Gretchen indicated that she had something to say, and Six nodded in her direction, "Gretchen?"
Gretchen glanced at her phone and then back up at the team. Addressing the entire team, she said, "Ground transportation is waiting, as is your block of rooms at the motel. I also just received word from headquarters that the FBI has dispatched a Behavioral Analysis Unit team to Trinidad to assist the locals with the case. The BAU does know DHS is en route, and they will be informed that you have jurisdiction. They are going to be focused on profiling the criminals based on human psychoses. You are not hunting humans, and their profiles don't apply. They should be touching down just before we do."
The team leader nodded grimly. "It seems it's going to be up to me to meet with the sheriff, mayor, and this FBI team. I'll try to keep them distracted while gathering information from the locals," Six stated.
Gretchen pulled out the aluminum equipment briefcase and set it on the table. The latches responded to her thumbprints, and the airtight case hissed slightly as the top opened. When the case laid flat, the team could see five brand new smartphones. Each smartphone had a case and holster packed in the foam below it, and mounted above each was a team member's call sign.
As she handed them out, Gretchen turned on each device to let it go through its power process. As the little white fruit appeared on the screen, it was replaced by a grayed-out Department of Homeland Security seal, and she handed the phone to its new owner. She started talking as she handed them out.
"These are your new Secure Smart Phones, or SSPs as they are called around the office. Each one is synced to its own user, and each one can only be operated by its owner, or someone on this team. As they fire up, you will see a list of somewhat standard apps, as well as a few new icons. There are several contacts already programmed into the phone, such as myself, Timothy, and Agent Smith, and you have full access to voice, video, text, or email—all secured.
"There is a folder of apps on your phone that you really should not mess with until you get back from this mission. The apps are esoteric in nature, and you could do great harm to your teammates unless you know what you are doing. Other than that, have fun exploring. Also, you do not have access to the application store, as the software on the phones is somewhat... non-standard. And, Spooky, don't open it up until you get back to the labs at Section 28. I know you want to, but just trust me. The anti-tampering protections are a bit more vicious than your standard protocols. I wouldn't want you to be eaten. Any questions?"
Spooky raised his hand. "Any way I can get this to sync with my wrist computer?"
Gretchen gave a soft laugh. "Actually, Norbert already synced the two devices. He asked me to tell you that he was quite impressed by your, how did he put it, 'fun little device.' He said that he would have some recommendations when you get back. Any other questions?"
The various team members shook their heads, and Gretchen continued, "Ok. We should be about an hour out. Take the time to rest and relax. You won't have much time when you are on the ground." She turned her chair around and stood up, walking to the cockpit to talk to the pilots.
JUST UNDER AN HOUR LATER, Gretchen returned to the passenger compartment and said that they would be landing soon. The team quickly stowed their loose equipment and buckled their safety belts.
In the cockpit, the pilot contacted the tower controller for Pueblo Memorial Airport. "Pueblo Memorial. This is DHS Special Zero Three. Requesting direct clearance."
The traffic controller looked at his displays and saw the special Homeland Security notes attached to the flight plan. Noting the flight time, he wondered what kind of plane they were on. It looked like a small business jet, but it had traveled over Mach .9. "DHS Special, Pueblo Tower. Direct clearance to runway Two-Six Left. Winds are west-northwest at five knots. Nearest traffic at ten miles, fifteen thousand feet and climbing."
"Pueblo Tower, DHS Special. Roger Two-Six Left."
The pilot concentrated on landing the plane gently on the assigned runway. Despite the slight crosswinds, the touchdown was textbook perfect. As the plane rolled out towards the end of the runway, ground control contacted the DHS pilot and guided him to his designated parking spot. He also informed ground control that he needed fuel "ASAP" and clearance for a rapid departure.
As the plane came to a halt, the team members stood and stretched. Grabbing their gear, they approached the door, and waited for the attendant to drop the stairs.
