Firefall: A high-tech conspiracy thriller (Shadow Operatives Book 3), page 1
Firefall
A High-Tech Conspiracy Thriller
JD Lasica
A Shadow Operatives Thriller (Book 3)
Praise for ‘Firefall’
“Fast-paced and engaging, Firefall grabs you from the first line, taking you on a breathless ride until the spine-tingling end.”
– Cheryl Bradshaw, New York Times bestselling author
“J.D. Lasica delivers again with an engaging blend of spy thrills and sci-fi chills.”
– Rhett Bruno, author of Breakdown and Hellfire
“J.D. Lasica has become my Tom Clancy replacement with his Jack Ryan level storytelling. ‘Firefall’ is his most cinematic novel yet.”
– Jim ("Sky") Schuyler, film composer
“The realistic near-future science and the exposition through dialogue in Firefall reminds me of Michael Crichton's best technothrillers.”
– Tiffany Lee
Note to readers: If you need to get your bearings, see the Characters section after the last chapter.
Copyright © 2022 by J.D. Lasica. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Firefall is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights holders retain the rights to their trademarks and copyrights. Any references to historical figures, real people, or real places are used fictitiously.
The author has provided this ebook to you without Digital Rights Management so you can enjoy reading it on the device of your choice. This ebook is for your personal use only. You may not republish or post this ebook, upload it, or make it publicly available.
Published in the United States of America by Best of Indie Publishing in November 2022.
Cover design: Damonza
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Epilogue
Characters
Help an author out
Also by JD Lasica
Fact vs. fiction
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedicated to the fearless women in my life—and everywhere.
“He who occupies the high ground …will fight to advantage.”
– Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Prologue
DARPA headquarters, Arlington, Virginia
The senior scientist dashed through the hallway of the top-secret lab. His mind was reeling, heart pounding.
It’s not possible, he said to himself. The breakthrough is astounding. Its potential … breathtaking.
He exited the research lab and entered the main wing of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. A uniformed officer glared at him. No running at DARPA. Colleagues, program managers, strangers paused their small talk and turned to look at the rule-breaker in their midst.
If they only knew! How often are you the first person on the planet to witness the birth of a new era in human history? This changes everything.
Tosh Farraday turned the corner toward the Admin wing and smashed face first into the back of a hulking metal object. The collision sent him sprawling to the ground. His smartphone skittered across the corridor and landed at the feet of a pair of researchers in white lab coats.
He looked up at the expressionless machine and recognized what it was: a next-generation robot soldier. A seven-foot-tall specimen of titanium physicality and high-tech wizardry. Its glowing blue eyes—or sensors—were recessed behind a visor on its smaller-than-human head.
The robot struck him as both imposing and nimble, with a barrel-chested torso, biceps tapering out to humanlike metal hands, and long, sturdy legs. This must be was one of the new prototypes he’d been briefed about. The first of a new wave of robots—autonomous, agile, faster than the swiftest land animal. Its architects said these robo-warriors would revolutionize modern warfare.
“My apologies, Dr. Farraday,” the robot said, leaning down to offer him a metal hand. Lettering stamped on the left side of its chest revealed its unique identifier: Matt Daemon. “Let me help you up.”
That surprised him for a moment, but he realized it shouldn’t have. Facial recognition technology had come a long way. Matt here must have been fed some Department of Defense personnel files.
“Um, no thanks,” he sputtered.
He scrambled to his feet in front of two of the startled researchers who seemed more concerned with whether Farraday had damaged their robot prototype. Matt Daemon stepped nimbly to the far wall, bent down, retrieved the phone with a sweep of its metal hand, brought it over, and dropped it into Farraday’s waiting palm.
“Well done,” the tallest of the researchers said.
Farraday gathered himself. He speed-walked the rest of the way before finally reaching the airy, light-filled office of the director.
“Can I help you, Dr. Farraday?” the office assistant said from behind his desk.
“The director will want to see me,” Farraday said as he headed toward the inside office door. “National security.”
