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Pine Tree looked the same as always. It had looked this way twenty-something years ago the first time Alex saw it and three years of use as a Magnos
site hadn't changed its outward appearance. He glanced over at Cassandra a couple of times on the final mile of Crabtree road. She looked happier than
yesterday.
Yesterday she had worn a pensive look all day and he hadn't intruded into her thoughts. If she wanted to talk she'd let him know.
If she wanted to talk. She couldn't or wouldn't for whatever reason - trauma mental or physical. Or both. She and Alex had learned sign language for brief
conversations but she wrote her longer thoughts and listened to his.
A couple times she seemed to have a slight smile but wasn't looking his way at the time so he wasn't sure. Getting out of Tennessee had been dicey and
her reaction indicated there was still a normal human being in there, but one that could be suppressed in an instant when survival was at stake.
Alex remembered something he'd heard somewhere, that in the fight for survival conscience is the first sacrifice. He knew there was a dark side to it,
and had seen it. People selling out anyone to save their own skin no matter the situation. He knew Cassandra wouldn't do that - she would kill to save
herself and even more readily in his defense - but she wouldn't harm an innocent person for any reason. He'd seen it when she held her fire when a
non-combatant was being used as shield.
Took a bullet rather than risk harming an innocent bystander.
It had turned out all right, but the brief bloody melee that followed had left her shaken.
Me too.
Most of the sunlight was blocked by enormous loblolly pines, hundreds of acres planted more than sixty years earlier. The road was on a strip about a
hundred feet wide, everything else was pine trees. The trees ended suddenly and they were in a clearing.
About a quarter mile wide and deep, the forty acres was a mile from the nearest paved highway and further from civilization. The road had to be upgraded
to get the materials for the compound in and allow resupply. A couple of trucks were at the loading docks of the larger of the two warehouses. Alex turned
left towards the headquarters.
Almost all the buildings were constructed of sheet metal, in this case painted a dark green that blended with the pine forest. It could be seen from the air
and thus by satellites or reconnaisance aircraft but the outward appearance gave no clue to what was inside.
Knowing that would require infiltration by human beings.
He parked Beowulf in near the main doors. The 1970 Dodge Power Wagon wasn't especially out of place - a couple of Vietnam-era Jeeps and a M809 of about the same vintage
were present along with several older pickups.
He killed the engine and looked over at Cassandra.
"Ready?" he asked.
She smiled, the smile of the sixteen-year-old girl that she would have been had her life not been rudely interrupted by some evil people at fourteen. Alex sensed the normal girl
was still there, occasionally surfacing in calmer moments.
They left their luggage in the truck and walked to the entrance.
Cassandra was wearing a white MA-1 flight jacket over a black turtleneck and tight jeans tucked into calf-high boots. White flight jackets weren't easy to find
before the trouble started but Alex already owned several. He found some smaller ones for Cassandra and they had become one of their trademarks. For those who knew them. The boots were
like Alex's custom made by a shop in Tennessee. The stiletttos sheathed in the tops were visible - a couple of other tricks weren't.
The glass double doors opened as they approached and a man came out.
"Glad you made it," he said. "Didn't have any trouble finding us, did you?"
"Not a bit," Alex replied. "Cass, this is Eric Martin. Eric, Cassandra."
Cassandra favored them with the usual shy smile.
"Nice to meet you," Eric said. Alex had briefed him on her situation and he didn't expect a reply. "The old man's upstairs, in a meeting just now. Let's go on up."
Through the doors was a large room, about twenty by thirty feet. On either end a wide stairway led to the top floor. Alex noted there wasn't much in the room -
a counter with a couple of stools behind it and three small tables, each with four chairs.
At the top of the stairs Eric led them across to a door. Inside was a large conference table and a dozen chairs.
"Grab a seat," Eric said, "and I'll check on the old man."
There was a computer at one end of the table and he sat down at the keyboard. Alex and Cassandra sat down in the first two seats and watched.
