The Extinction Code (27 page)

‘They’ll find another way,’ Lopez pointed out. ‘They won’t stop hunting us.’

‘They might,’ Jarvis said, ‘if we can get Garrett to admit his involvement with the cabal.’

Ethan raised an eyebrow. ‘Garrett wasn’t one of the eleven men we imaged in New York City.’

‘Indeed,’ Jarvis said, ‘and that’s why we think that he’s involved in an attempt to join Majestic Twelve. He has the financial power and the expertize, but there must be something else up his sleeve that he’s using as leverage to win himself a place. It’s your job to find out what that something is. I’ll have the Navy send a ship before you head to Brazil so you can intercept Garrett’s yacht. Report back in when you have him in custody or you reach his island.’

‘Done,’ Ethan replied. ‘We’ll get some sleep while we cross the Atlantic.’

‘Be careful. If Forbeck is right, whatever Garrett has on that island won’t be friendly.’

*

Washington DC

‘Did you get the codes?’

Jarvis turned to Hellerman as soon as the link with Ethan and Nicola had been switched off. Hellerman eagerly handed him a thick wad of papers.

‘Most of it’s the account details,’ the scientist explained. ‘The bread’s on the first couple of pages, all of the codes. They’re held in off shores around the world and the codes change regularly, so we’ll have to be quick to catch them all and freeze up the money.’

‘How much is there?’ Jarvis asked.

Hellerman actually swallowed, as though nervous to say it out loud.

‘Almost four trillion dollars in assets,’ he said. ‘More than some countries.’

Jarvis nodded, and then clapped Hellerman on the shoulder. ‘We’ve got MJ–12 by the balls now, don’t we?’

Hellerman grinned. ‘You gonna take it to Nellis now?’

‘Right this instant,’ Jarvis confirmed. ‘Get on the horn to the NSA and set up a meeting will you? You deserve the credit for breaking this.’

Jarvis walked from the ARIES watch room as Hellerman hurried to his office to make the call. He strode up to the ground level of the DIA’s Headquarters building and walked toward the lobby, his pass card checked by security as he logged out of the building and walked through the south exit.

Broad lawns basked in the afternoon sunlight and a fountain glistened as Jarvis strolled casually toward the parking lot and slipped a cell phone from his pocket. He dialled, and after three rings Mitchell answered.

‘Yes?’

‘Ilhabela, off the coast of Brazil, just south of Sau Paulo,’ Jarvis said simply. ‘Target is Rhys Garrett, private facility, defenses unknown. All of Majestic Twelve are likely to be there.’

‘Understood.’

‘I’m sending you some codes, an unexpected bonus,’ he added. ‘This is what I need you to do.’

As soon as Jarvis had finished speaking the line clicked off and Jarvis switched off the burner and yanked off the rear of the device. He pulled out the SIM card and dropped it down a drain as he walked, then broke the cell phone in two. He would deposit the remains of the phone in two dumpsters at least a mile apart on his way home, having taken a suitable detour that would avoid any blocks monitored by CCTV.

*

‘Flash traffic, south lawn.’

Hellerman sat at a monitor and watched as the automated “crawler” program he had initiated locked on to the cell phone signal burst that had been emitted from a local tower just moments before.

‘Where’s it from and where is it going?’

General Nellis stood behind Hellerman with his arms folded and watched as the kid worked his magic on the computers, which were linked from his office to the vast data servers of the National Security Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Central Intelligence Agency. Within moments the combined resources of all of the agencies and the local telephone company’s willingness to comply provided Hellerman with the information that Nellis needed.

‘The call originated from our own south lawns and was received by an unregistered cell phone in Tijuana, Mexico.’

‘Can you trace the location of the receiving signal?’ Nellis asked.

Hellerman shook his head. ‘No, it’s already gone. My guess is that they’re using multiple burner cells and destroying each one after a single use. There’s no trail to follow.’

Nellis nodded. ‘Okay, just bring up the CCTV on the south lawn and wind it back.’

Hellerman obeyed, picking up the relevant camera feed and winding it back to the time of the call. Moments later a still image of Douglas Jarvis appeared, a cell phone pressed to his ear.

Nellis sighed heavily as he looked at the image. Hellerman stifled his own gasp and looked up at the general.

‘You’ve been tracking Jarvis? Why?’

