Jimmy felt the full force of the statement. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to update me on your new offensive?”
Tanner nodded at Briggs. “Go ahead and show him the rest of the slides. It seems we’re putting all cards on the table. He might as well know everything.”
The projector whined back on, its beam growing in intensity.
“The HOPE satellites can be launched and in orbit within a week,” Tanner narrated.
“A week?” Jimmy scoffed. Then again, what was the use.
Tanner raised a stifling hand. “A week. NASA has already okayed the schedule change. They’re even doing a special news piece covering the liftoff—a public relations clip. We knew this could happen since it is an unprecedented launch: the largest cargo yet put into space. We have to play along, you see.”
Jimmy sat, wide-eyed and unbelieving. When had he lost control? How had he allowed himself to become so entirely yoked? He, the puppeteer, now the puppet. It was becoming ever more clear that he would have to be dealt back in into the game, or they would throw him out.
“NASA wants to fly your mother to the Cape, to witness the launch first hand. It will be a news blitz, and they know it . . . getting a Reitman in the public eye.”
“She’ll never go,” Jimmy replied, flatly. “She won’t leave Sandcastle at this crucial time.”
Tanner stood abruptly. “You must get her there,” his finger pointed like a gun. “Our plan depends on it.”
Jimmy shook his head. “She will not go, and I cannot make her.”
Tanner held up a hand, his lips curved upwards. “We’re getting to that.”
Briggs flipped to the next image. “The Goliath incursion will take place while Mrs. Reitman is away from the estate.”
“What about the children, Jessie and Sam? If what you say is true, they will also be at the estate. Or do you plan to eliminate them like you did Tom and my Father? You are getting very proficient in the business of assassination, after all.”
Tanner glared at the man, his distain over the comment obvious. “That won’t be necessary,” he managed. “In fact, since you mentioned the children, I’ll bring you up to speed. It seems that a model family has already contacted the DCFS—a Miss Henington, I believe—about adoption procedures. Your mother has already had the applicant family checked out very thoroughly, as we knew she would, and it seems,” he continued boastfully, “that they are just what the doctor ordered for the two orphans. She couldn’t be more pleased.”
“You had this set up,” Jimmy realized. “There is no family.”
“Agents and actors, I’m afraid.” Tanner grinned emotionlessly. “When we hit Sandcastle, Jessie and Sam will be away spending quality time with their new prospective family. Like you said, Doctor Reitman, we really don’t want to eliminate children . . . if it can be avoided.” It was as though Tanner were speaking of some bothersome rodents. He then turned to his briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper. He slung it across the table. “Now let’s talk about our secret weapon.”
“Your secret weapon?” Jimmy repeated, glaring down at the flyer. He perused the wording, focused on the graphics, the sketches and the headings. Then he raised up in a confused look. “An opera?”
“Yes. And not just any opera. Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. It’s playing at the Ziff Opera House, in Miami, the night of the launch.” Tanner explained.
Jimmy blinked. His expression muddled.
“You have front row seats,” Tanner continued. “Two. One for you, one for your mother.”
Now the realization of Tanner’s plan began to coalesce. And in an instant, Jimmy perceived. Tanner had exploited the one known fact about the reclusive Gracie Reitman: she adored the Opera, and had longed to go one more time while she still was able.
“I see,” Jimmy’s head drew down, his eyes falling again to the pamphlet. “You want me to use this opera as a ploy; a celebration for the successful launch, for the culmination of HOPE.”
“Correct.” Tanner replied. “You see, we have given you all the ammunition you need to get your mother to Florida. You just have to sell her the package.”
Jimmy’s eyes remained fixed on the pamphlet. “And what happens after the opera?” he finally managed.
“During,”—Tanner corrected,—“the opera, Gracie Reitman will suffer a debilitating stroke. It will be very public, and many will witness her being whisked away by ambulance.”
