Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “Yeah I've seen...” she looked at the flat-screen next to the white board, her eyes narrowing, “No I haven't seen that part...”

  “Some of this is our video, some is footage we confiscated and some came from files we found hidden on the Deep Web. We also have the news broadcast that TV bitch aired on here as well.”

  “I thought this was something we did to confuse the public and discredit...” she shot Doug a glance, “It's not manufactured..?”

  Doug Moorland was enjoying this part, blowing her mind. A little payback for her ruse last night. He shook his head with a Cheshire Cat grin, “No. This is the real deal, lady...”

  “Whoa!” she jumped, her head pulling back as a quick lance of light came from the darkened doorway of Steele's beach house towards the camera, destroying a black SUV in the intersection below, debris flying up past the camera's lens.

  “Yeah got that from the lady filming it from her balcony. That was our unit he blew up, by the way...”

  “What the hell was he using? An RPG?”

  Doug shook his head, “Laser, particle weapon, rail gun, we have no idea.” He pointed back at the screen, Here, watch this part... don't blink or you'll miss it...”

  She watched the hand-held shaky video zooming in slowly from a vantage point down the beach. “It's hard to tell, is that a Coast Guard chopper..?”

  “Yep. MH60T Sea Hawk...”

  “It's a real UFO...” she breathed, enlightenment creeping in. “Oh!” she pointed, “they're shooting at the people in the sand, that can't be a good idea...” Mercedes recoiled as the ship returned fire, the helicopter disappearing in a fireball, reduced to flaming confetti floating through the air. “Shit..! What it God's name...”

  “Exactly,” he nodded. “I missed that part, I was still inside the house...”

  Her brow furrowed, not taking her eyes off the screen, watching all the different angles and clips as the video continued. “You were there?”

  “Me,” he thumbed in Lou's direction, “Lou, Pete...” he cleared his throat as the name stuck, “and a couple guys we lost there. That weapon you saw blow up our vehicle cut two of our guys in half. Our body armor doesn't do anything against their stuff.”

  “Jesus... OK, so I don't get it, what are we in this for? Payback? The ship?”

  Standing next to her, Doug pointed at the screen, “Here, check out the departure of this thing. The footage is from the F-16s that came out of Homestead.” He touched her shoulder, “Keep in mind they're at full afterburner doing Mach 2...”

  The F-16s closing in from above, recorded the engines of the UFO glowing blue, pulling away slowly at first, then accelerating hard, disappearing in a matter of a couple of seconds in a blue flash, a comet tail chasing it out of sight.

  “My God...”

  “Yeah. They estimated it somewhere between Mach 5 and Mach 7.” He leaned back against the table, sipping his coffee. “We realize, barring mechanical failure grounding that thing, it's unlikely we'll ever be able to capture it. But there is a piece of portable communications equipment...”

  She turned and glared at him, “Say what?” Communications equipment seemed a bit of a letdown.

  “Communications equipment,” he continued, “the size of a laptop, powerful enough to reach deep space, faster and more efficiently than anything we have.” He turned and backed away from the table with a wave of his hand, “Just think, no more transmitter dish arrays, no more giant banks of computers to control communications... we might not even need satellites. The U.S. could monopolize all communications on the planet. No one could communicate without us knowing about it.”

  Mercedes slid herself off the table, “How many of these units are out there, do we know?”

  “We're not clear on that yet. The sister had one, we know that for sure. SETI saw the incoming signals and got all excited, thought they were receiving messages from ET. When they realized the communication was going both ways, then they panicked. They thought ET was here, phoning home. Our guy inside dropped a dime and alerted DARPA...”

  “Who handed it to us...” she finished his sentence. “So what were the communications about?”

  “We don't know. DARPA, CSS and our own cryptography are all stumped. The sister took the unit with her when she bugged out. We believe the parents may have one and there are a couple more people including Chase Holt,” he pointed at the white board, “this guy here.”

