Still Alive Pt. 01

"What's up, Ashley? I saw your lights on. Early morning?" she heard from a man approaching her office.

"Hey, Dozer. Yeah. Couldn't sleep. Someone got in the way of a job, and I had to abort it. What about you?"

The field agents had apt call signs, as did most of their managers. Kris Ritter had earned his by not only being built like an earth mover, but also his ability to sleep anytime and anywhere.

"We just got in from Kolkata yesterday. Wanted to come in early while it's quiet and get the after-action report polished up."

"What took you there?"

"BioFinlandia's CFO was kidnapped for a five-mil ransom. We got her back and managed to stay dry."

"Good job," she said, earning an appreciative nod. "Dozer, how do you think something like this happens?" she said, motioning for him to come to her side of the desk.

"Drone footage? Sweet," the hulk of a man said, pulling up another chair. He twisted her iMac on its mount to examine the display more squarely.

"Watch here," she said, pointing at the corner of the screen.

"It's a car or truck or some other vehicle," he said, seeing the warm glow appear on the road she'd been trying to map.

"That much I know. Keep watching."

"He's stopping. Driver's getting out."

She nodded. "Wait for it."

Another dot appeared and, within seconds, merged with the larger glow.

Ashley turned her attention to Dozer.

"What's the question?"

She pointed with her finger. "What's that?"

"Looks like someone getting into the back of a van or whatever."

"Yeah. But how does he just appear out of nowhere?"

"Because he's a smart guy," he said with an easygoing laugh. "There are ways of masking infrared. Something as inexpensive and simple as a metal-filmed Mylar sheet works great in a pinch."

"Like an emergency thermal blanket?"

Dozer nodded.

"Genius," Martel whispered, watching the dot of light in the video disappear and reappear as she looped it.

"I haven't come across something like that since leaving the Army. Definitely not in the gigs we do here at Wolfram."

"The people who take corporate execs hostage aren't often very smart."

"Or trained in evasion tactics like we were," Dozer added. "Next time we're kitting out or resetting, remind me to give the logistics managers a demo. It's kind of trippy if you've never seen it."

"Yeah. I will," Martel said, still watching the screen.

"Where was this taken?" Dozer asked.

Ashley swapped windows to the Google Earth view. She saved the current settings before she zoomed out.

"I'm surprised he survived."

"Why's that?"

"Can I use your keyboard?" Dozer asked.

She handed it to him. He placed it in his lap and toggled windows to the video player which displayed Zulu time and date. He went back to the browser, opened a new tab, then browsed to weather.com and navigated to the records for one of the nearby cities.

"Yeah. The temps only dropped to eighty degrees there that night."

"I've camped in worse."

"But probably not wrapped in a sheet of aluminized polyester meant to hold heat in. The temperature for whoever that was would have felt like a hundred and five. Maybe more. For hours. What's this big hotspot up there?"

"It's where a 767 carrying the leaders of at least a dozen warring cadres crashed."

"Oh?" he said, apparently not having seen or heard the news. "And you think maybe this guy had something to do with it?"

"Or gal, yeah." She nodded. "If you'd somehow managed to sabotage an airplane, wouldn't you stick around to see the results of your work?"

"Probably."

"That region is so tight-lipped. I mean, news of it broke, but it's very sketchy. No casualty counts, no origin, no names, no way to know if it's referring to this exact incident. It probably is, but someone who wanted to make sure, watched it from afar then got the hell out of Dodge."

"Maybe even in a Dodge."

Ashley nodded.

"One of yours?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Another team?"

"Jeff says there weren't any teams other than mine assigned to the area. Our objective wasn't to take those people out. It was to get eyes on them, get photos of faces, and make identification of the leadership. I decided it'd be more productive to try it when that flight was going to depart. I wouldn't be surprised if my team would have used the very same vantage point this dude was using. He never said it, but I figured the DoD would have a Special Forces unit tag whoever they felt they needed to take out."

"Nope, couldn't work. Even with a thousand-millimeter telescopic lens, this is way too far away to resolve faces. He had to have been a lot closer." He paused, switching the view to show topographic contour lines. He pointed with the mouse. "Look at the terrain. He had to have been at least six klicks closer, probably, like over here.

