“Goodbye, Colonel Collins. I suspect I’ll be making that phone call sooner than you may think.”
Henri Farbeaux turned off the light above the steel headboard and then placed his hands behind his head and went into deep thought.
ONE MILE EAST OF HACIENDA
PERDITION’S GATE, NUEVO LAREDO, MEXICO
A small man with a paunch and a sweat-stained baby-blue blazer adjusted his field glasses as he watched the Mexican National Police force come and go from the hacienda. Every once in a while he would see an old woman, his files said that she was the late Juan Guzman’s mother, start haranguing the officers as they compiled their evidence packages inside of the main house. He knew the police hadn’t actually removed any evidence from the hacienda to this point.
The man worked for the Centro de Investigación y Seguridad Nacional, Mexico’s version of the CIA. The National Security and Investigation Center, or CISEN, was one of the more corrupt agencies in the Mexican federal establishment. For years they had been trying to clean up the factions at work deep inside of the agency, but they had thus far been unable to curb the avarice thrown to certain members of the corrupt agency. The man with the field glasses was one of these men.
He lowered the glasses when he heard a car drive up from behind his hiding place. He knew who it was so he just waited for the report. A man dressed as a Mexican state policeman walked easily toward the man, tearing away a false moustache and removing his blue hat.
“It is done.”
The small, rotund man nodded his head and then raised the powerful field glasses once more. In the lenses he saw the old woman once more, and this time it looked as if she had two of Guzman’s younger children in tow. She was still shouting out indignities as she waved her arms wildly about some offense or other.
“Señor, you realize there are still women and children inside of the targeted area. And many, many of our Mexican police brethren?”
The man sniffed as he watched the hacienda but kept his glasses steady on the main building.
“It is a shame, but the situation cannot be helped. We have orders to destroy the hacienda and all of its contents. Now, are you sure the package was delivered to the right area of the building?”
“We followed your precise directions. The entire structure should be nothing but a large hole in the ground. It should destroy everything in the lower levels, along with everything and everyone within a thousand feet of the hacienda.”
“Very well. Do you have the transmitter?”
The uniformed man reached into his jacket pocket, brought out a small box, and then extended the small antenna and held it out for his operations manager. The smaller man finally lowered his field glasses and then looked at the transmitter and shook his head.
“You can have the honors.”
The man in the state police uniform looked uncomfortable. He turned his back on the hacienda one mile away and then quickly raised the small plastic cover and depressed the black button underneath.
The man with the field glasses was taken by surprise when the thousand pounds of special explosives provided by their CIA contact in Langley literally blew the ground the hacienda was sitting on in a vaporous, rolling ball of hell. The entire hacienda and the land it sat on vanished in a split second of destruction that Mexico had never seen. It was so powerful that the small man was shoved as hard as he would have been if a rugby player had slammed into him.
The explosive, octanitrocubane, is the most powerful nonnuclear explosive ever made. Octanitrocubane consists of a cube of eight carbons with nitro groups (oxygens and nitrogens) attached to each carbon. It is an explosive that doesn’t require an external oxygen source to decompose, meaning that it could blow up in every environment, including water and even in the vacuum of space.
As the small mushroom-shaped cloud rose above the small valley, the man rose and shook his head. As he raised the field glasses to his eyes once more he was shocked to see that between the rolling clouds of dust and sand and smoke, there was absolutely nothing left of the hacienda or the areas beneath it or around it. He couldn’t even discern the bodies of police or family members.
He lowered the glasses and removed his cell phone from his suit jacket. He hit the preselected number and then waited.
“Vickers, it’s your dime,” came the answer.
“Excuse me, señor?” the small man said, not understanding Vickers’s play on words.
“Oh, just a joke. What have you to report?”
“The explosives your man delivered were quite adequate for the job. I am afraid that there were many collateral pieces on the chessboard however.”
“The bastard Guzman led his family to this end. Make no sympathies for him or his family. They’re not innocents in all of this.”
“Sí, we knew what kind of man we were dealing with.” The small man closed the cell phone and almost raised the field glasses to his eyes once more but stopped short. He didn’t need to see the smoking ruin of this particular piece of Mexico. No, he didn’t need that. He stood instead and tossed the field glasses to the uniformed man.
“Sí, Señor Vickers, we do indeed know what kind of man we are dealing with. He’s a man not far removed from your own desires and aspirations,” the man said to himself.
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX
NELLIS AFB, NEVADA
Collins sat for the longest time on his bed looking at the two packed suitcases sitting by the door. He looked at his wristwatch and then his eyes moved back to the cases. He was waiting for the arrival of Sarah McIntire. The knock on the door soon came and Jack stood to answer it, kicking one of the suitcases out of the way as he did. He opened the door and Sarah was leaning on the frame, looking down.
“Hi, short stuff.”
Sarah looked up, and with her eyes black and blue and her nose bandaged she imagined she didn’t look her best. She stepped into Jack’s large room and then faced the far wall.
“You didn’t feel the need to discuss this with me before springing it on the world?”
“So you could do then what you’re going to do now?” he asked as he placed both of his large hands on Sarah’s shoulders. She reached back without looking and took his bandaged hand in her much smaller one.
