The group fell silent, digesting that impossibility.
"We've been chasing them all over the globe for the past two years, and it seems they haven't even been bothering to hide," Ivana said. "Is this just a safe house, or their base of operations?"
"Our information is thin at this point," Ruche answered. "We're interviewing other neighbors and outsiders with business there, from the mailmen to the pool boys. But it looks like all five of them moved in as soon as they escaped, and never left."
Ivana's fingers drummed on the tabletop. "So. They've been living a life of comfort and plenty while leading us on a wild goose chase for two solid years. Maybe they just got bored, decided to liven things up a little." Her fingertips were hitting the table so hard, Colby noted, that her nails were marking the lacquered surface. "At this point, they'd gotten away clean. We couldn't use local police to hunt them, because we'd cleared the area of all forces but ours, per standard doctrine – which the Cheerleaders seemed to know quite well. They could have gone anywhere. Instead-" She fell silent, overcome with anger.
Ruche took over. "Thirty minutes after we lost contact, they were spotted again… on the same road, headed the other way. As if they were looking for us. By this time, their dedicated pickup team was in the field and took over, and they formed up and gave chase. The pursuit led up into the hills north of Miramar."
"Once again, they're obviously trapped." Ivana had regained her composure. "The fugitives take a vacant road that dead ends five miles up in the hills. The only fork winds back towards Miramar and peters out. We have an armed chopper lying in wait to disable their car, and twelve trained agents, armed to the teeth, right on their tail. The bait was wiggling irresistibly on the hook."
Everyone waited. Ruche nodded at Adams while he fiddled with his laptop. "Mr. Adams was a member of the pickup team. What would you say happened?"
"They beat us to the draw," Adams said simply. "Knocked the chopper out of the sky as soon as it appeared, then took out the chase cars at a range of about two hundred yards. Then they took off down the road and disappeared again."
Diehl leaned in. "How?"
"Twenty-millimeter cannon." The billboard changed from a view of the Spaulding-smashed chase car to a scene that resembled the airport road to Baghdad on a bad day: three wrecked and burning cars in a crooked line, with a broken helicopter lying a few yards off the road. "The rounds were, I'm told, PGU-28s, armor-piercing high-explosive incendiaries, designed to pierce light armor and raise holy hell with what's behind it. A round tailor-made for the job, given an accurate weapon and a good marksman."
Colby blinked at the totaled vehicles spewing oily smoke. "You said no casualties?"
"None, sir. It was a rifle, not a Gatling. They fired exactly five rounds, with pinpoint accuracy. I'm sure they could have killed us all if they'd wanted to."
And despite any injunctions, the word will spread. "Where'd they get their hands on a twenty-millimeter sniper rifle and military ordnance? Scratch that. Twenty-millimeter is the commonest cannon round in the NATO arsenal; I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to make a couple boxes disappear. And I'm also sure a man with Lynch's money could have a fine gun custom-made for it."
"Which they just happened to be carrying in the back of their minivan on a shopping trip." Ruche looked at Ivana.
Ivana drummed her fingers on the table again. "After two years making us chase our tails, they pop up in the middle of a Security op like a clutch of cats at a dog show, bitch-slap us, and disappear. And then to make sure we get the message, they do it a second time, in the same afternoon, to specialists we trained to apprehend them." She looked around the table. "People, we're being challenged."
"Or warned," Colby said.
"It's the same thing." She folded her arms on the table, deliberately stilling her restless fingertips. "I want a brief on Genactives worked up for our Security people, and a training program for dealing with them. We can't expect them to protect their principals effectively otherwise."
"If we do that, we'll have to give the bodyguards higher security clearances than some of their principals," Ruche protested.
"So be it. Work something out, Mr. Ruche. And quickly. You're going to be earning your pay this week." She turned to Colby. "As are you, since I want you to work up the training program. And I want similar training instituted for our paramilitaries."
"Ma'am," Colby said slowly, "you want to train Operations troopers to engage Genactives?"
"I do. Further, I want Operations personnel ready to support and reinforce Security in joint actions." She glanced at Adams. "I suggest you start with Dr. Ivery's Special Security people, since they're our resident experts, and more likely to make hard contact with Gens. And perhaps SS might find some fresh ideas from outsiders invigorating. But before we're done, I want your troopers ready to work in concert with Mr. Ruche's Security people, as well."
Colby tried to imagine the trained killers of the X-Teams conducting joint exercises with the former private detectives and rent-a-cops that comprised most of Ruche's security details. I wonder if she knows the Operations grunts refer to them as 'Gerry's Kids.' "Are we talking about using my people as a reserve of some sort?"
