Leviathan

"Every American knew this day would come, and now it has. If they didn't stop whoever this was, a hundred years of ignoring the earth was about to come back and haunt them. Now pay attention. Pete, we're calling an event for in-house personnel only, and from this moment on, I want you to order Europa to close the complex. No external communication is to be allowed. I want cell frequencies jammed, and all passes revoked. Captain Everett and his team are the only exceptions, and I hate to say this, but I even want his phone monitored while off base. Shut down the gates; turn off communications for the pawnshop. Keep it open, but seal the elevator into the tunnel." He looked at Alice. "All senior department members are to be escorted by security and will be quarantined in the main conference room for the duration of the FBI's and our department's operation. Pete, use my terminal and order Europa to seal the complex."

Golding did as he was ordered.

Alice and Virginia exchanged looks. Never had the Event Group gone to such a total lockdown over security.

"Now, let's find out who attacked us, shall we?" Niles said with a nod.

"And find out who our traitor is," Pete added.

THE GOLD CITY PAWNSHOP,

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

The old man went unnoticed at the city bus stop for the hour he had been sitting. His aluminum walker was perched in front of him--just an old man resting his aged body.

His keen eyes were watching the shop across the street. He had thus far not recognized one employee at the Gold City Pawnshop. The heat was almost intolerable, but the man sat and acted as though the sun were a blessing.

Suddenly his eyes picked up something inside the shop that made him move his head so his vision could pass across the plate-glass window in the front of the store. He coughed as he finally recognized a familiar face. He had run into this man on more than one occasion in the past, and knew him to be a favorite of his superior officers. His computerlike memory flashed back to two years before in the Arizona desert, and then again last year in the heat of the Amazon. He became satisfied as the black man's name came to mind: Mendenhall--Staff Sergeant Mendenhall. It was comforting knowing that certain things had not changed in the year he had been ... away.

The old man rose clumsily to his feet and used the aluminum walker, leaning heavily upon it as he slowly crossed the busy street. A car honked and swerved to the other lane, but the old man was intent on the pawnshop in front of him. The black man inside looked up at the sound of the horn, and he quickly moved to open the door.

Second Lieutenant Will Mendenhall held the door for the man, who nodded his head in thanks. The old man had not known the former sergeant had received his second lieutenant's bar after the Amazon mission.

"Car almost got ya there," Will said as he quickly let the door close behind the man and looked at his watch. He could see the deeply etched wrinkles and figured the old gentleman was at least eighty years old. His white moustache was well trimmed, and for someone his age he had expressive blue eyes.

"I wanted to throw my walker at the smart-ass bastard, but then what would I have done?"

"Yeah, wouldn't have blamed you, people around here are in a hurry to get to nowhere," Will commented. "Well, what can I help you with?"

The old man raised his right liver-spotted hand off the walker in a mock surrender.

"Son, you have me. I ... I just wanted to feel this air-conditioning for a moment before I head back out to that damn bus stop. Missed the last one--hell, I fell right to sleep."

Mendenhall smiled and nodded his head, "You bet. If you want there's a seat up by the counter." He looked at his watch again, knowing that Captain Everett had called him five minutes ago and ordered him off gate 2 duties. "Right now I have to clock out and get out of here."

"I thank you, but right here's fine with me. The air is cool and I can see that damn bus comin' through the window, but thanks anyway, son."

Will was just turning away when the old man's other hand slipped from the walker and he started to fall. Will reached out quickly and caught the man, who was far heavier than he looked.

"Whoa, you okay?" he asked, stabilizing the man.

The old man reached out, grabbed Mendenhall's forearm, and expertly placed the tracking device, which was no larger than a microbe and was injected by what seemed to be just a jagged piece of the old man's ring. Mendenhall felt the jab and reacted with a hiss.

"Oh, my ... oh ... I'm sorry. This old wedding band's seen better days." The man finally grabbed hold of the handles to his walker as Will rubbed the underside of his forearm. "Wife's been dead for the better part of eleven years now; just been too lazy to take the ragged thing off." He reached into his pant pocket and drew out a handkerchief. "Got a little scratch there, better wipe it clean."