by GJ Fortier
“He just wanted to be sure that you weren’t trying to hurt me.” She scratched the mutt's chest.
“Do you know this dog?” Rob asked, confused.
“I do now.”
Rob slowly settled himself into the seat again, and then, hearing the pit let out a low growl, froze.
June smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t hurt you.”
Rob didn’t know if she was talking to him or to the dog as he forced his nerves to settle. “We still have a little problem,” he said as he considered hot-wiring the car.
“No problem,” June said as he heard some jingling.
He looked over and saw a set of keys dangling from the dog’s collar. Looking to June, he asked. “Would you—?”
“Oh, sure.” She removed the keys and handed them over.
“The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways,” he said as he started the car.
24 Called on the Carpet
EDDIE WAS STARTLED awake as the general came back through the door into her office. He was lying on the leather couch where he had been since early that morning when he was escorted there by base security. The headache that had subsided enough to allow him some much-needed sleep was just beginning to make another appearance as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He touched his bandaged forehead, which proved unwise, and he winced in pain as a result. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to find that it was 7:43 p.m.
He took a moment to familiarize himself once again with his surroundings. The office was large. He guessed that it was twenty by thirty, its walls covered with cherry-colored wood paneling. There were a number of prints, photographs, and certificates decorating the walls, typical of what would be expected in the office of a high-ranking officer. The desk was centered on the room’s only window, which was full of bright sunshine as it faced west in the waning hours of the summer evening. The surface of the desk was sparsely decorated, with a model of a B-2 Stealth bomber being the dominant feature. Before it, near the edge, was a green marble and brass nameplate that read “Brigadier General Paulette J. Stillman, Base Commander.” Behind the model was a laptop computer just to the right of center. Next to it was a white, triangular, well-used ashtray bearing the red, white, and blue CINZANO logo. On the corner of the desk was an oddly generic-looking lamp that was switched off. Bookcases flanked the window behind the desk.
The burgundy leather couch that Eddie was now sitting up on was facing the desk, directly in the center of the room, flanked by two matching Queen Anne chairs, one on each side, with matching dark, wooden pedestal ash trays between each and the couch. Behind Eddie and to the left of the door was an eight-foot maple table with only a speaker phone at its center, surrounded by six more of the Queen Anne's. In the opposite corner was a nearly six-foot-tall rubber tree plant.
The general had given strict orders that Eddie was to remain inside the room until she returned. She emphasized the point by posting two guards outside the door. Stillman was frustrated with the special agent’s stubborn insistence that he couldn't provide her with any information pertaining to the truck or its contents, or even why it was in Georgia for that matter. It had taken her most of the day to work her way up through the red tape to find out who could release Eddie from his silence. When she reached the top, she was intimidated by just how high up this went.
She was a handsome woman in her late forties, standing five foot eight, with shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair that Eddie correctly suspected was just out of regulation. She was wearing desert fatigues and an intense scowl as she sat glaring at the special agent. She tossed the cap that she had been carrying, adorned with a single star, on the desk. She studied Eddie for the briefest of moments, and then picked up the phone. “Senator? Yes, ma'am.” She shoved the receiver in Eddie's direction.
“Hello?” His voice was barely audible. Clearing his throat, he repeated the greeting. “Hello?”
Eddie listened politely to the statement of concern and remorse offered by the woman on the other end of the phone. “Yes, ma'am,” he said. “Thank you, Madam Senator.”
Stillman sat back in her chair and stared unblinking at Eddie as she listened to the one-sided conversation.
“But Senator, I'm compromised. I'm too close to the victims. I think you would be better served if—” He paused as the senator interrupted him. “Senator, one member of my team is dead and two are missing. I'm sure Colonel Talbot and his team can conduct—” Another interruption. He sighed. “Understood.” He set the phone back on the desk.
Stillman replaced the receiver in its cradle and sat back with her arms folded in front of her, giving Eddie an expectant look.
“She's ordered me to take lead on the investigation,” he said disdainfully. He closed his eyes and began massaging his temples, taking care not to touch the bandaged area.
Stillman was dumbfounded. These were not the results she was looking for. “Not until I get the results of the ballistics analysis,” she said, still scowling.
Eddie pulled his Beretta from under his jacket, ejected the clip and placed them on the desk.
She watched him skeptically. “And even then, you can count on Talbot being there every step of the way.”
“It seems I don't have any choice in the matter, since my team is …” He paused in contemplation, then started again. “Since my team is short.” He looked up at Stillman. “Believe me, General, I don't like this any more than you do.”
Stillman frowned. “I assume she authorized you to bring me up to speed.”
“She did.”
She sat forward and smiled slightly. “I'm all ears.”
Eddie explained what he could, but Kingsley had ordered him to keep certain details of the project to himself. When he was through, he thought the general might burst a blood vessel.
“You mean to tell me that there is an entire laboratory under my base, being supplied with men and material from my base, and I wasn't considered worthy enough to be in the loop?” She barely contained her outrage.
Eddie held up his hands in apology. “Don't shoot the messenger. It wasn't my idea.”
