by T C Miller
“Not that I know of, but Sprague Lake is an easy walk and there’s a shuttle to Bear Lake.”
“Great! I’m at home in the water.”
“Keep in mind we’re at eighty five hundred feet...Water’s probably a little chilly...”
“In the summer?”
“Glacier-fed...Basically ice water till the sun warms it up. Although, after a hot climb or hike, it can feel pretty good.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Lived in Denver for a few years when I was in high school...Friends and I camped every chance we got and I worked in the park for a summer.”
“Am I the only one who lived in one little town all my life?” Licia posed the question with an intentional whine.
“You mean up till now, right?” Star commented with a laugh. “Don’t worry, girl friend...I’ll show you the world.”
Lici’s face brightened. “Sounds good...When do we start?”
“Right now, since this is part of the world...”
Gwen interrupted, “First, we need to get the camp set up and rig a food cache...”
“I’m gonna feel like a dummy again,” Star said. “But a food cache...You mean like money?”
“Wait, I know what it is,” Licia said. “A line strung between two trees with a bag hung from it for our food...Keeps animals from getting it.”
“Exactly,” Gwen replied. “Which means no food in the tents...or anything like it.”
“Like it?”
“Deodorant, cosmetics...anything with a tasty smell. While you girls rig that, I’m gonna contact the security team and make sure they’re settled in...Your friends should be checking in with them anytime.”
“Won’t they just come straight here?”
“Nobody knows where we are...Group reservations were made under a false name by my people. That’s why we told you to have your visitors check in with the security team in the RV camp. They’re in a motor home that doubles as a command post.”
“Wait,” Star said. “They’re in a cozy RV while we sleep on the ground...Not fair.”
“I’ll make a note.” Gwen grabbed the radio from her backpack and walked away from the campsite. “CP, Unit Two, over.”
“Unit 2, CP...This is Jerry, what can I do for you? Over.”
“Hey, Jer, just checking in to see what’s going on...Other guests show up yet?”
“Ten minutes ago...Dog’s almost finished searching them...He’ll escort them to you in short order.”
“Thanks, Unit 2, out.”
Dog walked into camp twenty minutes later, trailed by a ragtag bunch of a dozen college-age people. Most carried backpacks while some shared opposite ends of insulated coolers.
“Thought you said a few of her friends?” Gwen asked. “Looks like a small mob!”
“Oh, believe me, this is a few...She threw a party at the Malibu beach house a few years back and a thousand showed up...Had to call in extra security and caterers.”
“Must be nice being rich...But, she seems so down to earth...Not like the flighty airheads you see on TV,” Gwen noted.
“She’s really grounded...Just has a lot of people who like to call her friend...That’s why she invited these...Knows they aren’t after her money or fame.”
“Understood...Recognize a couple of them from the tabloids...Offspring of serious entertainment couples...Another reason we brought the command post RV, since it’s set up with first-response gear...Case there’s an injury...And my boss said our people will be here.”
“Where are they?”
“Don’t know,” she shrugged as she said it.
“So, tell me again, who are your people?”
“Can’t say.”
“Sounds like a government-spook op.”
“Can’t confirm or deny.”
“Which means you just did,” he said with a grin. “Doesn’t matter...Long as they’re johnny-on-the-spot if we need them.”
“Hopefully, not.”
JOHN BANNER’S OFFICE
SOUTH SAN FRANCISCO BAY, CALIFORNIA
“Morning, Doctor Carver,” John Banner answered the call.
“Thought you were going to call me Jim.”
“Right...What can I do for you?”
“Got results back from the Director’s drug tests...Looks like he was given a veritable cocktail of nasty chemicals.”
“How nasty?”
“Some I’ve never heard of...bio-inhibitors, immune system suppressants, and some that cause cardiac irregularities. Whoever put the mixture together knew how to incapacitate him.”
“But not kill him?”
“Apparently not...And it appears they reduced the administration of the drugs recently...”
“Wait, you mean this wasn’t a one-time thing?”
“Not at all...I talked to a couple of forensic pathologists who tell me the drugs would need to be given to him in low doses over a period of a few weeks to get to this level without killing him.”
Banner sat back in his chair and slowly exhaled. “Any idea how the drugs were administered?”
“No smoking gun...Best guess is sprinkled on his food, since he hasn’t gotten any injections...At least not that show.”
“So, it would have to be somebody close enough to do this on a regular basis without being caught.”
“A fair assessment.”
“Which comes back to his housekeeper or assistant.”
“Don’t know who else would’ve had the opportunity. But that brings up another point...the knowledge and technical expertise to produce the drugs. We’re not talking about something you get at the corner drugstore...They’re very sophisticated compounds rarely seen in medical practices.”
“What about psychiatric institutions?”
“No way...Unless they’re Nazi research hospitals.”
“Okay, follow through with that line of thinking...What about intelligence agencies?...I’m thinking Russians, Germans, even our own people.”
“You mean like the CIA?”
“Or even us...”