‘That’s why,’ Nellis said as he gestured at the screen. ‘Ever since Felix Byzan was killed in Rome I’ve suspected that the hit required inside knowledge. The only people who know the identities of Majestic Twelve work in this building, and Jarvis has made no secret of his desire to see the cabal liquidated.’

Hellerman stared at the still image of his boss. ‘You’re sure there can be no mistake?’

Nellis shook his head.

‘No other calls went out south of the border from this location in that timeframe, and we’re a long way from Mexico. Get the tech team to place a GPS tracker on Jarvis’s car. I want to know where he is at all times, okay?’

‘Who do you think he’s been calling?’

Nellis rested a reassuring hand on Hellerman’s shoulder before he turned and walked from the office.

‘I have a few ideas, but I’ll deal with this. Share it with nobody, understood?’

‘Are you going to arrest him?’ Hellerman asked. ‘He’s served his country his entire life and his record is impeccable.’

‘That doesn’t give him the right to act as judge and juror,’ Nellis snapped. ‘The moment we start acting like that, we’re no better than MJ–12.’

The General turned and stalked out of Hellerman’s office, closed the door behind him and headed swiftly for the elevators. It was only once the doors were closed that he let out a long sigh of relief, grateful for the brief moment of privacy as he pondered on his next course of action.

Jarvis’s work had led directly to the death of a member of Majestic Twelve, and Nellis had not the first idea of what to do about it.

***

XXXII

USS Independence,

Gulf of Mexico

‘Do we have a location?!’

Ethan had to shout over the noise from the blades of a US Navy Black Hawk helicopter that was winding its engines up as they walked out onto the stern deck of the littoral ship.

‘We’re working on it now! Stand by!’

USS Independence was one of the Navy’s newest combat ships, a small–crew corvette capable of multiple roles. She was a futuristic looking trimaran design, with a wide beam supporting a very large flight deck and capable of sustaining speeds of more than forty knots.

Ethan climbed aboard the Black Hawk alongside Lopez, and around them were packed a small but elite team of US Navy SEALS, heavily armed and their features concealed behind bandanas and camouflage paint that made them somehow look less human and more machine.

Ethan strapped into his seat with Lopez alongside him as the helicopter lifted off the corvette’s deck and turned, her nose dipping as her tail rose and the Black Hawk accelerated away from the ship and skimmed over the waves of the Gulf of Mexico, the broad and flat greenery of the Yucatan Peninsula crouched against the horizon before them.

The loadmaster’s voice in Ethan’s earphones was barely audible as he sat in his seat and watched the glittering seas race by.

‘The yacht is still in international waters, but she’s making a run for Cancun by the look of things!’

‘We’ve got to get to her first,’ Ethan insisted. ‘Can we cut her off?’

‘Coast Guard already ordered her to heave to, but there was no response,’ the loadmaster replied. ‘She’s making for the dock no matter what, and once inside she’s beyond the reach of our government.’

Ethan checked the 9mm pistol in his shoulder holster one last time as he replied.

‘We don’t have time for political wrangling. Either we stop them now, or this is already over.’

The loadmaster smiled grimly. ‘Don’t worry, these guys can be aboard her in sixty seconds, and have her engines shut down right afterward. We’re ten miles out, it’s gonna be close, but they’ll make it.’

Ethan nodded, and looked at the lieutenant of the SEAL team.

‘Make for the bridge,’ he said. ‘Turn the ship away from the coast as a priority.’

‘Yes sir,’ the officer replied. No questions. No concerns.

The Black Hawk turned as it swept along just above the surface of the ocean, and Ethan could see in the distance the exotic beaches of Cancun and San Miguel, strips of dark green and white sand against the blue expanses of ocean and sky. The interior of the helicopter was hot and smelled of grease and aviation fuel, the whole fuselage rattling as the pilots drove the helicopter at its maximum velocity over the ocean in an attempt to catch the private yacht before she reached the safety of the harbor a few miles away.

‘We’ve got a visual,’
came the voice of the pilot through the earphones, and Ethan leaned forward in his seat to look into the cockpit between the two pilots.

Beyond the myriad controls and screens, the broad windshield revealed the vast panorama of the Gulf of Mexico beneath scattered cumulus clouds trailing shadows that drifted across the clear blue waters. Dead ahead, a tiny white speck was dwarfed by the immense ocean.

‘That’s her,’ Ethan said as he spotted the shape of the yacht fleeing them.

‘We’re sixty seconds out,’ the pilot informed him. ‘They’re about two minutes from Mexican waters.’

