65. Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter sixty-five
Samantha leaned over the shoulder of the net ninja working to unpack the data dumps they received before the bombs had destroyed the hard drives along with any intel they contained.
She was hoping, beyond hope, the data they had managed to download before the explosions, would contain the information they needed. It was a fool’s hope.
The drives had contained several terabytes of data, and less than a quarter had been gathered before the destruction of the factory.
What had been captured contained everything from notes by Doctor Kadare to random junk stored by the Albanian soldiers.
There were several gigabytes of porn. And at least one of the Albanians had been a prolific meme enthusiast. Over a thousand images with funny little tidbits and anecdotes had been captured.
Most of the memes had something to say about the battle of the sexes.
The Albanian had not thought very highly of the female gender.
“Got another load unpacking now,” the tech said as his fingers flashed over the keyboard with impossible dexterity. On his screen, a status bar indicated the decryption of a large file folder at ninety-seven percent. Sam leaned close and held her breath.
The situation room was a hive of activity.
The door constantly buzzed with people coming and going.
The destruction of the factory and the deaths of three CIA officers, along with twelve special forces soldiers, had turned the whole affair kinetic.
Half the staffers in the situation room still had tears in their eyes.
Sam wanted to cry too but that would have to come later. Right now she had a job to do. There was a madman out there with a highly contagious and deadly virus. He had to be stopped no matter the cost, or more people were going to die.
The status bar completed.
“Let’s see what we got,” the tech said as he unpacked the file.
His screen filled with another folder full of pornography.
Sam sighed and slapped a thigh. “What? Did these guys just watch porn, twenty-four seven?”
“Yeah,” the tech said and shook his head. Bright red roses had blossomed on his cheeks. “Guys can be so immature.”
“Make sure these end up in the trash when this is over,” Sam instructed.
“Of course,” he said. “In fact, I’ll trash them now. No sense wasting storage.”
Sam started to turn away, then turned back. “Wait.”
“Hm?” He had selected the whole file folder and his finger hovered over the delete key.
“Open one.”
“Er?”
“I want to make sure they haven’t buried info in the file,” Sam said by way of explanation.
“Good thinking.” He clicked a thumbnail at random and the larger version filled his screen.
“Oh,” said Sam. “Oh my. I didn’t think that…” She had been about to say she didn’t think it was possible, but the truth was staring her in the face. Some people, it would seem, are just more flexible than others.
The tech was already at work sifting through the meta data on the image. After a minute he shook his head. “Sorry. Garden variety porn.”
“Nothing garden variety about that,” Sam blushed. “Let me know when the next data dump is unpacked.”
“Ms. Gunn?”
She turned. “Yes?”
The rest of the room had taken to calling her Ms. Gunn, despite her repeated insistence they call her Sam. For better or worse, she had become den mother to a collection of nervous people working feverishly to avert a worldwide disaster.
One of the IMINT people motioned to a laptop screen. Her face was pale and her eyes were rimmed with red. She whispered, as if this room were actually big enough to keep secrets. “National Security Advisor on conference call.”
Sam crossed the room in two long strides. “Sir?”
“The President would like an update,” the National Security Advisor said.
He was in his late fifties with salt and pepper hair.
A pair of reading glasses were perched atop his head and his tie hung loose.
Sam could glimpse a White House office in the background, and had a sneaking suspicion it was oval in shape.
“I’m afraid there’s not much to report, sir. We’re doing everything we can to decode the data, so far most of it is useless junk, and we are trying to track the terrorist leader. We believe he is on his way to Zagreb to meet with a buyer from the IRGC.”
The National Security Advisor rubbed his chin while he took a minute to think. “Clear the room, please.”
“Okay, everybody,” Sam spoke up to cut through the din of noise. “I’m going to need a minute alone.”
Had she announced a live hand grenade had just been discovered behind the coffee maker, the room would not have cleared out faster. One minute it was a buzzing hive, the next minute Sam was the only one left. The door closed with a soft clump as the last of the CIA officers fled.
“Are we alone?” the National Security Advisor asked.
“We’re clear, sir.”
“The President has gathered, by your authorization request for enhanced interrogation, that you have an agent on the ground in Belgrade.”
“A freelance intelligence agent,” Sam clarified.
“Music to my ears,” the National Security Advisor said.
“Ms. Gunn, let me be clear, we cannot allow this virus to get out. We certainly can’t allow a weapon like this to fall into the hands of the IRGC.
We already have three dead CIA officers and a dozen dead special forces personnel.
This has become an international quagmire.
Needless to say, the Serbian government is asking questions we can’t answer.
Putting more troops on the ground would be, politically inconvenient.
Is your man in position to stop the sale of the weapon? ”
Sam paused before answering that. She didn’t want to put Jake in the line of fire, especially not with a deadly virus in the open.
She had already watched de Camp die. She shuddered at the thought of Jake contracting LB426.
She scratched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure.
He has one of the terrorists in custody and he’s working to ascertain the meeting place. But I haven’t heard back…”
The National Security Advisor hit a button to mute the conversation and spoke with someone in the background.
Sam watched his mouth moving but couldn’t hear what was said.
A moment later he unmuted. “Your contractor has permission from the President of the United States to use any and all means necessary to stop the sale of the virus and secure any samples of LB426.”
“Sir, technically he is a contractor and not under my authority.”
The National Security Advisor checked a page of notes on the desk in front of him. “He’s employed by Global Security Solutions run by former CIA officer Mathew Burke, is that correct?”
“Er… yes, sir.”
“Global Security Solutions has just been placed under contract by the federal government. Your freelancer works directly for us now. Consider my previous statement an order. Are we clear?”
“Yes—” before she could finish, the screen had gone blank.
“… sir.”
Sam closed her eyes and raked a hand through her hair.
To the President, the freelancer was just a nameless, faceless foot soldier, an expendable asset.
He was throwing Jake into the lion’s den, in the hopes he would stop Doctor Kadare.
And if he failed, that was a small price to pay.
If Sam were sitting behind the Resolute Desk, she’d probably make the same decision.
But she wasn’t in the Oval Office, and Jake wasn’t a faceless soldier. He was the man she loved.