William Tyree - The Fellowship

Speers stood in the back of the room, churning his right hand in a circular motion to get Carver to hurry up.

“Fast forward a couple of years,” Carver continued. “The company’s assets in the U.S. were frozen due to tax delinquency, and they needed money. So they accepted a commission from the Chinese government to improve child nutrition in rural areas. They got way more than they bargained for. LifeEmberz created a new breed of supercattle, achieved by leveraging a blend of mitochondrial DNA and nuclear DNA, and using what Zhu calls extreme cloning techniques. In the past week, they’ve told audiences at Oxford, University of Edinburgh and Sapienza University that they’ve reduced the per-animal cloning process to less than a week.”

“Impressive,” Shipmont remarked without enthusiasm. “But from a security standpoint, I still don’t know why we care about this guy.”

Carver dropped his laser pointer. “We think the Chinese government commissioned LifeEmberz to work on military programs. We fear at least one might be a bioweapon. And we think another involves cloning, uh, supersoldiers.”

The room got quiet. The DD chuckled. “As in Attack of the Clones ?” she said, referencing the Star Wars storyline.

Speers stepped forward. “That’s right. Supersoldiers. A clone army. Go ahead and laugh, but I know people here in Washington who have discussed it with a straight face.”

“But it’s been difficult to get to Zhu,” Carver said. “So when we heard that LifeEmberz was going on the lecture circuit, we decided to use the opportunity to get close to him.”

The DD leaned forward. “Get close to him?” she said. “Why didn’t we just hack in and plant the malware remotely?”

Oh yeah, Carver thought. For that matter, why didn’t they just take him out with a drone strike? He was so tired of questions like this. Any operation that required an actual human on the ground was automatically questioned, and anything that could be handled via remote control from a secret government facility in the states was automatically applauded. Nobody understood that espionage was still a high-touch business. It was as much about psychology and relationships as it was technology.

Speers scratched his salt-and-pepper goatee. “Blake, I think Claire’s question is a reasonable one. Why did we need an operative on the ground to hack into a phone?”

“Stealth” Carver said quickly. “Every LifeEmberz employee, including Zhu, now uses a device that’s issued by the Chinese government. If we hacked into their network to get control on one or more specific mobile accounts, it’s only a matter of minutes or hours before they detect the intrusion and start looking for us. Our solution is completely local, and allows us to reach one user at a time without the risk of getting past numerous gatekeepers. This way, the malware could theoretically go undetected for as long as he used the phone.”

“Smart,” the DD admitted. “But expensive.”

“We just got some footage of Zhu’s lecture from our contact in Rome,” Carver said. “I think you’ll find one part of the presentation very illuminating.”

The door to the back of the room opened. It was Arunus Roth, and he looked even paler than usual. He drew an imaginary line across his neck.

“Sorry, everyone,” Carver said. “We’ve gotta cut this short. Thanks for coming. I’ll reach out to each of you to reschedule.”

As the suits filed out of the room, Arunus Roth made his way to the front. “The hit and run victim is Spencer Griffin,” he said.

Carver sat down. “And Zhu?”

Roth shook his head. “Callahan overheard the other LifeEmberz employees saying they can’t get hold of him. They think he might have been kidnapped.”

Carver’s blood ran cold. If Zhu really was working on some sort of supersoldier project, or even an advanced bioweapon, there could be any number of countries that might want the secrets he had locked up inside his head.

“Well, we know where he is, right? Maybe we should go in.”

“Slow down, bro.”

“Don’t call me bro.”

Carver looked up. Speers was standing behind the kid. He had heard the entire thing. “You’re asking for the go ahead to extract Zhu?”

“Think about it. His employees are convinced he’s been kidnapped. If we could find him, we could bring him back to the U.S. for his own safety. And in the process, of course, have a chat or two about the work he’s been doing.”

“I was trying to tell you,” Roth said, “That’s not possible now. The phone, as far as we can tell, traveled very quickly three kilometers away. Zhu either went underground, or into something like an elevator or parking facility, or he pulled the battery out. The GPS just stopped chirping.”

“So we’re completely blind,” Carver snapped.

“Yes.”

“Where the hell was Callahan?”

It wasn’t that the field operative was at fault, Carver knew. He wasn’t even supposed to tail him — the malware in his phone was supposed to keep tabs on him. It was just that Carver wished it had been him there in Rome. He was jealous. This remote operations consulting stuff wasn’t him. He had been born to be out in the wild, not cooped up here, thousands of miles from the action.

Hotel Parking Garage

Rome

During his 15-year career in private security, Lars had purchased virtually every type of made-to-order armored vehicle imaginable. They had all been good. Mercedes Benz especially, which had created a protective car for Japan’s Emperor Hirohito way back in 1930.

But nearly as soon as he had left private practice to follow the Shepherd, he had sensed that the Great Mission would require something special. The Range Rover he drove now had been custom-ordered from a private company in Johannesburg, where the city’s troubled past had given the company plenty of real-world experience. The glass and door paneling had been built to his exact specifications, rated to stop up to four successive 7.62 NATO armor-piercing bullets within a three-inch radius. The tires were airless run-flats, with reinforced steel that would withstand just about anything except a bomb.

Fortunately, they didn’t face such heavy firepower tonight. Lars recognized the typewriter-on-steroids rattle of MP5 submachine gun fire. It sounded like the assailants’ weapons were set to fire in three-round bursts, which they were squeezing off about as fast as they could. They were using 9mm rounds, he thought, instead of the.40 Smith amp; Wesson rounds preferred by the Americans and Canadians. With those guns, the Range Rover could easily take several dozen 9mm rounds into the vehicle’s glass and doors without any ballistic leakage.

He just couldn’t let them reload.

“I can’t die yet!” Zhu shouted.

Wolf had reminded Lars of that very fact just hours ago. Zhu was destined to survive. It was in the Living Scriptures. And when he has gathered all that is necessary to know to bring all that is dark into the light, the One from the East will use her to make me anew, just as I have made you anew.

The way Lars saw it, they had three choices. The first was to try out-driving their attackers. So long as the run-flat tires held, they might have a chance, although the Mini would be faster and more agile in traffic. The second option was to fight back. Lars had a Glock ACP in his ankle holster and, under the seat, a TEK-9 machine pistol, which fired.45 caliber rounds and had been converted to fully automatic. The third option was to use the vehicle as a weapon. It was, after all, built like a tank.

He reached into the floorboard and grasped Zhu by the collar, pulling him up into the seat. “Buckle up.” He put the vehicle in reverse and backed up slowly. He wanted to stay within range of the assailant’s guns. He wanted them to stay where they were. “Brace for impact.”