Maden Mike - Tom Clancy Firing Point

“So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Gosh, I dunno where to start. There’s so much to talk about.”

“Try the beginning.”

“Okay. I’ll start with Sammler.”

Jack sat up. “You found him?”

“No. You did. That guy you killed? Bykov?”

“Wait. How did you know that I killed him?”

“Dellinger uploaded a report on you. He was nice enough to include the Bykov autopsy photo, which is how I ran down his ID. My face re-creating program wasn’t cutting it.”

“You hacked into the CIA mainframe?”

“Had to. I’m on overwatch, keeping an eye out for my buddy in the field.”

“Well, thanks for that. So why do you think Bykov is Sammler?”

“I don’t. Sammler isn’t a person, it’s an organization. I mean, it’s all rumors and hearsay. But if half of what’s out there is true, these guys are way beyond the pale. They break a lot of things and hurt a lot of people for anybody for the right price. Or used to.”

“What do you mean?”

“They dropped off the radar a few years back. Rumor was they disbanded. But these people are evil. Like, Evil Empire storm trooper evil. The kind of evil that doesn’t just quit. Think of Wagner, only worse.”

“Dellinger told me just this morning that Bykov was ex-Wagner, ex–Russian military, and reported dead long before I killed him.”

“You killed a dead guy? That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

“I’m starting to see why you think Bykov was Sammler. He was ex-military. Most contracting outfits recruit those kinds of guys and Sammler is a contractor.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “Oh, man, these Sammler guys aren’t like any other contractors you ever heard of. They’re real old school. They’re all about the money, for sure, but not just the money. They’ve got some kind of a loyalty cult. Sort of a cross between the samurai Bushido code and Legio Patria Nostra. ”

“‘The Legion is our homeland,’ the motto of the French Foreign Legion.”

“Yeah. And toss in a little Mafia omertà on top and a dose of Fight Club and all of a sudden you have a band of super secret, super loyal, psycho-killer blood brothers who never talk about themselves or what they do.”

“That explains why it was so hard to find van Delden before. Maybe he was with Sammler, too.”

“Get this. They’re so serious about their honor and loyalty that they do that Cold War thing where they put a cyanide capsule under a false tooth in order to take themselves out rather than get captured.”

Jack suddenly saw the puzzle pieces falling into place. “After I punched Bykov in the mouth, he rubbed his chin and gave me this weird little smile before he dropped dead.”

“I’m waiting for the Spanish coroner to file his complete autopsy report, but I’ll bet you a bag of Popeyes fried chicken sandwiches that it’ll show cyanide or some other poison.”

Jack’s mind flashed back to the steel mill. “Now that I think about it, van Delden slammed his fist into his jaw a couple of times just before he jumped over the railing. I couldn’t figure out why. I guess when his capsule didn’t work, he knew the only way he wasn’t going to get captured was to kill himself the hard way. I’ll be damned.”

“And if Bykov really was with Sammler, you know what that means.”

“It means Sammler is responsible for Renée’s murder. And Laia’s. And Peña’s. What the hell are these guys up to?”

“And maybe Runtso’s murder, too. Unless Runtso was only collateral damage.”

“Speaking of Runtso, any progress on the RAPTURE project?”

“Oh! Yeah. That’s the second thing I wanted to tell you about.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, I’m still not exactly sure what RAPTURE is but I know where it is—Oak Ridge, Tennessee. It’s connected to the Oak Ridge National Laboratory.”

“Oak Ridge, as in, the Manhattan Project?”

“Yup. More brainiacs per square mile than, well, I dunno where. Nuclear weapons research. Fusion research. Quantum mechanics. Materials science. Aerospace engineering. Precision manufacturing. You name it, they do it all, and they do it for the DoD, DoE, NASA, and even the private sector.”

“Maybe I should head down to Oak Ridge.”

“Only if you want to get arrested and renditioned out to a Romanian secret prison. There’s no way anyone not in that program can know about that program. You will be presumed guilty of espionage until you can prove your innocence, which is kinda hard to do when you’re shackled to a basement wall with a car battery jumper-cabled to your McNuggets.”

Jack’s head still throbbed but a shot of adrenaline suddenly cleared his mind.

“You said before that Runtso was some kind of consultant? What company was he consulting for?”

“He was his own boss. His work address is in Knoxville, Tennessee.”

“That’s not too far from ORNL,” Jack said. “Or the University of Tennessee.”

“Go Vols!” Gavin said, pumping one fist.

“You are full of surprises tonight. I had no idea you were a football guy.”

“I’m not. Women’s basketball is where it’s at. Pat Summitt was one of the greatest NCAA coaches of all time. My mother used to play there. Mom and I never miss a game.”

They rolled along for a few minutes, Jack’s mind turning back to Runtso.

What was a nuclear physicist doing in Spain? Why sneak into Barcelona?

Was it a coincidence that a CIA operative working for a technology front was in the same restaurant as he was?

Or was he intentionally coming there to meet her?

Or was he there to meet Aleixandri?

Was Runtso delivering some kind of a warning about RAPTURE to Renée or selling secrets to Brigada Catalan?

Did Sammler intend to kill Runtso or was he collateral damage?

And maybe the most important question of all:

Was Sammler somehow connected to RAPTURE?

“Questions are more powerful than answers,” his dad always used to say. Right now, he’d settle for answers. Questions like these only made his head hurt more than it already did, especially when the answers were so far out of reach.

Jack knew that the key to answering those questions was to figure out whether Runtso was a patriot or a traitor. And the answer to that question wasn’t going to be found in the cab of a Chevy Silverado.

“I’ve got to go to Knoxville and chase down this lead on Runtso.”

“I’m going with you.”

“I don’t think so, Gav. You never know what kind of trouble might be waiting down there.”

“The team’s not back yet. You’re the only operator in the area. And you know the rules. You never go in alone.”

“Gav—”

“Look, RAPTURE is technical, whatever it is, and you’re, well, physical. I’m the technical guy. So you go do the physical stuff, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I want to head out first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Let’s get you back to your place and you can take care of your business, and maybe even take a shower. I’ll make all of the arrangements and text you with the flight schedule as soon as I have it. Deal?”

Jack’s head hurt too much to argue.

“Deal.”

57

LABRADOR SEA

345 MILES DUE SOUTH OF THE GREENLAND COAST

The tip of the shark’s dorsal fin slipped beneath the surface of the frigid water.

Had anyone seen it, they might have thought it odd. The location was approximately nine hundred miles north of where RMS Titanic struck an iceberg and sank in April 1912.

No icebergs were floating around in the area this time of year. Most of the glacial calving on the coast of Greenland happened in the warmer temperatures of late spring and early summer.