Cutting Edge

36

The house was nicely furnished, from top to bottom a cut above any place DeBolt had ever lived. There were wood floors, burnt brown and rich, and a smooth stone fireplace the color of an iron winter sky. High-end steel dominated the kitchen, marble the bathrooms. More telling was what was missing. He saw no pictures on the walls, no travel keepsakes, no letters on the kitchen counter. Altogether, a scrupulously warm place, but without the soul of a home.

The shackles came off, and DeBolt rubbed his wrists and ankles as he sat on the plush living room couch. He was unbound, but it was hardly freedom. Not when I’m surrounded by five of the world’s most thoroughly trained killers.

He’d already downloaded their names and service affiliations, but now, with Unit 9 presented in person, DeBolt could make a more palpable study. There were slight variations in height and build, but the similarities were more pronounced. The sinewy necks and athletic postures, the way they stretched to unwind coiled muscles. Their shared facial expression must have been standard issue: a stare that was in equal measure resolute and impassive. As individual soldiers they were intelligent and capable. As a unit they exuded bravado. At that moment every bit of it was directed at the lone newcomer. A pack of alpha dogs working together, deciding how to deal with an encircled quarry.

They denied his request to see Lund, but assured him she was reasonably comfortable in the basement. For the sake of the others, DeBolt repeated what he’d told Freeman. His description of META was met by a sea of blank faces, suggesting none of them knew their recent missions were derived from a deep-black DARPA project. He then performed an abbreviated version of the act he’d been using to demonstrate his abilities. Any remaining skepticism was soon crushed.

In turn, Freeman gave DeBolt a condensed briefing on his team, enough for him to understand their unit mission, along with a measured description of the orders they’d received to hunt him down. With all the facts laid bare, it was this final point, the kill order against DeBolt, that clearly perplexed everyone. The central lie was apparent, but not the reasons behind it, and confusion reigned on both sides of the room.

DeBolt was sure Freeman was holding back certain elements, gaps and details left unsaid. Possibly because they were classified, but more likely because they were incriminating. He didn’t care — he was desperate for anything to help him understand his situation. At the end, Freeman explained that Unit 9’s provisional commander, a brigadier general, had been murdered the day before in Austria. It was another unimaginable complication. And far too much of a coincidence to ignore.

Freeman cleared his team in hot to ask questions of DeBolt.

Major Piasecki was first in line. “The woman we killed at the cabin … you’re sure she was only a nurse?”

DeBolt said, “I can tell you she had medical training, and I found records of her job history. She also had personal issues, drank more than she should have. But in my personal opinion — there’s no way on God’s earth she was any kind of terrorist.”

“The place where she worked — we were ordered to take that out as well. It was supposedly a lab set up by a terrorist cell for manufacturing biological agents.”

Here DeBolt was less sure. “I don’t know anything about that. I remember being in a hospital of some kind, and that could have been the building. I did find evidence that Joan Chandler spent a lot of time there in the weeks before I ended up at her cabin. The few details I have suggest my surgery was performed there, but it’s all circumstantial — I don’t have any evidence to prove it. I also can’t tell you what else might have gone on in the place.” As they all chewed on it, DeBolt asked, “Was I supposedly part of this terrorist cell? Was that the justification for the kill order on me?”

Freeman nodded. “No questions asked. You were to be eliminated at any cost, made to disappear and all evidence destroyed. Benefield’s rationale was clear — everything had to be kept quiet. In a way it made sense. A biological attack, the components of which were already in place on home soil — the mere mention of it could instigate a nationwide panic. Apparently that was all just eyewash.”

The weight of so many new facts brought silence to the room.

Eventually DeBolt spoke, almost at a whisper. “What could I have done?”

“What do you mean?” Freeman asked.

“That night on the beach, at the cabin. I’ve run it through my mind a hundred times. I lie awake thinking about it. Was there anything I could have done to save her? Could I have … I don’t know, distracted you? Split you up and fought somehow?”

Freeman shook his head. “Look … I’ve been where you are. Don’t waste time beating yourself up. You were unarmed, outnumbered, and had no means of communication.” He looked at his team one by one. “There’s not a man in this room who could have done more than you did. You survived.”

DeBolt didn’t reply for a time. Then he nodded, and said, “Okay. So where do we go from here?”

Freeman spoke for his squad. “I’m convinced the general was bent — I only wish I’d seen it sooner. There were a lot of red flags, but I missed every one. We didn’t get enough background on you or what was happening at the clinic — not enough to justify what we did. I take the blame for that.” He looked around the room before announcing, “As far as I’m concerned, this mission is over.”

One by one, DeBolt saw the other four nod in agreement.

Piasecki said, “We’re all to blame. I wish we could take back what happened, both at the cottage and the clinic. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we couldn’t shoot straight on that beach.”

Freeman said to DeBolt, “For the sake of my team, I have to ask — are you going to pursue this? We made mistakes, bad ones, but in the strictest sense my men were only following orders. If there’s any culpability it shouldn’t go beyond me.”

DeBolt considered it, and said, “I have access to a lot of information. I can probably verify everything you’ve told me, for better or worse. If it all happened as you say, then the general who issued your orders is responsible — and it sounds like he’s already found his justice.”

“That’s something I will personally verify,” said Freeman.

“But I’m stuck with one big problem,” said DeBolt. “Aside from me, it seems that everyone associated with this META Project is dead. If that’s the case, I’ll never find out what I’ve got in my head.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Piasecki. “If everybody associated with the project is dead — then who killed General Benefield? And why?”

Everyone pondered it, and Freeman said, “He’s right. We may be missing something. Someone. And I’d say we all have a vested interest in making sure every loose end is cleared up.”

The five men looked at DeBolt, who nodded agreement. “Like I said, I could use some help. But there’s one thing I want done before we go any further.”

DeBolt explained what it was, and Freeman said, “You don’t trust us?”

“Actually, I do — about ninety-nine percent, anyway.”

The colonel grinned. “Well, that’s considerably above our approval rating for you … but okay. We’ll do it your way.”