by F Stone
Glancing over the report, he retraced the scientist’s data. There were inconsistencies in the crystals’ response to manipulation. Sometimes the crystals obeyed the energy stimulus. Other times, the crystal remained lifeless. He searched for a pattern. Finally, he found it. There it was — so obvious now that he was searching for it. The only times the crystals appeared to function were when Butchart was present.
“Damn!” Activating his comlink, he shouted, “Captain Butchart, report to my office!”
In the minutes before Butchart arrived, the admiral devised a plan. He calmed down and sat casually behind his desk. He wanted to see how much of a fight Butchart would put up if he was told he’d not be present during the upcoming demonstration. When Butchart arrived, the admiral directed him to sit.
“Frank, I’ve been advised that the East American Naval Port requires a temporary placement of someone with your skills. You’ve been selected. I’ll need you to advise who can perform your duties in your absence.”
Butchart was briefly stunned. “Sir, we’re busy setting up security for the government leaders’ visit to our base next week for the demonstration. Our most influential leaders will be present, and they demand a high level of security. Surely another security officer is capable of filling the East American position, sir.”
“No, Frank. I know in your efficient hands security has already been planned and details addressed. All that’s needed is for your staff to carry out your instructions. You’ll leave in the morning.”
Butchart began to almost convulse in his chair and stood up. “Admiral, I must be present during the demonstration.”
“Sit!” For a while, the admiral simply sent daggers of rage in Butchart’s direction. Butchart had become his military confidant and his personal advisor. Now, like all others, he’d been proven unworthy.
Butchart did his best to regain his composure. He’d been through countless moments over the years when the admiral had appeared to be on the verge of personally conducting a beheading. He lowered back down into the chair, shifting his position only once.
The admiral stood and unlocked a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a crystal. As the sunlight caught the facets, jagged rays of light swirled throughout the office and into Butchart’s eyes. He winced. The admiral placed the crystal gingerly on his desk as though it was important that it sat just so.
“I know why you believe it’s urgent that you be on this base during the demonstration. You!” He thrust his finger toward the captain. “You’re responsible for the success of the scientists’ work. You turned the water to wine. You, and not the scientists, made the chairs disappear. You, Frank!”
“Sir?” Butchart placed a look of puzzlement on his face.
“You heard me. Activate this, this rock. Make it dance, lower the temperature in this room, blow up this whole goddamn desk, if you like. Hey, how about making it rain. That’s it.” He waved his hand in the air. “Make it rain, Frank.”
“Sir, the scientists — ”
“Forget the scientists. Unless you’re some cult voodoo headhunter, this is just a damn rock. Isn’t it?”
Butchart was sweating and becoming flushed. “I don’t believe that’s true, sir.”
“Don’t you lie to me. The only times the so-called sun crystals worked were when you were present. You made the crystals work, not the scientists. You’re part of some damn cult!”
Butchart leaped out of his chair. “And who gave you that line of bullshit?”
“As a matter of fact, it was Captain Waterhouse.”
The muscles in Butchart’s face flexed with the clenching of his teeth. He shook his head. “That’s interesting, Admiral. Why would he have any knowledge of the crystals?”
“Apparently our prisoner told him.”
“Goddamn it, Admiral. Why the hell are we even considering what she’s telling Waterhouse? Just because his brain has probably shifted a bit south of his head doesn’t mean we have to give any credit to a prisoner’s lies. She’ll say anything to save her skin.”
The admiral moved around his desk to stand directly in front of Butchart.
“In every lie, I’ve discovered there’s a hint of truth.”
He went to his door and opened it to see if anyone was eavesdropping. All was quiet. He closed the door and returned to Butchart.
“How successful is the demonstration going to be if you’re several thousand miles away?”
Butchart looked away and remained silent.
“Damn you, Frank, you have unique powers, and you kept that valuable information from me.” He stepped close to Butchart. “Why?” he shouted, thrusting his fist up to Butchart’s face.
