Street Game

CHAPTER 12

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Javier whispered.

Mack froze at the bottom of the stairs. They needed to know what Paul was hiding from them. If Javier and Jaimie couldn’t figure out how to open the laptop and hopefully clear Paul’s name-well, he couldn’t have a spy on their team risking the others.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Javier admitted.

“Fortunately for us, I have,” Jaimie said.

Mack stood for several minutes drinking in the sight of Jaimie absorbed in her work. This was one of those times he loved the most. The complete concentration and focus, the absolute joy of discovery when she found what she was looking for. She made love to him like that. Wholly focused on him. Every magnificent brain cell, every nerve ending, every particle of her being, was given to him. All of her. Body, mind, soul, and heart. He could see that in her work. Jaimie was an all-or-nothing person. And her work, like her love, was her all.

She enjoyed the journey. The harder the challenge, the more she enjoyed the fight along the way. That, she said, was as good or better than the actual discovery. Unfortunately, she didn’t always care about how long it took to get her information. And he needed it immediately.

He came up behind her silently, very aware of her head so close to Javier’s. She had great affection for Javier, and he shared her love of computers and code. The two of them could spend days or weeks talking a language that gave Mack a headache, but he didn’t care, he loved to see her excited and happy.

“Here you go, honey. One iced coffee with whipped cream.” He put it on the desk a distance from where she was working but within reach. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I hope you have good news for me. And here’s your hot coffee, Javier. Plenty of sugar. Kane said to tell you real men don’t use sugar in their coffee.”

Javier snorted. “He doesn’t know how to stay up all night.”

“Are you getting anywhere? Paul seems to think you’ll have a bit of a problem. I told him he was crazy and you’d have this thing spilling secrets to you.” He gave her a hopeful smile. “I was telling the truth, wasn’t I?”

“We blew past the operating system password,” Javier said. “It wasn’t that hard. Virtually all laptops made in the last few years contain Firewire ports.”

Mack scowled at him. “I’ll take back the coffee if you don’t speak English.”

Javier shrugged and grinned. “One of those ‘holes’ you can plug cables into along one of the sides of the laptop. If the Firewire port is enabled, and the laptop is using the Windows operating system, you can break into the laptop via the Firewire port.”

“So we just needed to connect another computer-running a Linux operating system instead of Windows-to the enabled Firewire port on the laptop,” Jaimie explained. “The machine is then tricked into allowing the connected computer to have read and write access to its memory. We then ran a special program on our computer that found the log-in password in the laptop’s memory. Then we logged in using that password.”

“And we thoroughly vetted all the programs. He’s got quite a few he modified, and he’s good. But then we found this.” Javier indicated the screen. “He’s got himself what has to be a classified program. We normally wouldn’t have a problem breaking into it, but we were expecting a normal-length password, not this.”

“I don’t understand.” He hated those three words. And he often had to use them around Jaimie and her precious computers.

Jaimie flashed her world-class smile. “Well, Mack, here’s the thing. Encryption techniques are now so powerful that it’s virtually impossible to intercept encrypted files or e-mail messages in transit and decode them. The weak point in security systems is always at the place where someone accesses an encrypted file or e-mail message. Usually this is a matter of entering a password chosen by the person. And because people aren’t very good at choosing secure passwords, it’s not too hard to break into their files. It’s not so much that they base their passwords on things other people might guess. It’s more that their passwords are too short. In fact, if their password is made of letters and numbers and is less than twenty-three characters long, I can run a special program off a supercomputer that will test every possible combination, and be able to find their password within a few hours.”

Javier nodded. “And-even though all the security specialists recommend it-we’ll never be able to convince most people to choose random passwords with more than twenty-three characters.” He winked at Mack. “Bet your password isn’t more than twenty-three characters.”

“I lived with Jaimie for a year. Believe me, I can barely remember the damned thing it has so many letters and numbers.”

Jaimie smirked at him. “You can always ask me if you ever forget it.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “I told you it was useless. She can get into my computer.”

Javier grinned at him. “I don’t think you’re ever going to get away with sending hot e-mails to Internet babes.”

