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Measure of Danger
Measure of Danger Read online
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2015 Jay Klages
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477830673
ISBN-10: 1477830677
Cover design by Cyanotype Book Architects
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014959845
To Elly and Emma, my light.
And Kade.
CONTENTS
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
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
Friday, April 12
3:43 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time (EDT)
Apartment #436, Molly Pitcher Village
Herndon, Virginia
His latest Friday after-work routine of staying in had kept him out of trouble, and that was great. But his growing tendency not to do things bothered him, because in his gut he knew there was no courage in safety.
Kinkade Sims, or Kade, as he was called, sat on the microsuede couch with a bottle of Corona in hand, his dark, green-hazel eyes focused on the old FutureWeapons episode playing on the wall TV while his mind toggled between the show and his army memories.
The narrating host, Mack Machowicz, wearing jeans, T-shirt, protective vest, and helmet, leaned forward against the sandbag wall, pressing his eye to the optical sight of the shoulder-launched multipurpose assault weapon, or SMAW. When he squeezed the trigger, the thermobaric rocket blasted out of its wide olive-green launch tube, traveled about forty yards, and punched through the exterior of the test building. As the white-orange fireball exploded out through the windows of the structure, cinder blocks separated and crumbled, roof pieces shot fifty feet into the air, and the doorbell to Kade’s apartment rang. The ringing was followed by several firm knocks on the door.
Kade hit pause on the remote, set down his beer, and peeled his body off the couch. When he opened the door, a pudgy man with thinning blond hair and eager brown eyes was standing there. The guy looked like he was in his midforties and wore a navy sport coat, white oxford shirt, and red tie.
“Kade, how are you? I’m Special Agent Rob Morris.” He held up his FBI badge and photo credentials.
Kade started breathing again as they shook hands. There probably wasn’t any reason to worry.
“Hello, Agent Morris. How can I help you?”
“Can I come in and speak to you alone, please?”
“Yeah.”
As Kade led Morris inside, he became self-conscious about his appearance. The beard he’d grown in the last few months along with his scraggy shoulder-length black hair made him look about thirty when he was twenty-five. He’d added at least twenty pounds of bad weight on his six-foot-four frame. He was wearing only a pair of cutoff sweatpants, so he slid on the frayed T-shirt he’d tossed on the nearby bar stool earlier.
“Let me give my roommate a heads-up.” He walked over to Alex’s bedroom and saw he was still at his desk on his iPad, brown hair shoved under a bandana. The big LED countdown clock on the wall said twelve minutes until the Wall Street closing bell.
“Hey, I’ve got an FBI agent here who needs to talk to me alone.”
Alex rubbed his chin puff beard and stared at him for a second. “You okay, man?” he whispered.
“Yeah, I think so, thanks.”
“All right, call me if you need to.” Alex mouthed a few more silent words while he stood and gathered the computer cord.
As Morris took off his coat and laid it on the back of the couch, Kade walked over and scooped up the grease-stained pizza box lying open on the coffee table. He snagged the four empty Coronas in his other hand and moved the trash over to the kitchen.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said.
“Sorry for my surprise visit. What’s this from?”
Morris was pointing at one of the pictures on the wall behind the couch. It showed Kade standing with a small work crew in yellow hard hats, next to a young double amputee in a wheelchair and her daughter. Behind the group was the framing of a new house.
“Oh, that was a couple of years ago in Georgia. Some veteran outreach.”
“That’s great.”
Morris sat down and took a yellow notepad and a pen out of his leather flip-over briefcase. He glanced up at the wobbly ceiling fan. “Can I get your cell phone number?”
Kade rattled off the number and drained a glass of water to keep his stomach in check. The warm room and musty smell wasn’t helping his cause. Nothing he could do about it, because the AC was getting its ass kicked by the record heat outside.
Morris looked like a seasoned agent. What could this be about?
He refilled his glass and sat next to Morris on the opposite end of the couch, tapping his foot on the carpet. Morris’s khaki dress pants were well creased and his square-toed black leathers had a decent shine.
“What’s your roommate’s name?” Morris asked.
“Alex . . . Alex Pace.”
Morris wrote the name down while Alex scooted by with his backpack and waved.
