‘How will she know where to find us?’ Jay said.
‘The computer virus will hijack the security system, placing it under Sophia’s personal control,’ McLoughlin said. ‘She’ll find you through the RFIDs they put back in your arms during your re-education—or reprogramming, rather. Once she has the Chimera vector codes, she leaves. With or without you. That part is up to you.’
‘What if the computer virus doesn’t work?’ Damien said.
‘It’s metamorphic,’ McLoughlin said. ‘It rewrites itself constantly, circumventing the facility’s intrusion detection. It contains a payload of viruses, each employing a different method to hijack the system, each able to do so because I have already installed back doors into the system itself.’
Jay felt dizzy. They were really serious about this. And they actually seemed sure they could pull it off.
Damien said, ‘You’re aware that Denton has run some of the operatives through a new program? Mark II operatives.’
‘Yes. We’ve encountered the shocktroopers on several occasions in the past.’ McLoughlin plucked a set of keys from her jacket pocket.
‘Then you’d know there are now eight of them. Posted at Desecheo Island,’ Damien said. ‘Even we don’t stand a chance against them.’
‘You’ve been training against these sorts of odds since you were six years old, Damien.’ McLoughlin made no effort to hide the disappointment that stained her words. ‘If I didn’t think you were up to the task, we wouldn’t have brought you here to begin with.’
‘Why us?’ Jay asked her.
‘You’re uniquely placed under Denton’s command. I have no doubt that after your little incident in Iran, he reprogrammed you with the full knowledge that we would try to turn you. It’s your job to play the game, Jay. And it’s ours to stay two steps ahead of Denton. We believe you would be very useful for this operation.’
Jay’s mind reeled. He couldn’t believe he was considering helping them.
‘How you planning on getting this Chimera thing out of the facility?’ he said. ‘Denton would have it protected, yeah? It’s Paranoid City in there.’
‘The Chimera vector codes are encrypted,’ Sophia said. ‘Cecilia’s blood carries the encryption key. She’s not an operative though. Which is why she put the encryption key in my blood.’
‘Right,’ Jay said. ‘But how are we going to know when you’re approaching the facility?’
Sophia shrugged. ‘When you hear the exploding cargo plane.’
‘Exploding?’ Jay hoped she was joking.
‘Your coms will receive a text message,’ she said.
‘What sort of message?’ Damien asked.
‘Spam,’ McLoughlin said, using her keys to unlock the car beside them—a sky blue Renault Clio. ‘That is your signal to ingest the virus into the facility’s intranet. Is that understood?’
Jay nodded. ‘Yeah, easy. We can do that.’
Sophia offered Jay the underside of her forearm. ‘Scratch me.’
He peered at the blue veins under her skin. ‘What?’
‘Scratch me and draw blood. If you chased me, we have to make it look like you got close.’ She took his hand and pressed his fingernails into her flesh. ‘Feel free to get as much DNA as you want.’ She smiled. Coldly. ‘You’ve still failed your mission.’
Chapter 26
Benito Montoya handed Denton a single sheet of transparency. ‘You’re not going to like this.’
Denton placed it on the left side of the light box in Benito’s office. The sheet showed a single cell, tinted violet. It was so large that a quarter of it filled the clear background. The texture reminded him of hair gel.
Benito placed another sheet on the right side of the light box. The image was almost identical to the sheet on the left, except for tiny sapphire-colored lozenges sprinkled around the cell like orbiting debris, and Benito’s greasy fingerprint, which made Denton cringe.
‘What am I looking at?’ he said, trying to ignore the MSG stench of instant soup that seemed to emanate from Benito’s desk.
‘The left image is a red blood cell infected with a provirus,’ Benito said. ‘The viruses are budding from the cell’s membrane. But here,’ he tugged at the first print, ‘in Sophia’s red blood cell—’
‘No dice,’ Denton cut in.
He leaned forward and swiftly wiped a strand of Benito’s hair from the sheet. It didn’t add up. Sophia must’ve been carrying the provirus with the encryption key. The records of the injections revealed as much. Had he screwed it up?
He handed the sheet back to Benito. ‘Could McLoughlin have engineered the virus to die off once it separated from Sophia?’
‘Well, yes. It’s a possibility. She might have programmed a decay of some sort.’
Denton exhaled slowly. ‘You clever bitch.’ He turned to Benito. ‘Don’t you get it? We need Sophia
alive
.’
