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Once more Reaper found herself in the President’s presence, this time accompanied by Roger Muzik. Besides the two ubiquitous Secret Service agents, there was one more person in attendance in the Oval Office.
“No plausible deniability this time, sir?” Reaper asked as she shook McKenna’s hand.
He replied, “This isn’t the cold war, Jill. Neither the first nor second. As soon as the op is finished, we will be announcing it to the world.” McKenna turned to clasp hands with Muzik, then waved them to seats.
“Announcing success, I hope,” Muzik remarked.
“Yes,” McKenna agreed. “But if you fail, we have backup plans. Messy ones, involving direct military action, but it can’t be helped. No matter what the news says, Russia has been taken in a coup by inimical outside forces. It has to be restored to some semblance of a nation of laws. The entire world must be united against the Meme. There is just no room for separate agendas.”
“Sounds a bit like authoritarianism, sir,” Reaper said sourly. “I had about enough of that in Camp 240, thank you very much.”
“Water under the bridge,” McKenna snapped. “We are back in a World War Two situation, fighting for survival. We will have to compromise some principles to get the job done. If you can’t do that, let me know right now.”
Reaper kept her teeth shut and looked away rather than challenge him any further. She had to admit to herself that he was probably right, and she was glad she did not have to make those hard decisions. It’s always easier to gripe and sharpshoot, she thought, and pushed her feelings aside. “Sorry, sir. I understand. I’m in.”
“Good, good.” He slapped his knee, then gestured at the frozen-faced woman in the stylish pantsuit sitting in the fourth chair. “This is Director Caffey out of Langley. You’ll be working for her until you return for your debriefing.”
Muzik moved first, standing to shake hands with the head of the CIA. Her visage might have thawed just a trifle as he gave her his most heart-melting smile. Reaper had never seen him fail at that. His face seemed to have the same effect on straight women that a double handful of cleavage had on equivalent men. Still, she was impressed at the director’s evident self-control.
“Mister Muzik.” She reached over to Reaper. “Miz Repeth.”
“Misses,” Reaper corrected her, holding up the ring on her left hand.
Muzik subtly rubbed his empty ring finger, flicking a glance at Caffey, who suddenly seemed distracted, blushing faintly.
Well done, Roger.
“Ahem, yes.” The woman opened a case file and began to spread it on the table. “You may consider this your initial mission overview. Your job will be to go in and retrieve or destroy the main database for the Shadow program. This will set them back several years, we hope, and buy the president time to work on a political solution.”
“Just buy time?” Reaper sat back in her chair, crossing her arms uneasily. “We’re risking our lives for a temporary solution?”
“Sometimes that’s all we can hope for,” McKenna intervened. “This is a multifaceted problem. Shadow cyborgs are in direct physical control of all the key ministers, and Winthrop controls them. More importantly, all the officials have been addicted to nanocrack.”
“How do we deal with that?” Reaper asked.
“We’ll be releasing a complete package on how to cure the addiction using drugs and dialysis machines most hospitals will have available.”
“That sounds promising...”
Caffey held up a hand. “Even if they could overcome those problems, the families are at risk. Short of a full-scale invasion, which is not an option because of the Russian nuclear arsenal, we are not going to reverse this coup.”
“Does that mean someone else is?” Reaper asked sharply.
“That’s not a question I can answer,” the director replied, glancing at the President.
“Uh-huh,” Reaper said archly, drumming her fingers on the arm of her seat. That’s a yes if I ever heard one...unless that’s merely what they want us to think.
“But then, what good is destroying the data?” Muzik asked, either not noticing the byplay or choosing to move past it.
Caffey replied, “It will freeze the program’s development. If we are lucky, it will also prevent the manufacture of more cyborgs. Without the detailed 3D-printer files, for example, they will be unable to manufacture the parts. In today’s lab, the data is the key.”
Reaper drummed her fingers on the armrest some more, then forced herself to stop before she poked holes in the leather. “No silver bullets.”
“Not this time.” McKenna covered her restless hand in his. “I know this is a shitty assignment, but we’re in a box here. We can’t just let them turn a great power nation into their own private preserve, but we can’t go in heavy either. Not as we’re Russia’s longtime opponent through two Cold Wars. The people won’t accept us.”
Caffey continued, glancing at Muzik, “Your op will not be the only one. Others will hit certain specified targets, all with the aim of plausible deniability – ours and theirs.”
“Theirs?” Muzik put on his best movie-star smile.
“Yes,” she went on as if mesmerized. “The Russians can’t publically admit to being attacked. It will cause unrest and more scrutiny, as well as making them look weak. They also can’t afford to accuse anyone, for fear of bringing the conflict into the open. At some level even they understand that they can’t rock the boat too hard, not with that damned alien ship on its way.”
“All right,” Reaper sighed. “Let’s see the details.”
