Read Online Watch Dogs by John Shirley - Free Book Online

seats. Not giving a damn.
    The two in back of the truck returned to the front, one of them carrying the RPG launcher, and stood by. The truck drove around the parked humvee, and waited a ways ahead. One of the men with the RPG fired at the front humvee. That one blew up too.
    Then they tossed the RPG in the brush, jogged up to the truck, and got in the back. And the truck drove off.
    I didn’t know definitely who most of the guys who’d done the killing were. I had one uncertain I.D.. I didn’t know who they’d killed. I didn’t know who to turn to.
    So I started analyzing the images on my own time.
    The faces weren’t sharply defined until I pulled in the analysis and enhancement software. There, first guy who’d looked at the sky—Major Roger Verrick. Second guy, Rafe Callahan.
    Maybe this had been some a U.S. black ops takedown. Could be that it was something so classified it had a classification level I’d never heard of. There were rumors of accesses like that.
    So I didn’t say anything, not right away. I’d have to find some discreet way to ask about this.
    But I had trouble sleeping for two days, wondering about it. Not feeling right.
     Then I heard about the al Qaeda attack on one of our delivery convoys. “Yeah, we lost a buncha guys,” Specialist Gamble was saying, in the mess tent, as he speared roast beef and shoved it into his mouth. He was chewing with his mouth open and gabbing at the same time as usual. “Navy SEALS killed, what I heard. Six good men down. The front humvee hit some kinda IED, then your garden variety terrorists come out with RPGs and they nail the humvees and steal the truck.”
    “What was in the truck?” I asked.
    “I’m not supposed to say...” Gamble swallowed, drank some milk, and then glanced around.
    I knew he’d get around to telling me what he’d heard. He was one of those guys who like people to think they’re “in the know”. He was in the know, too, because he was tasked on the ultra-frequency receiver that decrypted intel stuff; he turned it into reports for people in the high access loop.
    Now he lowered his voice and went on, “Money! Al Qaeda ripped off more a hundred-forty million bucks in cash. Bundles of cash, piled up like it was nothin’ but notebook paper shipping out of a warehouse! It was going to pay off Somali warlords, see, get them on our side.”
    “They shipped it in cash?”
    “Sure! Like all that big cash that disappeared into Iraq, years ago, remember that?”
    “Uh huh. They never did catch those guys...”
    “Well, word is, this was terrorists killed those guys in the trucks and humvees, stole that money intended for the guys who were gonna switch sides against ‘em...But listen, bud, you didn’t hear it from me!”
    Terrorists. That was the official story. Only I’d confirmed that was Verrick out there—and Callahan.
    So what did I do then, Pearce? Did I leak the stuff anonymously? Did I get myself sent back to the DC, so I could slip right to top levels with what I’d seen—what I’d recorded?
    No! Like a dumbjack, I went to my base commander, right there on the island. I took it to General Van Ness, and I told him all about it. I gave him a disk with the goods on it.
    Van Ness went white when he heard that stuff. I didn’t realize why at the time. I thought he was just worried about guys from his command ripping off money.
    About an hour later I was just going over to the drone control trailer when I almost ran into Specialist Gamble—he came off frightened when he saw me.
    Whoosh, he turned on his heel and went the other way.
    I can read the signs in the military.
    So right then I went to the CIA attaché, told her what I’d seen—I can’t give you her name. Well, she stared at me for a long moment after I told her the story, then said, “How about some evidence?”. I told her sure, I’ll get it.
    I went to my bunk. The only other copy I’d made of that disk should’ve been in my personal effects case—it