Legacy of a Mad Scientist

by John Carrick

  Fox was fed twice a day, once in the morning and once at evening, through a plastic airlock. He never saw any of his guards.

  There was a small bathroom attached to his cell. The water pressure was weak, but it beat the “single drain“ alternative.

  Mostly Fox sat.

  He sat, and he thought.

  He thought about the Micronix and the Metachron, and he listened.

  Fox listened to everything.

  He could hear birds, from outside, a small family of them in one of the ventilation ducts.

  During the first night, his hearing really seemed to increase.

  He could hear desert insects in their nocturnal hunts.

  At one point, a rat came into the warehouse. Fox could hear it outside his cell. Fox heard it far earlier than the guards, who spotted it using night vision lenses and shot at it, but missed.

  Fox relaxed and let the sounds come to him.

  He didn’t chase them. He just let them come.

  He could hear the guards on their patrols, about a hundred meters from the warehouse.

  There were three other buildings, two to the north and one to the east, as well as a low foothill to the southwest. As the guards passed behind the buildings, their footsteps were either muffled of reflected back. As they passed by the base of the hill, the sound almost vanished entirely.

  Fox came to know the guards, as well.

  Mickey was a wizard with a deck of cards. The cook was an Indian man, named Vickram, and the men thought he was also a genius. The youngest member of the platoon, DeLeon, spent most of his time getting razzed and took turns being mentored by the salty vets.

  Fox was astonished that Stanwood would assign an entire platoon of what were clearly some of the countries most elite soldiers, just to guard him.

  Chapter 35 – Complete the Plan

  Monday, July 13, 2308

  Much like he had in the canyon, Von Kalt spent several days occupying a patio chair and hardly moved. He ate with the troops, did some light stretching, and would occasionally go for a short walk, but ninety percent of his time was spent in the cushioned lounge chair, on the outdoor balcony.

  Monday afternoon, the secure line rang with a call from Director Stanwood. Angstrom answered and was told to put Von Kalt on.

  Deputy Director Von Kalt abruptly rose from the patio and carried the portable terminal into one of the bedrooms.

  “We need confirmation that the children are there,” Stanwood said. “We don’t need to extract them, we just need visual confirmation.”

  “I can do that, but I’ll have to send someone in to wire the place.”

  “That’s fine. But keep that final-solution team ready, just in case.”

  “Ready to go in and do what, sir?”

  “You know very well what I mean.”

  “Director Stanwood, I give you my word, as soon as the Attorney General signs a warrant for Mrs. Fox or the Fox children, my men will be standing by, ready to do their duty, to the death, if necessary. But I will not issue an unlawful order.”

  Stanwood said nothing; he just stared at his deputy.

  “If you’re asking me to have a team ready to eliminate a threat to national security, you’d better be ready to show evidence that will stand up in court of an imminent threat. My men aren’t going to go wax this guys wife and kids in a metropolitan camp. And if you send us in there on a rendition, without warrants, you know damn well it will get messy.”

  “What are you afraid of? We’re talking about two kids and a housewife. Take more men if you think you need to.”

  “Sir, as your second, I have access to all the same information you do. The same Presidential access applies to both of us. While I can’t tell my men, due to their security clearance, I can tell you. And I’m telling you, I think this is Fox’s version of an ambush. The more men we send, the more body bags we’re going to need.”

  “I will note your formal protest and add my own footnote that I heard fear and cowardice in your voice, commander.”

  “Fear and cowardice? You want subtext? Go Fuck Yourself! What do you hear in that?”

  “Shall I interpret that as a formal resignation?”

  “Whatever happened to No Women, No Kids?”

  “Whatever happened to following orders?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, this rendition will fail. There is no way we can take them alive.”

  Stanwood scowled at Von Kalt. “You took the doctor. The Doctor. You, Deputy Director Rudolph Von Kalt, took down the man who can kill with a thought.”

  Von Kalt rolled his eyes. “We can’t gas a camp facility. We can’t set the dosage low enough for the kids to survive and still knock out the adults. We should wait until the program ends and pick them up at home.”

  “He planned this, I know he did,” Stanwood muttered.

  “Still not talking then?” Von Kalt surmised.

  “That’s why we need leverage. Please tell me you understand.”

  “Look, our only option here is a covert intrusion on spider lines. They have limited internal surveillance, so we’ll have to install new cameras at night to watch during the day. We’re not even certain they’re there yet. I have scoured all their internal documents and there is no actual proof, just gaps where the proof should be.”

  “No one wants to kill a mom and her kids. That’s insane and would serve no purpose. You have to bring them in alive,” Stanwood said.

  “Glad we can agree on something,” Von Kalt replied.

  “Keep me informed.” Stanwood reached out to switch off the channel.

  “Wait, before you go… The 3AM and Black Willow files... Fox’s daughter, Ashley, is that not the same little girl in those exercises?”

  “I’ve reviewed the Black Willow data, extensively, and I have every confidence you will keep all classified material to yourself.”

  “And how come none of the vets who participated are named? It’s all code names. I couldn’t find a proper name file anywhere.”

  “Who? The vets?” Stanwood asked.

