Daniel Suarez - Influx

“Go back to sleep, Cotton.”

He seemed genuinely concerned, and Davis enjoyed a little private victory at the sight.

“We would have arrived at Stateville by now. Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere. And I mean that literally: I am bringing you into the middle of nowhere.”

She could see the muscles of Cotton’s jaw tense. He thrust his face up to the wire and shouted, “You don’t have the right to do this! I’m supposed to be in Stateville!”

“Are you? According to whom?”

“Those were the terms of my cooperation. You’re violating the terms of my plea agreement.”

“It wasn’t my agreement.”

“You take orders from the federal prosecutor.”

Davis shrugged, enjoying his discomfiture. “Well, if you see him, be sure to mention it.”

The dull roar of jet aircraft came to them even over the engine noise of the armored van.

Cotton glanced up at the ceiling. “You’re not following the rules.”

“Suddenly rules are important to the terrorist bomber.”

The armored van slowed and turned, causing them all to lean.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Davis, but you’re risking my cooperation on this trial.”

“Duly noted.”

The tactical agents around her smirked, evidently pleased to hear someone putting Cotton in his place.

“It will vastly increase the length and cost of the proceedings.”

“No doubt.”

He examined her confident demeanor and apparently found it worrisome, but the van had now started to slow.

She smiled. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Where?”

Davis didn’t answer but instead turned away as the van stopped. Almost immediately the armored doors opened, and members of the security detail poured out. She stepped down as well, accepting Thomas Falwell’s hand as he walked up to greet her.

“Hey.” Falwell spoke over the thunder of distant jet aircraft. “They’re ready for you. And you weren’t kidding, these guys are serious.”

She looked around. “It looks like Bagram out here.” Stars filled the night sky around a crescent moon, but in the moonlight Davis could see what must have amounted to a mechanized company or two of heavily armed U.S. Marines in Stryker armored vehicles. Antiaircraft missile batteries were arrayed in defensive positions all around them. The hundred or so FBI agents who had escorted the motorcade this far were also disembarking and milling around with the soldiers.

There could easily be three hundred soldiers out there. The deep roar of jets still thundered above.

“We’ve got air cover, too.”

Davis turned to see the stunned face of Richard Cotton as he was lowered to the ground. He stared around in amazement at the military camp arrayed around them.

“What the hell is going on, Davis?”

He looked truly worried as she grabbed his waist chain and pulled him along. Falwell fell in behind her, as did the rest of the security detail. “Come here, Cotton, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“What in holy hell is going on?”

“Tsk, tsk, the Lord wouldn’t like you using that sort of language.”

“I demand to know what’s going on. I demand it!”

A Marine lieutenant directed her to a nearby Stryker armored command vehicle. As they approached, the rear hatch whined down to just a few inches off the pavement, revealing Jon Grady and Homeland Security Deputy Secretary Bill McAllen sitting on cushioned benches in the LED light.

Davis shoved a stunned Cotton inside, his chains rattling against the steel deck. “Cotton, you remember Jon Grady, right? One of your victims from the Chirality Labs bombing?”

Cotton collapsed onto the bench across from Grady and McAllen as Davis and Falwell slid in behind him.

A marine sergeant in a command chair turned back. “Hatch coming up. Watch your fingers.”

The rest of the security detail took posts outside as the armored door whined back up and boomed shut.

Cotton stared at Grady, apparently uncertain what to say.

Grady stared back. “They know about the Bureau of Technology Control, Cotton. And they also know you’re a BTC agent.”

McAllen leaned forward. “Mr. Cotton, I’m the deputy secretary of Homeland Security. My name is William McAllen. I’ve informed the BTC that you’ve decided to turn informer and are now under our protection.”

Cotton’s eyes went even wider, and he nodded to himself.

“The BTC thinks you’ve betrayed them. I think you’d be wise to help us bring them down.”

What came out of Cotton’s mouth next surprised them all. He took a deep breath and spoke calmly and evenly for the first time in Davis’s memory. “This is unfortunate timing. It really is.”

“Mr. Cotton—”

“I know you think you’re helping, but it’s actually going to ruin everything.”

McAllen held up calming hands. “I can offer you protection, but only if you give us the structure of the BTC organization—who’s in charge, details of their facilities.”

Cotton sighed and shook his head, looking at Davis. “Is he serious?”

Grady cast a confused look to Davis.

Cotton turned his attention to Grady. “I don’t know how you got away from them, Grady, but you’d better damned well go straight back. If we all go back to the way things were, there’s a chance—a slim chance—that we might not be dead come morning.”

McAllen sighed impatiently. “Mr. Cotton, there isn’t going to be any bombing trial. We know you’re not a bomber, and we know there aren’t any bombing victims. What we need to find out is where those people are and who’s running the BTC.”

Cotton laughed ruefully. “No bombing victims? Well, you’re wrong about that. The harvester teams only take the people they want. Everybody else gets killed.” He studied their reactions. “No, not by me.”

Grady felt crestfallen. “So… my partners are dead?”

“I’m sorry to tell you that, but listen to me…” Cotton leaned forward in his chains. “You’re about to join them. We all are if you don’t stop this and put me back where I was.”

“Mr. Cotton…”

Cotton suddenly struggled against his chains, shouting. “Damnit! I had this all worked out until you idiots screwed everything up. I should be in Stateville!” He started banging his helmeted head against the bulkhead.

Grady grabbed Cotton’s bulletproof vest. “You’re saying they’re dead? Tell me!”

“Yes, they’re dead. Don’t look at me; I didn’t kill them. I haven’t killed anybody, but they’re not about to grab useless people. They grab the best and kill the rest. That’s their motto.”

McAllen eased Grady away from Cotton. “Look, we need to know everything you can tell us about Graham Hedrick.”

“Oh, man…” He shook his head vigorously. “You have no idea how far ahead of you these people are.”

“What was your deal with them?”

“The deal was I got to live if I was useful. That was the deal. But I had other plans—plans you idiots have well and truly fucked up. I need to get out of here.”

“We can protect you.”

Cotton laughed bitterly. “Look, I’ve been crawling around in their world for a decade. I know what they’re capable of—and that’s why I want to get the hell out of this Styrofoam cup you’ve put us all in.” He gazed around at the armored vehicle.

McAllen nodded to a Marine captain nearby. “Get us under way.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cotton laughed again. “Under way? I’m sure that will stop them from frying our brains from orbit. Hey, did you talk to the others who’d tried to take down the BTC?”

“Others?”

“Oh, that’s right. You couldn’t. BECAUSE THEY’RE DEAD!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Now unchain me, and get me the hell out of this coffin!”