Clover Four: Rendezvous Tomorrow (Episode 1: Chernobyl)

Alex Cross woke up abruptly to the obnoxious sound of his cell
phone’s vintage ringtone, grumbled a bit and rolled off of the stiff cot
upon which he’d been sleeping; the glow of his cell phone’s screen
illuminated the digital clock–it was approximately 4:22 a.m., and an
unforgiving thunderstorm was raging outside. Above the LCD-font clock
was the caller ID information, which it included an image of a young
Caucasian man in his late twenties with a neatly-trimmed beard and
mustache, sporting a pair of thin-rimmed glasses and a neat haircut, and
the name “Assistant Director Knowles”. Cross let out a sharp exhale and
rubbed his eyes as he picked up the phone and pressed the glowing
“SEND” button to answer the call.

Alex: Cross.

Director Knowles: Interesting that you answered the phone with your real identity this time, Mr. Cross.

Alex: No games, Martin–it’s four in the morning.

Director Knowles: You will address me as Director
Knowles; I don’t play by the buddy-buddy rules that Director Collins
played by. I prefer to maintain a level of professionalism between
myself and those I employ.

Alex: I don’t answer to you.

Director Knowles: Sorry to shock you, but as of the
release of joint NSA and CIA warrants for you and the other members of
the Clover Four platform, I am in full control. I’m your boss now.

Alex: And Director Collins?

Director Knowles: He’s been removed from his
position temporarily and placed under protective custody pending the
investigation into his efforts and the overall actions of the members
and missions associated with the Clover Four platform.

Alex: You won’t find me or anyone else without
Director Collins’ help; he gave us strict orders to disperse upon the
completion of our last mission in Europe and not reconvene until he sent
for us with a specific rendezvous.

Director Knowles: Yes we know–he freely volunteered
that little piece of information to us with extreme confidence that we
would never find any of the Clover Four. However, I’m not here to
discuss your last team mission, codenamed “London Night”, but
rather to discuss your personal missions–solo missions, rather–and their
anything-but-relative natures. You know what I’m talking about, Alex,
so don’t play dumb. We hacked into the Clover Four’s IT servers, and
with a warrant we obtained, we gathered tons of files specific to you
and your solo missions around the globe.

Alex: If you’re only interested in me, why are you
pursuing the other Clovers? If all you wanted was to talk to me, then
you’d leave them out of this.

Director Knowles: I’m afraid that’s not even an
option, Cross; your actions in collaboration with Director Collins have
tainted the overall perception and integrity once associated with the
Clover Four; all of you must be questioned and evaluated if the
investigation is to continue, and in the end, the CIA will determine
whether or not the Clover Four should remain, or be permanently
decommissioned.

Alex: Yeah…keep telling yourself that this is why you’re pursuing us so hard.

Director Knowles: What are you getting at, Cross?

Alex: I was there when they were making the
decisions to initiate the program back in ’03; I stood right next to the
Secretary of Defense when he chose Director Reginald Collins as Chief
Director over the Clover Four global tactics and operations platform–a
job you wanted and didn’t deserve, because your own credibility was
challenged when your name came up on a list of possible CIA
double-agents. Are they still rubber-gloving you on that?

Director Knowles: I’m not here to discuss the
agency–I’m here to discuss your terrorist actions and overall suspicious
dealings that you and Reginald Collins call “missions”. As far as I’m
concerned, the whole lot of you Grey Berets need to be lined up and
shot–especially you, and if she were here, Natio Kirsten! How did you
even find her?!

Alex: Director Collins had a contact in Russia
following Intel from an asset in Chernobyl, stating that one of our CIA
operatives there with the President was actually a sleeper-cell employed
by the RLA–Rogue Liberation Army–who was supposed to kill the Russian
Prime Minister and frame the United States, incurring a war in which
they could operate their army and acquire nukes under the guise of a
“for hire” special force, with a military contract. They were going to
play both sides of the war, catch both sides off-guard and take over two
countries. Natio Kirsten was the only existing Clover in Russia, and
Director Collins sent me to accompany her.

Director Knowles: What was the mission?

Alex: It should be in the files you
stole–”Operation: Snowrazor”–a reconnaissance venture into a known RLA
hangout inside of an abandoned military welding complex on the outskirts
of Chernobyl. We were supposed to go in, find out what they had and who
was in command, and report back to Director Collins. There wasn’t even
supposed to be any casualties.

Director Knowles: Yeah, but that’s not what happened, was it?

Alex: On a mission we always consider the
possibilities of variables entering the equation–if you’re asking
whether or not Natio and I went in armed, then I’m telling you that we
did. We carried silenced 357 Magnums and army knives, along with our
equipment for hacking into their computer networks to establish the
automatic data relays that would keep us updated on whatever progress
the RLA made.

