Nine Lives Page 2

  With a click, the track stopped. The target had reached the end of the range.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Dinner,” Chris said. “Salvatore’s.”

  “Salvatore’s?” Jordan asked. “Fine dining like that will cost you more than fifty bucks. More like two-hundred-and-fifty.”

  “I’m good for it,” Chris said. “Besides, this will be a walk in the park. Fastest fifty I ever made.”

  “You think so?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “You sound pretty confidant for a guy who’s about to pay for dinner.”

  “Just put on your eyes and ears and stand back,” Chris said.

  Jordan smiled. She put on her shooter’s safety glasses and ear protection.

  “Clear?” Chris called out.

  “Clear,” Jordan replied.

  “Range is hot,” Chris said. He removed his service weapon, took aim, fired off eight quick bursts, then returned the weapon to its holster and pressed the target RETURN button.

  The agents waited for the target to reach the front of the shooting stall. “You sure you don’t want to spring for McDonald’s instead?” Jordan asked.

  “Very funny,” Chris replied.

  When the target was halfway up the lane Jordan said, “I’ll even settle for Denny’s.”

  “Prepare to be schooled,” Chris teased. The target approached.

  “Last chance, Hanover,” Jordan said. “Outback Steak House. Final offer.”

  The target reached the front of the stall. Chris unclipped the paper sheet and presented it to Jordan. “What did I tell you?” he said. “Check it out. Eight shots. All within a half-inch grouping.”

  “Seven shots,” Jordan replied.

  “Say what?”

  Jordan held the target up to the light. One round had passed through the white ring surrounding the bullseye. “Seven in the middle, one outside.”

  “Damn.”

  “You lose,” Jordan said. “Tell you what. Rather than save you the embarrassment of asking me to go two out of three I’ll let you take me out anyway.”

  “So you’re saying this is a mercy dinner.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  Chris laughed. “That works for me. But I’m still paying.”

  “Damn right you are,” Jordan teased. “You still lost the bet.”

  “And you’re never going to let me forget it, are you?”

  Jordan smiled. “Probably not.”

  Chris laughed. “Salvatore’s it is,” he said.

  Jordan suddenly felt weak. She steadied herself against the shooters stand.

  Chris grabbed her by the arm. “Jordan? You okay?”

  The psychic impression came out of nowhere, caught Jordan off guard. “The children,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” Chris asked.

  “The children,” Jordan repeated. “Have to save the children.”

  CHAPTER 2

  LA FORTUNA, COSTA RICA

  COMMANDER BEN EGAN felt the heat of the sun on his neck. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away the sweat, and drove the final nail into the top rail of the dilapidated fence post. The physical labor felt good on his body. The return of a favor gave him peace.

  He had found this place two days ago, or perhaps it had found him. The DARPA super-soldier had teleported to a location several miles from here, high up in the mountains, and completed his final assignment: the termination of Taras Verenich; the man ultimately responsible for the death of the daughter of his mission handler, Dr. Jason Merrick. The field test of the Channeler and LEEDA projects, for which he was the principal subject, had been an unprecedented success. As a result, the technologies had become fully integrated within him. The supernatural powers he now possessed had made him both the most powerful weapon in the military and the most sought-after rogue government asset on the planet. He knew DARPA would soon send a capture/kill team after him. It was just a matter of time before they found him. Until then, his only priority was to stay alive.

  He heard the commotion, looked up, and stared at the man standing behind the main gate on the far side of the property. Two days ago, the man had slowed his car, pulled up alongside Ben as he walked on the dirt road, and asked what an American was doing wandering in the middle of nowhere. Egan lied, told him he was backpacking his way across the country. Asked when he had last eaten, Egan shook his head, said he couldn’t remember. There was no denying the man’s kind nature. He insisted he accept a ride and offered him a hot meal and a place to stay for the night. The offer was timely, too good to refuse, and Egan graciously accepted. On the drive, the man introduced himself as Hernando Diaz. Their destination was the orphanage of which he was both the founder and administrator: Casa de los Niños, also known as The Children’s House.

  The voices had become raised. Egan set down the hammer on the top rail and made his way across the compound to investigate the reason for the argument. Four men stood in front of a black Hummer parked outside the main gate. They were big men, enforcer types judging by the look of them. Their leader was a tall, thin man. Egan watched him press his finger into Hernando’s chest. Diaz knocked it aside.

  Egan called out as he walked past the main building toward the gate. “You boys lost?” he said.

  Diaz looked over his shoulder, raised his hand, tried to warn him off.

  The thin man muttered something under his breath.

  “Sorry,” Egan said. “I don’t speak Spanish, but I understand asshole fluently. It’s time for you gentlemen to leave.”

  “Please, Mr. Egan,” Diaz warned, “this is none of your concern.”

  “You’re right,” Egan replied. He reached the gate. “It’s not my concern. Which makes me the perfect mediator.”

  “What’s this, Hernando?” the thin man asked. He looked Egan up and down. “You have a new guard dog?”

  “Funny,” Egan replied. “This coming from a guy who needs backup just to have a conversation.”

