The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,23
out of bed to be shouted at by the boss, but I’d kinda like to get back to sleep now.’
‘We’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever damn day it is in DC,’ Tony told him. Levon grinned, then the screen went dark. ‘Okay, Adam, Holly Jo – let’s get back to it.’
‘Whoa, a three-way,’ said Kyle, smirking at Holly Jo as she stood.
She sighed and gestured towards the emergency exit. ‘Can I kick him out of that hatch?’
Tony smiled. ‘If you take care of the paperwork.’ He led the way back down the cabin, pausing as he reached Albion. ‘Roger, is this friend of yours really good enough to take your place?’
‘Oh, nobody’s good enough to do that,’ Albion whispered, with a feeble smile. ‘But she has the right background in medicine and psychology, and has . . . a good handle on people. I think she’ll be able to fill in until I’m back on my feet.’
‘You make sure that doesn’t take too long, okay?’
‘Get well soon, Roger,’ Holly Jo added.
Adam, behind her, said nothing, staring down at Albion in silence. For a brief moment his eyes widened, taking on the intensity – and anger – of Syed’s gaze . . . but then it faded.
Only Tony had noticed. ‘I think we need to finish the debriefing,’ he said quietly.
Adam looked at him, face now blank. ‘I think you’re right.’
The following hours saw the jet pass over the Arctic wastes of Greenland and Canada, cruising above Quebec and New York State before beginning its descent towards the eastern seaboard. The debriefing was finally concluded. Every secret Syed knew about the terrorist organisation’s operations and members had been exposed, the Pakistani’s memories picked clean.
Now it was time for another kind of cleansing.
Adam emerged from a washroom, drawing a double-take from Holly Jo. ‘Wow. I almost didn’t recognise you,’ she said, only half joking.
Toradze’s moustache was gone, the black dye rinsed out to return Adam’s hair to its natural dark brown. Even his eyes had changed, the piercing blue of the Georgian’s gaze a softer grey now that the contact lenses had been removed. The expensive clothing had also been replaced by an unremarkable shirt and slacks, the gold jewellery returned to an evidence bag.
Shorn of the arms dealer’s distinguishing marks, what remained was . . . anonymous. Had random onlookers been asked to describe Adam Gray after glimpsing him in a crowd, that would have been the recurring word. He was handsome enough in a way that could charitably have been described as ‘generic’, none of his features particularly distinctive. Even his background was hard to determine; most of the hypothetical onlookers would have thought him Caucasian, but the more observant might have picked out other traits. Some Hispanic ancestry? Persian, perhaps, or Arabic? It was impossible to be sure.
‘It’s an improvement,’ said Tony, looking up. The other team members were in various states of sleep throughout the cabin. ‘Welcome back.’
‘Not quite yet.’ Adam held up the case containing Albion’s medical equipment. ‘There’s one more thing to do.’
‘You don’t want to let it happen naturally?’ Holly Jo asked. ‘You look exhausted – you’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours. You really need some sleep.’
‘I want Syed’s persona wiped.’ There was a tinge of disgust to his otherwise flat voice. ‘Now.’
Tony looked towards Albion. ‘Will it be safe without Roger to work out the amount?’
‘It’s a standard dose.’
Tony hesitated, then took the case. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure. I don’t want this guy’s thoughts in my head any more.’
The two men went to the rear cabin. Adam sat and tugged down his shirt collar as Tony took out the jet injector. ‘Is this set?’
‘Yes. Do it.’
Tony cautiously placed the nozzle against Adam’s neck and pulled the trigger. Adam flinched, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Tony waited, counting thirty seconds on his watch. ‘Adam? You okay?’
‘Yes.’ He slowly opened his eyes. ‘Do a memory check. I want to be sure he’s gone.’
‘Okay. Let’s see . . . what year did Syed go on the Hajj?’
‘That was . . . 2005.’ Adam caught Tony’s dismay. ‘No, it’s okay – that came up during the debriefing, remember? When you asked how he first met Fathi. If we pulled it out of his memory, now I remember it too.’
‘Sorry.’
‘No problem. Ask something else.’
‘How about . . . the name of Syed’s first imam when he was a kid.’