Paradise Hacked (First Circle Club Book 2) (8 page)

"That's a wise precaution, sir."

"Bye."

Knox hung up his phone, stood, and quickly jogged upstairs. He went to a room which had once been a bedroom but now served as his intelligence and security center. A man and a woman wearing Army fatigues were seated at computer workstations.

"I was told you received some pictures," Knox said as he entered the room.

"Yes, sir," the woman replied. Her name was Corporal Ramirez.

"And?"

"The identification is fake. They certainly aren't with the State Police."

"Spies, eh?" Knox said.

Ramirez shrugged. "Very possible, sir. We're running the faces through all the usual government databases. No matches yet."

"Any progress on that phone number we called? The one for Detective Blandish?"

"The phone is registered under a different name which is also fake. We're having a difficult time getting the location of the phone. Somebody keeps blocking our trace."

"How?" Knox said. "I thought you guys were the best."

"Apparently somebody out there is even better. We're also seeing covert intrusion attempts. The attacks are sophisticated."

"How sophisticated?" Knox said.

"Professional grade. We needed help from the Pentagon to determine where the attacks are coming from, and we're still not sure. Somewhere in Chicago. We'll have better intelligence soon."

Knox rubbed his chin. "All this happening at the same time can't be a coincidence. The fake state troopers are trying to use professional hackers to penetrate our cover."

"That could be the case, sir.

"Sounds like a foreign intelligence operation. Print out those faces for me."

Ramirez used a photo printer to produce three pictures. Knox grabbed them from the tray. The printouts showed two men and a woman in civilian clothes appropriate for a business meeting. Knox didn't see anything remarkable in the pictures.

"Keep working," Knox said.

"Yes, sir."

Knox went next door to the medical laboratory. The team's medical examiner was still studying the body of Corporal Hartmann, and Knox was getting impatient for the official report.

He walked in and saw the corpse in even smaller pieces then before. All the internal organs had been removed, leaving a broken, empty rib cage. He prided himself on having a strong stomach, but the sight was enough to make his gut clench.

"Anything new to report?" Knox said.

The medical examiner turned to him. He was wearing a white lab coat, rubber gloves, and a face mask. Brown stains marked his coat, and they looked more like gravy than blood.

"A little, sir," the examiner said. "We've confirmed the victim was exposed to extremely intense electromagnetic radiation at relatively long wavelengths. There is also evidence of traumatic decompression."

"What do you mean?"

"Low air pressure caused his blood to boil. His oxygen mask was totally inadequate."

Knox gulped. "OK. Does Dr. Harlow know?"

"Not yet, sir."

"I'll go tell him. We have several topics to discuss."

Knox left the medical laboratory. He jogged down two flights of stairs to reach the basement. Harlow ran his physics experiments there with the assistance of several colleagues. He also built the experimental apparatus used for studying the portal. Knox managed the administrative and security elements of the Crusader Special Unit, but Harlow handled the science.

Harlow and his assistants were working on a robot. It had started as an explosive ordnance disposal robot with six wheels and beefy construction. A long manipulator arm had four joints. The scientists were strapping on sensor packs and communications gear. The robot would soon be bristling with shiny gadgets.

Harlow noticed Knox and came over. The two men moved away from the others so they could talk privately.

"You're making good progress on the robot," Knox said.

"Yes, sir," Harlow said, "but I'm doubtful it will work. From what we've seen, it seems clear the portal won't accept an inanimate object. It responds to people."

"Worth a try though. If nothing else, it will make Ms. Penn happy."

"Certainly. I'm much more hopeful about putting a man in an armored suit."

"I just talked to the medical examiner," Knox said. "Corporal Hartmann experienced traumatic decompression."

Harlow sighed. "I was worried about that. The suit will have to be air-tight. Are you having any luck getting your hands on one? Building a hardened spacesuit will take a lot of time, sir, if we have to do it entirely on our own."

"The latest incarnation of the Tactical Assault Light Operator Suit might fit the bill. I have a buddy in Washington who is happy to send us a prototype. It's already sealed as protection against chemical weapons."

