Shadow zero, p.14
SHADOW ZERO, page 14
She ran in a circuitous route, hoping both to elude her pursuers by moving sideways instead of straight away and to remain close enough to the compound that she could return later and recover the data core.
Are you serious? You're barely alive, Maya. You need to get out of here, find extraction, and come back with a proper SOG team. This is too much for you. You're in over your head.
No! The agent’s voice interjected. You are Agent Specter. You will not fail.
But God, she was so thirsty. She needed water so badly.
She was so focused on this need, that she didn’t notice the shadows ahead of her darken to blackness. She stepped into that blackness to feel the ground disappear. If she was fresh, she might have been able to stop herself or at least throw herself against the cliff and grab the edge.
But she wasn’t fresh. She was on her last rope. She was bruised and beaten and demoralized and dehydrated, and by the time she realized she was falling, she was already on her way down.
She did the next best thing she could. She curled into a ball and protected her head as she crashed into tree trunks and whipped through branches and bounced off of rock and rolled down dirt.
She had no idea how far she fell. It could have been a few dozen feet or a few hundred or a few thousand. She only knew that when she landed, the world fell away.
***
The taste of blood brought Maya back to semi-consciousness. She opened her eyes halfway and looked up at a sliver of stars pouring through a jagged wound in the pitch-black sky. She stared at that wound for a brief eternity before realizing that the wound was formed by the two sides of the ravine into which she’d fallen.
She was still alive. That surprised her. The ravine appeared to be about two hundred feet deep. Even with her fall broken by repeated obstacles, she should have stayed asleep. Part of her wished she had. Sleep was comfortable. Sleep was pain free. The longer she stayed awake, the more her pain returned. She knew it would get bad soon, very bad.
Something tickled her ear. She assumed it was an insect or a rodent of some sort. She tried to muster up the energy to slap the offending creature away, but the best she could manage was to lazily lift her left arm and let it fall next to her head.
It fell not onto a skittering creature but into a trickle of wetness that wrapped around her fingers and sluiced past her knuckles to reach her head once more, this time behind her ear.
Water.
Water!
With a hoarse cry, she rolled over and opened her mouth to the water. What entered her mouth was thick mud that tasted like mold and fermented death.
She spit the offensive brew out, retching and shaking her head. But the brief taste had forced some alertness into her mind, and when she got to her knees and looked, she saw that the mud was formed by a slight trickle of water that had forced a small opening in a riverbank.
She was next to a river. This ravine housed a river. She cried out again, shuffling forward, and when she put her lips to the river, the water was cool and clean and crisp and the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
She sipped too much, and a voice warned her to stop or she’d cause a sodium imbalance that would kill her. She nearly ignored the voice, but when the voice also told her that she would throw up all of the water she was drinking, she pulled her head free, gasping and shivering with joy instead of pain.
"Oh God," she gasped. "Oh, thank you, God."
Maya didn't believe in any god, but she offered her thanks anyway. As hydration brought more clarity to her mind, it hit her just how dependent humans were on their basic necessities. Her training—and, let's face it, her pedigree—had led her to believe that she was above such trivialities, but after what she'd experienced so far in this jungle, she realized in no uncertain terms just how frail she really was.
A pang in her stomach reminded her that thirst wasn’t the only pain she suffered. She got to her feet and looked around. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and with no trees to block the night’s light, the river, at least, was illuminated well by the sliver of moon and starlight overhead.
The water was indeed clear, something she was grateful for as her growing clarity reminded her now of the infection she could suffer from drinking dirty water. She thought of the mud she’d tasted and hoped she’d managed to spit it out before any microbes could find their way into her gut.
She needed food, though. She was glad for the clean water, but it would have been nice to see fish or turtles, anything she could cook and eat inside of that water.
She heard a rustling sound to her left and looked over in time to see a creature emerge from the shadows and approach the water. It was about four feet long and two feet tall. It had a stout body somewhat resembling a pig, a ratlike tail, long thin ears like a rabbit, and a protruding snout like an anteater.
Another memory crossed her mind. She was little, maybe five years old, and her mother was reading a book about animals, showing her pictures and singing the words.
"Aardvark, Aardvark, look at me! Ants and termites are what I eat! I have a big, long nose, and I snuffle food like this! Won't you come over and give me a little kiss?"
After reading that, her mother would make a snuffling sound against Maya’s neck and pretend to be an aardvark eating her. Maya would giggle and struggle, and her mother would snuffle and tickle her until they both collapsed into laughter and just smiled at each other.
A tear ran down her face, and a soft sob escaped her lips. The aardvark jerked its head up, and Maya stilled. Her hand slid slowly down her pants and confirmed that she still had the dagger she had taken from Azaan in her pocket.
That was the moment she realized she was going to kill and eat that aardvark. She felt a touch of sadness at that. She wasn’t vegan, and she didn’t have a problem with killing animals for food, but this was the first time she had to kill something herself.
