OUTCAST Ops: The Poseidon Initiative

SIX

Tanner led Jasmijn down a flight of stairs in his house.

“I thought your garage is outside on ground level?” she said, recalling the quick tour he’d given her.

“It is. We’re meeting down here. I saved the best part of the tour for last.” He opened a heavy steel door at the bottom of the staircase and flipped on a light switch. Jasmijn stared cautiously inside.

“Your group is down here already?” Understandably, the idea that a bunch of people were hanging out downstairs that Tanner had only just told her about made her somewhat uncomfortable. Tanner gave her a good natured laugh.

“In a manner of speaking. C’mon in…” He walked into the converted basement, waving an arm for her to follow. Jasmijn entered and then stood still, taking in the space that served as Tanner’s office area and war room.

“Wow.”

While the main house had more of a rustic, almost-but-not-quite farmhouse quality to it, with a lot of natural wood and unpolished stone, this underground space was a sleek, ultramodern affair. Lots of glass, LED lighting, LCD screens and thin blue carpet. A glass, rectangular conference table occupied the center of the room on a sunken floor. Ergonomic mesh desk chairs surrounded it. Two conference phones sat at either end of the table, and there were cables and outlets built in to the table in front of each chair to plug in laptops and other devices. Ceiling mounted video cameras pointed at the table from either end. A large whiteboard and a retractable projection screen occupied one wall, while a glass etched map of the world graced another.

“This is your private office?” Jasmijn looked around, confused.

“I think of it more as a command center, but yes. Please have a seat. “Tanner wheeled a chair out for her and she sat. He walked to a networking cabinet and flipped on some rack mounted machines before turning back around to address her.

“I’d like to have a videoconference with my associates to discuss the Hofstad situation. If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to participate as a subject matter expert on STX, as well as a witness who has seen the terrorists firsthand.”

Jasmijn nodded, intrigued. “Anything I can do to help.”

Tanner pulled one of the phones to him and pressed some buttons. “I lead a group of former government agents called O.U.T.C.A.S.T. It stands for Operational Undertaking to Counteract Active Stateside Threats.”

“I’d say Hofstad qualifies as a threat to the states.” Jasmijn watched as the projection screen descended from the ceiling with a soft mechanical whir.

Tanner nodded. “That’s why I decided to consult with my team. Let’s see what we might be able to do.”

There was a series of clicks and chirps while connections were made. A male voice with a slight Persian accent came on the line. “Good morning, Tanner. Stephen here.” Tanner preferred not to divulge more of the Outcast Ops team members’ information than necessary, even to a friend like Jasmijn, so first names only were used over communications channels. He knew that the man was Stephen Shah, a former CIA agent who was fired after bringing a discrimination lawsuit against the agency. The man was an expert in middle eastern affairs with two decades of experience as a field operative. Tanner’s mind automatically placed a face of Middle-Eastern ethnicity to the voice. Despite his heritage and the fact that he spoke and wrote fluent Arabic, Tanner knew that the man was a practicing Catholic, a conundrum that illustrated the person himself rather well.

Tanner greeted him and then another voice, this one also male but younger sounding and without an accent. “Liam here. How’s it, Tanner? I guess not that good if we’re having a meeting, right?”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Liam, but you’re right. We’ve got a situation. Standby while the others sign on and authenticate.” He knew the casual sounding twenty-something was actually Liam Reilly, an ex-SEAL Team 6 special warfare operator who was dishonorably discharged from the Navy for writing a non-fiction book of his account of the raid that killed terrorist Osama bin Laden. At 6’3” with sizable chest and shoulders, Tanner had seen him train in American Kenpo and Aikido. There was no one Tanner was afraid to fight, but Liam wasn’t someone he’d ever want to go up against.

Next they heard a female voice over the line. The woman behind it introduced herself as Danielle. Tanner knew her to be Danielle Sunderland, age 37, a former National Security Agency analyst. Like all of the OUTCAST operators, she, too, had been let go from her long-time government position for reasons having nothing to do with her actual job performance. For her, the cause for her dismissal had been intensely personal. After going through a bitter divorce with her ex-husband, she woke up one morning to find her young daughter missing. After realizing she was nowhere to be found, she knew that her ex had taken the child. In order to locate her, she tapped the powerful database systems she had access to at the NSA. The information she gleaned did aid in the search for her daughter, but it came at a price. She was fired from the NSA for using agency resources to support a personal matter. After fourteen years of service as a computational forensics expert, Danielle Sunderland was cast aside for doing what any parent would. Tanner could picture her frumpy, nerd-girl looks, replete with Lennon-style glasses that seemed to focus the fierce intelligence that issued from the eyes behind them.

A second female voice chimed in on the line, this one slightly huskier. “Hello, Naomi,” Tanner greeted her. She was Naomi “Nay” Washington, ex- Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms after thirteen years of experience investigating arson and explosives. Like her OUTCAST peers, she loved her country deeply and wanted to help it during its times of great need, but officially no longer had that opportunity. Yet unofficially, as a member of Tanner’s organization, she had been given a second chance to do just that. Tanner mentally pictured her long legs, slim waist and vaguely exotic looks.

“Waiting on one more.” Tanner eyed the speakerphone incessantly.

There was no small talk on the line while they waited. The team was far too disciplined to generate unnecessary signal traffic. There were those in powerful places — both abroad and here at home-who would love nothing better than to expose their identities, perhaps even take whatever actions might be necessary to put a stop to what some saw as a “ruthless rogue outfit.”