"They should be finished before long," he said. "I never know how long the before is. Can I get you something?"
He got up and went to a sideboard. Alex followed, Cassandra remained seated.
"Decent supply here," Eric said, opening a shallow cabinet. The narrow shelves were lined with various spirits. "I've been partial to a vanilla brandy lately, but
we got some decent bourbon, wine in the cooler."
"Arbor Mist?" Alex inquired.
"Should be." Eric opened the door. "Lessee, peach chardonnay, cherry red moscato, mango strawberry moscato..."
Alex picked up a bottle of peach chardonnay and held it up, Cassandra nodded.
Contributing to the delinquency...
He smiled at the thought. Cassandra at sixteen was more mature than most people twice her age. She'd been forced to grow up fast.
"That brandy sounds good," he said as he poured a glass for Cassandra.
Eric poured a couple of glasses and handed one to Alex. Returning to the table Alex set the drinks down at their positions while Eric
resumed his seat. He took out a cigar case and removed one, offered it to Alex, who took one.
They lit the cigarillos, Cassandra favoring Alex with a mock look of disapproval.
"Yeah, I know," Alex said with a grin.
He didn't smoke that much anyway, two or three small cigarillos a day, sometimes none at all if he was too busy.
Eric looked a the computer screen, moused tapped some keys and clicked the mouse a couple of times.
"Old man should be down shortly," he said. "Looks like they're wrapping up.
"I didn't tell you much when I called," he said. "We weren't real sure where we stood at the time. It looks like we may have a problem down at Rivertown."
"A problem somehow related to me?" Alex asked.
"Looks like it. When you were at Zulu-6, you were just in and out, free the prisoners and wreck the place, right?"
"Pretty much." Alex glanced at Cassandra. Not sure I like where this is going.
"What I thought. You took Cassandra to your place and took some time off.
"Cassandra, I know that may be an unpleasant subject for you, but we may need your help."
Alex looked back at Cassandra.
"You OK?"
She nodded.
"While you were out of circulation," Eric said, "the prisoners were taken down to Amarillo for interrogation. What we learned - or believe we learned - is
that we missed someone we'd like very much to get our hands on."
The door opened and William Maddox entered, followed by two men Alex didn't recognize.
"Hello Alex, Cassandra," William said. "These guys are from Amarillo, Mantis section. Don Farmer and Roger Harris, Don's the old guy."
"Watch who you're calling old," the guy who was apparently Don said with a grin.
Despite the jocularity Alex sensed a lurking danger in both men. Mantis types were like that. Like a cross between Navy Seals and ninjas.
Some say I'm like that.
Both were dressed in tan BDUs with no markings of any kind. Spooks, probably wore suits a lot, at the office or elsewhere. Don was about William's age, mid-sixties. Roger looked
like early thirties.
The men filled glasses at the bar and sat down at the table.
William lit a small cigarillo while the two Mantis agents lit cigarettes. The green filters gave them away - Alex had seen the cannabis-laced sticks used by other some ops
types. Cannabis and other stuff, from what he'd heard. He didn't use the things, but some swore by them.
"Don and Roger want to talk to you and Cassandra," William said. "About Zulu-6. We're tracking an infiltrator, we believe she may be at Rivertown."
Another glance at Cassandra, she was calm.
"She?" Alex asked.
"Yep. ISD operative, interrogating prisoners at Zulu-6. Among other things. She wasn't in the bunch we took out of there, apparently she wasn't there when you hit the place. We're not
even sure what she looks like, rumor is she not at all visually unpleasant. We've got some pictures that may resemble her. A few of the people we liberated have picked out
a couple that might be her. Would Cassandra be willing to look at them?"
Alex looked over, Cassandra nodded.
I don't like putting her through this, but she knows better than I do if she can handle it.
"OK, we appreciate it. I know it won't be pleasant, with what they went through. Some of them are still in the hospital in Dallas, in therapy, some may never recover."
