“I’m a friend, Captain,” the man said.
“I know all my friends’ names,” Remington said. “It’s a short list.” He glanced around at the building rooftops, thinking that maybe the guy wasn’t a media person after all and that the Mercedes was a decoy to catch him off guard.
“There’s no one else here, Captain,” the man said. “Just us. I give you my word on that.”
“Private,” Remington said to his driver.
“Sir.”
“Secure this vehicle.”
“Yes, sir.” The private moved forward with his M-4A1 at the ready.
“I want the driver out, facedown on the ground.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If he resists, shoot him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Annoyance colored the Mercedes driver’s face. “Really, Captain, this isn’t at all necessary.”
“Who sent you here?” Remington demanded.
“A friend.” The man shrugged slightly. “I was a bit hasty in calling myself a friend of yours. I see that now. You’re obviously a very careful man. But after we get to know each other, I know that we will be friends.”
“Are you with the media?” Remington asked.
“No. But I do have a rather unique relationship with the media. I have … talents that they find useful, and that I find helpful in strategizing my other labors.”
The private set up on the driver’s side door. He reached for the latch but the door wouldn’t open. Instead, seemingly of its own volition, the driver’s window slid down.
“Private Horgan,” the driver said in a calm voice.
“Yes, sir,” Horgan responded. The private halted, frozen in his tracks.
“Your presence here won’t be necessary. Return to your vehicle and await the captain there.”
The private stood for a moment longer, then shook his head. Without a word, he lowered his weapon, turned, and walked back toward the RSOV.
“Private,” Remington called. “Private. Follow the orders I gave you.”
Horgan kept walking.
“Private, I gave you a command.” Incredulous, Remington watched the private return to the RSOV and take his seat behind the wheel. Horgan sat still and silent and peered straight ahead as if oblivious to everything going on around him.
“Captain.”
Turning to face the man in the Mercedes, Remington asked, “What did you do to him?”
“Merely convinced him that I’m not a threat to him. Or to you. I was able to do that because I am not a threat to you or to him. He knows the truth. I only wish I could convince you as easily.” The man opened his hands and smiled again. “Please, Captain, time presses all of us. I’ve got a number of things to accomplish today.”
Remington wanted to do nothing more than squeeze the M9’s trigger and put a bullet through the man’s smiling face. But he couldn’t. As yet, the man had only shown some kind of hypnotic effect over Private Horgan. Probably the man had already given the private a hypnotic suggestion before Remington had ever returned to the RSOV. Maybe he’d even received a mind-control drug through brief physical contact. The man driving the Mercedes wore gloves, and Remington knew that the CIA and DARPA had experimented with all kinds of mind-control weapons over the years.
If Hardin were here, Remington would have ordered the corporal to shoot the man and be done with it. But he wasn’t the corporal, and he had yet to kill a man in cold blood.
At least you haven’t killed one with your own hands, a voice whispered inside his head.
Remington felt guilty. He slipped his finger from the M9’s trigger. “I’m going to walk away. I suggest you put that vehicle in drive and go.”
“I can’t, Captain Remington. I’ve been assigned to help you.”
“Who are you?”
“Felix,” the man said. “You can call me Felix. It’s a name that will serve as well as any other, and I’ve gone by that name before.”
“All right, Felix, I want you to go away now.” Remington kept the pistol pointed.
Shaking his head regretfully, Felix said, “I don’t know what I’m going to have to do to convince you that I’ve been sent here to help you, Captain. We’re on the same side.”
“What side would that be?” Remington couldn’t help thinking that the mind-control Private Horgan was evidently under was something CIA Section Chief Alexander Cody would have access to. Was Felix one of Cody’s agents who hadn’t been seen before?
“Ah,” Felix said, nodding in understanding. “Paranoia. Do you know what causes paranoia, Captain?”
“I know what the business end of this 9mm pistol causes,” Remington responded. “You’re about to get that experience firsthand. I wouldn’t bet on living through it.”
“Paranoia,” Felix went on, obviously not feeling threatened at all, “is simply a discomfort that comes about when you don’t think you have control of a situation.” He waved at the war zone around them. “You’re standing in the greatest moment of paranoia in your life.”
Even Remington couldn’t argue that point.
“I’m here to help you,” Felix said smoothly. “A good friend of yours asked me to come to you.”
“Who?”
“Nicolae Carpathia.” Felix grinned.
“Carpathia?” Remington was confused. “I barely met the man over a couple videoconferences.”
“Nicolae has taken a special interest in you. He knows the kind of man you are, and the kind of man you are capable of becoming. Abu Alam’s fate is proof of that.” Felix paused, giving the Ranger captain a measuring glance. “I have to admit, when he first told me of you, I wasn’t too impressed. However, he insisted you could be of use.”
“Nobody,” Remington said, “uses me.”
“Pardon me, Captain. That isn’t at all what I intended to say. What I meant to say was that dear Nicolae insisted you were an asset worth developing. A relationship worth pursuing. You are a man who can … become so much if you’re only given the chance to follow your true nature.”
Remington was certain he didn’t like that any better. But he was stuck and didn’t know what to do. Felix had implied that he knew what had
