“Ohan?” said Church. “I haven’t heard of him.” He glanced at Brick, who was already typing it into a MindReader search. Brick shook his head and mouthed the word “nothing.” “How did you come up with this intel, Harcourt?”
“Oh, you know what the kids are calling me when they think I’m not listening. Mr. Voodoo. I have my sources.”
Church made a noncommittal grunt.
“Anyway, Deke,” said Bolton, “this Ohan character has cornered a very specialized part of the global black market. He’s managed to obtain a lot of items from libraries, tombs, sacred sites, and university museums in areas overrun by ISIL. A lot of the stuff they claim to have destroyed because it doesn’t fit their version of Islam wasn’t so much ‘destroyed’ as sold. Ohan fences it for them and their cut goes into the Islamic State’s war chest. Somebody has to pay for all those bullets and beheading swords. Actually, from what I’ve been able to put together, it looks like ISIL is using that money to step up its game.”
“Step it up how?”
“That’s where this story gets really interesting, because I managed to get a partial inventory list from one of Ohan’s people. Call it a catalog page, or close enough. Some of the stolen tech had been in development by an international team of for-hire science nerds. Like DARPA, except they are completely mercenary with no specific national or political affiliations. Geeks R Us. Apparently some private labs in Syria had become go-to spots for off-the-books R and D. According to Ohan’s list, they had stuff in development for the Russians, the North Koreans, the Iranians, the Egyptians. Fun stuff, too. Missile defense jamming systems. Laser-guided man-portable rocket systems designed to take out drones. Like that. This is quality science, Deke. This is the kind of thing that could cause real problems for us and for NATO.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Three items on that list popped out and that’s why I called. The first is something called a ‘God Machine,’ which I can only assume is a code name. I showed it to a couple of big brains. You’re not the only one with friends in the industry. Heh-heh. Anyway, one said that it looked like a portable version of a hadron collider, which is a contradiction in terms. Those things are huge. The other said that it was a component of a directed-energy weapon being developed under the code name of ‘Kill Switch.’ A kind of nondestructive EMP device, as I understand it.”
“Ah,” said Church.
“Now you’re interested, right? Ohan claimed to have partial schematics for the God Machine and a completed prototype of the Kill Switch for sale. My sources tell me that ISIL snapped it up, which means that they’re looking to take the fight to us. And get this, they didn’t buy Kill Switch with cash money. What they did is give Ohan a couple of tons of priceless ancient sculptures and rare books for it.”
“This is very interesting, Harcourt,” said Church, “and I very much appreciate you bringing it to me. I’ll talk to POTUS about having the power blackout case shifted to the DMS.”
“Good luck with that. You’re not POTUS’s favorite guy these days.”
“We still have a useful working relationship.”
“Sure, but for how long?” said Bolton. “Look, it’s no secret that he blames you for him not having a chance at a second term. He thinks you should have stopped the Seven Kings. He hasn’t come right out and said that the drone disaster was your fault, but it’s clear that’s how he feels.”
Church said nothing. Brick shook his head, wanting to say something but keeping his vitriolic comments locked inside.
Bolton said, “Geez, I didn’t call to kick you in the shins, Deacon. It’s just that this power outage thing is scaring the crap out of me. If I was twenty years younger I’d go after this myself. Guess you feel the same way. But, bad luck streaks happen in baseball and special operations, too. They pass. Shame about Gateway, ’cause this Kill Switch thing would have been perfect for your boy Ledger.”
“Captain Ledger is not the only team leader I have in play.”
“Oh, I know, but he’s the best now that Samson Riggs is gone.” Bolton sighed. “He was good, Samson. The only guy I thought could give me a run for my money. Now there’s Joe Ledger. But you know, Deke, if we’re going to be honest about this, you’d never have gotten the funds to open the Special Projects Office if the president hadn’t taken me out of the game. That’s a fact.”
Brick Anderson watched Church’s face as Bolton said this. Was there a flicker of annoyance there? Or pity?
“Harcourt,” said Church quietly, “this isn’t a cult of personality. You did a tremendous amount of good as a field operative and now, with your intelligence network, it’s possible you’re even more valuable to the war we fight. No one will ever say otherwise.”
There was a pause on the line, a heavy silence.
“Christ, will you listen to me?” said Bolton. “I sound like an old dog yapping at puppies. Sorry, boy. Let’s put it down to stress and not enough sleep. Don’t hold it against me, Deacon.”
“Of course not, Harcourt.”
Bolton made a sound, somewhere between an uncomfortable laugh and a self-deprecating sigh. “I hate getting old.”
“We all do.”
“Yeah, well, it hits some of us harder than others. You never seem to change.”
“I feel my years,” said Church. “It’s why I stopped going into the field, too. I leave the gymnastics for younger men and women.”
“You left under your own terms, though. I didn’t leave the game, the game left me.”
“And yet here we are, Harcourt. You’ve brought valuable intel to me twice in one day.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re all superheroes. Got it,” said Bolton. “Listen, talk to POTUS. Run down that ISIL thing. Don’t back-burner it, Deke. If ISIL has gotten hold of some kind of portable EMP technology, then we are in deep, deep trouble.”
“Yes, we are,” said Church.
“Ohan knows who bought it. I passed this along to some guys I know in the field. Agency station chiefs who don’t have their heads up their keisters. I’ll send Ohan’s info to you, too.”
“I appreciate that, Harcourt,” said Church.
“And…,” said Bolton, drawing it out, “there’s one more thing. I don’t see how it could be connected to Gateway or ISIL or the EMP tech, but those ancient books ISIL gave to Ohan? I recognized some of them and it really gave me a jolt, too. Remember that op we ran about thirty-odd years ago? Belgrade?”
“Thirty-seven years ago. What about it?”
“That was the first time you and I crossed paths. I was hunting for a couple of Kazakhstanis who were trying to sell nuclear components from the old Soviet days. And you were doing that hinky little deal with Arklight to close out those shooters from the Ordo Fratrum Claustrorum? The Brotherhood of the Lock, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Remember what the Brotherhood were doing in Belgrade? Remember what they were after?”
Church said nothing.
“You never did find it. Well,” said Bolton, “someone else is looking for it now, and Ohan says he has it to sell. My sources tell me there are at least two buyers bidding on it right now.”
Church said nothing.