Chapter 15
THE MESSES OF MEN
It took less than twelve hours for everyone affected by Splice to die.
By Saturday night, men and women in PPPS suits were working to clear the bodies while the survivors of the gala attack were funneled, one by one, into the decontamination tents set up outside on Exhibition Road.
The quarantine zone was still in effect in and around the Victoria and Albert Museum; cleanup inside was going to take months, at a minimum.
Cataloging the damage done was going to be a slow, time-consuming process, and the museum would be closed for the foreseeable future.
Out of Alpha Team, Jamie and Kyle were the last ones remaining for the classified debrief.
Jamie had accounted for every one of his teammates during the aftermath, though the only one who hadn’t been physically present was Kyle.
Jamie had heard his voice intermittently over the comms, aware that Kyle had encountered Stanislav at South Kensington Station and survived the encounter. Oksana, apparently, had not.
Looking at a holopic of the Russian woman’s body laid out on a table in the cold morgue of the UMG’s headquarters, Jamie wasn’t at all surprised to discover she wasn’t who she’d introduced herself to be.
“Alyona Mikhailova,” Chapman said, flicking through the layers of holoscreens arrayed around him.
“Her fingerprints and retinas come up as two different aliases in the biometrics readouts, but DNA doesn’t lie, and those results are finally in.
You said Stanislav Pavluhkin thanked you for killing her, is that correct, Brannigan? ”
“Yes, sir,” Kyle said from his spot beside Jamie at the conference table. “He also said he didn’t see the night of the gala ending like it did.”
“And you’re certain Alyona is who you saw in Los Angeles last week?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d ask what Russia’s GRU would want with Stanislav Pavluhkin, but considering what he’s bankrolling with his father’s money, I think it would be a moot question,” Liam said.
Jamie nodded silent agreement. The GRU was the English translation for the Cyrillic acronym standing for the Russian military’s Main Intelligence Directorate.
The fact that Stanislav seemed to have played two factions of the Reborn IRA against each other solely to get Alyona killed said he didn’t want the GRU to know what he was up to.
That she was most likely a Russian undercover agent assigned to monitor one of their own citizens wasn’t a difficult theory to believe.
“Her DNA scan concluded she wasn’t a metahuman,” Nazari said through an uplink on the screen embedded in the wall, gaze askance as he read something off-screen. “Do we have the results back yet on Stanislav Pavluhkin?”
Chapman tapped a command into the computer, and a report popped up at everyone’s personal terminal. “Positive across all baseline markers. He carries more gene markers for a psionic power than any other.”
Jamie studied the report with a grimace. Across the table, Liam looked just as unhappy about that detail.
“Do we have an idea of his power, sir?” Liam asked.
Chapman leaned back in his chair, a troubled look in his eyes. “Considering what happened at the gala Friday night, taking into account the brief conversation Brannigan had with him, we’re leaning towards precognition. Theoretical at the moment, but his actions fit with that power.”
Jamie couldn’t stop himself from tensing at that announcement. “When was the last time a precog showed up?”
“In Italy, about fifty years ago. The way records describe the power, she could focus it on targeted people and receive multiple flashes of a possible future. The flashes weren’t concrete because the future was always changing, and her reach was about twenty-four hours in advance.
But she could pinpoint with great accuracy the most logical path to a future that would happen and build off the flashes to achieve her goal,” Nazari said.
Liam sighed tiredly. “Does this mean we’re finished before we even get started? Does he know if we’re metahumans or not? If he can see us coming, how do we fight that?”
“Stanislav seemed annoyed when he talked about Jamie sending me after him. Something about us being unpredictable and how it wasn’t appreciated,” Kyle said slowly. “I guess, with our covers, he thought I should’ve stayed with Jamie, but I didn’t.”
“Being unpredictable gets tiring.”
“It may be the only weapon we have,” Chapman said.
“You took over for Delta Team at the last minute last week,” Jamie said, looking at Kyle. “If Stanislav saw the threat, he may have only seen Delta Team and not you. It may be how he knew where to plant the bomb. Their sniper said she’d have picked the same location as you did to take the shot.”
“Still a fifty-fifty chance he’s playing us,” Kyle replied.