"William gave us an office here," Don said. "How soon can we do it?"
Alex looked at Cassandra, who was signing an answer.
"Any time's good," he said. "I have to be there."
"Got it," Don replied. "How about tomorrow morning?"
Cassandra nodded.
She hadn't told him the details of her experience as a prisoner at Zulu-6. He knew enough from descriptions given by other prisoners and didn't want her to revisit it. Unless she
wanted to, and she hadn't indicated any desire to. Keeping it all inside could be hard for some people, not so much for others. He suspected Cassandra was one of the others.
"There's still an hour or so of light," William said. "Eric can show you around a bit, you can see what we've been up to lately."
"Sure," Alex said. "Cass hasn't been here before. Want to take a look around?"
Cassandra nodded. They drained their glasses and got up.
"I've got a conference call at 2100," said William. "If nothing comes up I'll be in my quarters the rest of the night."
"Got it," Eric said. "See you guys in the morning."
"See you," Don said.
He and Roger had arrived the day before, Alex had been told, and wanted to see him and Cassandra as soon as possible. He hadn't been told the purpose of the visit
and guessed Cassandra had been invited because they knew that Alex went nowhere without her.
Still, I should have picked up on that, specifically including her.
Eric took out a small radio and keyed the mike.
"Maria?"
"Yes master."
Eric's girlfriend.
"Can you get someone to take care of our guests' luggage? The big Dodge. I had their rooms set up yesterday."
"Got it. Anything else?"
Eric looked at Alex.
"Bottle of that brandy would be nice," Alex replied. "Cass, anything?"
She shook her head. She didn't drink much, only socially and not much then.
"Just the usual," Alex said. There were always snacks and beverages.
"That should do it," Eric said. "I'll be up after dark."
"Gotcha."
Outside they followed Eric to one of the jeeps.
"Wanna ride up front?" Alex asked. "You can see more."
Cassandra smiled and nodded, climbed aboard. Alex took the back right side seat.
"We have a chopper pad back here," Eric said, driving towards a corner of the cleared area. A large circle enclosed by a low fence about five feet high had been smoothed
and kept mowed. "Two hundred feet, not that we're expecting anything big enough to require that much space."
"That would be rather large," Alex replied, wondering what was up.
"As you'll learn later," Eric said, "we're expecting to be ferrying people and small equipment to and from Wintertop. We might have been able to squeeze in a short runway
here but there's not that much need."
Ferrying personnel? Interesting.
Alex knew Wintertop had a four thousand foot runway, having arrived and departed from it a couple of times.
Driving around the perimeter Eric pointed out several recent additions.
"Those new warehouses will give us quite a bit of room for growth," he said. "One sixty by eighty, two floors."
Guess I'll find out tomorrow what they're up to.
Back at the headquarters building they were met by Maria and a couple of staff.
Maria tried to give Cassandra a thorough examination without seeming to stare. Alex winked at her but she kept a straight face. Cassandra intrigued everyone.
"If you're ready to turn in," she said, "Lisa and Lori will show you to your rooms. Breakfast is from six to ten, whatever time is good for you. You remember where the
dining room is?"
"Yeah, thanks," Alex replied. "We get up early so we should be down by 0700 or so." Lisa and Lori were identical twins, mid twenties. He didn't remember them, but then he hadn't
met many of the two hundred or so people her.
Alex and Cassandra sat up for a while in his room, talking using a chat app on their commpads and occasionally sign language. When Alex initiated an exchange he usually did it
by speaking and Cassandra responded using her pad or signing, depending on how long or complex her response was.
The rooms were connected, and Alex followed Cassandra to inspect her room. There was no danger here but it was a habit they never allowed to lapse.
"Are you alright talking to these guys?" he asked.
She nodded. She rarely displayed any emotion beyond the shy smiles for friendlies.