The general couldn't help a smirk at the man's deadpan delivery. But anger flashed as she stood and stabbed the intercom button. “Lieutenant, I want my squadron commanders in my office thirty minutes ago.” She snapped her finger angrily off the button. “Somebody on this base knew what was going on and when I find out who it was …” She let the sentence trail off as she stared threateningly at Eddie.
Eddie stared back, expressionless and unimpressed.
A thought came to the general. Perez is just a pawn in this game. He has suffered a loss, and all I’m doing is focusing my anger on him. “I'm sorry about your agents. Especially Turner,” she offered sincerely.
Eddie nodded.
Coming nearer in an effort to defuse their time bomb of a conversation, she sat on the edge of the desk. “Just what, in God's name, are they doing down there that's so dang secretive? Building a flying saucer?”
Eddie was stone faced. “A cloning experiment.”
There was a brief period of stunned silence before she repeated the words. “A cloning experiment?”
Eddie simply nodded again.
“What? Like mice and sheep?”
“No, General.”
“What then?”
“A man.”
“You're telling me that you've been cloning people on my base?”
Eddie held his hands up again. “Not we. I'm just supervising security.”
“Well, how many clones are you keeping secure down there?”
“None, now.”
“The truck,” she stated.
Eddie nodded.
Her expression changed to shocked amazement. “How many?”
“One clone and its donor.”
“Where are they now?”
He shrugged. “Not sure.”
“You’re not sure? What do you mean?”
“They got separated.”
“Cut to the chase,” she demanded.
“There was an … incident.”
“An incident?”
He explained what happened, concluding with, “I think we have the original. Bennett, Mathers, or Cook can tell you for sure.”
“You think?” Stillman asked doubtfully. “What about the other one? What about the clone?”
Eddie shrugged. “We have no idea.”
“What do you mean you have no idea?”
“There are three people missing, besides Doctor Phillips and the … other … Tyler. We don’t know where they are or why they’re missing. When we find them we’ll find some answers.”
“Who’s looking for them? Talbot hasn’t mentioned anything to me about a search.”
“The local LEOs are on that.”
“Who are they looking for?”
“Doctor June Phillips. She was tending to the animals.”
“Who else?”
“The security chief, Sergeant Covington.”
“Well that might answer a few things. He must be on their trail.”
Eddie looked through the window at the sun hanging low on the horizon, shrouded by clouds. “I need to know more about your man Covington.”
“Talbot's people are working on that.”
“Good.”
Stillman followed Eddie's stare out the window. “Well, we've got three dead and three missing. Who do you think shot Captain Walsh?”
Eddie shrugged. “The only people in the trailer who were armed were myself, Jo Turner, and Sergeant Covington. My weapon hasn't been fired. Jo's Sig is missing and … I have no idea about Covington. I'm betting the killer used Jo's gun. Has your sergeant checked in?”
“I've never met Covington. I'd never even heard his name until today. He transferred in a few weeks ago from Elmendorf. And no, he hasn't checked in.”
“Well, that either makes him dead—”
“Or a suspect,” the general finished.
As they considered the grim prospect, Eddie asked, “How are the others?”
“They're all alive. Mathers is seeing to Bennett, that little—” she shook her head. “The little punk has a broken arm. We took him to the base hospital. Cook ruptured his spleen and needed surgery. We sent him up to Macon. The other one, Tyler, has no apparent injuries, but he hasn't regained consciousness. We're sending him over to Houston Medical Center for an MRI.” She considered Eddie for a moment. “We do know one thing. The crash was an accident.”
“What caused it?”
“A deer went through the windshield. That's what killed the driver.”
Eddie took it in stride.
“Your M.E. and forensic scientist are at the morgue. They arrived this afternoon.”
“Very well.”
“The NCIS director wants updates every four hours. Talbot will keep me updated.”
Eddie nodded.
She wagged a threatening finger at him. “You tell your people that if there's anything down there that's hazardous or puts my people in danger—”
“To be on he safe side, why don't you keep your people out of there and out of my way,” he interrupted.
She looked at him doubtfully. “Not on your life.”
He shrugged. “Worth a shot.”
Stillman smirked. “How long will it be before we can get that mess off the road and open it up again?”
“Depends on how good a job your colonel has done.”
“Now, then.”
“I’ll let you know. I need a vehicle.”
“I'll call the motor pool and arrange something. It'll be ready by the time you get there.” She then added, “I’ll have Talbot redeploy to the complex. How do they get in there?”
Eddie headed for the door. “I've got a pretty good idea, but I was inside the truck. I couldn't see a bloody thing, but the entrance shouldn't be too hard to find.”
“Oh. Special Agent Perez?”
Eddie turned in the doorway to face her.
“I want to see your Korean professor as soon as possible.”
Eddie smiled and then nodded as he closed the door.
Stillman sat behind her desk and removed a pack of cigarettes from one of the drawers. She lit one and drew hard. An evil smile grew on her face as she contemplated her choices of remote bases. After all, she wanted the officer who was responsible for supplying the facility to be as uncomfortable as possible.