Her stomach twisted, and her sadness faded, replaced by the timeless animal urge to eat. She didn’t have a choice. She needed food, and this was what was available.
Sorry, buddy, she thought. This is what I have to do.
The aardvark, responding to another timeless animal urge—that of prey to flee—turned and started to bound away.
Too late. Maya rushed forward with catlike speed, pouncing on the animal and driving her knife into his throat. The aardvark shrugged her off—it was far larger than she expected it to be—and trotted forward a few steps, but Maya’s knife stroke had taken its toll. The animal collapsed to the ground, released a soft, wet bleat that reminded her disconcertingly of the baby goats at the petting zoo at the National Zoo in Washington, then stilled.
Maya sighed with grief and relief in equal measure, then began to gather firewood. An hour later, she bit into a slice of roasted aardvark. Maybe it was only because she was starving, but the meat tasted like the most delicious pork chop she had ever eaten, even if it was a little tough.
She ate until the voice in her head warned her again about overindulging. When she was full, she set the rest of the meat above the flame to smoke and thought about her next steps.
There wasn’t really much to think about. She had a job to do. Her body ached everywhere, but her takedown of the aardvark showed her that none of her injuries were debilitating. She could still fight, and now that she had water and food, she could fight with strength.
She was going back for that data core. She was going to stop Bakari from selling that data to terrorists who would use it to kill millions of people, even if she had to do it by herself.
She was Agent Specter, and she would not fail.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Katerina interlaced her fingers and rested her chin in the hammock they formed above her desk. She looked at the slideshow of images moving across her screen at a pace of one photograph every five seconds and felt her interest in this operation grow.
One photograph showed a white woman who appeared to be running from a large African man—nearly as large as Boris—who had just left a room of a large building and was pointing at her with blood dripping from his face. She was drawing a knife across the throat of another African man, this one of average size. Interestingly, she wasn’t looking at her target. Her eyes were focused on the jungle ahead, presumably where she intended to escape. That suggested both great skill and great confidence. This must be the EOT agent.
The hulking figure to her left spoke in a husky baritone. “The woman is Agent Specter of the EOT.”
“The name sounds familiar.”
“She was part of the team that broke up the Malvinas Cartel last year,” Boris replied.
"Ah, yes. I remember now."
The Malvinas Cartel was one of the Bright concerns, albeit a minor one. Their loss was annoying but easily addressed by bribing officials within the Peruvian government and increasing the output of the Rio Azul Cartel.
“As you can see,” Boris continued, “She was unable to retrieve the data core.”
“Yes,” Katerina agreed. “Do we know if the Waswahili Liberation Front was able to access the data?”
“We don’t believe so,” Boris replied. “There have been no reports of sensitive CIA data on the black market. However, it does appear that the Front has secured a buyer.”
“Who?”
“The North Korean government.”
Katerina raised an eyebrow. “A surprisingly bold move from them.”
“Their new supreme leader is brash. He intends to follow through on the promises of his predecessors and lay waste to the United States.”
Katerina scoffed. “Well, good luck to him. Unless that data core contains the launch codes for the U.S. nuclear arsenal, they have about as much chance of doing that as I do of winning the heavyweight boxing championship.”
Boris gave her a smile, revealing his golden left incisor. With his bald, craggy head, rough beard, and enormous build, the smile always reminded Katerina of a pirate. “You are a fine boxer. You could have won a championship if you wanted.
Katerina scoffed. “Please, have you seen those women? They look like gorillas.”
She uncrossed her legs and stretched, lifting her hands above her head and arching her back so her breasts pressed against the fabric of her low-cut dress. Boris had never shown any sign of attraction to her—or any other woman for that matter—but she wasn't showing off for him. She just liked the feel of her body moving. It reminded her that in beauty, as in all other things, she was better than others.
"Well, I think the Dragons' best chance is to retrieve the core after the transfer is made. Presumably, the North Koreans aren't sending a battalion of soldiers to purchase the core?
“No, ma’am. Five men. One buyer and four bodyguards. Elite bodyguards but no match for the Dragons.”
“Is that all? In that case, instruct the Dragons to slaughter the North Korean retrieval team and take their place prior to the transfer. Have them bring the core to Sarajevo. Our team at Advanced Intelligence will read the data.”
Advanced Intelligence was a legal but highly classified organization that provided artificial intelligence services to the Bosnian military and moonlighted by providing technological services to Katerina whenever she needed them.
Boris nodded. His smile vanished, replaced by a sober expression. “There is one more image you must see, my lady.”
Katerina lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Boris leaned over her and tapped the keyboard with fingers as thick as sausages and as hard as old leather. The image of the escaping CIA agent disappeared, replaced by an image of a man entering the jungle. The light was somewhat darker here. The photograph appeared to have been taken at dusk without the benefit of the artificial lights that illuminated the Liberation Front’s compound.
