Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “Very interesting. How fast do they cycle and what's the round count?”

  “Eight-hundred rounds per gun. They cycle considerably slower than the Particle Gauss, but the projectile mass is so much higher on the Cryo Gun, it will do a lot more damage.”

  Dar Sloane was running his hand across the hull, “What kind of paint is this? If feels almost... soft.”

  “Non reflective, Commander,” said the mechanic. “Light, Radar, magnetic, Lidar; it does a pretty good job of absorbing all of those. Not perfect mind you... but enough to give you an edge... ”

  “Something else Hecken Noer's been working on?” asked Jack.

  “Yep. He wanted to test it on something so he thought this would be a good trial.”

  “It's OK by me... Anything else?”

  “Some improvements on armor, brings it up to the level of some of our other birds, nothing hugely exotic. But I know he's got a few panels on it that are something he calls his special blend.” The mechanic shrugged and shook his head, “I don't ask.”

  Jack laughed, “Probably wise, Chief.” He looked over the Reaper once more, walking around it before yawning wide. “OK people I'm done, I'm late for a date with my pillow.”

  “Yeah, me too,” confirmed Mike, “I've got class prep to organize tomorrow.”

  The group said their goodnights and went their separate ways, the mechanic taking his cue and wandering off to finish his work, leaving Dar and Lisa standing alone under the right wingtip holding hands in an awkward silence. “So...”

  “So...” replied Lisa.

  “Big day, huh?” Dar knew what he really wanted to say. What he really wanted to ask. But it just didn't seem to dovetail into the here and now.

  She nodded, looking down at her shoes, “Definitely one for the record books...”

  “I bet you're tired.”

  She shrugged noncommittally, “Maybe a little. Not ready to go to sleep yet, though.”

  They started walking slowly toward the elevators. “Want to get a nightcap?”

  Lisa tweaked her mouth sideways which usually meant it wasn't her first choice. “I think I'm done with the crowd for the night...”

  “So, you want to be alone then?”

  She smirked, “I didn't say that...”

  Dar sighed, hoping he was getting a better handle on her line of thinking, “Well my quarters are on the pilots' deck...”

  Lisa made the crooked mouth thing again, “The pilots' deck is like a frat house... I don't think I want to go there... Mine are on the command staff deck...” she said suggestively.

  Dar pushed the button for the elevator. “Ooh, great, next door to your brother, just what I need.”

  She smiled as the door opened, “Same deck, different side of the ship...”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA : MIDNIGHT AUTO

  Most of Birmingham was in the rear-view mirror when the old sedan began coughing up what felt like the equivalent of a lung. Chase knew from the beginning it would never last the entire trip, the sedan hadn't been quite right since they'd acquired it not more than a mile or two from the River Inn & Marina. Now he was hoping it would last just a few more miles.

  Karen opened her eyes, stretching, “What's wrong?”

  “Engine's almost done...”

  “Poor thing,” she mumbled. “Where are we? What time is it?”

  “About one in the morning... We just passed through Birmingham.” He hazarded a glance in the mirror as he moved to the outer lane. “Geez, she won't even hold fifty-five...”

  Karen looked around, seeing nothing but a few scattered lights, “What's the plan?”

  “I saw a billboard advertising a dealership ahead, I'm hoping she'll get us that far.”

  “You thinking of trading her in?” joked Karen.

  “Funny girl,” he shot back. “I'm hoping not to have to walk too far.”

  A gentle curve in the road and a break in the trees on the right side of the highway revealed a cluster of lights. “Is that it?” she pointed.

  Chase had his foot buried in the accelerator pedal, half the cylinders firing in a lumpy, chug that was quickly dropping towards forty miles an hour. “I sure hope so...”

  “I see the sign, that's it!”

  “And no exit... oh well.” Chase lifted his foot off the floored pedal and the engine immediately wheezed to a backfiring, belching idle as he steered it across the shoulder and onto the grass. The old engine groaned when it quit and he let it roll to a stop on its own, shutting off the lights. Chase made a finger gun and shot the dashboard, complete with sound effect.

  Karen swung her door open, “What was that?”

  “When your horse goes lame, you don't let it suffer, you put it out of its misery. I was putting it out of its misery,” he shrugged, opening his door.

  Hand sanitizer on a clean sock will work almost as well as alcohol or bleach wipes for removing fingerprints. It might not completely clean DNA but it would make it a great deal tougher finding any intact. His task complete, Chase stuffed the gear in his bag and hefted the backpack over one shoulder, heading for the tree line where Karen and Allie were waiting.

  Moving through the trees, down the gentle embankment toward the lights of the dealership, Chase was running alarm systems through his head preparing himself for what he might encounter. As a security specialist, he had done his fair share of ethical security breaches for corporate and private clients. There were almost always weaknesses that could be taken advantage of; you just had to find them. Some were harder than others to find. The thing you couldn't plan for was the human element. Outside interference. A bystander, employee, security guard, cop, dogs... Dogs were a real pain in the ass, no pun intended. He even ran across a client in Miami that had a Bengal Tiger roaming the grounds of his estate. That was a tough one. But he usually had time to plan and make notes; going in cold was always the most difficult.

