Hybrid - Forced Vengeance (11 page)

The sniper jerked back, indicating that at least one of the 9mm rounds had found its target. He disappeared from view.

“Amazing!” Erik admired his weapon for a moment then sheathed it and refocused his attention on the president’s daughter.

“Monique,” Erik knelt down beside her, “are you okay?”

The dazed teenager rolled over. Erik helped her to her feet and brushed the dirt and debris from her hair and shirt. Monique spotted the bloody wound on his arm.

“Oh my God, you’ve been shot,” she cried out.

He gestured toward the hole in the concrete foundation of the estate. “It just grazed me. The bullet is embedded in the building. See?”

* * * *

Several people, including the three security men, rushed out in response to the gunfire. Each of the three security men had a weapon drawn as they approached.

René spotted the bloodstain on the detective’s shirt. “Should we call a medic?”

“No, just a scratch,” Erik answered, pointing out the adjacent rooftop. “He was stationed on the roof over there. He’s been hit, most likely is bleeding. That would be the best place to start looking.” Erik escorted the visibly shaken Monique LaSalle back into the relative safety of the closest building on the presidential estate.

René looked at the distant building and back at Erik Knight. “You say you shot him, from this distance?”

Erik looked over his shoulder at the security specialist. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

Gestation Day 40; 1:15 p.m.

Michael Sparks sat behind his desk, studying the list of contract awards that his assistant had provided. Nancy had done her usual thorough job. He held one puzzle piece; his other research would hopefully provide the other. Pendelcorp had become a lucrative defense contractor, seeming to grow into prominence overnight under the nose of every federal regulatory agency.

He had made some phone calls to his friends at the Senate Oversight Committee; those friends would investigate the anomaly for him. He also had the link between Erik Knight, Pendelcorp and Colonel Ross. Digging into that triangle was a cakewalk compared to what he was trying to accomplish now.

Who gave the order that forced his agency to send Knight overseas on the diversion? Where had the authorization for that assignment come from? And more importantly, who was the top dog pulling the strings of both Pendelton and Colonel Ross? Neither of the men had the political clout to pull off the kind of operation occurring at Groom Lake. In his gut, he knew the president would never authorize Operation Homegrown; therefore it had to be a subversive force somewhere in the administration.

Earlier in the morning, Sparks had run several queries from his computer; he was looking for the exact source of the order that requested the involvement of the OSA and CIA. Something smelled rotten and he was determined to get to the bottom of things.

His computer chimed, alerting him that the results of his morning queries had been returned to his data terminal. He scanned the electronic files with great interest.

“Nothing, damn it.” He cycled his way through several more screens of information – with the same disappointing results. According to all of the sources he had checked, no agency in the United States government had any official knowledge of Operation Homegrown, despite the fact that the databases that he had used for this particular query had the highest security clearance and contained records of every operation dating back over thirty years. At the very least there should be some mention of a project pertaining to genetic splicing and cloning.

“This doesn’t make sense. I know the information has to be here somewhere.” He took a swig of coffee. Grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and pushed his chair away from the display monitor. He had been at it all morning and needed a diversion. A fresh cup of coffee would be just the thing.

He grabbed his suitcoat from the closet and headed out into the reception office.

“Nancy, I’m going down to the coffee shop. Can I bring you back anything?”

“That’s your fourth cup this morning. All that caffeine with your blood pressure?”

“I know, I know, but I’m so close and the coffee helps me focus. The key’s hanging out there just outside my reach. This is big, Nancy, really big. It’ll make the Watergate and Contragate seem like a bounced check in comparison. I just have to find it; it will put the whole mystery together.”

He went quiet. It was poor protocol to be discussing these things with his secretary, but Nancy did have top secret clearance and she had been working for him for over fifteen years.

“I’ll bring you back one of those gourmet latte things.” He gave her a quick wave and headed toward the elevator.

