“We’ll do our best,” Blancanales said.
“As always,” Schwarz added.
After they disconnected, Lyons tendered a grunt.
“What is it?” Blancanales asked.
“Just something really odd about it all.”
“You think the Farm’s right about a connection between Dratshev’s disappearance and this assault on the NSA data vault?” Schwarz asked.
“I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand,” Lyons replied. “They’re usually right about those kinds of things. I wish we could take a more direct approach, though. Seems more and more that we’re being forced to fight bureaucratic red tape in our missions.”
Blancanales chuckled as he met Schwarz’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sounds like Ironman’s got a bit of nostalgia for the good old days.”
“Can you blame him?” Schwarz replied. “He makes a good point, actually. Used to be we could go in, kick ass and take names. Now we have to walk on eggshells just to keep our cover.”
“Exactly,” Lyons agreed.
“Look at it this way, Ironman,” Blancanales said. “Those are opportunities to build your skills in normal social interaction.”
“I have skills,” Lyons rumbled. “Aim and squeeze the trigger. Playing nice-nice wasn’t anywhere in my job description.”
“Well, guess we have to adopt the maxim that the only easy day was yesterday.”
“Yeah,” the Able Team leader replied. “But that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”
Rural Iowa
A foul mood came over Special Agent in Charge Robert Higgs as he stared at the half-dozen bodies strewed across the grassy field of the USDA research facility. Higgs had been on a lot of crime scenes but this one had to be the most unusual.
A paramilitary team breaks into a supposed USDA site, engages in a gun battle with a security force armed more like commandos than federal rent-a-cops, and a bunch of people get killed. Higgs derived some comfort at the thought there were no innocent bystanders or civilians numbered among the casualties—that was the only thing about this that didn’t set his gut on fire.
Higgs was a teetotaler by any standards, but right at that moment he could’ve used a stiff belt of something stronger than the lukewarm coffee in the paper cup. He downed the remainder and then turned to look at one of his men who stood nearby holding an electronic clipboard.
“So what’s the verdict?”
Nick Winger sighed before replying. “Total of nine casualties—seven of them fatal and two with serious injuries. We got six bodies out here and one more inside the main building.”
“And the two injured were from the grenade?”
Winger nodded.
Higgs shook his head. “What a mess. And we don’t have a clue yet why this even happened.”
“You’ll get to the bottom of it, Bob.”
“You got more faith in my abilities than I do, Nick.”
“Yes, sir, maybe I do.”
“It’s interesting the team from the NSA didn’t have much to say.”
“What can they say? They’re a bunch of computer geeks. Special detachment specialized in recovering data from systems damaged by disasters.”
“Yeah, we both know that’s bullshit,” Higgs replied. “I’ve worked with those guys before. They’re actually specialized in recovering data for natural disasters—things such as floods and tornados and fires—not bombs and grenades and bullets.”
“Well, I suppose the applications are similar in nature.”
“We’ll see.” Higgs sucked air through his teeth. “Ask me, I think they’re a scrub team. I think this place did a little more than just agricultural research.”
“If it did, they’re not going to tell us,” Winger pointed out.
“Excuse me, sir,” another agent said. He approached with three men who were dressed in suits, ties and sunglasses.
More government types, Higgs thought, but he said, “What is it, Mackenzie?”
“These guys just arrived from BATFE. They asked to speak to you.” Mackenzie paused and then more quietly added, “They asked for you by name.”
Higgs scanned the grim faces of the three men and then nodded at Mackenzie. “I’ll take it from here.”
The fit blond one of the group said, “You’re Higgs? Name’s Carl Irons.”
Higgs shook the hand offered him. Irons had a strong, firm grip and there was something special about the way he carried himself. In fact, all three of them moved and acted with confident authority, and Higgs surmised almost immediately they weren’t who they claimed they were, despite what they claimed.
“What’s your interest here?”
“Some place we can talk private?”
Higgs looked at Winger and nodded. The man glanced at the three newcomers and then turned and departed without saying a word.
“Okay, what’s up?”
* * *
WHEN LYONS FINISHED giving Higgs the cover story about their interest in the guns that were used, the FBI agent spent a long time staring at him.
Finally he said, “You don’t actually expect me to believe that story.”
“Frankly, I don’t care if you believe it or not,” Lyons said with a scowl.
“Uh…look, Higgs,” Blancanales said easily, stepping forward to avert a pissing contest. “We’re not interested in jumping on your case or even taking credit. You have to admit—” Blancanales waved in the direction of the carnage “—that this is an awful lot to handle. If you’d just let us inspect the weapons that were used, we’d be able to trace them a lot faster than your labs probably could.”
“The FBI might even have turned to our people anyway for that support,” Schwarz added with a shrug. “So there’s really no reason for you not to cooperate with us.”
Higgs shook his head, keeping one eye on Lyons. “I’m more than happy to show a little interagency cooperation. But the fact is I expect honesty out of anyone I deal with. In other words, no bullshit and no cockamamie stories like the NSA data-recovery geeks who showed up on a whim—very similar to the way you boys did—with some fish tale about specializing in disaster scenarios.”
“Just what is it you’re trying to get at?” Blancanales asked.
Higgs couldn’t seem to help but tender a snort of derision. “Okay, let me be more direct since I’m asking the same courtesy from you guys. First, BATFE agents don’t typically operate in threes. They’d send a single field agent and maybe a backup man. That’s SOP for them, just as it is for us. Second, I’ve worked with plenty of BATFE agents before. You guys don’t move like them, talk like them or act like them. You’re professionals, although professional whats I’m not yet sure. My guess is troubleshooters, maybe CIA or NSA, but that’s less likely than maybe DHS. Maybe you’re on a page that’s not even in the official playbook.”
Blancanales couldn’t refrain from flashing