Brad Taylor - The Polaris Protocol

He said, “I know.”

And attacked.

78

I exited the bar out the back, dragging Booth with me and letting Knuckles, Decoy, and Blood handle the repercussions. It was a mess, but we knew what would happen going in. They had the cover story down, which was to act like a bunch of drunk service members here on temporary duty to NORTHCOM, at Peterson Air Force Base. With Booth out of the way, there was nobody who would contradict the story.

They’d either talk their way out of it or spend a night in jail. Either way, the Taskforce would back them up, and they’d get turned over to the “military” pretty quickly. Since I was out of the military and a full-fledged owner of a company that the Taskforce was worried would be exposed in twenty-four hours, I decided to take charge. Fleeing, as it were.

We came out the back patio and crossed the parking lot, me dragging Booth by the elbow. He kept complaining, moaning about how his rights had been abused, and I was considering just punching his lights out. The only question was whether carrying his dead weight would be worse than listening to his bullshit.

We crossed the alley and for the first time I noticed a scuffle near my car. Near Jennifer. I released Booth’s elbow and began to run, seeing it wasn’t a scuffle but a full-fledged fight to the death.

The battle spilled into the glow of a streetlamp, and I saw the Ghost trying to kill Jennifer. The image was completely surreal, like a nightmare come to life.

What the hell is he doing here? He hates me so much he gave up freedom to find me?

I reached the fight and hammered him in the small of his back, bringing him to his knees. I kicked the knife out of his hand and jerked his head up by the hair, causing his glasses to fly off. I raised my hand for a killing blow and heard, “Stop!”

I paused, seeing Jennifer with her hands on her knees, gasping for air. She looked up and said, “Don’t hurt him. Leave him alone.”

“What the hell are you talking about? He’s trying to kill us.”

The Ghost began to flex in my hands, and I lowered my grip, placing his head between my arms. I whispered in his ear, “Don’t move.”

He complied with the command, going limp.

I dragged him past Jennifer, to our car, and saw a body.

Jennifer rose up. Her face was pummeled and I saw a wicked slash on her forearm, bringing forth the rage again. I flung the Ghost against the door and he sagged to the ground, staring up at me.

I thought about killing him outright, and Jennifer said, “Pike. Don’t.”

Staring into his eyes, I said, “Why not?”

“He saved my life. He killed the man on the ground. If he hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead.”

For the first time, I looked closely at the body. It was the strange kidnapper from Mexico, which confused me even more. As is my nature, I decided force was the answer. I leaned into the Ghost, taking his hair into my hand and banging his head against the car door.

“What the fuck are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Jennifer grabbed my arm, stopping the assault, and the Ghost spoke. “I was trying to escape. But I guess you can never escape your destiny.”

He smiled at some inside joke and I turned to Jennifer. She said, “I don’t understand it any more than you. He saved my life, Pike. He really did.”

I felt movement over my shoulder and saw Booth doing a shuffling, rambling run. Like something out of a zombie apocalypse movie.

What the hell? Now this?

“Jennifer,” I said, “would you mind keeping that asshole from getting away while I have a conversation here?”

She took off, and I turned back to the Ghost. He looked up at me serenely. No fear and no regrets.

“What happened here? What’s she talking about?”

“She saved my life in Mexico. I made the mistake of returning the favor.”

His words sank in, but I was having a hard time assimilating them. It made no sense. The guy was a master terrorist who killed without remorse. Why the hell would he protect Jennifer?

“Are you telling me you saved Jennifer’s life here? Tonight? Interceded on her behalf?”

He smiled without any humor and said, “Unfortunately, yes.”

If what he said was true, he was putting me in a very awkward position. I couldn’t very well pummel the man who had saved Jennifer’s life. There had to be some ulterior motive. “But why? Why would you do that?”

I saw Jennifer coming across the parking lot, dragging that waste of flesh we knew as Arthur Booth. The Ghost said, “Because she helped me once, at great risk to herself. You give up what you are, and you are lost.”

“But you were trying to kill her just now. I don’t get it.”

His eyes closed and he said, “I don’t understand either. I’m sure you’ll get my answer in due time, inside my cell.”

79

I watched the Dulles runway lights approach and wondered what news was waiting on me about my team. I’d talked to Kurt immediately after leaving Blondie’s, and the decision had been made for me to pack up what I could and get Grolier Recovery Services out of the blast radius in Colorado Springs. We were still working to stop the Anonymous leak, which was set to fire in a little under twenty-four hours. If we couldn’t, the Oversight Council had decided that CNN’s making a link to the mess in Colorado Springs would be enough to cause further digging. Jennifer and I had bundled Booth, the Ghost, and the computer cell onto the Gulfstream with orders to get to Taskforce headquarters in DC, leaving the rest of the team behind.

The Oversight Council had been ecstatic at our success, of course. Initial reports from Operation Gimlet were positive, and the GPS constellation had held. No Wall Street collapse. No collapse of our cellular network or power grid. No collapse of our military capability. Three hundred million citizens of America went about their daily lives not realizing how close they’d come to Armageddon, but it was par for the course for the Taskforce. The public’s not knowing was the definition of success.

On the other hand, the Oversight Council did know, and I thought they were cheering a little bit early. On the phone call I had reminded Kurt the mission wasn’t over until extraction was complete. We still had some cleanup with Knuckles and the rest of the team. He was working it, and I wondered what had transpired during my flight.

We touched down and I dialed my phone. Kurt answered, saying he was in the Dulles FBO with a support package and was ready to receive. While I waited inside the plane, babysitting our detainees, the support package traveled out as if they were a maintenance crew, bringing all sorts of containers and tools to the aircraft. They entered and I pointed to Booth, saying, “Him first.” They went to work.

As they stuck a needle in his arm, sedating him, the last image I had of Arthur Booth was him blubbering in hitches, tears running down his cheeks. He was shoved in a container and wheeled away. I had no idea what they’d do with him, since he was an American citizen, but honestly, I didn’t really care.

The Ghost had sat silently, waiting on them to return for him. Stoic. Understanding his fate. Certainly no tears.

I could tell Jennifer was conflicted about the whole thing, but it was what it was. He was a terrorist who had killed Americans. Had tried to kill both Jennifer and me on different occasions. Had almost blown up Knuckles with an IED. Had come close to killing a ruling citizen of the United Arab Emirates and our own envoy in an attempt to destroy peace in the Middle East. If it hadn’t been for the Taskforce he would have succeeded, cheering about the deaths.

And yet he’d saved Jennifer from the Mexican hit man. Something that mattered greatly to me.