"Being sealed doesn't make it a spacesuit. Maybe a flight suit from a SR-71 Blackbird would be a better place to start. Those can certainly handle a vacuum. We can wrap it in gold foil and padding. The result won't be pretty, but keeping the test subject alive is all that matters."

"Working with the Air Force is more challenging," Knox said, "but it's a good idea."

"If you don't mind," Harlow said, "I have to get back to work."

"Wait. I didn't come down here to talk about robots and spacesuits. We have a new issue to deal with. Some people posing as Illinois State Police are investigating us. They may be trying to hack into our computers. We can't figure out who they really are. The strangest part is at least one of them has some kind of mind-control power, although I'm a bit doubtful of that."

Harlow's eyes widened.

"Here are some pictures." Knox handed over the printouts.

Harlow stared at the pictures intently.

"I can tell from that squirrely look in your eyes that you know something."

"I might, sir," Harlow said. "My source warned me we might run into resistance. These might be aliens put on Earth to guard the portal."

"Are you kidding?" Knox said angrily. "Why didn't you mention this until now?"

"I didn't want to raise the alarm until there was some real evidence."

Knox was furious. He was very weary of Harlow's mysterious "source" revealing crucial facts at dramatic moments. Knox was certain important information was still being withheld, and that could get people killed.

He restrained his temper with difficulty. "I hope you realize what you're saying. If aliens are on Earth, then this isn't a simple research project anymore. It's a matter of national security, even global security! The President has to be told."

"Calm down. If they are aliens, they've been here a long time and haven't caused any harm to humanity. If not, we're getting excited about nothing. And if we start crying wolf, the big wheels in Washington will take this project away from us. We'll become little more than consultants. Neither of us want that." Harlow took another look at the pictures. "You have a whole bunch of Special Forces operatives to work with, the best of the best, right? I recommend you quietly capture the aliens. Make sure they actually are aliens before putting your neck on the line. If we deal with this on our own, it could be very good for us."

Knox saw the wisdom in Harlow's suggestion. The Army rewarded people who solved problems instead of just complaining about them. Bagging three aliens would enhance Knox's stature and reputation enormously. He would likely get a promotion out of it. If the fake state troopers turned out to be ordinary human spies, he could also turn that to his advantage.

"And of course," Harlow added, "there is no reason to tell Ms. Penn about this. She would just blow it all out of proportion."

"Agreed," Knox said. "Is there anything else I need to know before I go?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir. Just be careful."

"One day I'll find out who your source is."

"We'll discuss it after the operation is a success," Harlow said.

"I could force you to talk. Maybe I should, considering what is at stake."

Harlow swallowed. "That would have very negative consequences, sir. You would lose the portal."

"According to your source again?"

"Uh, yes, sir. I'm the key to this mission. My source won't deal with anybody else."

"This is disappointing," Knox said. "I can't believe you're holding out on me after all I've done for you. I gave you a job when nobody else would. I was the only commander willing to overlook your... unfortunate past. The men still mutter about you behind your back."

Knox hated depending on a conniving weakling like Harlow, but without him, the project would fail, and Knox hated failure even worse. He just had to play the hand he had been dealt.

Harlow lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry for your distress, but my source is very particular about how this matter should be handled."

"There will be a reckoning." Knox pointed his finger. "Mark my words."

He stomped out of the basement.

* * *

Harlow sighed with relief after his commander left. The situation was getting messy. Lies were piling on top of lies.

The pictures were still in Harlow's hand, and he took another look. One showed a beefy man with wavy brown hair. The man in the second picture was older, thinner, and seemingly wiser. The last picture showed a skinny woman with hazel eyes.

Harlow knew they weren't really aliens. They were most likely the dangerous adversaries the face had warned him about. They were a threat to the project, not Earth, and Harlow himself was the primary target.

The three strangers looked human enough. If he had met them on the street, he wouldn't know they were monsters. He had to hope Knox and his crew could capture the trio. Harlow hated to rely on hope, but he had little else these days.

