Dark Rising

FOURTEEN

It was late afternoon by the time the briefing and strategy session was finished, and Alex had talked through the HAWCs’ approach plan. Afterwards, back in his room, Alex put a call through to Hammerson and updated him on the new Israeli theories.

Hammerson called back fifteen minutes later: the mission profile had changed. If the energy pulse was the result of new technology, Alex was to upload or secure that technology and await further orders. Priority was now information retrieval; destruction had become the secondary option.

Hammerson said he was sending Sam an ‘exa-box’ from a local US technology outpost. Alex had heard of them: small flat boxes the size of a cigarette pack with multiple ports to enable it to be plugged into any computer. The small boxes had the ability to store one exabyte of information – that was a ‘1’ with eighteen zeros after it. Alex had been told the device could easily store all the words from every human language that had ever existed – and be slipped into your back pocket. Today, information was power, and an exa-box was the latest way to steal and transport it.

Alex lay on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. Secure the technology and get it back home… hmm. How were seven foreign agents going to secure a heavily guarded laboratory in the middle of a foreign country while he tried to back up an exabyte of data? He closed his eyes and thought through some scenarios. None looked easy or made a lot of sense, but there was one that stuck in his mind: where he and his team were unsuccessful. If their mission failed, Israel would send in a squadron of F-161 Sufa Falcons armed with laser-guided AGM-45 Shrike missiles and some big AGM-130s with thermobaric warheads for deep ground penetration. Or worse – a single mega-kiloton missile to vaporise everything for miles. The fallout would be off the radioactive spectrum. A lot was at stake here.

Alex was also worried about taking Dr Shomron along. He wasn’t concerned for the woman. If she was Mossad – either Kidon or Metsada – she could take care of herself. But the young scientist, even with the HAWCs there, would be significantly exposed. That said, Alex knew Shomron would be needed on the ground. He may be the only one who could actually identify what it was they were looking for. But does he know what he’s getting himself into?

Alex shifted on the cot, trying to get comfortable. His mind was racing and his headache had returned. Damnit, can’t babysit them all, he thought. And if the scientist volunteered, it was his own head after all. Still Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t have all the facts. Something’s missing, but what? All the puzzle pieces weren’t being laid out. Too late now, he thought, we’re committed.

He tossed and turned for another fifteen minutes, then surrendered to his body’s agitation. Gotta burn some energy, he thought as he got to his feet.

Adira found the American HAWC captain wandering along the corridor, trying various doors. At first she’d assumed he was spying, but the T-shirt and towel around his neck and the embarrassed look on his face convinced her he was genuinely looking for somewhere to exercise. She knew herself what the body was like before a mission.

She looked him up and down and grinned. ‘No gymnasium or running track, and don’t ask about a soda machine either. To use one of your own American phrases, you’re not in Kansas anymore, Captain. And don’t even consider jogging up and down the corridor or you’ll be shot.’ She laughed and let him off the hook. ‘I can offer you a coffee, and we can talk through more details of the plan. If you want, you can even do some push-ups on my floor.’

Alex laughed too and gave a slight bow of the head. ‘Lead on.’

She took him to a room more spartan than his own. She kicked a seat around for him to sit on and flicked the button on the electric kettle, which boiled furiously. ‘Instant, no sugar, no milk, and no cookies. The water also tastes like metal.’ She turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

‘Just the way I like it,’ Alex responded with mock enthusiasm.

Adira handed him the steaming metallic-smelling brew, then sipped her own in silence. She could feel the tall American looking at her, assessing her. For the first time in many years she felt awkward, self-conscious. Achhh, stop it, she thought. She knew there was something on his mind; something he wanted to ask. She waited.

Alex looked at her over his cup. ‘Ms Senesh, why do I feel you’re simply looking for a lift and some US armour plating, and once we locate the target you’ll go on a killing spree that ends up making the mission more kamikaze than Special Ops?’