“Another approach people have tried is biometrics: using the unique characteristics of a person’s biology to allow only that person, or a group of people, to have access to something,” Jaimie continued, giving Javier a warning kick beneath the desk. “The most familiar use of biometrics is retinal scanning: You place your eyeball in front of a retinal scanner, it measures various features of a person’s retina against a database that stores the retinal info for legitimate people.”

Javier put down his coffee. “We’re all familiar with retinal scanners as a way of limiting access to sections of buildings. But you can add retinal scanning to a computer as well, as a way of making sure that only you are allowed access to your computer or to certain files. A major drawback is that you have to add this ‘retinal scanning’ hardware-a special device you press your eyeball up against. You can’t just run a program on your computer. In addition, there are horror stories that go along with this technology, like security break-ins being accomplished by cutting out a person’s eyeball and holding it up to a retinal scanner…” Javier wiggled his eyebrows to look evil.

“Unfortunately”-Jaimie gave a little shudder-“that really does work.”

“Can I just bring the kid down here and shove his eye at the computer, or do you need me to really cut it out?” Mack asked, straight-faced.

Jaimie made a face at him. “I don’t think we need to do anything quite so drastic. My PhD dissertation introduced a new approach that combines the idea of generating more secure passwords with the idea behind biometrics: coming up with a unique identifier for each person. Here’s the idea. Just like a person’s retina or fingerprint, everyone’s brain is unique. In particular, everyone has memories that no one else has. If we could identify a unique memory for a person, and find a way to express it in the form of a sequence of words-enough words to be secure of-we’d have a password no one could ever break. The program would be a terrific new tool for security without requiring the extra hardware that biometric approaches like retinal scanning does, and without having to remember an impossibly long sequence of random letters and numbers. I call it ‘mememetrics’-because, in contrast with biometrics, it’s based on unique memories rather than unique biological characteristics.”

“How does it work?” Javier asked.

“Here’s how it’s done. My AI program conducts an interview with a person aimed at ferreting out a memory unique to that person, and expressing it in six words: the password. A password made of six unguessable words is just as secure as a password made of twenty-three random letters and numbers.”

“Because there are about 170,000 words in the dictionary,” Javier said, grinning with excitement. “Brilliant, Jaimie. I knew there was a reason I fell madly in love with you.”

Mack smacked him on the back of the head. “She’s in love with me. Keep talking, Jaimie.”

Javier ignored him. “If you choose six words at random from the dictionary for a password, a program trying to crack the password would have to search through an impossibly large number of combinations.”

Jaimie nodded. “Multiply 170,000 by 170,000 by 170,000 by… you get the idea: six 170,000s multiplied together. Our fastest supercomputers would take over three hundred years to search through all the possibilities. So this kind of password is pretty secure.”

“You never told me about this, Jaimie,” Javier said. “How does the program work?”

“It has about a thousand different ‘schemas’ representing different kinds of remembered personal experiences: from happy childhood memories, to low-grade traumatic experiences, to fantasies, to love or sexual memories, to memories of accomplishments, on and on.”

Mack frowned at her. “I don’t want to know the kid’s sexual fantasies, Jaimie, just his password. I need a look into that computer.”

“You have no patience,” Jaimie reprimanded. “The program is looking to find an uncommon memory or fact. So, exactly not the kind of thing you often are asked for in security questions like, ‘your mother’s maiden name,’ ‘your favorite pet’s name’-that sort of thing. And not your sexual preference, you perverts. A lot of people besides yourself could acquire those pieces of information. So the program steers away from those sorts of things. Instead, it looks for facts or memories that are unique to you, and that you have never shared with anyone else.”

Javier shook his head, his mouth open, his eyes lit with respect. Mack’s chest expanded. He loved how intelligent Jaimie was, that she could do things few others could do and he had no understanding of. But he loved to listen. Sometimes, when she talked, he felt like her accomplishments were the best in the world. He was more proud of her than of anything he’d ever done. He wanted to show her off to the world-and he wanted to keep her strictly for himself.

