by Robert Boren
Albena laughed. “Pick yourself up. You’re okay.”
“This is concrete,” he said, standing slowly, rubbing his backside. They entered the top floor, with it’s mahogany paneled walls and wooded furniture.
“My, isn’t this nice?” Albena said.
Penko grinned. “He’s got the corner office.”
They walked to the closest corner, which had an office belonging to somebody they didn’t recognize, then went to the next one, across the long span of the floor, with two fancy secretary’s desks and an ornate mahogany counter in front.
“Oh, this has to be it,” Albena said. “That looks like an antique.” They walked to the door and tried the knob, which was locked.
“That opens in,” Penko said, rearing back his right leg and kicking several times, the door flying open, slamming into a display case inside, breaking one of the glass panes. “Oops.”
“I don’t think that pig cares anymore. I’ll take the file cabinet. You take the desk.”
Penko went behind the desk, looking at the various drawers, pulling the file-cabinet-sized drawers open first. “Not even locked.”
“Neither are these,” Albena said, opening the top drawer and pulling out files, setting them on the table next to the cabinet.
“If we find something, we take pictures with our phones and send them out,” Penko said. “Right away.”
“Why?”
“There’s a good chance someone is coming here to secure this stuff,” Penko said, “and they might kill us before we can get away with it.”
“Shit,” Albena said. “You’re right. Err on the side of caution. Take pictures of anything that might be remotely valuable.”
Penko nodded, pulling files out of the top drawer and spreading them onto the desktop, shoving the little knick-knacks onto the floor to make room.
{ 17 }
Battering Ram
B en was in the intel room, eyes glued to his laptop, the others there working with him. The message board he was on came alive with stories from England. The more he read, the faster his heart was beating. “Something big just happened.”
“Something big has been happening over and over for the last five hours,” Morgan quipped.
“What you say?” Jules asked, leaving Shelly’s side.
“Look at this,” Ben said, turning his laptop so Jules could see the screen.
Jules read it, a grin spreading over his face. “I call boss.”
“What happened?” Jane asked.
“Charles Livingston and Jean Caron have been killed in Manchester.”
“England?” Robbie asked. “How reliable is the story?”
“There’s pictures of their bloody bodies,” Ben replied, just as Ivan rushed in.
“Let’s see,” he said, getting next to Ben.
“Do you know what they look like?” Morgan asked. “I can bring up pictures to compare.”
“That’s them all right,” Ivan said. “I’ve been studying these guys for a while now. Does it say who killed them?”
“MI6 and Scotland Yard agents,” Ben said.
George and Malcolm walked in, eating energy bars they got from the kitchen.
“Uh oh, what happened?” George asked.
Frank turned towards them. “Charles and Jean are taking a dirt nap.”
“Frank!” Jane said, shaking her head, Robbie and Morgan snickering.
“We sure about that?” Malcolm asked.
“It appears to be true,” Ivan said. “There’s a picture of the bodies, but that’s easy enough to fake. There are reports saying that MI6 and Scotland Yard are responsible, and they come from a source I trust.”
“I agree,” Ben said. “They’re toast.”
“So where does that put us?” Jane asked.
“I’m reading a release from BBC now,” Jasmine said, Jerry next to her, reading over her shoulder.
“Says that Rayan Mertins got away,” Jerry said. “He’s probably the most dangerous of them to us.”
“He’s the hired help,” Ivan said. “Charles was the leader.”
“Does that mean their group will fall apart?” Heidi asked.
“Their group has already fallen apart,” George said.
Malcolm chuckled. “Well, it was bad enough that they fled this country. That falls into line with other stories I’ve been following. All of the principles have gone into hiding.”
Dick and Ned Branson walked in with General Hogan, all of them stopping in their tracks.
“What now?” Ned asked. Clara came to his side, putting her arm around his waist, her brow furrowed.
“It’s good news,” Ivan said. “MI6 and Scotland Yard killed Charles and Jean in Manchester.”
General Hogan smiled. “That’s a huge break. Who’s got the story up?”
“I’ve got the BBC report up,” Jasmine said. “Take a look.”
General Hogan got in front of her monitor and read, Ned and Dick reading over his shoulder.
“We can’t let our guard down,” George said. “They’ll regroup in a hurry, and there might be operations still running that were started and paid for by our buddy Chuck.”
Malcolm shook his head. “That’s possible, but Charles wasn’t the most dangerous of them.”
“Who do you think the most dangerous is?” Dick asked.
“Lance Evans.”
***
Willard, Garrett, Clem, and Sid went down into the intel room. Ed was already there with Ji-Ho, Elmer, Susanne, Yvonne, and Sarah. Anna poked her head in the door, Mia with her.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, just a planning session, but don’t let anybody else know we’re down here, okay?”
“Are you in trouble?” Mia asked.
Garrett chuckled. “No, sweetie. We just don’t want any interruptions, that’s all.”
“Okay, we’ll be in the next room if you need us,” Anna said. They left the intel room.
