To his left, on the wall facing the table was a large TV screen with a camera mounted just above it for video conferencing. Apart from that and the table, the room was devoid of features or decoration.
Jericho glanced over his shoulder, out the window, as he heard a chopper flying low overhead. He saw it begin its descent, but couldn’t see from his seat where it actually landed.
He was impressed with the facilities, and found himself wondering why it looked so busy. He expected a fair amount of hustle and bustle as standard, but he thought all the activity outside seemed excessive.
Schultz leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and clasping his hands together, looking at Jericho. “Son, I’m just gonna get straight to it, because we’re short on time and long on problems.”
Jericho nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ve already said to your friend here,” he gestured to Josh, “if you lie to me, it’ll make me angry — which would be… unfortunate for everyone.”
“Would we not like you when you’re angry?” asked Josh, with a wry smile and deadpan expression.
Jericho glared at him, subconsciously tensing his considerable arm muscles, as he felt his frustration slowly giving way to anger.
Josh quickly held his hands up and chuckled. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “Sorry. It’s a force of habit.”
Jericho stared at him for a moment, and then took a deep breath, relaxing.
"What do you remember about what happened?” asked Schultz.
Jericho frowned as he fought to recall how the mission in Colombia went down. Vague silhouettes of memories floated around inside his mind, but everything remained stubbornly unclear.
“Nothing concrete,” he said, regrettably. “Just flashes.”
“Well, tell us what you do remember, and we’ll try to fill in the blanks,” added Josh.
Jericho tilted his head slightly, regarding each of the men in turn before his gaze settled on the British man. Josh Winters looked youthful, with his neatly styled short, blond hair, but his tired eyes betrayed his age.
“Sounds to me like you already know what happened… Who are you people?” he asked him. “Really?”
“I told you, we’re GlobaTech Industries — probably the biggest PMC in the world,” replied Josh.
“I know that, but why are you helping me?”
“Because you were left for dead by the people you worked for, and I can hazard a pretty good guess as to why. I personally thought it would be best all round if we could protect someone with your credentials.”
“What for?”
“Because my spider sense is telling me you’re one of the good guys, and that you want to do the right thing. I think we can help each other.”
“Spider sense?” he said, with mild disbelief. “What are you, five?”
Josh smiled. “It’s just one of my things. I like pop culture references — no situation is complete without one.”
“You’re a very strange man.”
“It’s been said,” he shrugged.
Jericho shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sitting up straighter, and massaging the base of his neck, which had started to ache. “I was on a mission…” he began. “A known terrorist had stolen a laptop from a CIA asset, and my unit and I were sent to capture him and retrieve the computer, and then… dispose of his body.”
“Was that your mission brief?” Josh asked. “That the man you were sent after was a terrorist?”
Jericho nodded, glazing over momentarily as he recalled segments of the conversation with the man in Colombia.
“He said he wasn’t,” he replied, frowning as more previously repressed details came flooding to the forefront of his mind as he spoke. “He said he was working for… for you.”
Josh nodded. “In a manner of speaking, yes, he was. Do you remember his name?”
Jericho let out a short breath. “Adrian Hell.”
“That’s right. So what exactly did your brief say about him?”
“Very little, from what I remember. Just that he was on the Terrorist Watch List, and he was a hitman.”
Josh nodded again. “Well, he is — sorry… was, a hitman. He retired.”
“You know him?”
“He’s my best friend,” he said, without hesitation. “I used to work with him, handling his contracts and his finances.”
“What, and you went from running an assassin to working in the private sector?” Jericho asked; the shock and instinctive disdain evident in his voice.
“That’s right. That’s a long story for another day, but I can promise you one thing: he’s not a terrorist. Now, in the interest of time, let me summarize everything that’s happened for you. An organization tried to recruit Adrian to work for them. When he refused, they sent waves of people to kill him — and he sent them all back, dead.”
“What does that have to do with my mission?” asked Jericho, as a full-blown headache gradually took hold. He was struggling to understand what he was being told.
Schultz cleared his throat. “The man you were sent to capture did steal a laptop, but it wasn’t from a CIA asset, like your briefing said. It was, in fact, taken from a goddamn terrorist sonofabitch.”
“Nicely put,” said Josh, smiling. “Poetic, as always, Ryan.” He looked at Jericho. “The laptop contained information about a government satellite, codenamed Project: Cerberus. You heard of it?”
Jericho shrugged. “Only what was made public about it. It was a government-funded satellite designed to monitor all communications within the United States, to track any potential terrorist threat before it happened.”
Schultz nodded at Josh, and then looked at Jericho. “That’s right. Straight off the disclaimer… Now, you received a new order from your superiors, specifically telling you to ignore any new leads on the whereabouts of the laptop and kill Adrian, didn’t you?” he asked rhetorically.
Jericho nodded.
“Yet, you didn’t. Why?”
“It didn’t feel right,” he explained. “My gut was telling me to believe what your friend was saying, even though it made no sense. And when the order came through, it set alarm bells ringing, so I tried to find out more information. I don’t remember what he said, though.”
Josh pointed his finger at Jericho. “And that’s what got you all kinds of shot,” he said. “The CIA doesn’t like people who question things. They never have, and they never will.”
“Huh… how the fuck would you know?” he said, immediately cursing himself for inadvertently confirming he had ties to the CIA.
“Jericho, this is me being completely honest with you — full disclosure, all the cards on the table, et cetera. I know you ran the D.E.A.D. unit, which absolutely wasn’t, in any way, shape, or form, a deniable, clandestine unit, secretly funded by the CIA…”
Jericho clenched his fists, using the action to suppress both his anger, and his concern. “I don’t know—”
“What I’m talking about? Yes, you do. And I know you do, because I used to be a member of the same unit, albeit a little before your time. In fact, I was there when it was created, way back when. So was Adrian. He used to run it, just like you did.”
“That’s not possible. The briefing would’ve—”
“Mentioned that? No, it wouldn’t. We both know you guys don’t exist, in the same way we didn’t, back in the day — hence the name. Difference is, back when we were doing it, the world was a different place. Nowadays, you can’t trust anyone.”
Jericho took some deep breaths and tried to relax as he processed the influx of new information. He was confused, but his gut feeling was to believe what Josh was saying. He couldn’t think of a valid reason why anyone at GlobaTech would lie to him. They saved his life, nursed him back to health, and were de-briefing him with a surprising amount of openness and honesty.