"No way he could have lugged in that much hardware and then crawled out with it under a heat blanket without offing himself. Even with just a few things, he'd be damned-near death's door by the time he got picked up."

"Huh."

"So, what's your interest now? You said the mission was scrubbed."

"I want to know who the hell that person is."

"You're pissed?" he asked, laughing lightly.

"A little."

"You've got to hand it to him. That dude is badass if he brought down a plane single-handedly."

"Or dudette."

"I swear. If it turns out to be a woman under that blanket, one of our guys would probably want to put a ring on her finger."

"You're a dork, Dozer."

He laughed. "What's next?"

"I think I've narrowed down the road that vehicle was on. The drone never pointed its reference pip directly at it, so I'm trying to do it with geometry and trigonometry. I think …" she said, loading her saved settings, then highlighting a few roads, "it's one of these two."

"Play the video again from the moment the vehicle first shows up."

She did. He watched intently.

"I might be wrong, but I think it's most likely this one." He moused over it on the map.

"Why?"

"See how slow the vehicle is moving? The meet point had to have been prearranged, right? It's too dark for the driver to spot him visually, plus he's hidden under something. The sheets we used in the service aren't shiny on both sides like the cheap ones are. One side is non-reflective with several sorts of camo print which is why they're fifty dollars. Maybe this guy's was similar to ours. The driver is approaching a known point, probably using a GPS, but he's going slow. That suggests the road's condition is crap. This one here is much newer and would allow a faster approach. Plus, your dude … or dudette … would have had to cross the slow road to get to this one. Not wise."

"Good point. Didn't think of that."

"You're smart. You would have," he said, smiling.

"Thanks, Dozer," she said, repositioning her keyboard and mouse where they'd been before.

"Um, Ashley? You hungry? Feel like an early breakfast?"

"I wish I had the time, but Jeff's going to be here in less than two hours, and I need to make sure I get as much of this documented as I can before he tears me a new one."

"Okay," he said, rising from then returning the chair to its original place. "Talk to you later?"

"Sure," she distractedly answered. "Thanks again."

"Any time, Ashley. Always happy to help you," he said before departing, wondering what else he could do to get the woman's attention on anything other than work.

She continued studying the maps, postulating possible origins of the vehicle. She hypothesized that it'd come from no farther than forty miles, assuming, based on the time of day, the driver would try to get the unknown individual indoors before the local dawn. That's how she'd have planned it if a nighttime extraction were being considered.

She listed ten likely locations, in decreasing order of probability, on a Keynote slide along with others containing screenshots and calculations.

"Ashley," called out a familiar voice. "My office, if you don't mind."

She rose and stuck her head out of her office to see Jeff Wesson, the owner and general manager, walking down the broad corridor.

"Need more coffee. I'll be right there," she said, then closed all the open files which she moved to the company's secure file server.

She brewed another mugful of Morning Blend and strode to her employer's large office in the corner of the floor.

"Close the door," he said after she'd stepped through it. She then took a seat across from him at his desk.

"Tell me why I chose the name 'Wolfram' for my business," he began.

"The website says it's because wolfram, another name for tungsten, is one of the toughest metals on the planet."

"Correct. The thing not said is that it's also one of the densest. As dense as uranium and gold, almost twice as dense as lead, and whatever happened on the peninsula sure makes us look like it." He paused, waiting for a rebuttal which didn't come. "Dense. As in stupid ."

"I get it."

"Do you? My company has an image problem now."

"No, sir, I don't believe it does. I don't think General Gonzales will condemn Wolfram over this."

"Oh? He has every right. We blew it. Figuratively, but someone did it literally and right under our noses."

"Calm down for a few minutes, Jeff. I have information which might convince you otherwise."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said, rubbing his temples. "What have you got?"

She awakened her iPad and screen-shared it to the large LCD display on the wall. She connected an app to the file server and brought up an image.

"Please tell me that's not military," Wesson said with wide eyes, immediately recognizing the screenshot taken from the drone footage.

"Gonzales gave it to me. He swore that SecOps didn't feel a need to classify it, so he gave me a copy in case it was useful. One of his men encrypted it behind two passwords, just for good measure, and I've sequestered it in the secure file server."

