Page 6 of The Lazarus Protocol

“For information about your parents.”

Noah blew out a breath. “So they were CIA agents.”

Kraus gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “If you’d like copies of files, those of course are the kind of eyes-only papers that don’t ever leave this building.”

But he was going to let Noah read them?

Based on the research he’d done, Noah got the impression that the whole Division Zero program would be shut down if Kraus couldn’t deliver a new team. Which made him feel only slightly better about how this deal was turning out. No one on his team was going to be happy. He’d be better off not telling them what the compensation was for getting CIA contracts, but they didn’t work that way.

“I just want the truth,” Noah said.

“Then you came to the wrong place, son. If you’re interested in an agreement—an exchange of information, for services rendered—there’s hope we might be on the same page. Willing to work something out.”

“You won’t find better than my team.”

“I certainly hope that’s true.”

THREE

Somewhere in the Patagonian mountains, Argentina

“So my whole squad is on this mission in Bosnia⁠—”

“Last time he told this story, they were in Poland.”

“I’m talking now.” Then, “So we were in Bosnia. Deep winter, snow up to your knees, but the night is clear. It’s zero-two-hundred hours, and we’re at this abandoned railyard that’s probably been there a hundred years. Everything is still and silent.”

“It was a goat.”

“So we’re moving through the rail yard, advancing real slow, when this heat signature shows up. It’s moving low to the ground, going between rail cars. I⁠—”

“It was a badger. But the American kind, that looks like it’s on crack. Not the British kind that wants to invite you to tea.”

“I’m telling a story. So my team stacks up behind me, and we’re still advancing. The thing is pacing us. Keeping step. I’m figuring it’s some kind of ground drone, or a remote surveillance unit. Then it comes out from under the rail car, hopping over the tracks. It’s a raccoon, but this thing had a scar down one eye, and it looked at me like it’s done a dime in Folsom and it’s seen some things it can’t forget.”

Someone snickered.

“We’re all crouched, waiting for it to pass, and it comes over. Pats my boot. I try to shoo it away, and it grabs my pant leg. The thing won’t let go. It lifts up and starts digging in my pocket, pulls out this protein bar I had in there. The guys behind me are trying not to laugh. The raccoon backs up and sits, unwraps the protein bar, and starts eating it. We had to wait three minutes until he was done and scurried off before we could proceed. Try explaining that mission delay on a report.”

Adam lay on the cold ground, listening to the team’s chatter on their open comms channel, trying to ignore the rock digging into his ribs. Binoculars to his eyes, staring at the data center in the valley below. “Unscheduled delay due to environmental variables.” He checked his watch and saw it was 02:34. “Time to move.”

“Finally.” Kai huffed.

Adam got up, shrugging on his small pack with the binoculars now inside, and checked his weapon. “Overwatch, we’re proceeding down the hill.”

“Copy that.” Marina’s voice was loud and clear in his ears, even though she was a hundred miles, or three thousand miles, away—no one knew exactly where she was. Adam usually pictured a trailer in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico. But she could just as easily be in a hotel room, or on a boat.

The team proceeded out from behind the cover of trees and bushes, working their way down the hill. Sticking to a predetermined path that allowed them pockets of time in blind spots between the sweep of the security cameras on the perimeter.

Getting through the fence would be another issue entirely, given the whole thing had been electrified. Any break in the pulse would signal the security system and alert the two guards inside. Considering there were five of them going up against only those two guards, Adam wasn’t concerned they would meet overpowering resistance inside.

Ice was the first to reach the fence, and the one who had been telling the story. He also went by Ivan. Or his middle name, Calvin. Or some version of those three. They all had so many names that only their team could keep things straight, and that was the way they liked it.

Ice clipped a meter to the chain link. “Still hot.”

“Almost there,” Dan responded over comms.

Adam glanced left, feeling the night breeze on the shaved sides of his hair. The top was long these days, so he’d pulled it back in a small ponytail behind the crown of his head, just to keep it out of his eyes. He spotted Dan down the fence line, where he stopped at a control box and in a few seconds had the panel door open. “Three…two…”