Julia broke their kiss and smiled, motioned for him to follow her as she hopped in the direction of the bedroom, she was in her bra and panties only now, and the light cutting into the room from between the blinds showed the magnificence of her body, her smooth tight skin on her legs, her perfectly round buttocks, and her well defined shoulders, Gary could only follow, and at this moment the certainty of killing Julia had left his mind.
***
July 4th, 1976 18:00
Rosenblatt Stadium was alive with bi-centennial celebration. Thousands were in attendance for pre-game activities. The minor league baseball that would take place later in the evening was right now taking a backseat to festivities.
A large barbecue was taking place in the parking lot. Air castles were set up for the kids to bounce in. There had been a nice break in the heat and the improved weather had contributed to the fantastic turnout.
By 7:00 PM the crowd had moved into the stadium. Everyone was happily awaiting the pre-game entertainment. There was to be a speech from a state Senator, and several renditions of patriotic songs. Later in the evening after the sunset there would be a fantastic fireworks display and a live feed of the president’s address to the nation would be piped through the stadium’s speakers. Before everything could begin the opening ceremony had to happen. For that ceremony a local group of children were going to sing America the Beautiful.
The children walked out single file from the visitors’ dugout. There were twenty-four of them, ranging in age from seven to fifteen. Between the pitcher’s mound and home plate there was a single microphone. The children filed in youngest in the front forming a semicircle. Ten filled in the front row and the rest moved in behind filling the double row, the two tallest boys stood on the outside of the semicircle, bookending the rest of the group.
A nine year old girl on the front row stepped forward one step from the rest of the group, as she sang her voice was strong and clear echoing through the stadium, “O beautiful for spacious skies...”
The crowd was standing, some of them quietly sang along. As she reached purple mountains the girl stepped back in line and was now joined by the rest of the ensemble. The stadium and the surrounding area was filled with the perfect harmony of young a Capella voices, some in attendance had tears welling up in their eyes, the performance was beautiful. Combined with the immense sense of national pride for many it was a very emotional experience. “...And crown thy good with brotherhood...”
There was an intense flash from the base of the wall in left field. It was followed swiftly by two more to each side of it, and then two more, the flashes spaced fifty feet apart and moving away from each other around the perimeter of the stadium. Although some would never hear it each flash was soon followed by a thunderous concussion.
As the explosions moved around the stadium, chunks of concrete were hurled into the air, jagged and entrained with rebar they became lethal missiles. In left field there were severed limbs and bits of broken seat backs already falling in the green grass.
Even as the explosions finished the structure was crumbling and falling behind the visitors’ dugout, a massive fire had started behind first base, and was rolling up through the stands.
The explosions stopped on either side of home plate. The area just behind the plate was left virtually untouched. Dust was filling the air as more pieces of structure fell. The crowd was screaming and coughing. Those who could still walk were trying to move away from the fire or falling concrete. Others, helplessly crippled or unconscious were crushed or burned as the initial damage initiated secondary damages.
The area had become almost unrecognizable as a baseball stadium, were it not for the field, left almost pristine not accounting for the debris and body parts strewn about, and the seats directly behind home plate there would be nothing that would discern the once proud stadium from any other pile of rubble left behind from the correct application of high explosives.
The smell of explosives lingered in the air almost overpowered by the concrete dust and the fire still raging from the gas line that burst near first base. There were people running everywhere in all directions, some were looking for loved ones. One woman was desperately trying to push the intestines back into her husband’s abdomen. One man with a missing right arm, was wandering around a small area. His arm was bloody pulp just below the elbow, he had found his right hand, two fingers were missing from it and he was rummaging through the rubble looking for the missing digits. There were bodies so mutilated they could not be identified as human.
Everywhere there were people in the early stages of shock, some were running into the danger, some away. Everywhere there was confusion, and there was hysteria. The people who were still alive were all only in their bubble, only paying attention to their world. Only those who had experienced the confusion of battle seemed to know how to react.
There were at least two people however, who were not thinking of themselves. Two men who had one life to think about above their own. Those two men were moving Randall Donovan through the crowd and away from the danger blooming with in the stadium. Randall was the commander in chief of the Strategic Air Command. Randall’s granddaughter was the small girl that started the rendition of America the Beautiful.
No one noticed the two air force uniformed men hovering over the general, no one noticed as they pushed through shocked and injured survivors, and no one noticed the service pistols they had drawn, one covering the way forward and the other scanning the side and rear.
General Donovan was shouting for them to turn back, to check on his daughter who had gone down near the field to take photographs. He shouted for them to check on his granddaughter whom he had last seen in front of the pitcher’s mound as they finished the last verse of America the Beautiful. Donovan knew the protocol however, and the men would not turn from their direction, they would move only forward, they would attempt to get the general to cover. Ultimately they had to get him back to the hardened facility at Offutt.
