“Black-ops snatch missions targeting citizens? Grabbed here? Oh, Lordy, what a toxic barrel of waste that is. Who the hell was crazy enough to authorize this?”
Houston shook her head. “I don’t know. The superiors are only identified with code words: Bravo, Phoenix, Nexus, and the like. It was all set up post-9/11, extreme measures. After 2007, all references to the program disappear.”
Simon nodded. “They killed it, I guess. Still, though, evidence of numerous such events — toxic waste, Sara. No wonder they’re trying to quarantine you two.” He waved his hands at the screen, lecturing them. “From what you’ve told me, I think all the more you need to go in ASAP. Cut a deal with them. Promise to shut the hell up. You can’t change the past. Justice in this business is a pipe dream. Cut your losses, Sara. Turn yourself in.”
“I don’t think you’re paying attention!” said Lopez, his voice rising in volume. “The killers are still out there. They aren’t going to turn themselves in. We now have information that can begin to tie everything together. Whatever these murders are about, they have something to do with these missions. We’ve picked up a trail!”
Houston finished for him. “This could lead us to the identity of the killers, Fred. Besides, who says they are finished? How many more agents will die? We’re not going to surrender and duct tape our mouths shut! We’re going to find them.”
“Before the Agency finds you? It’s just a matter of time!”
“Then we’ll use our time as best we can,” said Houston defiantly.
Simon stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds. He sighed. “It’s a fool’s quest, Sara, but if you’re determined to do this, I’ll do what I can to help. But my hands are mostly tied.” Simon ran his fingers roughly through his white hair. “We’ve been connected long enough. We have to be careful or we’ll end up leading them straight to you. My advice is to lay low, move constantly, don’t do anything that can lead to identification through any databases. All communications must be proxy and anonymous. Your banks, credit cards, online accounts are all off limits.”
“We know all this.”
Simon continued, ignoring her. “If you were just going to disappear, you just might be able to pull it off. But you want to push to reveal the killers. You want to investigate. You will have to make yourselves visible and vulnerable to do this.”
“We know, Fred. But it’s something we have to do.”
Simon shook his head in resignation. “You Scottish girls are always so damn stubborn! Fine. I’ll reach you again within the week. I’m not idle, Sara. You do have friends left in the Agency. More friends than that, even. There is a network of some like-minded old farts like me not only at CIA, but at FBI, NSA, some others. We’re our own secret society, but we’re sadly outgunned. We’ve been pushing since after 9/11 to change the course internally, but we’re trying to stay honorable. It’s hard to compete with dishonorable, let me tell you.”
Houston looked stunned. “How can we reach this group, Fred?”
Simon smiled shyly. “Watchmen. That’s our name for ourselves, from the comic. Sorry, graphic novel. It wasn’t my idea.”
“How do we reach these Watchmen, then?”
“Right now, through me. That may change, we’ll see. Things are moving quickly, you’ve made sure of that. We’re doing all we can, but the machine is bigger than us. We’ll talk soon. Be smart. Be safe.”
The connection was broken, and the screen went dark. Neither Lopez nor Houston moved or spoke for a moment. The silence seemed to weigh a ton.
Lopez spoke first. “At least there is a team fighting on our side.”
“The Watchmen,” chuckled Houston. “I always wondered why Fred seemed so determined to keep up these interagency meetings. I thought it was for better intelligence coordination. But maybe it was more.”
“I don’t think they were preparing for this.”
“No. I don’t think they were either. And it sounds like there aren’t many of them. Still, any help is welcome right now.” Houston turned toward Lopez and looked deeply into his eyes. “Thanks for risking so much with me, Francisco. I know it’s not just about Miguel for you either. I’ve seen it in your face. Whatever happens, it means a lot to me to have a friend in this.” She placed her hand on his.
Lopez was moved and embarrassed at the same time. Or am I afraid of her? Sometimes she seemed like a powerful force that might just consume him in ten different ways. What unnerved him the most was how attractive that idea had become.
He tried to redirect the conversation. “I have an idea, Sara.” She looked at him quizzically. “The Church,” he said. “We’re surrounded on all sides by powerful forces, numbers and reach we can’t fight or can’t control. But the Catholic Church is a big organization, as well. With deep pockets and a reach that goes around the world. And it is a moral organization, whatever its faults and the tarnishing by the press. It is based on the teachings of Jesus Christ. Lies, shadows, torture, murder — these are the works of the Devil and must be opposed.”
Houston looked doubtful. “Francisco, what can the Church do?”
Lopez stood up, feeling empowered for the first time in this madness that had descended on them. “I don’t know, Sara. But I know they have the power to shelter us, shield us. Once upon a time, often in history, the Church would shelter those persecuted by the governments of nations. Maybe it’s time to call on that again.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Go see my bishop in Alabama. He’s the first point of contact, the doorway to the ecclesiastical power structure. I’ll tell him what we have found out. I’ll show him the evil that is stirring.”
“And if he refuses to help?”
Lopez’s eyes flashed, and he stood up straight. “I believe in my Church, Sara. The bishop won’t refuse to help. God cannot abandon us at this hour.”
33
The lights were dim in the farmhouse, the only illumination the flat computer screens lining the faux stone walls. The bluish hue cast a death mask on the shadowy figures seated around a table in the middle of the room, their features pale, ghostly, and inhuman. Even their speech seemed to take on whispered tones, as if spoken by the wind.
They stared at a computer monitor, the face of CIA Agent Jesse Darst filling it. He spoke in a grave voice, his face lined and strained.
“They got my hard drive, and through it, access to a lot of stuff before we could shut it down, lock them out completely. All the files were there, the entire program!”
“This was unexpected,” said Nexus, “and we need to move fast to contain it. That will do for now. You weren’t directly involved in the operations. You shouldn’t be overly concerned.”
“Indirectly will destroy me too, if this ever gets out!”
Nexus held up his hand. “I know that, but you must not panic. We need you to stay focused and continue to report to us. We need your information. We’ll be in contact soon.” Darst nodded, and the screen went black.
“Then they know.” It was the baritone voice of Bravo.
“There is no doubt,” answered Nexus. “It was unthinkable that they would dare such a thing. That they could accomplish such a thing. Building 448 was considered impregnable; its security unassailable. The documents were hyper-encrypted, NSA-certified algorithms.”
“That a pimply hacker online could crack in an hour!” spat Zulu.