War Hawk: A Tucker Wayne Novel (24 page)

Still, he forced that anger back down, knowing it was born partly of his PTSD. Following a battle, his paranoia always ran high. He ended up looking for enemies everywhere. Even now, a fist had formed on his knee, and he had to relax one finger at a time to get it to unclench. He knew this feeling would pass, but one bit of therapy always helped.

He reached his hand down and ran his fingers through the ruff of Kane’s fur. The shepherd sat on his haunches beside the bench, watching birds flit through the mesquite branches overhead. For Kane, the ordeal at Redstone was in the past. The dog lived in the here and now, enjoying the shade, the birds, and Tucker’s company. He always found Kane’s attitude reassuring. For his four-legged partner, what might happen tomorrow or the next day simply didn’t exist.

Tucker kept his hand on his dog’s side, absorbing that sense of peace. After another ten minutes, his breathing grew less strained, and his blood pressure lowered. Finally, Tucker stood up, ready to return to the resort where he had left Frank and Nora doing some final work on the Wasp drone.

His assignment this afternoon had been to canvass Tangent Aerospace’s headquarters. He took note of the number of guards, the security procedures at the gate, and the position of cameras. More important, he had taken a few discreet photographs of the forest of antennas on top of Tangent Tower.

Someone was certainly transmitting and receiving lots of data.

His task finished, Tucker headed away with Kane at his side and returned to his new rental, a Honda Pilot. Once back at the room, Tucker shared what he learned with Frank and Nora and showed them the photos.

“No way we’re sneaking in there,” Tucker concluded as Frank examined the pictures of Tangent’s gates.

Nora swiped back over to the picture of the nest of antennas atop the tower. “There might be another way. As far as I can tell, it looks like they’ve got almost every kind of transceiver up there, from ELF—extremely low frequency—to microwave.”

“And everything in between,” Frank added. He smiled at Nora. “Think Rex is ready for a little reconnaissance?”

Nora glanced to the reassembled Wasp drone. “Only one way to find out.”

Frank turned to Tucker. “While you were gone, we accessed and made active the electronic warfare suite buried inside Rex’s operating systems. The drone should now be able to do what it was engineered for.”

“To suck data covertly,” Tucker said.

Nora nodded. “Once in the air and within five hundred yards of the tower, Rex should be able to start a dialogue with those antennas and hack into Tangent Tower without anyone growing the wiser.”

“Still, we’ll have to tread lightly,” Frank warned. “Remember Rex is a prototype. There are sure to be bugs that haven’t been worked out yet.”

“For that matter, we should also only launch Rex at night,” Nora added. “The drone is equipped with all manner of cloaking and jamming equipment, but it could still be spotted by the naked eye.”

Tucker considered the timetable. “Then we do this tonight. We have to assume Webster and his convoy are en route with everything from Redstone, if they’re not already here. Whatever the next stage of this operation is, we need to find out
where
it’s scheduled to take place.”

Nora frowned. “I thought you believed Karl was heading over to the White Sands Missile Range?”

“I still believe that,” Tucker said. “But White Sands is spread over three thousand square miles. We need to know exactly
where
on that base Webster’s operations are located.”

Frank dropped to one knee next to the drone. “Then we’d better—”

A knock on the door made everyone freeze.

Tucker motioned the others down, then slipped out the JPX handgun holstered at his shoulder. He angled to the door, keeping out of direct line of fire if anyone should shoot through it. He moved to a neighboring window and peeked through the curtain.

A quick glance revealed a familiar slim shape of a woman, her blond hair tied back into a ponytail, her face half hidden by a sunhat.

After making sure she was alone, Tucker crossed over and opened the door.

The newcomer smiled. “Hey, handsome.”

But her eyes were on Kane as the shepherd came forward to greet her, wriggling his hind end and sweeping his tail happily. When the woman’s gaze rose and found Tucker’s face, she found a less welcoming greeting.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jane?”