Butchart flinched. “Sir, if I’d told you ten years ago that I could move objects from one place to another location, or that I could transform water to wine, I know exactly what you would’ve done. You’d have fired me on the spot. You’d have never even asked for a demonstration. I even tested that ground with you. Do you remember me telling you that some people have unique powers? You laughed so hard you nearly choked!”
“Never mind that for now. If Madame finds out we’ve deceived her, we are dead! She believes our scientists are capable of unlocking secret methods that’ll allow her to command these damn rocks herself. Will she be able to do that?”
Butchart hesitated. “It’s possible, sir. But not without considerable training.”
The admiral slumped into his chair. “Well, how do you suggest we give her that good news?”
“We don’t, sir. As long as I’m present during the demonstration next week, she’ll be reasonably satisfied with her scientists. With me always accompanying you, you’ll never fail.”
“I need to know more about just who the hell you are.” The revelations were hitting the admiral too fast. He didn’t know who to trust. “Finish your immediate business then stay off the base until we can discuss this at my home office tomorrow night. Now get out!”
Butchart nearly ran to his office. He swung into his chair and focused on slowing his breathing. Activating his computer and initiating the voice scramble codes, he placed the call.
“Yes?” said the voice on the other end.
It always amazed Butchart that Madame, with all her power and wealth, answered her own calls. No go-betweens, no messengers, no second in command, no mistakes.
“Frank here. You may be receiving a call from the admiral soon. He may shut down the project. Waterhouse got him agitated.”
“And how did that happen, my dear?”
Butchart tensed. Madame was most lethal when she was being nice. “That damn prisoner on the Nonnah has knowledge about the crystals.”
“Our dear Miss Davenport, yes?”
Butchart swallowed. He hoped Madame hadn’t discovered the link between him and the prisoner. “Yes, Madame.”
“Frank, you assured me she would be executed. She has knowledge of the file and probably its contents. Therefore, she must be terminated. It’s unfortunate the pirates were unable to capture her and complete the execution. Contact Commander Moon and direct him to ensure Miss Davenport remains in solitary confinement. You’re certain he’ll refuse to carry out the execution?”
“Yes, Madame. His authority doesn’t allow it. However, Commander Moon will ensure the prisoner won’t be allowed out of her cell.”
“No problem. I’ll destroy that creature once the Nonnah arrives in New Seattle. And now Waterhouse is about to be eliminated. You keep Admiral Garland in line. Don’t disappointment me, Frank!”
Butchart mustered his courage. “Madame, perhaps we should postpone the demonstration. The scientists have had some success, but — ”
“We’ll continue as planned. Even a minor demonstration will start the process of shifting power from the global energy giants. The crystals will work for me.”
“Madame, the shift of power will be phenomenal and quick. We need to consider whether we’re prepared for the hostility that will surely erupt.”
Madame
laughed. “Yes, there will bloodshed. Quite a lot I expect.” After a brief silence, she asked, “Frank, are you keeping something from me?”
Butchart’s hands perspired. His face twitched as pain descended upon his eyes. “Just concerned for your safety, Madame.”
The comlink connection was broken.
Although Sam’s navy blue t-shirt and shorts had a small navy logo on them, he hoped to be able to melt into the crowd and be just a dad for the day. The boys and Perkins jumped into Sam’s vehicle, and sped away from the mansion to the wharf.
When the sailing tournament neared the final competitions, they looked for a better vantage point from which to view their favorite, the Storm Blazer. Grabbing their hotdogs and drinks, they found a row of seats in the dome covered bleachers and sat down. They spread themselves out, taking all available room and forcing Perkins to sit a few rows higher. To their dismay, two other men climbed up to their row and asked if they could sit beside them. Reluctantly, they shifted to make extra space and allowed the two strangers to sit down. At least it was better than having Perkins right there.
“Great day, isn’t it?” one of the men asked Sam.
Sam simply nodded, trying to discourage any further conversation.