What am I worried about? She's gonna be all right, tougher than me."
She moved closer and put her arms around him, held him briefly.
"Good night," he said. She smiled and gave him an OK sign.
Alex returned to his room and had a brandy and a smoke before turning in.
It was just after 0700 when he and Cassandra arrived at the dining room. Eric and Maria were already there, they walked over to their table.
"The old man should be with us shortly," Eric said. "Our Mantis friends are setting up in their office. Hit the buffet and join us."
They were having a second cup of coffee when William arrived. He got a cup of coffee and joined them.
"Whenever you're ready is good," he said. "We've got all day."
Alex looked at Cassandra.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
They joined the Mantis men in the office they were using. Alex and Cassandra had their tablets, useful for longer messages. And
private ones.
Don and Roger were sitting at a small table with their computers and briefcases on it. Two seats on the other side were unoccupied.
"Grab some seats," Don said, "and we'll get started. Hopefully it won't take too long."
They sat down and put their tablets on the table, powered them on and opened a chat app.
Roger took a folder out of his briefcase and put it on the table.
"Cassandra," he said, "we'd like you to look at some pictures, tell us if you recognize any of them."
He took a stack of sketches like those used by police when a photo of a suspect of whom photos were not available and passed them over to Cassandra. Alex looked over at
them as she examined them.
It's been two years.
The drawings were all similar - a woman in her early to mid-thirties. Collar length hair, brown in the colored ones. They looked as if they had been made by
various artists, perhaps at different times.
There were twelve of them and Cassandra examined them carefully, going through the stack several times before setting two of them aside. Alex watched the Mantis guys for
a reaction.
They're cool ones but...
Cassandra passed the two back first, then the others.
"These?" Don asked. Alex watched Cassandra's hands.
"Could be," Alex said. "It's been a couple of years."
"I understand," said Don. "How about these?"
He passed a stack of eight by ten photos. Cassandra looked at them and selected two more.
"AI-generated," Don said. He passed three more photos to Cassandra.
Cassandra looked at them briefly and selected one. Her hand was shaking slightly as she handed it to Don.
"This one?"
Cassandra nodded.
Don handed it to Alex. It was a thirty-something woman, fairly attractive, what Alex called pretty but not too pretty.
wouldn't stand out in a crowd. The khaki uniform she was wearing looked like the one worn by the Zulus. The rank insignia
would be on the lapels or epaulets and those weren't in the picture.
"Denise Bentley," said Don. "Attached to the Zulu outfit, believed to have been at Zulu-6 when you guys hit it. She wasn't
among the prisoners or the dead. Whether she happened to not be there or escaped we don't know. This woman...", he handed him another photo,
is at Rivertown. They sent it over by courier about a week ago."
Alex glanced at Cassandra, she was expressionless.
"Why?" he asked.
Hardly need to ask.
"We don't know," Don replied. "She may be casing the place, which would suggest some operation is imminent. Or..."
"She's there to ice someone," Alex said.
"What we're thinking."
He picked up another photo and handed it to Cassandra.
"That was taken a couple of weeks ago," he said. "Would you have recognized her?"
Cassandra tapped on her tablet. Alex looked down at his.
"Maybe," he said. "Or not. If she's changed her appearance that much."
"That's no problem," Don said. "We're keeping a close eye on her. A couple of facial ID scans with five nines accuracy says it's her.
We want to interrogate her but we need to know what she's up to before grab her."
"If she's there to whack someone you better be careful," Alex said. "Even if you know, or think you know, who it is."
"We are being careful. We know how dangerous she is."
"I can't ask Cassandra to..."
His tablet beeped and he looked down.
'its ok'
He looked at Cassandra, she nodded.
"Bruce Carter is your contact at Rivertown," said Don. "I don't believe you know anyone there."
"As far as I know. How likely is this woman to recognize Cassandra?"
"Extremely unlikely," Don replied. "And her appearance has quite a bit, and she's a couple of years older."
