by Chad Zunker
We had bandied about two different approaches to accessing the property. They could not have been more opposite. The first included wearing army fatigues, painting my face in camouflage, hiking through the woods for miles, maybe swimming across a swamp, digging a hole under the barbed-wire fence, army crawling across mine fields, perhaps doing hand-to-hand combat with a few former Marine boys who came across my path and basically doing my best Jason Bourne impression to get into Redrock Headquarters. Maybe have a chopper fly in and pick me up on top of the building when I’m done. It was a complex approach. The second was much more simple. I was going to walk straight into the building and grab it. And then calmly walk straight back out.
The first approach required much more skill.
The second approach required serious balls.
I chose the second. It was more my style. I was not Jason Bourne.
Natalie wasn’t so sure, but I reminded her that the only reason I ever got busted stealing cars as a teenager was because I was doing it in the dark of night, while wearing all black, and in a way that the police expected. They were looking for a guy behaving just like me. However, I never came close to being busted when I simply had the courage to drop into unlocked cars that were left momentarily unattended with the keys still in the ignition and drive calmly away. No one expected that.
Behind me, parked just off the road, was the black 1997 Honda Accord that I’d snagged outside of Chesapeake. I wore my hoodie with no cap. Just my shiny bald head. It was go time. I couldn’t sit here all night. I grabbed the small, clear case from the driver’s seat, opened it, found the tiny flesh-colored earpiece inside. I squeezed the end, as instructed, then slipped it deep into my right ear tunnel. Hidden from plain view.
“Hello?” I said. “Anyone out there?”
“Gotcha, Duke,” said Tommy into my ear. “Loud and clear.”
“How’s the view?” Natalie asked.
They were both a mile up the road, huddled inside an empty café, in front of Tommy’s laptop computer, using GPS surveillance software that Tommy was somehow very comfortable working. One quick instant message on his laptop and Tommy had high-tech surveillance gear being delivered to a random café in Southern Virginia within twenty minutes. The miniscule earpiece was delivered by a young Pakistani guy with bleached white hair who Tommy called Smokes. Tommy and a small group of his buddies could probably take over the government of Sweden within twenty-four hours, if they wanted.
“Pretty simple so far,” I replied. “One guard, one guard booth. No dogs. A few cars have gone through. They’re getting past easily. Just stopping at the gate, having their security cards scanned and the guard opens the gate for them. I think I’ve got this.”
Natalie said, “The building you’re looking for is deep inside the property. Near the back. You’ll have to pass through all of the training centers and practice grounds first.”
“You mean past the guys with machine guns and grenade launchers?”
“Yes.”
“Fantastic. No sweat.”
Natalie had checked in with a colleague who had recently covered a press event at Redrock to get an overview of the property.
“So are we ready?” I asked.
“Ready, Duke,” Tommy said. “Let’s go do it.”
I dropped into the Accord, started her up, pulled back onto the road.
I looped around the hill, took a left at a crossroads and made my way back up toward the security booth, feeling a knot in my stomach. The young security guard wore military fatigues and had a gun at his belt. There was only one guard. It wasn’t like they had several men out front with machine guns tonight.
I pulled up to the booth, lowered my window down.
The guard walked over with a digital tablet of some kind in his hand. “ID, sir?”
I handed him the Redrock Security ID I’d stolen from Elvis. The photo on Greg Carson’s ID was now a picture of me. Tommy had put the ID back together seamlessly. Tommy had also been able to check Redrock’s system and felt assured that Greg Carson had not yet been deleted. Redrock had thousands of private contractors in and out of the program at all times. I was counting on the guard not knowing Carson. I figured, if needed, I could somehow out-maneuver this one lone soldier guy and still hightail it out of there. This first security clearance would also let us know just how far we could get with Elvis as my guide.
The guard swiped the ID like a credit card on the side of the tablet.
He studied the screen. I tapped the steering wheel with my fingers, trying to appear cool.