“Okay, we know we have a plant at Dodge City,” Garrett said. “How do we find them?”
“The recruits were pretty much gone before we floated the rumor,” Willard said. “A couple stragglers. They’re gone now.”
“Could’ve been one of them,” Ed said, “but I doubt it. Do you have a roster of the residents that we can check against, to know if anybody’s left? I can do that with the tribe.”
“I’ve been keeping records,” Willard said, a grim look on his face. “Been marking off the dead. Someday I’d like to do a memorial. Maybe place the cannon around it.”
“I like the memorial idea,” Garrett said. “I’ve got the ranch foreman and his assistant. They’ve worked with me for years. I trust them both. I want to have a chat with them. They’d know if anybody is gone from our core group, because they’ve been scheduling the patrols.”
“Maybe there’s something we can do to monitor cell traffic,” Clem said. “I’ll study up on it.”
“Yes, and I’ve got some ideas there too,” Elmer said.
“We should bring Seth and Kaitlyn into this,” Ed said. “They know how to hack. Maybe they could find out what the cell traffic was like before each of the events.”
“Yeah, why aren’t they here, anyway?” Yvonne asked.
“They were on watch last night,” Garrett said. “In their battle wagon, up by the front of the property. Figured I’d let them sleep. Same with Angel and Megan.”
“Trevor and Kaylee too,” Ji-Ho said.
Yvonne chuckled. “They’re the only young people we have left. They can handle the whip-sawing of their sleeping times better than us old-folk.
“Old folk?” Willard asked with a grin. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’ll get with them when they get up,” Clem said. “We’ll work the cellphone angle.”
“Nobody has any reason to leave town for the next couple weeks?” Garrett asked.
“Not that I’ve heard,” Sarah said.
“Yeah, I haven’t heard about anybody planning
to leave town either,” Willard said. “The saloon is grand central for news like that. I think the citizens are taking our warnings to heart.”
“We’re fully stocked,” Susanne said. “No reason to go tramping around outside of the property.”
“Kaitlyn and Seth want to get married,” Sarah said. “They were talking about it yesterday.”
“Tyler was going to do that,” Ed said, choking up for a moment.
“You could do it, right?” Garrett asked.
“I could if they want me to,” Ed said, “but they’d want to go through a civic service with a marriage license too.”
“Well, let’s discourage them from leaving the property until we sort this out,” Garrett said. “We don’t want to lose anybody else. Especially young people.”
“We’ve got enough tasks to do now,” Clem said.
Ed nodded. “Yep, we should get to it. A simple check of our lists against the current population may be enough. Might not have to get fancy.”
The team left the room to get busy.
***
Jared Carlson was in his basement lab, looking at a video display from his electron microscope. It showed a group of Nano bots trying to link together into a mesh.
“There you go, almost,” Jared whispered to himself, adjusting the power input slightly, causing them to connect more firmly, and then there was a flash and most of them dissolved. “Dammit, too much juice.”
“Sir, multiple trespassers coming from three directions,” said a robotic voice through his house speakers.
“Son of a bitch. Thanks, B6.” He rolled on his chair, getting in front of his video surveillance screen. “Put each group on screen, side by side, and enhance.”
We watched as the ultra-high-quality picture displayed. There were three vehicles coming. Two four-wheel drive trucks and a surplus army personnel carrier with a turret on top.
“Wonder where they got that beauty?” he muttered to himself. “Maybe I’ll capture it. B6, deploy robots.”
“All of them, sir?” B6 replied.
“We’ve got no choice, I’m afraid. Prepare the drone as well. We’re likely to have problems with that armored vehicle.”
“Robotic fighters deployed around the perimeter of the house,” B6 said. “Interior robots deployed on the ground floor.”
“Thank you,” Jared said. “Let me know when that drone is ready to take off. Prepare the second one as well.”
“Sir, might I suggest the speeder for the armored vehicle? Its main gun will suffice, according to my calculations.”
Jared thought about it for a moment. “Prepare her, but we’ll use that as a last resort. How close are they?”
“Group one is six-hundred meters and closing. Group two is nine-hundred meters and closing. Group three has stopped at one kilometer.”
Jared looked at the surveillance screen, which now included the labels, groups one and two for the trucks, group three for the armored vehicle.
“Sir, the armored vehicle has aimed its turret at the residence.”
“Activate counter measures,” Jared said calmly.
“They might not have the velocity to successfully hit a chemically-powered projectile.”
Jared chuckled. “Call them cannon rounds, please.”
“Cannon rounds, sir. The counter measures were designed for missiles, which are slower.”
“Yes, B6, I know,” Jared said, getting up and walking to the wall, looking at the control panel for bunker mode.
“Sir, I suggest you activate bunker mode. If the counter-measures miss the projectile, the damage might prevent us from using that mode.”
Jared thought about it for a moment. His solution for the water leak problem was a large holding tank that disconnects from the main water source, instead of flexible lines that un-wound as the house sank below ground level.
There was a loud boom, and then the sizzle of a rocket launching from the roof. The ground shook with an impact.