‘Don’t try to cut them off or block their course,’ Ethan said. ‘That yacht’s big enough and they’ll be ordered to ram you regardless of any risk. Just get overhead her and try to stay stable enough to get the SEALs aboard. We’ll do the rest.’

The pilot nodded, his focus on the ship before them as Ethan turned back to the SEAL team.

‘They’ll try to evade us, prevent you from getting aboard. This could get a little rough.’

The SEALS regarded him in silence for a moment, and then as one they cocked their M–16 rifles in response. Ethan nodded and glanced at Lopez.

‘You ready?’

‘I’ll cope,’ she replied. ‘I feel better knowing that you’re not flying us in this time.’

Ethan rolled his eyes as he prepared for the exit. The SEALs were briefed to go first, followed by Ethan and Lopez if the pilots deemed it safe to do so. Ethan knew that there was little chance of that, so he had decided that he’d drop onto the line the first chance he got. Both he and Lopez had performed this action many times before, but never against the clock.

‘Thirty seconds, hatches open!’

The loadmaster hauled open the two side doors flanking the fuselage as the SEALs got out of their seats and hung on grimly, the rappel lines coiled on the deck at their boots. Ethan held onto his seat with one hand, the other gripping his buckle, ready to release it as soon as he could.

‘They’re evading!’

The Black Hawk tilted over sharply as the fleeing yacht turned beneath them, hoping to throw off the pursuing helicopter for long enough to reach safety. Ethan leaned around and glimpsed the giant vessel’s shining white decks and crashing foam around her stern as she twisted on the ocean, the Black Hawk’s pilot following her carefully and descending toward the large helipad on her stern.

Ethan knew that the pilot couldn’t attempt to drop them anywhere else, even though the ship was so large. Her erratic manoeuvring was enough to make landing anywhere else on the deck hazardous in the extreme, but at least Ethan knew that the captain of the ship would be forced to keep heading toward the coast and therefore couldn’t deviate too far from…

‘Incoming!’

Ethan heard the pilot’s panicked yell as the Black Hawk jerked upward and her engines and rotor blades thundered as Ethan heard a strange tinkling sound, like metal cooling. The SEALs ducked back from the open hatches as a couple of stray rounds clattered against the Black Hawk’s fuselage in a spray of sparks.

‘Get us down!’ the SEAL officer yelled. ‘Ten seconds!’

The pilot responded, and in a remarkable display of flying skill he turned the Black Hawk side on to the fleeing yacht, maintaining his flying speed and bringing the rifles of the SEAL team to bear on the gunmen flooding the landing pad on the yacht’s stern. Ethan watched as the SEALs opened fire, the Black Hawk descending and rocking on the wind as the soldiers directed a deafening crescendo of withering fire onto the yacht.

Ethan saw two or three gunmen go down as the others fled out of sight, and then the SEAL officer jumped into oblivion, one hand on the rope, the other holding his rifle. The other SEALs plunged out of the helicopter in pursuit, eight men gone in a matter of seconds. Ethan twisted his seat buckle free and launched himself after them, heard the gunfire and the clattering of the rotors above as he clipped his belt harness to the rappel line and leaped out into mid–air even as the loadmaster yelled at him to stay where he was.

The rappel line gyrated wildly in the wind as Ethan plummeted toward the deck, the SEALs fanning out, their rifles firing in a broad semi–circle facing toward the ship’s bow. Bullets clanged off the yacht’s bodywork as more bullets flew back at them, zipping past Ethan as he slid down the line and then opened the clasp on his belt. He dropped away from the line and landed hard on the deck, rolling forward and bringing his pistol up as he aimed at the nearest gunman hiding on a walkway that lined the bridge and fired.

His shot missed, but the gunman ducked his head and scurried away. The SEALs advanced by sections, sweeping forward as Ethan moved to follow them. Behind him, the Black Hawk’s rotors hammered the air and it rose up and away from the yacht, trailing the rappel lines. Ethan checked for Lopez but could see nobody. The loadmaster had probably grabbed her and prevented her from following Ethan out.

The clatter of rifle fire led Ethan forward through the ship. He entered the main cabin, its doors open to the stern, saw two dead gunmen sprawled across the ornate sofas as he made his way forward down a long, carpeted corridor toward the bow. He heard more gunfire, shouts of alarm from somewhere ahead of him, and moved more quickly. There was no time to search the ship, only to stop it and keep it in international waters.