  “I’ve got this, Ben,” Hernando said. “You don’t want to get involved with these men.”

  “Oh, they seem harmless enough,” Egan replied. “Ill-mannered perhaps, but harmless.”

  “Looks can deceive,” the thin man said. He flashed his watch. Cartier, solid gold.

  “Keep that in mind,” Egan replied.

  The four men began to walk from the Hummer to the gate.

  Egan looked their way, wagged his finger. “Stay,” he said.

  The thin man raised his hand. The men stopped, awaited further instruction. He turned his attention back to Diaz. “Remember what I said, Hernando. One week.” To his men he said, “Let’s go.”

  The men climbed into the Hummer. The thin man seated himself in the back between his two bodyguards. The driver hit the gas, spinning the vehicles tires, spraying dirt and rubble back against them. Egan waved goodbye.

  Hernando Diaz was angry. “Why did you do that?” he asked. “Those are dangerous men!”

  Egan watched the Hummer disappear down the road in a cloud of dust. “They don’t seem that tough,” he replied.

  “That’s because you don’t know them,” Hernando said. “That man is Diego Mendoza.”

  “Should that be important to me?”

  “He runs Los Paveños, the largest drug cartel in Costa Rica.”

  “What does a drug lord want from you, Hernando?” Egan asked.

  “It’s not me he wants,” Diaz replied. “It’s the children.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Diaz shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he said. “You embarrassed Mendoza in front of his men. He won’t allow that to go unpunished.”

  “Let’s assume for the moment that I can take care of myself,” Egan replied. In the yard, the youngsters played. Their teacher, Marcella Herrara, looked on. “Tell me more about Mendoza. What does he want from your kids?”

  The children ran past the men as they walked across the
yard.

  Hernando tried to conceal the anxiety in his voice. “Mendoza approached me several weeks ago and gave me this.” The director of the orphanage unbuttoned his shirt pocket and removed a piece of paper. He handed it to Egan.

  Egan read the amount of the check. “One million U.S. dollars,” he said.

  “It’s more money than I’ve seen in my lifetime,” Hernando replied.

  “Why did he give it to you?”

  Diaz explained. “Mendoza was raised in the slums. He is a child of the streets. Los Paveños took him in. They gave him food and shelter and asked for only one thing in exchange.”

  “Let me guess,” Egan said. “Loyalty.”

  “Precisely,” Diaz agreed.

  “But what does that have to do with you and the kids?”

  “He knows we rely on donations to stay afloat,” Hernando replied. “He said the money was a gift for me to use as I saw fit for the benefit of the children. But I know what he really wants.”

  “And that is?”

  “To own us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know how Los Paveños has grown. I’ve lost kids to them. They’re like a cancer. Once they attach themselves to an organization, it begins to metastasize. Soon they own everyone in it. They have dozens of legitimate companies, mostly in the manufacturing sector. But those of us who know better know the truth. All of their operations support one main aim: the manufacture, packaging and distribution of cocaine.”

  “But this is just an orphanage,” Egan said. “You have nothing of value to offer a drug cartel.”

  “They want to put the children to work packaging their product for street distribution,” Hernando explained. “He wants to pay me one million dollars in cash, each month, to give him control of the orphanage and my kids. What you witnessed was me declining his offer for the third week in a row.”

  “Let me guess,” Egan said. “He’s not the kind of guy who’s accustomed to taking no for an answer.”

  Hernando shook his head. “No, he is not.”

  “I can help you,” Egan said.

  “No, you can’t,” Hernando said. “No one can. Once Los Paveños sets their sights on you it’s only a matter of time before they take over.”

  Egan put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I don’t believe for a second you’d allow that to happen, Hernando.”

  “I’m only one man, Mr. Egan,” Diaz said. His voice broke. “I know that at the end of the day I’m powerless to stop them. I don’t care what happens to me, but I’d lay down my life to protect the children in my care.”

  “It will never come to that,” Egan replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s much you don’t know about me. Let’s just say I possess a certain skill set that is well-suited to dealing with a situation like this.”

  Diaz was curious. “What do you mean?”

  Egan shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”

  Hernando stepped back. “Tell me the truth, Ben. You’re not just wandering across the country. Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  “I’m just a guy repaying a favor, Hernando,” Egan replied.

  “And your past?” Hernando asked.

  Egan smiled. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

  CHAPTER 3

  JAMES MOORE WAS LAYING comfortably in his La-Z-Boy recliner in the living room of his Sarasota Florida home when something shattered the bay window and fell to the floor beside him. The boom that followed caused him to throw himself out of the chair and clamp his hands over his ears. The sound of the exploding concussion grenade was deafening, the ringing in his ears unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His first thought was for the safety of his wife, Yvonne. As he clambered to his feet and stumbled toward the kitchen in search of her a second boom erupted, this one coming from the front entrance to his modest two-story home, followed by the shuffling of boots over the linoleum floor and the yelling of commands issued with practiced authority: “Contact, front!” one man called out. “Clear, left!” said another. Then, “Contact, right!” They were yelling at him now. Three men pushed him down, then stood over him, their tactical rifles pointed at his head. “Stay down!” they demanded. “Don’t you fucking move!”