Director Knowles: So you’re saying you didn’t go in there to kill anyone, yet you went armed?

Alex: Look Knowles–it’s easy to sit in your chair
and judge the missions from your twisted views, but you weren’t there. I
was there–I know what happened!

Director Knowles: Good, then you’ll have no problems
recollecting this mission over the phone for me, right? I’m recording
this conversation for records anyways, so it might actually help your
case since you’re reluctant to come in and talk to us in person.

Alex: Nice to know you care.

Director Knowles: Just for the record, you were going by the alias Axman Quarral during the time you were with Natio Kirsten, right?

Alex: Correct.

Director Knowles: Okay, that matches the file. Alright Clover One, Alex Cross; give me the story.

Alex: Fine; you already know why we were there,
and how we got there really doesn’t matter unless you have a thing for
long, in-depth explanations of 24-hour plane rides and express jets. I
arrived in Russia as planned, met up with Natio at the airport and
proceeded directly to her safe house in the city; we spent the afternoon
going over schematics of the complex, memorized our plan, geared up and
waited for nightfall.

                                     Chernobyl, 2012

Cross slowly pulled back the thick-material gloves onto his hands,
making sure there wasn’t any space for them to slide or slip and
examined the cut-off index finger slot for rips or tears, and then
nodded over at Natio who had just climbed down after him from the rope
suspended from the specially-designed stealth chopper, and crouched not
far from him in a  snowy clearing on the edge of a small wooded area.
She was a native Russian girl of 23, with long red hair, gentle features
and a good figure, and as much as Cross knew about her being a superb
Clover operating solo, when he looked at her he saw someone resembling a
college student or everyday type of girl. She glanced at him a couple
of times as she checked her small equipment bag and secured it across
her shoulder, her silenced Magnum in-hand and ready. Cross followed
suit, taking his weapon in-hand as they began an even-paced jog towards
the snow-stripped trunks of the thin, frozen trees en-route to their
first objective. “Director Collins to Clover One and Clover Six; alright
you two know the deal–quick in-and-out, and casualties are not a part
of your mission,” Director Collins transmitted, his voice picking up in
their tiny ear-communicators. “Copy that, sir,” Natio answered silently
from behind Cross, followed by “we’ll do our best.” Up ahead, the
ghostly lights of the welding complex shone through the dirty,
frost-covered windows on the complex’s second level, followed by the
gleam of a 10-foot-high wire fence, topped with looping lines of barbed
wire. Cross held a fist back towards Natio signaling for her to stop,
and began to toggle with the rather thin and waterproff vision
goggleset, which resembled a cross between swimming goggles and sporty
sunglasses, and stayed secured on his head with a complex system of
waterproof elastic-lock bands. It had four primary modes–thermal, night,
binocular, and EM vision–and they had just arrived prior to the
mission, replacing their old, bulky gogglesets. He slowly turned the
small dial-like knob on the left side of the goggleset to the right and
covered his eyes with the two dark lenses; Natio took  the chance to
readjust her hairband. “Make sure you let me know how they look so I can
tell Hajmir; he gets all of my equipment here fast, cheap, easy,” she
stated, attempting to make conversation with Cross, but he inadvertently
dodged the attempt as the goggleset came to life with a thermal
reading. “Looks like our job’s gonna be a lot easier than we expected;
nobody’s guarding the fence,” he concluded, scrolling the dial to the
left twice. Natio rolled her eyes, tightened her ponytail and took up
her handgun once more; Cross’ goggleset now displayed night vision,
which registered the snow’s reflection as a bright white blur and
obstructed his view of the complex altogether. “Night vision will be
useless here; the snow is reflecting too much light so we’d better stick
with thermal,” he detailed, turning to look at Natio as he lifted the
goggleset temporarily.

“What do you mean ‘we’? I’m not wearing those things right now.”

“Why not?”

“Until we’ve gone through a mission without them malfunctioning, I wont wear them.”

“What are you gonna do, then? Play ‘I-spy’ in the dark?”

Natio let out a large smile and started to move towards the compound
cautiously, disregarding the remark. Cross took up his weapon and
followed her uniformly, searching the surroundings with his naked eyes
first as they approached the end of the wooded area and entered a
cleared-out snow bank between the trees and the border fence. “I’ll keep
watch with my own two eyes–I trust them better than any machine; you
can play ‘I-spy’,” Natio whispered to him, crossing the bank into
knee-deep snow and crouching near the fence. Cross looked around one
last time before trotting through the sharp, icy snow to cover her while
she’d already begun to cut the fence with a small pair of
specially-designed diamond-edged wire cutters. “I’m telling you these
goggle will help you on your missions,” Cross campaigned once more,
hoping to persuade Natio to wear her goggleset, but she refused to budge
from her original position. “I trust my eyes over those rediculous
things,” she snapped playfully, working her cutters across the fence
quickly.

