“Mornin’. What can I do for ya?” asked the man with a warm smile, as Tucker rolled down his window.
Ramona leaned over Tucker to hand the guard her credentials saying, “Good morning. I’m Agent Ramona Xuxa, CIA. I’m here to see Mr. Quinn. Here’s my clearance.”
The man’s demeanor changed from folksy to polite but aloof. “State your business, please.”
“Inspection. National Security. These men and those in the vehicle behind me are part of my team and they are here to help collect information for the inspection.”
“Okay, Agent Xuxa. Wait here, please.”
The guard returned to the booth and picked up the phone. After a moment, he returned. “Mr. Quinn is expecting you, Agent Xuxa. A squad will be driving by in a moment; follow it to the entrance. Once there you will be escorted further into the facility by appointed personnel.”
A buzzer sounded, and the gate rolled opened, the guard waving them through. “Thank you, sir,” she said, rewarding him with her signature reassuring smile, a technique she had perfected in her many months at the agency.
“Enjoy your visit, ma’am,” the second guard said as they passed.
Just as the guard had promised, a man on an ATV pulled in front of them and gestured to follow him. The driver’s arms were large enough to pull a tree out of the ground, a tattoo of the Army Ranger’s emblem visible on his forearm. The man gave a friendly wave and took off.
“Wow, they’re committed to their roles out here,” Tucker commented as he started the game of following the leader. Entering onto a large graveled lot, Tucker felt uneasy as he watched the gates close behind them in the rearview mirror. What I’m I worried about? I guess I’ve been spending too much time around Edge, starting to think like him, he thought.
“Does anyone find this odd?” Edge asked, suspicious. “They didn’t ask who Tucker and I were, let alone the three others in the next car. If this facility is as secret as you say, I would expect them to at least ask for IDs from everyone and search the vehicles, White House style.”
“You got that gut feeling thing going on again?” Tucker asked, not surprised that Edge was uneasy as well.
“Make fun of the gut, but it’s gotten me through a lot; everything from ambushes to my great aunt’s casserole. The taste still gives me shivers.”
“Close call in those ambushes?” Ramona asked.
“Yeah, but that casserole left the more serious scars,” he continued, causing them all to laugh, lighting the mood.
A few hundred yards inside the gate the team came to an immense turning circle. Within the circle were mazes of stacked lumber prepared for cutting. The ATV stopped in front of the middle of the three large, prefabricated structures. Above the entrance was a star with a red number two on it.
“Would you look at this,” Pitch said stepping out of the car looking around. The lumberyard consisted of three Quonset huts but on a scale that none of them had seen before. Each was half the size of a football field and covered in rust, clearly displaying their age. Inside the two flanking huts were piles of lumber that stood fifteen to twenty feet high, each set cut, stacked and prepared for shipping. “Looks like this place is still operational,” he continued while car doors slammed behind him.
“That’s because it is still operational. Employs nearly a hundred workers; a very large operation for this area,” Ramona answered.
Edge was taking in the lumber yard’s layout. He had seen and heard of many other secret government facilities, but this one took the icing on the cake; an entire complex built underneath a fully operational lumber yard. No wonder the cover was working.
“Sooo… how long has this place been operational again?” Tucker asked.
“Sixty-three years to be exact,” a male voice answered beside them. Everyone turned to see the source of the voice and found a middle-aged African American male, wearing khaki pants with a crease capable of cutting through solid stone. His brown boat shoes appeared as though he had used them to run a marathon through the Gobi desert. A pair of small, round-rimmed glasses sat on his broad nose, only increasing his look of nerdiness. He looked as though he had not shaved in weeks, with the gray hairs on his face about the same length as those on his head. Still, the man was fit, with solid arms that filled in his short sleeve, button down flannel shirt.
Ramona’s eyes opened wide when she heard the voice.
“I’m Doctor…,” he began.
“Collins,” Ramona finished, with a touch of awe in her voice.
“Yes, I am. How do you know that young lady?” he asked.
“I’m Ramona Xuxa, and I studied your work on space propulsion systems while at M.I.T. I always saw pictures of you but never thought I would get to meet you. And if I say so myself, it’s an honor meeting you, Dr. Collins,” she gushed, extending her hand. “Your theories have helped revolutionize how we perceive space travel.”
Shaking her hand, he replied, “Well I would have to say the honor is truly mine, for it’s not an easy task nowadays to find an individual excited by my work.”
“Believe me, Doctor…” she began to gush again.
Clearing his throat, Tucker regained Ramona’s attention, noticing that she was getting off on a bit of a fan-girl tangent.
“Excuse me, Dr. Collins,” she redirected the conversation. “This is Agent Dante Tucker of the CIA, along with Agent Smith, Agent Zingler, Agent McDowell and Agent Fernandez,” gesturing to Edge Trident, Doom, and Pitch, respectively.
“Yes,” he answered. “I am already aware of your visit,”
“How’s that doctor?” Edge asked.
“Well, I happened to be in our director’s office when the guard buzzed him about your arrival. At the time he was busy, so I volunteered to escort you, giving the director more time to receive you properly. And speaking of your arrival, if everyone is ready we shall proceed,” he said as he started down a paved pathway between buildings two and three.