  “The subjects, the aggressors and the defenders. I get the code names, but the original name file, where is that?”

  “The project was sealed at the presidential level, only he has access to it. Since he has never accessed it, ever, our permissions aren’t enough to scan it,” Stanwood looked away, scanning a file on his desk.

  “Are you even sure it’s there?” Von Kalt asked.

  “Oh, it’s there. It has to be. Why are you looking for that anyhow? It isn’t going to help you find them,” Stanwood said.

  “Once you consider it, there’s no reason to even believe Fox ended the project. After all, if the members serve anonymously? I mean… It’s the ultimate MK Ultra. He could have sleeping agents anywhere.”

  “Now you’re catching on, deputy. Yes, he could have agents anywhere. In fact, one might say, the only way to be sure that someone was not under Fox’s control, would be to measure their opposition to him. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Von Kalt raised an eyebrow.

  “His enemies show courage in voicing their dissent,” Stanwood said.

  “Courage can be misread as ignorance,” Von Kalt countered.

  “And curiosity kills the cat,” Stanwood added. “But the cat kills everything else. Install the cameras.”

  “I’ll keep you informed.” Von Kalt switched the terminal off.

  Monday, July 13, 2308

  Croswell arrived at the public parking garage and exited his vehicle, in which he’d had his lunch, only to climb into another. This vehicle would proceed to travel aimlessly until docking at another location, allowing the Secretary to switch vehicles again.

  When Croswell was in the field, he preferred to be careful. These days, he considered anywhere away from his home base of the capital to be the field. He flooded his target city with a fleet of secret service vehicles and moved among them like an invisible pea in a shell game. Even his agents never knew whose vehicle he was
going to climb into. Doubles and drivers, disguised as himself, added to the apparent chaos, but Croswell’s security protocols had never lost a subject and were the stuff of legend.

  Fox had never appreciated the majesty of Security, but that was where Croswell shined. If Fox had listened to Croswell, ever, about anything: there was no doubt, things would be different today.

  Croswell considered calling Stanwood, but the men he’d assigned to keep an eye on the director’s office confirmed that he hadn’t shown up in three days. Besides and despite his procrastination, he’d arrived at the vehicle scheduled to deliver him to Ross’s lab.

  Seventeen minutes later, Croswell docked and walked into Ross’s observation lab. “So where the hell is he?” he asked.

  “We’ve narrowed it down to five locations. Betting money says he’d keep him close to the front lines,” Ross answered.

  “I can guarantee you he isn’t using anything military.”

  “We found seventeen undercover operations. Nine of them were already on the books at DOJ. And three more they waved us off of for diplomatic issues, I guess we’re training somebody’s someone. So, we’ve narrowed our interests down to five occupations.

  “Several military types, always in headgear out of doors and no vehicles. They’re cooking with gas or fire, nothing electric. Confirmed in Jacksonville, El Paso, Las Cruces and Tucson.

  “I thought you said five?”

  “Sorry, two in Jacksonville.”

  “So that’s out. Stanwood wouldn’t set up that close to another operation. What about Barstow?”

  “He won’t risk it. And China Lake is out too, that’s Fox’s home turf.”

  “Stanwood is old school. He’ll have at least twenty boots on the ground. And it won’t be a known operations facility. My money is on Houston or Colorado,” Croswell said.

  ‘Get this, and this is why we included Jacksonville… They all test their jamming equipment for sixty seconds, every night at two-forty.”

  “How do you know, if there’s nothing to jam?”

  Ross looked down, “ I um… Uh. I put resources in play.”

  “Please tell me you did not activate anything that generates any kind of fiscal or paper trail.” Croswell raised his hand to his forehead, pinching his brow and massaging his eyebrows.

  “No, just the Geo Syncs. And some gliders,” Ross answered.

  “Oh sure, okay. That’s fine.” Croswell waved a hand sarcastically.

  “We were over all seventeen locations, all night. These five squeaked, for sixty seconds, all at two-forty am,” Ross stated.

  “Could be he’s running multiples,” Croswell suggested.

  “I’m guessing this is Miller’s hand at play. And I’d bet every one of them is a minefield, just waiting to get tripped,” Ross said.

  “So we drop in under the cover of darkness, at two-forty, while their blind for a minute?” Croswell surmised.

  “That’s about the size of it,” Ross said.

  “Without vehicles, and jamming the frequencies during a fight, what’s their endgame?”

  “Most likely; kill the hostage, fight to the death, and a ballistic enema.”

  “That cleansing fire.”

  “No more than a hundred-eighty seconds after hostilities erupt.”

  “We can’t go in numbers. Even invisible and airborne, this is a very dangerous op. They’re waiting for us. Likely they’re all wearing custom lenses. Stanwood knows what he’s up against,” Croswell said.

  “He has no idea what he’s up against,” Ross countered.

  “I figure three of us could drop in during that sixty-second window.”

  “We’ll only get to the ground,” Croswell said.

  “I’ve got an idea about that too,” Ross answered.

  “Well, let’s hear it then?”

  “We hack their jammer, lock it in the on position. By the time they figure it out, well be in and out. If we can get airborne in less than ninety seconds, we’ll have thirty to escape the blast radius.”