“It won’t be a stroke, of course,” Briggs quickly clarified. “And she won’t be going to a hospital. The temporary housing we have in mind is a fully-staffed, well-guarded, secured living area. It is what you had in mind all along for her. She’ll be very well taken care of, and comfortable. She’ll have everything she needs. She’ll be out of the way, Jim. Reitman Enterprises will be all yours. You can develop the HOPE technology in any direction you want.”
Jimmy nodded in a slow stoic draw.
Tanner cleared his throat—an unpleasant habit which was beginning to annoy. He dug down into his briefcase and drew out another folder. He slid it across the table to Jimmy.
“What’s this?”
“The updated plan. It replaces all previous information you have on our tactical penetration and removal of the Four.”
Jimmy eyed the documents, then pushed them aside.
Tanner leaned back in his chair. “Do you need some time to review and consider?”
“No,” he replied blankly. “I’m confident that they are thorough.”
“Let me continue with the strategy, then,” Tanner said. “The moment your mother is secured, you will contact the Four and inform them of the situation. They will be devastated, naturally, and want as much information as possible. It stands to reason that with the satellites just being placed into their orbital paths, all of the Four will be working together in the UCC. Am I correct in this assumption?”
Jimmy hesitated. “It stands to reason, yes. Epsilon-MU1 (Mother Umbilical 1) is currently the UCC which is scheduled to be manned. But this could change. There are no guarantees.”
“Precisely. Which is why we need to increase the odds. When you notify them that first time, you will ask that they gather at exactly twenty-hundred hours and fifty minutes; at which point in time, you will update them on all that has happened, and on your mother’s current condition.”
“You’re going to gas MU1—knock them out,” Jimmy suddenly understood. “Now that is a change from the original plans.”
“Yes. Hence the need for them to be together, and in a preselected umbilical. If MU1 is the current choice, see to it that it stays MU1. With your help, we can easily circumvent your fancy security system. But we can’t guarantee their safety during the siege. Besides, with Ruthanne’s unique telepathic abilities, she’d see us coming and sound the alarm. Sandcastle would go into lock-down—a Fort Knox. It would all be over. That’s why we need to have them debilitated and removed before our team goes in.”
Jimmy nodded. “I can place a gas canister on a timer when I place the beacon.”
“Do whatever you must,” Tanner interjected gesturing to the folder. “It’s all there, Doctor. If we’ve missed anything, you’ll need to amend and convey.”
“There shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What about the companion androids?” ask Briggs, who until that moment had been rather silent throughout Tanner’s presentation. “I understand that Jacob”—he paused—“and that metal companion of his are nearly inseparable.”
Jimmy snorted irritatingly. “Yes. Jacob’s Three-of-Ten. That’s one system I’d like to terminate personally. Jacob has pushed its artificial intelligence far beyond the established limits. The rest of the team just turns a blind eye to him.”
Tanner’s eyebrows rose. A bit of history he was not aware of perhaps? He turned an oblique eye on Jimmy. “Are these companion systems a threat?”
“Not to the Goliaths,” Jimmy replied.
“And the two android assistants assigned to help Mrs. Reitman in
the estate?” Briggs again probed.
Jimmy shook his head. “They are aids only and have no defense capabilities. No weaponized technology is allowed above ground,” Jimmy stated. Then he grumbled something under his breath, and swore. “That is except for Jacob’s Three-of-Ten,” he amended angrily. “That menacing droid seems to be the exception for all the rules. Just another reason for turning it into scrap.”
“You’re certain,” Tanner asked.
“Yes, Mr. Tanner. It appears I’m under duress, and your new plan is the plan. I’ll have everything under control.” Jimmy closed the folder and set back his chair. “I am curious about one thing, though. How do you plan to get the Four to cooperate. They won’t just jump in and start bonding. They would rather die than help militarize the HOPE technology.”
Tanner smiled concededly. “Yes. You’re quite right. That is why we use your mother and the two children for collateral, or so they will be told. I’m certain we’ll have their full support.”