‘Then I’d suggest, Colonel, that you find her quickly. We may be running out of time.’
Denton glared at him. ‘I’m well aware of that.’
‘No, I mean this.’ Benito turned to the laptop on his desk and tapped a few keys. A series of numbers came up onscreen.
_360:57:14
The fourteen became a thirteen, then a twelve. Counting down in seconds. Denton’s chest tightened. ‘Three hundred and sixty hours. Until what?’
‘It looks as though McLoughlin placed an expiry date on the encryption,’ Benito said. ‘It started at 3600 hours. And that was 135 days ago, which means we have—’
‘Fifteen days left.’
A sharp voice punched through Montoya’s office. ‘Colonel Denton.’
It was the facility administrator, Doctor Komarov. Or Dragon Komarov as Denton secretly called her.
He smiled, then turned to greet her. ‘Good evening, Doctor.’
Dragon Komarov’s gaze, imperious and cold, flickered between the pair of them. She said to Denton, ‘I need to speak with you alone.’
Denton turned to Benito. ‘Certainly.’
Like a minor character in a silent movie, Benito excused himself from his own office.
Denton’s smile faltered. He clenched his teeth in an effort to keep it there. ‘How may I help you, Doctor?’
Her wine-stained lips parted. ‘Tell me, Colonel, do you have problems carrying out orders?’
He tasted her question for a moment, then said, ‘No, Doctor, I don’t.’
‘Then can you explain to me why you carried out an operation that I did not authorize?’
‘I assure you, Doctor, the operation was of the highest importance. The General—’
‘I don’t care about the General!’ she snapped. ‘What I care about is that you’re one step away from suspension. If you want to locate your prized operative, or anyone else for that matter, then you will first seek authorization through the appropriate channel. And that channel, in case you have forgotten, is me. I will not permit you to take operatives into the field without proper backup. Is that clear, Colonel?’
‘Doctor, if I take any more Blue Berets into the field than I already am it will scare Sophia away,’ he said. ‘She is our finest operative, she’s not stupid.’
‘
Was
your finest operative.’ Dragon Komarov eyed him carefully. ‘Forget about ten Blue Berets. I want twenty for every operative you drop in the field. That is not negotiable, Denton. If you don’t want Sophia to know they’re around, then make sure they know how to play hide and seek. Or I’ll demote you so fast you won’t even have clearance to your own orifice. I mean office.’
Denton blinked. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
She turned and walked out.
Chapter 27
‘Alpha Zero Two to Whiskey Six Five Zero,’ Nasira said.
Her voice was husky even through Sophia’s flight helmet. The operation currently hinged on her acting ability.
‘We’ll be escorting you to Desecheo Island under terror attack threat level “severe” in this region. Please stand by as we move into position. Over.’
‘Whiskey Six Five Zero to Alpha Zero Two,’ the cargo plane’s pilot said. ‘Standing by. Over.’
Sophia breathed easy. Well, not too easy. The next phase was going to require a little more than acting.
She looked out the window of the helicopter to see the Caribbean Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean collide below, the water’s surface rolling under the moon, concealing the seven kilometer depth below.
Sophia was happy with her team. It was smaller than she would’ve liked, due to time constraints, but the ex-operatives under her command were no less than exceptional. In addition to Nasira, the team included Cassandra and Renée.
Cassandra had been on an operation in Libya when Sophia and Nasira captured and deprogrammed her. She was African American, had brilliantly dark eyes and naturally pentachromatic vision, wore her hair in micro-mini braids, had a flair for explosives and quantum chaos theory, and an impatience bordering on intolerance. Still, she found passion in the Akhana’s crusade.
Sophia had collected Renée in Ireland, which, coincidentally, was also Renée’s background. She had strawberry blonde hair cut short above her frequency sensitive ears. A sliver of Spanish warmed her freckled cheeks.
Only moments ago, Sophia had told her team this was no longer a trial. It was a live op, weapons hot. She hadn’t been able to give them any forewarning because the spy in their midst might very well be a member of her hand-picked team. She hoped that wasn’t the case but she couldn’t rule it out. It wasn’t paranoia, it was common sense. She’d split her team into pairs so no one would be alone. Lucia accompanied Nasira in the cockpit, while Cassandra and Renée controlled the winch.
