Now the man was back. Why?
“He’s alone, Captain.” Tolliver shifted his assault rifle in his arms.
“But he wasn’t earlier.”
“No, sir. Verified that through the perimeter guard’s notes. That’s how I checked his ID.”
“What does he want to talk to me about?”
Tolliver shook his head. “He wouldn’t say, sir.”
Curiosity filled Remington. He knew the agency was a big factor in securing the humint—human intelligence—so necessary in waging the ground war against the Taliban in Afghanistan. During the Vietnam War, the CIA hadn’t enjoyed a good reputation, but as far as the Fitzhugh administration was concerned, the agency seemed unable to do any wrong. Remington knew the truth didn’t match up with the public image. The undercover agent Goose and his team had extricated only that morning proved that.
“Bring the man in, Sergeant,” Remington ordered. “I want him unarmed and under heavy guard. Treat him like a potential hostile.”
“Yes, sir.” Tolliver saluted, turned a sharp about-face, and left the room.
Remington spun and faced the tech team again, catching several of them just turning away. In the space of a drawn breath, he was staring at the backs of their heads again as they strove fruitlessly to reconnect the lines of communication.
The captain kept his attention forward when the sergeant returned with the CIA section chief moments later. He pushed his breath out slowly and chased his anger and frustration into a corner of his mind. Those emotions had their place, but now he needed the calm cool he was noted for.
“Captain Remington,” Tolliver said. “Agent Cody is here.”
“What can I do for you, Agent Cody?” Remington posed the question without turning to face the man.
“You can’t do anything for me, Captain,” Cody stated in his unctuous voice.
Remington spun on the man with the compact ferocity of a hunting cougar. “Then you’re wasting my time, mister.”
Section Chief Cody flinched and took a half step back before he caught himself. He looked rumpled and definitely the worse for wear. His coat had been taken from him, leaving him in a sweat-stained white shirt and suit pants. His empty shoulder holster hung under his left arm.
“Captain,” Cody said, “I assure you that—”
Remington raised his voice, blowing Cody’s words away. “I sent my men to recover one of your lost agents just over two hours ago.
The hostile who escaped sent a signal that triggered the Syrian attack against Turkey—”
“You don’t know that,” Cody argued.
Remington cursed, beating the CIA agent down verbally till he closed his mouth in surrender. Embarrassment pinked Cody’s ears and cheeks, and he blinked rapidly as he struggled to hold the Ranger captain’s fierce gaze.
“I’m thinking seriously of having you placed under arrest and thrown into the brig until we can sort out the disappearances of my people,” Remington said.
“What disappearances?” Cody asked.
Remington studied the man. If the CIA agent was feigning surprise, he was doing a credible job. Remington pointed at the stacks of uniforms. Unwilling to release the exact number of losses within his group, he said, “I’ve had people disappear while they were sitting in front of me. I never saw a thing.”
Cody was in motion at once. He walked toward the nearest uniform. “Then it’s started.”
Remington was so surprised at the man’s movement that he was slow to react. Tolliver stepped forward immediately, reversing his weapon and slamming the butt into Cody’s head. The CIA section chief dropped. Before he could try to get up, the sergeant placed a foot on the back of his neck, pinning Cody facedown against the floor. Tolliver planted the muzzle of his M-4A1 in the man’s left ear.
“What are you doing?” Cody demanded. His voice came out raw and rasping. Panic widened his eyes. His hands flailed.
“Don’t move,” Tolliver snapped.
Cody froze.
Remington eyed the man with renewed interest. “What’s started?”
Tentatively, Cody rolled his head over so he could peer up. “I came here in good faith.”
“This time?” Remington showed him a thin smile.
“Both times,” Cody insisted. “I was under orders, Captain. Surely you can appreciate that. I was told to keep your knowledge of Icarus’s mission to a minimum.”
“So you chose not to tell me that the people holding your undercover guy could trigger the attack?”
“We didn’t know that.” Blood showed on Cody’s cheek where Tolliver shoved the rifle muzzle.
“But you suspected it.”
“We didn’t know what Icarus had.”
“And now you do?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t know where he is.”
Remington digested the news. The communications had been off too long after the initial attack for Remington to tell Goose not to release the wounded agent from his sight. During the confusion of rescuing the survivors of the attack on Glitter City, Icarus had disappeared either on his own, with help, or had been abducted by a team Cody had planted with the media people.
“Did you have a rendezvous point set up?” Remington asked.
“Of course we did.”
“Then why didn’t Icarus make it?”
Cody hesitated till Tolliver prodded him with the rifle barrel. “I don’t know.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came back here to offer help,” Cody said.
“What kind of help?”
“Your computers have been infected with a virus. Not just the ones here, but all those along the line. Probably all the computers involved in this operation.”
“That’s not possible. There are security measures, firewalls, all along the way.”
“This morning,” Cody pointed out, “you would have said that the Syrian attack was not possible.”
Remington said nothing.
“The Syrians have been planning this attack for over a year,” Cody said. “They penetrated the mil-net at least a few weeks ago.”
“With Icarus’s help,” Remington said, remembering the information he’d gotten from the man while he’d been in Goose’s custody.
“We think they were in before that. The CIA is not totally culpable in this.”
“Telling me we’ve been hit with a virus—even if it’s true, which I doubt—isn’t help.”
“I know.” Cody acted patient, like a parent talking to an unruly child, and Remington totally disliked the behavior. “I can give you access to another satellite system.”
Remington curbed his frustration
