Restore Page 2

  Shit. What the hell did Zared do to piss off Steve? The man would do anything—and has done nearly everything—to keep her protected. Sighing, I push my fingers through my sandy blond hair. “What the fuck did he do?”

  “It’s more like what he’s said. He accused you of being a traitor. Even had the nerve to say he should have put a bullet in you when he had the chance. You know that didn’t sit well with Sibley.”

  No shit.

  My grandmother—I’ve always called her Mama Sibley because she doesn’t look old enough to be anyone’s grandmother—has always been the feisty spirit. She’s the one I should have lived with after my parents and brother died. With her, I probably would have lived a better life.

  And never met Rihana.

  Or had those adventures with Mark. Probably shouldn’t have had those.

  “I should, like, talk to him. Explain things,” I offer.

  Steve softly shakes his head and takes a sip from the cup. With it still lifted, he says, “Not yet. You’re going to stay here on base tonight. Let your friend cool off.”

  Slamming my hand against the table, I shout, “I want to go the fuck home.”

  “Calm yourself,” he cautions. “There are bigger problems to tackle than your friend’s ignorance.”

  I push to my feet and pace the floor behind the table. “Like what?”

  “When’s the last time you spoke to Bashur?”

  Stopping, I scratch my head. I don’t remember. We had a face-to-face or an actual phone call. All of Bashur’s commands come through an operative. The last one being Farouk.

  “Why?”

  Steve glances down before his troubled gaze lands on me. “Bashur has made himself at home with Rihana and Viyan.”

  Leaning my palms on the table, I say, “Like, what the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means the man is behaving like you’re dead and he’s Rihana’s next husband.”

  All I see is red. My fist connects with the wall, and searing pain shoots through my knuckles.

  “Wise move,” Steve quips, standing beside me. “Let’s see if you broke it.”

  I yank my hand away and pull it close to my chest. “It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve tried to put my hand through a wall.”

  Steve’s eyes scrunch up for a moment before he says, “Don’t worry. There are men watching over your wife and kid. They’ve been instructed not to leave her alone.”

  Ignoring the pain, I ask, “Even at night?”

  “Especially at night.” Steve rests a hand on my shoulder. “We must find out what that man is up to. I don’t trust him.”

  Nice to know my suspicions are justified. Of late, my trust in others runs thin. Maybe I should change my negative opinions of some individuals? After all, Steve kept an eye out for my wife and kid. He’s earned my respect.

  “You might not want to hear it,” Steve continues, “but I think your faith in Bashur is misplaced.”

  “Humph. My faith in a lot of things is on shaky ground.”

  Steve raises an eyebrow and gives me a curious glance. “Something you want to talk about?”

  “I’m just having some doubts in life. About me, Riza, the Alliance…just…everything.” Pausing for a beat or two, I blow air through my cheeks. “Steve, I’ve made a lot of dumb-ass decisions. People have gotten hurt because of me. I need to be done with all this secret shit.”

  “Understood. You’ve had a lot dropped in your lap. More than anyone your age should have to deal with.” He points to my left hand. “Those doubts don’t include your marriage, right?”

  Glancing at the band I can finally wear in public, I confirm, “No. It’s about the only thing I’m sure of these days.”

  Steve nods. “I’m sure the Alliance contacted you. What does it want you to do?”

  “You mean the Network?”

  “Yes.”

  “To find the Helix and dismantle Project Restore.”

  “Wow.” He folds his arms across his chest and lifts a hand to his chin. “Can you do it?”

  “Me? Alone? No. Supposedly, there’s a notebook with info about the location and even the experiments. I have to find the damned thing.”

  “Let me get a team on it.” Steve leans against the wall. “This loud-mouthed friend of yours… You said he’s good with computers?”

  Releasing a deep, weighted sigh, I say, “Zared’s a hell of a hacker. He’s been tapping into R-Net too much, though. Triggered an alert while he was up in Canada.”

  “We have ways around that.” Steve pushes off the wall. “I’ll meet with him tomorrow. Find out how valuable he could be.”