  “That is tight,” Croswell said. “It would get wet and hot. It would have to get wet.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen?” Ross asked.

  Ross and Croswell laughed together.

  Chapter 36 – Master of Sand

  Monday, July 13, 2308

  After a full ten days of near motionless meditation, Fox had a very curious experience.

  He’d been listening, and he’d heard a rattlesnake out hunting lizards, as the sun set.

  One of the guards was approaching the shallow wash where the rattlesnake was hiding. Fox, in his excitement, whispered, “Look out,” fearing for the guard, who was about to step on the snake.

  The soldier paused and readied his weapon.

  The snake reacted; its rattle blasting into the otherwise tranquil evening. The soldier stepped back.

  The snake soon fell silent again.

  “What the hell?” the soldier said.

  In his cell, Fox smiled.

  Later, Fox heard the man recount the affair to his comrades.

  “I swear to you, I heard someone say ‘Look Out!’ but there was no one there.”

  Naturally, this was met with much laughter and ridicule.

  Then a hush went through the men.

  Fox suspected someone had gestured toward his plastic cell. After all, he hadn’t been given a name.

  None of them had seen him. No one spoke to him, nor he to them.

  His meals were passed through a chambered compartment.

  For all they knew, he was a terrorist of the worst order.

  Confirming his suspicions, the initial soldier spoke. “I seriously doubt a terrorist is projecting his voice, warning me about rattlesnakes.”

  “More like Jesus or a guardian angel.”

  “You ain’t got no guardian angel, fuck-tard. All you got is that rifle, and you should have used it. I heard rattler is good eating.”

  “I ain’t eating no goddamn snake!”

  They laughed.

  Fox laughed along with the soldiers, but quietly, so as not to be overheard.

  Ashley’s Journal, Monday, July 13, 2308

  This week we have classes on grappling. They’re teaching us how submission fights work and the rules about tapping out.

  Two days of wrestling, then jiu-jitsu, judo and krav maga.

  It was gross. The boys were all sweaty, and I had to wrestle them.

  Luckily though, it’s all separated into weight class, so I didn’t have to fight anyone too much bigger than me.

  I was fine with the practical instruction, the fundamentals, but when it came to the practice matches, I did not want to be rolling around with them. I’m still mad about that.

  And for the second and third rounds of the wrestling matches, you have to start down!

  In my final match, I punched the kid, Thomas, hard.

  He was bleeding, and he didn’t get up.

  I got disqualified. You’re not supposed to punch in wrestling.

  I elbowed him too, right before that, but it was totally his fault.

  He tried to put his hand between my legs.

  Then Lopez told me… “You have to follow the rules.”

  “Or what?” I asked.

  “Or you get disqualified,” he said.

  I laughed in his face.

  After dinner, I heard they have a nickname for me.

  Everest.

  Well it started as Pinyin, which is Chinese for Mount Everest.

  Then they were calling me Chomolungma, and I heard someone say Holy Mother too.

  I asked what he meant by that, and he explained.

  “We used to call you Mt. Everest, then for a while it was Pinyin, which is Chinese for Mount Everest, but now it’s mostly Everest.”

  I asked “Why Everest?”

  “Cause it’s the highest mountain in the world,” he answered.

  That was when someone else yelled out, “Chomolungma!”

  At least
they smile and nod to me now, even if we don’t talk a lot.

  And I like having a nickname.

  Everest. That’s kind of cool.

  Like how Mom used to call me Towanjica. 

  Monday Evening, July 13, 2308

  Bravo Team’s Lieutenant, Chad Welter, dropped into the camp facility a little after midnight. Disguised as a member of the maintenance staff, no one questioned him or even noticed him as he moved about the campground. He quickly located the dorm assigned to the martial arts program and just as quickly discovered that no girls were quartered there.

  He set up three cameras and withdrew, retracting his line as he went. In the martial arts hall, he placed a few more cameras, as well a few in the outdoor areas.

  On his way to the gymnastics hall, a loitering security patrol forced him to take an alternate route. He hid a dozen more cameras there. Finally, he placed another dozen in the science labs and hallways.

  He spent three hours on the facility and wasn’t seen or spoken to.

  Tuesday, July 14, 2308

  Von Kalt’s team remained glued to the monitors, the footage was analyzed, and notes were made for camera adjustments.

  The cameras in the cafeterias, science lab, computer labs and martial arts hall clearly showed Ashley and Geoff interacting with the other kids. Several of the hallway cameras caught them too, but not enough of them to determine where their rooms were, if they absolutely had to be picked up.

  That evening, Von Kalt sent in all of Alpha Team, four agents disguised as janitors. They adjusted seventeen of the original thirty-six cameras and installed another thirty-six. In and out in ninety minutes.

  Ashley’s Journal, Wednesday, July 15, 2308

  Second day of wrestling, I was up against Brandon. This time, right in the beginning, he tried to take me down, and I kneed him in the face.

  That was way more blood than Tom, but not as much as Scott, on that first day. Ever since then, it’s almost like they’re just hurting themselves on me. I’m not even really doing anything. I’m not hitting them hard; I’m just accurate.