“Well sir, you instructed me to put together a new unit — the best of the best. I was just conducting tryouts.” And then, as if he needed to say nothing more in his own defense, he turned to Zelda. “She’s hired.”
Keasling continued to scowl at King, but the simple fact of his silence told King that he’d said the right thing. His new mission — the new unit, whatever it was — had already taken him out from under Keasling’s direct authority. After a moment, the general shook his head. “Fine. She’s all yours.”
Zelda’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “Now just a damn minute—”
“Deal with it.” Keasling kept his gaze on King. “Your new handler wants to brief you, ASAP. Get cleaned up.”
It didn’t appear to be in Zelda’s nature to “deal with it,” but she refocused her ire on the man chiefly responsible for it. She stalked forward and put a gloved fist against King’s chest. “You don’t own me, and you sure as hell don’t get to just claim me like some prize.”
King gently pushed her hand away. “Zelda… Sergeant Baker, I think you’re going to like the job I’ve got for you.”
“I already have a job.”
“Now you’ve got a better one.” He smiled. “Welcome to Delta.”
NINETEEN
There was just enough time for King to towel off the perspiration and get Parker to slap a butterfly suture on the cut under his right eye, before Keasling took him aside for the conference call with the new handler.
The general handled the introductions…sort of. “I have Jack Sigler — callsign: King — here with me.”
King didn’t know what to say, so he ventured a vague: “Hello?”
The voice that issued from the speaker sounded strange. It wasn’t just the normal crackles of squelch or the vagaries of radio transmissions. The voice had been electronically distorted, making it impossible to even begin guessing at the person’s identity. King couldn’t say with certainty whether it was a male or female voice. “King?” The distant unseen person seemed to be savoring the word. “A rather fortuitous choice. You can call me Deep Blue.”
“Deep Blue?” King could just imagine what Tremblay’s response to that declaration would be — something off-color, no doubt — and the thought brought a smile to his face. King however, correctly recognized the origin of the name. “Like the chess computer?”
“Exactly. It’s my job to know everything and be one step ahead of our enemies.”
The auto-tuned and digitally modulated voice could have been the voice of a computer, for all King knew. It was not a very comforting thought. The obvious implication was that this mysterious Deep Blue was going to be playing chess on a grand scale, with King and his new unit as the pawns. He didn’t like the idea of his fate being controlled by some mysterious entity, much less one that might not even be human.
“Or rather I should say,” Deep Blue continued, “to keep you one step ahead of your enemies.”
“I’m listening.”
“Operational Detachment Delta was created to give the President the ability to act — or react — rapidly, without having to wade through the mire of politics and command structures. But like everything else in government, it has gradually become a victim of the bureaucracy it was supposed to circumvent. Now, as you have personally witnessed, it has been compromised. The worst part is that we have no idea where this attack came from, much less who can be trusted. It will be General Keasling’s job to root out any bad actors still lurking in the shadows, but last night underscores the importance of having a quick response team — one with virtually unlimited resources — as a surgical option for the President to use as an alternative to the military.”
“You don’t need to sell me on this, sir.” King wasn’t sure if he was supposed to refer to his handler as ‘sir,’ but when in doubt… “What’s the mission?”
“First, build your team. From what the General tells me, you’ve already started recruiting.” The electronic distortion made it impossible to tell if Deep Blue was joking.
“Why me?”
“I think you already know the answer. Right now, you and your men are above suspicion. Additionally, the fact that you survived last night tells me that you are someone who can beat long odds.”
“I had a lot of help.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, King. You were thrown into an impossible situation, and you held it together.”
King wondered if the men who hadn’t made it back would agree with that assessment.
Deep Blue quickly switched gears. “However, our most pressing need right now is to bring those rogue operators down. Need I add, with extreme prejudice?”
King thought about what Parker had said earlier, during the first meeting with Keasling. “I think maybe we should be more focused on the question of why this happened, and what it is the enemy wants.”
“The CIA is working that angle, but gathering intelligence will be an essential part of the mission.”
“So you don’t have a clue?” It came out with more sarcasm than he intended, but Deep Blue let it slide.
“It would be dangerous to assume anything at this early stage. It appears that this action was completely unconnected to current military operations, but whoever is behind this was able to coordinate with the insurgents that attacked you last night. We can’t dismiss the possibility that this is a bold new terror plot.”
“The CIA contractor — Therion — was the target,” King said. “They wanted her for something. She’s a code-breaker; maybe they want her to hack into the Pentagon computers? Steal nuclear launch codes?”
“Now you understand why we have to act quickly and without full knowledge of our enemy’s goal.” Deep Blue must have sensed King’s earlier concerns, and after a pause, he continued. “You probably think that I’m playing a game with your life, and the lives of your men. Perhaps in a way that’s true, but it’s a game we have to win. In chess, you can never know exactly what your opponent is thinking, but you can draw conclusions from the moves he’s made. But you must never think that you are a pawn to be sacrificed for victory. As soon as I know something, you will know it, and when it comes to operational decisions, you have the final say.”
In King’s experience, assurances like that came cheaply and were worth even less. He wished he could look the other man in the eye, read the sincerity — or lack thereof — in that promise. “All right, let’s talk about those resources. We know where Rainer is, but that’s about all we know.”
“I’ve already made contact with Shin Dae-jung — the man currently conducting reconnaissance on the target. With the GPS coordinates he gave me, I’ve tasked a KH-12 satellite to get some real-time satellite imagery. That should give you a better idea of what you’re looking at.”
For a moment, King thought he misheard. The nation’s network of ‘eyes in the sky’ was controlled by the National Reconnaissance Office, an independent and specialized agency that kept a very tight rein on its product — detailed satellite imagery — and was positively miserly about the satellites themselves. Requests for pictures of a target had to go up one chain of command and down another, a process that could take days and could be very costly in terms of political capital. Actually changing the orbit of a satellite, a procedure that required the craft to use up some of its very limited and irreplaceable fuel supply, was something that almost never happened.
Deep Blue wasn’t kidding about having unlimited resources.
Maybe this new team was going to work out after all.
TWENTY
The excitement Sasha had felt as she donned the level-four biohazard safety suit in preparation to enter the sealed room where the relic was being kept, climbed to a fever-pitch of elation as she got a chance to actually behold the object — real, tangible evidence that the Voynich code was not a unique occurrence. That was about all that it revealed.