  Zared is extremely useful if he can just learn to check his temper. His one weakness is the one person, other than my wife, that I worry about. “Has Tru seen a doctor?”

  Steve smiles. “Leslie checked her out. The girl’s scared to go to a hospital. Leslie will work her connections, though, and get Tru taken care of.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I shake out my throbbing hand. “Probably should put some ice on this.”

  “Yeah. Take my space in the next hangar. Sibley sent over a change of clothes for you. Anything else you might require is in the bathroom.”

  Pursing my lips, I consider what Steve just said—his space. He could have easily given me a bunk with the rest of the crew. I guess it’s safe to say that Steve is overlooking my shortcomings.

  “Thanks, Steve.”

  “No problem. You’re family.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Thanks to those who lead this country, citizens live in a vast wasteland. But those who have vision can rise from the ruin.”

  —from the Honorable M. Raman Bashur,

  Kurdish political & religious thinker

  Morning brings new problems. The first being how much I hate being in the New Mexican Territory—too much dust, too much heat…did I mention the dust? Shit covers everything, turning it orange. Open a door or a window and it blows in. Over the years the air in the territory has gotten worse. One administration ignored the issue of global warming while the next one experimented with remedies that failed every time.

  I step into the sunshine and choke on the toxic air. After a few days, breathing through smoke and ash will come easier. Until then, I cover my nose with the sleeve of my fatigues and make a beeline for the hangar door.

  Inside it feels like a thousand degrees cooler. Even this early in the morning, the place is a buzz of activity. Holographic computers are lit up. Civilians huddled over workstations speak with former soldiers. For the most part, no one pays attention to me. Something I appreciate.

  The door to the ready room opens before my hand twists the knob.

  “Good morning, Asher,” announces Steve. “I was about to send someone for you.”

  “It’s, like, still early,” I say as I walk into the room, not looking where I’m going. My mouth opens to say something else when I see Zared, his brow furled, sitting at the table. Definitely too early for this.

  “The prodigal son has returned,” he snarls. A flicker of irritation and impatience shines in his dark eyes.

  Steve ignores Zared’s harsh tone and takes a seat at the head of the table. “I’ve already offered your friend a job with me.”

  “And I told you I’ll consider it.”

  My feet find purchase near the door. Folding my arms, I lean against the wall. “He’ll take it.”

  Zared’s head swings to me. “You don’t speak for me.”

  “Someone should. You have, like, a girlfriend and a baby on the way. You’ll take the job.”

  “A traitor can’t tell me to do shit,” he shoots back.

  “I’m not a fucking traitor,” I shout, jabbing my finger at him as I rush across the floor. Stopping in front of him, I add, “Call me anything you want, but you don’t get to call me that.”

  He jumps to his feet, knocking over the chair. “And you can’t call me friend!”

  Before I can reply, Steve interjects, “Enough! Bot
h of you, sit the fuck down!”

  Zared and I exchange frosty glares but don’t budge.

  “Now!” my step-grandfather shouts.

  Reluctantly, I retreat and find a seat on the opposite side of the table. Steve glances up at Zared. The man slowly sits down.

  “It’s time for the two of you to clear the air,” Steve says. “Zared, you don’t have options. You either work for me or you take your chances on your own. But you’ll do it by yourself. The girl stays with us.”

  Zared’s eyes widen as his palms smack the table. “Like hell! She’s—”

  “Pregnant,” Steve adds. “My conscience will not let her struggle in her condition. If you want the best for her—for your child—then, you take the job.”

  Zared strums his fingers on the table before he slowly bobs his head.

  “Good.” Steve turns to me. “Asher, it’s time you fill Zared in. I need to check on some things.” He pushes to his feet. “Be back in ten minutes.”

  “Like, make it fifteen.”

  “Even better.” He strides to the door.

  When it closes, Zared shoots off his mouth. “There’s nothing you can say—”

  “Stop being a dick!” I stand and go over to the half-full coffee pot. “Look, I’m sorry that I hid who I am for so long.”