Not naked and filthy and near death from starvation and...
He looked at the beautiful young woman sitting beside him.
I wouldn't recognize her.
He tapped a message to her, waited for a response.
'I'll be all right'.
"You ready for this?" he asked aloud. Cassandra nodded.
"OK," he said. "We're good."
"You haven't been to Rivertown, have you?" Don asked.
"No," Alex replied.
"Bruce is a good man," said Don. "He's one of Malcolm's lieutenants. He and David Kelley are run the operations. They and Malcolm are the
only ones aware of the infiltration at this point. So we don't know what she may have picked up - in any case she won't escape."
Malcolm Reilly wasn't likely to be happy about the situation. He had built Rivertown literally from nothing at a crossroads six miles from the nearest
habitation. Sitting on a bluff over the Black River it monitored river traffic, nothing passing without being surveilled and logged.
And sometimes intercepted. Black Rock was the nearest town - nine miles away - and Rivertown kept a dozen or so agents there.
From Reilly's reputation Alex wouldn't want to cross him, but enemy operators generally had roughly equal parts arrogance and stupidity. What
they wanted from Rivertown...
What are they doing there anyway? Hiding something the enemy wants? Or thinks they have?
"Any idea what they're after?" Alex asked.
"None," Don replied. "Rivertown has a big cache of gold, something like ten, maybe twelve million. Enough to interest our enemies.
It's well hidden, and even if an agent learned the location they couldn't very well haul it away without being caught. And a raid
isn't even remotely feasible.
"Other than that... that's where we stashed the Sullivan boys."
"That might interest certain people," Alex said.
Warren Jackson had carried out a prison break that had greatly annoyed some powerful people. The Sullivan brothers had been in a gulag in Illinois,
Jackson had taken a team to break them out. The prison operators got the idea that a breakout was being planned and decided to move them to another
facility, exactly as Waren had planned. Attempting to do it covertly they used a single van to transport both, with only two escort vehicles. Warren's
team neutralized the escorts and stopped the van and freed the brothers. Two guards in the van were killed, along with the four personnel in the escorts.
Only the van driver survived and one of the Sullivan boys kneecapped him. With a shotgun. He survived but it was close. The Sullivan brothers had promised
vengeance on their former tormenters and the state in turn put a big price on their heads.
"She's not there for the reward," Alex said.
"No," said Don. "They want Warren pretty bad, and he's known to be there. How they found out about the Sullivans - or if they did - we don't know. They'd
like to take Warren out, or capture him if possible. He's been a thorn in their side for a long time, before the Sullivan deal and since."
"First we have to find out if it's her," Alex said. "If it is we can monitor her and see where it leads."
"Pretty much. We hope Cassandra will be able to help there. None of the other survivors alerted on the sketches or photos."
"Anyone besides Jackson and the Sullivan boys a high-value target?" Alex asked.
"Malcolm himself of course," Don replied. "Definitely keep an eye out for that. And sabotage is a possibility. Or setting the place up for a strike."
"What sort of assets?"
"They have a small air arm. Four light planes, several drones - we don't have a current inventory but the have some fairly capable ones - and a pair of
Hueys."
"Hueys?"
"Genuine Vietnam-era vintage," Don replied. "Door guns and all. Well, not the rocket launchers or the M75, which would be nice. They've come in handy a couple of times."
"Ironhand?" Alex guessed. "Or is that need-to-know?"
Don grinned.
"Not an official secret," he replied, "but not spread around carelessly. One of the reasons the Rivertown air arm might be a target. And that's about it. We'll get it
set up a visit. They'll want you in quiet, low-visibility. Cassandra especially, just in case. But she has to see the target to make a definite ID."
He passed a folder across to Alex.
"The dossier," he said. "Everything we have, and it's not much. Basic military background, nothing unusual before the transfer to Zulu. Not much information gets out
of there. The bunch you guys took out of Zulu-6 accounts for almost all we've gotten our hands on."
