Split Second (30 page)

50

Six days had passed since Cargill’s
stunt with the polygraph, and this entire time Hamilton had been tasked with an
assignment off base, and had only just returned, ordered to a meeting in a
conference room within the mountain. During this time Knight’s patience was
wearing thinner and thinner—as was Hamilton’s own. He was still no closer to
figuring out how to obtain a copy of Wexler’s breakthrough than he had been
before.

Hamilton arrived at conference
room D with some half-baked ideas of how he could worm his way closer to
Wexler’s work, but hadn’t arrived at a concrete strategy. He was joined by three
other members of Q5’s Inner Circle, Joe O’Bannon, Tom TenBrink, and Eric Beal.

Lee Cargill and Joe Allen entered
shortly thereafter, and everyone took a seat around the large conference table.

Cargill wasted no time on
pleasantries. “I’ve called you in today for what is a very important
assignment, but one that should be routine—even boring. Nine days ago, as you
no doubt recall, we were in position to acquire Jenna Morrison and Aaron Blake.
Even though I now have full faith in all of you, I still like to keep
information on a need-to-know basis, so I didn’t mention that we were
successful in this task.”

“Congratulations,” said both
TenBrink and Beal in unison.

Ass kissers
, thought Hamilton in disgust.

“Thank you,” said Cargill. “A
few other things I haven’t told this group. First, Joe and I have been staying
in the north quadrant of this base all along. We didn’t want anyone to know
until we weeded out our remaining mole.” He paused. “And along with Blake and
Morrison, we also acquired two additional men, a physicist from UCLA named Dan
Walsh, and a computer expert named Greg Soyer. All four have now been fully
briefed on Q5’s activities.”

“Fully?” said O’Bannon in a tone
that indicated he hoped this wasn’t true, and didn’t approve if it was.

“They all know as much as you
do,” replied Cargill. “We extended an invitation to all four to join us. Walsh,
the physicist, has been off-site with the team studying Wexler’s work. He’s
like a kid on Christmas morning. The other three have all been staying here, at
least until today.”

“What happened today?” asked
TenBrink.

 
“Greg Soyer has a live-in girlfriend. We’ve
provided cover for him, telling her the military recalled him for a classified
mission and making up a lame story to account for the mess their shared home
was in. But he wants to get back to her. He is being returned home even as we
speak. The good news is that he’s agreed to consult with us whenever we need
him.”

“Does Knight know about him?”
asked TenBrink. “And more to the point, will he go after him?”

“We don’t think so,” said Joe
Allen. “Knight only cares about Nathan Wexler’s breakthrough, and Soyer can’t
help him with this. Soyer did save the file to the cloud, very securely I might
add, and put in a fail-safe mechanism. Unless Jenna and her PI friend both
enter correct passwords every week, the data will be automatically made public,
which neither we nor Edgar Knight can let happen. If anyone tries to break in
or delete the file, the same thing happens. Originally, Soyer could also access
Wexler’s file, but he’s had his two friends change the codes so even he can’t
get in.”

“Which means that only Jenna
Morrison and Aaron Blake have any value to Knight at this point,” added Cargill.

A surge of electricity coursed
through Hamilton’s veins. Had he heard correctly? It seemed impossible. “I
don’t understand,” he said. “You said these two have been staying here for over
a week. But are you saying the file in the cloud still exists? That the
fail-safe mechanism still exists?”

Cargill frowned. “Yes. Q5 killed
the man Jenna Morrison loved, and Aaron Blake has had some bad experiences with
politically driven military decisions, which make him slow to fully trust the
judgment of his government. We’ve tried to get them to destroy the file, but
they’ve refused until they’re certain they can trust us.”

Hamilton couldn’t believe his
ears. What a pussy this Cargill was. Even more so than he had known.

“With all due respect,” said
Eric Beal, “if this file gets into Edgar Knight’s hands, or out into the
public, the world is pretty much fucked. If this doesn’t warrant enhanced
methods of . . . persuasion . . . to get these two to take it down,
nothing
does.”

Hamilton almost grinned. When a
pussy like Eric Beal thinks you’re a pussy, then you’re
really
a pussy.

“Valid point,” said Cargill.
“First, until it’s taken down, my highest priority is to make certain that they
reset the fail-safe every week, which they just did. Second, I have every
reason to believe these two will come around, because I’ve been truthful with
them, and both really will make valuable members of the team. But if I use
force to get them to disable it, they’ll never join. Yet they’ll know all about
the most classified black program in America. So what then? Kill them? Hasn’t
Jenna Morrison been through enough? Wasn’t killing Nathan Wexler,
in front of her
, enough abuse for her to
take?”

Cargill surveyed the men across
from him, but none chose to respond.

