Prime (Chess Team Adventure, #0.5)

“Our assets in Syria searched the abandoned helicopter and found the remains…” He swallowed, as if this was the first time he’d put it in words. “They positively identified the remains of Officer Scott Klein, along with two members of the flight crew, and one of your men.”


One? The implications of that punched Sigler in the gut. “Who?”

“Sergeant Major Pettit,” said Keasling. “He was executed; they all were. Point blank range; no sign of a struggle. We have to assume that everyone who was not found dead on that helo is on the side of the enemy.”

Sigler felt his blood go cold. The enemy now had a face and a name: Kevin Rainer, his commanding officer. Rainer had led them into the trap and left them there to die.

Boucher continued. “Three Caucasian men and a Eurasian woman were spotted at Damascus International Airport, boarding a flight to Doha, Qatar. From Qatar, they caught a connecting flight to Yangon—”

Tremblay scratched his goatee. “Yangon? That’s somewhere in East Butt-Fuck, right?”

“Close,” Sigler said. He wasn’t sure about Tremblay’s impulsive need to turn everything into a joke. Sometimes, it was good to have someone around to help lighten the mood, but there was such a thing as too much. “Most people still call it Rangoon. It’s in Myanmar…which most people still call Burma.”

“Goddamn,” Tremblay muttered sourly. “Can’t these people just pick a name and stick with it?”

“They’re in the air right now,” Keasling said, steering the discussion back on point. “We don’t know if that’s their final destination, but our assets in Yangon will pick up their trail.” He looked around the room again, once more making eye contact with each man in turn. “I’m acting under the assumption that some of you here might be interested in payback.”

Sigler could tell that Keasling had been hoping for a cheer or a rousing “Fuck, yeah!” but the subdued mood persisted. After a few seconds, Parker broke the awkward silence.

“Mister…Boucher, is it? Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on?”

Keasling frowned and looked as if he was about to tell Parker to shut up, but Sigler quickly backed his friend up. “I think we all deserve some answers, sir.”

Boucher sighed. “Honestly, I wish I knew. I had the same intel as you going into this. I’ve got a team conducting forensic analysis of the documents you recovered in Ramadi. Our working theory is that the message that sent you out there—the message about a bio-weapons factory—was probably planted.”

By Kevin Rainer, Sigler thought. The promise of a WMD was irresistible bait for the trap. But why?

Why had the Delta commander sold out his men?

“You’re all missing the most important thing,” Parker interjected. His expression was taut, like he was about to explode. “The message wasn’t just about bio-weapons.”

Keasling looked to Boucher for confirmation. The Director of the CIA nodded. “The message contained a specific reference that led to one of our cryptanalysts being sent along.”

“Sasha Therion,” Parker supplied.

“That’s right. We’re considering the possibility that she might have been involved.”

“Bullshit.”

Sigler coughed to get his friend’s attention and flashed a warning glance. Take it down a notch, Danno.

In a more subdued voice, Parker continued: “That reference to the Voynich manuscript… There was a reason for that. They…whoever they are…needed your expert on the manuscript.”

The Delta operators in the room stared at Parker in disbelief; it was as if he’d suddenly grown horns or begun speaking in tongues. But Boucher just nodded. “That’s a scenario we’re considering.”

“Considering? Well consider this. Someone turned at least three operators to make this happen. Whoever is behind it has money and influence, and for some reason they think that a medieval manuscript that no one can read is worth all this trouble. So what you should be considering is: what do they know that we don’t?”

Parker’s comments had aroused Sigler’s curiosity; he wasn’t sure if his friend was really on to something or if his concern arose from a schoolboy crush on the enigmatic Sasha Therion, but he made a mental note to ask his friend for further clarification.

Keasling shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. All that matters is stopping them. That’s your new mission.”

Keasling’s final statement went through Sigler like an electric shock.

Your new mission.

My new mission.

As if reading the unasked questions in the faces of the men in the room, Keasling continued. “Sigler, you’re Cipher Six now. Organizational structure is at your discretion. Tremblay and Roberts, you’re TAD to Cipher element for the duration of this mission…” He glanced at Sigler. “Unless you have an objection to that?”