“I see,” Jimmy replied, his voice tainted by a hint of skepticism. He reached and picked up his original documents from the table. He tapped them lightly then tore the stack in half, tossing the pieces into a nearby trashcan. Then he took the folder which Tanner had given him and slipped it into his briefcase.
“Are we clear then?” Tanner asked, his eyes shifting from Briggs to Jimmy.
“There is just one more thing,” Jimmy added as he stood in preparation of leaving. “If you ever circumvent me again, I’ll blow Sandcastle to oblivion myself. Do I make myself clear?”
Tanner smiled with sickening ease. He glanced at Briggs and did his best to appear calm and impregnable.
“I want back in the game. Do you hear me. No more surprises,” Jimmy demanded, glaring threateningly from one man to the other. Each knowing, absolutely, that he meant it.
“Very well,” Tanner finally spoke, his voice a little dry.
Briggs turned off the projector and flipped on the lights.
“Truth is,” Tanner continued openly. “I’m glad to have you back in the know.” He tossed a quick glance at Briggs. “Aren’t we Colonel.”
“Absolutely.” Briggs replied agreeably. But as he lifted his cup for a last sip of coffee, it trembled ever so slightly in his hands.
Chapter 35:
The past few days at the estate had been a time of adjustment, of acclimation and of understanding. And with each new day, Jessie and Sam felt more at home in their desert abode. One thing they had discovered for certain: the desert was a very toasty place to live, and this day looked to be another scorcher.
It was just after 10:00 A.M, and the sun bore down with its maximum fury. The heated sands rippled the horizon in great billows of distorted air which danced upon the flat land like giant ocean swells.
Jessie stepped on to her balcony and leaned into the warm updraft of air. She brushed out her wet hair, teasing it dry from her morning shower—it didn’t take long. Looking outward, she got a sense that every critter capable of movement would certainly take refuse under rock and wood to wait out the day’s prime bake. In the distance, beyond the lush sanctuary of the grounds, she understood the cruel reality of the harsh desert environment, as sparse patches of wild foliage battled the onslaught of heat for a spot on the pale horizon. But not all creatures out and about felt compelled to stay shade-bound.
It was the perfect morning for a lizard hunt, or so Sam had exclaimed right after breakfast, standing impatiently at the foot of the stairs. The boy had harassed his sister incessantly since spying a rather interesting reptile scaling the eaves above his own terrace. Jessie had finally weakened, and agreed to a brief safari. She knew she would regret it, and in fact, thought the entire awful task was far beyond the expected duties of even the most dedicated of sisters. But the grounds of the estate were vast, and there was a lot to see and explore. Besides, the last two days had seen both kids turned nearly aquatic, having almost lived in the indoor pool. Perhaps it was time to get outdoors and see the grounds.
So far, Gracie had proven to be every bit as kind a matriarch as the kids had hoped for. Her only restrictions—given with surprising sternness—came as an absolute: These areas of the estate are undisputedly, off limits. Her declaration had come that first night, amid cookies and ice cream. In fact, as Jessie recalled it, Gracie had repeated each area specifically, until her repetition had become almost irritating . . . something about teenagers and attention span?
In other homes, the rules had included such things as curfews, chores, schedules—that kind of stuff. So being asked to stay out of certain rooms and areas of the estate, wasn’t really that big of a deal. After all, the kids had yet to live in a home where certain areas—be it a room, nook, closet or corner—were deemed: off limits!
The list of the untouchables at the estate, included the library—an odd request but certainly not a big deal, especially during summer break. The entire west landing of the upper floor, which was Gracie’s personal living quarters—that was certainly understandable; the employee’s quarters—again no surprise; and finally, the magnificent solarium. Now this had come as a disappointment since the massive glass-domed structure simply oozed with mystery, especially when viewed from the outside. But other than those few areas, the two kids had free-rein. Not a bad deal in all of Eden.