  “Sooo... are these people aliens?”

  Doug shrugged, “You guess is as good as mine. Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Why haven't we picked these, er, people up yet?”

  Doug thumbed at the white board, “The sister was the only one with a signal. Between Holt's background in electronics and security and his tight ties to everyone in the family among other key people, he seemed to be the lynch-pin and possible direct link to Steele himself.”

  “So that's why you picked him up,” she added, paging through Chase Holt's file. “Hmm, too bad Pete Whitman fumbled the ball.” She closed the folder, “What about the parents?”

  “Our ace in the hole,” replied Doug, ignoring the comment about Pete. “We're sitting on them. Steele came back for his sister, we're sure he'll come back for his parents. If we leave them alone, he'll know where to find them and we'll know where to find him.”

  She tapped on the photo of Stephen Miles, “Let's not forget this guy. It all started with him...”

  “Fair enough,” agreed Doug. “Then we should add this guy to the list,” he said, tapping on the photo of Phil Cooper. “FBI agent, good friends with Steele's father. Something's always told me he knows more than he's letting on.”

  “Hold on,” interrupted Lou Geller, stepping in, “we're crossing a line here targeting members of other agencies... this could go upside down real quick.”

  “Think of it this way, Lou,” began Mercedes, “what do you think would happen if we got our hands on one of these things and called Steele to bargain something bigger for his parents? Like a ship?”

  “Ya mean ransom?” said Lou sarcastically.

  “No, like negotiation,” countered Doug. He was beginning to like the way Huang was thinking.

  “Potato - potahto,” mumbled Lou.

  Mercedes stepped up to the board and studied the photos. “I think we need to go back to basics. Some of these people are in the wind and we should go back and rewire their pads in case they return for any reason. That's step one. Step two, we tag anyone mobile so we can keep track of them. And step three, starting at the bottom,” she pointed, “the peripheral folks. We start picking these people up.”

  “And what do we do with them?” asked Lou.

  Mercedes shrugged, “Hold them, question them.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes. If we let them go we run the risk of them informing others. We'd have to hold them until the investigation is resolved and the equipment is acquired. This is of national importance, our country's security and safety is at risk.” Mercedes Huang was staring intently at the board. “Mooreland, what is that symbol?” she pointed, waving her finger at three photos.

  “Steele, Holt and Murphy are Masons. That's how they know each other, they're in the same lodge...”

  “Then we need wires in that lodge, see what they know.”

  “Um,” Doug rubbed his chin, “that's not as easy as you might think...”

  Mercedes rolled her eyes, “Oh for God's sake, you're spies, get creative. Figure it out. Hell if you can't figure it out, I'll do it.”

  “You won't get in,” commented Lou, “women aren't allowed in the lodge... Besides, being an enormous fraternity, with a very influential enrollment...”

  “Like the CIA or the FBI?” she interrupted sarcastically.

  “Like Presidents, heads of state, judges, lawyers, heads of industry, and other stuff we shouldn't really mess with... from all over the planet.”

  Not totally convinced, Mercedes scrunched her lips together. “Hmm. Ma
ybe we'll have to think more on that, then.”

  “Yeah, think it over real hard, lady,” admonished Lou Geller. “They're not just Masons, they're Knights Templars...”

  She looked at him with a blank stare.

  “Hoo boy, she has no idea who they are. Doug, you want to take this?”

  Doug Mooreland rubbed his forehead. “I'm not going to do a full history here, some of this you're going have to study up on for yourself... That being said; the Freemasons are arguably one of the oldest secret orders on the planet. The Order of the Knights Templar dates back to the early 1100's and is an integral part of Freemason history. You could say that Masonry was borne from the ideals, principals and code of ethics, of the Knights Templars. The Templars invented the earliest forms of banking and checking, developed massive wealth, had their own navy, had their own army, and their first headquarters was the Temple Mount in Jerusalem... The Crusaders called it the Temple of Solomon. They protected pilgrims traveling to and from the holy land of Jerusalem from Islamic raids, ensuring their safety. Developing over about two centuries, their financial network and massive influence extended across the Middle East and all of Europe. At one point they owned the entire island of Cyprus.”