Ivana's mouth thinned. "I'm talking about taking off the kid gloves, Mr. Colby. I want bodyguard details to be able to call on Razors if they're ambushed by Gens, and Keepers reinforced by X-Teams on takedown operations. The next time we run into this bunch, they're coming back with us. Period."
She turned back to Ruche. "And I'd rather be the one to pick the time and place that happens. Throw all available resources into hunting down Lynch's bunch. Get all possible details of their stay at that beach house. Interview every clerk they talked to at the mall. Go back to the ambush site, and walk the road. Sift the gravel. Find out if ground-scanning satellites of any type were looking at the area at the time. Get the video record of every traffic cam within a couple miles. Interview anybody living within the same radius. I want to know how they disappeared off a dead-end road in the middle of nowhere."
Ruche said faintly, "Yes, ma'am."
"All right. I think we're finished here for now. Remember, gentlemen, no one else is to know about this discussion until Mr. Ruche prepares his brief and Mr. Colby the training program. Mr. Ruche, Mr. Colby, and Dr. Ivery please remain."
Once again, a knot of men filed to the door. When it closed behind them, Ivana said, "Gerry, let's see that mall picture again, the little blonde shooting up the corridor." When the image appeared, Ivana studied it from her chair. "This one is the game-changer. Especially if she's not unique. How did she pop onto the scene from nowhere? I'll admit it's possible we missed more than a few of the illegitimate Thirteens with our net. But, to all appearances, they're nearly normal kids until they manifest. Somehow, I doubt this one could make it all the way to puberty without attracting notice. If there are a handful of them, how is it we didn't spot at least one of them before now?"
"I've been thinking about that," Ivery said. "Something Frank said about physiological changes prompted it. As you know, they don't all occur at puberty. Thirteens are physically remarkable specimens when they're born. If we're prepared to throw all our assumptions aside… how old can we be sure this girl is?"
Ruche shrugged. "No older than twenty-one, twenty-two at the oldest, or she's not the child of a Twelve."
"Yes. But I'm thinking in the other direction. We looked for unusual kids aged thirteen to eighteen, on the assumption that we wouldn't spot a Gen any younger."
"Wait. You think-"
"You said it yourself, Gerry. Sometimes she doesn't look more than ten years old. Homo sapiens has an unusually long adolescence. Most animals our size are fully mature in just a year or two." Ivery added, "It wouldn't undermine your theory. For all we know, these… Twelve-fives are sexually mature when normal girls are still playing with dolls."
Colby filed that possibility away, as part of a conversation he intended to have with Lynch as soon as possible.
Ivana nodded. "So we need to broaden our search parameters." She stood and rounded the table, eyes on Colby. Ruche started to rise, but she gestured him back down without looking at him. She drew back the chair next to the Deputy Director and sat.
Colby felt a familiar and uncomfortable sensation. He'd never been this close to his boss before, except for the occasional handshake. He was suddenly aware of her as a woman for the first time, and realized she was only a few years older than he was, and quite good-looking. She laid her hand over his on the table, and looked up into his eyes. She had nice eyes when she smiled: dark brown, clear, generously lashed. He flashed on an image of her on the other side of a candlelit table.
She said in a low voice, "Frank, I'm done screwing around with you. I know you're in contact with some of the runaways at least, probably Jack's bunch. I've tolerated it for two reasons. One, because I thought it might come in handy someday. Two, because I'm sure you're too smart to aid them against us."
She gripped his hand tightly, making him feel in the grip of a raptor. Her eyes turned dark and flat, reminding him of a shark's. "If I thought for a moment you'd helped to set up our people in San Diego, you wouldn't leave this room alive. But they used you, just the same, I think. They knew you were headed for a meet, and would ditch your security detail. They just shadowed you and waited for you to disappear before they sprang their trap. That still leaves you on very thin ice with me, Frank. Up here where the air is thin and the paychecks are heavy, you and Santini are all that's left of the old guard. I keep you both around because your usefulness outweighs the bother of dealing with you. Don't fall on the wrong side of that balance, Frank. After what happened at the mall, you need to go out of your way for me. If you have… resources, use them." She nodded towards the image on the billboard. "Find out who she is, and what she really wants. I want this threat neutralized."
She stood, and reached down for his hand, tugging him out of his chair. When he stood, they were only a foot apart, with her hand still in his. He caught a hint of her perfume, something musky and expensive. She looked up at him, a smile playing around her mouth. She straightened his tie. "Frank, you're incorrigible. Have you ever thought of looking for a girl in church?"
His ears reddened. "If I found one, she'd probably be robbing the poorbox."
She laughed genteelly. "I'd hate to lose you, I really would." She guided him towards the door with a hand at the small of his back. "Dig deep, Frank. You're investigating on my authority. If you learn anything substantive, call me day or night."
Once he was out the door, he saw Phillips at the end of the hall, waiting for him.