Nasira was piloting a heavily modified Hughes OH-6A light helicopter, pulled right out of the early 1970s. They’d done what they could to make it airworthy: modified the main and tail rotors so they spun at a lower rate; altered the tips of the main blades, added an additional rotor blade; installed a large muffler on the rear fuselage, and even a baffle to block noise slipping out of the air intake.
Through her helmet visor, Sophia had a visual on the cargo plane.
‘Five Zero,’ Nasira said, ‘bring your speed back to niner zero and descend to flight level one zero. Over.’
There was a pause, then an uncertain, ‘Alpha Zero Two, copy that. Over.’
Sophia concentrated on her breathing as she waited for their response. If the cargo plane’s crew became suspicious, they’d contact the facility immediately. Then it was up to Lucia to block their outgoing transmissions as fast as possible, and Nasira would need to pull out an Oscar-winning performance and pretend to be the cargo pilot as she explained to Desecheo Island that her distress call was a false alarm.
Sophia didn’t take her eyes off the cargo plane as it descended to 10,000 feet. At this elevation, what she had to do next would be a hell of a lot easier. Easier but definitely not easy.
‘Alpha Zero Two, we’re at flight level one zero and steady. Over,’ the pilot said.
‘Copy that, Five Zero. Over,’ Nasira said.
Ten minutes passed and the aircrew still hadn’t attempted to contact Desecheo Island.
This was it.
Sophia watched Cassandra give the hand signal to switch frequencies. She did so, in time to catch Nasira speaking on their own encrypted frequency. ‘OK, Sophia, ready when you are.’
Sophia switched on her oxygen and turned to face the side door. Gripping the handle, she twisted, then slid the door to one side, shuffling along with it so she finished up pressed against the inside of the hull. The cold wind bit into her exposed neck and wrists. She sat and rested there a moment while Cassandra and Renée set up the magnetic grappling gun on the winch. Pneumatically powered, the gun was designed to be used in deep space with spacecraft, but the principle was still the same.
‘Ready to go fishing,’ Renée said, her American accent still carrying a hint of Irish. ‘Stand by. Over.’
‘Copy that. Over,’ Nasira said from the cockpit.
Sophia heard a dull whoosh as compressed air propelled the grappling hook into the oil-black sky. From where she was sitting, she couldn’t see how accurate they were. All she could do was wait for confirmation.
‘Hook engaged!’ Cassandra yelled, a little too loudly.
Cheers erupted from the cockpit.
Sophia wanted to join in, but she was too nervous. While Renée connected her rope to the winch, she checked the pouch strapped to her chest. Inside were the explosives she needed.
Once the winch was connected, she secured her body harness to it, tested her weight on it, had both Renée and Cassandra double-check it for her, then gingerly made her way to the edge. She could see the magnetic grappling hook stuck to the side of the cargo plane. It was an odd-looking rectangle with rounded edges, its powerful electromagnets glued to the hull with an attractive force of several thousand kilograms.
‘Moving into transfer position. Over,’ Sophia said.
Her heart was racing and her gloved hands felt like they were shaking uncontrollably. She looked down to find they weren’t shaking at all. She gripped the handles on the winch and took three deep breaths from her tank to oxygenate her blood.
This was going to be one hell of a flying fox.
She pushed off and slid down the rope. The icy wind thrashed into her. She swung from side to side as she rocketed towards the cargo plane, her hands tight on the winch handles. Harness or no harness, there was no way she’d relax her grip.
The wind knocked the air from her, slammed her into the plane’s tail. She had no air in her lungs to cry out in pain. The impact made her let go of the handles. She caught sight of the ocean surging fiercely below. The harness held her. She was still sliding down towards the magnet.
‘Whiskey Six Five Zero to Alpha Zero Two,’ the cargo plane pilot said. ‘Please check our niner. Sounds like a goddamn meteor just hit our side, over.’
Sophia found the handles again. The wind flayed her. Her arctic jacket rustled angrily across the plane’s exterior. She shut her eyes for an instant. Her body slammed into the plane again.
‘Alpha Zero Two to Whiskey Six Five Zero,’ Nasira said. ‘Checking your niner. Wait one.’
Sophia’s lungs burned. She breathed and breathed and shut her eyes. The winch hit the back of the magnet, swinging her wildly. She hung there at the mercy of the wind. It howled through her goggles. It sounded like a giant wind tunnel aimed right at her face.