"What's the plan for going in?"
"Rivertown has about four hundred personnel, little over. People come and go daily, always at least a few. Just present this at the gate and they'll let you in with no
questions. They'll have your ETA and descripton, and Bruce will be waiting. Here you go."
He handed Alex a small object. It was shaped like a medieval knight's shield, about two inches long. The front was divided into four quarters, the letter 'M' in the upper
left and a 'C' in the lower right. The upper right had an oak tree and the lower left a torch.
"Take a look at the back," Don said.
The back had the numbers 6-4-9-3-2 stamped, as if added manually after manufacture.
"Got it," Alex said. "Being extra careful."
"Always," Don said. "Good luck. We'll be in contact with Bruce. This could be important."
After dinner Alex and Cassandra talked for a while before going to bed. They hadn't been alone all day and the brief
messages they exchanged were perfunctory.
"Everything all right?" he asked. She gave him an OK sign.
"Did she look the way you remember her?"
A nod.
"I'm guessing they want to be absolutely certain," Alex said, "have you there, in the room so to speak. Is there anything not in the photos
that you remember?"
Cassandra typed on her pad.
'tattoo inside left arm above he wrist'
"Something that wouldn't show with long sleeves?"
Another nod.
"Anything else?"
'the way she walks'
"Really distinctive?"
'like a man'
"I see."
He hadn't asked Cassandra and she hadn't told him any details of her experience. He knew what some of the other prisoners had related. He read a few of the
files and was too disgusted to continue. It was pretty repetitive anyway. Denise Bentley had joined in the torture, and enjoyed watching women being raped
and tortured. No doubt that was where Cassandra knew her from.
Lucky they want her for something they think is important. I'd kill her myself. Or let Cassandra do it.
"She won't get away this time," he said.
The next morning they left at first light. Rivertown was sixty or so miles away, all on secondary roads. There were more rice fields than anything
else in this part of the country.
Cherry Valley, population 684 was the first of several small towns they passed through. The police car was at the Shell station convenience store. In happier times
the town's one cop would be running a speed trap, getting inattentive outsiders to help with the budget. These days all local cops were on 24/7 alert for security needs.
Alex had topped off Beowulf's tanks before leaving Pine Tree and drove straight through. Harrisburg was a little bigger at 2314 souls, and had a Shell and an Exxon
at the main intersection. As they passed through Elm Creek the navigator showed five miles to destination.
Close. They likely have people stationed here, undercover.
He glanced over at Cassandra. She was occupied with her tablet.
Shouldn't be putting her in this position. But maybe she wants to see this. I probably would.
Rivertown was surrounded by a high chain link fence, two of them actually, about thirty feet apart. The area between would be patrolled and probably had sensors and
cameras feeding the command center. The gates were closed - rebel enclaves generally had a good relationship with nearby communities but security was essential.
Even this deep in Alliance territory and a place as nominally insignificant as Arkansas infiltrators were regularly captured.
Several men were inside the outer gate, which opened as they approached. Alex stopped Beowulf halfway through and lowered the window. Two men approached, both wearing
police bodycams and radios in addition to their other gear. Both were wearing only sidearms but several of the others held rifles casually, muzzles down.
"Morning Mr. Duncan," the nearest one said. Alex knew his image was being examined at a command post somewhere. Another man had walked towards the passenger side, and
Cassandra was being checked out as well. Alex held up the Mike Charlie shield, reversed.
"Clear," the radio said.
"Welcome to Rivertown," the guard said. "Follow that Jeep there and they'll get you where you want to go."
"Thanks, guys," Alex replied.
He eased Beowulf forward as the gate ahead opened. A Jeep that looked like it may have been to Vietnam - certainly of that vintage - was just ahead. The road ran straight
as far as he could see. The Jeep proceed only an eighth of a mile or so before turning onto a side road. After another couple of hundred yards it turned into a large parking
lot. A large two-story building on one side was flanked by two smaller ones. The Jeep driver parked in a slot and the passenger gesured towards the space beside it. Alex
parked Beowulf in the slot and killed the engine.
