The White House
0932 EST


As he headed to the mess table, Gregory felt a hand grabbing his elbow. "Hang on, Peace," said Kelso as he turned to face her. "I need you to go link up with another agent. You remember that Tactical guy I was telling you about earlier?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"He's doing an errand for Odessa and he's feeling a little lonely. Think you could keep him company?"

"Sure," Gregory said with a shrug. "What's the errand?"

"What do you know about Odea?"

"Tech firm, specializing in energy storage solutions, home renewable energy systems, that sort of thing." Gregory scratched his chin for a moment. "CEO strikes me as the typical codebro."

"Funny you mention that."

"Aw, crap," groaned Gregory. "Vikram Malik's here in town?"

"Indeed, he is. A little bird picked up word the Hyenas are using him for tech support. You get to bust him out while my guy shoots and loots."

"Wasn't he being indicted or something right before Black Friday?"

"The SEC was investigating him. They said they'd make an announcement after New Year's. Guess that kinda fell by the wayside."

"Am I being punished?"

Kelso chuckled and shook her head. "Don't cry over a compliment. You're steady and you're looking better. I wouldn't put you out with my guy unless I thought you could handle it and succeed." She punched Gregory's shoulder lightly. "ISAC will have the rendezvous point loaded up for you."

"Aside from the watch, how will I know this guy?" asked Gregory.

"The warpaint will be a dead giveaway," Kelso said with a grin.

* * *

Half a block from the Odea flagship store, Gregory saw a rail thin man leaning against the corner of a building. The SHD watch was obvious at a distance. More obvious was the broad streak of lamp black across his eyes. As Gregory approached, he began to make out some differences between this man and Lowell Ryckmen. Ryckmen easily stood six foot three without his boots on. This man was barely five and a half feet, and the beat-up sneakers suggested the heels were very thoroughly compacted from use. While Ryckmen was naturally lanky, Kelso's agent looked almost emaciated, the flannel shirt and trucker hat on his head oddly ill-fitting on him, as if they were just a little bit too big for his frame, and the next size down probably would have been uncomfortably tight. And while Ryckmen's features were broadly craggy, this man had the narrow and painfully sharp face one would expect on a ferret. But there was clearly one thing the two agents had in common. Both of them had the same almost casually relaxed stance, aware of their surroundings but not overly concerned with them.

The other agent smiled and moved over to meet Gregory halfway in the street. "You're Gregory?" the man asked with a pronounced Southern accent. When Gregory nodded, the man continued, "Ricky Tarvey. Pleased to meet you," as he stuck out his right hand.

"Likewise," said Gregory. "Guessing you're not a townie."

"Aw, hell no. I normally live in Memphis. Been out here since Black Friday in one capacity or another."

Gregory glanced over at the Odea store. "Any movements out of the Hyenas?"

"Naw, they've just been sitting in there, keeping a watch on the alley behind the store. Looks like it's the only way in. Still trying to figure out if because somebody was smart or somebody was dumb lucky." Tarvey took a package of chewing gum out of the right breast pocket of his shirt and popped a stick into his mouth.

"We'll assume smart until proven wrong. How are you fixed for ammo?"

"Topped up," Tarvey replied with a sharp nod. "Saw Odessa before I came out here. Now, I know the Theater could really use those battery packs she's talking about, but neither one of us is particularly happy about using Odea tech."

"Because of the computer control mechanisms hardwired into them."

Tarvey smiled arctically at Gregory. "Right on the money. May I assume you've got a means to bypass that control scheme? Or are we going to have to start scavenging car batteries?"

"We might have to do that, anyway. I don't know how many battery packs Odea has in their store and I've got no idea what the settlement's power requirements are likely to be. You know it's only going to go up once there's the potential for more juice to go around. As for a bypass, I'll need to probably tear at least one battery pack apart, preferably while it's discharged." Gregory gave Tarvey his own feral grin. "I live dangerously enough as it is."

Tarvey led the way towards the back of the building. As they moved, Gregory noticed the construction scaffolding set up between the Odea store and the smaller building right next to it. "What's this other building here?"

"Combination fashion boutique and atelier. The Hyenas have people inside the boutique to reinforce the guards if somebody comes down the alley. But they all come out the far end. No other access points." Tarvey snorted as he paused behind a corner, then skittered over behind a dead car. Gregory waited till he signaled it was clear for him to come over. "Having a single door can be helpful, but not if you funnel yourself afterwards."