"Smart, but useful for what?"

"He didn't come right out and say it because I sort of jumped in front of him and told him I wanted to use it to try to figure out who ruined my objective. This was over a quick meet-up at a soup shop in Iwakuni two days ago. Or yesterday. Whatever. I've lost track of time. Will you allow me to track him down?"

The man drummed his fingers on his desktop for several moments. "Yeah. Okay. Sanctioned and approved. What do you need?"

"Seriously? That was fast," Ashley observed, quickly removing her phone from her blazer. "Give me a minute."

She used an app which could make VoIP calls over any network and simultaneously encrypt the call using a time-limited key system synchronized across all of Wolfram's secure systems.

"Gleek," said the man who answered.

"You're on speaker. I'm in Wesson's office."

"Understood. What's up, Burner?" he said, using Ashley's call sign.

"Where are you and the team? Exactly where?"

"We're about to arrive at the secure freight forwarder to drop off our crates. We've got a flight back to the States which leaves in three hours bringing six people home without the bonuses we were looking forward to."

"Sorry. You're going to miss the flight."

She heard the man groan. "What are you saying, Burner?"

"I'm re-tasking you. I need you all to stay put. I'll bump your per diem by twenty percent and Apple Pay each of you a few hundred bucks to make the delay more … palatable."

Ashley saw Wesson's jaw visibly clench, and he moved to speak. She held up a finger, and, thankfully, he didn't countermand her.

"That's why you're the best boss ever." Gleek literally sang the words. He was branded with his call sign when it was discovered he'd sung in his university glee club and had an incredible tenor voice which he would employ with significant talent on occasion. It was also a reversal of his true name, Grady Keel.

"I don't sign the paychecks. Jeff does."

"Yet he's been quiet this whole time."

Ashley glanced at the owner with arched eyebrows.

"Do what she says," said Wesson. "Incentives are back on the table."

"Bingo, boss. Bye, Burner."

Ashley's phone beeped, indicating the call had disconnected.

"You're a complete pill," Wesson said.

"Then why do you still employ me?"

"Because you have the best outcomes of anyone here. Most times."

"Thank you, Jeff," she said, genuinely appreciating his praise, not gloating on it. "How much will you pre-auth?"

"You tell me. What do you think you need?"

"Thirty thousand. To start."

He clicked and tapped his mouse and keyboard. "Done. Same file. If it all works out, Gonzales might be willing to foot the bill."

Ashley was genuinely perplexed by the notion. "Why would he?"

"Don't know. Just a hunch."

Ashley had followed Wesson's sixth sense to good ends several times.

"Now that we've talked, your PTO request is approved," Wesson said. "Go home and get some rest."

"No friggin' way. I'm getting a second wind."

"That's mild sauce."

"Because you're polite company," she said with a wink and a smile as she rose to leave.

"Be careful, Martel. Something just … something isn't sitting right."

"Can you be more specific? Your hunches often pan out."

"Not sure. I'm thinking this is going to land close for some reason."

"One-of-our-own close?"

He shook his head. "No. For all I know, the person you're chasing might be an operative of one of those cadres. Hell of a score knocking more than a dozen of the competition off the playing field."

Martel considered the possibility. It adjusted the par for the course.

"Huh. I'll keep that in mind," she said, opening the door.

She returned to her desk in her smaller but still spacious office where she made good on her promise by sending virtual cash to the deployed team. She then collected information from the map she and Dozer had been studying. She opened an app on her iMac to send a message to Gleek.

I need your team to scope some land and see if you find anything suggesting a person has been in or around the area in the last three days. Might be best to keep numbers to a minimum because I don't know what'll happen if you're spotted. I also think it needs to be done in daylight, so be careful.

What are you expecting us to find?

Not sure.

I said you're the best boss ever. Starting to rethink.

Sorry not sorry. With the extra funds I've sent you, the team can party hardy.

That's difficult to do in this part of the world.

She sent four latitude/longitude coordinates inscribing a quadrangle of land adjacent to the airfield. There was a long pause.

Damn, Burner. This is almost three square klicks. It's going to take a day or two.

I'm sure you'll figure it out.

Always do. We'll 'borrow' a few goats and dress like local herders. Easy cover. It's going to get dark soon. We'll deploy at first light so booze-hounding will have to wait.