۞۞۞۞
“So exactly how do you know Dr. Collins again?” Tucker asked Ramona as Dr. Collins guided the group down the pathway, with Trident, Doom, and Pitch at the rear.
“From studying propulsion technology, particularly space propulsion. He’s the go-to guy for it,” she answered.
“Where were you when I needed an introduction for my seminars,” Dr. Collins laughed.
“I was probably still doing my time at NASA,” she answered with a smile.
“NASA? That’s great,” he congratulated.
“So, Dr. Collins, may I ask what your role is here at the facility?” Edge chimed in. Tucker seemed too preoccupied with Ramona’s history to redirect the conversation and if it was not kept focused they would soon be talking about Klingon Warbirds.
“As Agent Xuxa stated, my expertise is in advanced propulsion, which helps me take on various roles here. One of them is as head of the propulsion laboratory’s, however the director has also blessed me with,” he gave a pretended cough, “other duties as well, such as having oversight of manufacturing, a job I’m still getting accustomed to. Now may I ask you, what brings the CIA here?”
In the rear, some distance back, Pitch asked Trident, “So what do ya think about this Ramona chick?”
“I’m thinking she’s hot,” Trident answered.
“Yeah, for sure, but I’m wondering more about how she fits into all this.”
“I know what you mean. She seems fairly down to earth; a lot different from most spooks. A lot more so than Mr. Rigid Tucker.”
“Yeah but it bothers me that she comes to this random place, and the first bigwig we meet is an old acquaintance that we happened to run into. Come on now; this Dr. Collins heads all the space technology in the world? It’s too coincidental for my liking,” Pitch continued.
“Your liking? When did you start have a liking? And what does that even mean?” Trident joked.
“Doom, would you let this fool borrow some of your reasoning?” Pitch requested.
Taking his time to
speak as though his words were precious, Doom answered, “All I know is that Edge decided to work with both her and Tucker on whatever this may be about, so that’s enough for me to trust them.”
“Psh. I don’t even know why I asked you. I’ve should’ve figured as much from you,” Pitch said.
“By the way, what type of name is Agent Zingler?” Trident complained, causing Doom to crack a random smile. Pitch just gave his ‘you’re an idiot’ look as they continued to follow the pack on the path ahead of them.
As the team walked down a pathway between storage buildings two and three, they were finally able to fully grasp the magnitude of the structures.
At the end of the paved pathway emerging out of the ground was a gray tubular structure with a domed roof resembling an oversize bullet. Mulch was written across its body in large bold black lettering. At its base sat alone door, large enough to allow a single individual to enter. Lifting his key card from around his neck Dr. Collins passed it in front of a magnetic card reader mounted to the side of the door. A sharp, distinctive beep indicated that the lock had released. As he pulled it open, the squeaking hinges reverberated within.
Inside, the tube continued down fifty or so feet to a concrete floor. A pair of staircases descended into the cavity, ending at a polished door with its own card reader.
As they reached the bottom, Dr. Collins commented, “For your findings, Agent Xuxa, please note that our entrance security is derived from Titan II missile silo designs, updated with enhanced presence-detection and intrusion defense technology.”
“Yes,” said Ramona, “I reviewed the building plans.”
“Then you will also know that security is just past this door. Your credentials will be validated, and I expect there will be no problem since the director is expecting you. Your team will be required to surrender their weapons, however.”
Doom murmured to Pitch, “Saw that coming.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Pitch responded under his breath.
“No, that will not happen,” Ramona calmly informed Dr. Collins.
“I’m sorry, but it’s site policy; no exceptions,” Collins returned politely.
“Doctor, my men and I are here for a reason; relinquishing our weapons is out of the question,” Edge said firmly.
“And what might that reason be?” Collins asked, stiffening his spine.
“That, Dr. Collins, is not your concern,” Ramona respectfully informed him. “Please be assured that my authority extends to superseding your local security protocols if I deem it appropriate. And I do,” she assured him gently while leaving no doubt that there was an iron hand inside the velvet glove.
“Okay. Well, I can see some difficulties here. It’s probably better that I go first and see what I can do,” Collins conceded, showing concern.
As he listened to the exchange between Dr. Collins and Ramona, Tucker was impressed by how authoritative she was. The ability to command a situation was an essential skill in this line of work but it still surprised him to see it in action from her, not that he found it unflattering.
It apparently also surprised Collins, who may have misinterpreted her earlier excitement at meeting him as indicating an easily manipulated personality. He opened the door and led the team into the security checkpoint.
Just inside the door was a small area leading to a metal detector. Along the left wall was the conveyor belt for the scanner and to the right was a nook big enough for a half-dozen people. A large, obviously bullet-proof window ran along the left wall past the scanner to a semi-enclosed area for talking aside with a guard. Just beyond the window, an access door led from the guard booth. On the far wall was the large door leading into the actual complex.