18

October 22, 4:17
P
.
M
. MDT

Las Cruces, New Mexico

Tucker drew Jane inside and marched her off to the suite’s bedroom. He ignored the questioning looks from Frank and Nora. Kane pushed into the room before he could shut the door, plainly insisting on being a part of this reunion.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tucker started, feeling his face heat up. “You know that. You’re putting yourself at risk . . . not to mention us.”

“Oh calm down. Who do you think I am? I took all the necessary precautions.”

“Which included not calling me and telling me you were coming?”

“Correct. That was one of the
precautions
. If I reached out to you via my phone, we’d be compromised.”

Tucker realized she was right. The plan had always been for him to call her, not the other way around.

“Besides,” she said, “if I had called, you’d have tried to talk me out of coming. Or worse, packed up and moved.”

True
.

“What about your son?” Tucker asked, picturing Nathan’s innocent face.

“I’ve got him safely stashed away for now. Nobody’ll find him. And at this point in the game, it’s probably better that I’m not at his side.”

Even truer
.

“And to answer your question,
what the hell am I doing here
?” Jane added. “I’m joining your damn team.”

“What if it gets you killed? What about Nathan then?”

“Tuck, they won’t stop coming after me until this is over, and I’m tired of being hunted by these bastards. Remember, I was army, like you. We don’t wait for a fight to come to us, right? We take it to them.”

Tucker read Jane’s expression, one he had seen all too often in the past: her jaw set, her gaze focused, and an obstinate glint shining in those eyes.

There’s no talking her out of this
.

Tucker sighed. “Fine . . . for now.”

She shrugged. “Good enough.”

She stepped forward and wrapped Tucker in a hug, pressing her face into his chest. Without thinking, he squeezed her back. It felt good. Familiar.

After too short a time, she pulled back and stared up into his eyes. There was so much that remained unspoken between them, but neither had the words to bridge the gulf of years that separated them.

He felt a sudden urge to lean down and kiss her.

Before he could act, she shifted farther back, turning away slightly. “Maybe you’d better bring me up to speed.”

He nodded, disappointed . . . but also relieved.

“First of all, let me introduce you to Kane’s new buddy.” Tucker led her back to the other room and pointed to the drone. “Jane, meet Rex.”

He then introduced both Frank and Nora.

Nora gave her a hug. “Sandy talked a lot about you, Jane. I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.”

As the two women shared a few stories about Sandy—some of which were accompanied by tears, others with soft laughter—Frank tugged Tucker aside and lowered his voice. “Is this smart? It’s bad enough Nora is putting herself in harm’s way . . .”

Tucker recognized the worried look in the man’s eyes. Frank was likely picturing what had happened to the rest of Nora’s team. Tucker stared at the two women, connected by a ghost. The two shared a grim sisterhood. Both were the lone survivors of their respective units—Project 623 and The Odisha Group.

Tucker knew Frank’s fear.

Will we get them both killed?

Tucker finally answered Frank’s question. “It might not be smart, but it is necessary. And for now, that’ll have to do.”

His answer seemed to offer Frank little solace.

Welcome to the club
.

Jane finally waved the two men closer and nodded to Nora. “She’s the other reason I risked coming out here.”

“Why’s that?” Tucker asked.

Jane reached into the pocket of her light jacket and removed a fat thumb drive, one Tucker recognized immediately. It was the drive that Sandy’s mother had given Tucker.

“You were able to decrypt it?” Tucker asked.

“With help. But what was found on it was beyond my scope.” She turned to Nora. “Plus there’s something you should see.”

At Jane’s insistence, Frank lifted his laptop from the floor next to the drone and placed it on the room’s desk. Jane inserted the drive into the computer’s USB port. In short order, a window full of file folders opened.

The first was labeled N
ORA
.

Jane stepped back. “Nora, I think this entire drive was meant for your eyes. Sandy left this for
you
.”

Nora shifted front and center and stood there for a long breath—then reached with a trembling hand and opened the folder with her name on it. It held one item: a large video file. Nora glanced to Tucker, her eyes shining with fear.

Like her, he could guess what that file held. He shifted the desk chair behind Nora. She sank into it, took another deep breath, then opened the video.

A small window bloomed, revealing the smiling face of a ghost.