“Jack, if it’s us and the military etiquette involved, I can resign and still keep my post as the geology department’s head instructor.”
Jack squeezed her shoulder and then turned her around and kissed her deeply. Then he pulled back and ran a finger close to her left eye, which was showing signs of opening all of the way for good. The bruise was deep and purple with tinges of yellow under the skin. Collins shook his head and then smiled.
“That wouldn’t stop me from showing favoritism toward you. That wouldn’t stop me from losing any more people in the field.” Jack removed his hands and then took a few steps back before turning to face Sarah. I’m afraid it’s much more than just us, baby. Do you know that on the plane trip back to Nevada, I couldn’t recall what Lance Corporal Udall looked like? A marine I have spent the past five years training?”
Sarah watched as Jack’s face clouded over with self-doubt and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and then looked at Sarah again. “All of the faces of all those boys, from Iraq, Afghanistan, and here at the Group, they all seem to merge and form themselves into…,” again he tried to smile, “well, you. All of my fears, all the terror I feel when I order men to their possible deaths, all come back to you. The loss of you would be my punishment. Do you understand that?”
Sarah remained silent as she reached up and placed her arms around his shoulders and pulled him to her. He felt her soft sobs as she said goodbye in her own quiet way.
“You know short stuff, my mother thinks you’re a figment of my overworked imagination.”
Sarah laughed through her tears as she finally looked up at Collins. “She does?” she said as she wiped a tear away from her very sore face.
“I think we better allay her fears. She’s comi
ng to Las Vegas so I thought maybe we can have dinner tomorrow night?”
“It’s a date … Mr. Collins,” she said as she started crying one more time.
Jack didn’t realize that he would not be addressed by his military rank any longer. As he hugged Sarah he smiled for the first time in a long while, while meaning it.
Jack Collins was very comfortable with the mister aspect of the change. He was tired. Tired of the death that had always surrounded him even since the days of his father. Now, he would wake up tomorrow and would never have to feel that hopelessness again.
Yes, he thought, Mr. Collins was something he could get used to being addressed by.
* * *
Niles Compton sat at his desk and read the report that had just been forwarded to him from Pete Golding down in the Computer Center. He shook his head and then looked up at the faces of Carl Everett and Virginia Pollock.
“The explosive used in the destruction of Perdition’s Gate was an exotic mixture. Octanitrocubane is made here in the States and a few countries in Europe, mostly NATO members. We can assume someone wanted the hacienda reduced to dust. That, coupled with the fact that this savior of yours and the colonel in Mexico destroyed the body of Guzman, coincides with someone not wanting some detail of Perdition’s secrets out in the open.”
“Do Pete and Europa have any leads as to who these gentlemen were that have so graciously covered up someone’s mess?” Everett asked as the new head of security. He looked at his watch, knowing that Jack was due to sign out of the Group in fifteen minutes.
“None, but I’m willing to bet that someone over at Langley may have some answers for us. This smells like their work. I’ve talked to the president and he’s looking into it.”
“How is he taking Jack’s resignation?” Virginia asked what she and Everett both were curious about, at least hoping the president wouldn’t accept the request for retirement.
“He’s not speaking to me on any matters not related to this fiasco in Mexico, with the exception of the colonel. I think he will order Jack back to the Group, but that will be the colonel’s call. One he has to make on his own.” Niles tossed Pete’s report on his desktop and then looked up at his two people. “Virginia, how are we handling this sample we removed from Mexico?”
“As of right now, we are treating it as we would a viral compound. Until our cleared Event Group members of the CDC arrive to classify it, that’s all we’re working with.”
“Good. I don’t want anyone near it until we can get some recommendations. I also want that crap out of the complex as soon as that assessment is made. Do we have anything yet on the 1916 raid into Mexico?”
“Pete is putting together a package of everything Europa can dig up on this Professor Ambrose. I just cannot believe that a man with his credentials could come up with a compound such as this in the 1890s. It’s impossible, especially for what he was a professor of. At least we have the good professor Ambrose’s journals that our famous general Patton recovered from the hacienda.”
Everett looked from Niles to Virginia, who just shrugged her shoulders as she didn’t know what Compton was talking about either. “Just what was he a professor of?” Everett finally asked.
“Believe it or not, this Ambrose character was only a botanist. No chemistry experience, no genetics, just a botanist—a brilliant one to be sure, but still just a botanist.”
* * *
A U.S. Army sergeant stepped into Jack’s room, took the suitcases, and left for the loading-dock area of the complex. He was followed by Sarah and Collins. As they passed people in the hallway many of them stopped to shake Jack’s hand, and he graciously spent a minute with each as they slowly made their way up to level five. As the elevator doors opened, both Jack and Sarah were shocked at what was waiting on the massive concrete loading dock.
“Damn it,” Jack said beneath his breath as over a hundred of the off-duty Event Group staff were there to send him off. The rumor of his resignation had spread like wildfire from the moment he had left the vault area that morning.