  He crouched at the outer edge of the tree line overlooking the dealership, “You're going to stay here with Allie, I have to do this alone.” He surveyed the lot, a low, heavy tubular rail surrounding the dealership with padlocked swing-arm gates. “Hmm, no tall fences, no barbed wire... I like it so far. We must be in a low crime area.” He inserted the walkie-talkie earpiece in his ear and clipped the mic to his collar. “Let me know if you see anything,” he whispered, moving out into the open. “And stay back in the shadows, not at the edge.”

  “OK,” she whispered in his ear. “Um, what do I do if you get caught?”

  “Find a way to Salt Lake City and call the number on your cell phone...”

  “By myself..?”

  “Ssshhh...” Chase crouched at the rear gate facing the access street running along the highway, checking up and down the empty road. Reaching back and pulling a pick-set out of the side of his backpack, he made short work of the padlock, leaving it in place but unlocked. He ducked under the gate and weaving between the rows of cars scanned the light poles for cameras. There was one on each corner pole looking in toward the building. Creeping between the cars being careful to stay obscured from the cameras he made his way to the furthest back corner. At the base of the pole was an electrical inspection plate. Removing it, he stuck the red-lensed flashlight in his mouth, holding it's rubber body between his teeth. Carefully separating the wires, he snipped the video coaxial cable and replaced the plate. Less than five minutes later the other video camera at the back of the lot was dark as well. “How are we doing?” he whispered.

  “All quiet. Some light traffic on the street out front, no people.”

  “Good.” Chase examined a used, white, sport truck on his way to the back door of the dealership building. Nothing flashy, four door cab, four wheel drive, relatively new... “I think I found us a new truck,” he whispered, moving to the back door. Wearing blue Nitrile gloves he worked the picks on the lock of the service door. He figured at best he'd have two minutes to neutralize the alarm before it went off. At worst, a minute. He
checked his watch before yanking the door open and slipping inside. It took him almost thirty seconds to locate the key panel in the front office near the receptionist desk, giving little more than a glance at the modern, well-appointed dealership or the new cars sitting in the darkened showroom.

  Flashlight back in mouth, he unscrewed the front panel of the control panel, popping it open, “Oh what the hell,” he mumbled past the flashlight, a spaghetti bowl of wires spilling out of the box.

  “What's wrong?” Karen whispered in his ear.

  “Sloppy wiring,” he grumbled, fishing through the mess. He worked feverishly, separating the wires and contacts, jumpering several before the light on the front of the panel winked to green. He checked his watch, a minute and fifteen seconds had passed. He wiped the sweat off his face. “Everything OK out there?”

  “Uh oh...”

  “What?” he hissed.

  “I have lights above me on the highway...”

  “What kind of lights?” he asked, heading to the finance office.

  “The blue and red kind... I think they're over by the old car.”

  “Don't panic, they're probably just checking it out to make sure someone isn't stranded...”

  “Hurry up please...”

  “Hang tight, I should be done in a few minutes...”

  One sale missing paperwork might be suspicious, but two sales missing paperwork would more likely be careless. He snatched a completed file out of the finance officer's bin, looking at the salesman's name, “Sorry Bob,” he breathed, “you got a little sloppy this week.” He slid the file into his pack and hacking into the dealer's computer system, entered the associate's name on all the paperwork for the white pickup truck. Chase printed out a clear title, purchase, payment and transfer paperwork, assigning a license plate from the dealer's stash for new sales. He finished up, making sure he left no traces of his intrusion and headed off to find the security office. “How are you doing out there?”

  “I think he left...”

  Wiping the past eight hours of security video, Chase replaced them with video files from a week earlier, resetting the dates on the files and set the security cameras to restart

  the next night. There would be a full set of videos for the day, before they realized the back lot cameras were inoperative. Satisfied with his work, he tucked everything into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders.

  “I'll be right out, be ready to go when I say so...”

  “OK.”

  Chase checked his watch, opened the security panel and hit the reset before plucking off the jumpers, the alarm counting down from a minute and thirty seconds. He stuffed the wires back inside and closed the panel, screwing it shut. His eyes swept the area, making sure everything looked untouched before heading to the back door.

  Halfway to the door he realized he'd forgotten the keys to the truck. Son of a bitch! He flung his backpack across the smooth floor and headed back to the front office as his bag slid toward the back door. As he rounded the service desk, the bright shaft of a spotlight reached through the showroom windows and swept slowly towards him. He dove to the floor and scooted across the polished tile on his belly to the sales manager's office, using the vehicles in the showroom for cover. Scooting through the doorway and around the desk, he could see the key cabinet above him but he couldn't stand up, the spotlight scanning the front of the dealership right through the glass offices. Peeking around the desk, he could see the nose of the police car sitting at the curb right in front of dealership's entrance. “Karen, use your cell phone, call 911! Call 911!”