  Zared says nothing.

  Facing him with a mug in my hand, I’m tempted to ask if he wants one, but his expression rules that out. Zared’s stormy eyes scream he’d rather bury a bullet in my brain before accepting a cup of joe from me. He holds his chin high while a vein twitches on his temple. Zared’s mouth opens and closes for a minute before he slams it shut. Eventually, words squeeze past his gritted teeth. “How could you keep this from me? You should have been honest with me, with all of us.”

  I shake my head. “You’re, like, kidding me, right? How long did you keep Tru in the dark?” If I remember correctly, he went months before telling her about the mission he was charged with. The truth only came out when Ko slipped up and said too much. “You don’t get to judge me, Zared.”

  “But I didn’t pretend to be someone I’m not,” he answers flatly.

  Unbelievable! I rake a hand through my hair. “Dude, I didn’t have a choice. I’ve been working both sides of the fence for years.”

  “So you’ve been a traitor from the start?”

  I glare at him without blinking. “Like, what did I say about that?”

  He fixes me with his own piercing stare.

  Indignation has never trumped obstinateness. One of us has to give. As the only ranking individual left in the room, I guess it has to be me. Inhaling deeply, I force calm into my lungs. Taking my seat, I say, “Ask your questions. I’ll, like, do my best to answer them.”

  He spits out, “Who the hell are you?”

  That’s right. Let’s start with the most difficult one—the one I’m struggling with the most. “You know me as Asher Nicholas Jones. My family—my grandparents along with my wife and her extended family—know me as Aza Ahmad.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Zared says sharply. “Oh wait… You reserve secret shit for Carter.”

  He’s trying my patience, but I draw in a steadying breath and release it before speaking. “You weren’t around me before I joined the Corps. Mark was, like, there for me when I lost my family and then my girl.”

  The memories of those events—the Street Wars of 2018 and the Great Ebola Pandemic—still haunt me nearly eight years later. Clearing my throat, I continue, “We went through some deep shit together. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have, like, joined the Corps. The man’s like my brother. So, yes, he gets to know the secret shit.”

  Zared, nostrils flaring, remains silent except for his noisy breathing. I take it as a sign to keep going. “Besides, Mark stood up for me at my wedding.”

  “And just how long have you been married?”

  Despite the bitterness in Zared’s voice, the day I married Rihanna is a memory filled with happiness. She wore an elaborate lacy dress. The Fakhoury women wore brightly-colored dresses in a variety of colors. Our ceremony was short, but the celebration lasted for hours. One of the happiest days of my life.

  “I proposed to Rihana when I, like, turned eighteen so it’s been three years. She’s a year older than me, but we had to get permission from her parents—”

  “Shouldn’t that have told you it was wrong?” Zared interjects.

  Wrong? Since when is it wrong to marry someone you love? We weren’t children.

  “We had to get permission,” I say, gritting my teeth, “because I wasn’t Muslim.”

  “So you ditched your own heritage for a girl?”

  I scrub my hand over my face and tell myself to stay calm. We don’t need to fight. Things will get ugly fast. “First off, religion and heritage are not the same thing. That aside, I didn’t ditch anything. I made informed choices.”

  “Sure you did,” Zared mutters and looks away from me.

  “What the hell is your problem, dude? I married a woman I love. We have a beautiful daughter. Frankly, it’s, like, none of your damned business!”

  Zared succeeds in peeling back the scabs on the questions I’ve been struggling with ever since my involvement with Ko, but those are my issues not his. I would have appreciated keeping them hidden, though.

  His head whirls around. “I’m making it my business since you’ve made yourself my personal spokesperson.”

  Touché.

  Time to change the subject. “Zared, you asked me about the Network, and I told you it was a group which splintered from the Alliance. The Network split from the Alliance when members decided overthrowing the government was the only answer.”

  “So.”

  “The Network, as a whole, has been trying to prevent the Alliance from carrying out their plans.”