The state of readiness had been increased at United States bases worldwide, anticipating either terrorist threats or preemptive attacks from the Soviet Union. A celebration such as a bicentennial can be a target with great moral significance to the public. Through the stadium they went, rubble and human body parts were strewn everywhere, the concrete dust was biting at their eyes and making it difficult to breathe. On each side of them, wounded people were begging for help reaching out for men they saw as able bodied, reaching out for some kind of life line to pull them away from the hell they were in. The two man team quickly pushed up the stands and into the corridor that lead to the exit. At the entrance to the corridor they stopped briefly to survey for any damage to the concrete structure they were about to pass through, as satisfied as they could be in the situation, they moved on.
When they broke through to the other side the south wind was clearing the dust from their line of sight on the outside. On the inside, the stadium had been darkened by the overhanging dust and smoke shielded by what was left of the stadiums structure. But at the entrance the air was clear, the late afternoon sun shining brightly.
With his head down, and his protectors on both sides of him, General Donovan ran to the Air Force Lincoln sedan they had arrived in and he dove into the back seat. The two members of his security detail took post in the front, starting the car and aiming it from the parking lot.
***
Gary heard the phone ring, and he looked across the street. The pay phone rang again, two people passed it, neither answered. A car passed his line of sight, horns were honking. Another person, a woman this time walked past the phone, she looked at it but did not stop to answer.
The light of day is hazy and the air is heavy and humid, the heat works away at him even as he sits. “Why won't someone answer the phone?” He is thinking. The next man comes along, tan pants, light blue shirt, and sandals. He looks at the phone, and stops. Gary sips the hot beer from the table in front of him, he watches the small man with d
ark skin, holding the hand of his toddler son. The man reaches for the phone handle and as it rings one last time he picks the receiver up and the street turns to fire. Gary shields his face as the glass window blows in.
He opens his eyes, lowering his arm that had shielded his face, and he hears the phone ring again. Julia is setting up next to him, her naked body almost luminescent in the fading daylight of a bedroom window. Gary looks around, confused for just a second, and she answers.
“Hello.”
He notices a long pause as her posture changes, as she looks around the room, looks at him, and then to the doorway. She responds to the person on the other end of the line, “Yes. Understood. Two minutes.”
“Milo, I have to leave. Something has happened, and I have to go.”
“What? Where are you going?”
She does not answer right away, but she stands and begins to get dressed, pants this time, no skirt, flat shoes, she rolls her hair into a bun and heads for the door.
“I don't know how to explain, Milo; I want to see you again, I need to see you again. I know you have to leave, but I hope that you will call me when you can.”
Gary is dressing as quickly as she does, the white hands of his watch are telling him it is 19:06 and he realizes she should have been dead thirty minutes ago. He has never missed a window, never failed to come in on the money, and he knows he needs to make up for lost ground.
He is following her down the hall, “Julia, can you just stop for a second and tell me what the hell is going on?” He is stalling, she is already in the living room when Gary remembers that his pants are in there as well, and the dagger.
She keeps moving through the room and to the door, Gary see the pants, and grabs them by the waist, she looks back at him smiling, “Milo, please call me, I will explain all of this when this is fixed.”
Gary slides his pants on, and the shirt from the floor, and as he is reaching for the dagger she opens the front door, Gary can already see himself sliding forward, the three inch blade in his right hand, his left hand coming up to her forehead, the blade pointed upward. He sees how the scene will unfold, plunging the tempered steel blade into the back of her neck, feeling the friction of steel on bone as the blade parts the space between the cervical vertebrae and the base of her skull. He can already feel the weight of her body as he opens the breaker between her brain and body. He is poised, his internal spring is tightened, and he is just ready to trip the catch holding him back. The action in his mind is already done, the next three seconds will only be follow through. She pulls the door open and he sees two men with M-16’s standing on her porch, both are in Air Force Uniforms a third man is in a car running at the curb.
***
September 24, 1965
Pablo waited at the door for Gary to get out of bed. He had told Gary it was time to head to the mess hall for some breakfast. Gary walked in the slippers they had provided to him the day before, shuffling along the hall, the giant man beside him in silence.
In the cafeteria sat Fernando next to him two plates other than his own, both loaded with scrambled eggs and bacon, small cups of orange juice in front of each. Gary and Pablo took seats next to Fernando. Fernando turned to Gary, “We haven’t been officially introduced, and I am Fernando. I hope there are no hard feelings about the last couple of days, wasn’t personal hombre.”
Gary reached out hesitantly to grasp Fernando’s open hand, “Gary Cannon. Base lining right? That's what Mr. Abby called it. Sounds like that is the normal drill around here.”
This time Pablo spoke, “Not really what we do kid. You’re only the second one I’ve been around.”
“Have you guys had it done to you?”
Pablo slowly shook his head looking at the food in front of him. Fernando finished chewing his bacon, “I’ve been water boarded, but not baselined, but not by Sanford. Both of us came out of 1st FORECON, Pablo came here straight from Thailand about a year ago, and I’ve been here for the last 3 years or so.”
