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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

Randi was completely ignoring the retired marine, instead staring furiously at the red-haired man holding a gun on her. “So you’ve gone over to the other side, huh, Deuce?”

The young soldier frowned and gave a disappointed shake of his head. “What other side, Randi? We need the Merge and you’re doing everything you can to screw that up. All the major wants is to make sure we’re the best-equipped army in the world.”

Whitfield activated an old-fashioned throat mike beneath the collar of his dress shirt. “We’ve got them. Pull back to defensive positions.”

64

64

Near Washington Circle, District of Columbia
USA

JON SMITH WATCHED WHITFIELD examine the wires connecting the disassembled Merge to Marty’s Cray, then turned his attention to the two men guarding them.

Both had switched to pistols due to the close quarters and both had the slightly wandering gaze of Merge users—undoubtedly the military version he’d been developing. The man Randi called Deuce had bright red hair and a sunburned face that made him look less than intimidating despite his black garb and body armor. The fact that he’d gotten fairly close to her a number of times and she hadn’t made a move, though, suggested that his appearance was deceptive.

The one standing next to him was older, probably pushing forty, with the look of someone who had risen through the ranks of the special forces and lost none of his edge to the passing years.

Smith had gone over every angle, every remote possibility, and concluded that there was no hope. Randi had been disarmed and these guys were serious players acting with a level of caution that suggested they were aware of what had happened to the team sent to Randi’s cabin.

Another man who stank of former special forces came in and snapped to attention when Whitfield turned toward him.

“The premises are secure, sir.”

“Police?” Whitfield asked.

“No calls from here have been received at the precinct. One neighbor made a complaint but it appears that these kinds of disturbances aren’t unusual and the dispatcher suggested they pursue the problem in civil court.”

Probably accurate, Smith knew. Despite the shabbiness of his home, Zellerbach was a multimillionaire with a battery of lawyers dedicated to keeping him out of jail. And one of their favorite strategies was orchestrating generous out-of-court settlements to the people he’d inconvenienced.

Whitfield dismissed the man and folded his arms across his chest. “What have you found, Martin?”

Zellerbach gave Smith a terrified, pleading glance but kept his mouth shut.

“Have you cracked Dresner’s encryption? Do you have access to the operating system?”

“No,” Zellerbach mumbled. “That’s…That’s impossible.”

His voice wavered a little but it was hard to know if it was fear or if he was getting to the end of his medication cycle. What Smith didn’t need was his old friend going manic in a situation this precarious.