Wired - Douglas E. Richards [122]
Alan Miller laughed. “Your loathing of me is about to take a sharp turn for the worse,” he said icily. “Allow me to continue. Once I knew you were the right man, I made sure you encountered tragedy, so you would be a wounded soul and would break all ties with other women. To make you more appealing to my sister. After all, what could possibly be more appealing than a tortured, unattached hero?”
“You really did set us up in Iran, didn’t you?” whispered Desh in horror.
“Putnam arranged for that particular—what do you grunts like to call it—oh yeah … clusterfuck. He didn’t have any idea why. Those stupid-assed terrorists were well paid to make sure you escaped alive, but they almost blew it. I needed you injured, but not as injured as you were.”
“You’re saying they let me escape?”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you need me injured? So I’d cut an even more sympathetic figure for Kira?”
Alan smiled. “I’ll answer that a little later. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. And I really do want to share with you how brilliantly you were both manipulated. After all, you’re the only two people in the world who will ever have a chance to appreciate my mastery.” He paused. “Shall I continue?”
Desh nodded while Kira glared at her brother hatefully.
“The optimized me figured there was a fifty-fifty chance Desh would leave the service. Either way, it didn’t really matter to my plan.”
“If your plan was to get me to team up with Kira, why did you wait so long?”
“She wasn’t ready yet. I wanted her harried. Chasing her; almost catching her; isolating her. Making her feel persecuted and alone. Crushing her spirit. I needed her primed for the arrival of her white knight. When I judged she was at the end of her rope, I pulled the strings to have you come in.”
Kira knew this is exactly what had happened. She had recruited David because she was lonely and fatigued. Alan’s execution had been flawless.
“Are you saying you could have captured her earlier?” said Desh.
Alan shrugged. “Possibly,” he said. “If I had made more balls-out attempts. I tried to capture her in the early days, but failed. My enhanced self had calculated that if I captured her, tortured her a bit, and then let her find a way to escape, this would accelerate her readiness to seek out an ally like you, and I could move up my time table.” An annoyed look came over his face. “But she was a lot better than I thought she’d be. And when I got close she would take bold risks with her own life to elude capture, which I couldn’t have. So I changed gears and made harassment my primary objective.”
“How did you get me assigned?” asked Desh.
Alan grinned. “With the powerful people Putnam and I have in our pockets, it was laughably easy. I had an influential politician with plenty of skeletons in his closet arrange for it all with Connelly’s bosses. And I had long since made sure the identities of all of the agents sent after her were recorded in a database I knew she could breach.”
“Because you knew she would study them,” said Desh. “You needed her to study them.”
He nodded. “She studied others that were sent after her without effect, but I knew if she was properly primed and studied your photo and history, she would try to recruit you.”
Kira Miller felt bile rise in her throat. This thing pretending to be her brother was distilled evil. What twist of fate had led to her parents giving birth to two mutant children: a daughter with unequaled genius for molecular biology and a son born entirely without a conscience.
“She took the bait just as I knew she would,” boasted Alan. “I had planned on having the two of you captured by my Black Ops dupe, Smith, and held together as prisoners for a few days to allow love to blossom. But you kept eluding him.” Alan shrugged. “Served my purposes anyway. In fact, your escapes from the motel and woods probably cemented your relationship.” A content, self-satisfied expression came over his face. “Then all that was left to do was have Putnam capture you both and pretend to be me, initiating a perfect storm of circumstances that