“Lose something?” Hal asked.
Weng angled his head, about to yell back to his brothers upstairs—
“—Call them and you’re dead.”
“What do you want?” Weng asked.
“What do you know about Henry Banks?”
“Who?”
“He was killed last night. Strangled. Execution-style, by men trained to do it.”
“I don’t know who Henry Banks is or what he does. We had nothing to do with it.”
Hal pondered the reply. It made sense. The Chinese MSS wouldn’t leave a body behind when they’re trying to maintain a low-profile. Weng’s answer only convinced Hal who the real killers were.
“Where is our equipment?” Weng asked.
“It’s safe,” Hal said. “I’ll give it back… in exchange for a favor.”
“I’m listening.”
“Is one of your men a computer specialist? A programmer?”
Weng nodded.
“You’ll get all your gear back, weapons and everything, if your man can hack a…” Hal searched for the words. Not sure how to describe it. “…mobile device.” Weng looked beyond Hal to Barrett’s old pick up, wondering if their gear was in it and what it would take to subdue Hal and get it back. Hal picked up on his glance— “It’s not here, but it’s safe. Nearby.”
Charlie and Matt heard the men talking and arrived behind Weng.
“Do we have a deal?” Hal asked.
“Shi,” Weng replied, nodding. Chinese for “yes.”
“Go ahead, clean yourselves up,” Hal said. “I’ll wait for you upstairs.” The three men proceeded around the back to the showers. Hal lowered the assault rifle and went to the back of the truck, pulling out the large suitcase he bought in France. He pulled a new burner phone from his pocket and texted a four digit code.
Hal removed the two Chinese laptops from the suitcase, setting them on the tables in the bunkhouse loft. He unzipped a side pouch on the suitcase, removing an array of cables, connectors and chargers of different shapes and sizes.
Weng was the first to arrive. Hair wet and in clean clothes. He spotted the QBZ-95 leaning against the wall behind Hal. Charlie and Matt trod up the creaky wooden stairs, following Weng. Did they all shower together? Hal thought, but resisted asking it aloud.
“Harold Sheridan, Special Tactics Officer, 49th Fighter Wing, United States Air Force,” Hal said. Extending his hand, shaking each of their hands. “But you probably knew that already.”
“You left out Imagery Analyst,” Weng said.
“It’s a desk jockey title. You’d drop it too. Just call me Hal.”
Hal motioned to an empty chair in front of the laptops for their programmer. Charlie took it, eyeing the pile of chargers and cables next to it. Weng and Matt each sat on a bed facing them. “I’m sure you know about the project,” Hal said. “The black op. There are some things you may not know. For one, I am not a willing participant. In fact, I’m wanted by those in charge of Project Cloudcroft — for stealing this…” Hal removed the helmet from the suitcase. Setting it beside the laptops. “…one of their ghost suits.”
Hal pulled the ghost backpack from the suitcase, setting it between the helmet and the laptop computer. “Problem is— it also comes with a GPS tracking device that I have no way of disabling.” Matt looked to Weng, wondering how safe they were in a room that could be leading the Americans to them right now. For all they knew, Hal Sheridan could be setting a trap.
Hal rotated the backpack, flipping up a small rectangular panel, coated in the shimmering SCIROC surface. “It’s a universal USB port. I’m thinking they wanted the operator to be able to charge the suit in the field.” Hal angled the port toward the laptop and nodded to Charlie. Charlie sifted through the cables and found a USB cable. He plugged one end into his machine and gave Hal the other end for the backpack. Charlie typed in his password and unlocked the computer. The backpack appeared as an external drive on-screen. Charlie clicked on it, but the screen froze.
He leaned back to Weng, speaking in Chinese. “It’s encrypted. I can crack it, but it will take some time.”
Weng nodded. Then turned to Hal, “We’ll get something to eat while he works on the password.”
Mrs. Barrett always made sure the bunkhouse boys were well fed. She kept their kitchenette refrigerator fully stocked. Weng removed a plate of meatloaf sandwiches she prepared the night before. Each one neatly wrapped in cellophane. Hal and Matt sat at a wobbly card table in the tiny dining area. Weng put the sandwiches on a plate, delivering them and a bowl of potato salad. He returned to the fridge for three beers and joined the two men.
“Not my cooking,” Weng said. “The rancher’s wife. They’re both very generous.”
Hal agreed and thanked Weng. Comforted that the men appreciated the Barretts. It let Hal know the Chinese MSS would avoid hurting the older couple if it ever came to that.
Hal mowed through half a sandwich and noticed Weng’s eyes rise to the window facing the driveway. A snaking dust cloud trailed a vehicle en route.
“The rancher is back,” Weng said.
“No, it’s a friend. It’s okay. I invited her.”
The her stayed with Weng. He could only assume Hal meant the woman from their earlier encounter, which almost cost the Chinese agents their lives. His assumption proved correct, as Jenny’s car emerged ahead of the dust cloud, pulling up to the front of the ranch house. The text Hal sent was a prearranged code for the rancher’s house, having no idea the bunkhouse would be a factor.
Jennifer emerged from her car and opened the white picket-fence gate, crossing a patch of grass to the ranch house. Hal opened the bunkhouse door and shouted her name. He grabbed the QBZ-95 leaning up against the kitchen wall, and went outside to meet her.
Weng and Matt watched as Hal met her halfway between the two structures. It was the first time he had contacted her since being back from France. Weng couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from Jennifer’s reaction it wasn’t good news. Her head dropped and she hugged Hal, the way someone comforts a friend when a loved one passes. Hal turned and mouthed something about the bunkhouse. Jennifer wiped tears from her eyes and was taken aback at whatever Hal told her. She seemed wary. Hal appeared to assure her and then escorted her to the bunkhouse.
Hal opened the door for her, introducing Weng and Matt. Jenny was apprehensive. There was a long, awkward silence. Her presence and involvement in the project was a mystery to Weng. A shout in Chinese from the upstairs loft broke the silence. “Wǒ dédàole!”
“He’s in,” Weng said. “He’s cracked it.”
Weng and Matt ascended the ladder-stairs. Jennifer was hesitant to go up. “It’s okay,” Hal said quietly to her. “They’re helping us.” Hal motioned for her to go up, following her — still clutching the Chinese assault rifle.
Hal and Jennifer arrived at the loft. Weng and Matt huddled around the computer, hovering over Charlie. Weng moved aside, giving Hal the chair next to Charlie. Hal leaned the rifle against the table beside him, looking at the computer screen. He noticed Charlie had hard-wired one laptop to the other. Jennifer saw the suit helmet and backpack for the first time.
“The login page,” Charlie said. “It opens automatically when you connect. It asks the username and password.” Charlie gestured to the computer on his right. “This computer has a hacking tool that enabled me to decipher both.” He typed in the username, CloudcroftNM49.
Jennifer watched over Hal’s shoulder.
Charlie typed in the password, QH//,7Xy482. “Case sensitive,” he said, looking back at Hal. Waiting for him to make a note of it. Hal dug out a new burner phone and navigated to the notepad. Texting both the username and password in.