“Stop tapping,” Natalie whispered into my ear. I settled my fingers.
Two seconds later, he handed the ID back to me. “Thank you, sir.”
He walked back to the booth, pressed a button. The gate eased open.
“We’re in,” I whispered. “Elvis has not left the building.”
I pulled the Accord through the gate. So far, I was happy with the method we chose. This was much easier than a covert swim through a swampy lake followed by an army crawl through the mud. The paved road weaved for a mile through the wooded property until I finally came upon some cleared land with several buildings. Most looked like military-style buildings, warehouses, workshops, interspersed among training facilities and fields. I gave Tommy and Natalie a play-by-play of what I was seeing. It was at this point that I noticed a few men in military fatigues with machine guns walking about. Not sure if they were guards or just doing night drills. Either way, in my current position, it was not encouraging seeing men with these types of weapons hanging over their shoulders.
If at any point this thing went south, I was going to have a very difficult time getting out. I followed the paved road and passed a row of bunkhouses, at least six of them. Then I passed an asphalt lot next to a massive hanger with a half dozen military helicopters parked out front. Some of them had Redrock’s bull-shaped logo printed on the outside. Tommy had been able to pull property and building surveys from somewhere online. There were guys outside of the first few bunkhouses, smoking, some drinking beer.
A quarter mile past the bunkhouses I drove up to the main parking lot for Redrock Security Corporation. There was another security booth and another soldier to clear, just like at the front of the property. He swiped my ID card on a matching digital tablet, waited, then nodded, pressed a button and I watched another gate slide open. The headquarters building looked just like the photographs. The two-story building had a large glass front lobby and well-lit landscaped grounds surrounding it. I parked the Accord in the third row. Counted the number of cars still in the lot. None were anything fancy. Hondas, Nissans, Chevys, Fords. Maybe two dozen of them in total. But no tanks.
Sitting in the car in the dark, I stared at the building. The computer center was on the second level. It was a large room with a dozen cubicles. Each cube was loaded with high-tech computer gear.
I took a deep breath. “Hey Maverick, you going to send in a rescue team if you’re wrong about all of this?”
“Sorry, Duke. Just you, me, and the girl on this one.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
I got out of the Accord, shut the door quietly behind me.
I checked my watch. It was nearly seven-thirty.
Two men in matching white polo shirts were exiting the front doors of the building and walking toward the parking lot. The Redrock logo was on their shirts. I hoped I didn’t stand out because I had no Redrock gear. I stopped breathing for a moment, but I was determined to do it this way. I was convinced hiding right out in the open was the best way to attack a military corporation with men trained and focused on literally digging deep into dark and hidden desert caves for assailants.
“Have a good night, guys,” I said, approaching them.
“You too, man,” one of the guys said, without hesitation.
“You sound good, Sam,” Natalie assured me. “Confident. Like you belong there.”
“Kind of like the night we first met, h
uh?” I replied.
“Not even close. Your voice cracked numerous times during our first conversation.”
“Ouch,” said Tommy.
“Don’t believe a word of it, Tommy.” My eyes narrowed. “Walking through the front doors now.”
I entered the glass doors. My eyes did a quick survey. The spacious lobby was still well lit. An open stairway was off to my right. An elevator right beside it. A man and a woman were talking outside the elevator. A security booth was to my direct left, two hulking guards in military fatigues standing behind it. I spotted a sign by the security booth that said Redrock employees must scan in and out every time you leave the facility. I saw a stand with some type of fancy scanner on it. I knew I could not hesitate for long, as it would look like I didn’t know where I was going. I stepped over to it, held out my badge, and put the barcode under the scanner light. Nothing happened the first time it scanned. My eyes drifted over to one of the beefy guards behind the booth. His eyes were already on me. I felt sweat on my back. On the second scan, the light turned green.
Hitting the stairs, I calmly moved up one step at a time, resisting the urge to take three at once.