  “What plans?”

  “Overthrowing the New Order by any means necessary.”

  Zared’s jaw and fist clench at the same time. “And you couldn’t have told me that? Duuude, we’re part of that same damn conspiracy.”

  “No one knew. If anyone found out ahead of time, my family would have been in danger,” I explain.

  He drops his gaze for a moment, and then Zared’s head rocks back with his teeth bared. “Did Mark know?”

  Damn. Why does everything have to boil down to Mark versus him? So what if they share a crappy history. We all can’t have cuddle bunny experiences. But this constant junior high school shit between them has to stop. “Yes, Mark knew.”

  “Of course, he did.” He smirks and shakes his head.

  “Listen, you didn’t have clearance for the intel. Mark and I have been, like, Special Ops for a few years…”

  Shit! Time comes to a screeching halt. I completely forgot that I told Zared it was a recent assignment.

  “Can’t keep your lies straight, A-za?” He delivers my Arabic name with an ugly snarl.

  Thankfully, the door swings open before I can reply to the arrogant fool. Steve’s gaze darts between Zared and me. “We good?”

  Zared hits the table with his palm and stands. “As right as rain, Mr. Winters. I’ll be your goddamned hacker. Wear a fucking suit. I’ll even salute whatever flag you choose. Just don’t leave me alone in another motherfucking room with this asshat. Next time that shit happens, only one of us walks out, and it won’t be your grandson.”

  He stalks to the door and pushes past Steve. We listen to his footsteps pound the concrete floor.

  Steve looks at me with his eyebrows raised. “You tell him everything?”

  “All that I could. Some things he shouldn’t know.”

  “Agreed.” My step-grandfather pauses for a beat or two. “There’s a driver here for you. Go home. See your wife and kid. I’ll deal with Aoki. The two of us are going to have a serious discussion.”

  Laughing, I leave the ready room. I’d love to be a bug listening in on that conversation. It won’t be pretty.

  CHAPTER THREE
>
  “You can’t let your guard down; they’re always watching. They’ll look at how you carry yourself in private and in duty. Watch your actions. Mind your manners. Keep your tone reasonable.”

  —from “Reflections on Riza” by Lt. Asher Nicholas Jones

  Stepping outside, I squint against the harsh sun and see a dust-covered Jeep approaching. When I see whose driving, I grin.

  “Someone said you required a ride.” The voice belongs to a six-foot-four, muscular Hybrid who could pose beside one of those statues in a Cairo museum and hide for days. Specialist Dwayne Fletcher, aka Fletch, aka another Network contact inside Riza.

  Climbing into the vehicle, I strap on my belt and say, “Good to see you, man. Thanks for escorting Aoki and Shepard.”

  “That wasn’t a problem.” He maneuvers the Jeep in a tight circle and heads back to the gate. “Unfortunately, we do have one.”

  “Aoki?”

  “Nope.” Fletcher pops the ‘p’ in the word. “Bashur.”

  “His move on my wife?”

  Fletcher side glances at me. “What the fuck is that about?”

  Apparently, we’re not on the same page of intel. “You first. What problem are you talking about?”

  “He called a meeting this morning. Told the operatives that the mission failed. Said some shit about you being on a Black Hawk that crashed. Rihana thinks you’re dead.”

  Once again, I’m seeing red. Good thing I’m not driving because I’d crash this damn vehicle. Although I fucking hate what Fletcher said, it confirms what Steve said. My so-called compatriot…my goddamned adviser… The man who called himself my friend betrays me.

  “Where is he now?”

  “At the compound.”

  “And Rihana? Viyan?”

  “Safe. Red is with your wife. She wanted to visit her mother. Viyan is with your grandmother.”

  Red? “Who the hell is Red?”

  “New recruit. Former IRA. He had connections to a gun running outlaw MC. Club members ended up in prison.”

  “How the hell did Steve find him?”

  Fletcher chuckles. “Your step-grandfather has connections everywhere. Someone who used to be ATF contacted him.”