“Thanks, man,” Kade said. “Talk to you later.”
When the door shut, there was an uncomfortable silence. He guessed this visit might take a while, whatever it was for. Should he offer Morris something to drink? No, better just stay
put and listen for now.
“How long have you known Alex?” Morris asked.
“Since first grade.”
“No kidding. Where did you go to school?”
“Worcester, Massachusetts.”
“You two live here alone?”
“Yeah. He moved in here about a year ago.”
“Both single?”
“Yeah.”
“Any significant others?”
“Alex, kind of. Me, not any longer.”
“Have you been working?”
“Yeah, I work at Home Depot.”
“And how’s that going?”
Kade shrugged. “All right. It’s fun helping people out with projects.”
“A big change from the army.”
He knows my background.
“Yeah, I felt like I needed a break after leaving the service. It’s pretty low stress.”
Morris nodded and set down his pen. “Well, Kade, let me cut to the chase of why I’m here. We’ve identified you as a candidate who could assist us with a project we’re working on. So we don’t waste each other’s time, I need to know if you’re interested in learning more and if you think you’re at a place in your life where this would make sense. It’s temporary, but full-time work—about a two-to-three-month commitment—and it would be physically and mentally demanding. It would be high stress.”
Wow. What kind of assistance could he possibly provide the FBI? Some kind of freelance opportunity? The months since his final army assignment as an intelligence analyst felt like years.
I guess it can’t hurt to find out more.
“Sure, I’m interested.”
“Okay.” Morris glanced at his notes. “I understand after your assignment at the National Counterterrorism Center and return to your home unit, you had a mental health referral and a hypomania diagnosis. Your top secret clearance was pulled, and you were then separated with an honorable discharge. Do I have that right?”
Kade felt the skin on the back of his neck grow warmer and his stomach lurch. He wasn’t expecting to hear about the end of his former career from an FBI agent today. In his role at the National Counterterrorism Center, or NCTC, he had interacted with all of the military services and national agencies, including the FBI, and had earned a good reputation. Maybe his NCTC work was the connection to Morris?
“Uh, yeah. There’s more to it than that, but you’re correct.”
Morris nodded. “I figured there was more to it after doing my own research. Senior officers who worked with you at NCTC say you did an excellent job and your ethics were never in question. Your peers loved working with you and you’re greatly missed. You just seemed to run into recurring problems off duty.”
Kade took a large gulp of water. Great, Morris was digging into his background and asking people about his performance. Well, at least the feedback was encouraging. Since his separation, he had made peace with the hypomania disorder, and he would put that on display right now. He wouldn’t let Morris’s comments get him worked up.
“You’re right,” he said. “I got in trouble off duty back then and learned a very hard lesson from it. The disorder just caught up with me. When I was growing up, I was told I was hyperactive with ADD, and that turned out to be wrong. All those years I just thought I’d managed to work around it.”
“It obviously didn’t affect your performance. Your army experience and achievements at MIT are impressive.”
“Thanks. I still dispute my discharge from the army for that diagnosis. The physician I’m seeing reviewed my records and thinks my separation was a real stretch. It’s a mild case, and very manageable. But the army never gave me a chance to prove it.”
“Kade, the good news is I wouldn’t be here if I thought this was something you couldn’t work through.”
“Great.”
Morris smiled again and snapped a business card down on the table.
“I’m from the FBI field office in Portland, Oregon. I’ve been in DC this week for some information exchange with our counterterrorism division about an urgent matter of national security, and it was during this discussion your name came to my attention.”
“Really?”
“Yes, you happen to have a particular talent we’re interested in. Do you remember when you volunteered for a program to test a new infrared lie-detection program during your time at NCTC?”
Kade scrunched his face. This is random. About a month into the NCTC job, he was asked to participate in a brief Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) study. DARPA funded some of the most forward-leaping technology prototypes in the world, from guided sniper bullets to robotic cheetahs.
“Yeah, I got an extra thousand bucks for testing on that IR device. That was a good day for a lieutenant.”
Morris smiled. “That’s right. And that technology is proving to be very accurate in trials with newer models. But you are the only person on record—in any trial—who gave the machine a big problem. You produced one hundred percent false positives, meaning the device said you lied on every question, even though you only lied on the questions you were told to lie on.”
