the insider. The only person who could identify the terrorists.”
“So when the insider realized what was going on, he or she hit the Self-Destruct key,” Dodge said. “Why the delay, though? Cut it a bit fine. If we hadn’t DoSed the UAS, then we’d be toast by now and so would the insider. Why wait until the last minute?”
“I’m not sure,” Sam said.
Dodge said, “If it was one of us, then who?”
“I don’t know,” Sam admitted.
“The security cams would have recorded everything. I’ll call Jaggard and ask him to review the footage.”
He reached for the airphone.
Sam put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “If there’s a traitor inside CDD,” he said, picking his words carefully, “how do you know it’s not Jaggard?”
“I don’t. How do you know it’s not me?”
“I don’t. But I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
“Okay, we’ll check it ourselves when we get back. I’ll hack into the security system so that we don’t have to formally request access.”
Sam nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“I can’t believe it’s Jaggard, though,” Dodge said. “I’ve known him a long time.”
“Who, then? Kiwi? Vienna? Gummi?”
Dodge said, “I don’t know. There’s no reason to suspect any of them. Nor Socks or Zombie.”
“Or even Swamp Witch,” Sam said slowly.
The plane banked slightly, and through the window, Sam could see a dark scar on the desert: a ruined city, crushed and blackened buildings emanating from a huge crater.
Dodge saw him looking.
“Vegas,” Dodge said. “Not easy to look at, is it?”
Sam shook his head.
“Better get some kip,” Dodge said, settling in for a nap. “It might be your last chance for a while.”
The seat folded flat and was surprisingly comfortable, although quite narrow and not quite long enough for Sam’s legs. He couldn’t sleep, though, and after a while, he asked Marie for a neuro-headset and watched old cowboy movies inside his head as the sixteen-elephant-long flying hotel glided smoothly over darkened Midwest states.
Later, in the dim light of the cabin, with the rush of the wind outside just a warm cocoon of noise enveloping him, he remembered to ask.
“Dodge. You still awake?”
“Am now.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. What is it?”
“You said you had met two freaks in your life. One was Swamp Witch. Who was the other?”
“You,” Dodge replied sleepily. “Good night, Sam.”
24 | CHICAGO
Dark men emerged from dark cars as they approached an intersection just a block from the river, guns strapped across their chests. Chicago PD SWAT officers, according to the badges and markings on their uniforms.
They checked Dodge’s and Sam’s IDs, then directed them to a small cafe on the next block.
Dim blue lights placed on tables gave them just enough light to see by, without showing through the heavy drapes that were pulled across all the windows.
A figure in Tactical coveralls hurried over. A black face mask hung low around his neck.
“We’re just finalizing our operational plans,” Tyler said. “Please join us.”
They followed him to a large hand-drawn diagram spread out on a table.
“Okay, guys, here’s the situation. The tangos are in an apartment, in a block on the other side of the street. About thirty yards north of us. The apartment is on the third floor.”
There were at least sixteen Tactical troops gathered around the table, and other chairs and tables had been stacked against the walls to make room.
Tyler continued, “Police have sealed off a four-block perimeter. The river is also being patrolled, in case they should escape and make it that far.”
He looked around at Dodge and Sam, and Sam had the feeling that Tyler had already been through this and was doing it again just for their benefit.
“Are you sure these are the terrorists who attacked us?” Sam asked.
“Vienna traced a video link from the server farm that launched the diversionary attack,” Tyler said. “It led right here. Solid enough for you?”
Sam nodded.
Tyler said, “Thermal imaging shows us two targets inside the apartment, currently sitting at computers. They haven’t moved from the computers since we’ve been monitoring them, no toilet breaks, no food, nothing. This suggests they’re in the middle of something.”
“Any activity on the wire over at CDD?” Dodge asked.
“No, nothing yet. But we want to get in there and shut them down as soon as we can. We have a sniffer pipe pulling air in from the apartment, and analysis shows traces of both cordite and ammonia, so it’s a safe assumption that they’ve got both weapons and explosives in there.”
He turned to the diagram, drawn in marker pens on a large sheet of paper on the table in front of them and illuminated with flashlights at each corner.
“The apartment block is roughly square in shape, with a central courtyard. The target apartment is on the far side. There’s an interior balcony off the apartment that hangs over the courtyard. That’s going to be our primary entry point. We’ll rappel in from the roof and hit the windows with a glass crusher from one of the apartments opposite. We’ll take out the front door simultaneously. Flashbang grenades from the window, and from the door, glycerol fog canisters. We’ll take out the power before we go in, of course, but they’ll have a backup power supply, so our main objective is to disconnect the tangos from their computers before they have a chance to do any damage. We’re using handguns, not automatic weapons. First round in the chamber will be a puffer, after that the hard stuff. Questions?”
Lots, thought Sam, who hadn’t understood half of it but didn’t want to appear stupid and ask.
A bleeping came from Tyler’s belt, and he pulled out a cell phone, reading the screen before announcing, “Okay, team, we have operational confirmation from CDD HQ. Plan is approved; we are good to go. You know your positions.”
Tyler picked up a neuro-headset from a table and positioned it carefully on his head.
“Dodge, Sam, there’s a couple of spare headsets on the far table, next to the monitors,” he said. “If you want to come for the ride.”
“I thought CDD didn’t use neuro,” Sam said to Dodge.
“We don’t,” Dodge said. “But Tactical make their own rules. They’ve been using neuro for years for nonverbal communication. Talking to each other during missions without actually making a sound. Now they’re fully equipped with video and audio feeds. Gear up—this’ll blow your mind.”
The Tactical version of a neuro-headset was unlike any others Sam had seen. It consisted of a rubberized wire framework that held the sensors. It was malleable enough to be shaped into position on your head, rather than being tightly compressed onto your skull. A short cable led to a compact receptor unit with a radio aerial.
“Don’t switch it on yet,” Dodge said. “You’ll want to be sitting down first.”
“Sitting down?”
“With the audio and video feeds, it’s just like being there. But you’ll need to sit down; otherwise you’ll end up falling over. You’ll be seeing what they see, in real time, and your body will tend to react.”