Six stepped into the bright sunshine and immediately put his sunglasses on. The clear air and beautiful sunshine allowed him to see the mountains rising to the west, past the city of Pueblo. Stepping down onto the tarmac, he was met by a woman in sunglasses and a suit that announced "Fed." She stretched out her hand toward him.
"Agent Holstein? I'm Sonja Hart, the DHS SAC for this region. I've got your ground transportation waiting for you, as requested. Will you need any backup or assistance for your deployment?"
He shook Agent Hart's proffered hand and introduced himself. "Please, call me Burt. Except for transportation, I believe we have everything we need for the deployment. If I do need anything, I'll let you know." He released her hand.
Agent Hart evaluated the rest of the unusual team as they filed off the plane. Her eyes widened as Doc stepped off the plane in her gray business suit, with a weird sidearm in a holster on her hip. She looked back at Six and asked, "What's the deployment about? I wasn't given any information other than to bring you the truck. What's going on out here?"
The team leader shook his head. "I'm sorry Agent Hart. You're not cleared for that information. Needless to say, we'll take it from here. Are the keys in the truck?"
Agent Hart nodded, and her voice grew cold. "The keys are in there. I don't like being in the dark about what's going on in my region. It usually means that I have to clean up someone else's mess. Do not make me clean up your mess, Agent Holstein." With that statement, she spun on her heal and stormed off toward the waiting vehicles.
Six looked at the truck waiting for his team. Subtlety is not on the menu, he thought to himself. The truck was a jet-black Golan Mine Resistant Ambush Protected truck, called an MRAP, manufactured by an Israeli firm. Six was familiar with the truck, with the angled front end, and the steel cage surrounding the bullet resistant glass, having driven one while in Iraq. Unlike the MRAPs from Iraq, this one had emergency lights mounted on top and in the grill and was marked with "Police" and "Rescue" on the front and rear bumpers. The only other markings were the Homeland Security seals plastered across the sides. Sitting over two feet off the road, the truck stood over seven-and-a-half feet tall. Almost eight feet wide, the truck was an enormous nineteen feet long. There was not one detail about this truck that was subtle or understated. He loved it!
He turned to his team and barked, "Alright team, let's get our gear. Our transportation awaits."
As the team began lugging their bags toward the truck, a fuel service truck pulled up to the waiting Citation jet. Gretchen arranged for the fueling and then climbed back aboard. As the fuel truck departed, the attendant closed that hatch, and the pilot restarted the engines for the flight back to Langley.
Inside the truck, Boomer climbed up in the driver's seat. Six looked at her and raised his eyebrows.
"Trust me, boss. I'm the one you want driving this heap," she said in her most innocent voice as possible. The former racer car driver continued, "For the rest of you, I really recommend that you strap yourselves in. We'll be in Trinidad soon."
AFTER A BRIEF STOP at a storage facility outside Norfolk to retrieve the majority of Jonas' gear, Timothy had driven the agents back to Section 28. Once they had arrived, Agent Smith had left them in the care of Timothy, with a planned regrouping in three hours. Smith had a busy couple hours ahead of him. He had needed to prepare the contracts and credentials, remove Staff Sergeant Murphy from the Army, and clean up a few police reports. He would be busy.
Timothy had escorted Jonas and Arthur to the Knightmare apartment block, an
d had taken the time to give them a brief tour of the facility on the way. As they had walked, Timothy had answered all of the questions that he could, and had explained more about the mission and drive of the team. Leaving out the "Incursion" background, Timothy had studiously given non-answers about that, and other, classified information.
After a meal and a brief rest, Timothy finally arrived to escort Jonas and Arthur to the conference room. There Agent Smith greeted them and told them to sit down.
The DHS agent started, "Gentlemen, I'm glad that both of you chose to join our team. As Timothy informed you earlier, it is your job to kill monsters—something each of you has done before. You will be joining as a member of a larger team that is currently deployed. In fact, you will be leaving tonight to join them on their current deployment. But before we can do that, you need to sign some paperwork."
