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“Chris Travers. Juliet Victor.”
“Jim Pace. Good to meet you.”
The Asian man stepped up next to his colleague, having already put his gear in the cargo hold. Travers said, “Joe Takahashi, my number two.”
Takahashi extended a hand. “Everybody calls me Hash.”
“My condolences, then,” Pace replied as they shook hands.
“Tell me about it.”
Pace looked back to Travers again. “How much of a briefing did they give you?”
“You’re going to California to speak with people who knew Richard Watt, the DOD guy who got himself killed the other day.”
“That’s right. He’d spent the last few weeks in Silicon Valley, and most of his senior staff is there now. I talked with his replacement yesterday at the Pentagon; it’s time to speak with the grunts in the field.”
Travers said, “From there I hear we might go abroad. You wanted us to come as an escort in case you accidentally kick a hornet’s nest along the way.”
“That’s it. I’m the Agency point man on something nobody quite understands yet. I’m going to be knocking on the doors of a lot of people involved in this thing. If I knock on the wrong door…or the right door, depending on how you look at it…I will need you guys. You copy?”
“I copy,” Travers said. “But I don’t love the fact that we’re leaving our weapons on the aircraft.”
“Watkins’s orders. If you need the weps, they’ll be there on board for you.” Pace added, “I have no reason to think we’re going to get ourselves into any real trouble. Definitely not in Silicon Valley. This might just be a week or two vacation for you guys.”
“We’ll stay ready for action, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Good.”
He turned to head for the jet stairs, and Travers followed behind, but he continued talking.
“They tell me you were a solid operator back in the day.”
Pace turned around and faced the team leader at the foot of the stairs. “Enjoy this time, dude. Someday you’ll wake up and your knees and ankles and back will be yelling at you to stop this nonsense and calm down.”
Travers grinned. “Yeah, maybe so. But for now I just hear all that shit from my mom.”
They boarded, and Takahashi helped the other men haul another load of gear from the minivans to the aircraft.
Inside the cabin, Pace said, “There’s seating for twelve on board, and there’s only seven of us plus the crew, so you should be comfortable enough.”
Travers replied, looking around at the plush accommodations, “You don’t have a staff?”
“I’ve got a staff, but they’ll stay at Langley and work on the problem from there.”
“Well, we spent last night on the floor of a C-130. We’re gonna be just fine in here.”
“I’ve got conference calls and video meetings for the whole flight, so I’ll stay up front at the bulkhead. You and your boys can chill out in back.”
Travers nodded, then said, “Anything you need, Jim. We’re at your service.”
The Challenger 605 took off to the north twenty minutes later, banking west towards California in a clear morning sky.
•••
Martina Sommer’s cubicle in the back row of the auditorium-style office of OC Gama in Singapore was second from the end, and therefore one of the closest to the rear door of the room at the top of the stairs.
A dour-faced security officer stood at the door, facing the room. He was Asian, and he wore a gray suit and stood with his hands clasped in front of his body for almost his entire daily shift.