“So far,” he continued, “Jenna
sees no reason not to join us. But she wants to reserve judgment for two more
weeks. During this time she wants to continue to get to know us, and spend more
time with me and Joe.”

Cargill sighed. “But not here. She’s
feeling a growing sense of claustrophobia. Knowing there’s an entire mountain
poised a few feet over her head is getting to her. And living here, without
getting any natural light, is making her more depressed than she already is—and
believe me, that’s saying something, since she did lose someone she loved
deeply.”

“I see,” said TenBrink. “So can
we assume you’ve agreed to relocate her?”

“Yes. And also Aaron Blake. He’s
very loyal to her, and wherever she goes, he’s going to be there to protect
her.”

“We’ve chosen a nearby military
base for her two-week sojourn,” said Joe Allen. “Very close so we can visit often
and continue to get her comfortable. Schriever Air Force Base, to be precise.”

“There are a number of
bases fairly close by,” said Cargill, “but Schriever is only thirty miles from
here. For those unfamiliar with this base, it’s home to the 50th Space Wing,
which controls satellites. Warning satellites, navigational, communications,
spy—you name it. There are almost six thousand personnel based there. Schriever
is also where the GPS master control station is located, as well as the Master
Clock used to synchronize all GPS satellites.”

“Schriever is perfect for our
needs,” said Allen. “It’s in the middle of nowhere, with miles of mostly flat,
barren ground all around, so there’s no way to sneak up on it. No one there will
know who these two are, or why they’re important, but they’ll have security
that a visiting president would envy.”

“This is where all of you come
in,” said Cargill. “We’ll move out at 0700 tomorrow. We’ll take a midsize
truck, one so reinforced it could take a missile strike and not slow down. The
outside will read,
Colorado Carpeting
Discounter
. I’ll be driving, so I can show our two guests around once we
arrive. The four of you will be in the trailer minding them. Once we arrive on
base, you’ll also be stationed there, as added protection for Morrison and
Blake.”

“Will one reinforced truck and
five men be enough for this transfer?” asked O’Bannon. “Knight would give his
left nut to capture these two. Shouldn’t we put them in a convoy of tanks with
a fighter jet escort?”

Cargill shook his head. “No. Knight
has to know we have them, but by now he also has to believe they no longer have
access to Wexler’s file, so they aren’t useful to him. And he’s run out of
moles, so he has no way to know where they are. So the goal is to make this
casual, to not draw attention to ourselves. It is virtually impossible for us
to run into trouble this time. It will be one of the easier assignments you’ve
ever been given.” He smiled. “But that being said, make sure you’re armed to
the teeth.”

“While we can’t imagine Knight
still wants them, ” said Allen, “or has any idea where they are, just to be
paranoid, we’ll still ring the base with dark energy sensors. That way, in the
unlikely case we’re wrong, he won’t be able to get any mobile time travel units
within the fifty-eight feet he would need to infiltrate the base.”

“So we’ll be babysitting for two
long weeks?” complained Tom TenBrink .

“Don’t think of it as two long
weeks,” replied Cargill with a smile. “Think of it as fourteen short days.”

TenBrink didn’t return the
smile. “I know you’re sure Jenna Morrison will eventually join us,” he said.
“But what if she doesn’t? What if she decides to get back to her life and leave
the fail-safe in place?”

“I’ll just have to convince her
that she can’t,” said Cargill. “That she’d be too exposed to Edgar Knight. Even
if he doesn’t think she has access to Nathan’s work anymore, I know him too
well. If she was that unprotected, he’d never leave this stone unturned.”

“And if
that
fails?” said O’Bannon.

“Enough!” barked Cargill, having
suddenly lost his patience. “She’s going to join us! But be assured that if I’m
wrong, I’ll do what I have to do. Even if it isn’t pretty. So no more
questions. Just be ready tomorrow morning.”

Hamilton’s comrades all wore
grim expressions, but he was
ecstatic
.
This transfer was the exact break he needed. This was his chance. Not only to
be a hero, but to finally end this double agent shit.

In just one more day, Hamilton
could finally begin fighting alongside Edgar Knight to forge a glorious future.

51

Jenna Morrison and Aaron Blake sat
with their backs against the wall of the trailer compartment of the midsized
truck, facing the doors at the back of the vehicle. Cargill was just a few feet
away from them, driving, but the cab compartment was separate from the trailer
and he couldn’t be seen. Hamilton and O’Bannon sat against the right wall, and Beal
and TenBrink against the left. Other than its human cargo, the small trailer,
proudly proclaiming the false identity of a carpet discounter, was empty.

Hamilton was tingling with
anticipation. He studied the girl carefully and noticed that she looked almost
ill.

