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Back The Utopia Experiment Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Title Page
  2. Welcome
  3. Prologue
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. Epilogue
  81. About the Authors
  82. The Covert-One Novels
  83. Newsletters
  84. Copyright

“Our man on the ground has confirmed that they’re all gone, but he didn’t personally witness the transfer.”

“And where did the helicopter go?”

“We weren’t prepared to track an aircraft. I hope to have that information soon.”

“We don’t have the luxury of hoping, Captain. Call Andrews and get surveillance planes in the air.”

“That’s going to be difficult, sir.”

“I don’t care if it’s difficult,” Whitfield said, momentarily losing control of the volume of his voice. “Do whatever you have to do and find that goddamn chopper.”

“Sir, we could expose—”

“No more excuses, Captain! Get those planes in the air.”

Whitfield broke the connection and threw his headset into the wall. This was a complete, unmitigated disaster. If Miller and Craighead were still alive, they’d hold out for a while, but eventually would talk. They wouldn’t know anything more than the fact that they’d been sent to take out two people involved with a homegrown terrorist network, but if the right questions were asked, the carefully crafted anonymity of Whitfield’s Pentagon contacts could begin to show cracks.

How had they defeated his men? Where had the helicopter come from? But most important, who were these bastards?

47

47

Wood County, West Virginia
USA

IS A LITTLE GODDAMN HOT WATER too much to ask?” Smith said, unable to control his mounting frustration as he ran the faucet over his numb hands. The only heat and light in the dilapidated farmhouse came from the flames crackling in a woodstove that looked like it hadn’t been used since the turn of the century.

“Come over by the fire,” Randi said, throwing a threadbare blanket she’d found over his shoulders and pulling him toward the living room. Fred Klein slid a low stool—the only piece of furniture in the house—toward the stove and Smith lowered himself carefully onto it.

“Sorry about the accommodations,” Klein said as Randi knelt and rubbed Smith’s back vigorously, trying to get the blood circulating. “It’s not the Four Seasons, but it’s on its own hundred acres and owned by a fictitious mining company that can’t be traced to us. If you need medical attention we can bring someone in.”

Smith shook his head, fighting off another of the endless waves of nausea that refused to subside. “My body temperature’s coming back up and there’s nothing you can do about the effects of the Merge but wait them out.” He paused. “Thanks for coming for us, Fred. I know the risk you’re taking.”

“I don’t think you have much to thank me for. Too little too late.”