The Enemy, page 1
The Enemy
by
Alex Lukeman
Copyright © 2022 by Alex Lukeman
http://www.alexlukeman.com
This is a work of fiction. Organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used entirely as an element of fiction. Any resemblance of characters in this book to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means except by prior and express permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
The Project Series
Dedicated to those who defend freedom.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Further Reading: City of Gold
The Project Series
White Jade
The Lance
The Seventh Pillar
Black Harvest
The Tesla Secret
The Nostradamus File
The Ajax Protocol
The Eye of Shiva
Black Rose
The Solomon Scroll
The Russian Deception
The Atlantis Stone
The Cup
High Alert
Solomon's Gold
Phoenix
The Last Option
The Black Templar
The Sword
The Lair of Anubis
End Game
The Enemy
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Dedicated to those who defend freedom.
Chapter 1
The scorpion scuttled across the hard packed earth on top of the hill, looking for something to eat. An insect, a spider, or a centipede, anything would do, the scorpion wasn’t picky. It crawled around a square metal object rising out of the ground and continued on, past the man lying motionless a few feet away.
The scorpion was a “death stalker,” one of deadliest creatures on earth. If it decided to wander over and check him out, he might have to move. But if he moved, one of the satellites high up in the Iranian sky might see him. He watched it crawl out of sight and breathed a small sigh of relief.
Full dark was minutes away. He waited another hour, until the only light came from the vast spread of stars overhead. Without any pollution from nearby humans, the stars threw plenty of light to see by. He moved out from under his camouflage netting, rolled it up, and placed it to the side. Then he opened the pack lying next to him.
First he took out an object that looked like a child’s toy. It had an antenna, four rubber wheels, and an odd appendage that looked something like a miniature elephant’s trunk. He reached again into the pack and extracted the control unit. It had a screen, a tiny joystick, and several buttons. It was about the size of a smart phone, but it wasn’t a phone. The technology it contained went far beyond that.
He pushed a button. A tiny green light lit on the device with the wheels. The screen on the control unit came alive. He touched the joystick and the device rolled forward.
In a darkened room on the other side of the world, a technician in an Air Force uniform sat in front of a console and a large monitor. Two men in civilian clothes stood behind him. The monitor showed only a blinking red dot. Suddenly the screen lit with greenish light, illuminating a low, square object sticking out of the earth.
“Sir, GHOST is online.”
“About time,” one of the men said. “Took him long enough.”
“Now we’ll see what those bastards are up to,” the second man said.
They watched as the camera mounted on the mobile unit moved toward the object. They were looking at the top of a ventilation shaft. The picture changed, moving over the edge of the shaft, then looking down and in.
“He’s deployed the snake,” the technician said.
They watched as the image dropped down through the shaft. There was little to see. The camera mounted on the end of the snake moved through a dark tunnel of metal duct work. Then the image grew brighter.
“Something ahead, sir,” the technician said.
The camera came to a large vent in the side of the duct work and paused to look through the grid into the room beyond.
“It’s a laboratory,” the first man said.
“Yeah, but what kind?” his companion said.
“Look along that wall. Those are animal cages. It must be a bio lab.”
“Where are the animals? Wait a second. Why aren’t any of them moving? You see what I see?”
“Shit. They’re all dead.”
The camera moved.
“Oh, oh,” the second man said. “Not just the animals. The director isn’t going to like this.”
At that instant, the screen went dark. The red dot that represented GHOST disappeared.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, sir. The connection is gone. So is the GPS locator on GHOST.”
“Shit,” the first man said again.
“Better hope they didn’t take him alive,” the second man said.
Chapter 2
Clarence Hood sat in Elizabeth Harker’s office, sipping coffee with the woman who was his friend and sometimes lover. Elizabeth ran the Harker Group, technically a consulting firm. Calling it a consulting firm was like calling the Roman legions a marching band.
In the past, her team had operated under the protection of the U.S. President, but that was no longer the case. In the relentless cycle of American politics, a new administration had entered the White House with different ideas about how the country should be run. The current occupant was a man who believed in personal and political agendas first and the country second.
