Aftermath Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Undercover

  Book List

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Aftermath

  (The SSU Book 4)

  by Vanessa Kier

  *****

  Aftermath Copyright © 2014 by Vanessa Kier

  Chapter One

  Siobahn Murphy did not like unsolved mysteries. She never put a book down in the middle of a cliff-hanger. No matter how desperately she needed the facilities, she wouldn’t leave a movie theater if a major plot point was about to be revealed. Friends had learned not to play board games with her unless they wanted a cutthroat fight. Worse, she was damn competitive when it came to figuring out whodunnit.

  All of that made her an excellent investigative journalist, if she did say so herself. Her ex-husband, wherever his philandering soul might be, had called her a damned bulldog who didn’t have the sense to take herself out of the line of fire. Given that he’d died in Iraq trying to pull one of his men out of range of a sniper’s bullet, he hadn’t really been one to talk.

  Nothing sent her journalist’s instincts into overdrive faster than receiving negative attention from the government or law enforcement. A few minutes ago, a team of FBI agents had shown up at her office. Brushing aside the objections of the senior management and their protestations about freedom of the press, the agents had presented a subpoena that allowed them to remove all of her research notes on the article she’d written about the mysterious circumstances surrounding supposedly deceased military and law enforcement personnel.

  Standing in her senior editor’s office, arms crossed and one toe tapping, Siobahn demanded, “Why does the FBI need my notes now on an article that has already run?” What she really wanted to know was why the FBI had waited so long to take action. Surely they’d discovered the same information she’d published. That men from the FBI, other law enforcement agencies, and the military had been reported as dead, then later reappeared, alive, hundreds or thousands of miles away from their last known location. The men had all been more muscular than before, suggesting an excessive use of steroids. A few of them had been spotted “Throwing things around and roaring like damn Godzilla” per one eyewitness.

  Not long after, most of those enhanced men had been dead. For real.

  Yet during Siobahn’s research she’d found no evidence that the FBI or any of the other affected agencies had been working to put an end to the situation. Although, Toby Andrews, an officer with military intelligence and the brother of her friend and former colleague Faith Andrews, had started an unofficial investigation into the matter. Unfortunately, Toby had then disappeared. Unable to find her brother, Faith had turned to Siobahn for help, fearing that Toby had suffered the same fate as the men in Siobahn’s article.

  With typical stoniness, Ajax Fairchild, the jerk of an agent-in-charge—yes, dammit, another ex, although at least she hadn’t married this one—refused to answer. “Sorry, we can’t tell you that. National security.”

  “Where were you two months ago when my story ran?” she countered. “Don’t you think the FBI should have taken action to protect its agents long before now?” Oops. Seemed she wasn’t going to hold back after all.

  But Ajax—who the hell named their son Ajax in this day and age? Even worse, what did it say about her that she’d slept with him despite his overblown name?—ignored her question. After his team boxed up her paper files, the small whiteboard she hadn’t erased because she’d been working on a follow-up article, and confiscated her computer, Ajax handed her a form. “Sign this, please.”

  She felt so smug as she scrawled her name, acknowledging that the FBI had given her a receipt for the removed items and swearing that there were no other items on the premises covered by the FBI’s subpoena.

  Her smugness lasted until Ajax pointed out that the subpoena covered any information she kept at home, as well. Angry at the violation of her privacy when she hadn’t done anything wrong, and wary because it was likely people within the FBI had been part of the cover-up, she insisted on being present, along with the newspaper’s lawyer, while the FBI entered the premises.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d ended up on the wrong side of government scrutiny because of a story she’d been chasing. Just never before inside the United States.

  Of course, this was also the first time she’d uncovered such a far-reaching conspiracy within her own government. She had evidence suggesting that the missing men had been forced into a secret government program run by a man named Dr. Kaufmann. In pursuit of their goal of creating superhuman soldiers, Kaufmann’s scientists treated their subjects as disposable tools without regard to the men’s consent, comfort, or survival. The program operated under such a high level of secrecy that some extremely powerful government officials had to be involved in covering up its activities.

  In fact, Siobahn believed the conspiracy reached all the way to the Oval Office. A little over a month ago, Faith had called Siobahn, warning her to take extra security measures. Faith had learned that President Bryne MacAdam planned to use Kaufmann’s enhanced soldiers in an unspecified upcoming attack, which meant that anyone aware of his plans was in lethal danger.

  That had explained why Siobahn’s contacts had shut the door on her inquiries, but it drove her crazy that she’d failed to ferret out details about the attack. All she’d had were Faith’s reassurances that capable people were working to stop the attack.

  Then, a few days later, President MacAdam had mysteriously resigned. The animated politician who’d loved to talk to the public in person had read a prepared statement from an undisclosed location, wearing a fixed expression that would have done Stonehenge proud.

  The short speech had included an unconvincing line about him still being unable to come to terms with his son’s death five years ago at the hands of terrorists. Since his resignation had occurred shortly after the anniversary of the day his son died, the statement had been taken at face value by the press.

