Assassin Zero. Джек Марс

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      “They called you in too, huh?”

      “Yup.” Strickland shook his head. “Just as I got to the VA hospital, too.”

      “You spend Thanksgiving with veterans?”

      Strickland nodded once, casually, which Zero took as an indication that it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. Todd Strickland was just shy of thirty, thick-necked and well-muscled, still favoring the military fade style of haircut that he’d worn during his time with the Army. His bright eyes, boyish features, and clean-shaven cheeks gave him a youthful and approachable aspect, but Zero knew that behind the façade was a force to be reckoned with, one of the best the Rangers had ever seen. Todd had spent almost four years of his young life tracking insurgents through Middle Eastern deserts, sleeping in sand, climbing through caves, and raiding compounds. He was a fighter, through and through, and yet he’d managed to maintain a compassion that was just as strong as his sense of duty.

      “Any idea what this is about?” Zero asked as the elevator doors slid open.

      “If I had to guess? Probably the attack on Havana last night.”

      “There was an attack on Havana last night?”

      Strickland chuckled lightly. “You really don’t watch the news, do you?” He led the way down an empty corridor. It seemed that just about all of Langley was enjoying the holiday at home with their families—except for them, of course.

      “I’ve been a bit busy,” Zero admitted.

      “Speaking of, how are the girls?” Strickland was no stranger to Maya or Sara; when the girls’ lives were threatened by a psychopathic assassin, the young agent had made a vow that he would keep an eye out for them, regardless of whether Zero was around or not. So far he had stuck to his word.

      “They’re…” He was about to simply say “they’re good,” but he stopped himself. “They’re growing up. Hell, maybe grown up already.” Zero sighed. “I gotta be honest. If we get sent out somewhere today, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about Sara. I don’t think she’s well enough to be left on her own.”

      Strickland paused as they reached the closed conference room door, beyond which the briefing would be held. But he lingered, and reached into his back pocket. “I was kind of thinking the same thing.” He handed Zero a business card.

      He frowned. “What’s this?” The card was simple, ivory, embossed with a website and phone number and the name “Seaside House Recovery Center.”

      “It’s a place in Virginia Beach,” Strickland explained, “where people like her can go to… recuperate. I spent a few weeks there myself, once upon a time. They’re good people. They can help.”

      Zero nodded slowly, a little taken aback by how everyone seemed to see it but him. Maya had already told him that Sara needed professional help, and evidently it was plain to Todd as well. He knew precisely why he’d been blind to it; he wanted to be able to help her. He wanted to be the one who pulled her through it. But he had already known, deep down, that she needed more than he could offer her.

      “I hope this wasn’t overstepping any boundaries,” Todd continued. “But, uh… I gave them a call to make sure they had space. There’s a spot for her, anytime she wants.”

      “Thank you,” Zero murmured. He didn’t know what else to say; it certainly wasn’t overstepping any boundaries to do something that Zero probably wouldn’t have brought himself to do. He stuck the card in his pocket and gestured toward the door. “After you.”

      He had attended scores of briefings in his time as a CIA agent, and no two were alike. Sometimes they were populated and chaotic, with representatives from cooperating agencies and video conferences with subject-matter experts. Other times they were small, quiet, and confidential. And even though he was certain that this one was going to be the latter, he was still quite surprised to enter the conference room and find only one person seated at the table, a single tablet in front of her.

      Strickland seemed equally puzzled, because he asked, “Are we early or something?”

      “No,” said Maria as she stood. “Right on time. Have a seat.”

      Zero and Todd exchanged a glance and took seats on either side of Maria, who was at the far head of the long table.

      “Well,” the younger agent muttered, “isn’t this cozy.”

      “I’m sorry for taking you away from the holiday,” she began. “You know I wouldn’t if I had a choice.” She said it as if it was meant more for Zero; Maria knew precisely who and what was waiting for him at home. After all, she’d been invited as well. “I’ll get right into it,” she continued. “Last night, an incident occurred on the northern waterfront of Havana, and we have strong reason to believe that it was a calculated terror attack.”

      She told them everything they knew; that more than one hundred people experienced a wide range of symptoms, and that the proximity of those impacted the worst suggested the use of an ultrasonic weapon positioned near the water’s edge. As she explained, her fingertips slid across the tablet’s touch-screen, navigating through photos of emergency services in Cuba aiding the victims. Some of them needed support just to stand; others had thin trails of blood running from their ears. A few were carried off on stretchers.

      “There was only one casualty,” Maria concluded, “a young American woman on vacation. And the weapon was not found, hence our involvement.”

      Zero had heard of this kind of ultrasonic weapon before, at least something like it, but aside from the tiny sonic grenades that Bixby had cooked up, he didn’t have any experience with them. But he had to acknowledge that despite the lack of any visual on a weapon or perpetrators, it did sound very much like a terrorist attack—which only made it more confusing.

      “Kent?” Maria prodded. “Penny for your thoughts?”

      He shook his head. “Honestly, I’m a little perplexed. Why go through the trouble of building or buying this kind of weapon when a single assault rifle and a few magazines would have done a lot more damage?”

      “Maybe it wasn’t about the damage,” Strickland suggested. “Maybe it was a message. For all we know, the perps could have been Cuban. They targeted a touristy area; maybe they’re nationalists, and this was some sort of violent protest.”

      “It’s possible,” Maria admitted. “But we need to work on facts—and the only facts we have right now are that American citizens were part of this, one of them is now dead, and this weapon is still out there… which is where you two come in.”

      Zero and Strickland glanced at each other, and then Maria. For a minute there, he had started to think that this might have just been an intelligence briefing, keeping them abreast of what had happened in Cuba, but with those few words he now understood what it really meant.

      There was no doubt about it; he was being sent back into the field.

      “Hang on,” said Strickland. “You’re saying that someone, somewhere in the world, has a fairly portable and powerful sonic weapon, and you want us to what? Just go find it?”

      “I understand it’s not much to go on…” Maria started.

      “It’s not anything to go on.”

      Zero СКАЧАТЬ