Undaunted, the stranger continued. “Yep, great day for sailing or doing just about anything except mountain climbing — too hot. Tomorrow should be better for that. Ever try mountain climbing?”
Sam shook his head. “No.” He tried to look preoccupied with the race brochure.
“Didn’t figure so. Don’t look like the mountain climbing type. These your boys?”
Sam once again tried to discourage the talkative stranger and only replied with, “Uh huh.” He glanced back at Perkins to see if he was taking any special interest in the stranger. He was. It presented an opportunity to rankle the guard.
Sam turned his attention to the stranger. He appeared to be perhaps in his late twenties and handsome in a boyish way. Brown curly hair rested on his shoulders. His brown eyes were bright, and his direct gaze was kind yet intense.
Sam turned to his boys. “You boys like to go mountain climbing tomorrow?”
“Can’t, Dad. School tomorrow.”
“Oh yes, sorry. I forgot.” He looked back at the stranger. “Well, I tried. So you climb mountains, Mr … ?”
“Danik Davenport.” Danik presented his right hand to shake. Sam hesitated momentarily before grasping it. Danik gripped slightly longer than necessary, peering not just into Sam’s eyes, but beyond. After completing his scan, Danik grinned and shifted his hand in Sam’s, creating a friendly clutch as brothers might.
“This is my friend Ryan. And you?” Danik asked.
“Sam Waterhouse.” For the first time since joining the American Naval Academy, Sam omitted his rank. He was now, and forever more would be, only Samaru Waterhouse. “It would seem we have a mutual friend.”
“Uh huh. About that mountain climbing, I do quite a bit. But then, you probably know that by now. Some sailing, flying … ”
Sam felt drawn in to Danik’s easy manner. He glanced back to Perkins who was eyeing him suspiciously. Sam lowered his voice. “Better not provoke him.” He half-turned his head to indicate the guard. Keeping his voice down and his head pointed forward he continued talking with Danik.
“Flying? You’re a pilot?”
“Both Ryan and I fly helicopters. Rescue sailors off mountains,” he said chuckling and nudging Sam in the ribs. “We’ve got plans to go over with you later. Not to worry, Sam, I’ll find you. Have a nice day.”
Danik and Ryan got up and descended the bleachers before Sam could respond.
Aboard the Nonnah that same Sunday morning, Moon opened the door to Sidney’s cell and stepped in. She stood up immediately, sensing something was wrong.
Moon studied her face and smiled. “Remember when I told you that you were a fool not to have followed through with your escape attempt?”
Sidney frowned. “Seems to me, sir, that you said I was naïve.”
“Sidney, Sidney, I’m wondering if perhaps I’ve misjudged you.” He reached to touch her hair. She stepped back. “It’s unfortunate the captain dug so deeply into your secrets. It appears you’re about to become the hottest thing up for grabs.”
Sidney stood tall. “Can you be more precise, Commander?”
“No. Suffice it to say that you won’t be allowed to leave this room under any circumstances and no one will be allowed to enter — except for me, of course.”
She nodded. “I see. Business as usual.”
Moon scowled. “Business is about to conclude, miss.”
After getting a late morning call from Clay on Monday morning, Sam went to the café to meet him. The detective pushed the bag containing Sidney’s gloves and shoes toward him.
“Discover anything?” Sam asked.
“Interesting. Actually, fascinating, Sam. Any guesses what we found, just for the fun of it?”
“Okay, the grease on the gloves is a lubricant. Close?”
“Dead on, Sam. The shoes have a variety of material on the soles and canvas tops. Scuff marks on the side of one shoe indicates something, perhaps metal, banged away at it for a while. Can’t tell exactly what, though.”
“That’s not exactly fascinating, Clay. You got more?”
“Uh huh. Lab took a few samples from the inside of the gloves, traces of cells that had been sloughed off from the skin of the wearer. You know what they found?”