“The program uses a natural language interface and a unique AI learning algorithm that almost always allows it to converge on a unique memory for a person within five attempts. So it might start off looking for a low-grade traumatic experience from childhood-something you remember but never told anyone else about-but then it discovers that you are someone who basically doesn’t recall any unhappy childhood memories. So upon learning that, the program might shift over to looking for mildly happy childhood memories.”

“I see you’re focusing on ‘low-grade’ traumatic experiences or ‘mildly’ happy childhood memories,” Javier said, speculation in his voice.

Mack wished he could keep up; this was obviously exciting stuff. Jaimie nodded. “Because horribly traumatic experiences or the fantastically happy childhood memories are the kinds you might very well have told others about. We’re looking for a memory that doesn’t stand out that much, but is still unique, but is something the person can remember as their password, because after all, it’s created from one of their own memories.”

Mack made a face at her. “I hate to tell you this, honey, because I hate it when you have something to lord over me, but I have no idea how that applies here.”

“Well, while Javier doesn’t recognize this program, I do. This was my approach I came up with for my PhD dissertation, but then I went on to create a working program. It was classified. I don’t know how Paul managed to get hold of a top security program, but he’s using it to protect his e-mail messages. Unfortunately for him, I recognize this. It’s definitely my program.”

“Are you certain?” Mack asked. “How can you tell?”

“Look at the screen.” Jaimie pointed it out. “Look what it reads.”

Mack stepped close and peered at the laptop.

ENTER YOUR MEMEMETRIC PASSWORD

[] [] [] [] [] []

“This is my program. There’s no doubt. No other program has an access screen like that or refers to ‘mememet ric’ passwords for memory instead of biometric.”

“Tell me you left a backdoor,” Javier said.

“Of course. Doesn’t every programmer? I should be able to go into any computer using my program and get their six-word password. I just have to load this little tool program of mine.”

“I’m so in love with you, Jaimie,” Javier said. “Sorry, boss, I can’t help it, she’s a mega badass.”

Mack shrugged. “As long as you know you’re risking getting yourself shot. Then I’m okay with it.”

“Uh-oh.” Jaimie took a drink of her coffee, frowning at the laptop. “Very clever, my boy. You found the backdoor and closed it, didn’t you, smart one? But you’re not dealing with just anyone here. I wrote this mother. It’s my brain-child, honey. You’re not defeating me. Good try, but I never leave anything to chance. Let’s just see how clever you really are.” She set her iced coffee down a good distance away and began typing on the keyboard again.

“Talk to me, honey,” Mack said. “Not to the machine.”

“He found my main backdoor and shut it down, but I’ve got another, much more subtle. And he didn’t find it. No one would unless they knew exactly where to look and what to look for. The first one would have given me his six-word password straight away. Much easier.” She hunched closer, her eyes glued to the screen. “But this isn’t impossible. What the second backdoor enables me to know is which ‘experience schema’ the password is based on-and that should narrow down the possibilities.”

Mack groaned. “Narrowing things down sounds like it will take some time.”

“Of course it will. The kid’s good. He managed to get his hands on top-notch protection. It’s his bad luck that it’s my program.”

Javier burst out laughing. “Everyone calls him ‘the kid.’ He’s older than you are, Jaimie.”

“Everyone’s older than she is,” Mack pointed out.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Jaimie said, without looking away from the screen. “There you go, boys. ‘Low-grade traumatic childhood experience.’ I’ve got him now.”

Javier lifted an eyebrow. “How is knowing that going to help us figure out his sixword password, Yoda?”

“Because, little grasshopper, as creator of the program, I know how the program goes from the schema to the six-word password.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Mack said.

“See the six pairs of brackets where you’re supposed to type in your six-word password?” Jaimie pointed to the screen. “Here, let me show you.” She dragged a notebook across the desk and hastily sketched a picture for them.

LOCATION WHAT HAPPENED WHY TRAUMATIC [WORD1] [WORD2]

[WORD3] [WORD4] [WORD5] [WORD6]

“My backdoor showed us that his six words describe a ‘low-grade traumatic childhood experience’ that he had. As the designer of the program, I happen to know that, together, word one and word two describe the location where that experience occurred, such as ‘cellar stairs’ or ‘front yard.’ Word three and word four describe what happened-something like ‘pit bull growling’ or ‘gun fired.’ And the final two words are used to describe why it was traumatic, like ‘terrified me,’ that sort of thing.”

