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  Granger, overwhelmed from all the commotion, had closed his eyes and let the conversation drone on around him. His head hurt like the Mother of all mothers, and he could no longer concentrate. Irritated by the point of insertion of his IV, Granger suddenly felt too hot for the covers. He allowed his mind drifted into darkness until a soft female voice spoke to him in Arabic with a slight Ta'izzi dialect of the southern region. “Coffee, Special Agent Hawking?”

  40

  Meret and Granger

  May, Yemen’s desert and a Yemen Support Team

  Meret had planned to be the first to arrive at Granger's initial debriefing after a month-long captivity by an as yet unidentified faction. Still not completely happy with his doctor's reaction to his consciousness, what might have happened to his brain gave her grave concern for his complete recovery. She believed any excitement or stimulation, of any sort, needed to be avoided if Granger was to recover from his rescue entirely. For that matter, she didn't look forward to any more caviler military attitude either and approached the tented underground hospital with some apprehension.

  Feeling a bit disgusted with her earlier lapse of civility, she excused herself because Steve didn't personally know the two agents the Company had sent for Hawking's debriefing and therefore, neither he nor she, trusted them. She was more relieved she hadn't damaged her hand.

  Shit.

  The two agents had already arrived and were sitting at the end of Granger's bed meticulously setting up their makeshift office on two hospital food trays.

  She entered the tent, glanced at the agent she knocked out and tried not to dwell on the good-sized bruise on his chin. She focused her attention on Granger's sleeping body and spoke without an introduction. "As you know, Special Agent Granger Hawking has been held captive by unknown forces for the past month. Today, he recovers here, somewhere in the southern Yemen desert with minimal medical support. I'm pleased Director Davies invited you to assist SA Agent Granger in remembering what happened while captive, however, as his physician, I will watch over him. I am Doctor Meret Mather, his CIA appointed physician." That was more or less true. "I was part of the field team that located and extracted him and have I overseen his recovery since."

  She checked the monitors and tubes providing medication and needed hydration and then glanced at Granger's resting form. After a quick, gentle squeeze of his thumb, she looked that them and nodded, signaling Granger was ready. Standing by his side, she set parameters for them as his interrogators.

  "I have no intention of limiting your access to Special Agent Hawking, or of interfering with your questions. Your job is to learn everything you can about his confinement. I know that he has experienced severe head trauma as a result of that incarceration and unfortunately, additionally trauma during his rescue." She placed her clipboard on a side table and sat in a plain metal chair facing them. "Once Agent Hawking begins to speak, it is important not to interrupt him. For the time being, his processing is rather linear, and he has great difficulty getting back on track when interrupted. Make a note of your questions as we proceed. First I'll set the scene telling you what I know."

  The agents nod and take out their pens.

  "Ten days ago, Special Agent Granger Hawking was ordered to travel to Yemen to meet with a long-time asset at Aden's Seera Fun City for a rare face-to-face meeting."

  She shifted in her chair to a more comfortable position.

  As Meret told the story of what happened, the two agents gave her their undivided attention and only asked an occasional question for clarity. "

  "When did it go wrong?"

  "When Yasser got suspicious of two men trailing him. He sent Hawking to find his boys in the amusement park and send them home. When he returned to his asset, two men were shoving him into a car. Granger was made on the spot. He gave himself up rather than endanger the crowds of families with a shootout.

  "Granger told you this?" The taller of the two agents, the one with the big bruise, asked her.

  She ignored his skepticism and looked at him with no expression. He didn't need to know what she thought of him.

  He exhaled and continued "I assume your main interest focuses on what he might have learned during his captivity."

  She nodded. "Granger may have new information that will save a great many lives. We checked blood and liver for evidence of strong drugs but found none. It is likely they kept him awake and sober. We found no physical evidence of torture. If handled correctly we may learn about the group responsible, what they looked like, if he has ever seen them before and most importantly, what might be their plan."

  She glanced toward the door. Where the hell was Steve? She didn't want Granger telling these yokels anything until he got here. She laid a hand on Granger's arm, and he opened his eyes, which were focused and clear. She got the distinct impression he'd been listening all along.

  Echoing her thoughts, he whispered slowly, "Get Fairchild in here. I'm ready for his questions." He tried to move his shoulders higher on his pillow. "Help me set my bed up."

  She called a nurse with her finger and told her what to do for Granger and his interview with SA Fairchild.

  She walked by the seated pair of agents. "Give us a minute." Opening the door, she turned to look down the hall for Steve and bumped into him before he could enter. "Oh, glad you're here. I've been stalling two agents sent to question Granger. You'll remember the tall one. He's the guy I punched."

  Glancing past her through the open door, Steve whispered, "I got this. They mean well but I suspect they assume it's part of their orders to guard him."

  She nodded. "Granger needs a light hand. Someone willing to wait for him to work through his responses."

  After reassigning the pair of agents to guard the hallway outside of Granger's recovery area, Steve took one of their chairs. "Sorry. Yeah, I got hung up." He placed the chair so Meret could sit close to Granger's head and walked to the opposite side of the bed with the other chair. "You're looking like shit, Hawk. Glad to have you home." Steve shook his friend's hand. Rough going, huh."