He stopped short when he saw two military police officers standing astride the door clasping their M-16s. The door swung wide, and the director stepped to the fore, as if expecting him. Behind him stood a woman he didn’t recognize. Tall, dark-haired, and unsmiling, she stood with a rigid posture in a full dress general’s uniform, hands clasped behind her back.
“Dr. Farraday.” The director opened the door wide. “Just the man we need to see.”
1
Annandale, Virginia
Kaden Baker closed her eyes and wished. At twenty-three, she was too old to believe in wishes coming true. But she wasn’t too old to believe that visualization is the first step in confronting life’s challenges. At least, that’s what her meditation podcasts have been telling her.
So she wished that this Christmas would feature no spyware in her presents. No fake parents on someone’s payroll. Most of all, no more dead bodies. Now that would be an awesome start to the holiday season.
Above all, she wanted one thing. She wanted normal—a boring, drama-free holiday with her real dad and the teenage sister she was just getting to know. Was that too much to ask?
“Merry Christmas Eve! Who wants a hot mulled cider?” Bo Finnerty sauntered into the family room wearing a green apron and a silly red reindeer nose. It was a welcome sight, her father holding two ceramic mugs instead of a Special Forces combat assault rifle like the last time she’d seen him.
He handed Bailey the first mug. “I made yours with less of a kick.”
Her younger sister set it on the end table. “Thanks, Dad.” Bailey didn’t look up, slouched deep in her lounge chair. “You can treat me like an adult, you know.”
“Eighteen,” Bo reminded her. “Old enough to vote. Not old enough to drink.”
Bailey fiddled with the streaming music app on her smartphone. Silent Night filled the room as logs of cottonwood crackled in the fireplace. Kaden considered mentioning that the smoke from the fireplace wasn’t doing the environment any favors, but she thought better of it. Don’t want to spoil my first Christmas Eve with my new family.
Bo handed Kaden the second steaming mug. “Old Finnerty recipe.”
“’Tis the season and all t
“Not important.” Bo paused in the entryway and gave his daughters a wistful look. “I’m just glad we’re finally all together.” The glow from the fireplace lit up his chiseled features and brown hair flecked with specks of gray as he smiled that sideways smile of his.
So this is what a real family is like, Kaden thought. I could get used to this. But maybe it’s too late for me. Too much trauma over too many years. Can that kind of damage ever really be undone?
Bo bent down and snagged a wrapped present from beneath the Christmas tree. A gold bow fluttered to the carpet. He bent down and fumbled to stick it back on. “Want to open your gifts now or after dinner?”
“After dinner,” Bailey declared. She thumbed a text message on her phone, looking agitated. “Something’s wrong. Piper’s still not answering me.”
“Piper, your classmate we rescued from the island?” Kaden said, wishing she could put that entire episode behind her.
“Yeah. And nobody’s seen her for, like, a week.”
“I can ask her father what the deal is,” Bo said, taking a swig of cider. “But Viper may not know. He’s back on the road in his big rig.”
Kaden thought it best to turn to a cheerier subject, so she took another sip of spiked cider. “Mmm. It’s growing on me.”
“Liar.” Bailey glanced up from her phone, and they both laughed. Misty, their three-year-old rust-colored cocker spaniel, jumped onto the back of the couch and rested her head on Bailey’s shoulder.
“Listen, girls, I’ve got something to tell you.” Bo removed his apron and his red nose as he settled into the chair across from them. “Just between the three of us.”
“You mean the four of us.” Kaden swept a tuft of her short blond hair away from her smart contacts. She shifted her eyes to the empty loveseat where Amelia just materialized, dressed in a silly red Santa top and black gym leggings.
As usual, nobody else could see her personal AI unless they were wearing smartglasses with the right permissions. But not tonight. Tonight was about making merry, not chattering with a next-gen artificial intelligence.
“How could I forget your ghost friend?” Bo looked at the empty seat. “Is she sitting there right now?”
“Like the ghost of Christmas future,” Bailey offered, not that helpfully. She changed the station to something more uptempo. José Feliciano’s Feliz Navidad.
