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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

Smith finally turned away from the fire. His hands were thawing to the point that numbness was giving way to pain. “Am I the only one here who thinks it sounds a lot like you’re describing yourself? Whitfield sounds like your mirror image. Some kind of evil counterpart.”

Klein considered that for a moment. “Counterpart? Possibly. Evil? I’m not sure. There’s nothing I know of in his background to suggest he’s anything but an incredibly patriotic and competent former soldier.”

“It’s a hazy line, isn’t it?” Smith said. “Doing what you believe is right without any real authority. Killing people from the edges of democracy…”

“We save lives,” Randi said, sounding a little indignant.

“Maybe he does, too,” Smith responded. “Maybe he sees the importance of the Merge to our soldiers and thinks we’re poking our noses into places that could jeopardize that.”

“At this point, his motivations are irrelevant,” Klein said. “What we know is that the man is smart, motivated, and well connected. Your transfers didn’t work only because Whitfield had no way of knowing about my involvement—”

“And we aren’t dead because I’m one of the only people who really understands the control and command structure of the Merge’s military operating system.” Smith thumbed toward Randi, who was adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. “And of course because of the paranoia level of certain CIA operatives.”

“Miscalculations I myself might have made,” Klein admitted. “But I wouldn’t make them again. And neither will he.”

“Can we get him off our backs?” Randi said.

“I honestly don’t know. It’s a dangerous fight for us to get into.”

“Particularly in light of the glass house we live in,” Smith said.

“Exactly. Going toe-to-toe with Whitfield could shine a very bright light into places that need to stay dark.”

“And where does that leave us?” Randi said.

“Our primary concern is the proliferation of the military version of the Merge. We need to understand how those Afghans got those head studs and what they were doing with them. Secondarily, we need to look into the behavioral issues that you’re concerned about and the possibility that the Merge has capabilities we’re not aware of or that it can be subverted in ways we don’t understand.”

“But what’s Whitfield’s angle?” Randi said.

“If I had to bet money, I’d say that he somehow got early access to the military units and what happened in Afghanistan was some kind of pre-release test.”

“Maybe,” Smith said. “But maybe not. We found out that Christian Dresner was part of the athletics program in East Germany.”

“Athletics? I don’t follow,” Klein said.

“He has a history of experimenting on humans.”

“You think he could be behind what happened there?”