“Jaimie,” Mack said in his best you’re-driving-me-crazy-get-on-with-it voice.

“Okay. Sheesh, Mack, things take time. I’m running a special purpose, ‘brute force’ program. The two words for the ‘location’ are drawn from a database of about a million words. The two words for ‘what happened’ are drawn from another database of about a million words. And the two words for ‘why the experience was traumatic’ are drawn from a database of about 100,000 words.”

“That sounds like it’s going to take more time than I think we have.”

“Mack, come on,” Javier said. “This is a miracle. If Jaimie hadn’t written the program in the first place, it would be virtually impossible to even get close. We’d have to try all combinations of six words and that would take centuries.”

“Exactly. It may sound like a lot of combinations, babe,” Jaimie assured, “but it’s small enough that we can ‘brute force search’ our way through all the possibilities in under two hours. Can you give us two hours?”

She’d called him “babe.” She hadn’t done that in two years. It had come out easy and natural, with that little intonation of affection she could never quite mask. It had always annoyed him before because she’d begun doing it in retaliation when she objected to his calling her “baby.” He liked calling her “baby,” not because he thought of her as a baby but because it was a term of endearment his father had used with his mother. It was one of the few memories he had of his father. He supposed it was silly on his part, and he should have stopped when she’d objected, but he’d continued. She’d retaliated and then gone on from there. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that small exchange between them.

“I can wait a couple of hours. That kid is quite the puzzle,” he added, toeing a chair around and straddling it.

“Actually, boss, everyone likes him. He’s secretive, really keeps to himself, but he pulls his weight and never once has objected to the ribbing we give him. He sometimes even gives back as good as he gets,” Javier said.

“Who, of the men, is Paul closest with?” Mack asked.

“Gideon, but Gideon gets along with everyone,” Javier said immediately.

“Probably Lucas and Ethan.”

“Turns out our Paul is a very valuable commodity,” Mack said. He lowered his voice from habit. “We think he’s a psychic surgeon.”

Javier turned in his seat so fast he nearly fell. “I thought that was a myth.”

Jaimie frowned. “How come you didn’t know, Mack? That’s big. Huge. No one really believes such a thing exists. I can hardly believe someone has that kind of talent. If he does, no one else must know about it or he wouldn’t be in your unit.”

Mack frowned. “Every unit should have a psychic surgeon going into combat with them. Think of the lives you could save. If you could take the violence, even you, Jaimie, would have an easier time of it if we had a skilled surgeon. Hell, we talked about this for months when we were in the hospital undergoing the psychic evaluation and enhancement. Psychic surgery was the one talent they screened for aggressively.”

“There are a few healers, but not an actual surgeon,” Jaimie pointed out. “Do you really think they’d put the only one they had in the field, Mack? They’d want to study him and figure out how his talent works, to maybe try to reproduce it.”

Mack closed his mouth, teeth snapping together. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Like Gideon and Joe, Mack,” Jaimie said. “I don’t think anyone knows about their differences, not even them.”

“Or you,” Mack said. “We know Whitney wants to know how your talent works.”

Javier flashed a grin at Mack. “Makes you think we’re just run of the mill, boss.”

“Be grateful, Javier.”

“What’s with Gideon lately? I’m a little worried about him,” Javier said, the smile fading from his face.

“I don’t know. I think everyone’s talent has been growing. Have you noticed your psychic skills getting sharper? Expanding?”

Javier shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention. I just do my thing. I’ve always been accurate. I have good hand-eye coordination and fast reflexes. I attribute everything to that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and gave a small sigh. “I don’t want to think about it, Mack. We went into this together. I’m in my element.” He flashed Jaimie a wan smile. “Sorry, hon, but I am. Mack is. All of us.”

“I know. I’m just wired differently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Javier said. “We like the way you’re wired.”

The computer made a rude noise and Jaimie lost all interest in the conversation, turning back abruptly to the laptop and hitting a few keys. She broke out in a satisfied smile.

