Undisclosed Location, New York

The General pledged allegiance to no country.

With a small box in one hand, Denton stepped inside the office of the six-star general—a rank that didn't officially exist. In some ways, the Fifth Column itself didn't exist either. It had no flag, no symbol; it was simply shorthand for the Western military-intelligence amalgam that controlled a sizable chunk of mankind with the lingering scent of freedom and democracy. As an esteemed member, Denton had worn many faces and carried the badges of many agencies.

Yet for someone who was arguably the most powerful person in the world, the General kept his office surprisingly bare. A desk, a computer and ... well, that was it. The desk was smoked glass and the walls were charcoal. Oh, there's a new chair for visitors. That's new.

Denton sat in the new chair—it squeaked to his dissatisfaction— and set his box of cupcakes carefully upon his lap. With his large, thin-rimmed glasses and tiny crinkled mouth, the General reminded Denton of an owl. Those magnified owl-like eyes didn't waver from the streaming news report on his computer monitor.

'...suspected to be a domestic terrorist organization known as Purity. Only hours after the attack, the United States President has suggested a nationwide state of emergency, placing the country under military authority, as a serious option—'

The General closed the stream.

'Your operatives were given ample opportunity to clear the area. All followed orders without incident, except Sophia. And now she's dead, much like your beloved doctor. Do you know what this tells me, Denton? This tells me that Project GATE would appear to be a complete disaster. Which leads me to my second question. Are you able to continue?'

'I assure you,' Denton said, 'that we can and will continue.'

'And why should I allow you to? Tell me, what can be produced right now from Project GATE that would be of immediate benefit to us?'

Denton ran a hand over his shaved head. 'Shocktroopers.'

'Forgive me for being skeptical, but this is not a phrase to be bandied about. Unless you wish to make the same mistake your father did.'

He was right, it wasn't a phrase to be bandied about. But Denton wouldn't have used it unless he was confident he could deliver. And right now, it was the one thing that would stop Project GATE from being shut down completely.

'We've already perfected the technology necessary to mass-produce 100 Mark II operatives on a monthly basis,' he said. 'Carefully programmed and monitored, all with thoroughly tested Perseus- and Ambrosia-class pseudogene expression.' He leaned forward. 'We're ready to deploy iron-bodied and iron-willed operatives: tireless, relentless, remorseless, unstoppable.'

The General's eyebrows rose slightly. 'Sounds like a Mark I operative to me. What's the difference?'

'A shocktrooper is ... the hamburger with the lot,' Denton said.

'Not your finest analogy.'

'Admittedly no, but an accurate one,' Denton said. 'I'm talking about complete sensory augmentation. Every single Perseus-class pseudogene. Increased olfaction, infrasound, ultrasound, echolocation, balance, acceleration, you name it. They have heightened awareness of body placement, coordination, kinesthetics, acute detection of electric fields. They can see into ultraviolet and near infrared wavelengths.'

'Mark I operatives can do all of that,' the General said.

'Mark I operatives possess only one or two of these particular skills,' Denton said. 'Shocktroopers have them all. They are the finished product. And I can produce one squad every month. Give me six months and I'll give you a battalion of the most dangerous operatives on the face of this planet.'

The General frowned. 'Is this taking into account the untimely death of your most talented computer geneticist?'

'With all due respect, General, I wasn't aware that I'd flown halfway around the world to talk about Cecilia McLoughlin.'

'No. You flew halfway around the world to explain to me why your team, led by your most promising operative, went haywire in Iran eight hours ago and started retiring friendly forces. And why, once apprehended and supposedly heavily sedated, they managed to escape from the most fortified air base in the country. All before your responding team was able to secure them.'

'They are the most talented operatives under my command and consequently under the command of the Fifth Column,' Denton said. 'I have the media ready to circulate a plausible suicide-bombing scenario to clean up our mess. We'll tie this in with your promotion of Al-Zawahiri as leader of the toilet,' Denton said.

'The leader of Al-Qaeda,' the General corrected him.

'The leader of the "foreign toilet",' Denton said, 'if you translate into colloquial Arabic.'

The General cleared his throat. 'Let's not forget who came up with such nonsense.'

Denton smiled. 'And people say I don't have a sense of humor.'

The General exhaled through his nostrils, making a slight whistling sound. It set Denton's teeth on edge.

'I hope this mess will be your last, Denton.'

'I guarantee that it will,' he said. 'I'm doing my best to contain the situation.'

'Your best is clearly not good enough.' The General ran his tongue between lips to moisten them. 'This sort of activity turns suspicion in our direction, which is cause for concern in itself because our direction doesn't and shouldn't exist.'

Denton ignored the criticism. He wasn't taking the blame this time.

'We tracked the operatives over the border and managed to recover Sophia's companions: Damien and Jay. They won't be ready for our first shocktrooper intake, but as soon as they recover from their injuries, they'll be redeployed.'

The General raised an eyebrow. 'You intend to redeploy malfunctioning operatives into the field? Are you begging for a repeat of yesterday?'

'Sir, operatives are programmed so they're unable to inflict self-harm, which includes removing their RFIDs. The fact that Sophia was able to remove hers and thereby remove the others' strongly suggests it's her programming that has malfunctioned. The rest of her team were simply following her orders. They functioned as we designed them to.'

'That's what concerns me,' the General said.

'At 200 million apiece, I knew you wouldn't want to waste them.'

The General might have smiled ever so slightly, but Denton couldn't be sure. It was good enough. He lifted the small paper box from his lap and placed it on the desk.

'I baked them this morning,' he said, and opened the lid to reveal half a dozen red velvet mini-cupcakes piped with cream cheese.

The General glared at him, but reached over to inspect them. 'Just one.'

He didn't eat it, but placed it in his topmost desk drawer—a drawer likely populated with cupcakes Denton had brought on previous visits.

'Is there anything else?' Denton asked.

'Unfortunately, yes,' the General said. 'Your failure in this matter has earned you a temporary demotion to lieutenant colonel. Nothing personal, just politics. You know how it is.' He cleared his throat. 'You'll no longer be facility coordinator at Desecheo Island, and your special access clearance has been reduced to level two.'

Denton tried to contain his rage. A demotion? He'd just given the man a fucking cupcake. 'Who will be the coordinator then?'

'Doctor Komarov,' the General said. 'She is more than qualified and remarkably efficient.'

Denton almost choked. 'Komarov from Black Mesa? She hasn't been sober since the Cold War.'

'You will still be responsible for your existing operatives, of course,' the General said. 'One of your responsibilities is to ensure a thorough reassessment of all operatives under your command. I want to be convinced there will be no further malfunctions. And I also want to know why there was a malfunction in the first place. It seems to me that your latest programming technique isn't as flawless as you've led me to believe.'

'I'll investigate immediately,' Denton said.

'Good. And you will also be required to meet the ambitious monthly shocktrooper quota you have just assigned yourself. With all bugs ironed out.'

Denton stood. 'If you don't mind me asking, why are you interested in the progress of my operatives? You've never shown this level of interest before.'

'You've never made a mistake before.'