Chapter 45
I studied the tablet Red had loaned me, looking closely at the prediction patterns. Forming letters in machine language was easy once you memorized the alphabet, but these results were all nonsense. No words or even clever abbreviations. Completely random, as you would normally expect.
More than that, the prediction boards themselves were off. It was something subtle that I had a hard time defining. It was like the CATMAP had withdrawn, but even the prediction rewards that Cramer was handing out were absent.
“Red, what’s the status of the Warlock app hunt?”
The computer expert was lying on one of the twin beds, reading a blog she favored.
“We’ve scanned eighty-one percent of government phones and have found roughly three thousand that have the app. Why?”
“What’s bothering you?” Rose asked, pausing at the top of a pushup. She was on her first set of forty and I had mere minutes before she demanded that I join her for the remaining three sets.
“CATMAP has withdrawn from the prediction board. And I don’t think any of the Warlock users are placing bets for their rewards.”
“I’m piggybacked onto several active apps. Let me look for anything new,” Red said.
Rose finished her set and stood up.
“There’s a group message. All bets are off,” Red said.
Alarm flooded my whole body. “Someone needs to alert the Secret Service. The president is not safe. And our own attackers are coming soon.”
Rose picked up her shorty HK416, checked the chamber and safety before moving to the door that connected to the next room.
We were in the basement, not the assigned rooms as a precaution.
She rapped a quick series in a prearranged pattern, heard the counter knocks, and then unbolted the door.
She leaned in and spoke rapidly while Red turned my way.
“What do you know?”
“It’s gut instinct… intuition, maybe. The main pattern just broke sharply.
Reward bets placed continuously for information and actions that favor Cramer’s goals, all ended by a four-word sentence.
Long-term trend ended by unforeseen event.
Statisticians would call this a black swan event.
Chaos and sudden action are hallmarks, along with widespread impact.
Cramer’s carefully controlled world just upended somehow. ”
“What caused it? The serial killer’s capture?” Red asked as Rose turned to listen. Beyond her, I could see two of the HRT guys in the doorway.
“No. I think… I think it was the request for help in machine language on the prediction boards. If they found it and understood it, then the sender was in immediate trouble.”
“Who sent it? Those predictions are from CATMAP, right?” Rose asked.
“CATMAP itself sent it. CATMAP gave you my location on the train.”
“You think your mother really is part of this program?” Red asked, turning to study her thermal sensor monitor.
“I think Mom was like me—memory and stuff. I think she was owned by Cramer, and she was somehow used to make CATMAP. But I don’t have any evidence.”
“Warning sent,” Rao said, leaning around the door. Rose was seating her earpiece and checking the comm connection. She nodded my way and I picked up mine.
“I have movement on the thermals,” Red said, her voicing rising a bit. “North and east. Multiple contacts.”
“All units,” Rose said, her voice coming through my ears and through the comm piece at the same time. “Contact. Hostiles approaching. North and east.”
“Nine from the north and seven on the east side of the property,” Red said, her own comm unit now active.
We all shrugged into plate carriers. Rose stepped up in front of me as if to check the fit of my armor.
She already knew it was fine. But when her body blocked anyone else’s view, she produced a small pistol, which she tucked into a front pouch on my carrier.
I identified the gun as the Springfield Armory Hellcat I had shot at the range as she put a spare mag in another pouch.
She met my eyes and nodded once. I nodded back.
Everyone gathered weapons, seated night vision goggles, and then Red clicked her tablet once. The whole house went dark. “All units. Prepare for company,” Agent Steele’s voice said through my earpiece. A steady chorus of voices responded in sequential order. And then the first shots sounded.
Three, close together, the sharp whine of suppressed supersonic rounds.
Hollywood gets it so wrong. Suppressing a subsonic round, slower than the speed of sound, makes for a mostly quiet experience, depending on the weapon used.
A bolt action can be as quiet as a pellet rifle.
Semi or full auto will have the rattle of the action.
But full power rounds are only deadened so much.
They still break the sonic barrier and make a sharp cracking sound.
In my mind’s eye, I saw an HRT agent firing two rounds at the torso and one at the head of an armed adversary.
Immediately I heard sustained fire begin from multiple points around the building, followed by explosions and flashes of actinic light through the windows.
“Be advised assailants are taking rear fire from unknown sources,” Red said on the comms, her eyes locked on her thermal drone monitor.
I stayed low, watching from Red’s side as the fight unfolded on the monitor.
Our guys and gals wore small infrared markers on the backs of their helmets; the enemy did not.