“NSA?” Carver asked. “It would have to be so deep cover that only the Director would know and I’m sure he’d talk to me about it...If nothing else, for advice.”
“That’s what I thought...But let’s go back to square one. We find out who administered the drugs...It may lead to who ordered it.”
“True...So how do we start?”
“No idea, but we’ll have to come up with it in a hurry...Director won’t be safe until we pin this down.”
***
CHAPTER 14
MAIN GATE
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN COMPLEX
“Feel like shooting somebody just to relieve the boredom...Weekend shifts are the pits,” John Martin, a first-term Security Policeman, said to his gate partner, Mark Erickson.
“I heard that...Missed another night of partying...And have to hit the sack in a few hours till the Vikings play the Bears.”
He looked down the road. “Wonder who this is, coming in on a Sunday?”
“Looks like a CE van.”
The Air Force-blue step van rolled to a leisurely stop as Bantam yanked the sliding door open. “Morning,” he offered, while chewing a powdered doughnut.
“Morning, sir...ID and work order, please.”
“Right.” Bantam handed over a plain brown clipboard and a driver’s license with powdered sugar prints.
He yawned broadly and finished with a slow remark, “Hate weekend jobs...But, at least, I’ll get some comp time.”
“Yes, sir,” the young airman replied as he shook the sugar from the clipboard. “Paperwork’s good...How long you expect to be inside?”
“Not long...What you think, Bill?” He turned slightly and addressed his co-driver.
“Who knows?” Buster replied in an annoyed tone. “Depends on whether they set everything up before they left on Friday.”
The young guard made a note on his copy of the entry paperwork. “Should do it...Just need to s
ee in the back.”
“Wha...Why?”
“New policy...Supposed to check all vehicles for weapons.”
“Weapons?...We’re painters...Think we’re gonna attack you with spray cans...Leave you all pink and green or something?”
“Been some overseas attacks...Supposed to follow protocol to the letter...Appreciate it if you’d open the back doors.”
“Suit yourself, junior.” Bantam hopped down and led the guard to the back of the van. He pulled one of the double doors open to reveal two figures dressed in white coveralls.
Pit Bull stepped out and stabbed the young guard multiple times in the chest with a wicked looking, double-edged blade while Bantam and Twister held him up. They each took an arm and lifted him into the back of the van.
“Didja have to stab him so many times?” Bantam whined. “Got blood on my uniform.”
Pit Bull rolled his eyes. “So sorry...We’ll get you a nice clean uniform when this is over.”
Senior Airman Erickson had been watching from his post next to the panic alarm, but could only see feet and legs from his position. He glanced up at the figure in the passenger seat ten feet from him.
Buster shrugged and grinned.
Erickson broke protocol and moved away from the alarm panel until he faced the closed door on the passenger’s side. “Sir, would you please step out of the vehicle?”
His tone said it was an order, not a request.
“Why? I’m nice and comfortable in here,” Buster said through the glass.
“I said step down, and I mean now,” Erickson said in a loud and very firm voice as he brought his M161A up to the ready position.
“Okay, okay...Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Buster pushed the door open and shot Erickson in the face with a suppressed pistol hidden below the lip of the window.
The young Vikings fan fell backward with eyes wide open in a vacant stare as his rifle clattered to the pavement.
“Hey, give me a hand here,” Buster commanded.
Pit Bull and Bantam helped him wrestle the lifeless body into the back of the van.
“Protocol says the gate guard has to announce us...Bull, you wanna do the honors?”
“Why not?” Pit Bull replied as he stripped the guard of his radio and microphone. Buster handed him a cue card and he read.
“Control Center One, EP One, with a step van coming in.”
“EP One...Who is this?...Where’s Martin?”
“Got sick...I’m filling in.”
“I say again, who is this?”
“Airman Vandenburg...Got tapped to sub on my first day...Ain’t life grand?”
“Not on the duty roster...Nobody called in a change.”
“Like I said, brand new...Fresh out of tech school.”
“Where’s Erickson?”
“Took Martin to the clinic...Said he’d be back in time to finish the shift.”
“Ain’t right...Shoulda called in before leaving their post...Have to call the flight chief...”
“Whatever...Got a car to check in.”
“Wait...”
Pit Bull laughed and threw the radio to the asphalt. It shattered into a dozen pieces. “Takes care of that...Let’s go have some fun.”
OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR, NSA
WASHINGTON, DC
Justin Todd hung up the phone and stared at nothing in particular. The Director rambled a bit, but seemed like he was recovering from the drugs and would be in on Monday.
He called the secretarial pool to cover the phones, grabbed the sat phone from the bottom drawer, and headed for the elevator.
Twenty minutes later Justin parked in his usual spot and punched in the number. He glanced in his rear view mirror and noticed a delivery van pull up to the curb less than a hundred feet behind him. The driver made a show of checking a clipboard, as if looking for an address.
Justin could see a faint image through the tinted windshield of a figure moving around in the back of the van. His stomach churned and he felt like throwing up. He disconnected the call and drove away.
