Rogue Threat by AJ Tata

weeks we had no other movement.”
    Tedaues paused again and Meredith began to wonder where all of this was leading.
    “Then we saw a series of similar muscle movements in the opposing arm and in both legs. It was as if the patient was trying to force himself out of the coma. Really quite extraordinary. Naturally we had twenty-four-hour camera coverage of his entire body. In early October the patient lifted his head and opened his eyes.”
    Another pause and another chart.
    “From that point, he was officially conscious and registered a three on a fifteen-point scale that certified neurosurgeons use to classify coma patients. Our patient was different, however, than others that I have worked with and any other that I could find in my research. From the moment he became conscious, he had almost all of his physical capabilities. Only his cognitive abilities lagged behind his ability to move, sit up, and shortly thereafter, walk.”
    Meredith cocked her head. Remarkable .
    “This individual, before going into his coma, was an impressive physical specimen. He remains one today. Throughout his dormant stages, his body would go through a series of muscle spasms every day. Over time it appeared as though his subconscious was performing isometrics, stationary exercises. For example, his bicep would tighten for about a minute then relax. Then his forearm would flex, and relax. Most of his major muscle groups got some form of isometrics every day. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
    “Who is this person?” Hellerman asked.
    Rampert interjected quickly and said, “His name is Winslow Boudreaux. He’s from Louisiana. He is a special operations soldier. And he is ready for the mission.”
    Meredith looked at the vice president, wondering why he would ask that question. Her curiosity was piqued. She turned back toward the VTC screen, looking at the chart and then the doctor. She also wanted to ask what the patient’s real name was but knew she would be rebuked. Even at her level, these things were best kept secret. Plausible deniability was a very real fact of life in the national security business and knowing just a bit of Rampert’s reputation for risk-taking, Meredith logged a red flag in the back of her mind.
    “For the past two months, he has been more physically active than most Olympic athletes,” Tedaues said. “Every day he has been running, swimming, jumping from airplanes, lifting weights, and training with weapons.”
    “Mentally?” Meredith asked.
    Tedaues hesitated, looking at Rampert. “Operationally, he’s fine. He only lacks a recollection of experiences prior to his coma. But his instincts are formidable. He cannot tell you, for example, his name or phone number prior to his accident, but from the minute he woke up, he has been an expert marksman, just like before.”
    Meredith sighed and looked down at the table. This was a more complicated problem than she had originally considered.
    The door opened, producing a short male dressed in a blue blazer, white shirt, and red tie, with khaki pants. He looked harried, racing toward Hellerman. Ralph Smithers, Meredith noticed. Usually the bearer of bad news.
    “Sir, we’ve got a confirmation. Over five hundred passengers and crew members were killed in the train derailment. We’re still working the Charlotte Coliseum and Mall of America, but it’s . . . it’s bad,” he said.
    The VTC room fell silent, and Meredith could tell that everyone in the president’s situation room and the Joint Operations Center at Fort Bragg had heard Ralph’s comment.
    “When can he go in?” The president’s voice was crisp and sure.
    “Sir, he’s ready now.” Rampert’s voice was decisive.
    Meredith looked at Hellerman and nodded. He returned her knowing glance. They were about to send Frankenstein to meet Ballantine.
    The vice president turned to the video camera with a confident stare. “Mr. President, I recommend we execute Maple Thunder,