Jonas watched as Agent Smith put on a pair of white cotton gloves. He then reached over to a closed lockbox at his right side and opened the lid. Smith reached into the lockbox and withdrew two heavy envelopes, one at a time. Made of white leather, each envelope had a wax seal over the flap and a name embossed above the seal.
Jonas looked at the envelope in front of him and saw a weird script written on and around the edges. Although he could not read what the script said, he recognized the symbols of the ancient Enochian tongue. Agent Smith continued, "Before you open the pouches in front of you, I want you to be very clear about a couple things that will happen when you do so. You might experience a wave of energy or a slight tingling sensation on your fingertips and in your hair. Some have also reported other strange sensory phenomena. I assure you: that is normal.
"This is your last and final chance to step down from this team. If you choose to decline, you will go back to where you were when I recruited you. Granted, that would be police custody for both of you, but you certainly wouldn't be in nearly as much danger as I'm going to throw at you. Do either of you want to exercise that option now?" Smith paused to see if either would take the deal.
When it was clear that neither man wanted to leave, Smith continued, "If you would now open your envelopes, taking care not to touch any of the materials from your other teammate. Inside, you will find a contract and a pen. Please pull out both of the items and begin reading the contract. This contract shows that you are freely offering to join the team and will be bound by the terms of this contract. This contract is also your formal work contract for the Department of Homeland Security, assigned to Section 28. A large part of this contract explains that this agreement will bar you from mentioning Section 28, what you do, or what you are hunting, except under certain, very explicit circumstances. Even the existence of Section 28 is classified as Top Secret - Black and is on a need-to-know basis.
"On the back page, there is a spot to sign your name and then put the date. When you pick up the pen and begin to write, you may feel a slight pinch in one of your fingers. This is by design. At that time, your blood will be taken, and mixed with the ink when you sign the contract. Each of your contract agreements is exactly the same. At this time, please read through the agreement carefully and sign where indicated."
It took over an hour for both men to carefully read through the lengthy documents. Once Jonas and Arthur signed the contracts, Smith directed them to carefully place them into the envelopes, and then he collected and stored the files. Reaching for the two credential holders on his left, he smiled and said, "Welcome to the Department of Homeland Security, Section 28. Here are your credentials."
He handed the first folio to Jonas. "Special Agent Jonas Vanhof. Your new call sign is 'Ghost' while on missions. Your role on the team is two-fold. First, you are the second in command of the team. You will support your team leader, Burt Holstein, in that role, assisting with planning, as well as media relations and liaison with local law enforcement. Your secondary role will draw on your unique background. You are tasked with esoteric R&D in the field. You have the resources to know what it takes to kill most of the nasties that you come across, and you have the experience to rig up any supplies or materials to be effective."
He handed the second folio to Arthur. "Special Agent Arthur Murphy. You are the heavy weapons specialist for the team. Primarily fire support, you will augment the standard firepower with something bigger. Your mission call sign is 'Heavy.'"
Agent Smith then said to both team members, "I would love to give you much more time to learn and work, but I need to fly you out tonight. So, I'm going to have Timothy take you to the Section 28 Warehouse. Draw whatever gear you need. Gretchen, your Team Liaison, should be back in about an hour. I want you ready for your trip in two hours. You can sleep on the flight."
As the new agents left the conference room, Agent Smith compiled all the records and prepared the pertinent information to be sent to their new team leader, Six. He had now officially closed the recruiting for Team Knightmare.
Jonas and Arthur followed Timothy to the Warehouse. Jonas spent most of his time while in the Warehouse, talking with Norbert. Afterwards, he drew ammo for his revolver from the armorer and a Kevlar vest from the Equipment section. Arthur, however, spent a great deal of time talking with Russell. Reminiscing about their time in the service, Arthur eventually drew a sidearm and his favorite weapon of all time: the M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. The SAW was a belt-fed machine gun that used the same rifle cartridges as the M4 carbines that the rest of the team carried, and could even use M4 magazines in a pinch. Holding one in his hands again, Arthur couldn't wait to get to his new team. He then walked over to the Equipment section to draw a heavy flak vest and the rest of his kit.