“Are you okay?” he asked Jenna,
deciding it couldn’t hurt to play the role of the concerned Samaritan.

She forced a smile. “Sure. It’s
just being in the back of a semi with a bunch of soldiers brings back memories
I’d rather not have. Last time, it didn’t work out so well.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” said Eric
Beal, “I promise this time will be very different.”

“I know it will be,” she said
with a sigh. “Thanks.”

They drove in silence for ten more
minutes. Hamilton and his three comrades had rucksacks beside them, filled with
weapons, just like the team that had been assigned to extract Jenna Morrison
and Nathan Wexler originally. And just like this team, they had been instructed
not to carry any weapons that would be visible to their guests, so as not to
panic them.

This just served to further
reinforce Hamilton’s low opinion of Lee Cargill. If the girl saw that each of
them had an MP5 on their lap, it would make her feel
less
panicked rather than more.

As for Aaron Blake, Hamilton was
familiar with his file, and this man never panicked. Even now he seemed
hyper-alert, hyper-vigilant.

The truck rolled to a stop.
Almost a full minute later, Cargill activated a microphone that broadcast his
voice into the trailer compartment. Apparently, this wasn’t just another red
light.

“There’s a minor fender bender
blocking the road,” he explained. “But a tow-truck is already on site, so we
should be on our way in less than five minutes. This is not an ambush. The
drivers of the cars in question, as well as the tow-truck driver, are harmless
civilians, and I’m watching them closely. No suspicious vehicles or pedestrians
are approaching. Finally, I have a good field of vision, and can get around
them if I need to.”

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed. “What
are the odds there’d be an accident blocking our path?” he said, posing the
question to no one in particular.

“I’m thinking maybe one in a million,”
said TenBrink uneasily.

“It is an unlikely coincidence,”
said Joe O’Bannon, “but Cargill obviously knows this, too, and he isn’t
worried.”

Hamilton could tell TenBrink was
biting his tongue, wanting to express how he felt about Cargill’s judgment in
these matters, but not wanting to do so in front of their two guests.

“Even so,” said Hamilton, unzipping
his ruck and removing an H&K .45 caliber handgun. “I’m gonna check it out.
Just to be sure.”

“Good idea,” said Blake, whose
instincts were obviously also screaming at him that this had to be trouble,
despite Cargill’s assurances.

 
The trailer had two doors that met in the
center and opened outward. Hamilton opened one a crack and looked out. He turned
back to face the others. “The coast is clear, and it looks calm. When I return,
I’ll knock twice, pause, and then three times, so you’ll know it’s me.”

Not waiting for a response, he
exited the truck and shut the door. He moved rapidly to the passenger’s side of
the cab and motioned for Cargill to lower the window.

Cargill glared at Hamilton as he
powered the window lower. “What are you doing?” he snapped angrily. “Get back
in the trailer!”

Hamilton began screwing a
silencer onto the end of his gun, doing so below window level and out of
Cargill’s sight. “I just wanted to check things out,” he said innocently. “You
know, make sure this isn’t an ambush.”

“I told you it wasn’t!” said
Cargill. “Sometimes an accident is just an accident. And Knight has no idea
we’re even here.”

“Wrong on
both
counts,
jackass
,”
said Hamilton, raising his weapon and depressing the trigger three times in
quick succession, sending three rounds ripping through Cargill’s chest.

Before he had fired he had
surveyed the area, and was satisfied that no one would witness this long
overdue execution. Knight had paid the most harmless-looking civilians he could
find a king’s ransom to stage this accident, and others on his team had put up
barricades out of sight to limit the number of possible witnesses.

Hamilton walked to the back of
the truck and took a deep breath. From one pocket he removed a reinforced
padlock, and from the other a small canister of gas. He knew for certain his
comrades—soon to be
ex
-comrades—hadn’t
packed any masks.

He knocked. Rap Rap. Pause. Rap
Rap Rap.

He waited another few seconds
and then began opening the door, secure in the knowledge that no weapons would
now be pointing in his direction. He pulled the pin on the canister, tossed it
inside, and slammed the door shut, padlocking it firmly closed.

He returned to the cab, pushed
Cargill’s lifeless body to the passenger’s side, and checked the time.

Right on schedule.

Now all he had to do was take a
detour into the woods to meet with others on Knight’s team tasked with transporting
Hamilton and his two prisoners back to Lake Las Vegas, taking care to exercise
appropriate surveillance countermeasures, including a few that Knight’s Brain
Trust had only recently developed.

Hamilton turned to Cargill’s
blood-soaked corpse as the truck began rolling forward, happier than he had
been since he could remember.

“Mind if I drive?” he said with
a broad grin.