As the hundred men and women broke out in applause, Jack waved them off. Sarah placed her arm through Jack’s as they stepped onto the dock. The first to greet him was a man with wild white hair and small round glasses. Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III stood before Collins with his white lab coat buttoned askew and his eyes wet.
“Colonel, on behalf of everyone at this complex, I want to say thank you. I … I…”
Jack took Charlie’s hand and shook it. “No Doc, thank you,” he said as he looked up at the faces trying to get a glimpse of him as he left. “Thank all of you.” He looked down at the professor and head of the Cryptozoology Department and smiled. “Thank you for giving me back my humanity in the last six years. Everyone here reminded me of what my job was truly all about.” He again looked at those around him. “You made me care about whom and why I do what I do. And now I leave that to others. Goodbye.”
Ellenshaw released Jack’s hand and without another word turned and burst past both he and Sarah, removing his glasses and swiping at his eyes as he did. Collins took a deep breath and then looked at Sarah. He gestured toward the lone transport car at the edge of the loading dock. With a few more handshakes he finally got a chance and whispered into Sarah’s ear that he loved her. Then as he was about to step into the plastic-reinforced magnetically controlled car, Sarah pulled on his sleeve and nodded to the right of the loading dock where the Security Department kept a small kiosk for inspecting incoming shipments. Will Mendenhall watched from the glass enclosure.
“I’ll be damned,” Jack once again said. Collins stood as straight as he could and then raised his hand.
Will Mendenhall stepped from the security kiosk, and then just when Collins thought he wasn’t going to respond to his goodbye, Will saluted him.
Jack nodded his head, and then looking directly at the best man he had ever trained, a man who had risen from staff sergeant to second lieutenant through sheer talent and ability, he returned the salute. Will snapped his head down, half smiled, and then turned away from the departing soldier who had replaced a father Will had never known. Jack watched the black man move away and knew he was leaving the best people he had ever known.
“Well,” he said as he finally looked down at Sarah.
“Yes, Mr. Collins?”
“Until tomorrow night then?”
“I’ll be there, and I’m going to tell your mother you did this,” she swam her hand around her blackened eyes, “to me.”
Collins smiled and kissed the top of her head. He then stepped into the small transport that would carry him the seven-point-seven miles to gate number two at the Gold City Pawn Shop in Las Vegas.
“After meeting you, she just may agree that you needed that beating Lieutenant McIntire.”
“Goodbye, Jack,” Sarah said as she turned and walked away.
Collins watched everyone start to file back into the complex. And for a fleeting moment he saw the diminutive shape of the woman he loved disappear among the many military, science, academia, and other professions that made up the personnel of the Event Group.
“Europa, gate number two, please.”
“Yes, Colonel Collins, gate number two.”
“Hey!” came a shout that made Collins tell Europa to hold the magnetic-driven car. He looked over and saw the blue jumpsuit and then Everett stepped clear of some large crates on the loading dock.
Jack slid the plastic door up and into the frame of the bullet-shaped car. He stood and waited for Carl to reach him.
“Thought you would get out without having to face me?” he asked as he held out his hand to Collins.
“Something like that,” Jack answered as the two men shook hands.
“It’s been a hell of a ride, Jack.”
“That it has Carl. A ride I wouldn’t have missed for the world.”
Everett took a step back and literally examined the battered frame of his friend. He knew Collins was at his limit. Most
men hit that mark after it’s too late, and they end up getting a lot of people killed. Jack had lost people, a lot of them, but had yet to get anyone killed out of negligence to duty. No, Everett thought, Jack was leaving on his own terms and he for one would not ever mention the why’s of his leaving. Instead, Everett just raised his right hand and, like Mendenhall a minute before, saluted.
Collins returned the gesture and then shook his head.
“Any advice, besides run as fast as I can out of here?” Carl asked with a smile as Collins sat back down with his hand poised over the glass-enclosed door.
“Yeah, Senator Lee once told me, ‘Jack, you’re in command, so goddamn it, command.’” With that and a return smile, Jack Collins closed the door and the car zoomed away down the centerline rail toward the city of Las Vegas and whatever future he could carve out for himself.
6
CIA HEADQUARTERS
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
The same photo and trace technician who had questioned Hiram Vickers earlier about the chain of custody for the tracer tract forwarded to her department from the Cassini Corporation in Boulder stood at the far end of the hallway from Vickers’s office. She half turned with the large envelope in her arm, pressed it tightly to her chest, and then looked down on the signoff sheet. Only her department had signed the receipt of service from Cassini. There was a long red arrow from the top of the custody list straight down to Hiram Vickers’s name near the bottom. She looked at the name bypassed by the arrow—the person in charge of intelligence for the North American Desk, Assistant Director Lynn Simpson. Once again the woman bit her lower lip; after all, maybe Vickers had a point about not filling up the desks of people who didn’t have the time to look at test patterns from one of their CIA contractors.
“Penny for your thoughts,” came the familiar voice that had come up on her unawares.
The young girl looked at Hiram Vickers and the cold smile he always gave women he thought far beneath his station. While he looked at her chest, the technician easily pulled the chain-of-possession list from the front of the envelope. She then smiled and held out the large envelope.
Ripper (Event Group Thrillers) Page 21