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  HIGHEST ORDER

  Copyright © 2018 by David Archer.

  All right reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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  Published by: David Archer

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  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  BOOK ELEVEN PREVIEW...

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  In the course of protecting the security of a nation, governments must often make choices that are best kept away from public notice. Society being what it is, people are wont to believe that everyone has some innate good within them, and that when necessary, they will do the “right thing.”

  Those who choose public service, however, whether it be through law enforcement or political office, soon learn the truth: that even the finest examples of men and women are capable of horrific acts under the right circumstances, while the worst examples view those acts as nothing more than taking care of business. Such people are often beyond redemption, and in many cases they are far enough ahead of the rest of society that they avoid being detected, exposed, and caught. While it may be obvious to some that they are evil, the vast majority of society never sees it, and so would never sanction the kind of action that is necessary to eliminate such evil.

  For this reason, such actions are carried out by shadows, people who do not exist as far as society is concerned. Every nation has had such people, including the supposedly civilized western nations. Over the years, the United States of America has publicly denied the existence of assassins within the ranks of the CIA and FBI, which it can do because the Alphabet Soup Groups that are known to the American people honestly do not engage in such things, or at least, only when there is absolutely no other alternative at the moment when such action must be taken.

  Instead, there is a special organization that is so secret that even most of the government knows nothing more about it than that it does exist, including some of those Alphabet Soup Groups. Whenever one of those organizations comes upon an individual whose departure from the world would leave it a notably better place, a request must be filed through a highly secure computer network. The request must include as much information about the person or persons to be eliminated as possible, an explanation in great detail as to why the requesting organization believes it necessary to resort to elimination, and a projection of the benefits to society if the request is granted.

  That request will be delivered to a single person who has demonstrated a capacity for common sense and a willingness to accept responsibility. She alone will determine whether the request will be granted or denied, and if it is granted, she will assign the mission to eliminate the target or targets to one of several teams that work for her. These teams specialize in doing just that—eliminating those persons whose presence in the world can no longer be tolerated.

  Her name is Allison Peterson, and she runs a nearly invisible department known as E & E, which stands for Elimination and Eradication. This department was established under a secret order from the President of the United States, and given absolute autonomy. Allison alone can grant or deny requests for elimination, and no one, not even the president, can order her to approve one.

  The missions she assigns are carried out by teams that normally consist of only four people. One, the team leader, is the assassin. He or she is aided in missions by three support specialists: transportation, intelligence, and muscle. Each team is named after something from mythology, which has led to her department getting the nickname of Neverland.

  Noah Wolf is Allison's star pupil, recruited because of something that most people would consider a character flaw, but which she saw as potentially the greatest strength any assassin could have.

  When he was only a child, Noah Foster was present when his father murdered his mother, and then committed suicide. Something inside the seven-year-old boy broke, and from that day on, he has been completely without emotion—or conscience—of any kind. He would probably have found himself in an institution not long after that tragedy, but for the help of a genius friend that he met in foster care. Her name was Molly, and she was one of those rare children with an IQ so high that it was almost impossible to measure. While she lived at the foster home with Noah and other children, she was taking high school and even some college classes in a special education program, and one of those classes was psychology. It didn't take her long to figure Noah out, and to realize that if he continued to act so differently from everyone else, he would soon find himself locked away.

  Molly convinced him to use his own surprisingly intelligent mind to study the actions and mannerisms of people around him, and mimic them in order to conceal his emotional state. She compared him to Mister Spock from Star Trek, the famous Vulcan, because Noah had instinctively turned to logic. He naturally examined all sides of any given situation before attempting to react to it, and by the time he was ten years old, he could arrive at a conclusion so quickly that his reactions seemed natural and brilliant.

  As he grew older, he continued to mimic others, keeping his logical nature as secret as he could. He was considered an asset to any task he undertook, because he would simply examine the problem, decide what needed to be done, and then do it. He was never selfish, never lazy, and always willing to do whatever it took to ensure the success of any project he was involved in, for himself as well as for others who worked with him.

  A combination of circumstances led him to join the Army when he was only seventeen, and he found it to be exactly the kind of environment he needed. The rules, structure, and discipline fit perfectly into his concept of how the world should be, and he excelled as a soldier. He rose to the rank of Staff Sergeant, served three tours
of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq, and had more than a dozen different commendations in his file.