“If Stanislav is a precog, I don’t know why he’s not leveraging his power with the Kremlin, then. It would be enough to entrench his family’s power for years. You’d think a man like him would want that,” Liam said.
“Maybe because he hasn’t is why the GRU is looking into him. Whether or not they know he’s a metahuman is still unknown, but they’re monitoring him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stanislav has been keeping one step ahead of them for years,” Jamie said.
“And we bloody well helped him.” Liam rubbed a hand over his face. “He manipulated us.”
“It seems that way to a certain extent. Which means we have our work cut out for us because we can’t lose this opening with the Pavluhkins and the Presnenskaya Bratva.
They seem to be in control of the criminal alliance right now and are the ones dictating the next steps.
If the cover we put in place holds and they contact us again, we may very well get a lead,” Nazari agreed.
“If they contact us. From where I’m sitting, that’s a very big if, sir,” Jamie said.
“You’re the perfect bait, Callahan. I believe he will think long and hard about giving you up.”
“Even after the story The New York Times is planning to release hits the news streams?”
The article in question, written by Adam Dixon, would be going live midday, Eastern Standard Time, sans any quote from the Callahan family.
Even without reading it, Jamie knew it was going to cause a lot of problems. The mere hint that Richard Callahan’s son was lying about his deployment and being seen with a known criminal, the same criminal who had dealings with the Reborn IRA group that attacked the Victoria and Albert Museum, would throw the Republican nomination fight into chaos.
“We have people working on a fix for that. You’ll be informed of your role when you and Alpha Team return later on today,” Nazari said.
Jamie could only nod in the face of that order. Liam gave him a faintly commiserating look from across the table. The other man knew, better than most, just how difficult it was to be part of a prominent family while trying to serve your country.
“Any update on Cillian Halloran?” Liam asked.
Chapman’s jaw went tight for a second before he unclenched his teeth, the only sign of his anger.
“It doesn’t look like he was on-site during the attack.
Whether or not he was even in London whilst the attack went down is debatable.
We’ve been in contact with Interpol and advised them to issue a Red Notice on Halloran. We’ll see where that gets us.”
“And Emmet Doyle?”
“Unfortunately, being a guest at the gala isn’t a crime. He and Jansen survived the attack. We’ll keep Doyle under surveillance. As for Jansen, there’s more to gain from his freedom than locking him up.”
“So we let them go, sir?” Jamie wanted to know.
“As much as it pains me to do so, yes. We let them go.” Chapman folded his hands together, gaze sweeping around the table.
“Whilst the results aren’t exactly what we wanted, this mission was necessary.
We still believe that, but the fight ahead of us is going to be difficult.
I’d say, at this point, the facts are clear.
We’re in the middle of a genetic arms race between countries and terrorists, and I’m not sure we’re in a position to win it because we can’t stoop to their level.
We won’t stoop to their level. In the end, our morals might be what get us all killed. ”
“At least we have them,” Liam said quietly.
It was more than anyone could say of the people who had orchestrated the terrorist attack Friday night.
Nazari cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Let’s finish up. I need Alpha Team back on American soil as soon as possible.”
Jamie reached for his cup of cold synthcaf and drank the dregs of it down, steeling himself for the hours ahead.
Later, when the debrief was finally over and the UMG released them, Liam was the one who drove Jamie and Kyle out to Heathrow and the private jet waiting for them there.
The rest of the team had closed up the house in Kensington while they remained ensconced with the brass, preparing for the trip back home.
Katie had even sent an agent back to UMG headquarters with a change of their own clothes to get into.
They still had a cover to uphold, after all.
Nazari wanted them in the air and out of England before Adam Dixon’s story hit the media streams. Their flight back was registered under Katie’s identity as the CEO of Root Source, Inc. rather than his or Leah’s to further keep the press in the dark about his location.
Getting through Heathrow’s Terminal 6 security was quick and painless. Liam drove them right up to the private jet, letting the airport’s ground crew handle the baggage while he walked Jamie and Kyle to the jet’s stairs.
“I’ll see you inside,” Kyle said.
“He’s a bit of alright, that one,” Liam commented, watching as Kyle disappeared into the jet.
“He’s something,” Jamie agreed.
“Gran said the next time you visit, we’re not allowed to break anything.”