It was Sandy Conlon, seated in what appeared to be her storage locker. She looked nervous, edgy, while she double-checked that everything was recording properly.

At the sight of her, Tucker felt his own legs giving out as he struggled to reconcile this image with the decaying ruin rising from the trunk of the sunken Ford Taurus. As Sandy began to speak, memories from their past at Fort Benning flooded through him. Here again was that familiar southern drawl, the crooked smile, the nervous habit of pushing her black eyeglasses higher on the bridge of her nose.

Jane joined him, slipping an arm around his waist. “It’s okay . . .” she whispered.

It wasn’t.

As they all watched and listened, the ghost of Sandy told her story.

“Nora, if you’re seeing this, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have let you know what I was doing, but I couldn’t put you at risk . . . not you.” Sandy’s voice cracked, and emotions washed over her face: love for sure, but mostly fear and shame. She tried to soften it with a small laugh that broke Tucker’s heart. “I blame my mother. Paranoia and secrets are as much a part of the mountains where I grew up as coal fires and moonshine.”

Nora sat with her back straight and stiff. Tucker wanted to console the woman, but he sensed if he touched her she would crumble.

“Karl showed me some more of those journal pages,” Sandy continued. “More like those that I had seen back in Silver Spring. At Project 623. He even admitted they were the work of Alan Turing, just like I had thought. I even spotted a date on what appeared to be the last entry: April 24, 1940. He showed me those pages after I had made the breakthrough in developing GUT-C.”

Sandy was referring to the Grand Unifying Theory of Cryptography, the set of algorithms and code that were the core to all of Tangent’s smart drones.

Jane glanced to Tucker to see if he understood what Sandy was talking about, but he waved and mumbled, “Later.”

“As you know,” Sandy said, “there were still problems with GUT-C. Holes even I couldn’t fill. Karl hoped the new pages might help me finish the work to its completion. Which it did—but I did that coding in secret, away from Tangent’s eyes.”

She waved to encompass her storage locker. “Actually it wasn’t that hard. Alan Turing had done all the heavy lifting. He could’ve completed it himself, given enough time and resources. In the end, the key was
chaos
, just as Turing hypothesized for his mythic Oracle . . . which you’ll see in the code I wrote and left for you, Nora.”

Tucker noted the rows of other files included on the flash drive. This must be why Jane had come. It would take someone intimately involved in all of Sandy’s work to fully understand it.

Sandy continued. “Turing called his new set of algorithms ARES, likely a play off the name of the Greek god of war. But the acronym actually stands for Artificial Reasoning Engine Structure, a rudimentary blueprint for the first AI computer. I think even he knew that the creation of such an operating system could only lead to bloodshed and ruin. And now considering our work with the drones, it looks like he was proven right. I feared what horrors might be wrought if my rudimentary systems were perfected, so I completed the work in secret. I could not let Tangent get hold of it.”

“And look what it cost you,” Nora mumbled, wiping at one eye.

But Sandy wasn’t done. “While working with Turing’s algorithms, I also sought to discover
where
those pages originally came from. As long as they exist, others could do what I did.”

Sandy sighed and gave a small shake of her head. “Unfortunately I could never get to the bottom of that rabbit hole, but I did discover some things. More rumors than concrete facts, but intriguing nonetheless. Like the date of that last entry, April 24, 1940. I did some research into the history of Bletchley Park, where Turing worked during that time. According to what I learned, there was a mysterious fire two days after the last entry, which almost destroyed the place. But digging deeper, I encountered hints and speculations that it was actually sabotage . . . or maybe even a German attack on British soil. Either way, it made me wonder if the journal fell into someone else’s hands. Maybe even made it back to the U.S.”

No doubt about that now
, Tucker added silently.

“If so,
who
could possibly have it?” Sandy stressed. “I know both Project 623 and The Odisha Group were funded through government sources, but they were also privately run, suggesting one hand might be behind both operations, an unknown puppet master who is seeking to use those old journals to resurrect Turing’s project for their own personal gain. But I was never able to discover
who
that might be. It was like chasing a ghost.”