"Any way we can get a read on when those reinforcements will come in?" asked Gregory.

Tarvey smiled as he reached behind to his backpack and pulled out a rubberized dodecahedron about the size of a softball. "I love this little guy," he grinned as he chucked it towards a wall, then put on a pair of sport sunglasses. The sensor ball bounced along the bricks before coming to rest behind a dumpster. Instantly, the ISAC mount began to overlay the positions of Hyenas onto the inside of the lenses. "Eight hostiles, two with batons, four with assault rifles, one with a machine pistol, one with a long rifle. Four more in the boutique, one baton, two assault rifles, and probably a shotgun."

"Don't think I've seen that little trick before," said Gregory with a note of astonishment in his voice.

"Remote pulse. The sensor pod actually crams in more functionality than the typical sensor pulse," Tarvey beamed, tapping the ISAC mount on his shoulder. "Magnetic mass, ultrasound, infrasound, thermal, all in one neat little package. It'll sweep for about thirty seconds and update the shades. Wish I'd had this in the bush." He brought up a M1A carbine set in a CQB stock and put it to his shoulder. "I'll take their sharpshooter. Keep those beaters off me." He drew a deep breath, held it, then squeezed the trigger, sending a round down range. Gregory shouldered his CTAR and looked down the sights as the first Hyenas barreled towards the car. The hostiles had stacked up running down the left-hand side of the alley, running under a section of scaffolding, making it so neither Gregory nor Tarvey could really miss.

"I counted six," Gregory said as he swept the alley with the muzzle of his weapon.

"Two slipped back towards the boutique. Seven months of this, you gotta figure at least a few of them will wise up."

"So, how'd you get to the Ranch?" Gregory asked as they moved towards the far end of the alley.

"Probably the same way you did. A G5 with tail numbers you never see used again." Tarvey grinned at him. "But if you're asking what I did before this, I was in the Teams. Separation rate was Petty Officer 1st Class."

"You were a SEAL?"

"Yup. Mostly with SEAL Team Two, with a side trip into Green Team towards the end. Broke my leg on a HALO jump."

"How bad was it?"

"Let's just say that, after Black Friday, guards at the front doors had my picture taped to the back side of the metal detectors so they could ID me without the usual rituals."

Gregory winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"What about you?" asked Tarvey as he slung the rifle and produced an MP5N. "Odessa said you were Analytics, but you seem to know which end of the gun the bullets come out of."

"I am honestly mystified how I got in. Didn't go to a big name school, didn't go to work in any of the big tech outfits, wasn't in the military or police." Gregory checked inside a broken out window, ensuring no Hyenas were close by. Slipping inside, the pair entered the boutique, seeing the remaining guard force huddled towards the back, bickering. Tarvey pulled the pin on a grenade, popped the spoon off and counted before he threw it. The grenade almost hit the floor before exploding, taking most of the Hyenas out in a single blow, with Gregory finishing off the two survivors rapidly. "The only thing I can think of was a series of essays I wrote on neural net heuristic systems. It was in my spare time. I put them up on a janky little web site I scratched together. About a year after the last one, guy comes up to me, says he wants to offer me an opportunity to serve my country. Next thing I know, I'm off to the Ranch. Year or so after that, Black Friday."

Tarvey's ferret-like face grew thoughtful at this. "ISAC, what was Agent Paxton Gregory's tactical course standing at the completion of his training?"

"Agent Gregory: ranked ninth out of forty-seven in tactical course."

"Not too shabby."

Gregory looked at Tarvey in surprise. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Well, one of the funny little things about Directive 51 being activated, Division agents get to see everything. The idea of 'classified' information kinda goes out the window. It's less that we're cleared to see it so much as the information is immediately declassified when we ask for it. The assumption being if we're asking for it, it must be something we're doing to ensure the continuity of government."

"Anything?" Gregory asked weakly, horrified visions flashing through his head.

"Almost. There are a few things we don't get to see. Nuclear launch codes are not included, praise God. And any R&D black projects which do not have a direct bearing on the existing crisis are out. If somebody was working on something like Amherst was, though, we'd be able to dig it up if we asked the right questions."

"Good to know."

Gregory and Tarvey went through the boutique and the atelier, then over to another scaffold backed up against the Odea store. Creeping in, the pair surveyed the situation. A glassed in office showed a civilian standing at a workbench, wisps of smoke coming up as he soldered electronics together. From his expression, he wasn't enjoying the work.