“I bet I’ll see more with the goggleset than you will without them tonight.”

“You’re on; person with the most hostile counts, wins; Collins will keep track.”

“Fine; doubles don’t count–if we say it at the same time, nobody gets the point.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Cross.”

With a few more cuts, Natio had created a circular opening large
enough for them to slide through easily, and had already slipped through
it herself; Cross held it open until she made it within the complex’s
perimeter and then crawled through afterwards.  “Collins, it’s Quarral;
we’ve made it inside the perimeter,” Cross radioed promptly. Natio
motioned for him to follow, and he did so without hesitation as her
quick, light footsteps crunched on the thick layers of snow covering the
ground. They had infiltrated from the west, facing the concrete and
metal building to their east with dozens of smaller warehouses scattered
to their left and right–south and north. Up ahead on the east wall was a
simple service door that Cross assumed would be locked, however, but
Natio approached it slowly and went into her gear bag.  “Cover me,” she
whispered as she removed her lock pick and a small thin wire about a
quarter of an inch thick and 12 inches in length. After plugging the
wire into a small gadget on her right arm, she commenced to working on
the lock, meanwhile Cross slid the goggleset back over his eyes and kept
watch over the open snow behind them.

“Come in, Quarral and Natio; it’s Collins. Once you’re inside, remain
invisible and get that relay hack established as soon as you can–the
sooner we can manage the progression of the RLA, the sooner we can start
doing what we can to take them down. Speaking of which, I don’t have to
remind you to keep the body count at zero as much as you can help it–no
direct contact. Collins out.”

“Copy that, Collins,” Cross answered, and seconds later Natio had
finally finished picking the lock and opened the door. The lights were
off inside the room except for a dim lamp in the far right corner
between a work desk and a brown door with a small window on the parallel
wall, and the rest of the room to the left was constructed like a
makeshift bedroom with a small cot, and a bookshelf wildly stacked with
books and loose paper. The room, however, was empty. “Ladies first,”
Cross jeered in a low tone at Natio, who rolled her eyes and entered the
room without a recoil on his comment; Cross entered and shut the door,
making sure to lock it again. “Whomever occupies this room does a ton of
research–without a computer,” Natio whispered as she began to search
the desk. Cross activated the night vision on his goggleset and crept
over to the opposite side of the room to search the messy bookshelf  for
details. Right off-hand, he noticed the first row of books were in
English, and had topics ranging from the study of electromagnetic pulses
and piezoelectric transducers, to physics and biographies on nuclear
physicists and their work; it didn’t take much for him to realize that
this room was occupied by someone either high up in the ranks of the
RLA–or a purchased high-value neutral party with knowledge of nuclear
chemistry. “Hey Quarral, I’ve got something here–a name–Kaezsaq
Pyirrtz,” Natio whispered, holding up a piece of paper.

“Collins, I need you to run a search on a name–Kaezsaq Pyirrtz–K-A-E-Z-S-A-Q, and P-Y-I-R-R-T-Z.”

“Got it, Natio; I’m on it.”

Cross carefully placed all the books back where they were on the
shelf and moved over towards Natio, who eagerly handed him the piece of
paper she had been holding. On it was the schematic for an airplane-like
device with several defensive features including twin machine gun
mounts near the cockpit, 4 hellfire missiles, 2 bunker-buster
missiles–and a large underside compartment marked “Nuclear payload”.
Cross examined the schematics once more, finding the title “Sparrow
Hawk” along with Pyirrtz’s name in the bottom-right corner, and suddenly
realized that what he was looking at wasn’t a plane at all. “Did you
already scan this in?” he asked Natio, lifting his goggleset for a
better view. “Sure did; I figured Collins would wanna know they’re
building jets that carry miniature nukes out here,” she replied,
checking her digital watch, “but those modifications–air-sealed and
welded cockpit, optional pressure-jet or fuel propulsion, sonar and
ladar–they don’t fit your average jet.” Cross picked up a second piece
of paper on the desk labeled “Overview” and began reading it silently to
himself; halfway through, his eyes widened in alarm and he quickly
scanned the document by pressing a small red button on the right side of
his goggleset. “We need to hurry up and get that relay hack in place;
we’re gonna have to stay updated with the RLA at all times–no errors,”
he asserted in a serious tone. “Why–because of the jet?” Natio
questioned curiously.

“It’s not a jet, Natio. It’s an amphibious drone.”