* * *

Virgil watched the car containing the O.E.A.P. agents drive off in the distance. He had considered trying to follow them in his own car but had rejected that plan. They were undoubtedly trained to spot a tail. In retrospect, Virgil realized he should've brought a tracking device.

He turned to Lisa, Alfred, and Sara.

"I got a license plate number and a wallet," Virgil said, "thanks to Cat."

"And I have the IMSI-catcher," Sara said. "It may have picked up a few clues."

"And I took pictures in the coffee shop with my phone," Lisa said. "They're a little dark and blurry though."

"Sounds like a pretty good haul," Virgil said. "Let's go see Mei."

"Wait," Alfred said. "What happened with Cat?"

"I sent her away, but I told her I might call later in case we need her. I have her number."

"She's a pathological liar and a thief. Even I wouldn't trust her."

"I know," Virgil said, "but that might be what we need in an emergency. Let's move."

* * *

Virgil walked into Mei's workshop. She was still at her computer, but she was sagging in her chair and obviously tired. A plate on a nearby table was half-f of Chinese food. Six open soda cans formed a neat row on the floor.

"Any luck?" Virgil said.

"No," Mei said. "I'm throwing pebbles at stone walls and trying not to get caught."

"Maybe this will help."

He gave her the wallet taken from Mr. Charlie along with a scrap of paper showing a license plate number.

Sara, Lisa, and Alfred followed Virgil into the workshop. Sara handed the IMSI-catcher to Mei, and that generated much more interest than Virgil's offerings. Mei plugged the boxy device into her computer using a cable.

"Let's see what we got," she said eagerly.

She typed on her computer. Virgil tried to appear engaged, but the windows full of codes meant nothing to him. He could see from her reaction though that she didn't like what she was seeing.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"AES-256 encryption. Variable identifiers. Man-in-the-middle detection. Those phones were beyond military-grade security."

"We think the guys were Special Forces."

"Yes," Mei said. "I'm starting to think messing with them is a very bad idea."

Virgil furrowed his brow. "Can you still identify them from their phones?"

"Not a chance. I'd need access to top secret military databases." She sighed. "Let me see that wallet again."

She picked up the brown leather wallet and examined the contents.

"Fake ID?" Lisa said.

"Hard to tell," Mei said. "The cards are better than the ones I make." She nodded towards a special printer which made identification cards.

She went back to her computer and entered information from the wallet. Her keystrokes lacked enthusiasm, and after a couple of minutes, she took her hands off the keyboard.

"What's wrong now?" Virgil said.

"I'm scared. I've done everything I can to hide my trail, but if I keep poking this hornet's nest, I'm going to get stung. All it will take is one tiny mistake, and they'll figure out where I live."

"We'll protect you."

Mei raised her eyebrows. "From U.S. Special Forces?"

He had to admit she was making a good point. He, Alfred, Lisa, and Sara were inhumanly strong and tough, but they were no match for the military. A large enough number of bullets would shred their bodies and effectively destroy them.

"But without your help," Virgil said, "we're stuck. We have no other leads."

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. You're right. It's not your job to take those kinds of risks." He looked at the rest of the team. "Anybody have any ideas?"

Nobody spoke.

"Let's go back to headquarters and talk about it," Alfred said. "We can't just give up."

* * *

Colonel Jack Knox was sitting in his make-shift office behind his desk.

"Are we sure they're really aliens, sir?" Major Weber said.

"No," Knox said, "but Dr. Harlow thinks they are, and I lean towards taking his word for it. He's been right about everything else."

Major Weber was chief of security for the Crusader Special Unit. He was a big guy, and his particularly large shoulders made his head seem small. Sand-colored hair was cut close to the scalp. Orange-tinted safety goggles protected his eyes, and he almost never took them off. He held a M4 rifle with casual ease.

"But what if they have some kind of crazy technology? How are we supposed to deal with that? We already suspect they have mind-control. I spoke with Captain Kyle, and he seemed certain. He's not a man who likes to make up stories."