That’s weird. “Why is that?”
“It’s not clear. The internal notes on the study were inconclusive. We recently had an independent expert review the results again, and he connected us with you. He theorizes your hypomania condition and maybe your personality make it impossible for the machine to establish the right activity for control questions. There’s a small region of the brain called the caudate that’s active when a person’s lying—the oxygen in the blood increases and lights up the IR detector. But your caudate seems to be very active all of the time.”
“Huh. So on the test, when I had a red card in my hand”—Kade held up his hand, remembering how the test had worked—“and they asked me if I was holding the red card, and I answered yes—the machine still said I was lying?”
Morris nodded. “Red card, blue card—it didn’t matter. According to the machine, every response you gave was a lie. You were even lying about your name and date of birth.”
“Okay, but how is that good for anything?”
Morris rubbed the palm of one hand over the fist of the other.
“Great question. And this is where I need to pause. Kade, I believe this ability of yours, combined with your other skills, could help us in a sensitive national security operation. You seem fit enough to be a candidate, and your overall record is strong. But I can’t disclose any more details unless I know you’re willing to participate.”
Okay, he was intrigued by the offer and the revelation of this odd talent, even though he didn’t understand how it could be useful. He’d become noncommittal in recent months, even turning down some other job referrals, but this was different. Physically and mentally demanding sounded attractive in the FBI context. He had enjoyed the rigor and lifestyle of his army assignments. When the body and mind were working toward the same goal, and there was teamwork and commitment, there was nothing like the energy it created.
Yeah, he had burned out in his final months of the army, but maybe he just needed a new fuse.
“Wow, this is still sinking in. I think I could be up for it.”
“Unfortunately, I’m going to need a more definitive answer than that to proceed.”
“How long do I have to decide?”
“You have to decide right now if you’re in, because we start our prep phase on Monday. And if you aren’t in, I need to find another route.”
Kade felt his upper lip starting to sweat, but Morris’s glistening forehead was already well ahead of him. This looked like an enthusiastic recruitment attempt, not a sales job. He cracked a smile.
“You know, I’m supposed to be careful with impulsive decisions and thrill-seeking behavior, and this isn’t helping.”
That made Morris laugh. “Kade, I want you to make a good decision, one that’s right for you.”
“And you can’t tell me more about this operation now?”
Kade nodded and then sat silent, looking at the floor and mulling it over while Morris continued talking.
“Think about why you joined the service and the positive impact you made. Your country needs your help now, and I believe you can have that kind of impact again.”
Kade tried to break it down. Even if he set aside the potential excitement of this operation, something else resonated in what Morris said. He missed his army comrades and could never get that back. He loved his family and friends now more than anything. But there was something greater out there still. Something he thought was lost for good after the army had said, “Good-bye, sorry, we don’t need you anymore.”
My country needs my help now, and I can do something about it.
I can still make a difference.
Now it made sense why Morris had to poke around so much.
He’s building some kind of team and wants me to be on it.
“So you’re, in effect, ignoring the army’s diagnosis with this offer.”
“Yes. We would still need sign-off from your physician and for you to pass a drug test.”
Kade nodded. He was getting another chance.
This opportunity will never come around again.
Morris kept going. “Kade, you can’t turn back the clock now, but you can—”
“I’ll do it. Yeah.”
“Okay. Very good.”
Kade raised his eyebrows. “Will I still be able to pay my share of the rent?”
“Yes, you sure will.”
“Okay. So what’s the mission?”
“Not here,” Morris said. “With the verbal commitment you’ve given me, I’ll set up a meeting for Monday morning and we’ll do the legal documentation and initial discussion of the operation to get us started. Please keep our conversation here confidential.”
“All right.”
“Great. I’m very happy to have you on board, Kade.”
“Thanks, I’m excited.”
When he shook Morris’s hand again, a surge of adrenaline seemed to snap him out of what he now saw had been an extended funk. Somehow he’d been ready for this moment.
I’m going to be part of an FBI operation.
Morris stood and grabbed his sport coat.
“I’ll call you over the weekend with the meeting location, and I’ll see you on Monday.”
Measure of Danger