Grimes opened the Sweeper drop-down menu again, asking it to search for the IP addresses of those accessing the account. About a minute later, several addresses displayed on the screen. He clicked on the first one and noted the geographic location. It was a medium-sized city in the United States, probably the location of the mission team operative. Nothing unusual about that, at least not on the surface.
Grimes then clicked on the second IP address. As he read the information, he frowned. Why would someone be accessing the account from there? Needing more information about the location, Grimes toggled over to Google Maps and entered the specific address. When the pertinent information came up, the blood rushed from his face. He could scarcely believe what he was reading.
His heart pounding, Grimes snatched up a headset, securing it over both ears. Then he accessed a secure line via his computer.
After two rings, a female voice spoke in his headphones. “Central Intelligence Agency. Secure Line Operator. How may I direct your call?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Oracle sent a text and then leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. “Keiko, be glad you’re not married.”
The humanoid looked up from her chair in the corner of the office. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“Unfortunately there is,” he said, tossing his phone onto a pile of folders on his desk. “It’s Helen’s birthday—”
“Her birthday is not until Friday,” Keiko said. “She was born in—”
The Oracle held up a hand. “I know, I know, Keiko. That’s not what’s important here. We were going to celebrate it tonight, and she’s not happy about my plans.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently the grand opening gala for the new Mars wing of the Air and Space Museum isn’t good enough for her.”
Keiko tilted her head. “You were going to tour the new wing of the museum on her birthday.”
“Look, it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s one of those fancy schmancy gala dinners with champagne, gerbil food, classical music… all those things she says she loves. Only apparently now she doesn’t!” He lifted his hands in the air.
“Sir, might I suggest—”
“Any other time she would’ve been elated. It’s her kind of thing. I’m telling you, the only time Helen doesn’t want to go to one of these events is when I plan it. The woman is insufferable!”
“I think—”
“In fact, I can’t tell you how many times she’s complained that we don’t do the DC social circuit. No cocktail parties, she says. No summer concerts at the art gallery, she says.” He glared at the phone, as if somehow Helen were still there on the other end. “I’ll never understand women, Keiko.”
Keiko blinked twice and said, “Sir, if you’re willing, I’d be happy to help you with the arrangements.”
“You know, if she had only told me…” He looked up at Keiko. “I’m sorry?”
“I’d love to help you arrange your date with Mrs. Ross. Brett gave me some special programming for this type of thing.”
“Foster did what?”
“He programmed me with information regarding the psychological motivations of both men and women, and more specifically how they apply to dating in the modern world.”
The Oracle lifted an eyebrow. “He asked you to do that, did he?”
“Yes, sir. He also asked me to download a database of restaurants and a calendar of special events in the DC area.”
“I’ll have to speak to him about this when he gets back.” Ross leaned forward and placed his arms on the desk. “So you really think you can help me?”
“I know I can, sir. I can run a diagnostic report on your wife that will help me determine the ideal place for you to take her. Brett had me run the same report on Ms. Amanda Higgs.” The Oracle’s eyes narrowed. Keiko looked at him for a moment then continued. “I can change a few parameters to correspond with your wife’s—”
A loud buzz sounded from a speaker on the Oracle’s desk. “Sir?”
The Oracle leaned forward. “Yes, Kristine.”
“I have Lieutenant General Charles McFadden on the line, sir. He says it’s urgent.”
McFadden. What could the Director of the DIA want? Delphi rarely worked with that arm of intelligence. In fact, he only remembered speaking to McFadden on two occasions, both social events. This couldn’t be good news.
“Okay, I’ll take it,” the Oracle said. He mashed a lighted button on his phone. “This is Ross.”
A deep voice boomed out of the speaker. “Ross, this is Director McFadden.”
“Good morning.” Ross leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head.
“Thank you. It was a good morning… until about ten minutes ago.”
The Oracle frowned.
McFadden continued. “I’m afraid we’ve uncovered something requiring our immediate attention. What can you tell me about Operation Green Beacon?”
Why was he asking about Green Beacon? Ross wasn’t concerned that McFadden was aware of their operation in Brazil — after all, the director was one of a few select individuals who knew about the existence of Delphi. But he was concerned about why he wanted to know.
The Oracle leaned forward and put his arms on the desk. “We’re performing covert due diligence. I can give you more detail if you need it, but in essence, we are following up on a signal that was broadcast from the Amazon basin.”
“A signal?” McFadden sounded concerned. “Does this involve the Brazilian military?”
“No. We’re attempting to locate the source of a strange audio transmission that was initiated in the Amazon basin,” the Oracle said. “The CliffsNotes version is that we feel there could be advanced technology involved.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “It’s even a little more bizarre than that. But I’m not sure how much information you need.”
“Let me tell you what we’ve discovered, and then we can decide if we need to discuss the operation further.” McFadden cleared his throat. “Ross, I don’t know any other way to put this, but it appears your operation has a mole.”
The blood rushed out of the Oracle’s face. “A mole? There must be some mistake.” His mind shuffled through the names and faces of those involved, lingering on a couple who jumped out as suspects.
“I wish there were.”
“Who is it?”
McFadden gave him the name of the mole and who that person had been in contact with.
The Oracle’s heart pounded. It seemed unthinkable that he could be responsible for this kind of betrayal. The entire mission was now at risk. In fact, unless they could figure something out, it was likely they’d have to abort.
“Who’s your man in charge?” McFadden asked.
“Zane Watson.” The Oracle put his glasses on the desk and rubbed his temples.
“I’m assuming you have a way of contacting him. I think the three of us should probably discuss how to proceed from here.”
The Oracle opened a drawer and retrieved a satellite phone. “I’ll conference him in right now, General.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Zane awakened slowly. The acetaminophen was wearing off, and his head was throbbing again. He could tell that he was lying in a hammock, and he could hear the crackle of a fire close by. He tried to force himself back to sleep, but the pain wouldn’t let him.
Suddenly, he detected the odor of tobacco. “How is the head?”
Jorge.
Zane opened one eye. The Brazilian sat a few feet away, smoking a cigar.
“Not good.” Zane groaned and adjusted his position in the hammock. “When did you put me in a hammock?”
“Before going to sleep you complained of nausea. Dr. Mills was scared that if you were on the ground you might roll onto your stomach, vomit in your sleep, and choke. My job is to make sure you stay on your side.”