Goats? Ever a borrower or a lender be?

Nice misquote of Shakespeare to make a point.

Martel flipped her empty trash bin upside down and propped her feet atop its base as she reclined in her seat, studying a screenful of data. After several hours at the task, she caught herself nodding off. She checked the display on her phone which told her it was nearing noon.

She unlocked her iMac to save and close everything she'd been working on and began her drive home. Before she took a cold shower to try to reinvigorate herself, she set an alarm for 3:00 PM because she doubted the water's long-term effectiveness.

She was startled when it awakened her from an unintended nap. She refused her urges to snooze the alarm. Instead, she prepared her favorite breakfast, even though it was nearing evening. After eating it, she decided to add physical fatigue on top of her circadian nadir by jogging a five-mile circuit she'd run dozens upon dozens of times.

She managed to keep herself busy until after dinner. The warmth in her satisfied tummy made her eyes heavy when it was only eight o'clock that evening.

"I guess it's better than two o'clock like yesterday," she said to herself before settling into her bed.

JONATO Base, Doha, Qatar
Thursday, July 23, 2015, 8:00 AM

Wright knocked on his commanding officer's doorjamb and stood at attention.

"Major!" Colonel Richard Bragg said, turning in his seat. "As you were. How was your leave?"

"Satisfying as always. Miss anything while I was gone?"

"Not at all. It's been a routine ten days. What kept you busy?"

"Oh, you know, run-of-the-mill stuff."

"How do you manage it? You don't even own a car," asked Bragg.

"Well, mass transit is still a thing, even though the infighting cadres can make it a bit …"

"Unsafe?" the colonel suggested after Wright's pause.

"Sometimes. But, as long as I keep my head down, things usually work out."

"If you say so. I still wonder how much longer our presence here is going to continue. NATO's estimate has already been exceeded by two years, and the scuttlebutt is the DoD is getting impatient and may pull out of the agreement, especially because we're stationed in a non-NATO ally country."

Wright shrugged.

"Until they make up their minds, we still have work to do," the colonel said.

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Carry on."

"You sound like the COs on old TV shows like JAG ."

"Don't mock the canon," Bragg said after a chuckle. "Should I have told you to haul your ass out of my office and get busy?'"

"That works," Mark answered, laughing. As ordered, Major Wright returned to work.

Washington, DC
Saturday, July 25, 2015, 8:30 AM EDT

Ashley Martel's circadian rhythm had settled into normalcy by the third day after her return from Japan. She would often work weekends if she had a team in the field. Since hers was only scouring a pasture, she decided it wasn't necessary. Her brownstone hadn't been occupied for weeks, so she planned for a day of light cleaning and tending to piles of laundry.

Her phone vibrated on the countertop. She tapped its display and unlocked it.

We found nothing, a secure message read.

Nothing?

We've been searching for two full days. Nothing. Not even a cat hole.

?

A litter box. A shit pit. If it's not buried, it's called a lumpadump.

Gross.

Gotta do what we gotta do when we gotta dookie.

Ashley groaned and rolled her eyes.

I get it, but what does that suggest?

Based on the info you gave me, someone had to have been here more than 24 hours maybe 36 and your guy was phenomenally good at covering or holding his shats. Whoever was out here didn't leave a single trace. The goats we borrowed haven't homed in on anything either.

Get them back home.

The goats, or the team?

Both. Goats first. I'm beginning to sense the same thing our boss is feeling. Something isn't right.

K, Burner. Don't keep us in the dark.

Ashley expedited her morning routine and eschewed breakfast at home, abandoned her plans, and decided to head into the office in Crystal City.

Arlington, VA
Saturday, July 25, 2015, 9:30 AM EDT

Pleasantries with the security guard were exchanged when she entered the parking structure thirty minutes later, and, in five more, she was powering on her iMac and settling in to explore yet another theory. She opened up the deck of virtual sticky-notes she'd been organizing in Wolfram's collaborative tools suite, and settled in.

She worked for hours, trying to scratch the itch of something niggling in the back of her mind. She wolfed down the lunch she bought from a food truck on the corner, then dove into work again, exploring a fresh angle.