  This was no break-in, no home invasion. These men were highly trained U.S. military commandos.

  What in God’s name was a special operations unit doing in his home?

  Yvonne screamed.

  More yelling, coming from the basement now.

  His son was downstairs.

  Tommy!

  “Don’t you dare hurt my son!” Moore screamed as a second assault team raced past him, cleared the doorway and descended the stairs. He struggled as one of the soldier’s zip-cuffed his hands behind his back then dragged him to his feet. “What the hell is the meaning of this?”

  More yelling in the basement. “Down! Down! Down!” He heard the men come up the stairs, watched them as they dragged his son through the doorway and around the corner into the living room and threw him on the couch.

  The soldier that had taken him into custody spoke into the microphone secured around his throat. “Delta One to Command,” he heard him say. “Location secure. Three contained. No sign of the package.”

  “What package?” James yelled.

  “The computer files,” the soldier replied.

  “What computer files?”

  Colonel Hallier entered the premises. “Sir,” the soldier said. “We can’t find a computer anywhere on the premises.”

  “Tear this place down to the goddamn studs,” Hallier demanded. “Find it.”

  “Copy that, sir.”

  “Wait!” James yelled. He glared at Hallier. “Sir, please tell me what this is all about? Why are you here? What computer files are you talking about?”

  “I have neither the time nor the patience for games, Moore,” Hallier replied. “You’re in the middle of one hell of a shit storm. If I were you, I’d start cooperating right goddamn now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James yelled. “Where’s my wife? Yvonne!”

  “Separate them,” Hallier commanded. “Take the woman outside.”

  “Yes, sir,” the commando replied.

  Yvonne Moore was hysterical. She screamed as the soldier grabbed her by the arm. “God, no!”

  “Hurt her and I swear to God I’ll kill you!” Moore yelled at the commando as he watched the man escort his wife from their home.

  “You’re in no position to make threats,” Hallier said.

  “Are you kidding me?” James yelled. “You break into my home, manhandle my wife and son, and you expect me to be polite? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “Where is Project Channeler and LEEDA?” Hallier asked.

  “Project what and what?”

  “The computer files you downloaded from Dynamic Life Sciences.”

  “I didn’t download any…”

  “Dad,” Tommy interrupted.

  “Be quiet, Tommy,” his father said. “I’ll handle this.”

  “But Dad…”

  “Tommy, be quiet!”

  Hallier walked over to the teenager, stared down at the boy. “Is there something you want to tell me son?”

  Tommy dropped his head. “Yes, sir.”

  “Come on,” Hallier said. “Out with it.”

  Tommy looked down at his jeans. “Front left pocket,” he said. “They’re on a flash drive.”

  James Moore stared at his son in disbelief. “You know about this?” he said. “What the hell did you do?”

  “Nothing much. I was just messing around.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Tommy!” his father yelled. “Do you think these men are here because you were just messing around?”

  “Stand him up,” Hallier demanded. “Check his pocket.”

  The commando retrieved the flash drive, handed it to Hallier.

  “Is this the only copy?” Hal
lier asked.

  Tommy stared down at the floor. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “How old are you, son?”

  “Fifteen, sir.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “It was just for fun,” Tommy replied.

  “Playing Xbox is fun, son,” Hallier said. “You compromised the data centre of a top-secret government installation. That makes you one of three things: stupid, lucky, or goddamn brilliant. I haven’t yet decided which it is.”

  “Ask me for my opinion,” James Moore said. He yelled at his son. “Thomas Adam Moore, you will tell these men everything they need to know. Do you understand me? Everything!”

  “Yes, sir,” Tommy replied. He remembered his friend Billy’s words… ‘we’re talking lock-the-door-and-throw-away-the-key jail time, man.’ He was really scared now, on the verge of tears. Jail was for hardened criminals, not a fifteen-year-old computer hacker like himself.

  “Start talking,” Hallier said.

  Tommy explained the hack. “I created a toolset and found a backdoor into the system using a COM interface and my web browser. The toolset created batch scripts to install a persistence protocol. It was then a simple matter of connecting to Dynamic Life Sciences database, querying the system, finding the files and dumping the data from the database to a temp file which I then copied to the flash drive. I could have bought a stolen VPN certificate on the Dark Web if I wanted to, which probably would also have done the trick. Truth is, your network isn’t nearly as secure as you think it is. Actually, it sucks.”

  “How old did you say you were?” Hallier asked.

  “Fifteen, sir.”

  Hallier shook his head. “Brilliant. And stupid.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re coming with us. So are your parents. No one is getting released until I know for certain who is and isn’t involved in this.”

  “My parents had no clue about this, sir,” Tommy said urgently. “This is all on me, not on them.”

  “Son,” Hallier replied, “for the love of all that’s Holy you’d better be telling me the truth.”

  “I am, sir.”

  Hallier turned to the commando. “Take them to DARPA. I want extensive interviews conducted on the family.”