Amelia swayed her virtual shoulders back and forth, snapping her fingers and lip-syncing the words. I want to wish you a merry Christmas, I want to wish you a merry Christmas …
Kaden had programmed Amelia to have a retro vibe that was true to her era. But Amelia did have an up-to-date cultural database with more modern musical tastes so she wasn’t stuck in a 1930s time warp.
“How can you forget about Amelia, Dad?”
Bo put on his concerned father look. “I’m not sure it’s healthy when you’re spending so much time in a virtual reality.”
Kaden tried to suppress a grimace. “Let’s not go there on Christmas Eve.”
Bo smiled and nodded. “You’re right. Now’s not the time.” He sank onto the arm of his leather Dad chair. “Listen, I have some news. I’m gonna be gone for a while. Flying out late tonight.” He paused, and his expression registered a look that said, I’m not happy about this, either. But she knew he never spoke ill of the agency, regardless of how it played havoc with his home life.
“What?” Bailey sat up straight. “Who in the freaking federal government works on Christmas Day?”
“Hey, hey. Language, young lady.”
“I’m eighteen. I can say ‘freaking’ in my own house.”
Kaden tried to take the news in stride. She knew he’d returned to his old job at the Defense Intelligence Agency after the three of them barely escaped a run-in with some bad dudes on that weird-ass little island last month.
“You said gone.” Kaden thought about it. Was her biological dad back at DIA as an operative? “Gone for how long? Did they put you back in the field?”
After she and Bo reunited just two months ago, he confided in her about his long-running work at DIA, the smaller, more covert cousin of the CIA. Suddenly the pieces all began to make sense. The months-long absences overseas that turned out to be undercover missions. The whole being-a-spy thing.
My dad, the spook.
Bailey slammed her phone onto the couch’s arm rest. “Dad, you promised! You said you were going back to work as an analyst, not a field officer.” She sprang up, nearly knocking over the wicker coffee table. “I can’t believe it. Did you lie to us—again?”
Bo’s face rippled with regret. “I promised you both I’d be straight with you. That’s what I’m trying to do. I’ll be gone for a while. No cover story, just the plain truth.”
“Where?” Bailey demanded.
“I can’t say.”
“Great. Just when I’m trying to get my life back.”
Bailey let out a gruff little growl, tromped down the hallway to her bedroom, and slammed her door. She was still weeks away from getting her high school diploma after her kidnapping last spring.
And now this.
“Bo.” Kaden leveled a hard gaze at her father. “What the hell?”
“You know I can’t talk about it, honey.” He leaned forward and reached out to stroke Misty’s soft fur. “Can’t we just enjoy a quiet Christmas Eve together?”
Feliz navidad, feliz navidad, José belted out.
“Don’t worry.” Bo’s voice softened and the edges of his kind brown eyes crinkled. “I’ll be back before things heat up on the legal front.”
He meant the bogus charges Kaden was facing in Dallas for shooting the CEO of a biotech company. After her sealed indictment for felony homicide, she made bail after her father had worked out some kind of arrangement.
So much for a normal, boring Christmas this year.
Bo rose from the arm of his Dad chair, came over, and squeezed her shoulder. “You know we’re going to beat this thing, right? Damned politicization of the Justice Department. You’re a hero, not the villain.”
Kaden managed a weak smile. She’d been avoiding thinking about the upcoming trial for weeks now. Bailey was always needling her about her tendency to compartmentalize everything.
Kaden supposed she had a point. She’d developed a defense mechanism for dealing with all the crazy thrown her way. One bucket for her newfound biological family. One bucket for the psychological abuse that her adoptive parents inflicted on her. Another bucket for her military training and special ops missions. She was running out of buckets.
“Kaden, sugar pie.” Amelia stood up and the white pom pom on her Santa cap bobbed as she positioned herself next to the fireplace. “Someone is trying to reach you.”
Kaden winced. “Not today.”
“He says it’s urgent.”
It’s Christmas Eve. What’s so urgent it can’t wait?