After a quick left turn at the corner, he went three blocks and turned left again. Another left two blocks later completed the sequence.
It was a simple maneuver his handler taught him to detect a tail and it worked. The white van turned left the first two times, but stopped in the middle of the intersection when he turned the third time. The driver aborted the third turn.
They should have painted Government Tail on the side of the plain white vehicle, Justin thought. He turned left again and returned to his calling spot.
His handler answered as if they were continuing a conversation, “I know, the Director’s returning to work four days from now.”
How does he know things so fast? “We can deal with that later...I was tailed here by a plain white van.”
“You positive?”
“I did the three-left-turn thing and they broke off after two turns...What shall I do?”
“Try not to panic...Probably a routine investigation to see if you’re going some place for illicit activities...like sex or drugs.”
“They know me better than that...Perhaps it is time I took an extended vacation...”
“With the Director coming back to work on Monday?...Forget it. The crew tailing you will report you used a classic routine to shake them. Ask for vacation time now and you might as well paint a target on your back.”
“I could tell them I need time off for a family emergency.”
“They’ll know better, so don’t draw attention to yourself. Let them think you were going out to call a girlfriend...I can provide a back story with a real woman.”
“You can?” Justin felt a moment of relief.
“Been doing this a long time...Think you’re the first operative to get into a jam?”
“No, but I assumed...”
“Don’t...Maintain your current routine and make sure you get rid of anything to do with us, in case your office and home are searched...Although, if they’ve gotten to the point of tailing you, they probably already searched both. I’ll double-check the alarm system record for your home...”
“There have been no alarm activations.”
“I forget you’re new...Pros know how to bypass a system so there’s no record. The search I’ll order will bring up a list of all entries and exits...We’ll know if they were there.”
Justin felt his stomach constrict again. He took a deep breath to calm himself and continued, “They did not find anything if they were...I keep both home and office free of incriminating items.”
“Then, let’s hope they found nothing. I’ll also send a team over to search for bugs of any kind. They’ll be disguised as exterminators...Somebody’s idea of a pun. Where do you keep anything related to our business?”
“I keep nothing...Except for the sat phone.” They do not need to know about the gym locker. “It has biometric access protection as well as encryption. Everything else is committed to memory.”
“You have a photographic memory?”
“No, simply a well-trained one...I also use mnemonics.”
“Whatever. Anyway, back to your question...You need to be at work on Monday to deflect scrutiny from you. If the Director suspects a leak, he’ll be watching the people around him. Which means, you may want to implicate someone else.”
“Marvin Hawkins is a likely candidate...He practically begs to be hoisted by his own petard.”
“All right, then...Think it through this weekend...Make sure your misdirection is airtight...Do it subtly and they’ll believe you. From what you’ve said, it won’t take much to point them toward Hawkins.”
“Indeed. By the way, do you think I will be required to explain the satellite phone?”
“Doubt it...Back story should be enough...Wealthy, paranoid uncle who lives on a remote island in the Caribbean and only communicates by sat phone. We spoofed my phone so it appears my calls are coming from him. I’ll get a fact sheet to you with the rest of th
e info.”
“Sooner, rather than later, would be best.”
Nothing but dead air came from the handset. Justin started the engine and pulled away from the curb. He checked the rear view mirrors half-a-dozen times on the way back to the office.
The tracking device planted under the rear bumper of Justin’s car transmitted the location of his vehicle to within three feet. It had been placed there, along with a bug inside the car, when he dashed into a coffee shop on the way to work that morning.
The van with the tracking equipment followed from a safe distance.
“Hey, Glen,” the figure in back said. “Get closer...I’m losing the signal.”
“Afraid he’ll make us again. Wish we had time to switch vans, or have a backup crew.”
“Orders say maintain unbroken coverage till he returns to the office...Besides, we got some good stuff...Even if it was just his side of the conversation.”
“He’s turning left into the NSA complex...Tail’s over. How ‘bout lunch?”
“Best idea you’ve had today.”
ENTRANCE VESTIBULE
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN COMPLEX, CO
Staff Sergeant Kade Cummings was alone in the security entry point into the underground facility. Three other guards were on roving patrol and a fourth had gone to the rest room. Two guards stood watch on the massive airlock door that sealed off the mountain from the outside world. It was open at the moment to allow routine access.
Kade reached for the radio to call the Flight Chief about the unexplained absence of the two gate guards when he remembered the phone call with his girl friend.
The shadow of a vehicle approaching the entrance vestibule barely registered in his peripheral vision.
He could have hit the button to raise the pop-up, anti-vehicle barricade that protected access to the twenty-thousand pound blast door before he picked up the phone.
He could have pulled the lever on the control panel that started the closing sequence for the steel bank vault-like door.
He would have done all of those things, if he had been following strict protocol. But, he wasn’t. Instead, he picked up the phone with one hand and the radio mike with the other. “Ivy, baby, I can’t just switch shifts for your niece’s baptism...Inspection coming up...Have to get ready. Hold on a sec...FS-1, EP Control, do you copy?”