As Jonas and Arthur were stowing their gear into their bags, Gretchen walked into the Warehouse and introduced herself. Looking a little frayed around the edges from the last seven hours of traveling, she held a travel mug of coffee in her left hand. As they talked, she led the two new agents toward the airfield where the Citation was again being fueled and prepped. The flight attendant greeted that agents on the ground and let them know that they were still waiting for the replacement flight crew.
Within a few minutes, the fresh flight crew emerged from the complex and walked toward the plane. After a quick, but thorough, pre-flight inspection, they told the attendant and the team that they could board the plane. Within moments, the plane was making its second flight that day to Pueblo, Colorado.
14
TRINIDAD
TRINIDAD, COLORADO.
As the blacked-out MRAP screeched to a halt in the parking lot of the South Central Council of Governments, the passengers inside all had different reactions. The monster Cummins turbo-diesel rumbled and died away. Boomer turned around from the driver's seat and smiled. "Everyone still alive?" she asked.
A general chorus of moans and groans greeted her query. Six managed to find his voice and asked, "Where on earth did you learn to drive like that? I thought we were going to die... several times!"
The driver smiled and blushed at the same time. "I used to race cars and boats growing up. That's why I'm the driver. Besides, we made it in record time."
God groaned from the back, "Yes, but that was normally a ninety-minute drive. I know. I grew up around here. I'm not sure I could have made it in an hour in my car, let alone an armored truck. I don't even want to know how fast you were going."
Boomer laughed. "That's good because I couldn't tell you. I buried the speedometer when we left Pueblo. The important thing is that we made it." As she finished, a sheriff's car came roaring up, lights and siren blazing. The siren abruptly shut off, and a man in a sport coat and Stetson hat stepped out of the passenger side.
The explosives expert looked sheepish and said, "Heads up, boss. Looks like the locals know we're here."
The team leader sighed and shakily climbed down out of the rear hatch. Pausing to catch his breath and calm his nerves, he straightened and walked toward the lawman. Drawing his badge from his pocket, Six held it up so the sheriff could see it. "Special Agent Burt Hol
stein, Department of Homeland Security. Are you Sheriff Klooster?"
The sheriff nodded and looked the Fed up and down. He reached out his own hand. "Yes, Agent Holstein. Sheriff John Klooster. I didn't expect you guys for another hour. I was told your plane only landed an hour ago."
The man laughed weakly. "If you get any reports of low flying aircraft shaped like a truck, or possibly UFOs, you might want to talk to our driver." Boomer smiled and waved as she climbed out of the truck.
Sheriff Klooster shook his head. "Well, that's a first for Feds, actually admitting to something. So, what brings Homeland Security to our humble little town?"
Six looked at the sheriff and said, "Can we find someplace to talk privately? And you may want to get the mayor involved."
Thirty minutes later, the mayor, the sheriff and undersheriff, and the Trinidad police chief and assistant chief were assembled in a conference room in the SCCG building. While the rest of the team was checking the gear and preparing to hunt the creatures, their team leader was holding the initial briefing.
As the assistant police chief walked in, Six began his prepared speech. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you that I have not met, I am Special Agent Burt Holstein from the Department of Homeland Security. I would introduce the rest of my team, but they are preparing for our deployment. Everything that I tell you in this meeting is Confidential and Need-to-Know. You do not have the authority to determine who has the need to know."
Ignoring the questioning looks, Six continued, "We are the advanced team for a unit that specializes in a particular kind of terrorism campaign. We have very specific, credible intelligence that the five murders you experienced over the last month and a half are tied to a very specific type of foreign operative. I know that the FBI is sending a Behavioral Analysis Unit to help profile what you, and they, believe is a serial killer. They will be working the situation from that angle, while we work it from our own direction. At this time, that is all that I can tell you; however, I will expect full cooperation while we are here. I expect to wrap up this in a couple days at the most. Does anyone have any questions?"
INCURSION: Knightmare (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 1) Page 11