One of his first actions was to proclaim a new era of transparency. He’d denounced U.S. involvement with covert operations. At the first available opportunity, he’d withdrawn government support from Elizabeth and her team.
Elizabeth had taken the group private. Official or not, there was a lot of demand for the specialized skills her team could provide. She had powerful contacts scattered around the globe, and a reputation for getting results. She no longer had the blessing of the White House, but not much else had changed.
Clarence Hood was a former director of the CIA. After the new president fired him, he established a strategic think tank, the Hood Foundation. There were few people Elizabeth respected for their intelligence and perception, but Clarence was one of them. She waited for him to tell her what was on his mind. From long experience, she knew the look on his face meant he was concerned about something.
“Come on, Clarence, out with it. What’s going on? You look like the end of the world is coming.”
He put his coffee cup down on her desk.
“That’s the problem,” he said. “It might be.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I wish I could say no, but I’m worried, Elizabeth.”
She waited. Hood took a thumb drive from his pocket.
“Before I say anything more, I’d like you to watch this. No one is supposed to know about it. I’m not supposed to have it. If you watch it with me, you’ll be breaking every secrecy law on the books and probably some even I haven’t heard of.”
“And your point is...?”
Clarence laughed. “Okay, I just thought I’d give you a chance to back off before you’re involved.”
He handed her the drive. Elizabeth plugged it into her computer. They both turned to look at the monitor on the wall, where a greenish image filled the screen. A “play” message blinked at them.
“What am I looking at?” Elizabeth asked.
“That is the top of a ventilation shaft. What you’re about to see was taken a week ago. The location is way out in the boonies of southern Iran. There isn’t anything of any consequen
“Ah. Our old friends the Iranians.”
“The White House has decided to dismiss what’s on this recording. It seems like it’s always the same people making decisions when it comes to Iran. Either they don’t believe the mullahs are serious about WMDs and using them, or they simply don’t care because they’re making too much money looking the other way. What’s on here could create a real shit storm. It could screw up deals with the Iranians that are making some people rich.”
“You’re getting cynical, Clarence. Washington has been making deals with the mullahs for a long time.”
“Yes, but this is different. Go ahead and run the video. Then I’ll tell you the rest of it.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and clicked on “play.” They watched as the camera entered the shaft, dropping down and around until it came to a screen where it could look out on the room below.
“Pause it there,” Clarence said.
Elizabeth studied the screen. “A laboratory,” she said. “Animal cages, but they’re all sleeping or...Oh. I see. They’re all dead.”
“Right. Let it play.”
The camera panned around the room. Two people in white coats lay on the floor, their bodies twisted and contorted. A dead man slumped backward in the chair at his desk, lips pulled away from his teeth in agony, the front of his shirt streaked with black vomit. Then the screen went dark.
“That’s it?”
“That’s all there is,” Clarence said. “It was sent in real time to Langley by satellite. The transmission was cut short. Since then there’s been no contact with the operative who took that video. He didn’t show up for his extraction and he hasn’t been heard from.”
“I won’t ask how you got this.”
“I wouldn’t tell you. In this case, you don’t need to know that.”
“When are you going to realize I don’t need protection, Clarence?”
Hood smiled. “I figured that out a long time ago, Liz. But you still don’t need to know.”
“Mmm. You said you were going to tell me the rest of it after we watched the video.”
“What we just watched tells us Tehran has developed a bio weapon of some kind. A plague, a gas, something really nasty. There must have been an accident at that lab and it got loose. Our problem is we don’t know exactly what it is. The people who ought to be doing something about it have decided not to rock the boat.”
“Politicians never like an inconvenient truth, unless it’s to their advantage,” Elizabeth said.
“One of the reasons I started the Foundation was to try and make a case for stronger national security. This is a good example of why we need it. Those fools in the White House want to look the other way when it comes to Iran. However, there’s an opportunity to make them pay attention. That’s where you come in.”
“I’m listening.”
“A top scientist in the Iranian Ministry of Science wants to defect. There are two opposing factions at Langley. Likewise in the Pentagon and the White House. One faction wants to avoid provoking Iran at any cost. From their point of view, helping this person defect would be a major provocation. The other wants to get her out of there as quickly as possible.”