  Except, nope, Siobahn hadn’t bought it.

  While she didn’t have any direct evidence—only Faith’s statement about the President’s involvement—Siobahn had pieced together a story she believed was closer to the truth. President MacAdam had decided to destroy some unnamed target in retaliation for the death of his son five years ago. He’d planned to use Kaufmann’s enhanced soldiers, including Faith’s brother Toby, to carry out the attack. Then some unknown group had stopped the attack and forced MacAdam to resign.

  As if to prove her theory, once the President resigned Siobahn’s contacts started talking to her again. Suspicious? No, not all.

  Uh-huh. Ri-ight.

  Unfortunately, her contacts didn’t have anything more to add to what she’d already discovered.

  Then, two days ago, the news had broken—her paper had been scooped by their main rival, damn it—that MacAdam had died of an apparent heart attack. While her newspaper’s White House correspondent was handling the immediate coverage, Siobahn had gone to her editor and received approval to include the former president’s death in her follow-up investigation regarding the missing law enforcement and military personnel.

  She found the timing of his death suspicious.

  Treading carefully, because if she was right and MacAdam had been murdered Siobahn didn’t want to draw unwanted attent
ion to herself and risk physical harm, she’d begun mining her contacts for information regarding the former president. So far, she hadn’t received any responses beyond the expected expressions of sorrow over his death.

  But apparently she hadn’t been careful enough, if the FBI had suddenly decided she was worth investigating.

  What Siobahn didn’t know was whether this FBI raid was a result of high ranking government officials covering their tracks, or a genuine effort by the FBI to finally investigate what had happened to their men. Either way, it was a good thing she only performed innocuous household tasks on her home desktop, such as paying bills and emailing friends. The personal laptop where she kept the majority of her research was currently locked in a safe deposit vault in Baltimore.

  After the FBI’s team finished with her home, Ajax asked her to accompany them down to headquarters for questioning. If it had been anyone else but Ajax asking, Siobahn would have refused, remembering Faith’s warning last month.

  “Please,” Faith had said. “Don’t draw any attention to yourself, Siobahn. I mean it. Lock your notes away so no one suspects you’ve kept them. Then focus on other things. A lot of very powerful people are running scared right now. Until they’re all rounded up, you’re in danger of being killed.”

  Siobahn had scoffed at that.

  “I’m serious, Siobahn. I can’t tell you what I know because I’m under oath not to talk about it, but the people who hid Kaufmann’s program will not hesitate to kill you if they think you’re a threat.”

  Even if others at the FBI couldn’t be trusted, Siobahn knew that Ajax was an honest man and would do his best to protect her. So she’d agreed to go with him to FBI headquarters.

  Now Siobahn and the newspaper’s lawyer sat across from Ajax in a small room while he interrogated her regarding her investigation.

  “Give me the name of your sources regarding the missing men, Siobahn,” Ajax said as casually as if they were out on a date and trading mundane details about their day.

  “No comment.”

  “You know my client can’t answer that question,” her lawyer added.

  “Who else did you talk to about your investigation?”

  “No comment.” Ajax understood enough about journalism to know that Siobahn had talked to her editor about her original article. If he didn’t also know that Siobahn had been helping Faith to find Toby, which involved sharing her notes, then Siobahn wasn’t going to enlighten him.

  “Does the name Kerberos mean anything to you?” Ajax asked.

  Siobahn hid her surprise. Damn straight she recognized the name. When she and Faith had started inquiring about a CIA black ops group called Kerberos that possibly had ties to the missing men, their research had hit a wall. For the first time in her life, Siobahn couldn’t get people to talk to her. She’d investigated many sensitive topics before. Dug up dirt on people who thought they’d scrubbed clean all traces of their misdeeds. But not even her most skilled cajoling moved her contacts past their fear regarding Kerberos. People saw her coming and ran. Faith’s contacts also refused to talk.

  Surfing the Internet, even delving into little-known forums about supposed government conspiracies had yielded nothing. Although they couldn’t provide sufficient verification, Faith and Siobahn believed that Kerberos had funded Kaufmann’s lab and used the enhanced soldiers for special missions, such as the President’s anniversary demonstration.

  “No comment,” she finally replied. Given the secrecy around Kerberos, she wondered if Ajax had permission to drop the name, or if he’d done it to startle a reaction out of her. He should know better. Neither Siobahn or Faith broke under pressure. They wouldn’t have survived years of overseas assignments in the war-torn countries of the world without being tough.

  As if reading her mind—a trait Ajax had definitely not displayed during their short affair, thank heavens—he asked, “Are you aware that your former colleague Faith Andrews had been conducting similar research? And that her house burned down last month?”

  “I saw the news report of the fire.” Afterward, Faith had told Siobahn to stop investigating. She’d pointed out that if the men involved with her brother’s disappearance had no compunction in burning down her house, they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Siobahn as well. Even worse, Faith feared for Toby’s life if the men felt too threatened.

