to the CIA.

“Jericho, this is me being completely honest with you—full disclosure, all the cards on the table, et cetera. I know you ran the D.E.A.D. unit, which absolutely wasn’t, in any way, shape, or form, a deniable, clandestine unit, secretly funded by the CIA...”

Jericho clenched his fists, using the action to suppress both his anger, and his concern. “I don’t know—”

“What I’m talking about? Yes, you do. And I know you do, because I used to be a member of the same unit, albeit a little before your time. In fact, I was there when it was created, way back when. So was Adrian. He used to run it, just like you did.”

“That’s not possible. The briefing would’ve—”

“Mentioned that? No, it wouldn’t. We both know you guys don’t exist, in the same way we didn’t, back in the day—hence the name. Difference is, back when
we
were doing it, the world was a different place. Nowadays, you can’t trust anyone.”

Jericho took some deep breaths and tried to relax as he processed the influx of new information. He was confused, but his gut feeling was to believe what Josh was saying. He couldn’t think of a valid reason why anyone at GlobaTech would lie to him. They saved his life, nursed him back to health, and were de-briefing him with a surprising amount of openness and honesty.

“When you questioned the orders you were given at the time,” Schultz continued, “you pissed off your bosses at Langley, and they gave a member of your team authorization to take you out—which he effectively did.”

Jericho stared blankly at the surface of the table, his right eye glazing over as the words hung ominously in the silence. He clenched his fists again, thinking back to what happened in Colombia. Schultz’s revelation had prompted even more repressed memories to surge forward from obscurity.

He remembered talking to Adrian Hell, and receiving the kill order from Director Matthews himself. He then saw a glimpse of a muzzle flash in his mind; the last image he could recall before his world turned...

“Black,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Chris Black did this to me, didn’t he?”

It was a statement, not a question, aimed at no one in particular. And no one answered.

He looked up at Schultz. “Why?” he asked.

It was Josh who answered. “Jericho, listen to me,” he began. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t going to be easy to hear, but it’s the absolute truth... The world is in chaos. Two days ago, there was a terrorist attack. It was...
the
terrorist attack.”

Jericho looked over at him, his anger quickly giving way to the instinctual concern of a lifelong soldier. “What? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Josh shrugged. “I wanted to ease you into it all.”

“Well, next time, lead with the terrorist attack thing, okay? What the fuck happened?”

“You remember me saying about Project: Cerberus?”

Jericho nodded, but said nothing.

“The satellite was hacked by a terrorist organization calling themselves the Armageddon Initiative. Using hidden capabilities built into the satellite, they were able to hack into the world’s nuclear arsenals and use our own technology to launch them.”

“That’s... impossible!” Jericho exclaimed.

“I wish it were,” replied Josh, calmly, but with a notable weariness to his voice, “I really do. To the rest of the world, it looked like everyone had suddenly decided to nuke everyone else. China launched against Russia... Russia launched against Iran... Iran launched against Afghanistan...”

“Jesus Christ...”

“Close to a hundred million people have died, that we know of... And that number’s gone up with every hour that’s passed since the attack. GlobaTech’s been working tirelessly ever since, providing military support, healthcare, food, temporary housing—you name it, to all the affected nations.”

“That’s just... I can’t believe it. How the fuck did this happen? I thought Cerberus was designed to
detect
potential threats?”

“It was,” replied Schultz. “But the problem was our own satellite was being used against us from the very beginning. You see, in reality, there was no Armageddon Initiative.”

Jericho frowned and shook his head. “I don’t understand. You just said—”

Josh smiled sympathetically, cutting him off. “A terrorist called Hamaad El-Zurak was recruited by the CIA to act as the front man for all of this. He handled all the recruiting and planning, and his propaganda diverted attention away from the people really responsible for it all.”

“You can’t mean...”

Schultz nodded. “The goddamn CIA.”