They each responded yes.
“Then we should begin. First, when was the last time any of you was in contact with Bluebird?”
“Hold on a moment,” Nakamura said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “There’s something I think we need to clear up first. What exactly is your position with the Project?”
The question was not a surprise. The four on the screen were all managers with fancy titles. Perez was a wild card, the type of Project operative probably none of them had come in contact with before. But while they might have been confused by his inclusion, the Project directorate had known his worth, and had purposely ranked him as high as they did in case something like this happened. He was someone who could make sure things stayed on track and didn’t get tripped up by narrow-minded middle managers.
“I’m Special Operations,” he said.
“And that is what, exactly?” This time the question came from Tolliver.
“Use your imagination.”
Silence.
“We think there might be a mistake with the information we received,” Nakamura said. She raised a piece of paper a few inches off her desk. “According to this, you’re number two?”
“Yes. And?”
A small laugh escaped her lips. “And I guess we don’t understand how that’s possible. You’re not even a director.”
“You mean regional director. You’re right. That’s not a title I hold. I don’t have a specific title, nor do I operate in a specific region. I work everywhere.”
“Then I guess I have to go back to the earlier question. Doing what?”
He stared into the camera. “We’re wasting time. We have a situation which needs to be dealt with, and you want to get into a pissing match over why the directorate saw fit to give me my rank?”
“It’s just that—”
“Ms. Nakamura,” Lassiter said, “Mr. Perez is correct. We need to address more pressing matters. If the directorate thinks so highly of him, then they must have a reason. It is not our position to challenge it.”
Nakamura looked momentarily confused.
Her reaction pretty much confirmed what Perez had already thought, that she’d had an earlier conversation with Lassiter, and someone, perhaps the doctor himself, had come up with a strategy to figure out who Perez was. Chances were, conversations had occurred between all four of his new colleagues.
Time wasters. Space wasters. The Project was in the first few hours of implementation, and here they were — the supposed leaders if Bluebird remained out of contact — not able to pull their heads out of their own asses.
These people were even more of a problem than he thought they would be.
“Thank you, Dr. Lassiter,” he said. “Perhaps we can get back to my question. Unless you’d like to be the one to keep things moving along.”
“No,” the doctor said after a second’s hesitation. “You’re doing fine. Please continue.”
“All right. So, last time anyone heard from Bluebird?”
Like Perez, the last message they had all received was the one saying that activation had been completed. In the twenty-four hours prior to that, there had only been routine communications with no signs of trouble.
“I don’t know if any of you have checked the weather or not,” Tolliver said, “but it appears that a large storm has moved in over Bluebird. It’s possible that could be affecting communications.”
“Actually, not possible at all,” Halversen said. “The systems that have been put in place work no matter what the weather.”
“Well, something happened,” Nakamura said.
“Yes,” Perez agreed. “And there’s no way we can know at this point what that is, so speculating about it is useless.” Nakamura started to open her mouth, but Perez went on. “We’ve all read the document from box A002. The instructions are clear. In the event of a loss of communication from Bluebird, this committee is to be formed with the purpose of focusing on the continuation of the Project’s goals. What we need to do now is make sure everything is proceeding as planned, and make any adjustments that might be necessary. After that, we can turn to the next steps.”
“Hopefully the directorate will be back online by then,” Nakamura said.
The others nodded in agreement.
“Of course,” Perez said. “We all hope that.”
Claudia slipped a piece of paper in front of him. He glanced down at it.
A man named Sims says he needs to talk to you right away.
Perez knew Sims. He was part of Special Operations, too, and commanded one of the Project’s tactical strike teams.
“Mr. Perez?” Lassiter said. “Something the matter?”
“No. Sorry.” Until he knew what Sims wanted, best to keep this to himself. “Now, about monitoring activation.”
“I have an idea about that,” the doctor said. “I’m willing to bet that your background makes you best suited to assess where we are. You could be in charge of that task, and report back to us. What do you think?”
Report back to us? Perez thought. All right. That’s it.
These people had no business being anywhere near the decisions that would have to be made. He was going to have to take full control himself. It would be best, though, if they didn’t see it coming.
He almost smiled. “Of course. I would be happy to do that. Why don’t we reconvene in four hours and I can fill you in then?”
Once they’d all agreed, the call was ended, and Claudia put Sims through to the phone on the table.
“Sims? Perez. What’s going on?”
“Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing. I’ve been trying to get through to Bluebird, but no joy. Have you talked to anyone there?”
“No one has. The activation signal went out, but after that, nothing.”
A pause. “I was afraid of that. Anyone trying to find out what’s going on?”
“Apparently there’s a big storm up there, so nothing we can do at the moment. Our focus is on making sure everything else goes as planned.”
“Well, that’s kind of why I’m calling you.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Who’s in charge of security now? That’s really who I should be talking to. Called you because the depot I contacted gave me your number, and said you were organizing some kind of leadership meeting.”
“You called the right place. I’m the one you’re looking for.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. My team and I were sent on a special mission today, with instructions to call in a report thirty minutes ago. Like I said, I’ve been trying.”
“What’s the mission?”
Sims briefed him about the raid on the Resistance’s headquarters.
“So the buildings are destroyed, but you haven’t found them yet?”
“Oh, we’ve found them. We just haven’t been able to get to them. They’re in an underground shelter. Once we locate the door, we’ll have them.”
Perez was a practical man. It’s what made him so good at his job. While an attack on Resistance headquarters was interesting, he instantly knew it was a needless act of revenge. Whoever was in that shelter would die of the coming plague anyway. Using Sims’s team to kill them before that happened was risking the squad members’ lives unnecessarily to satisfy the ego of one of the directors, no doubt. A director who was quite possibly dead.
“Sims, I’ve got some new instructions for you.”
11
Brandon leaned against the tree, panting. Once more he could hear the helicopter heading in his direction. He slid around so the trunk was between him and the aircraft, hoping it would mask him from any heat-seeking scanner they might have.