me hobbies and a social life beyond the job,” David said, wary of the inevitable catch. “I’m sure you didn’t design this position for me.”
Casey seemed to sigh without making a sound. “I want some long-range plans in place before I retire. Every day we hear more chatter about strikes aimed our way. Placing dedicated assets in key areas is the best way to safeguard our interests and prevent the loss of innocent lives.
“This is a lifetime placement. You’ll still be a Specialist and expected to report as you would on any other mission,” Casey went on. “If and when we encounter problems in Charleston or the general region, you’ll be called to help.”
Sounded too good to be true, and still David was interested. “Count me in.”
“All right.” Casey’s nod showed more grit than approval or enthusiasm. “Charleston has a few choice targets from the ports to the nuclear school, to the prison at the Naval Weapons Station.”
David’s background and skills would be a more natural fit in any one of those places. He waited, stifling his rising curiosity, to hear the reason he was headed for a desk job inside the hospital instead.
“Intel has confirmed an immediate threat potential at MUSC. A research scientist has been working on implanted devices that could change the way we track criminals and people involved with terrorist actions. Despite precautions, word is out that he’s nearly perfected the biotech. Naturally, as a matter of national security, we keep a close eye on things like this. The most recent reports indicate a terrorist cell might—I emphasize that for a reason—have a way to get close to him. We’re working to clarify who knows what.”
At the director’s urging, David opened the manila folder and skimmed through the doctor’s background. The official head shot for Dr. Franklin Palmer was accompanied by an extensive list of degrees, publications and apparent accomplishments.
“If you take this placement,” Casey explained, “we’ll get you inserted at the hospital and find a house for you near a nurse who works at MUSC. The nurse has a close personal connection to Dr. Palmer.”
David glanced up from the page outlining Palmer’s early project. “These results are amazing.”
“Yes,” Casey agreed. “Unless the technology falls into the hands of our enemies.”
“That’s where I come in?”
“Primarily. You’ll need to befriend the nurse, Terri Barnhart.” He signaled for David to flip to a marker in the file. “We can’t afford to let anyone use her as leverage against Palmer. Her brother went missing in early September, a month after he started college at Northern Arizona University. She reported him missing to local authorities when she became aware of the situation, but the investigation never really went anywhere.”
David studied the candid picture of the nurse and her brother at what must have been move-in day. He noticed that Trey Barnhart at twenty-two was older than the average freshman. The stat made him curious. “For an adult, with no sign of foul play, why bother?”
“That would be why the investigation stalled out,” Casey replied. “It seems the brother just gave up and walked away from school one day. Left all his personal belongings behind in his dorm room.”
“Your sources say there’s more to it?”
“Possibly,” Casey allowed. “We don’t have solid proof, but we think he’s been picked up by a group called Rediscover near Sedona.”
“Lots of New Age stuff out that way,” David said.
Casey nodded. “This group can’t seem to figure out if they’re a peace-preaching cult or a terrorist cell. The public rhetoric centers on self-discovery, independence and less government. According to the few people who’ve parted ways with the group, the deeper you go in the process, the more you learn about the conspiracy theories and ugly intentions at the core. The financials are suspicious. A few questionable deals, some protests, along with a list of shady associates, has put them on the watch list.”
“History of violence?”
“Yes. They are violent and very thorough. If Rediscover’s leaders know about Dr. Palmer’s research, they would’ve done their homework. Recruiting Trey Barnhart could give them the access or leverage they need to interfere with the project.”
“Pretty convenient having someone connected to the doctor show up for school in Flagstaff.”
“Exactly. My team has been playing catch-up on this, trying to pinpoint if the group targeted Trey from the beginning. It’s all in the file.”
David closed the folder and drummed his fingertips on it, weighing the options. “Sounds like I tell my family I’ve changed jobs. They’ll be thrilled I’m relocating to Charleston. Close enough to visit on every holiday.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“Not a bit.” David shrugged. “I’ve had three decades of practice dealing with my sisters. I’m less sure about becoming a home owner.” When Casey arched an eyebrow, he quickly added, “Just kidding. If you want me in Charleston, that’s where I’ll be. Any rules on communications?”
“The typical mission parameters will be in place,” Casey explained. “You can always call in if there’s a problem. We’ll provide new intel as it comes in. You’ll be on the front lines, but the Specialists will always have your back.”
“And after you retire?”
“You won’t be forgotten. My replacement will be fully briefed on your ongoing mission.”
“Guess I’d better pack and tell my landlord I’m out.”
“Take another minute,” Casey cautioned. “This is a serious, permanent commitment that will last far beyond Dr. Palmer’s project. I won’t think any less of you if you turn it down.”
David wanted to accept the post immediately. Instead, he took the director’s advice and stood and crossed the well-appointed office to the window. He shoved his hands into his pockets and just soaked up the view. Several stories below, beyond a heavy tree line, the cityscape sparkled on the horizon. “I won’t be mopping floors?” he asked without turning.
Casey chuckled. “No. We’re working you into the human resources department.”
David absorbed that detail, though he’d made his decision when the director mentioned Charleston. He hadn’t been there in years, but he had fond memories. His biggest concern was whether or not he could handle the routine of a nine-to-five job. He’d started working at the age of eleven mowing yards and washing cars. When he’d learned to scuba dive he’d worked his way through high school and college leading dive tours and helping with rescues. The closest he’d come to a normal job had been his time with the Coast Guard. There had been daily routines and drills, but the work had never been static or boring.
It was Charleston, he thought, shifting his focus. The day job wasn’t the point; it was the cover. Between the real mission and the area in general, if the day job dragged there would always be something to keep him busy after hours. He turned around, walked back to Casey’s desk and eyed the closed folder. “I’m in.”
Casey stood and reached across the desk to shake
