The young man swallowed. So, it was true. We’re being hunted.
The woman waved her arm. “FLAME signal! We’ve got the laptop. Feeding the video stream. Now!”
The screen lit up with the familiar image of the older executive, the hotel trimmings replaced with a well-equipped conference room. A smart screen was embedded in the wall behind him, and it displayed an image of a prisoner in orange clothing surrounded by armed soldiers. He stood with his back to the image, staring down at the laptop, a perplexed look on his face. “Odd, the camera light’s activated.” He smiled with an embarrassed expression, looking past the camera. “Sorry, gentlemen. And gentlewoman! Damn technology isn’t my forte. You can be assured I’m not recording you, and the camera will be on me the entire time.”
The executive paused a moment, putting his fingers up to his neck, as if checking his pulse. He looked almost seasick.
“He’s showing signs of poisoning,” came the woman’s voice.
“Explain,” said Nexus.
As if forgetting that she interacted with someone located elsewhere, she leaned forward and gestured to the monitor, tapping places as she spoke. “Discoloration around the fingers, his breathing is labored, and he is sweating. There is a beginning of pallor. Disorientation will set in next.”
“Will it be enough?”
“Without a doubt,” she said clinically. “Nicotine is one of the most poisonous pharmacological substances known. It’s ten times more toxic per unit mass than arsenic. We’ve given him a dose of two hundred milligrams of the modified compound. One hundred cigarettes worth. It will enter his bloodstream very quickly with the transdermal penetrants we’ve spiked it with.”
“Does the modification reduce toxicity?”
“No, as long as it’s fresh. It severely decreases the half-life in the blood. But Mantis would have prepared it this morning. She was well briefed. The compound is maximally active right now, entering his system. In four hours, it will have broken down into smaller compounds, none of which are tested for. He’ll be dead way before that. There will be an elevated nicotine score in the lab results from what hasn’t hydrolyzed, but nothing high enough to cause suspicion.”
One the screen, Sapos resumed speaking, sounding as if he had just come up a flight of stairs. “As you know, we’ve been working to use our money for some good in this country. I personally have had enough of these rights violations in the name of national security.” He paused, wiping his brow and catching his breath. He seemed to sway slightly in place. “Invasion of privacy, indefinite detention, enhanced interrogation — they are practices for North Korea, not the United States of America.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, dragging it across his wet brow. A voice from behind the camera came through. “Mr. Sapos, are you feeling OK?”
Sapos smiled wanly. “Must be coming down with something. Feeling a little under the weather all of a sudden.”
“He’s still standing!” clipped Nexus. “It’s not going to be enough!”
“Wait!” said the woman. “It takes a few minutes for the levels to reach the lethal dose. He’s panting. His respiratory functions are severely compromised.”
The executive continued, his words beginning to sound slurred. “So, I have gathered you here — representatives of the ACLU, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch — to make an announcement. A generous gift.”
He stumbled, steadying himself on the chair in front of him, his eyes beginning to swim in their sockets. “A gift for you….to continue…. the fight. Dear God, what’s wrong with me?”
Suddenly, the figure was gone from the screen, a dark blur plummeting to the floor. A loud thud sounded, along with gasps and anxious chatter erupting from others in the room. Several figures swarmed the region in front of the camera, bending down to the floor.
“He’s going into convulsions!” yelled one.
“Damn it! Someone get paramedics here right now!”
One set of eyes focused in on the camera, the head cocked to one side. The face drew in closer.
“We might be blown, Nexus!” said the man in the van.
“I see it. Trigger the FLAME erasure module. Burn it from the hard drive and the smartphone!”
There was a flurry of keys clacking and an emphatic smack as Sentry struck the “enter” key. “Command sent! Protocol engaged.”
The screen flickered and suddenly went dark. All the commotion and sound from the conference room ceased. The interior of the van was suddenly still and silent.
“You’re sure he’s dead?” asked the voice over the speakers, the static pops jarring in the new quiet.
The woman nodded. “Very high probability. We’ll know for sure soon. He’s too important for this not to get out quickly.”
“Not important anymore,” said Nexus triumphantly. “Top-flight work, both of you.”
“And Mantis,” said the woman. “She played him like an artist.”
Nexus laughed. “And she’ll be well paid. As will the chemists.”
A cell phone buzzed, and the young man pulled it out of his suit pocket. He scanned the number and then starred at it, horror-stricken. “Jesus. He’s calling.” His voice quavered.
“Who?” hissed Nexus. The woman in the room looked over confused.
“Him,” whispered the man, as if the unanswered phone could hear. “Lophius.”
“Answer it!” cried the woman, her eyes large.
The young man pressed the touch screen and entered a code. He cleared his throat. “Sentry speaking.”
A faint mumbling sound could be heard from the phone, and the woman leaned slightly forward, her body tense as a rod.
The man looked up and spoke to the microphone. “Nexus, he wants to know why you aren’t picking up.”
“The secure connection doesn’t allow it from this device! Tell him that, and tell him the mission was a success.”
“He says he hears you.” The man’s eyes widened. “He also says to break everything down. Immediately.”
“Everything?” came a surprised voice over the speakers.
The young man looked terrified as he recited. “Yes, everything! All queued missions are aborted. All assets to go underground. Maximal threat. He’s says you’ll know what to do.” He starred at the phone and put it on the desk in front of him. He pulled his hand back like the device might burn him. “He hung up.”
“What else did he say?” asked Nexus.
“That it’s the worst. More confirmed kills. And…and that the program may be terminated.”
There was a long silence in the van broken only by the tense breathing of the occupants. The woman leaned over to the microphone. “Nexus?”
“Lophius is the boss. We’re no longer on offense, people. Time to circle the wagons and hope to God we weather this storm.” Neither person in the van spoke. “Do as he says! Break it down and disappear. You’re on your own until we contact you again.”
“What do we do until then?” asked the man, a bewildered look in his eyes.
“See if you can manage to stay alive.”
Static broke out over the speakers. The voice did not speak again.
3
Miguel Lopez tossed clothes and other items into a duffle bag almost violently, tearing shirts and pants out of the closet, ignoring his wife’s pleading.
“Miguel, please!” she shouted, following behind him as he darted to the drawers, continuing to throw things into the two bags open on the bed.
“What’s going on? Dear God, Miguel, talk to me!”