Maybe I should check the back door…
She placed her laptop on the floor, stood, and took a step toward the kitchen.
What if the OTM wants to kill me like they did Patrick?
She shook her head and stepped quickly through the dark kitchen, putting the thoughts out of her head, until she reached the back door and found it unlocked.
That’s weird.
There was motion behind her and then electric fire coursed through her body. All thought disappeared as her body went rigid for what felt like an eternity, and then she was slumping to the floor in a heap. Every muscle in her body burned, and she screamed, “Agh! Agh!”
The overhead light snapped on. Two men, both dressed in dark jeans and black shirts, watched her intently.
The first, a tall black man with bulging muscles, regarded her calmly. “We have the target,” the man said in a rich baritone voice. “She’s no threat.”
The other man, a short white man with a barrel chest and a thick beard, said in a deep drawl, “House is clear.”
The first man leaned over and hauled her to her feet with ease. “You’ve been tasered. I’m going to put you in a chair. Resist, and I’ll restrain you. You won’t like that. We clear?”
She tried to nod, but her head lolled to the side.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the man said. “You’re alone. Are you expecting anybody?”
She wanted to say her dead boyfriend but shook her head instead.
“Good. You’re a hacker. A member of the Digital Freedom Alliance.”
She finally managed to nod.
The man leaned forward and she saw the holster on his hip. He saw her staring and smiled. “You have anything to do with the newest leak?”
The man with the drawl watched her with a face as hard as stone. She swallowed hard and croaked out, “That wasn’t me.”
“I believe you,” the black man said. “What’s your name?” Before she could speak, he cocked his head to the side and said, “Don’t even think about lying. I’ll know.”
She believed him. He voice was pleasant, but there was a hard undercurrent to it that made her stomach churn. She had no doubt he could pull his gun and put a bullet in her without feeling a thing. “Lila. Lila Cavanaugh.”
“Well, Lila Cavanaugh, we got ourselves a situation. We need to find out who leaked that data. You broke the law, Lila. You did all kinds of illegal things. That last bit? With the CIA’s hush money? That wasn’t a good move, Lila.”
The white man stepped forward, grabbed another of the chairs from the table, and dragged it across the linoleum until he could sit across from her. “You ain’t got the context,” the man drawled. “You see shit that bugs you. I can respect that. You got morals. Ideals. But what you ain’t got is the bigger picture. You know?”
“How can you say that?” she muttered. “Those banks—”
“I ain’t talking ’bout the banks,” the man said. “I’m talking the CIA. There was money there, and it might not be clean, but it was going where it needed to go to do what needs done.”
“There were payments to terrorists,” she said.
“Maybe there was,” the man said. “Sometimes you got to support one group over another. I been in Iraq, girl. You can’t… believe what it’s like. Sometimes you do things you don’t want to do. Sometimes it’s a devil-you-know kinda thing.”
When the man with the drawl stopped, the other man spoke up. “Lila Cavanaugh. Born in London? Moved to Chicago when you were nine?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You know…”
“How did you get the information?” he asked. “Not the banks. We don’t give a shit about that. We want to know about the last bit.”
He’s got an earpiece. Someone is feeding him information. “I hacked a server—”
“That’s a lie,” the black man said. “You’re the kind of person that would have released that information as soon as you received it. I’ll ask one more time, and if you lie, it’s off to a dark site where you won’t see daylight until you’re fifty.”
“My — my boyfriend,” she stammered out. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”
The man squinted at her. “Patrick O’Mara.”
Time slowed as her brain went into overdrive and she finally realized the two men looked familiar, and then she jerked back in her chair as she realized they were the men in the video from Patrick’s execution. “You killed Patrick. You killed my boyfriend.”
She struggled to stand, hoping to get one good slap in before they killed her, but the black man grabbed her arm and held it firmly.
“We did not kill your boyfriend,” the man said.
“I saw it!”
“We were taking him into custody. We would have kept him safe. Someone else killed him. We think it’s the same person who orchestrated the last leak. We’re after him, and I think you can help.”
“I only have a few minutes,” Clark said. “Things are falling apart.”
“I’m well aware,” Hicks said. He leaned against the bathroom stall door, seemingly unconcerned by the filth. “The last leak could put the nail in the OTM’s coffin. What is Wise doing about it?”
“I haven’t spoken to him yet,” Clark said. “He’s with Nancy.”
“What about Fulton Smith?”
Clark shook his head. “The experiments on him… didn’t go his way.”
“Of course they didn’t,” Hicks said. “That’s what happens when you try and cheat fate.”
“What should I do?”
Hicks shrugged. “You may not have to do anything. It’s all clouded now. The OTM’s threat may not be as disastrous as the disclosure of its existence. Do you understand what this means?”
“I really don’t.”
“No one does,” Hicks said, his eyes finally focusing on him. “I spent so much time calculating the variables. I hadn’t even conceived of public disclosure. That’s the irony of black swan events, isn’t it? We can’t even see them coming until they’re already here. It’s ironic, because it’s exactly what the OTM is supposed to prevent.”
“Tell me what to do,” Clark pleaded.
“We let it play out. What other choice do we have? Unless you think we should end it.”
Clark’s stomach lurched. “I can’t make that kind of decision. I just can’t. How could you even ask?”
“We believed we could nudge them along,” Hicks said. “We let it go this far, because if America falls, who will rise? And now we may find out. I’m sorry, Todd, you may have to kill them all.”
The Gulfstream touched down, and Clayberg taxied to the OTM’s hangar. When the plane had stopped, Eric opened the Gulfstream’s door, and Karen marched the young woman onto the plane.
He waved at Martin and Redman, who tossed him casual salutes as they prepared to load the van into the C-17 for the flight back to Area 51.
When he turned back, Karen had deposited the girl on the seat next to Nancy and Alexandra.
He studied the young girl. She was a few inches shorter than Nancy, and with her spiky black hair, she could have passed for late teens instead of early twenties. Her black glasses looked like they were from the fifties, and she wore a worn Five Finger Death Punch t-shirt and thick sweatpants.
He waited for Karen to close the door, then punched the coms and said, “Move it, Hot Dog.”
“On it,” Clayberg answered.
Lila Cavanaugh remained quiet as the Gulfstream taxied back onto the runway, and then the plane went screaming down the runway and they were climbing at a speed approaching that of a fighter jet. When Clayberg finally reached altitude, Eric turned to Karen. “Find anything?”