“Her?”
“Her name is Jahleh Kezri. She’s a genius, a major player in their weapons research program.”
“You’d think getting her out would be a top priority.”
“You and I would think that. But that doesn’t square with the new way of doing things at the White House.”
“Sometimes the stupidity of people who gain power in our country boggles my mind,” Elizabeth said.
She looked at Clarence.
“Where do I come in?”
“The Iranians have no intention of letting anyone know what was going on in that laboratory.”
“But you think Jahleh Kezri knows?”
“I’m certain she does.”
“And no one at Langley or the Pentagon or the White House wants to get her out?”
“I didn’t say that. What I said was the people in charge refuse to do anything. It doesn’t fit with their agenda.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“You want me to activate the team and extract her.”
“With the government stonewalling, there’s no one else who can do it,” Hood said.
“You’re asking me to go against the express wishes of the government. To do something that could be viewed as treason.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, Clarence.”
“I’m not alone in asking you to do this. I’ve had discussions with certain people who are worried about the political decisions currently coming out of the White House and the implications for our security. It’s clear something has to be done. All of us agree you are the best choice to pull this off. If you can get Kezri out of Iran, we can find out what’s going on.”
“Certain people?”
“You don’t need to know who they are, at least not yet.”
“Are they going to protect me and my team if something goes wrong?”
“I’d be lying if I gave you any guarantees.”
“So you’re appealing to my sense of patriotism over my common sense?”
“That’s about it.”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That everyone on the team knows what the stakes are and agrees.”
“I would expect nothing else,” Hood said.
Chapter 3
Nick Carter stepped out of the shower and picked up his phone. Water dripped onto the bathmat under his feet. He reached for a towel with his free hand.
“Yes.”
“Good morning, Nick.”
“Morning, Director.”
Her voice was tense.
“I’m calling everyone in. Ronnie and Lamont are on their way.”
“When? I just got out of the shower.”
“That's more than I need to know at the moment. Valentina isn’t answering her phone. Do you know where she is?”
“She’s been traveling, sightseeing around the country. She showed up a couple of days ago and she’s staying with us,” Nick said. “Probably still asleep.”
“Wake her up. Get here as soon as you can.”
Harker disconnected.
Here was group headquarters in Virginia, a federal style mansion built in the 1880s by one of the robber barons.
Nick toweled himself off and wiped steam from the mirror. Whatever the reason Harker had called, it would keep until after he’d shaved. He rubbed his hand over black stubble, ran the water and lathered up.
He looked older than his age. That was what happened when you spent too much time in places where people were trying to kill you. It showed in the purple welts and scars on his body, the hard line of tension around his jaw, something in his eyes. His eyes were smoky gray, spotted with flecks of gold. Long ago, a girl he’d known told him his eyes reminded her of a wolf. He’d taken it as a compliment.
Nick’s looks were decent enough, but no one was ever going to give him a job as a male model. He pictured himself posing for an ad. The thought of how ridiculous that would look made him smile. He finished shaving, went into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of briefs, then Dockers and a blue shirt. He grabbed a light gray sport jacket from the closet. He left the shirt open at the collar, but stuck a tie in his pocket in case he needed it. When you went to a meeting with Harker, you never knew where you’d end up. For all he knew, he’d be on his way to the other side of the world before the day was out.
Selena called from the kitchen.
“Coffee’s ready.”
Nick and Selena lived in a renovated factory loft overlooking the Potomac. The place was huge, but they used every inch of it. They had a gym, extra rooms, a wall of windows that overlooked the river, and a kitchen that any chef would envy. There was an armory filled with weapons and a security system good enough for the Pentagon.
Access to the armory was through a hidden panel at the back of a walk-in closet. Most of what was hanging on the walls inside the room was illegal. You couldn’t walk into your local gun shop and buy the kinds of things the team needed in the field. As far as that went, you couldn’t walk into a local gun shop in Washington and buy much of anything.
Now that they were no longer tied to the government bureaucracy that gave D.C. its reason to exist, they’d started talking about moving into the country, away from the congested traffic and polluted air of the city. Someplace where the twins could grow up playing on grass, instead of pavement.