Soon a new voice issued from the speaker. “Dante.”

Dante Alvarez, thirty-two years of age. Ex-Secret Service agent. Eleven years Presidential Guard detail and international fraud investigation experience, all flushed down the drain when he was summarily dismissed without benefits for his alleged role in a prostitution scandal while in South America during the President’s visit. He had kept the Chief Executive safe even though it had ended up costing his job. Tanner had been surprised when he first met him how competent of a fighter he was with his very tall but lean, wiry physique. But his ropy muscles had translated to jujitsu skills that were superior to Tanner’s own.

“I’ll get right to the point.” Tanner looked over at Jasmijn to gauge her reaction so far. She was watching him closely, alert, engaged. He went on. “If any of you are not aware of the news reports on last night’s football halftime show, speak up.” He paused for three seconds during which there was only silence.

“Let me inform you that I have a guest here with me at headquarters. Her name is Dr. Jasmijn Rotmensen, and she is the scientist who developed the aerosolized neurotoxin known as STX used in last night’s attack. That toxin was stolen from her lab at gunpoint by members of Hofstad only one day before the strike. She was in close proximity with the terrorists during her ordeal. She is here to provide us with information so as to assess if we may be able to neutralize the threat before more innocent lives are taken, in…” He glanced at his watch. “Thirty-four hours.”

He turned to Jasmijn and asked her to recap her work with STX as well as the lab break-in. She did so in meticulous, thorough detail, pausing at one point to hold back tears as she described Nicolaas’ excruciating death from the STX sprayed in his face. She also added what she had told Tanner earlier about how the quantity of STX used during the game likely represented a very small percentage of what was taken. When she was done, Tanner asked the group if they had any questions.

Danielle’s voice came through the speaker. “Dr. Rotmensen, have you informed authorities that the deadly agent used in the attack was the STX from your lab?”

“No, I haven’t done that yet. I will do that immediately following this call. A formal police investigation has been launched in my country based on my lab incident, but they may not have made the connection to the football stadium attack. However, although I can at least inform authorities as to what killed those people, there will still be nothing they can do about it. There is no known antidote for paralytic shellfish poisoning, nor for my particular saxitoxin derivative.”

“You said Hofstad threatened you if you didn’t provide them with the antidote,” Danielle pressed. Tanner saw Jasmijn flinch at the word ‘said’—at the implication that what she claimed had transpired in her lab may possibly be different from the truth. But he knew that an operative was trained to think that way. Trust nothing or no one. Only believe what you observe yourself. Tanner nodded at Jasmijn to respond.

“They gave me seven days and said they could pay me a visit anywhere. Rather than stick around after what they did to my lab assistant to see if I might fare any better, I decided to flee.” Into Tanner’s arms, was the unspoken rest of the sentence that she was sure Danielle was thinking.

“Is there any way you can work on the antidote in Maryland? What equipment and supplies do you need?” Danielle asked. Tanner looked at Jasmijn, awaiting her response. When she hesitated, Danielle pressed on.

“Because if we had an antidote, and could mass produce and distribute it, Hofstad’s threats become impotent.”

Stephen Shah’s accented voice came over the line. “We know from what they told Jasmijn in her lab that the terrorists want an antidote for the STX. We have to assume this is to exert further control over the situation. They would then be able to essentially sell the antidote to their own victims. To me this is even more reason to come up with an antidote before they do.”

Jasmijn nodded. “It just occurred to me that they might even have other people working on an STX antidote. I’m not the only scientist in the world, or even in Europe, capable of doing it.”

Tanner looked across the table. “Jasmijn, make sure you call the CDC as soon as this call ends to let them know definitively that STX is the bio-agent used in last night’s attack. That way they might be able to get other scientists working on the antidote. You have a big head start, but with the CDC’s resources, they might be able to crowdsource a solution faster than what you could do independently.”

“Agreed.” Jasmijn said.

Tanner went on. “But we can’t sit around waiting for some government agency to fix things. Our collective decades of government service have taught us that, if nothing else.” Hearty guffaws from the team broke out over the line before Tanner got back to business.

“What do you think, Jasmijn? If I could set you up in a discreet, secure lab around here, could you continue working on that antidote?”

“Unfortunately, it’s not simply a matter of equipment and a space to work. The samples I have already developed that I believe are the key to creating an antidote are in my Netherlands lab. I suppose I could request they be air-freighted to me here under special refrigerated conditions, but —”

Dante Alvarez broke in for the first time. “Why don’t we just provide you a security detail at your Netherlands lab and you can do the work there under escort and 24/7 guard detail?” As ex-Secret Service, he was an expert at providing guard detail and so naturally would prefer that solution.

Tanner looked impressed. Jasmijn appeared doubtful. He addressed her concern.

“You’d be safe. Trust me. If Hofstad does return to your lab, we might be able to end this that way, too, because we’ll be waiting for them.”

“So we all fly to my lab?”

“Half of us. Dante, Stephen and Nay: you three will escort Jasmijn to her lab and guard her while she develops the antidote. Danielle, Liam and myself will remain in country to track Hofstad from here and respond to any related domestic threats that may arise. “

The three of them indicated their assent.

“So I came all this way only to turn around and go back home.”

“To go back home safely,” Tanner corrected.