Declan returned the level gaze, studying the other man closely. He appeared the same. Closed up. Expressionless. He remembered the earlier years when that face was unguarded, especially when he talked about traveling and seeing the world, but as the years went by, with all the training, he’d become more remote every time they’d crossed paths.
With someone like Jed McNeil, one had to always be on one’s toes. There were two choices whenever he dealt with the assassin. Attack or be pursued. He chose the former.
“It’s been—what—five or six years?” Dec said. “You disappeared from COMCEN and then word was, you reappeared after a year. What, were you afraid they’d replace you with a new Supersoldier Spy?”
He kept his voice lightly mocking. Back in the day, McNeil had been in a program called VIRUS, also privately dubbed Supersoldier Spy. However, there was a new game in town and Declan was privy to the fact that someone else was now being trained with that ridiculous title. He had an idea who the trainer was, but that information was top, top FYEO secret only a few people could confirm under threat of death. He watched with interest the slight lift of the corners of McNeil’s mouth.
“You’re just sore external contractors weren’t allowed to compete for a chance to get the program,” Jed said in his soft tone, the slight Irish lilt in his voice, signaling his relaxed state. If an assassin was ever relaxed, that was. Sometimes, when they’d met in the middle of an operation, Jed would speak to him in a different accent or not at all, remaining in character even in private.
Back to the so-called “program.” All the government agencies had sent in one or two top operatives to be vigorously trained and to compete against one another. The winning agency received all the funding for the Supersoldier Spy Program. Declan had been intrigued with the addendum that the operative had to have “alternate mental” skills, besides that of soldiering and spying, as the FYEO papers he had viewed had called it. “Alternate skills” must involve something called the ability to enter “remote-viewing state.”
That had stopped him in his tracks. Remote viewing? Didn’t that run out of style with the government since those other weirdo secret projects like alien DNA testing and hallucinatory drugging of soldiers? But millions of dollars of funding was the reward and the cynical part of him knew certain agencies just wanted to win so they could allocate the money somewhere else in their own various programs. But from what he’d heard, there was definitely a candidate who had gone beyond expectations during the training and competition stages.
“True,” he acknowledged, “but I’m surprised. What would you do with a remote viewing skill in virtual reality, McNeil? And why would your scientist be talking with mine about anything virtual?”
There it was. A narrowing of the eyes. It was a stab in the dark and he’d drawn a little blood. It was just a guess. His contacts had told him of the extensive virtual reality toys being created and experimented with at DARPA for COMCEN.
McNeil bounced the ball once. Twice. “A special exoskeleton suit is a nice weapon to own, isn’t it? I’d imagine a securities firm with government connections and private funding for science projects would attract many enemy eyes sooner or later. Imagine my supersoldier spy and your version of the exoskeleton.” His silver eyes challenged Declan to deny it. His voice hardened slightly. “Imagine our secrets in the hands of the enemies.”
Declan schooled his expression. So, they too had been working on creating a special exoskeleton. Not a surprise. Everyone copied everyone in their race for science. And weaponry too. However, his hospital and its location was top secret and now he knew Jed McNeil knew about this. Damn sonofabitch always cut a little deeper.
“But you asked to see me, my friend,” McNeil continued. “I’m all ears.” He threw the ball at him, adding. “Make a hoop, get a point. Isn’t that how we always play this game?”
