ground.
Langer
shuffled over. He rolled Jeremy onto to his side and stabbed a large, metallic
needle into the back of the boy’s neck.
Then
he pushed the plunger on the syringe and looked up at Ellison. “It’s in.”
Langer stood up and pulled a small tablet from his coat pocket; he tapped the
screen. “And we have a good signal. Vitals, GPS, counter-measures—everything’s
coming back green. We have him on a leash, Colonel.”
“Good.
Let’s move him inside. Major Ellison, I want you to walk with me,” McCann said.
The
colonel walked into the hangar, and Ellison fell into step alongside him, but
McCann didn’t speak again until they were both inside the elevator. “Have you
picked up anything new from the Red Moon?”
“Nothing.
Not since yesterday. There was some chatter from the Ryoko, that East Asian
group, but nothing actionable. We’re keeping an eye on it, sir.”
McCann
nodded. “Anything else then?”
Ellison
knew there was, but it was nothing to share with McCann, at least not yet.
Agent Hayden was AWOL from the base again. Sergeant Mandel had brought him the
report within an hour of the colonel leaving for Philadelphia. But Ellison also
remembered the night when he ordered Mandel to watch Hayden—the same night
Hayden held a gun to the back of Lieutenant Brown’s neck. Ellison and Hayden
were only sparring that first night, like two boxers in the opening round of a
prize fight, throwing jabs to feel the other man out. One of Hayden’s punches
had connected, but Ellison learned from the experience. The next time they
fought it would be for keeps. There would be a winner and a loser, and Ellison
wasn’t in the habit of losing.
Sun
Tzu wrote in The Art of War that an army shouldn’t fight until the
victory is assured. Hayden wandering off the base without permission wasn’t
enough to assure Ellison of anything. It would only annoy the colonel and tip
off Hayden to watch his back. No, Ellison could wait. He would wait until he had
something big enough to end Hayden once and for all—a knockout punch. Then the
problem would be solved for good.
“Major,
is there anything else I need to know?”
“No,
sir.”
The
elevator doors opened, and the colonel stepped out into the hall. “I’m going to
shower, change my clothes, and try to close my eyes for a couple of minutes,
but I want you to notify me the second the Cross boy wakes up. Am I understood,
Stuart?”
“Yes,
sir.” Ellison snapped to attention and raised a salute.
McCann
saluted back. Then the elevator doors slid shut, and Ellison stood alone.
Chapter
7
An
hour later, Major Ellison stood in a very different room. It was narrow, dimly
lit, and purely functional. On one of the walls there was a bank of computer
screens and monitors. Dr. Langer and two other researchers with lab coats sat
in front of these computers, typing and clicking, all in silence.
On
one of the video screens, Ellison could see a live feed from another room. This
second room was bright and sterile. It had stainless-steel walls, each one
uniform except in one of the walls where Ellison could see the seam of sliding
doors. In the middle of this steel room there stood a long table, and lying on
top of the table was Jeremy Cross. He was on his back, unconscious.
Ellison
looked down at his wristwatch. He had been waiting for over an hour and his
patience was wearing thin. He paced slowly toward the far wall and a soldier
standing sentry next to a metal door. The man’s M-4 was slung over his
shoulder, his back was straight, and his eyes were sharp. Ellison looked the
guard over with a sense of approval. Then he turned on his heels and started
back toward the opposite wall and another door with another sentry. This one
looked much like the first, only the man was too dull—somehow too bored. Too
complacent.
Ellison
turned away before he snapped at the man, and instead he walked back toward the
middle of the room. There, waiting in a chair behind the
Langer
shuffled over. He rolled Jeremy onto to his side and stabbed a large, metallic
needle into the back of the boy’s neck.
Then
he pushed the plunger on the syringe and looked up at Ellison. “It’s in.”
Langer stood up and pulled a small tablet from his coat pocket; he tapped the
screen. “And we have a good signal. Vitals, GPS, counter-measures—everything’s
coming back green. We have him on a leash, Colonel.”
“Good.
Let’s move him inside. Major Ellison, I want you to walk with me,” McCann said.
The
colonel walked into the hangar, and Ellison fell into step alongside him, but
McCann didn’t speak again until they were both inside the elevator. “Have you
picked up anything new from the Red Moon?”
“Nothing.
Not since yesterday. There was some chatter from the Ryoko, that East Asian
group, but nothing actionable. We’re keeping an eye on it, sir.”
McCann
nodded. “Anything else then?”
Ellison
knew there was, but it was nothing to share with McCann, at least not yet.
Agent Hayden was AWOL from the base again. Sergeant Mandel had brought him the
report within an hour of the colonel leaving for Philadelphia. But Ellison also
remembered the night when he ordered Mandel to watch Hayden—the same night
Hayden held a gun to the back of Lieutenant Brown’s neck. Ellison and Hayden
were only sparring that first night, like two boxers in the opening round of a
prize fight, throwing jabs to feel the other man out. One of Hayden’s punches
had connected, but Ellison learned from the experience. The next time they
fought it would be for keeps. There would be a winner and a loser, and Ellison
wasn’t in the habit of losing.
Sun
Tzu wrote in The Art of War that an army shouldn’t fight until the
victory is assured. Hayden wandering off the base without permission wasn’t
enough to assure Ellison of anything. It would only annoy the colonel and tip
off Hayden to watch his back. No, Ellison could wait. He would wait until he had
something big enough to end Hayden once and for all—a knockout punch. Then the
problem would be solved for good.
“Major,
is there anything else I need to know?”
“No,
sir.”
The
elevator doors opened, and the colonel stepped out into the hall. “I’m going to
shower, change my clothes, and try to close my eyes for a couple of minutes,
but I want you to notify me the second the Cross boy wakes up. Am I understood,
Stuart?”
“Yes,
sir.” Ellison snapped to attention and raised a salute.
McCann
saluted back. Then the elevator doors slid shut, and Ellison stood alone.
Chapter
7
An
hour later, Major Ellison stood in a very different room. It was narrow, dimly
lit, and purely functional. On one of the walls there was a bank of computer
screens and monitors. Dr. Langer and two other researchers with lab coats sat
in front of these computers, typing and clicking, all in silence.
On
one of the video screens, Ellison could see a live feed from another room. This
second room was bright and sterile. It had stainless-steel walls, each one
uniform except in one of the walls where Ellison could see the seam of sliding
doors. In the middle of this steel room there stood a long table, and lying on
top of the table was Jeremy Cross. He was on his back, unconscious.
Ellison
looked down at his wristwatch. He had been waiting for over an hour and his
patience was wearing thin. He paced slowly toward the far wall and a soldier
standing sentry next to a metal door. The man’s M-4 was slung over his
shoulder, his back was straight, and his eyes were sharp. Ellison looked the
guard over with a sense of approval. Then he turned on his heels and started
back toward the opposite wall and another door with another sentry. This one
looked much like the first, only the man was too dull—somehow too bored. Too
complacent.
Ellison
turned away before he snapped at the man, and instead he walked back toward the
middle of the room. There, waiting in a chair behind the
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