* * * * *
EDDIE ARRIVED BACK AT the accident scene and took a moment to survey the carnage. The sun had set as he stood by the overturned trailer. He peered in and saw Air Force personnel scouring every square centimeter of the now well-lit space. Eddie tried hard to remember any details about the accident, but through the fog of pain he could only vaguely remember hearing shots as he struggled to regain consciousness.
The colonel's team had done a thorough job of collecting fingerprints and evidence, all of which had been delivered to Malik Ghazini, who was Eddie's forensic scientist, at the workspace he was given on base. It had most of what he needed, but some of the more detailed analyses would require more specialized equipment. Doctor Alan Gentry, the team’s medical examiner, had wasted no time at the local civilian hospital conducting an autopsy on Captain Benny Walsh.
“Agent Perez, Colonel Talbot needs to see you at the Quik Mart, sir,” a young eager- looking lieutenant informed him.
Eddie took one last look around. “Very well. Get this place cleaned up so they can open the road.”
“Yes, sir.”
When he arrived at the store, he saw several trucks on the lot. There was a tent near the front door of the building where the drivers were being detained. Dozens of Air Force personnel scurried about doing various tasks. As he got out of the car, Eddie noticed that one of the semis was parked next to the building where the secret entrance was.
Talbot met him at the car. “Okay, Special Agent, the scene is yours and I am at your disposal,” he informed Eddie stoically, accepting the order to turn the investigation back over without question.
“What have you found so far?”
Talbot smiled. “I’ve found some relief that all this is back on your shoulders. Other than that, we had to break into the store. It was deserted. We dusted for prints and found … well, a lot. It is a convenience store.”
“Well, all the employees were your people. They probably buttoned things up and went underground.”
“No, sir. Not my people. I knew nothing about this place. We did find this, though.” He handed a laminated parchment to Eddie.
“A bankruptcy notice?”
“Taped to the front door.”
“Not very convincing.”
“I figure somebody just put it there to fool imbeciles,” the colonel stated matter-of-factly. “We found what we think is one of the entrances to the complex inside an office, but we haven’t figured out how to open it yet.”
“Mather’s office. It has to be opened from the inside.” He looked at the colonel. “Do you have any C-4?”
“Left it in my other suit.”
Eddie headed toward the truck on the east side of the building. “I never went in through the office. But I’m pretty sure I can find the other entrance.”
Watching Eddie, Talbot followed. “All the civilian drivers claim they're just working stiffs. But something about them just don't smell right.”
“Trust me, Colonel. They don't know much, but they know something. They're all civil service. The driver of this truck knows the most.” Eddie gestured to the semi parked next to the building's east side. “You didn't check inside?”
“It's all civilian property. We can't touch it without probable cause.”
“I can,” Eddie assured him.
“This many people, this well organized. How high up does this thing go?”
“To the stratosphere, Colonel.”
“Call me Jim.”
25 Just in Case
TIONG AWOKE WITH A pounding headache. He could te
ll, even through the chemically induced haze, that he was in a dimly lit room. Was it a room? It felt like it was moving. There was a high-pitched hum. Maybe truck tires speeding down the highway. He could hear the sound of a compressor as it kicked on somewhere behind him. There was a vibration, shaking now and then, and it was cold enough that he could see his breath. Through the brain fog, he tried to recall and make sense of the recent events as they had happened.
Someone had alerted him and told him that Rob was in some kind of distress, and then there was a mad dash to get him and the newly awakened clone out of the complex, and get Rob to a hospital. He and the professor had been left behind, along with most of the security personnel, and two of the NCIS agents, Geri Hughes and Cal Warren. The captain and the others had left in the transfer truck. Soon after, four armed men dressed in black and a fifth man in a business suit had entered the facility. They had taken Stan and Jackie captive, and then they had herded everyone into the parlor where they tossed in canisters that spewed some kind of gas, choking them and then … he was here. He rubbed his eyes and then immediately regretted it as the residue of the gas that was already stinging his eyes intensified. Then he noticed the soreness in his left arm. As he rubbed his bicep and inspected the area as best he could in his dim surroundings, he discovered multicolored welts as well as several needle marks that had scabbed over. A single incandescent bulb in the center of the ceiling illuminated the enclosure.
Scanning around, his eyes came to rest on a bottle of aspirin that was on the metal floor next to the mattress he was laying on. He removed the blankets that covered him and slowly sat up, making the throbbing in his head increase. Wrapping the blankets around him to ward off the cold, he picked up the aspirin and scanned about. “I’m in a truck.”
He was still unable to completely focus. He rubbed his temples, and then heard an unfamiliar voice with a thick southern drawl. “Take some aspirin. It'll help.”
Startled, he looked unsuccessfully for the voice, immediately regretting the sudden movement. “Who is that?”
“I guess ya can call me … Schultz. Yeah, call me Sergeant Schultz.”
“Sergeant Schultz?”
“Yeah, like from Hogan’s Hero's. Wadn't he the one who always got tricked into doing all the dirty work?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Where am I?”