“Come on, Jessie. Ruthanne said there aren't any snakes on the grounds!" Sam shouted from the bottom of the steps in a voice twice his size. He held an insect net in one hand and a large canning bottle in the other. Both of which Ellen had happily provided the night before, stating that these were . . . definitely a required combination for any serious desert hound. With that kind of backing, Jessie knew she had been outgunned.
"Quit yelling," she ordered, appearing from her room and scowling like a bandit.
Sam snickered, then caught himself.
“What?”
“You look really lame.” The words just spilled out; he couldn’t help it. There she stood in shorts, tee-shirt and a pair of old hiking boots—three times her size—put on over a pair of heavy wool socks, and those pulled up above her knees; definitely not a candidate for a spot in any fashion magazine. But if it made his sister feel safer and less likely to get fanged by a venomous serpent, so be it, thought Sam humorously. “And where did you get those funny-looking boots?” he added, unable to stop himself.
“They’re Jacob’s,” she retorted proudly. “He said I could borrow them.”
“Ooh, Jacob’s,” he teased. “Did you snuggle up to them first?”
“Do you want me to go with you or not,” she returned a strangling glare.
“Sorry. Just kidding around.”
Sam couldn’t resist such enticing ammo. And why not? Since Jacob’s rather odd introduction that first night at dinner, the kid had shown up every evening just at dusk when his shift started. Evidently he had some kind of full-time job during the day, and only worked a few hours at the estate in the evening. Sam had noticed, however—and with a keen eye—that Jacob’s shift always began with an hour-long flirtation with Jessie, a revolting, gushy interlude which Jessie didn’t seem to mind one bit!
“Jacob was just being nice,” Jessie countered, then sneered. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”
Sam rolled his eyes, then started back down the hallway.
Jessie wanted to appear irritated, but in truth, she didn’t mind when Sam teased her about Jacob. It made her realize that others noticed something special brewing between them, and that was a good thing. It was probably more obvious than Jessie wanted to admit, but yes, she was smitten, and could hardly think of anything else but her new found crush—this part-time gardener everybody called, Jacob.
The kid was not like anyone she had ever met. He was so mature, so kind and polite. He burst into laughter at everything she said, but in a cute, fun way; a way that made her want to see him laughing the rest of her life. And when they talked, Jacob would hang on her every word, seemingly thrilled as her lips formed
the phrases, listening with an intensity so sincere that it made her feel like she was the most important person in the whole world.
During the last week, they had spent hours walking, hand-in-hand throughout the grounds, talking and laughing. And two nights ago, while sitting on the edge of the fountain, Jacob had kissed her! It was the most incredible kiss Jessie had ever experienced! And when their lips finally parted, he had smiled and looked at her such sincere eyes, such goodness that his expression—his wonderful face—had burned itself forever in her mind. And although the fountain had thrown mist down upon them, dampening their hair, clothes and skin . . . in the moonlight, Jessie swore she had seen a tear roll down his cheek—moisture not from any fountain. It had been an incredible evening.
Since that night, Jessie had realized just how strong her feelings were for Jacob. But in truth, she knew little about the kid, except that he was very private—something she just didn’t understand quite yet. From the very beginning, her intuition had hinted that there might be some kind of smear on the background of her perfect picture; something she just couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was the fact that everything was going so well, so perfect . . . too perfect in fact. Her past, like two ends of opposing magnets, just didn’t seem to allow for a normal, coherent lifestyle; and that thought always made her feel somewhat pessimistic about relationships.
Strangely, as attentive as Jacob was to her, he avoided any questions about his own life like a plague. She had asked him simple things, stuff that comes up in every-day conversation: family, hobbies, high-schools, sports—questions like that. But there had been no straight answers. Instead, Jacob had this process . . . an avoidance process. It went something like this: he’d give her some kind of lame answer, followed by a silly laugh. Then he would change the subject—usually directing it back to her. Jessie figured in time, she’d find out why he was so elusive, and if not, she’d ask Gracie. And if Gracie wouldn’t talk, she’d hit Ruthanne or Ellen up for answers. One of them had to know something.
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