  None of that did him any good, however, when his platoon leader, Lieutenant Daniel Gibson, one day decided to engage in sport with some Iraqi civilian girls that the platoon had stumbled across on a patrol. Unfortunately, the girls, of course, objected to being raped, and so he ordered them killed. Noah had been assigned to sniper cover that day, and was unaware of what was going on until he was called down from his position. Only one of the girls was still alive, and Gibson offered Noah the chance to take advantage of her before she met her own fate.

  Noah assessed the situation, and concluded that his commanding officer had committed and condoned the rape and murder of Iraqi civilians, which could be considered an act of war against Iraq by forces of the United States. He refused to participate, and demanded the situation stop, but Lieutenant Gibson told him to shut up and then shot the one surviving girl through the head.

  Noah's computer-like brain saw that the situation was completely out of control, and took what he considered to be logical action. He shot and killed his platoon leader, and then attempted to place the rest of the platoon under arrest. The other men fought, and he was forced to kill several of them before the remainder surrendered.

  Unfortunately, when they returned to their base, it was his word against theirs. When it turned out that Lieutenant Gibson was the son of Congressman Gibson, the up-and-coming presidential hopeful, the political pressure came down from Washington and Noah was arrested for multiple counts of murder. He was railroaded through court-martial and sentenced to die.

  That's where Allison found him, sitting on death row at Leavenworth. She visited him there in disguise, explaining that if he was willing to put his talents and abilities to work for her, she could arrange for him to have a second chance. Of course, it would mean never having any contact with anyone from his past, since the official story would include that he committed suicide in his prison cell.

  Noah made the logical choice, and agreed. Days later, he was taken out of his cell in the middle of the night and transported to the department's training compound in Colorado. The morning news carried the story that the renegade soldier who had murdered the son of Congressman Gibson had killed himself in his cell. His unclaimed body was interred in the prison cemetery only two days later.

  His codename was Camelot, and he was the most effective assassin the world had ever known.

  Prologue

  Chidi Abimbola wiped the sweat off his brow and looked up at the sun. It was high and it was hot, but that was normal in this part of western Algeria. He and Oni were walking along the path through the Sahrawi refugee sector, occasionally returning the smile of someone they passed by, or nodding to an acquaintance on their way. They were barely twenty miles from the border with Western Sahara, and only a few miles southwest of Tindouf. Chidi, the Wali, or territorial governor, had his office there.

  “General Zaki says we are ready,” he said to his aide, Oni. “The only thing standing between us and independence, now, is Algiers. We have secured the support of Mauritania, Western Sahara, and Morocco, all of whom will recognize us as a separate nation. The announcements will go out at four o’clock today throughout the world, and we are prepared for any military action Algiers may decide to take.”

  Oni inclined his head. “Our people have waited long for this day,” he said. “Freedom is their dream, and whatever the cost, we will pay it.”

  “I suspect it will be high, Oni. Zaki has only forty thousand troops, less than a dozen warplanes and a single artillery division. President Belkacem can hit us with three times our numbers within a matter of days. If our allies fail us, we will all be hanged for treason.”

  Oni maintained his reverent posture. “Morocco and Mauritania will stand with us,” he said. “We will control enough natural gas reserves to be worth defending, and our iron mines are the most productive in this part of Africa. Western Sahara may waver, but I believe they will follow Mauritania. Individually, none of them have the military strength to stand up to Algiers, but together we can throw off the oppression we have labored under for so many years. Mauritania enjoys strong relations with the United States, so the Americans might recognize us. Europe receives most of our natural gas, so we could see support from them, as well.”

  “All of that is only speculative,” Chidi said. “We must plan as best we can for our own defense, but I agree that Mauritania and Morocco will at least rattle their swords on our behalf. That should be enough to make President Belkacem think twice before launching an all-out offensive.”

  Oni finally looked up at him. “Zaki has been playing at training exercises for the past few weeks, to cover up the fact that he has been placing troops into defensive positions along our border. His officers are loyal, he says, and he expects loyalty from almost all of his troops. Arranging housing for the families of the soldiers who were stationed here was a stroke of brilliance. It gives them all more than enough reason to want to stay in West Algeria, once we split from the rest of the nation.”