  “What? Why? What's going on?”

  “I've got a cop out front, I'm trapped!”

  ”What do I say?”

  “Say there's a man with a gun robbing the gas station up the street...”

  “Which one?”

  “Fuck! Pick one! Hurry!”

  Chase took a calculated risk and rose to his knees to pop the cabinet open as the spotlight swept back in the other direction. He could see the key dangling on the hook above him, the truck description written on the tag. As he cautiously reached for it, red and blue flashes reflected off the walls and glass around him, refracting back and forth in dizzying directions. He froze, a sudden numbness in his hands, an icy chill racing up his back. The wail of the siren and squealing of tires almost made him piss himself.

  With nerves jangling and muscles jittering from the adrenalin flood, he jumped up, snagged the keys and bolted for the rear door. One minute, twenty seconds. He scooped up the heavy backpack like it was a bag of feathers, spinning through the door, slamming it behind him. “Get the gate! Get the gate!” He fumbled with the picks to relock the back door fighting the trembles that threatened to spill the picks all over the ground. Somehow he lucked out and the latch dropped into place with a clunk.

  Unlocking the truck's doors with the key fob, he slid to a stop and ripped the door open, chucking his pack into the back seat. Jumping behind the wheel he cranked up the engine and threw it into gear, tearing out through the open gate, flinging the passenger door open as he slammed on the brakes. “Come Allie!” The German Shepherd bolted from the tree line, diving through the open door and Karen jumped into the back, pack and laptop bag in tow.

  “I'm in!”

  Chase stomped the accelerator and the passenger doors slammed shut of their own weight as they raced down the access road in the opposite direction of Karen's 911 call, the truck's V-8 pumping out horsepower galore. “Give me your phone!” A hand appeared between the seats and he took the flip phone, wiping it on his pants and breaking it in two against the steering wheel, throwing the parts out the window.

  Three miles were under the tires before he pulled off into an empty church parking lot. “I've got to put the plate on before we go any farther...” he stuttered, putting the truck in park and holding out his trembling hands. “Whew, you'd think I'd be used to these adrenalin dumps by now... amazing what it does.” He looked back over his shoulder as he peeled off the blue gloves, Karen still laying across the seat on her stomach. “You're awful quiet, you alright?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “You're stuck under your pack, aren't you.”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Jackson Mississippi behind them, Karen adjusted herself in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, holding the pickup steady just above seventy miles per hour, a hint of blue creeping into the night sky. “So we're taking I-20 all the way into Dallas?” She waved her hand, “I mean if we were going this way anyway, why didn't we take I-10 across from the get-go?”

  His attention divided, Chase nodded staring at the laptop screen on his knees, a cell phone connection providing him with internet. “Yep, then I-35 up to Kansas City...” He glanced up for a moment, realizing she'd asked two questions. “I-10 is a popular smuggling corridor, lot's of police activity. We kinda want to avoid contact.”

  She nodded her understanding. “What are you doing..?” She tried to peek at the screen.

  “Watch the road,” he said without looking up. “I'm reactivating a corporation I set up a few years back. It's very secret, government-agency sounding and anyone running the plate is likely to want to avoid it. It's what I registered the truck to on the dealer's computer last night...”

  “So this agency doesn't exist then...”

  “Only on paper.”

  “Mmm, she acknowledged, half understanding. “So, Salt Lake City... too bad you can't fly, we could've swiped a plane, huh?”

  “Well I know enough to get us off the ground. Landing, not so much,” he shrugged. “That rather abrupt ending to the flight usually ruins the trip.”

  Karen toyed with her hair, twirling it around her finger absentmindedly, “I gotta ask, what the hell are we going to find in Salt Lake City?”

  His work completed, Chase closed the laptop and unplugged the cell phone, packing them away in his laptop bag. “Southwest of there actually. Something called Dugway Proving Grounds...”


  “And that is..?”

  “Jack mentioned it once... in the same context as Area 51 and Groom Lake. Secret places that the government develops secret things... Places where the government develops science, weapons, more efficient and more violent ways of killing our enemies...”

  “Oh that's nice...” Karen's voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Chase ignored her caustic tone. “Citizens sleep safely at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf to those who would do us harm. There is a trust between those citizens and those men. And those rough men have issued our country a blank check for everything up to and including their lives. The thing that bothers me is that Washington has shown a propensity for abusing that checkbook. And instead of getting better, it's getting worse. I can speak from personal experience, it seems more and more, the current administration has come to view its own people as the enemy... including our returning vets.”

  She frowned, “Would the military really hurt Americans?”

  Chase's frustration was reflected in half a shrug and a shake of his head. “Not the guys I know, but the military is a hierarchical chain of command and the guy in the White House is holding the top link of that chain. If he's abusing his power, the people down at the bottom are the ones who get shit on. In case you're wondering,” he waved, “the citizens are the ones at the bottom and he'll use the military or Department of Homeland Security to do the shitting.”