eyes and ears everywhere.
“General? Jesus, sir, what time is it?”
“Almost 0600. Gimme something that Wolf Blitzer doesn’t already know.”
“Can’t do it, sir. I’ve been asleep. Just spent a day getting tortured, you know?”
“Bullshit. You went through stuff worse than that in boot camp. We’ve got a session at 0900 with the alphabet agencies, and it would take too long for you to drive, so the Lizard has laid on a helicopter to bring you and Summers back here. Where is she, anyway? Tried her room and no answer.”
Kyle took time to yawn and sound sleepy. “I don’t know, General. Probably out for a run. I’m not her keeper.”
“Excellent. I ran three miles before breakfast myself and have been at my desk since five. Go get her and get on that bird.”
“Three miles before breakfast. You are one hell of a Marine, sir,” Kyle said.
“Hoo-ah,” said the general and hung up.
Sybelle leaned against the adjoining door, a white towel around her and her beeper in her hand. “I have a message to call him.”
“Forget it.” He was leaning on his elbows, looking at her. “He has a helicopter coming in to fetch us back to the Pentagon.”
“Damn, Kyle. This is what I meant last night when I told you the stress was getting to me. It never ends. Last night was great, but both of us know there is no future for any relationship. There is only room for work, and I almost feel like a traitor for having sex with you.”
“Yeah. It would only complicate things.” It was the first time he had had a serious sexual interlude since the death of Shari Towne. “But thanks for rescuing me yesterday, in more ways than one.”
She let the towel fall and dropped the beeper on top of it. “Hoo-ah.”
Precisely at 0845, a shining black government SUV was waiting at the Pentagon and all four members of Task Force Trident climbed aboard. “Sar’nt Johnson! Take us to the Old Exec and go in through the gate. It’s next to the White House. You know where that is, I assume.”
“Excuse the general’s abrupt manner, Sergeant,” said Kyle. “He ran three miles before breakfast and then drank too much coffee.”
The driver managed a smile. They were already out of the parking lot and into traffic. “Fast or medium fast, sir?”
“Fast,” replied the general, and the sergeant clicked on the siren and lights and swerved into a hole between two yellow cabs, setting off a round of horn honking.
In the rear, the Lizard looked at Sybelle with a strange smirk.
“What?” she said.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking.” He blushed and looked away.
A private and secure conference room had been set aside for them on the second floor of the Old Executive Office Building, and it was empty when Middleton led his team down the checkerboard-tile hallway to an office that was guarded by a uniformed member of the U.S. Secret Service. From the outside, the location seemed no different than any other in the busy office building, but the old wooden door opened into an airlock, and just inside, a step put a visitor above a false floor and into a slightly smaller room that also had a false ceiling and soundproof glass. Sound was imprisoned within the room.
“Send them in, please,” said General Middleton as they entered, and the Trident group went ahead and took chairs around a table. The Secret Service agent opened the door again, and two more people entered.
Agent Carolyn Walker looked refreshed, in a starched white blouse with a crisp collar and tailored gray pin- striped trousers. The night at home had helped her. Dave Hunt of the FBI still appeared disgruntled but was in a different suit. Their eyes took in the four people waiting for them, and puzzlement was written on their faces because they had put one of them through the wringer the previous day and another one had threatened to kill both of them.
“Please, have a seat,” said Middleton, sweeping his hand toward vacant chairs. He smiled. “Thank you both for coming over on such short notice.”
“General, what is this about?” asked Walker. The urgent summons to attend this meeting had left her in a foul mood. The Old Exec was neutral ground, neither Pentagon military nor government granite. It guaranteed no home field advantage for bickering agencies.
“Simply put, you two are back in the game.” Middleton leveled his gaze at them but did not raise his voice.
“And what game is that, exactly?” asked Hunt.
“Probably the biggest of your careers.” The general opened his file and slid out the picture of Juba. “You took this in Paris, right? The subject’s code name is Juba, and he is a motivated and extremely skillful terrorist operative. We believe he is about to hit the United States with a poison gas weapon much larger than the one that went off in London. We have to stop him.”
Walker nodded but put the picture aside. “We want to help, believe me, but I don’t take orders from you, General.”
“Me either,” said Hunt, his voice not much more than a growl. “I’m FBI, and she is Department of Homeland Security. We have our own chain of command. I know the letter that woman waved at us yesterday outranked us for the time being, but that was then. Big difference.”
Middleton was unperturbed. “Earlier this morning, the directors of both of your agencies signed authorizations of temporary duty assignments for you. Now you’re mine.” He slid a document to each of them to verify his statement. “You are veteran and experienced agents, cleared for Top Secret material and beyond, so here it is. Everything I am going to tell you is above top secret.”
“Way above,” agreed the Lizard, pointing a finger toward the ceiling. He had opened his laptop. “Big way.”
The general glanced over. “That is Lieutenant Commander Benton Freedman, our do-it-all electronics and communications officer. Next to him is Marine Captain Sybelle Summers, whom you met yesterday. And finally, the man you captured, Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Swanson, also USMC. The four of us make up Task Force Trident, and that is what you are now attached to.”
“So it’s a military black op outfit?”
“Is Swanson an assassin? We saw him shoot Saladin.”
“Let’s just say he is a specialist,” Middleton replied smoothly. “And, no, we are not really a military unit at all. We just carry the baggage for Swanson. Now, the reason you could not identify him yesterday is that he is officially dead, with a headstone at Arlington to prove it. Every record was scrubbed clean a couple of years ago. Swanson was the best scout-sniper in the Marine Corps and specialized in black ops. His death was staged to create a unique place in which he could still operate under the deepest of covers. He simply ceased to exist. The Invisible Man.”
“Excuse me, General,” said the Lizard in a quiet voice.
Middleton ignored him, concentrating on the sales pitch. “Trident was set up to support Swanson. We work for him, because he needs specialized backup, and putting him under the Department of Agriculture didn’t seem appropriate. Don’t worry, this is totally legitimate, just way off the books.”
Walker rubbed her eyes. “This is confusing. Why do you want us involved when you have all of the Pentagon resources under your thumb?”
Kyle finally spoke. “Because you both impressed me. You not only snatched me off the street in France and got away with it, but you also were willing to bend the rules to get the answers you needed. I want that kind of help for this job.”
“General Middleton.” The Lizard again tried and was ignored.
Kyle continued, “You continue to run your normal operations and use every trick in your books, but cut us in on everything and help push things along with any special needs we might have. Nobody knows about Trident, but everyone jumps when the FBI or DHS shows up on their doorstep. You two bring a lot to the table for this job.”
“You’re going to kill this guy? We can’t go along with another assassination. That Saladin hit was obviously illegal, but it was done on foreign soil.”