  Chidi smiled. “Seems to me I remember someone suggesting that to me. It was brilliant, yes, but it was your idea, my friend. So many of the things that have brought us to this point were from that powerful mind of yours, but you always let the world think they were mine. Don’t you ever get tired of being in the shadow of your own puppet?”

  Oni glared at him, but there was friendly affection hidden in it. “Chidi, you are anything but a puppet. I have served you for more than fifteen years, and I’ve seen how hard you have worked to protect the people of Tindouf. When Belkacem apportioned our resources to benefit Algiers, you fought against him and almost faced prison, but you prevailed. There is no one better to serve as our first president than you.”

  “But you still refuse to take a post in the new government?” Chidi asked. “You could be vice president, the people would not object.”

  “I prefer, my good friend, to remain in your service. I do not believe I could bear the stress of political life, but I have learned that you are not so much a politician as a man who loves his people. Together, I think we have found ways to do things that neither of us might have accomplished alone. Do you disagree?”

  “Not at all, Oni. I know full well that I would not be where I am today without your wisdom and advice, and I am incredibly grateful for both. We are about to enter a new age for all of us, and I do not know how I could go further without you, but I also do not wish to keep you from the rewards you have earned. Our new country owes you a great debt, and I will make certain that the people know this.”

  Once more, Oni bowed his head modestly. “I need no accolades, and no reward. The freedom of our people is the reward we have both sought for so long, and now you are making it come to fruition. Only let me continue to serve, and I am happy.”

  They entered one of the many huts in the area and were greeted by a woman who led them through a curtain, to where her elderly husband was waiting. He was sitting on a bench at a table, and invited them to sit and join him as he ate shakshouka, a dish of eggs poached in a tomato sauce and covered with diced vegetables.

  “A pleasure,” Chidi said, as the old woman spooned eggs and sauce onto plates for both of them. “We thank you, Doctor Benyamina. I trust you have been well, and your wife and family?”

  Benyamina smiled. “We are as we are. And you, old friend?”

  “I have been well,” Chidi said. “I have been busy, as you can imagine, but all will be finished as of today. Are your people ready for the events to come?”

  “We have been ready for many years, Chidi. Algiers has ignored our province for decades, either letting us wallow in poverty or raping our resources to enrich the rest of the country. It is time for us to stand up for ourselves, and I only give thanks to Allah that I have lived to see this day come.”

  “It could not have come without you, old friend. You, and those who worked with you in secret are the true heroes of our cause. O
ne day soon, I shall be able to throw back the veil that has kept you hidden for so long.”

  Benyamina grinned, his toothless mouth stretching across his wizened face. “I was among the first to speak out for independence more than twenty years ago, as you know very well. Syphax Rezgui and I were the ones who devised the cell system that kept us all out of prisons, though I suspect that is no secret any longer. Only the government’s fear of the younger ones in our movement keeps me from being arrested these days.”

  “As long as it works,” Oni said, his own smile showing his reverence for the old rebel. “But I think there have been enough rumors of your death to confuse the issue. I heard four different stories in the past month alone, how you fought off eighteen soldiers before they got you, or how you outran an assassin for more than an hour before your heart gave out. And, of course, we have taken pains to keep your location a great secret, as well.”

  “Indeed,” the old man replied. “Without your help, I think someone would have collected a bounty on me by now. Perhaps I should just be grateful in general, and not worry about how I have managed such a long life?”

  The three of them shared a chuckle at the joke, and fell to eating and small talk. They spoke of mutual friends, Benyamina told stories of his great-grandchildren, and Chidi boasted of his own year-old grandson. Oni had no children, and so he only spoke admiringly of the little ones.

  When they were finished eating, and Benyamina’s wife had left them alone, Chidi looked into the old man’s eyes. “We are only hours from our declaration of secession,” he said. “All of the arrangements have been made, and it will be broadcast from my office. Will you come and be beside me for this moment of history?”

  “Allah be praised, Chidi, I would love to be there, but this is a time for the political minds to be wary. You don’t need an old revolutionary, even a quiet one like me, to cast the hint of treachery over this day. Make your announcement, and let the world see men of words acting to make this a peaceful transition, rather than a violent one. We have accomplished this marvel without resorting to the tactics of the jihadists, without resorting to any kind of violence. Bask in the glory, old friend.”