"There's our guy. Vikram Malik himself, slaving away over a hot soldering iron, like any other sweatshop worker," quipped Gregory. "What do you think?"

"I think we take them at a run." Tarvey unlimbered an MP5 and flipped the selector to burst fire. "Just try not to hit me. Got enough metal in me already," he said with a grin.

"All right." Gregory shouldered the CTAR, lining up his first target. "On your go."

Tarvey slipped down a set of stairs in the store, putting himself on the same level as the office. "Drop'em."

Gregory fired, putting a short burst through one Hyena, then a second. He looked down from the upper level, watching as Tarvey moved with economic grace, the submachinegun coughing spastically as three round bursts dropped targets one by one. Shifting position, Gregory swept for reinforcements, firing down on incoming Hyenas, catching the occasional glimpse of Tarvey as he snapped from one target to the next with practiced ease. However broken his leg might have been back then, it didn't seem to have slowed Tarvey up by this point.

"All clear," called out Tarvey. Gregory made his way down to the office, then punched in the code which a Hyena had thoughtfully written on the glass next to the keypad.

"Good morning, Mr. Malik," Gregory began. "We'd like to discuss the acquisition of some of your battery packs."

"You've wasted a trip, then," snapped Malik. "The store only had a few floor models and those Hyena thugs took those ages ago. Couldn't tell you what happened to them."

"This is a store, right? Where people buy things?" asked Tarvey, not quite keeping the sarcasm under wraps.

"Yes, you ignorant hillbilly, this is a store, but we don't have any actual stock here," Malik replied caustically. "It cuts down on the operating costs. We ship it from one of the Odea warehouses to a customer's location after they've paid for it."

"Well, crap."

"Mr. Malik, we'll escort you to the Theater. You'll be safe there," assured Gregory.

Malik looked unconvinced. "I wouldn't bet on it."

* * *

The White House
1334 EST


"What's got you so engrossed?" asked Kelso as she saw Gregory sitting at a desk with his feet propped up on top.

"Light reading. Did you know Lowell's a bona fide warrior-poet?"

"Seriously?"

"Master's degree in English Lit from George Mason, minor in fine arts. His thesis was about civilian perspectives on the military experience in poetry. Lot of Kipling in there, some Fitz-Greene Halleck, a few others. Pre-Black Friday, he had about half a dozen pieces published in literary journals. It was after he got out of the 10th Mountain. I'm kinda impressed."

"You'll have to talk to him about it sometime later, after he gets back from that LRRP job I sent him on. Meanwhile, you need to saddle up. You and Ricky have a command performance over by the Theater."

"Command performance?" asked Gregory, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Kelso smiled serenely at him. "It seems Vikram Malik is requesting your services specifically."

Gregory pulled his feet off the desktop. "Now what does that schmuck want?" he asked suspiciously. "Last week, he was just all kinds of put out about being at the Theater. Not to mention he looked at us like we were only a hair above foot shuffling menials. He was nastier to Ricky than he was to me, and that's probably the dumbest thing I've seen since Black Friday. Don't tell me Odessa actually beat some sense into him."

"I don't think so. But he did ask for you both. I don't know if this is an apology or him being smart enough to realize you two really are good at your jobs. I've actually got a comm channel open if you want to talk to him."

"Had him on hold this whole time?" Kelso nodded, prompting a shrug from Gregory. "Flip it over to me." Kelso waited till Gregory put on a headset, then tapped her watch a couple of times. "This is Agent Gregory."

"This is Vikram Malik. Agent, I wanted to apologize, both to you and Agent Tarvey. I know you're doing the best you can, and I understand why you were looking for the battery packs."

"The apology is appreciated, but Agent Kelso indicated to me you wanted to request assistance from myself and Agent Tarvey for some reason."

"Yes. There's an Odea office and transshipment warehouse, north-northeast of the Theater. The warehouse section isn't terribly large, but it should have a supply of battery packs. From what I remember, we usually kept enough on hand to fulfill at least fifty orders. More packs were stored in the winter so when spring orders started to come in, we'd be ready. I can meet you there. Apparently, the Theater is running a security sweep in that area, so they were willing to let me tag along."

"Send us the cross-streets, and I'll have Agent Tarvey meet us there," said Gregory.

"Absolutely. See you soon. Malik, out."