  Which, of course, had only made Siobahn more determined to get to the truth. But in order to prevent any retaliation against Toby, she’d reluctantly agreed to temporarily halt her research. In the privacy of her own home, however, Siobahn had written up her notes and documented a variety of theories, making certain she’d be prepared to restart her investigation as soon as it was safe.

  And she’d kept her ears open for any relevant pieces of information.

  None of which she intended to share with the FBI.

  Ajax’s questions went on and on, often asking for the same information but in a slightly different manner. Yet Siobahn didn’t dare tell Ajax the truth, even if she’d wanted to.

  Not that the uptight agent would ever dream of breaking or even slightly bending the law, but who knew if one of the guilty parties had access to his files.

  “For the last time,” Siobahn said. “No comment.”

  Ajax leaned forward. “Dammit, Siobahn. I’m trying to protect you, here!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. Sure looks that way from here.”

  “Siobahn—”

  She put her lips to his ear. “If you’re really determined to help, you should think about who among your colleagues you’d trust with my life.”

  His eyes widened as he sat back. Yeah, they might be completely incompatible even as friends, but the guy wasn’t stupid. He knew she was implying someone in his agency was involved.

  Ten minutes later, she was free. Siobahn bid a cheerful good-bye to her lawyer and headed to her favorite restaurant to wind down.

  Poor Ajax. The FBI’s raid had only reignited her determination to write that follow-up article. She was damn sick of everyone trying to muzzle her. Even Faith.

  After Toby had been rescued, Faith had made Siobahn promise not to write that follow-up article. “Toby and the other survivors of Kaufmann’s program don’t need their story making the news,” Faith had said, the pain in her voice touching Siobahn’s soft spot. “They’re struggling to regain their humanity. It’s not something that should be splashed across the front page. So please, let it go.”

  “You know I can’t do that. I’ll hold off on the article for now, but I need to know when it’s okay to pick up the story again.”

  Faith’s unhappy inhale had been audible. “I don’t know if that will be…advisable.”

  Siobahn’s ears had perked up. Advisable was their code for a story that was too hot at the moment, but would be exposé material once things changed. She’d understood that Faith would give her permission to proceed once it was safe.

  With that in mind, Siobahn had made the promise to drop her investigation. And meant it.

  Well, the FBI had just pushed her out of her play-nice zone. Their raid came too soon after MacAdam’s death to be coincidence. Forget subtlety. It was time to bust some balls.

  She dialed a number. When no one picked up, she left a message. “Faith, darling, you and I need to talk. The rules of the game have changed. Your grace period is over. You need to tell me what you know about MacAdam’s ties to Kerberos. Call me.”

  Dammit, she was late again. Two days after the FBI questioned her, Siobahn re-clipped her press pass to her blouse’s front pocket, picked up her purse from the metal detector’s scanner, and waved good-bye to the guard as she slung the heavy bag over her shoulder.

  “Henry, tell your brother he still owes me twenty bucks!” she called to the guard standing by the elevators. Henry gave her a grin and a thumbs up as she hurried past on her way to the staircase. His wolf whistle and “Nice legs, Murphy” made her roll her eyes, but secretly she was pleased. Hey, call her vain, but she had
to admit that at forty-eight, she liked knowing her body was still considered attractive.

  “Don’t let your wife hear you say that, Henry,” she called back as she hit the stairs at a pace dangerous to one less skilled in running in four-inch heels. Aware that her pace had hiked up her skirt to nearly indecent levels, she tried tugging it down once she was out of sight of the guards. Damn you, Farsil. You owe me one.

  She hated covering Congress. Unfortunately, Farsil, another senior reporter at the newspaper, had finally taken a long overdue vacation with his family this week. Leaving Siobahn filling in on the Capitol beat. She’d done six months of legislative and White House reporting during her early years and hadn’t been able to get out of the political morass fast enough. She’d rather be embedded with a military unit in a hot zone than forced to listen in on hours of boring testimony just to extract one interesting tidbit.

  Of course, because Siobahn didn’t want to be here, she’d left the office with little time to spare to get to the congressional hearing on climate change. Thanks to nearby construction detours, she was now late for the hearing.

  She barreled across the first landing, took a deep breath—damn, even with the amount of aerobic exercise she got every week she still didn’t have the cardio stamina of her twenty-year-old self—and hurtled up the next flight. As she reached the top of the enclosed stairwell, a man turned toward the stairs from the corridor.

  Siobahn collided with him and bounced back. One narrow heel slipped off the edge of the top marble stair, throwing her off balance. She gave a little squeak of shock.

  Strong hands caught her arms, steadying her and keeping her from falling down the stairs. Siobahn gasped and grabbed onto the man’s forearms to anchor herself. He twisted slightly to the side, giving her enough room to get her feet underneath her on the slippery corridor floor while avoiding full body contact.

  The man had moved so quickly, and held her with such strength, that Siobahn just blinked at him. Not many men—hell, none at all came to mind—would have gone out of their way to avoid plastering themselves against a female. Yet this man kept a polite distance between them, and his fingers didn’t make any inappropriate side trips as he slowly released her.