  He took a sip of his nearly cold coffee, producing a look of disdain. “At the beginning of the 13th century, King Philip IV of France had racked up a great deal of debt owed for their services. To avoid paying it he hatched a scheme to discredit the Templars, allowing the crown to seize their money and assets. After some planning, he made his move on Friday, October 13th, 1307, arresting and incarcerating as many as he could find.”

  He shot Mercedes a glance, “That's how the 13th got its bad rap. Anyway, King Philip pressured Pope Clement to work with him to declare the Templars heretics so all their properties and assets could be seized internationally, which the Pope finally did a month later.”

  Mercedes Huang was listening carefully, her hands tucked in her pockets, leaning against the table. “Weren't these the Knights with the red cross on their uniforms that fought in the Crusade against the Muslims?”

  “Yep. The red cross that the Templars wore on their robes was a symbol of martyrdom, and religious piety. They were essentially warrior monks. I've seen several references to them being called the soldiers of Christ or the warriors of Christ. What most people don't realize is that the Templars fought the Crusades as a response to more than a hundred years of attacks by the Muslims. It wasn't initiated by the church; it was an effort to stop the attrition brought on by the Muslim aggressions. Because the Templars had the experience and resources, they were called upon to do battle, along with other religious orders like the Knights Hospitaller and the Knights of St. John. Their uncompromising principles, along with their reputation for courage, excellent training, and heavy armament, made the Templars the most feared combat force in medieval times...”

  “OK,” waved Mercedes, “this is all fascinating enough, but how does that relate to the here and now?”

  Doug handed his coffee mug off to another agent quietly listening, “Would you mind?” The agent gave a silent shrug and headed for the coffee pot sitting on the warmer. “Alright,” continued Doug, “Friday the 13th, the King and the Pope conspired to wipe out as thoroughly as they could, the Templars and all their holdings, yes?”

  “OK...”

  “So,” he said, accepting a refilled coffee mug, “the Templars were famous for something else; their use of pigeons for communications and their secret codes. As soon as the arrests began, messages were sent out by courier pigeons. And hundreds if not thousands of the Templars simply disappeared. Some went to other orders, some blended back into normal life, a large number regrouped under the name, Knights of Christ. They had an exit plan. The King confiscated all the properties and some of their monetary assets... but much of the wealth disappeared with them...” He waved his hand, “Poof. Gone. They ended up in Spain, Portugal, Mexico, America, England, Ireland and scattered throughout Europe. The ones captured were imprisoned, tortured, killed, some burned alive at the stake...”

  “Jesus,” she breathed.

  “Yeah,” nodded Doug, “but the rest survived, lived on, and continued the legacy of some of the most influential people on the planet... In 1492, a hundred-eighty-five years later, Columbus sailed to America. You noticed I didn't say discovered, because he didn't really, the Templars had already been here. In fact they provided him with charts and information on the winds and currents. If you've ever seen drawings of his ships, the sails carried the cross of the Knights Templars...”

  “Columbus was a Templar?”

  “Yep. A member of the Knights of Christ.”

  “Wow... But I still don't get how that applies...”

  Doug slapped his forehead, “Don't you get it? They may be civilians, and they certainly don't carry swords and armor anymore, but the dedication is the same now as it was back then. The oath they swear, the secret ways they communicate, their influence and power... If you go stomping into a lodge and ask questions, start hauling them in for questioning... it will be a replay of Friday the 13th all over again. I think we've already seen that with Dan Murphy and Chase Holt. Unfortunately, 20/20 hindsight; we weren't initially aware of the connection.”

  “What do we do then?”