  The only recognition Granger gave was a slight lift of his chin. Steve took over the investigation and spoke softly. "Tell us what you remember from the time you were put in the car. Every detail, even the small ones, can be important." He sat and placed one arm over the bed's protective sidebar and added, "Take your time."

  Granger adjusted his position in bed and moved the IV line off his arm. "After a short ride away from the Park, the SUV stopped, and they pulled me out of the vehicle. I still had my head covered and didn't know what happened to Yasser. I think he was still in the car. Do you know—?"

  He stopped when Meret shook her head. "Oh." He was silent for several moments.

  Finally, Steve said, "I'm sorry, Hawk. It wasn't supposed to happen. We think Yasser was wrapped up in something. They were after him, and you were collateral."

  Meret watched him pull himself together and refocus.

  "After they, two men, took me from the car . . . I think I heard a tracked metal garage door open, then close. The men shoved me down what seemed to be an outdoor hallway and then into an elevator.

  Fairchild patted his arm. "Up to this point, they didn't rough you up or question you?"

  Meret glared at him "We discussed that. Go slower. Most of Granger's head trauma comes later."

  Fairchild moved closer to the bed for support.

  Granger response began with a slow nod of acknowledgment. "From the soft dings, I think we exited on the fifth floor. They pushed me along with grunts and mutterings. I assume we entered an apartment and they shoved me into a chair."

  He stopped and gazed off into space, and Meret wondered if he had had enough for a while. His bruised face said they battered pretty hard. She snorted. Pretty hard. How inadequate was that? His ribs and legs told the same awful story. Thoughts of MJ sailed through her head. It wasn't fair. She should be here to comfort him. Granger needed it. He eyes kept sagging shut, and he paused in the middle of
sentences. She wondered if he forgot what he was saying. "Do you want to stop for a bit? She asked.

  Granger waved a hand and plowed on. "One of the men handcuffed my wrists to the metal arms of the chair and my ankles to the metal legs. It was an upright chair that got damn uncomfortable in short order." He snorted and mumbled, "The least of my worries, I assure you. I am pretty sure I heard the footsteps that signaled the exit of the two thugs who escorted me to wherever I was. New footsteps came up behind me and snatched the hood off my head."

  "A fat lot of good it did." The only light was an ambient glow coming through a window. A big window. It filled the wall. With no interior lighting, it was too dark to see any more than fuzzy outlines. The man came around in front of me and sucker punched me in the stomach. While I was trying to keep the coffee down that I had earlier, he cold cocked me to the head and left me balancing on the edge of consciousness. I'm not sure if he stayed or left."

  He blinked his eyes, whether to remove the remaining fuzziness from his concussion or to keep himself awake, she wasn't sure.

  "When I could think again, with any clarity, I saw small moving lights in the distance crossing the window at intervals. Finally, I figured out they were planes. That meant an airport was nearby. Considering the volume of traffic, it had to be Aden International because we hadn't driven very far." He paused, thinking. "Just as I realized I had to be in that new high-rise condo complex south of the airport, the heavy scent of gardenia drifted over my right shoulder."

  "As in Perfume? A woman was part of the group that grabbed you and Yasser?"

  Granger's eyes closed and opened giving the sign for affirmative. "Most of my communication was with a woman a very persuasive woman."

  Fairchild asked, "A woman, are you sure it was a woman?"

  No response. Granger had closed his eyes.

  Meret frowned. "He's sleeping." She looked at Fairchild. "Steve, is that something you would expect from Middle Eastern kidnappers? Why would the people go to the trouble to take Yasser as a prisoner and allow a woman to interrogate one of our finest combat operatives in Yemen, of all places?"

  Steve sat back and folded his arms. With Granger resting, he spoke in a natural and measured voice.

  "You know, the more I learn about this operation, the more I think the organization behind Yasser and Granger's abduction and even the possibility that the attack on Socotra would have had its origins in the Middle East is ludicrous. The culture would never give a woman that power. I think this all points to a non-Arabic organization."

  Meret repeated the question. "Why then did they take Granger?"

  "My gut says he's a collateral pick up. I'm hoping Granger will be able to clear that up. We need to find out what he knows about them and what he might know about their next operation."

  Granger, overwhelmed from all the commotion, had closed his eyes and let the conversation drone on around him. His head hurt like the Mother of all mothers, and he could no longer concentrate. Irritated by the point of insertion of his IV, Granger suddenly felt too hot for the covers. He allowed his mind drifted into darkness until a soft female voice spoke to him in Arabic with a slight Ta'izzi dialect of the southern region. "Coffee, Special Agent Hawking?"

  41

  Katya meets the Eight

  May, Lecturing the Leadership - business unusual

  Katya, in a tight leather outfit including a short skirt, high boots, and a long coat, led Dr. Sen to a small, dark, windowless office she had converted from her Hong Kong penthouse apartment’s utility room. One entire wall consisted of a single large interactive computer screen continually playing live views of Hong Kong. A long narrow table with keyboards, microphones, and communication devices faced the monitor.

