OUTCAST Ops: The Poseidon Initiative

TWENTY-SIX

Stephen Shah did not last as long as he had in a spy career — indeed, even live as long as he did — without being able to pick himself up off the floor and give things another try. His false embassy shutdown orders had fallen flat. But as he walked onto the campus through a side entrance, he was ready to rejoin the fight. Even though his personal side-mission had not succeeded, he could still assist with the lab effort.

To this end, Shah had donned a shabby suit and carried a beat-up leather messenger bag, assuming his new identity of visiting professor from a prominent Iranian university. Before visiting the campus he had checked in with Tanner, who had filled him in on the events stateside, including the Hawaii attack. Tanner had expressed mild concern that he hadn’t been able to reach Naomi, Dante or Jasmijn, and was pleased to hear that Shah was heading over there.

As he approached the Sea Research Institute, Shah forced his mind to transition from thoughts of the overall OUTCAST mission to the kind of specialized tunnel vision he adopted when on an individual sortie. This kind of mental process had served him well over the years and he even found it sort of relaxing in a perverse kind of way. He was assuming another identity yet at the same time retaining the unusual abilities of his true self, the skills that allowed him to stay alive in the face of lurking danger presented by men and women a lot like him.

Shah smiled at a man and woman conversing softly, each holding a small stack of books, near the entrance to the research institute. They smiled at him politely and he nodded in return. He entered the building and was instantly on high alert.

He hadn’t seen any security detail yet. Wasn’t the university supposed to have beefed up its presence? He took the stairs to the second floor. As he moved down the hall at a casual pace, he saw a men’s room and went inside even though he didn’t have need of a bathroom. Decades of experience told him to check places like restrooms and supply closets whenever a situation was unfolding. He unlatched the safety catch on his holster and pushed his way into the restroom.

He took it in at a glance. Medium sized with three stalls on the left and two sinks next to those, three urinals on the right. No windows. Lights on, a couple of damp paper towels on the floor beneath an overflowing trash can. He walked to one of the sinks and turned it on, letting the water run while he backed up and bent low enough to peer beneath the stalls.

All appeared empty. He got up and turned the water off. Then he went to the door, saw the wedge used by the cleaning staff and crammed it underneath the door. He moved back to the sinks and climbed on top of the one nearest the stalls, allowing him to look down into the first one. It was unoccupied.

Like an oversized spider monkey belying its age, Shah crawled out onto the stall, hands on the front supports and legs on the side, until he could see into the second stall.

Clear.

He continued out along the middle stall in the same fashion until he could see down into the last one.

He suppressed a jolt of adrenaline at the sight of the dead body. Male, late twenties or early thirties, clad only in a pair of underwear. Quickly he dropped into the stall and felt for a pulse. None. A bullet hole on the right temple, no exit wound.

Shah rested the dead man’s head against the toilet tank and exited the stall. He went to the trash can and lifted some of the paper towels out of the way.

There.

Dark material, cloth.

He pulled a pair of pants and a shirt from the waste receptacle. No doubt this was what the Hofstad actor had been wearing before taking out the security guard in order to appropriate his uniform. He carefully searched the pockets but they came up empty.

But he had seen all he needed to. Shah pulled the wedge from the door and walked out into the hall. He had no doubt that if he was to check other nearby restrooms or perhaps supply closets or little used areas such as rooms housing electrical / HVAC infrastructure, that he would find more stripped bodies.

On high alert now, Shah focused on maintaining a normal breathing rate as he passed down the hall, which was now empty although he could hear voices from behind some of the closed doors he passed. The lab was all the way at the end and there was little he could do to conceal himself as he approached. He mentally reviewed his cover story should he be confronted by anyone while he walked up to the lab.

I am Dr. Farid Soroush, professor of Ocean Sciences at the Tehran Institute for Marine Technology. I am here by invitation to work with Dr. Jasmijn Rotmensen…

But by the time he had reached the closed lab door, no one had approached him. He glanced down at the crack beneath the door and was careful to stand far enough back from it that he would not alter its light pattern. Old habits. Keeping his feet planted far back, he bent at the waist and placed an ear near the door where it met the jamb.

Voices.

He could only catch about every third or fourth word, but it was enough to tell him that they’d been compromised. He heard Jasmijn talking, something about scuba diving, and then who he assumed to be a Hofstad terrorist, speaking in Dutch. His hand reflexively dropped to his holstered weapon but he made no real move. From the sound of it there were at least three Hofstad operatives inside, perhaps more, and they had somehow gotten the upper hand over Dante and Naomi. Shah knew that in order to do that these foes must be substantially equipped, or else have had one hell of an element of surprise. Perhaps both.

Shah turned away from the door and padded softly down the hall. He knew the lab only had one entrance in or out, other than the windows. So they would have to leave by that door at some point. Better for him to surveil that exit than to walk into a possible firestorm, potentially putting his own operatives at risk.

He walked briskly down the hall away from the lab. He saw nowhere that offered a hiding place that would also allow him to see when the lab door opened, so he decided to hide in plain sight and hope that would suffice. If the lab team was in trouble, then he was most likely their only external hope of support.

About halfway down the hallway he saw an extensive bulletin board display featuring posterboard presentations of recent lab work. He stood facing one of them, something about predictability of El Niño oscillation cycles, and pretended to be absorbed by it.

He’d been staring at the exhibit for seven minutes when he heard the lab door open at the end of the hall.

He willed himself not to turn and look down the hall, but to keep staring at the information on the wall. As the footsteps grew louder and nearer, he registered people walking toward him in his peripheral vision. A large group, not one or two. He knew he would have but one chance to look their way such that it was disguised as a casual glance. More than that would arouse suspicions on the part of the captors, if in fact the lab team had been captured.

Shah told himself he was about to find out. He forced himself to wait a few more seconds until the approaching people were so close that it would almost seem strange not to turn and look at them. When he did, he saw Dante and Naomi walking side by side, with Jasmijn in front of them. The three of them were flanked on both sides by men wearing university security guard uniforms, as well as one in front and two in back, including the man with the broken arm.

Shah smiled curtly to the group as they passed, making ever-so-brief eye contact with Naomi, who opened her lips to silently mouth the word “Hofstad,” and acted as though they had distracted him from his engrossing reading material. He turned back to the bulletin board display as they passed by him.

When they had reached the far end of the hall and he heard them open the stairwell doorway, Shah started down the hallway after them.