Ghost Order

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

CIA Headquarters, Langley.

Brett Fallon, Head of Field Operations, tapped the screen, reading through the decrypted updates from one of his many HUMINT assets on the ground in South America. The continent had been his turf for a few years now, but he had taken over just as the significant action had wound down. The high-profile hunt for Pablo Escobar had ended with him being killed on a Medellín rooftop in 1993 after Fallon’s section in the agency had become embroiled in an ongoing drugs war. Of course, the drug business hadn’t ceased in the slightest. Other cartels had picked up the slack without a blip and Fallon certainly had his work cut out trying to stem the rising flood of drugs reaching the streets of American cities. However, as the media attention had shifted away from the drug war, budget allocations had been reduced even though the threat remained as high as ever.

His computer beeped. It was a reminder alarm for an urgent brief with the Deputy Executive Director, Kate Foster. He wondered what it was all about. Fallon himself reported directly to the Deputy Director for Operations, Greg Reinhart, a pay grade below Foster, so this was a rarity.

After another five minutes, he logged out of the terminal, shut everything down and headed off towards the East Wing, via the coffee station.

A shakeup, that’s all it could be, he thought. The management and pen-pushers were moving personnel like chess pieces vying for some obscure organisational advantage and that – most likely – meant bad news for him and his current set-up.

He approached a ramped metal walkway that led to the SCIF (sensitive compartmented information facility) that kept listening electronic ears at bay in an encased “bubble”, as it was nicknamed.

After swiping his pass key through the access portal, Fallon walked into the elongated meeting room where his superior and Foster stood talking at the far end in front of a large blank monitor screen affixed to the wall.

“Mr Fallon. Thanks for joining us,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs at the top of the table.

Fallon gave Reinhart a “what’s going on?” look, which was ignored, and slipped into the chair. The superiors took their seats and Reinhart tapped a few keys on his laptop that booted the screen monitor into action, lighting up the blank screen with a Top Secret CIA emblem.

“Naturally, it goes without saying none of what we’re discussing today leaves this room, Mr Fallon,” said Foster.

“Naturally,” Fallon replied.

Satisfied, Foster indicated to Reinhart to continue with a nod.

Reinhart pushed a file across the table to Fallon and gave him a moment to open it up.

“Some big changes are happening in the intelligence community,” Foster began, fixing Fallon with her green eyes. “For some time we’ve been aware of the infrastructure being put into place for a new global agency: G13COMM. Reinhart will bring you up to speed.” She turned to Reinhart, who clicked his mouse revealing a covertly taken photograph of a mousy looking man with reddish hair getting out of a car.

Reinhart cleared his throat. “This is Carl Paterson, head of a small, secretive set-up in Britain that started as an alliance between the British secret service and GCHQ while on the hunt for a whistleblower last year. The group is codenamed Ghost 13.” Reinhart sipped his water, changing the slide to a photo of an older US military man with short white hair. “This is Colonel Dean Wexhall, originally attached to U.S. Army Special Operations. He is now detailed with running what is known as Operation Darkwood: the creation of a new agency – G13COMM – with intelligence and military capabilities that will swallow up the British operation, effectively merging them. Yes, Brett?”

Brett had leaned forward, opening his mouth to speak. “So Ghost 13 was originally a Brit creation and now it’s set to expand under Wexhall?”

“Correct, except the agency is already up and running from what we understand,” Foster clarified.

Brett nodded. He assumed they had an asset inside to have this up-to-date information.

“So, what is the mission for this new agency?”

“We don’t know everything. There’s a very tight lid on it, and this is pretty much all we can share with you at the moment.”

Foster and Reinhart both fixed eyes on Fallon.

“You will need to hand over all your current operations to Lisa Graham and focus on uncovering as much detail on Darkwood and G13COMM as possible. I’m sure Graham will do an excellent job,” said Foster.

“Wait a minute. I’m up to my eyes right now. I can’t just abandon assets in the field—”

“You’re not abandoning anyone,” Reinhart interjected. “Graham has the skill set to take over your role.”

Fallon shook his head. “She needs more time.”

Reinhart and Foster exchanged glances.

“Then you will need to split roles. This is a priority. I’m sure I don’t need to spell out that any rival intelligence group like G13COMM is going to be bleeding budget dollars away from us.”

“You’re saying the Agency is under threat from that tin-pot operation?” Fallon waved a hand at the screen, dismissively.

“That ‘tin-pot operation’ has some very powerful backers. We’re not here to argue with you, Mr Fallon.”

Fallon sighed. He was right. Someone was playing chess.

“Alright. What do you want me to do, exactly?”