Protocol 7 by Armen Gharabegian Read Free Book Online

face, pen to paper, nothing more.
    He still didn’t dare to write down his insane idea. It was too big, too fragile. He was afraid if he saw it, the mere words would make him turn away, change his mind, throw the pad in the fire and move on.
    But he couldn’t forget the last words that Hayden had spoken to him.
    Get going, he had said.
    Get going.
    Very slowly, thinking with every stroke, Simon wrote down five names on a single sheet of notebook paper:

    Max
    Jonathan
    Hayden
    Ryan (?)
    Samantha (?)

    Simon thought of the hundreds of people he had met in his personal and professional life. There was only one, one he trusted above all others:
    Max.
    Maximilian was Simon’s oldest friend, but he was much more than that. He had been a highly trained and decorated member of the British Special Forces for most of his twenties; today he was an explorer and adventurer. Simon had no idea where he was at the moment; he could be climbing a mountain in Africa or heli-skiing in the Colorado Rockies. But he had to talk to him next. Now.
    “Fae,” he said. “When was the last time I talked to Max?”
    “Just about a month ago, Simon.”
    “Where was he at the time?”
    “He didn’t specify, but the call came from Argentina near the Falkland Islands.”
    Simon nodded at the fire. “That’s right. The Falklands. Why don’t you try connecting and see if you get a visual?”
    There was a miniscule pause, a bare two seconds, and Fae said, “No visual available, Simon, but I may have an open line to him.”
    He nodded again. “Okay. Try connecting.” A moment later the room was filled with the strong, resonant and very controlled voice of his oldest friend.
    “Don’t tell me! An urgent call from my friend in the gloomiest college town on earth!”
    Simon grinned. “The very same.”
    The mere sound of Max’s voice brought back a flood of memories: years in boarding schools together, getting into all sorts of trouble. Summers spent with Max’s family in the highlands, spring vacations in Oxford with Oliver, and long, leisurely trips to the Fitzpatrick vacation house in Corsica. He remembered them all and loved every recollection.
    “You know, you always seem to catch me at the very best times, old man. If I’m not in the restroom, I’m sliding down a mountain or diving off a helicopter.”
    Simon laughed out loud. “It’s your own freaking fault, man! If you’d settle down and have a normal life, I’d know when it was safe to call.”
    “‘Safe?’” Max echoed as if he’d never spoken the word aloud before. “Sorry. Don’t know the meaning of the word.”
    He shook his head. “So what the hell are you up to now?”
    “You’d never believe it, I got my hands on an old American SUV—I can’t believe engines used to work like this! And I’ve been messing about with it for a while now. I don’t have any idea how I’m going to pay for the fuel; I could run it more cheaply on Dom Pérignon. But I thought it would be fun to play with…and lord, is it! Hang on a bit, let me pull myself out from under this thing…”
    Simon ran a hand over his short auburn hair, imagining his lithe, athletic friend sliding out from under the chassis, rising easily to his feet and wiping his hands on the nearest bit of cloth. “So where are you now?” he asked. “You know how Fae enjoys tracking you down.”
    “Oh yes,” Fae said. “Anything for Max.”
    Max laughed easily. “Still in the Falklands. I was sent here on a special project; now I’ve been stuck on this damn rock for almost four weeks. So how the hell is life in the Big Smoke, anyway?” It was one of his many less-than-affectionate terms for London.
    “Well, it’s definitely not getting any younger or cleaner,” Simon told him. “In fact, I’m willing to bet the weather is much nicer wherever you are.”
    “Undoubtedly.” There was a short pause and Simon closed his eyes. The time for small talk was over, and Max knew it, too.
    “All right, then,”