“Here we go, Mack. We’re in. His passwords are on the screen.” She turned the laptop to face him so he could read easily. “We got it in just over an hour.”

LOCATION WHAT HAPPENED WHY TRAUMATIC

[red] [barn] [bee] [stings] [nearly] [died]

“Poor Paul ran into some very unfriendly bees in a red barn when he was a kid,” she explained. “He was probably allergic and most likely went to a hospital. Definitely a nasty experience for him, and one he’d remember, but one you’d never find on his resume. Nothing he would have told anyone. And not something you could grill his parents about and extract from them.”

“Can you get into whatever he’s hiding?”

Javier scanned the documents. “Letters. To Sergeant Major.”

Mack swore under his breath. Deep, in the pit of his stomach, where no one could see, he felt sick. Bile rose. He knew what he would have to do. “I knew the kid was spying. What’s Sergeant Major into? Why in the hell is he selling us down the river? Go through them carefully, Javier. You too, Jaimie. I don’t want you to miss anything. Did Griffen think I wouldn’t catch the kid? And he had to know what I’d do if I caught him. Damn him for this.”

Jaimie spun around in her chair. “First of all, you wouldn’t have caught him if we hadn’t been experimenting. And secondly, what do you mean by what you would do if you caught him?”

Mack shook his head, his gaze meeting Javier’s.

“No! I mean it, Mack. I helped you get into his laptop. You never would have if it wasn’t for me. Don’t you dare hurt him.”

“He’s selling us down the river.” She could make him feel like a fucking monster with her quick condemnations. He’d forgotten that. Forgotten how low he felt, how torn by some of the decisions he knew were right to protect his team. “What do you think I should do with him? Turn him over to the sergeant major? Just find me something to vindicate him.”

“This is why we can’t be together, Mack. You’re not God. You can’t make decisions like that. No one can.”

“I do whatever it takes to protect my team. And you aren’t going to use this as some way to get out of our relationship, Jaimie. I’m sorry you don’t like reality, but you’re the one who pointed out Griffen sent Brian and Kane on more than one suicide mission. Did you think I wouldn’t take you seriously and do something about it? He’s not going to get away with it. And anyone working for him is working against us.”

“Is he just going to disappear? Is that what will happen?”

“Jaimie, damn it, what do you want me to do? Find something that tells me he wasn’t sent to spy. For all you know he could be a trained assassin.”

“He’s too young. He looks like a kid.”

Mack spun her chair around so she was staring at Javier. “Take a good look, Jaimie. What the hell does Javier look like to you?”

“It’s not the same. Javier isn’t an assassin…”

“It’s exactly the same. He looks like a kid and yes, he was trained exactly as an assassin. So was I. All of us were. Isn’t that what you hate most about me?”

She paused, her gaze sliding over him, sadness in its depths. “I don’t hate you, Mack. I could never hate you. I just don’t understand you.” She pushed her hand through her hair and turned away from him, but not before he caught the sheen of tears. “Let me just read the documents, Mack. There’s no point in speculating.”

Javier sent him a frown and turned his back on him to help Jaimie. Mack paced away from the two of them, his hands balled into tight fists. What the hell was he supposed to do-lie to her? Hell, he liked the kid, but he wouldn’t like him so much if Kane was found with his throat cut or Brian “accidentally” slipped in the shower. His job was to protect his men. That meant making hard decisions no one else wanted to make.

Silence fell in the room while the two began tracing through Paul’s private mail.

Mack stayed way back, in the shadows, a good distance from the light spilling around the banks of computers. Trying to steel himself for the worst possible news wasn’t easy. Paul’s looks might be similar to Javier’s, but his personality wasn’t. Javier was edgy, dangerous, a man who took the slightest threat seriously. Paul appeared to be a boy looking for a place to settle. He seemed more like Jaimie, soft inside, wanting a home and family, not geared for combat.

The boy had joined them weeks ago and every member of his team subconsciously watched over the kid. They didn’t want him because he appeared to be a weak link and weak links got one killed. Mack frowned thinking about Paul. It wasn’t that he panicked. He had the nerves for combat. He was quiet and steady. He just seemed-young. Yet he was older than Jaimie. Was he undercover and very, very good at it? His stomach knotted. At this rate he was going to have one hell of an ulcer.