“Headed up,” I whispered, my lips barely moving. I was a ventriloquist with no puppet.
Upstairs, there were hallways in both directions leading to multiple conference rooms. I passed a group of four men coming out of one, giving the appropriate head nod. Most were casually dressed. They reciprocated with a polite nod, but no curious stares.
I kept moving. “Almost there,” I whispered.
Turning the corner, I headed to the computer center that was supposedly up ahead on the left. I stopped in front of a solid black metal door. A plaque with the numbers 204 hung on the wall beside it, confirming I had found the right place. I grabbed the metal handle and tried to open the door. It was locked. Of course. Quickly, I examined the area round the door and noticed a scanner beneath the plaque. There were scanners everywhere. I wondered if I would go four-for-four with Greg Carson. I pulled out the ID, swiped it through the reader. Nothing. I swiped it a second time. No access granted on the third try either. Crap. I knew I couldn’t keep swiping or it would probably set off an alarm somewhere.
“It’s not working,” I whispered.
“Hold on a sec,” Tommy said. I could hear his fingers clicking away.
I was so close I could taste it. I listened to see if I could hear any noise from inside the room. I thought I could hear dialogue. I examined the security scanner again. There was no way I could dismantle it. I’m sure security sirens would go nuts if I messed around with it. The only way into the room was with appropriate security ID clearance.
“You lost?”
A voice. Behind me. I spun, feeling a chill rush up my spine. It was a young woman in a gray skirt and white blouse. She held a container of yogurt in one hand, a plastic spoon in the other.
“Sorry?” I replied.
“You’re just standing in the hallway,” she clarified. Then she smiled. “You look like you’re lost.”
“I’m Greg,” I said, reaching out a hand. “Just started last week.”
“Kate, very nice to meet you.” She took my hand. “I’m in the PR department. You look really familiar. Have we already met?”
I felt my heart hammer away. She had probably just seen me on CNN. “I don’t think so, I think I would have remembered.”
As I flashed my most charming smile, my eardrum nearly exploded.
“Are you flirting with her?” Natalie said loudly. I heard Tommy laugh.
“They have any snacks left in the kitchen?” I asked. “I’m starving.”
She shrugged. “I saw some bananas, but I think the boys from Bunkhouse D have been in the building again. Looks like everything was wiped out. The fridges are nearly empty.”
I shook my head. “Figures. Have a good night, Kate. Good to meet you.”
“You too.”
I stepped past her, like I knew where I was going. I felt her eyes stay on me.
“What now, Tommy?” I whispered. “I can’t keep roaming the halls.”
“Ground floor,” Tommy said. “Take the elevator down to the basement.”
“Why?” I said quietly, passing two more people huddled near an office door.
“I’m going to get you inside the computer center.”
I circled the floor, returned to the elevator corridor. I stepped inside an empty elevator and descended to the basement, which was much more industrial. The hallway lacked the décor of the rest of the building. Just plain white walls, gray carpet, and bad lighting. No people. There were three doors on each side of the long hallway, labeled Electrical Room 1, Electrical Room 2, Electrical Room 3, all the way up to Electrical Room 6. Each room had the same white metal door.
“What now, Mav?” I said. “I got six options.”
“Electrical Room 4,” Tommy instructed.
I hurried forward, found the door on my right, put my hand on the knob. It was locked. But there wasn’t a scanner box on the outside of the door. It looked like this door only had basic lock and key system.
“Any idea if this room is wired, Tommy?” I asked.
“Nope. Only one way to find out.”
I sighed, looked both ways, all clear. I didn’t hear another soul in the basement. I reached into my jeans pocket, pulled out two paper clips, dropped to one knee, and went to town, scraping and wiggling the clips. The lock clicked and the doorknob turned thirty seconds later. No sirens went off or lights flashed. I exhaled. I was inside a dimly-lit room that sounded like a massive beehive; there was so much electricity pulsing through it. The room had a large metal cube in the middle, like a ten-by-ten square column, floor to ceiling. There were a dozen different gray metal boxes attached with metal tubes coming out of the top that stretched into the ceiling and disappeared from view.