* * * *

Nancy Bertoni took this opportunity to search her boss’s office. She rushed into his suite and studied the data on his terminal then browsed through pages of notes on a yellow legal pad beside it. She shook her head in disappointment. Mr. Sparks was digging into Operation Homegrown – exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The ‘higher up’ that had instructed her to spy on her boss was correct in his assumption.

Mr. Sparks would unravel whatever was being buried and eventually bring some dark secret to light. She didn’t know what Operation Homegrown was, and didn’t care – only that she was to inform her contact if that term appeared in her boss’s notes or queries.

Top-secret files on Operation Homegrown littered his boss’s desk. Despite her better judgment she glanced through the pages. She let out a quiet gasp. They were going to harvest a woman’s baby for some awful genetic cloning experiment.

Nancy read as much as she deemed safe and committed two names to memory: Shanda Kerwin-Knight and Erik Knight.

Nancy knew that her boss had been studying Erik Knight, a Special Ops Cleaner working through the CIA. Knight was sent to search and destroy when all other methods of espionage had been exhausted. She gathered that Knight’s wife was part of some classified experiment. She closed the file and listened for any noise before returning to her own desk.

She only wanted the money to put her kids through college and possibly to add to her retirement funds. She knew that Michael would continue his work no matter what; that’s just who he was. He had the tenacity to dig and dig until he pissed off just about everybody. Perhaps she was even doing him a favor; if he could be derailed before he got much too close to whatever it was he wasn’t supposed to find, he’d be able to keep his job.

Settling at her desk, she reached for her cell-phone. She hit the speed dial and the usual voice of granite answered.

She hesitated a moment then remembering her reasons for taking on this role she went ahead. “He’s looking into Operation Homegrown. You wanted to be contacted if I discovered that,” she whispered.

The voice on the other end swore.

“What should I do?”

The voice ordered her to do nothing and say nothing more. She had completed her role. The connection was cut abruptly.

The sound of the elevator door opening startled her. Michael Sparks had returned.

Sparks placed the hot drink on her desk. “Here ya go, kiddo. One mocha latte with whipped cream.” He rebalanced his coffee and a bag of pastries then entered his office whistling.

* * * *

Sparks was enjoying a fresh glazed donut when his scramble telephone line rang. The caller ID registered the word ‘classified.’ One of his sources was reporting.

“OSA, Sparks.”

Sparks listened intently to the voice on the other end. It confirmed what he had already suspected; Pendelcorp’s acquisitions were not legitimate. Their corporate purchases had been ram-rodded through the Senate Oversight Committee with none of the defense purchases submitted for a formal hearing or vote.

This was an indication that the Oversight Committee Chairman had been bought and paid for, and Sparks assumed that a number of senators on that particular committee were in on this scheme. He’d bet it was a bi-partisan cover-up because if the cover-up regarding Pendelcorp was only occurring in one political party, there would have been no way to keep it secret.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked his source. “You have proof?”

The voice on the other end was adamant. In twenty years, this source had never been wrong.

“I knew I could count on you.” Sparks felt good but wanted the proof in his hands before the day was out. “We’ll meet in the usual place for the pickup—”

The mole interrupted him. “-This isn’t the first time we’ve done business. It will cause me to bounce a few checks but it’s well worth it.”

Sparks hung up the phone and opened his intercom.

“Nancy, I need you for a second.”

* * * *

Nancy Bertoni instantly observed the excitement in her normally calm boss.

“We got the bastards, Nancy. We got them, you and me.” He grabbed her shoulders with genuine warmth and friendship. “Those contracts, they were the key. I’ll see that you get credit for the callers too.”

“Michael, calm down. You’ll get a stroke. What are you talking about?” Nancy asked, dreading the answer.

“Pendelcorp never acquired those corporations or any of its contracts legally. There was never a vote or a roll call or even a debate. The chairman of the Oversight Committee has to be on the take, not to mention a number of committee members on both sides of the house.”

He waved his arm in triumph then sobered. “This is just the tip of the iceberg though. Somebody higher up orchestrated this and is in collusion with the good colonel. I’ll bet a year’s salary that this same higher-up official initiated the approval for Operation Homegrown. I’m hoping that the Oversight Committee Chairman will rat him out.”