“Just out of curiosity, Jaimie,” Javier said, his voice low and casual, “if we’re going to make it an intellectual discussion. If the kid is really an assassin sent to spy and/or kill certain members of our team, what’s the best way to handle that situation?”

Jaimie glanced at him. Javier didn’t offer opinions on much very often. If he did, the others listened because he was making a worthwhile point. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t being casual.

“Turn him over to the authorities.”

“Which authorities would that be, Jaimie? Sergeant Major, who both you and Mack obviously suspect is up to no good? Which, by the way, I suspected on the last mission when Kane and Brian ran into a firestorm. Someone set them up. If Mack hadn’t suspected something was wrong, both would be dead.”

She bit her lip. “Not Sergeant Major.”

“Above him? Go up the chain of command? Colonel Wilford? Wasn’t he the one Sergeant Major gave the evidence to?” Javier prompted.

“I don’t know. Someone.”

“That’s the problem, now, isn’t it, Jaimie? It’s Mack’s responsibility and there’s no one he can trust if he can’t trust Sergeant Major or Colonel Wilford. So tell me what to do here. You’re the one with the brains.”

“Javier,” Mack said quietly. “Leave her alone.”

“We’re just having an intellectual conversation here, boss,” Javier said. “She’s smart. Maybe she has ideas we can use when this kind of thing crops up and someone is holding a knife to our throats. What do you think, Jaimie?”

“I said back off,” Mack said. “I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

Jaimie felt a shiver go down her spine. Mack was protecting her again. He’d been protecting her for as long as she could remember, a young child facing school with far older, bullying children. Who knew why he’d made her his project, a little girl with eyes that took up half her face and a mop of unruly curls, but he had. He’d always been there, watching over her, insisting others treat her with respect and stopping anyone from making her feel uncomfortable.

What would she do if someone she knew, such as Sergeant Major, was sending her beloved family members on suicide missions? She was looking for evidence to expose him, but what if he had a plant in place ready to kill them and they had no evidence? Everything in her stilled. Her stomach did a curious flip. She condemned Mack for his very strength-the strength she leaned on.

Mack had to make the hard decisions to keep the rest of them safe and from having to do it. He was the cleanup man and the leader. Every mistake was his. He took the burden on his shoulders and accepted that weight. All the time she’d been thinking he didn’t accept her as she was, but in truth, he shielded her from the more difficult aspects of life. She was the one who didn’t accept him. She accepted his protection and strength and yet condemned him for it. That was what Javier was trying to tell her.

Mack had to know what Javier was doing, yet he still was willing to stop Javier to keep her from being upset. Was she such a child that she couldn’t accept real life? The good with the bad? Reality? Her hands shook as they flew over the keys, her mind searching for answers. What would she have Mack do? She hadn’t been able to pull the trigger and she blamed him for putting her in that position, but in reality, she’d chosen to be there. She was angry and ashamed that she hadn’t been able to do it. That she wasn’t as strong as he was. Mack knew that about her and he didn’t care. He accepted that she couldn’t be around violence or commit it herself. Was she punishing him for being stronger than her? She just didn’t know anymore, but she was beginning to have doubts about her reasoning.

“You know, boss, so far, he hasn’t reported anything at all about any of us or what we’ve done. He’s actually painting a rosier picture than he’s had it with us. These letters are short and more reassuring, like a kid writing home rather than reporting. Unless he has a code I can’t see.”

Jaimie shook her head. “I don’t see any pattern. I think they’re just letters.”

“Why would he hide them behind an elaborate security system?” Mack asked, coming up behind Jaimie and dropping his hands on her shoulders. His fingers dug into her sore muscles, massaging the tension from her. His touch was firm, but very gentle, as always. For all his enormous strength, Mack was always gentle. “Why would he be writing Sergeant Major?” Mack asked. “Come on, Jaimie, you’re smart. You’ve read a few. Who is he? What’s he saying? Why the sergeant major? You’re an analyst. Analyze.”