Two hours later, Gregory and Tarvey padded through the foyer of the Odea office almost silently with Vikram Malik in tow. It was eerily quiet, but of the three people currently in the building, Tarvey seemed to be handling things the best. Gregory wasn't exactly jumpy, but the second floor looking into the foyer didn't exactly make him feel comfortable. Strangely, Malik himself seemed jumpier than Gregory. And from the way he'd conducted himself prior to his rescue, it seemed off.

"Worried about Hyena patrols?" asked Gregory quietly over his shoulder.

"A little. It wasn't exactly a corporate retreat in St. Lucia working for them."

The trio reached a pair of frosted glass doors, a keypad waiting for an entry code. Malik went over it and punched in a sequence of numbers, then frowned as the LED indicator flashed red. "My code isn't working. They must have changed it. Can you get us in?"

Gregory came over to the pad, popped the face off with a multi-tool, then forced a bypass. The doors slid open and the men proceeded further inside. A minute later, they were in a nicely appointed office, design schematics taped up on two walls, Post-It notes scattered hither and yon, but only a few personal items and no pictures anywhere. Malik went over to the workstation on the desk and began to type in commands, occasionally double-clicking an icon here and there. "They locked down the elevator into the warehouse. I'll get it working, and then we can open up the freight entrance for the Theater's people. Elevator's just around the corner, there." He gave the two agents a dismissive look and they walked around the corner to the elevator.

"Something smells about this, Paxton," Tarvey said quietly. "He was just a little too eager to get us out of that office."

"Might be force of habit. I can't see him working in the office right above a warehouse floor." Gregory shrugged a little bit, hating to play devil's advocate. "But he should have network access through any workstation in the company. And this one probably has the controls needed to operate the elevator."

"Gentlemen, the elevator is waiting," Malik said impatiently over a PA speaker. Something about the tone of his voice put Gregory on high alert. Malik had to be up to something, but whatever it was, the battery packs below couldn't be left behind.

"Trap?" asked Tarvey as he checked the chamber on his MP5.

"Trap," agreed Gregory, unlimbering the M249. It might be a stupid trap, basically to keep them out of the way for some reason, but there was no way they wouldn't get out eventually. "One sec." Gregory tapped his watch. "Blue Parrot, this is SHD Peacemaker, requesting visual overhead on my coordinates. Slugging now." He tapped the watch twice, sending the GPS coordinates to the Ops Center at the White House.

"Peacemaker, this is Blue Parrot, coordinates received. Asset inbound, ETA ninety seconds."

"Copy that. Don't keep us in suspense. Peacemaker, out." Gregory moved in the elevator with Tarvey right behind him, then punched the button going down. The small drone fleet Ortega had cobbled together couldn't stay airborne indefinitely, certainly not the same way Predator drones used to prior to Black Friday, but they could be called in and stay on station for the short periods of time Division agents were on site at any given time.

The elevator slowly descended into the warehouse and the doors opened up. Tarvey took point, the muzzle of his submachinegun swinging back and forth like a metronome, Gregory bringing up the rear with his muzzle pointed toward the ceiling. Along one wall, the squashed trapezoidal shapes of Odea high density battery packs sat on a set of heavy industrial shelves. Gregory went over and checked them out. All of them were still shrink wrapped in plastic. "We're business. Malik, open the loading dock, please."

"Yeah, about that," came the reply over the PA. "It will open up, but there's some guys who want to have a word with you. They're kinda irritated about you breaking me out. So they're going to have a little chat with you two. Too bad I won't be around to contribute to the meeting. I'm sure it'll be fascinating."

A chirp came over the agent's watches. "Peacemaker, this is Blue Parrot. Be advised, we have a small force of Hyenas heading for your location. Looks like they're splitting into two groups. One is entering the building by the front door, the other appears to be making their way around to the loading dock."

"Copy, Blue Parrot. Peacemaker, out." Gregory moved around behind a short panel truck and checked the chamber as Tarvey knelt down behind a forklift.

"Bastard set us up," growled Tarvey. "He can't possibly think he'll get away with this."

"Tech CEOs all have the same weak spot, Ricky," Gregory replied as he braced his LMG on the truck's fender. "None of them think past the next quarter. And Malik is no exception. He's thinking short term, thinking that we won't be able to go after him if we're dead." A grim smile grew on his face. "He might be right, but I'm not worried."

Tarvey brought the SMG to his shoulder. "Why's that?"

"Because I'm pretty sure Lowell won't quit once he picks up Malik's trail. He's got a bad habit of collecting grudges."