Nancy scrunched her face. “Michael, these are serious charges. Can you prove any of this?”

“I’ll be getting my proof tonight,” he beamed, “from an impeccable source. I’ll personally bury that arrogant colonel and his cronies, as well as anyone else who tries to get in my way.” Sparks’ dark tone told her he meant every word.

“Just be careful; it sounds like you’re treading into very deep and dark waters – maybe too deep. You’d better check your life preserver.”

“I’ve always enjoyed swimming in deep waters.” Sparks chuckled.

“Michael,” Nancy began in her most serious tone, “I’ve found that there are usually sharks in deep, dark waters. The kind of sharks that don’t take kindly to little fish meddling in their affairs. Don’t get bitten by one of those sharks. You’re a good man, but you need to be careful.”

Sparks looked at her with confusion. “I don’t get it, Nancy. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, as her stomach fluttered. “I just think that if there is a conspiracy, and it goes as high as you’re saying it does, you need to approach this carefully. Don’t bully the wrong people. That’s all I’m saying.”

* * * *

Nancy Bertoni settled back at her desk, shaken to the core. Likely one of her boss’s many moles had finally paid off, but she was unsure just how much of the puzzle her boss had managed to unravel. She really hadn’t the first clue, save for the bits and pieces she overheard and saw on his desk. The part of her, interested in self-preservation was thankful that she didn’t know any more.

She knew that Michael Sparks had his directional signal blinking toward that wrong road and his throttle was wide open as he headed toward self-destruction. She didn’t want to see her boss get hurt or lose his career.

Nancy left the reception and went into the ladies’ room then pulled out her cell phone. She hit speed dial and put the phone to her ear.

“It’s me,” she whispered when the harsh voice answered. “He’s put some things together about Pendelcorp and the Senate Oversight Committee.”

The voice on the other end demanded more details.

“A promise first.” She wet her lips. “Promise me that you won’t end his career, that you’ll just stonewall his investigation. Michael is a good man, and I don’t want him hurt.”

The voice responded affirmatively.

“You’re sure? Just a stonewall, no firing.” At the other party’s assurance, she forged ahead, going into as much detail as she was able regarding the activities of her boss, even revealing that, at the close of the business day, he would probably be meeting his source to obtain the proof he needed to prepare his case. Knowing her boss’s favorite watering holes she figured that any meeting would occur in one of these places.

She hoped that the powers that be would simply give her boss a slap on the wrist and confiscate his proof. Michael would be furious, but he would still have a job.

She believed she was doing her boss a favor. That was confirmed by the voice. “It is in the best interest of Agent Sparks that he not dig too deeply into certain activities.”

* * * *

Michael Sparks sat at the bar waiting for his source to arrive. Finnegan’s Tavern was just the type of place for these meetings. He had the thousand-dollar payoff in an envelope tucked neatly inside his long jacket. He would insist on viewing the merchandise before laying down the cash.

Sparks felt compelled to bring this scandal to light. He was no prima donna; in the past he had done things to ‘get the job done’ that he wasn’t so proud of. He’d fallen far in his thirty-five years working for the OSA. This was an opportunity to make a fresh start. He could never wipe his slate clean with one act of consciousness, but this one was a good start.

He took another swig of his gin and tonic and glanced at the wall clock.

Peter was late. He was usually a fussbudget when it came to being on time. Washington traffic was heavy tonight, and he probably was caught up in the mess. But Finnegan’s was just outside the beltway; Peter could have walked here from his office.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled as he took a twenty from his wallet and slapped it on the bar. “Good night, Reggie,” he said to the bartender then left the bar.

He had started toward his car when he spotted Peter’s Corvette parked across the street.

“Son of a gun.” He hurried across the street. His informant was sitting behind the wheel, his stereo blaring hip-hop music.

“Hey!” Sparks tapped on the glass then he gazed into Peter’s dead eyes. “Oh, shit.” He lowered his frame to look inside the car. A splattering of blood and brain matter garnished the inside windshield.