The man was Caucasian, of above average height and with a lean but powerful build. He wore cargo pants, combat boots and a combat vest with body armor sewn into the lining. The vest contained many pockets and all of them were filled, also the ones on his pants and several pouches clipped to his belt. She could see no weapons other than a tactical knife in a sheath on that belt, but she assumed he carried some.
“Is that the other EOT agent?” she asked.
Boris shook his head. He tapped a few more keys, and Katerina’s facial recognition software began to analyze the figure. The face was obscured by a hat and a beard almost as long and ragged as Boris’s, but as the software worked through the data, Katerina realized what Boris was trying to show her.
She looked at him, eyes wide. He nodded, and she gasped and turned back to the computer.
The software beeped. It had found a match.
Not a good match. According to the software, there was only fifty-seven percent confidence that the person in the satellite image was who the software believed it might be.
That person was none other than Agent Zero.
Katerina took a deep breath and released it slowly through gently parted lips. “Agent Zero,” she whispered, letting the name slide over her tongue like poison.
She said it again, this time letting it spew from her mouth like venom. “Agent Zero.”
“We can’t be confident that’s who it is,” Boris said. “It’s very unlikely that he’s still alive, and if—”
“He’s still alive,” Katerina insisted. “I know it.”
“If he is,” Boris continued patiently, “he has no reason to be in Tanzania. The CIA has disavowed him and declared him dead. They wouldn’t want him interfering with their operation.”
“It’s no longer their operation. The CIA has disavowed Agent Specter as well.”
“True,” Boris admitted. “As I said, it’s possible. I just don’t want you to hope too much and be disappointed.”
Katerina laid an affectionate hand over Boris’s meaty forearm. “You have always been kind to me, Boris. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps this is not the man I seek. Instruct the Dragons to confirm that man’s identity, and if he is Zero, have them capture him and bring him to me.”
Boris frowned, clearly not agreeing with Katerina’s decision, but he didn’t argue. “As you wish, ma’am.”
He laid his massive paw over hers for a moment, then left. Katerina stared at the image on the screen, her heart beating rapidly, her chest heaving.
“Agent Zero,” she repeated. “I pray to God that this is you. I pray to God I will be able to look you in the eye and collect what I am owed for the loss of my father. I pray to God that we will meet soon.”
She leaned back in her chair and rested her arms on the upholstered arm rests. She crossed her legs, lifting the left one high and sliding it over her right thigh. She smiled at the image and let herself fantasize about the moment when she would sit just as she was now and look her enemy in the face.
Hello, Zero she would say. It’s time to receive what you are due.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
When Zero saw the terrorists moving back toward their compound without Maya, he felt an odd mixture of relief and anger. Relief that they hadn’t found Maya, anger that she was still missing, still away from him.
And possibly dead? Could they have killed her and left her behind?
He and Trent had spent hours tracking them but seen no sign of Maya. Surely they would have heard something if the terrorists had found her.
“We need to talk to one of them,” Trent said softly. “We can’t keep playing from behind.”
Zero agreed. He wanted to rush forward and kill all of them, but until he found Maya, he couldn't go that far. He needed to know where she was, and killing everyone who might have that answer was bad business.
That, and the little issue with the nuclear launch codes. He couldn’t forget about that.
He looked at the terrorists and found a straggler walking near the back of the group. “That one,” he said. “I’ll take him. You cover me in case they notice.”
“Right.”
Zero and Trent moved quietly through the trees, keeping out of sight of the terrorists and waiting for their opportunity. The man in the back was lost in his head, talking to himself and grinning. He had a swagger that Zero was certain he hadn’t earned yet. He probably looked at his leaders and fancied himself like them. One day, he would be the leader of an outfit like this. Then the world would fear him.
Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, Zero thought. Except that I’m not.
The man walked past Zero. Zero struck like a snake, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and squeezing tight. The man struggled for a few seconds, then went limp. Zero dragged him away. The other terrorists didn’t so much as look back.
“Damn, Zero!” Trent said, “That was awesome!”
Zero resisted the urge to roll his eyes and also resisted the brief surge of pride he felt at the younger man’s admiration. “Help me tie him to a tree.”
Trent worked quickly, binding the man’s wrists above his head with a length of vine and looping the vine over a tree branch. The man moaned and stirred softly.
Zero helped him by slapping him hard across the face. The man gasped and stared at the two Americans in bewilderment and shock. When he realized who he was looking at, his eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”
“What’s your name?” Zero asked. “I’m Zero.”
“Talon,” Trent added.
“Abdulla,” the terrorist replied, jutting out his chin. “Do your worst to me.”
Zero shrugged. “If you say so.”
He drove his fist into the terrorist’s liver. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and when he retched, his legs drummed on the ground.
Trent shifted uncomfortably, and Zero resisted the urge to roll his own eyes. The kid would need to get used to this if he was going to be a CIA agent.
“I’m going to level with you, Abdulla,” Zero said, lifting the man’s chin to confirm that his captive was still conscious. “I’m starting to get worried. We’ve spent all night looking for our comrade. It’s now daylight, and we haven’t found her. That concerns me.”