  “Have a seat and enjoy the view while I organize my notes, she said, releasing the hand she’d held because the physical contact was necessary to open his mind to hers. Oh yes, she had mind-fucked him good.

  Soon, the single screen divided into two rows of five equal rectangles, each with a traditional blue head and shoulder silhouette icon. Sen sat passively looking like a student sitting with his hands folded on the table, silently waiting for class to begin.

  Katya paced like a college professor in full lecturing mode. “Some fourteen hundred Chinese and Russian oligarchs currently pay the United States and Great Britain millions of dollars and euros for visas and the right to live in the country. Eight of these uber-wealthy men approached PSI Corps asked for assistance to gain control of the Middle East and insular Southeast Asian markets. Their goal is to destabilize the markets and the governments by creating chaos and conflict. Their first step, thanks to your science, Sen, will be to selectively assassinate key members of government and business in each region. Then using their collective resources, bribe and blackmail the surviving leadership into puppet hood. PSI Corp is the ideal covert security force that could provide the muscle for the many dark ops required to maintain control and ensure their takeover attempts.”

  He raised his hand.

  She ignored his offer to speak and continued. “Soon PSI Corps key leadership will self-destruct and will no longer be part of this picture. Our goal is to step into that vacancy and solve the oligarchs’ problem and get the money once earmarked for PSI Corps.”

  He raised his and spoke before she could cut him off. “How will you get control over PSI—”

  She glanced out of one of the penthouse windows overlooking Hong Kong below and slowly tapped her teeth with her fingernail. “By slowly buying control of the company and by convincing several bloated boys of the board, they need to kill themselves.”

  She spun around to face him. Her eyes glared, and she leered, "Guess who's going to be elected CEO, Subash?" She suppressed a laugh and returned to the window. "After our next gig, our annual income will be measured in billions.”

  Dr. Sen’s trance-like demeanor changed abruptly as his mind left the fog she had created and connected to her words. He looked positively giddy.

  Katya felt euphoric herself at the prospects. She spoke slowly for emphasis and tapped the back of his hand with each phrase. "This is the best part, Subash. Everything I am about to show you will be yours. You will remember my words as your words. My decisions will be your decisions. You will not remember that I was here to do this with you. This effort is all a part of your perfect retribution. Do you understand? You are getting even for what was done to your family."

  He nodded.

  “Use my name.”

  “Yes, Katya, I understand.”

  "Good boy. Now, I have something for you. It will be fun." She pointed to the large screen and the eight blue head and shoulder silhouettes. "When our friends log in to this, this . . .” she waved her hand as though chasing away an intruding insect. “Encrypted, Skype-like meeting. We will not see their faces. Instead, unlike the conference you made with the leaders of the Arabs and Jews, each person here has chosen an animated avatar and electronic voice. Their images will be computer-generated faces that will move according to the words they use. There will be no identifying accents or real names.” She stepped closer to the large screen and tapped on one of the bland icons. “Here’s the fun part I mentioned, Subash. When they see you, this is what they will see.” She selected an icon from her tab. The animated headshot of a Japanese samurai warrior complete with battle armor and sword appeared and leered at them.

  He grinned and clapped his fists.

  “I knew you’d like that. Watch what happens when I record something you say.” She touched her tab’s screen and whispered. “Give them a command.”

  His eyes flashed. "I require respect from each of you, or you will feel the power of my sword."

  “Excellent. Now watch.” She touched her tab again.

  Sen’s avatar’s face contorted on the screen to project the evil intent of a samurai warlord. The eyes narrowed, projecting the malice of a serpent. He sneered, “You will do as I say.” He turned to her, clapping his hands. “Can we do it again
?”

  Oh yes, he was hooked. Katya wasn’t surprised. She had planned every step with careful precision. “Yes, I’ll put the playback on a delay so you can talk and listen while I set up a couple of things.” She was ready, she’d been ready for hours, but she wanted him to familiarize himself with the program. She wanted him comfortable with it. When she felt he was totally consumed by his samurai play, she surreptitiously completed his training.

  She stood behind him, hesitated, and wondered if he was truly under her control. When she tentatively touched his hand, he became still. "Once I begin the meeting, you will remain a silent observer, but in your memory of this event, it will be you were the one speaking to them and that they are speaking to you. You will observe and remember what everyone says. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Katya.”

  “I want you to tell me one more time. Do you know how to create a smart killing virus?” She raised a finger. “One SKV that can insert a specific DNA tag in any person?”

  “Yes, Katya.”

  “Excellent. It’s time for the meeting. Relax and remember. The word is Showtime.”

  * * *

  Katya watched as the blue head and shoulder silhouettes abruptly change to avatars. Seeing their choices, she appreciated Henri’s app enhancer adhered to her wishes that the app includes text labels such as Russian1812 and Mao1958. Not a fan of esoteric labels, Katya chose a realistic rendering of a generic young woman without numbers for her own avatar. “Welcome,” she said, opening the virtual gathering. I have only one agenda today, and that is to report on my progress for Operation Rapture.”

  The buzzer said Ba8 and the head of a Viking warrior spoke. “Why the religious reference? Must we offend unnecessarily?”