But everyone on the battlefield wore night vision, so the playing field was pretty level.
Our people had thermal sights on their rifles, but I couldn’t tell if the enemy did too.
My gut said yeah. What they didn’t have was any knowledge of the force behind them that was picking them off one by one.
I was pretty sure I knew who those folks were.
“Secondary fire from unknown actors,” one of the HRT guys said on his radio.
“They are engaging our attackers,” I said.
“Who is that on comm?” a voice asked.
“Hellcat actual.”
Silence for a moment, then “Roger that.” Unexpected. I thought they would tell me to shut up and stay off the comms.
“Op force numbers are down by half,” Red said. The pace of firing picked up for a ten count, then died away.
“Op force is disengaging. Repeat: Op force is disengaging,” Red said. “Unknown force applying direct pressure to enemy but also disengaging.”
“Teams two and three pursue opposing force. Teams one and four consolidate and reorganize.” Steele’s voice came through.
Five minutes later, we were cleared to leave the inn’s basement, where Red’s communications center was set up, so that we could help the wounded and verify the enemy dead.
Nine bodies lay sprawled around the inn, expended brass carpeting the grounds and at least four of our people wounded, one seriously.
I walked the scene observing everything, recording it all indelibly in my mind.
Blood spray, angle of entry wounds, location of bodies, weapons, and gear.
All nine bodies wore black combat battle dress uniforms, plate carriers, cutting-edge night vision, very high-end full auto rifles with suppressors, and advanced comm gear.
In short, they looked pretty much like our guys, just in black while our forces wore camouflage.
I moved farther into the wooded area they had come from, using my night vision to study the ground, then using both a regular flashlight and a UV flashlight.
“Cassie, Steele wants you back inside,” Rose said. She was following me, scanning the woods around us with the thermal scope on her weapon.
“Roger that,” I said as the information I had just observed settled into my brain.
Inside, we found agents Steele, Chen, Rao, and Red organizing around a meeting table in the inn’s guest lounge. Kessler came along behind us, as did three of the senior HRT agents on site and a couple of forensic people.
“Okay, Agent Sikes has been medivacked to a trauma center,” Steele began. “We’re waiting for an update on her condition. The other wounded have non-life-threatening injuries.”
He turned to me. “The president is in a safe location. There was an incident among his security team. It was neutralized. Cassie, what set you off?”
“Cramer ceased all prediction market activity and sent a message to his Warlock informants that it was over. That’s a massive change. Ejection of one of his biggest assets. The people he left hanging are vulnerable.”
“So an opportunity,” Steele said, nodding. “Why the president?”
“Whatever happened was big enough that he is in total damage mode. Secure on his island fortress, his biggest fear is the US military. Killing or seizing the president would give him a bit of time.”
“For what?” Dr. Chen asked.
“Disaster contingencies, maybe? Escape from his own island, disappearing somewhere in the world. He has dirt on all the people that fed him secret and confidential information. That’s leverage.
He’s a billionaire with a network of properties, companies, and business interests all over the world. He may be regrouping and reorganizing.”
“Other observations?” Steele asked.
“The attacking force was extremely well-equipped, and we will likely find that they are private contractors, ex-military special operators.”
“What about the group that attacked them from behind?” Kessler asked.
“Likely a Regimental Reconnaissance Company team on overwatch,” I said.
The team was silent, all staring at me.
“Based on what?” Steele asked.
“I found several hide sites, each demonstrating very high levels of fieldcraft skill. Discarded veg used to create maximum depth and blending of thermal hides. If you review the thermal recordings of the firefight, you’ll see moments when the third force broke total concealment to take their shots.
Their thermal blockage was damn near perfect.
They fired single shots to the back of the head, killing four of the nine attackers, and they executed direct pressure to the fleeing contractors while simultaneously disengaging from the battlefield. Hallmarks of RRC.”
“They took military action on US soil?” Rao asked.
“If they received lawful orders to do that, then yes. Check with the White House,” I said.
“Let’s review the footage,” Steele said.
Red put it on the big television monitor on the lounge wall, and we watched the whole thing through, then again with questions, rewinds, and magnified images. Steele and the HRT people had a lot to say, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Rides are here,” Red said about the time the questions and comments slowed to a stop.
“Alright. Main team pack up and board the helicopters,” Steele said. “Secondary and technical forensics people will stay and work the scene for evidence and data. Lift-off in fifteen.”
I helped Red, as my minimal kit was already pretty much squared away. We kept our tac gear and plate carriers on because Steele wanted maximum security at all times. We lifted off at sixteen minutes after his order.