“Well, the tone of the letters is very careful. He’s watching what he’s saying, not wanting to reveal too much. Is he happy? Sad? Upset that he’s where he is? Or upset that he’s having to make reports? Some of it is very genuine. He mentions a couple of funny things with Gideon and Ethan, and there’s a trace of affection in the way he words it, as if both men mean something to him. I think he’s trying to portray that he fits in, that he’s comfortable where he is. Like letters a kid might write home from a summer camp to a parent.”

Silence descended as all three let that sink in. The clock ticked out a rhythm. A heartbeat. Mack closed his eyes briefly. “Jaimie. Talk to me, honey.”

She moistened her lips, glanced at Javier, and then turned. “I think he’s Sergeant Major’s son. He never addresses him as anything but ‘sir,’ but based on these short letters back and forth between them, I’d have to say, the contents, coupled with the fact that he kept them protected rather than deleting them, say they’re related, most likely father and son.”

Mack slammed both palms flat on the desk, swearing between his teeth. “What the hell is going on here, Jaimie?” She’d always been his sounding board for as long as he could remember, with her quick brain and sharp intelligence. She could see patterns faster than anyone he knew. She could put together puzzles so quickly computers could barely keep up.

Jaimie bit down on her lip. Mack never hesitated asking her opinion. Never. Even if he knew he wouldn’t like her answer. He listened to her, respected her. She knew he did. One time he hadn’t listened, and she’d left-walked out on him. He’d been upset. His men had been wounded. He’d nearly been killed. They’d walked into a trap. She’d blamed him for leading them there, and yet, she was just as much to blame. They all were. But in the end, they’d let Mack shoulder the responsibility for it, just as they always did. The others let it go, but she hadn’t. She’d accused him, and then she’d walked out when he didn’t respond.

She dropped her head in her hands, rubbing at her pounding temples. Instantly Mack’s fingers were on her scalp, massaging her head, in an effort to ease the ache.

“Are you tired, honey? Maybe we should lay this down for a while. You could sleep a few hours and look it over with fresh eyes.”

“I’m okay. Let me go through all of these. I’m reading through Sergeant Major’s replies as well. I might find something else.”

“I have to agree with Jaimie here,” Javier said. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but either he has the best code in the world, or he’s simply writing Griffen a few lines a day, in a way that would tell the sergeant major that he was okay. Everyday stuff.”

“What about the times Kane and Brian were sent out and I ordered you and Ethan and Gideon to go as backup? He wanted to go the last time.”

“I checked for letters during those dates,” Javier said, “and nothing changed. He never once mentioned the mission or any of the men. He didn’t say he was disappointed for not going. He skipped a day, but that wasn’t unusual.”

“His skipped days don’t necessarily correspond with your missions,” Jaimie said.

“I thought of that and checked.”

“Could something be buried in the letters we’re not seeing?” Mack asked. Javier snorted and Jaimie gave him a quick, flashing smile. Mack threw his hands into the air. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up. It’s just that…”

Hell. He liked the kid. He thought of Sergeant Major not only as a good friend, but perhaps a favorite uncle. Contemplating killing both men was not pleasant. And if they were father and son-and the kid was innocent-how was he going to kill Sergeant Major and live with the son? Either way, Griffen had to answer for the suicide missions.

“Damn it, Jaimie.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Mack.” Her voice was soothing. “I know this is upsetting, but don’t think about it until the facts are in.”

He knew his mouth gaped open. It was the last thing he expected out of her mouth. Condemnation maybe. But quiet support? She knew what was at stake. What the hell had changed her mind? He would never understand women as long as he lived-at least not Jaimie.

He took up his pacing again. He’d just been handed the biggest asset a GhostWalker team could have-a psychic surgeon-yet he’d been kept in the dark. Would the boy have come forward in combat if there was an injury? Paul had been antsy the moment Gideon had stepped into the room. His hands had begun a complicated and obsessive-compulsive pattern, as if his entire body was already psychically tuned to the suffering man. What would have happened if he’d been exposed to Jaimie after she used her talent? Why hadn’t Sergeant Major, or Paul, revealed his talent so he could be used when he clearly so needed to heal? Mack rubbed his forehead. He hated mysteries.