“What next?”
“The boxes should be labeled. Find T2 and T3.”
I carefully circled the column, found the boxes side by side opposite the door.
“Got them.”
“Open them up,” Tommy said. “Tell me what you see.”
I grabbed the handle on T2, lifted. The metal box panel raised up. I did the same for T3. The guts looked nearly identical. A dozen small white boxes. Red, green, white, blue, and black wires running in and out of them, all over the place. I told Tommy what I saw.
“Good,” he replied, excitement in his voice. “That’s perfect.”
“Glad you think so. Now what am I doing here?”
“I want you to pull the red wire out of the third white box from the very top. Then pull the yellow wire out of the fourth white box and reverse them. Plug them both back into the boxes. But do it very quickly.”
“You want to explain to me what’s going to happen?”
“By switching the wires, you’re clearing a path that allows me to put a minor virus into the system. That virus will give access to whoever swipes a security card at the computer center door in the next five minutes, regardless if they have actual security clearance.”
“You’re a genius.”
“I know.”
“Kiss him on the lips for me, Natalie.”
“I’ll kiss you both on the lips if you just get out of there safely with the video. Okay? Now get moving already.”
I reversed the wires. “How’s that?”
Tommy said, “Sweet. We’re in, bro. Good job. Now go, hurry, don’t waste any time. They’ll be on us in a matter of minutes now.”
I did not like the sound of that. But I was on the move, out of the room, back into the elevator. The elevator doors parted on the first floor, not the second floor. The muscular security guard who eyeballed me upon entrance stepped into the elevator with me for the ride up. He was about six-four with a neck the size of my thigh. He gave me a menacing glare without a hint of friendliness. I stepped to the side and made room. The doors slowly shut. I was sweating profusely. The silence was awkward. I needed to
break the ice, create some safe space. I didn’t need this guard eyeballing me around the second floor. My eyes searched like crazy. His military fatigues were rolled up to the elbows. Tight. Neat. But I spotted it on his thick forearm.
“Is that the Macho Man?” I said.
The guard turned. I nodded toward his forearm, where among a hybrid of other ink, he had a small tattoo of the legendary wrestler and showman I recognized as Randy “Macho Man” Savage. In the tattoo, he was jumping off the top ropes dressed in his familiar wrestling headband and garb. I knew about Macho Man from a video game a few guys used to play back in the day.
The guard looked at his arm, nodded, but said nothing. I needed more. The nugget came from a conversation I’d overheard one time, between two old shelter roommates, while they played that dumb video game for hours. Just popped into my mind, clear as day.
“I was at Turning Point in ’04 with my cousin. Saw him beat The Kings of Wrestling.”
The guard turned, softened. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. A classic.”
“That was his last match.”
“Yep.”
We had connected. His guard came down. “That’s really cool, man.”
The elevator door opened. The security guard actually said, “Have a good one,” and allowed me to exit first. We were buddies now. I stepped around the corner, watching him out of the corner of my eye. Thankfully, the guard didn’t follow me. He peeled off in the opposite direction, probably headed to the kitchen.
“You’ve got two minutes, Sam,” Tommy whispered in my ear.
“Don’t need it. I’m here.”
I was back in front of the computer center door. After looking both ways again to make sure no one was coming, I scanned Carson’s ID badge. The door clicked open. I smiled with relief.
“It worked,” I whispered. “I’m in.”
I opened the door, poked my head in carefully, found a large open room that seemed to match the size shown on the floor plan. Enough space for twelve cubicles in the middle of the floor. I could hear at least two other men talking on the opposite side of the cubicles. I knew Tommy had a plan once I got inside the computer center. He told me any open computer would work.