  “Careful observation, tapping, listening... they'll resurface.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Doug cracked a crooked little smirk, “Because they still have family...” He waved his finger in the air, “As a final side note; one of the Knights Templar burned at the stake, Jacques de Molay, called out from the fire that a great calamity would befall those who had condemned the Templars to death... Pope Clement mysteriously died a month later and King Philip died in a hunting accident before the end of the year.”

  “Fuck, that's creepy.”

  Doug shook his head, “Gotta respect someone with that kind of mojo,” he sipped his coffee. “So I don't intend to underestimate this organization or their members.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH : DOUGWAY - THE RABBIT HOLE

  After exiting I-15 toward Salt Lake, State Road 6 was a bit of a shock, a two lane road winding west through the desert and between the mountains. Eureka popped up out of nowhere, a little mining town with two gas stations. One of those places you'd miss if you blinked too long. After the necessary pit stop they continued on, facing the brutal glare of the afternoon sun.

  Utah State Route 36, ran west before it swung north and they almost missed the turnoff because it looked smaller and more worn than the road they had just been on. The narrow two lane road ran through desolate desert with little traffic, save a tumbleweed crossing every now and again. The setting sun on their left was a reprieve from directly facing the intense, unrelenting ball of fire now dropping though a cloudless sky towards the distant peaks. Only an occasional sod farm broke up the flat, lifeless stretches of nothing, their giant green circles the only color in a brown and gray world. It reminded him of another place... a place far away, where war never seemed to end.

  Chase Holt lifted his foot off the accelerator, letting the truck slow down on its own, staring out at the desert on the right of the road. He angled gently and the truck rumbled across the rough scrub on the unpaved shoulder paralleling a short barbed wire fence in serious disrepair. Karen was watching him but trying to see what he was looking at out the window at the same time. “What are you looking at?” she squinted, scanning the terrain.

  “Bunkers.... I think.” Looking around suspiciously, he climbed out of the cab and into the truck's bed for a better view, standing on his toes. “Yep, bunkers. Rows and rows of them...”

  She stuck her head out the window, “How the hell did you even see that?”

  “Practice. Certain things in the desert look natural, some don't. These don't, though I suspect they're more worried about them being seen from the air than the ground.”

  “Whose are they?”

&n
bsp; “No idea. Army probably. They look abandoned though. I don't see any vehicles or security...” He jumped down to the ground and climbed back into the cab, putting the truck back in gear and angling back onto the empty road.

  “What are they used for?”

  Chase checked his rear view mirror, “Trucks, tanks, fuel, weapons, ordnance... anything they want to protect from bombs or missiles.” He pointed to the right, “There's the road going in. I don't see a gate or anything... interesting.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Passing the Tooele Army Depot on the outskirts of town as the sun slid behind the mountain ridges, Chase wondered if what they'd previously seen was truly deserted, or more likely remotely monitored. The second question would be what is the response time for an encroachment? That was probably going to run around in his mind for a while.

  Thankfully, Tooele was a decent sized town with enough amenities to provide them with a decent, clean motel room and the first real dinner they'd had in days. It was a bit of normalcy that seemed to be rare in the maelstrom of crazy that had become their lives.

  Coming back to the room from the restaurant, Chase stalled Karen with a wave, swiping his windbreaker aside, silently drawing his Glock. “Door's open,” he whispered, holding it at low ready. He looked up and back down the corridor, checking his surroundings.

  “I watched you pull it closed,” she whispered back.

  He nodded, pushing the door open with his foot, greeted by Allie, wagging her tail. “Hi girl,” he breathed, “did we have a visitor?” The German Shepherd danced around, glad to see her human, kicking something black under the desk. Quickly scanning the room, Chase holstered his Glock and stooped down to pick up the MagnaCard.

  Karen closed and locked the door behind them, “What is it?”

  “An electronic master key card. This thing'll open any door in any hotel. I'm guessing they didn't count on Ellie being here. She must have scared them off...”