“Smart people are always difficult. Always looking for answers. And the answers always lead to more questions.” He accelerated the van toward the parking lot exit, and she slid into the rear doors.
She crawled forward again. “Who was that man?”
“I rest my case.”
“He said he was with Homeland Security.”
“There are people who work for the people who run the world. He’s one of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they send the Black Chinook for me now.”
“You kidnapped me. You can’t seriously have expected me to trust you.”
“Why the hell did you trust them?”
“The FBI? Homeland Security?”
“You don’t seem the brand-conscious type, Professor.”
“Don’t be glib. I needed independent verification that this was real.”
“Oh, it’s real, all right. Think of it as an iceberg; you only see what’s on the surface. There are people beneath; people who built the systems that run everything.”
“In the government?”
“What difference does it make whether they’re in the government? They’re larger than government. They’re power. The world is a big system now. I don’t think anyone knows who’s in charge. But you can run afoul of various interests. That’s for damn sure. And you just did.”
She pondered that—then looked up at him again. “Shaw.”
He met her eyes in the mirror.
“That’s your real name: David Shaw.”
He clenched his jaw for a few moments. “That was his idea of a warning—letting me know that they know who I am. They think it gives them power over me.”
“But your family? Your—”
“It won’t lead them to anything. That’s why the colonel chose me.”
They locked eyes in the mirror.
“‘Shaw’ was the name of the road they found me on. It’s a common practice with foundlings at orphanages.” He looked back to the road. “All names were made up at some point. I just know when and where mine was.”
McKinney slumped against the sliding door as the van sped along a service road.
“Well, you poured some blood in the water tonight. Let’s see what shows up.”
That’s when McKinney noticed they were actually moving along the airport tarmac, approaching a large propeller-driven aircraft. McKinney recognized it as a C-130 cargo plane. She’d seen them used on various research projects in remote locales, although she’d never been aboard one. There were vehicles and work lights around it. Silhouettes of people rushing around.
In a few moments the van rolled to a stop. Odin got out, but Smokey was already opening the sliding door. He stood in the doorway a moment. “Look who decided to join us.”
She sighed resignedly as he pulled her up out of the van and onto her feet. They were parked next to the C-130’s lowered rear cargo ramp. The plane itself was unmarked and painted drab brown. Tail numbers were the only markings. Other team members were busy loading gear, while Hoov scanned the skies with some sort of boxy optical device on a tripod. But they all stopped for a moment at the sight of McKinney and broke into mock applause.
She looked guiltily to Odin. Hoov, Ripper, Mooch, and several more people she hadn’t seen before were all dressed in civilian clothes with no guns in sight. At a hand signal from Odin, they immediately resumed loading cases and checking equipment.
Odin produced a key and started unlocking her chains and handcuffs. “You want to escape, Professor?” He tossed the handcuffs and chains into the van and closed the sliding door. He then gestured to the vast expanse of tarmac around them. “There! You’re free to go. Best of luck to you.” He stomped up the cargo ramp.
Foxy stood alongside McKinney as she watched Odin go. He whistled. “Impressive. You got under his skin.”
She looked to Foxy. “I hope you don’t take what I did personally.”
Foxy held up a clipboard. “Well, let’s see. Our electronic warfare truck’s been impounded by the Feds, we had to destroy servers and prototypes we couldn’t move, we lost our JOC, and we’ve had to dangerously accelerate the entire timeline. Basically you fucked everything up.” Foxy looked up from the clipboard. “But on a personal note: That was seriously metal.”
CHAPTER 16
Damage Control
“We have a problem, Henry.”
Henry Clarke looked up from his Chateaubriand in surprise. He spoke while chewing. “Good to see you too, Marta.” Clarke gestured with his fork to his date. “Emily, meet Marta. Marta, Emily.”
The young woman smiled amiably, extending a dainty hand. “Nice to meet you.”