Freedom (TM)

Before long the Land Cruiser pulled up to a tired-looking brick administration building done in art deco style. Some of the windows were boarded up, but there were several generator trailers nearby with thick black cables ru

They saluted The Major as he walked into a musty-smelling hallway, the Colonel leading the way.

“Ag, you caught me just coming back from an inspection on those Slovak bastards. They got shot up pretty good. We’re missing a few.”

The Colonel brought them down the vandalized but recently patched hallway, gesturing to the far end. “We’re back here. Not much to look at.”

They passed several sets of uniformed guards, and each office they passed was filled with command staff and lots and lots of laptops, radios, and satellite phones. Officers were busy orchestrating the movements of strike teams and making sure all necessary materiel was arriving as and when needed.

“Did they ever find that Loki fella who kept messin’ with your schedule?”

The Major shook his head. “He’s still MIA, but it’s too late for him to stop this—even if he has any power left.”

In a few moments they reached the end of the corridor and entered what was most likely the old base commander’s office, replete with a secretarial anteroom. There, a uniformed male assistant was pecking away at a laptop, while two high-strung-looking men in immaculate casual business attire stood up from folding chairs the moment the hulking South African colonel stepped through the door.

The first of these men had on an expensive-looking, large-faced chronometer and an impressive tan to go with it. He extended his hand to Andriessen. “Colonel Andriessen, I’m Nathan Sanborn, chief executive officer and chairman of Halperin Organix.” He offered his embossed business card and pointed to the other man, who carried a small black attaché case. “This is Sanjay Venkatachalapthy, our senior counsel.”

The Colonel laughed. “Ag, you’re bloody joking, right? This kefir’s got more name than a German viscount.” He looked to his assistant. “Corporal, are we letting anyone into my office now? How did these men find me?”

“Colonel, these gentlemen are well-co

Sanborn interjected himself. “Look, I’ve been speaking with General Horvath and Admiral Collins—I think there’s a grave misunderstanding, gentlemen. I’ve been trying to get someone on the phone or to reply in e-mail for a week now, and I don’t appreciate having my calls dodged.” He gestured to the office. “Can we speak in private, please?”

The Colonel looked to The Major. The Major didn’t budge or respond.

The Colonel turned back to Sanborn. “We’ve got urgent business to attend to, Mr. Sanborn. Everyone here is cleared top secret. Everyone but you.”

Sanborn looked like he considered getting angry, but decided against it. With one more glance around he threw up his hands. “All right then. I’ve been given to understand that the blatant patent infringement being perpetrated against my firm is being used as a pretext for what can only be described as a paramilitary police action.”

“It’s not your concern, Mr. Sanborn.”

“No. That’s where you’re wrong—and by the way, I’m not entirely comprehending why you’re South African. Why is a South African in charge of what’s going on here? This is Missouri, not Capetown, Colonel Andriessen.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a racist, Mr. Sanborn. We Africans have had a long struggle against such prejudice.” The Colonel chuckled and looked at The Major.

Sanborn fumed.

The Colonel continued. “The global economy provides for a efficient competition. You of all people should appreciate that.”

“So what I’m not understanding is whether this is a government operation or—what is going on here?”

“Get on your fancy jet and leave, Mr. Sanborn.”

Sanborn got into the Colonel’s face—or at least his neck, given the Colonel’s height. “I’m not some pipsqueak you can push around, Colonel. I’ve got a thirty-billion-dollar company and a fiduciary responsibility to defend both its brand and its reputation.” He gestured to the nearby lawyer. “Both of which we fully intend to protect.”

“So you’re going to sic your lawyers on us then, Nate? Is that it? Every syllable of Mr. Venk-kachanky-whatever here?”

“I am deadly serious, Colonel. We have significant influence in Washington.”

The Major looked at his watch. “We’ve got a timeline to meet, Colonel.”

Sanborn pointed. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The Colonel interposed himself. “Surely this conversation can wait, Nate.”

“No. It ca

The Major pushed the Colonel out of the way and got right back into Sanborn’s face. “Not authorized? Listen, you Ivy League prick, you don’t determine what is and isn’t authorized. Halperin isn’t your company, it’s the investors’ company. The last time I checked you didn’t found it. You’re not even a scientist. You’re just a trained business monkey that someone hired to crank an organ handle. So get back on our company jet like a good little monkey before someone sells you off for medical experiments.”

Sanborn’s face had gone from ta

“Get the fuck out.”

“You have not—”

“OUT!”

Several armed KMSI soldiers suddenly appeared in the doorway, and the Colonel nodded toward Sanborn and his silent, Indian attorney. The guards made way and Sanborn led the way. “You haven’t heard the last of me.”

The Major said nothing, but only shut the office door behind them and proceeded toward the Colonel’s office. He stopped in the doorway and turned around.

Andriessen raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

“Colonel. Mr. Sanborn was ambushed by domestic insurgents on his way back home. Insurgents who were no doubt enraged at the lawsuits that he’s mounting against darknet communities throughout the Midwest. I’ll see that a psyops officer contacts your people for the proper news spin on his untimely death to ensure maximum usefulness to ongoing operations.”

The Colonel nodded. “It’s a bloody tragedy. Mr. Sanborn will be missed.” He nodded to his assistant, who picked up the phone.

The Major entered the office, let the Colonel enter, and then closed the door behind them. The Major looked the place over as an aging air conditioner labored to keep the place cool in the stifling Midwestern heat. There wasn’t even a computer or a map in the place.

The Major sat down on the edge of the desk. “Rules of Engagement for darknet communities are as follows: kill everyone you find, burn every structure, and destroy every vehicle. Without exception. The knowledge and equipment that makes these communities work must be eradicated. The cultural memory that they ever existed must be erased. Is that understood?”