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He glanced out the window. The morning was new and clear, and he found himself staring down at the beauty of the Rockies. Just seeing them brought back vivid memories of the Swiss Alps, the formation of the Zermatt Group, and the events leading up to the coalition that had taken on a life of its own.
It started five years ago in the small Swiss town of Zermatt. Three amazing professionals from Aidan’s previous life—Terri, Simone, and former MI6 agent Philip Banks—had arrived at the mountain resort at Aidan’s invitation. Over wine and raclette, they came together as a loosely formed group and adopted their meeting location as a nom de guerre: The Zermatt Group.
Aidan had met each of them during his overseas military career in communications and intelligence. They had worked together on different projects, under the auspices of different organizations and governments. Aidan had selected them for the unique talent they brought to the table—leadership, information technology skills, investigative abilities, even the assessment of human personalities and capabilities. But most important was each team member’s strong network of contacts and innate skill at recruiting others to serve as a secondary circle of operatives.
With the same respect that he’d shown in naming Zermatt’s AI system, Aidan had modeled the group after the actions of his own childhood hero, World War II intelligence leader “Wild Bill” Donovan. Donovan’s outgoing personality and business skills afforded him access to key European leaders in both industry and government. His skill in recruiting others to help him, both domestically and internationally, made him the ultimate master spy and the founder of the OSS, the precursor of the modern-day CIA. Aidan had been fascinated with Donovan. It was that fascination that led him to enter military service, become a Marine, and choose a specialty in communications and intelligence that allowed him, like Donovan, to travel the world, working with many talented people on difficult missions.
Over the past decade, Aidan’s international exposure had afforded him a unique view of global geopolitics and business. And it had turned his stomach. The world was taking an alarming direction. With the lines blurring between legal and illegal, moral and immoral, the Zermatt Group would be there to remind the transgressors that they had gone too far.
Utilizing his Marine training and Donovan’s intelligence methods, Aidan had founded the Zermatt Group like a special ops military strike force, with himself, Terri, Simone, and Philip—who served as the group’s lead on-the-ground investigator—as a force multiplier to help the good guys, above or below their radars. They relied upon the respective networks of contacts they’d cultivated over the years.
The Zermatt Group members lived and worked in their local communities. Their jobs and business contacts gave them critical access to people, technology and financial assets. That allowed them to operate in the shadows. Terri made sure of it.
That’s how it started, and that’s how it had stayed.
And now, the Pennington kidnapping and industrial blackmail crisis loomed over them, begging for a swift resolution without sacrificing Lauren’s life in the process.
* * *
Aidan picked up his rental car and drove the fifty minutes from San Francisco to Silicon Valley, and directly to Santa Clara. It might be a Saturday, but it was no surprise that Vance Pennington was at work. Like Aidan’s, Pennington’s job required a seven-days-a-week, twenty-four-hours-a-day commitment.
Pulling around the bend, Aidan drove up the private road that led to NanoUSA. At first glance, he thought he was at a top-secret military base rather than a corporate headquarters. The entire building complex looked as if it were on lockdown.
He was stopped at the main checkpoint, where, as a visitor, he was required to leave his vehicle, plus just about everything else. All his personal belongings, including electronic communication devices, were placed in a steel box and locked away for safekeeping. He had to submit to a body scanner, which could check for any hidden weapons or embedded devices—swallowed, implanted, or otherwise.
The security procedures were similar to those Aidan had experienced at FBI Headquarters, only heightened to the nth degree.
When he’d stepped into the security office, he could see that his cell signal died instantly. So the windowless building was lead-lined, blocking any and all signals from entering or leaving.
These people were definitely serious about keeping their secrets secret.
Aidan was transported in a company vehicle from security to the main building and reception area. Since it was Saturday, a security guard was on duty, instead of a receptionist. Aidan gave him his name, and the security guard called Vance to tell him that his visitor had arrived. The security guard attached a Bluetooth bracelet to Aidan’s wrist and told him to make sure he was always with his escort. The bracelet would keep track of his physical whereabouts at all times, and any attempts to leave authorized areas or to tamper with the device would be immediately detected and dealt with harshly.
A second guard arrived, advising Aidan to accompany him up to Mr. Pennington’s office.
They rode up to the tenth fl
oor and exited, walking past frosted glass walls to the rear corner office that flourished a brass plate with the name Vance Pennington, Vice-President on it.
The guard knocked. “Mr. Pennington? Mr. Devereaux is here to see you.”
“Come in,” came the reply.
The guard pushed the door open and gestured for Aidan to enter. Then he quickly made his retreat, shutting the door behind him.
Glancing around, Aidan crossed over the threshold and onto the thick pile of cream carpeting. The office had classic mahogany furniture, plush leather sofa and chairs, and an expansive, horse-shoe-shaped desk. It was a good thing that the place was so huge and well-appointed, since there wasn’t a single window to look out of or to make you feel connected with the outside world. In short, it was a luxury coffin. Given the number of hours Vance Pennington worked, if this office were anything less than it was, he might succumb to claustrophobia.
Aidan’s gaze quickly scanned the few personal items on Pennington’s desk. Photos of his family. An expensive fountain pen and ink well. And on the wall behind him, a framed US Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal.
Not a surprise. Terri’s intel had told him as much, just as John’s information had informed him that Robert Maxwell hired patriots. But the fact that Pennington had served in Aidan’s own division of the military was a nice bonus. It might be a bonding mechanism that would swing the pendulum in Aidan’s favor.
“Mr. Devereaux.” Vance Pennington rose from behind his desk, reaching across to shake Aidan’s hand. Saturday or not, he was wearing an expensive suit and tie, as if it were a weekday.
Then again, so was Aidan.
“Please.” Vance gestured at one of the buttery-soft leather chairs across from him. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Aidan sank down into the chair. “And I’m not big on the formalities. It’s Aidan.”