If not for her training, Adira may have spluttered coffee over herself. She hadn’t expected an American to be so direct, or to try to flush away her cover so quickly. Now she wondered if she’d ever had any cover with this agent. Best to ‘play ball’, as the Americans called it.

‘Captain Hunter, my orders are to assist Dr Shomron in the detection of the facility and, if necessary, to aid you in the destruction of any threatening technology. That is all.’ She kept her gaze steady as Alex’s eyes drilled into hers.

He shook his head slowly. ‘I’m not sure you’re worth the risk, Ms Senesh. Dr Shomron will be a physical liability, but I can manage that. What I would find distracting is you making a mess while we’re trying to do our jobs.’

Adira felt a flush of anger colour her cheeks but she responded as evenly as she could. ‘Captain Hunter, Israelis have never been a liability on any mission, ever. With us you will succeed, this I promise. You should be aware that if you were unsuccessful in your assignment, then our government would mount its own mission. It would, unfortunately, be a little more heavy-handed than what you are planning. The Iranians will retaliate, of course, and also shut off their oil supply lines. And, while they’re at it, activate hundreds of terrorist sleeper cells internationally. It will get very expensive and very bloody for all of us. My orders are to assist you, and I give my word that I will follow your commands at all times.’

Adira was breathing heavily when she finished. No one had ever dared infer she was either a risk or a liability for any mission.

Alex looked into her face for several seconds; she didn’t flinch.

‘Ms Senesh,’ he said, ‘our priority is to understand what we are dealing with before there is any “destruction of threatening technology”. We don’t even know yet what it is we would be trying to destroy. This threat has come from out of nowhere, and if it’s anything like Dr Shomron has described, then frankly I would prefer to be dealing with a nuclear bomb. Destruction is the fast and easy option, and if we could go back in time and stop yet another way mankind has worked out to annihilate itself then I’d be the first to do it. But we can’t. The genie is out of its bottle – it’s already here.’ Alex put his cup down and brought his hands together in front of him. ‘You and Dr Shomron will be assisting us in intelligence gathering – we need to better understand the threat. Both our countries may have to face it again somewhere, sometime. This may be our only chance to know the devil, so to speak.’ Alex looked hard again into her eyes and opened his hands. ‘Can you do that for us, Ms Senesh?’

Adira held his gaze, trying to see if he really believed what he had just said. She knew that the only reason Israel still existed today was because it had greater firepower than its neighbours, all of whom would love to see it obliterated. She looked from his eyes to the rest of his face; she could see strength and honour in his features. A noble man, she thought, and perhaps a little naive.

Adira smiled and lifted her near empty cup in a salute. ‘Of course, Captain Hunter. If we can get close to the technology, the blueprints, or even the scientists who designed it, we can help you understand it.’

She liked the tall HAWC, but she had her orders. Leave nothing standing, and find the key to the new American weapon, Arcadian. She hoped Captain Hunter wasn’t going to be a problem.

Back out in the corridor, Alex assessed the Israeli woman again. He knew she was a professional, and didn’t doubt she could mask her emotions and hold her composure, probably even under torture. Still, he could tell she hadn’t been telling him the whole truth.

‘Metsada or Kidon?’ he asked her.

The question elicited no surprise, not even a blink. ‘Metsada: level five. And you, Captain, how long in the HAWCs? I heard about your work in the Antarctic.’

Alex smiled but didn’t reply. He should have known that the Mossad information network would be just as active in America as it was everywhere else in the world. He was relieved she was Metsada. The Kidon were assassins, just brawny torpedoes. The Metsada matched their lethality, but added in the key element that differentiated a good agent from a special agent – intelligence.

‘I need to check in with headquarters and grab your kits,’ Alex told her. ‘Bring Dr Shomron with you over to our billet – Lieutenant Reid will introduce you to the guys.’ He gave a small salute and peeled off at a branch in the corridor, then he stopped. ‘One more thing: try not to kill anyone, will you?’

It was Adira’s turn to smile.