The Last Good Man

Revised Strategy

Nine days have passed since Lincoln defined his strategy: confirm the identity of our enemy, evaluate his resources, and if it’s Shaw, bring him home.

Despite staff hours devoted to the task, and thousands of dollars paid out for research and intelligence, after nine days, Shaw Walker, aka Jon Helm, remains a ghost, and Variant Forces a mirage flickering into a transient existence on the basis of rumor and guesswork, none of it confirmed.

Lincoln has been thinking of Variant Forces as a corporation like ReqOps. But the State Department suggested it was a syndicate and Lincoln thinks that is a good description.

The word “corporation” derives from the Latin, corpus, for body. But Lincoln considers it likely that Variant Forces has no corporate body in the sense he is accustomed to, that it has no central location. Its structure is more fluid.

The model he thinks of is a swarm: small independent units that can function on their own or come together as a coordinated whole when need demands it.

He flinches at the hard rap of knuckles on his office door. Friday announces, “Chris would like to enter.”

“Let him in,” he mutters irritably.

The lock clicks. Chris comes in, slamming the door closed behind him. His face is flushed. He exudes disapproval—but that’s his duty.

“God damn it, Lincoln,” he says, “we are hemorrhaging funds.” He yanks the guest chair to the center of the desk and sits down. “Renata is busting her ass getting bids on our Hai-Lin AI, but that is not going to save us. We have to resume our training schedule. We cannot reschedule any more sessions. If we do, we are going to lose the company. It’s that simple. If that’s the direction you want to go, let me know, because I will start laying people off today.”

Lincoln is well aware of the financial situation. He knows Chris is not exaggerating. He’s aware of Renata’s activities too. She went against company policy and consented to an interview in a defense publication. Her flamboyant personality shone through as she described the dogfight outside Tadmur, her own authority as squadron leader, and the autonomous action of the AI pilot. Her purpose was to generate interest and drive up bids for the AI’s services. She succeeded, but the publicity came at a cost: Her name and face now represent the mission. It’s the kind of exposure Lincoln wants his people to avoid—and he’s determined it won’t happen again.

“Reinitiate the training schedule,” he tells Chris.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You wanted a peace treaty?” Lincoln asks him. “Well, we’ve been handed one.”

“What the hell?”

“Shaw is invisible. We are not.”

It started with True and the mimetic deer. Since then, everyone who participated in the operation against Hussam reported similar incidents. The devices varied from insect mimetics, sighted on eaves and windowsills, to a raptor that Lincoln watched as it watched him, floating on an updraft past his seventh-floor balcony. Everyone has been allowed to see the devices watching. It’s a clear statement.

He says, “Variant Forces has us mapped. They could hit us—hit our personnel, hit our families—anytime they want to.”

“But they won’t do it unless we give them a reason. That’s how you’re reading this?”

“It’s not a guess anymore. Khalid made contact. Not directly with Shaw. The message came through an intermediary.”

“You know that? You’ve got confirmation?”

“Yes. On the Burma mission, Shaw’s last mission, the identity confirmation code was ‘perfect field.’ That was appended to the message Khalid received. Who would know that? Who would bother to remember it except Shaw?”

“What was the message?”

Lincoln activates the tablet that’s lying on his desk and reads aloud in a flat voice: “For old times’ sake, I’m going to call it even and let this one go. You know I can get to you. Fuck with me again and the blade goes in.”

Chris leans back, looks to the heavens. “Jesus.”

“I’m stepping aside as executive officer at ReqOps,” Lincoln says. “I’m appointing you interim CEO. I want you to get us back on schedule, get the cash flow going again.”

“So you’re not accepting this peace treaty? Do you really think dissociating yourself from ReqOps is going to make a difference?”

“No. And I’m not dissociating myself. But the day-to-day operation of this company is a full-time job and I can’t give it my full-time attention right now. So it’s on you, Chris, to keep us in business.”

“While you go after Shaw?”

“While I attend to our long-term security. What this incident has made clear is that the world we thought we were living in doesn’t exist anymore. We’ve always emphasized personal security among our people, but up until now we’ve operated on the naïve assumption that the threats we face at home are minor. We guard against intruders. We use security cameras and alarms. But we’ve got nothing in place to protect our homes and our families from a raid like the one we ran against Hussam.”

“It’s not a realistic worry,” Chris objects. “We’re behind an active shield of federal surveillance, antiterrorist investigations, government checkpoints. Some AI, somewhere, is going to trigger an alarm at any hint of an unlicensed private military operation on that scale.”

“How confident are you of that? Really? Think about it. Think how you would do it.”

He gives Chris time to consider this.

“It would be easy for you,” Lincoln continues. “You’re one man. A lone wolf. You’re not after publicity. You don’t want to promote a political or religious cause. You don’t want to negotiate. All you want to do is hit a soft target. You don’t need to be present to do it. An armed drone with a kamikaze function wouldn’t even leave evidence.”

“That’s a path to paranoia,” Chris says. “Yes, it’s possible. But what you’re saying—it means Shaw is not our only problem. We can make enemies with anything we do—a defensive security operation, even training someone else’s jackboots. If we’re that vulnerable to low-cost retribution, our business model is blown, because we will never have the budget or the legal protections of a state-sponsored military operation.”

“Exactly,” Lincoln says. “We are vulnerable to anyone, anywhere, anytime.”

“Unless we go into hiding, adopt a bunker mentality. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No. None of us wants to live that way. In the long run, we’re going to have to live by our reputation. We offer no quarter. We respond to every threat. So bringing Shaw home is essential… in the long term. For now though, we play along. We respect the peace treaty. We get the company back on a stable financial footing.”

“While you prepare for war.”

“Eight years ago, in Kunar Province, I was present when Shaw knowingly called in a drone strike on a house full of noncombatants, women and children. I did not report the incident. I told myself it was for the good of the unit and I stood aside. That was a mistake. Not one I plan to repeat. Everything that’s happened since, from Burma to the TEZ—”

Chris cuts him off. “You don’t get to put that on your shoulders!”

Lincoln shakes his head. “Let’s just say I don’t like loose ends.”