“Sir, the counter measure did not hit the projectile, but the projectile was not targeted correctly, and hit the ground twelve meters in front of the residence.”
“Well, here goes nothing,” Jared said, pushing the big red button on the control panel. Another robotic voice said identify. Jared moved closer and looked into an eyepiece, his retina scanned. The robotic voice said approved. The house moved downwards quickly as another cannon shot went off.
“Countermeasure missed again,” B6 said. “Projectile flew over the house.” A second later Jared felt the concussion as it landed.
“How far?” he asked.
“Sir, the projectile was targeted for the second floor, and arrived after the residence had dropped below the point of impact. It landed on the ground sixty meters in back of the house. Deployment of bunker mode completed, top sealed. No leaks sir, and life support systems functioning perfectly. Would you like to deploy the periscope?”
“Please, and switch the output to the display screen. How close are the vehicles now?”
“Groups one and two stopped when they saw the house descend below ground level, sir. Group three remains in its position.”
“Good. Launch the drone.”
“Launched, sir.”
“Thank you,” Jared said, looking at his laptop screen, which switched to the drone video feed. “Think it’s time to try the new laser, B6?”
“It has not been tested in combat, sir. You always say never to scrimp on testing.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, typing on his laptop keyboard, bringing up a target reticle over the drone feed while charging up the laser. “I’ll target that rather large man standing in front of the first truck.”
“Group one, sir.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, aiming and firing the laser, the man clutching his chest, frozen, then slumping to the ground, the men around him firing their machine guns at the drone.
“It appears to have worked, sir.”
Jared chuckled. “Yes, but it’ll take too long without automated targeting. Firing missiles at both of the trucks.”
“Group one and Group two, sir.”
“Remind me to adjust your responses. You’re too literal.” Jared locked in the target vectors and clicked fire, two missiles flying, the men by the trucks attempting to run, large explosions going off at each, killing all the men.
“Why did you leave the most dangerous vehicle alone, sir?”
“I’m a collector. I want it to have as little damage as possible.”
Jared targeted the armored vehicle, which was turning to leave, hitting it with a sustained blast from the laser.
“You’ll overheat the element doing that,” B6 said.
“Again, I’ll take it under advisement.” He watched the screen, the temp warning bar for the drone showing up on the right side of the screen now. Jared turned off the laser. “It’ll continue to cook when it’s out of the oven, just like a turkey.”
“Was that humor, sir?”
“Yes, you should laugh.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha,” B6 said.
“We need to work on that. The hatch just opened, and men are climbing out.” He watched, waiting for four men to get out. They ran, trying to make it over the small hill to the north. “Guess I’ll go the old-fashioned way.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha,” B6 said.
“That wasn’t a joke.” Jared brought up the machinegun target reticle and fired, killing all four men. “B6, scan that vehicle for biologicals.”
“It’s too hot, thanks to the sustained laser blast, sir. You might have damaged the unit.”
“I’ll check it. You can bring the drone back in, but send two robots to each location please.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Jared watched as the headless torsos of his robots moved out, their normal legs replaced with triangular tracks. While he waited for them to get to the locations, he pulled out his satellite phone and sent a text to Ivan.
***
Ivan rushed through the open door to General Hogan’s quarters. “There was an attempted hit on Jared Carlson.”
General Hogan turned towards him. “Oh no. Did he survive?”
Ivan nodded yes. “He used his toys to take them all out.”
“He did, huh. Where’d it happen? Hopefully not the Missoula plant.”
“No, his private residence in Wyoming.”
General Hogan’s brow furrowed. “How’d they find out he was funding us, and how’d they find out the location?”
“That’s what he’d like to know.”
“Think it’ll scare him away? That would hurt us.”
“No, his blood is up,” Ivan said. “He’s still coming here day after tomorrow. Says he’s got some new toys for us.”
“I’ll just bet he does. We should talk to the rest of the group about this. I’ll send a text out to meet in the intel room. Most of them are already there.”
“Do that,” Ivan said. “What do you think about what happened in England?”
General Hogan sent the text, then looked at Ivan. “England has a world of hurt to go through after this mess. Doubt we have anything to worry about with Maggie now, if she’s even still alive. I suspect Rayan Mertins has already flown the coop.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Ivan said. “We’ll see more fallout over the overrun of UN Headquarters, of course. Most countries are extremely upset with us.”
“Screw them. We’d better go.”
The two men went into the intel room, where the team was waiting.
“We have problem, boss?” Jules asked.
“Somebody tried to hit Jared Carlson at his residence in Wyoming.”
“Dammit,” Frank said.
Ivan told them the story.
“Well, partner, sounds like job one is to find out how they knew he was one of our funders,” Tex said. “He’s really coming here? Maybe he ought to stay put.”
“He says he’s coming,” Ivan said. “Could be that he changes his mind.”
“They know where he is now,” Ted said.
“Yeah,” Jane said. “We all know what that’s like. He might be in for a continuing series of attacks now.”