Alex dismounted and waited for Cassandra to join him. The passenger in the Jeep climbed out and approached. He was a young man Alex recognized as Bruce Carter from the dossier
Don had shown him. He didn't look his age of thirty-six even with the beard. Alex would have guessed thirty or so. He was wearing the forest green of the Rivertown militia,
captain's bars on the epaulettes. Big black pistol in a belt holster.
"Welcome to Rivertown," he said. "All right if these guys get your luggage?"
A group of four men was approaching, all in uniform.
"That'll work," Alex replied. "Let us get our briefcases. The rest of it can go."
He opened the back door on his side and took out the two briefcases he and Cassandra carried.
"All yours," he said.
They followed Bruce up the sidewalk to the main entrance. Inside they stopped at a reception desk.
The woman at the desk was wearing Sergeant stripes.
Sergeant Andersen, thirty something. Serious looking.
"Melanie," Bruce said, "this is Alex and Cassandra. Malcolm is expecting us."
"Indeed he is," Sergeant Anderson replied with a reserved smile. "He's in his offices. Go on up, I'll buzz him."
She pressed a button on an small switchboard as they turned to go.
They followed Bruce up the wide stair in the back wall. Down a corridor to the left of the landing they found Malcolm's offices.
The door was open and Bruce led them in.
Malcolm Chambers looked to be in his fifties, but looks could be deceiving. Most people in the resistance were physically fit and had little in the
way of careless living behind them. A little over medium height, slim with sandy hair, he could be a doctor or accountant or salesman. From what
Alex had heard appearance was in this case deceiving.
Chambers was ex-military, having bailed out after a dozen years in Army intelligence. He had gone to Ranger school and flown on some highly classified missions, but
it was the knowledge necessarily acquired in the business that led him to get out and as far away from the government as possible. Alex watched him come around from
behind the desk and saw the movements of a highly conditioned fighter.
"Alex, Cassandra," he greeted them, "let's go into the conference room."
He seated himself at the head of the table and Bruce sat on the side to his right. Alex and Cassandra took seats across from Bruce.
"Thanks for coming," Malcolm said. "I've been apprised of your situation. And of what went on at Zulu-6. If the woman here is in fact Denise Bentley we'll have to
be careful. We need to know why she's here."
"You don't figure she's just probing?" Alex asked.
"I doubt it. She's an assassin and we have multiple possible targets."
"Warren Jackson and the Sullivan boys?"
"Yeah. She could well be after one or both. And someone else."
"More important than Jackson?"
"You know Daniel Sherman?" Malcolm asked.
"Heard of him. Don't tell me he's here."
Malcolm grinned and took a small cigar case out of a shirt pocket.
"Smoke?"
Alex took one of he small cigarillos. They both lit up.
"You're not supposed to know he's here," Malcolm said, "so I won't tell you. If they have any idea he is here he's the one she's likely after."
"He is rather more than just a thorn," Alex said. "Is he running Cobalt Sabre from here?"
"One more thing you're not supposed to know. He's been here since July, and he'll be running the operation from here. If they know he's here..."
"Interesting dilemma," Alex said. "They'd be smart to not let on, knowing where he is and us not knowing they know could be an advantage. But taking him out might
look even better."
"Exactly. She came in about three weeks ago with a team from Lonetree. Josh Gilbert and four people not vetted by us but cleared by section G. I've known Josh
for years but wasn't sure about the others. So I asked him, and he checked them out with some of his connections. They were able to clear three of them but not
her. So I dug some more."
"She was the only woman in the group?" Alex asked.
"Right. So I took a few pics and sent them along. We didn't have anything on her but he found the connection to Zulu-6. We
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