“Wait here,” Collins said, indicating for them not to go through the scanner. As the entrance door closed behind them, there was a definite feeling of being in an air lock. Behind the glass stood three guards dressed in gray fatigues and black vests. Passing through the metal detector, Collins walked past the scanner and went to the guard station at the far end of the booth. He picked up the handset and began speaking with the guard seated inside. After a few seconds, the guard gestured, and another of the guards exited the booth and stood a few feet from Collins.
The team watched the exchange from the other side of the detector, not able to hear what was being said.
“Hey bud, can you tune into their frequency?” Edge asked.
“Not a problem,” Doom replied moving to the front to relay the exchange. “The guards are telling the Doc that we cannot enter the facility armed, and Collins is trying to convince them that we’ve got the clout to override policy, but they’re holding fast, still denying us entrance.”
“You can read lips?” Tucker asked, directing his question to Doom, who did not respond to the question.
“He also makes a killer soufflé,” Edge said, placing a hand on Doom’s shoulder. “Yeah, he’ll tell us what they’re saying…,” before he could finish his statement Ramona had stormed off through the detectors, causing them to squeal to life. She stopped at Collins’ side.
“Or… she’ll tell us,” Edge amended.
The guard next to Collins whipped up his gun. “Ma’am’ stay behind the detectors until I give you permission to enter,” he snapped. Even as the guard was raising his weapon, Tucker went for his gun, but a monster of a hand grabbed him from behind.
“You do that, she gets killed,” Doom whispered. Tucker couldn’t tell if it was the quiet, gravelly tone or the hulking hand that nearly crushed his bones like a twig, but he quickly saw the wisdom of Doom’s advice.
Collins stepped between the guard and Ramona with his hand up and suggested to the guard inside, “Why don’t we call Mr. Quinn and ask him to decide. I’m sure we wouldn’t want to cause any unfortunate incidents here just on our own authority.” The guard hesitated. “You always have your little green button,” Collins added, nodding towards the guard’s console.
The guard finally lowered his weapon and ordered to Ramona, “Ma’am take a step back behind the detectors while you wait, ma’am.” There was little courtesy in his voice.
“So what’s the little green button?” Ramona asked as Collins escorted her back to the group.
“In the case of an aggressive breach, security has orders to initiate a lockdown, filling this very space with Etrophine. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the substance, but….”
“It’s an incapacitating gas that will render us all unconscious in a matter of seconds,” Ramona finished.
“That’s correct. So you can see why it’s wiser not to yank their chain too vigorously,” Collins said as if confiding a secret. “Well, it should just be another minute, and this mess will be sorted out,” the doctor said cheerfully as if he was trying to smooth over a cocktail party spat.
After a moment the guard inside the security room announced through an intercom, “Dr. Collins, you and your party may proceed. Doctor, you are to escort them directly to their destination.” The team gestured quizzically towards their side arms. “You may retain your weapons,” replied the guard in a tone that sounded like he was not enjoying the crow pie.
“Well, that was interesting. Shall we?” Collins asked as he started towards the end door. As they walked past the guard booth, Edge’s team exchanged glances with the men inside. There was no love lost.
There was a loud thud, then a clack and with the sound of suction being broken, the door hissed open. As the massive door swung open on hydraulic hinges, its true size became apparent. The door was four feet thick reinforced concrete, clad in several inches of titanium and stainless steel. It weighed over four tons and was set into four-foot thick reinforced concrete walls. It was not a portal that was going to be opened by force.
“Again, as in a missile silo, a blast-proof door designed to withstand a nuclear detonation,” said Collins, returning to tour-guide mode.
The team found themselves walking down a long sloped corridor. Various pipes and
wires nearly covered every inch of the ceiling. Aside from the soft whoosh of circulating air, there was no sound except for their shoes on the concrete floor.
“Can you believe this place?” Pitch asked in wonder from the rear.
“Yeah, with this type of secrecy you would think we were heading into Area 51 or something,” Trident responded.
“I know.”
Ahead, Tucker and Edge walked behind Ramona and Dr. Collins.
“Doctor,” Edge began, “with a manufacturing operation down here, how do you conceal the heat signature the facility must be giving off?”
“Good question and you’re right. This facility does give off a large heat signature in what seems like the middle of nowhere, which would draw unwanted attention. This is where the lumberyard comes into play again. I don’t know if you noticed, but there was a large building behind the silo. That building is a kiln for drying out lumber more rapidly than air drying. The kiln has a widely varying heat signature so facility heat can be mixed in while still making it very difficult for someone observing to say that an additional source is involved.”
“Smart,” Edge replied.
“I would have to agree with you,” Dr. Collins replied. “Not to brag, but it was my suggestion. Sometimes the simplest ideas solve the largest problems.”
As they came to the end of the corridor, Edge and his team hung back a solid distance behind Collins, Tucker, and Ramona. Collins waved his badge at the card reader and in the half-second before the door clicked open he stepped back, raised his arms and intoned, “Open sesame!”
Tucker and Ramona chuckled slightly, the right audience for his humor.
“The vibe so far hasn’t exactly been welcoming,” said Trident to the team, out of earshot of the other three.
“Wait ‘til the rest of the guests arrive,” replied Edge.
۞۞۞۞
Rise of the Pheonix: Act 2 Page 11