Gary crumpled his eyebrows, “FORECON?”
Pablo looked at Fernando, and back to Gary, a look of mild frustration, “Marines. Reconnaissance.”
“So you guys were on ships?”
“Oh, Dios. You’re really are green. We’ll get to all this kid. You’re stuck with us for a couple weeks, until you get up to speed.”
Gary nodded slowly, sipping at the orange juice, which was lukewarm. There was a tumbling in his stomach, a fear of the unknown which was to come and where this would take him.
They ate the rest of their meal in silence, the powdered eggs Gary could not get to stay on his fork so he pushed them as best he could to the side. The grits were something new to him and he found he did not like the texture of those either so he worked on the bacon. He did not know it on this Friday morning is that the bacon here would become his staple, the only thing the cook could do consistently and the only food that was familiar to him in a form he knew it.
***
Gary met with Brent after breakfast. In his office in the lower levels smoke already hanging in the air Brent sat reclined in his chair.
“Gary, did you get some rest?”
Gary nodded, “I slept.”
“And food? I trust Pablo and Fernando made sure you made it to breakfast?”
“Yes sir. I ate with them this morning.”
“Ah, good...” Brent trailed off watching the smoke drift near the ceiling.
His head shook slightly and Brent was back, “Yes well, we will begin your training now, not at this very second but starting today. You are a unique case however for a few reasons. For starters, we have never had someone your age go through our program. Not that I feel your age is an issue to the training itself. But, you have some education to finish, we will skip over the bullshit and get you the meat and potatoes. I have made some calls and have some people who will work as tutors to you. They will be flexible to the schedule we are going to be training in and they will be teaching you an abbreviated version of a high school curriculum.”
“Okay.”
“When I say abbreviated, I mean you will work at your own pace. When you finish and test out of what we consider to be essential parts of your education that portion of your training will be complete. You should realize that this will be a general equivalency degree or sorts, not much different from the way children working in the movies are getting educated. We can continue to provide you with courses of study following your completion of your G.E.D. and I would encourage you to explore those as knowledge, any knowledge can be useful in your future profession.”
“You offer college? Here?”
Brent looked around and smiled, “No, not here, let’s say that we have a far reaching influence, and as you will see as your training progresses the opportunities available through our contacts is...unique.”
“Is this just going to be me and those two giants? They have been nice enough but...I don’t know there is something.”
“Don’t worry about those two, I’ll get to your training and how it will work. We need to lay out some ground rules first. I would say for you to take note of these but, outside of your scholarly duties we don’t write anything down, we commit everything to memory. So, let’s call that rule number one, no notes. Rule two, there are no guarantees. All phases of training will have requirements, and there will be qualifications to be met if you don't meet those qualifications we will re-evaluate your path. Also, just so we are in agreement you are on the path to be a solo asset, operating with little or no support, you will be expected to kill targets and act independently. The monetary reward for operating at this level is quite high. However with that reward comes what I think is an obvious risk of being killed, imprisoned, tortured, or any combination of those. Are we on the same page?”
The words hung in the air, tortured, killed, imprisoned. The floated there in Gary’s mind as well, held there by their sheer weight. The ideas of training, being here in this bunker, failure, and the loss of his paren
ts all were outweighed by those three words. Brent had looked at him ever so calmly and said those three words with a finality that chilled him to the bone. “Were those the risks my father would have been up against?”
“Yes.” Brent took a long draw off of his cigarette and considered it, “He took those risks in a very real sense every day. First working for the US Government, later as a founder and the president of Sanford. He made enemies, killing people is a job that has that effect. Your father had those risks every day until the day that he died. This job doesn’t just get to end when you leave, this is what you become, what you are every day. Lots of good men, and some good women have sat in that chair and have made a decision to go down this path, and a lot of them found out the path wasn't what they thought it would be. Finding that out doesn't make them bad people it doesn’t make them weak, it’s just not something everyone can do.”
“I have another question.”
“Shoot.”
“You mentioned stages, qualifications, tests. What happens if the outcome isn't as desired?”
“You mean if you don't meet the scores needed to stay on track?”
“Yea.”
“Ultimately there are two choices if something like that happens. One, you can leave, you know the conditions of that now that you have started here, you’ll get your money when you turn eighteen and you can do what you like. Or two, this is big company, you are shooting for the top of the top, the one half of one percent job. You have already shown great promise, just because being out in the world making corpses isn’t in your cards doesn’t mean that we don't have other things you can do.”
Gary considered this for some time, thought about not making the cut, he had broken their system already, and he hadn’t known he was doing it. Now that he was aware he was going to shoot holes in the ship, and if for some reason at some stage he didn’t make the cut he was gone, he wouldn’t be doing “other things”.
Killing Sanford (Gary Cannon Book 1) Page 11