Sam sat back and considered the answer to Clay’s question. He grinned. “Pixie dust?”
“Damn near. Turned the whole lab into frenzy. Damn it all, Sam, people started asking questions about where I got the gloves. Damn scientists are all worked up and want some kind of explanation. The boss is now on my case. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
Sam looked off into the distance. “Ever watch tugboats, Clay?”
“No. Sam, focus. What’s this all about?”
“Tugboats are little boats that get big boats out of trouble. Suppose you first tell me what the lab found?”
“I think you know what the lab found. You first, sailor.”
“Okay, Clay. The lab probably found that the cells were unusually healthy and resilient, for one. For another, they’re able to maintain their integrity longer than usual without physical or environmental support. And, perhaps, they’re the most genetically perfect cells they’ve ever seen. Have I covered it?”
“Pretty much.” Clay drummed the table with his fingers. “You said her name is Sidney Davenport. Are you gonna tell me exactly who this pixie is?”
Sam laughed. “Actually, she’s no sweet little pixie. She stubborn as hell, manipulative, has little respect for authority, doesn’t live by any code of conduct that I’ve heard of. And rule, now, there’s a four letter word. And did I mention she has a temper? If you accuse her of lying — look out! Furthermore, she has this thing for picnics.”
“Picnics?”
“Yes. Two kinds.”
Clay’s eyebrows were raised. “Two kinds?”
Sam was about to respond when he became conscious that he’d just opened up a space in his heart. A space reserved for only one. A space that was now occupied by a tall slender woman with long brown hair framing a beautiful face. Pale green eyes that sparkled with vitality and an uncommon wisdom. Her smile tipped his boat over each and every time. Her power was soft yet apparently stronger than his determination to shut her out.
Clay waved his hands in front of Sam. “Hello. Anybody home?”
“Sorry, Clay. Got lost there for a second.” Sam smiled. “How can I help you straighten out this business with the lab?”
“Hell, don’t you worry about that. Been around long enough to know how to fix things. Just wanted to know who or what this creature is. Are you in any trouble — I mean, more than usual?”
Sam chuckled. “Better keep on the alert for an admiral gone over the edge.”
“Serious?”
; “Don’t go getting your gun greased up. Nothing should involve you or the police force directly. But I do intend to get full custody of my boys.”
“How?”
Sam looked at his watch. “Gotta run.” He gulped down the last of his coffee and gave Clay a thumbs up before dashing out of the café.
Once Sam was out of sight, Clay activated his comlink and waited for the response.
“Hello?” replied the man.
“Perkins, can you talk?”
“Yeah, Clay. Thought you wouldn’t call unless it was urgent.”
“Listen, Perkins, Sam’s got something up his sleeve. Looks like he’s making a move to get his kids back. Just stick close to the kids until Butchart’s ready to make his move. Clear?”
“Yes, sir. Have you seen Double D?”
“No, but no doubt he’s around. Keep your radar up, Perk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clay left the café hopeful that Sam would call later and reveal more of his plans.
23. Madness and Clarity
Afternoon, July 15, New Seattle: Sam signed in at the base and went immediately to the elevator. He didn’t have much time before he had to pick up his boys at school. He descended to the basement level, and the doors opened and he stepped out. He looked down the corridors toward the direction of the storage room and decided there was no need to follow that path again. The doors were about to close, so he stuck his foot into their path, and they reversed. The knock on his shoes jolted him mentally.
That’s it, he thought. That’s how the marks got on her shoes. But the marks indicated the doors must have banged on her shoe repeatedly, as though she needed time. Time for … Time to hide the memory rod. Instinctively, he looked up to the elevator’s ceiling. And that’s where her gloves got the grease. Lubrication from the cables. The ceiling panels were high, but Sidney could’ve sprung off the hand-hold bar to toss the panel aside and then lift herself above the ceiling.
He did as Sidney had done — took off one of his shoes and placed it in the path of the open elevator doors and climbed up to the roof of the elevator.