Pipe Dreams

by Destiny Allison

  Vanessa picked up the pack, sat on the edge of the bed, and extracted her grandfather’s knife from its worn and supple sheath. The slightly curved blade reflected the light in its mirror finish. Near the spine, intricate engravings covered both sides. The toll of years had darkened the recesses so only their surfaces gleamed silver. The decorative markings did not conceal any clues.

  Equally crafted, the polished, bone handle was almost translucent. Carefully carved notches, spaced for a man’s fingers, made it more a work of art than a tool. On both ends, bands of silver wrapped the bone in a braided pattern that complimented and offset the engravings on the blade. As he took the knife from Vanessa’s outstretched hand, McGrath felt he was touching more than a family’s legacy. He was holding the culmination of history, the fine point where man’s highest and lowest attributes merged into an ideal both aspired to and attainable. The knife embodied man’s need to kill, protect, and create, even as it spoke of beauty, love, and pride. This is what it’s supposed to look like, he thought. This is what everything should be. Reluctantly, he handed the knife back to Vanessa and suggested they return to his office.

  “Should I bring the photographs, too?” she asked.

  “You brought photographs?”

  “What else was worth taking?” She swung the pack over one slim shoulder and they returned to McGrath’s office. Michael was waiting outside the door, his expression serious. As Vanessa approached, he relaxed. He reached for her hand and she took it gratefully.

  “Colonel, I would very much appreciate it if you would let Michael join us,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s okay. Come on in, Michael,” McGrath replied. Inside the office, Lieutenant Marino stood. McGrath took a seat behind his desk while Vanessa and Michael occupied the blue upholstered chairs in front of it.

  “Why are you interested in my grandfather’s knife, Colonel?”

  “I’m not sure, Vanessa. I’m trying to put pieces of a puzzle together. May I see it?”

  Vanessa slid it across the desk. McGrath drew his reading lamp closer, angling the bulb over the sheath. He withdrew the knife and held it up in the light, admiring its grace and heft. Why was the knife so important to her family? Was it just a sentimental legacy? A treasured thing of beauty? After a few minutes, he put the knife down and picked up the sheath.

  “Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Michael asked, gesturing to the knife. His eyes shone as McGrath passed him the blade.

  “Damn! It’s somethin’ ain’t it?” Michael said. He held the soft, bone handle and feinted cutting movements in the air. Then he laid the knife blade flat on the palm of his hand, feeling its weight. After a few seconds, he set the knife back on the desk.

  “It’s gorgeous, but it ain’t a weapon, that’s for sure.”

  McGrath put down the sheath and stared at Michael. “What do you mean?”

  “The balance is wrong. The handle’s not as heavy as it should be for a blade this long. Maybe you could use it once, if you had to, but that’s it. The handle would snap after too much use. This knife’s for looks, not work.” McGrath snatched it off the desk and balanced it on his own palm. The handle was lighter than it should have been, though not by much.

  “You’re right. This knife’s for show. It’s a work of art, not a functional tool. And, from what I can see, it’s not worth much to my investigation either. There’s nothing here that gives me anything I can use. Sorry for the intrusion, Vanessa. It was worth a try.” He placed the blade in its sheath and handed it to her. She took it and was about to put it back in her pack when Michael asked to see it again. Passing it over, she looked at McGrath.

  “Do you want to see the photos?”

  “I want to see everything, Vanessa,” the colonel replied.

  She opened a zippered pocket and extracted a bundle of loose photographs in differing shapes and sizes. Some were in color, others were black and white. McGrath took them when she offered and sorted through them, setting pictures of Vanessa and her friends off to one side. Concentrating on the black and white images of Vanessa’s parents and grandparents, he flipped through smiling portraits and wedding photos. McGrath did his best to smile and nod at the images. The exercise was a waste of time. Other things needed his attention and Beth, his wife, would be upset with him for missing yet another dinner.

  As he neared the back of the stack, he spotted one that made him pause. Seven men wore sweaters with the same university insignia and made goofy faces at the camera, their arms around each other. McGrath would have passed this photo by without a second glance, but the CU emblazoned in huge letters on each of their sweaters was familiar. It stood for Cornell University, the Alma Mater of both Isaac Cohen and Vanessa’s grandfather, George Kovalic.

  “Tell me about this one, Vanessa,” McGrath said, placing the faded photograph on the desk and spinning it around for her to see.

  “The one on the left is my grandfather. He was an undergrad here. This one is Isaac.” Vanessa pointed at the image, tapping the man in the middle.

  “Who are the rest of them?”

  “I don’t know. The one next to Isaac looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

  “Try, Vanessa. It’s important.”

  He handed the picture back to her and she studied it, crinkling her brow. After a few minutes, she shook her head. As she leaned forward to place it back on the desk, Michael exclaimed loudly.

  “Look!” he said, holding up the knife handle for them to see. He pointed to the tightly woven, silver braids at the top of the handle. One of the strands was indented and a small gap had appeared between it and the strands above it.

  “Let me see that,” McGrath commanded, reaching for it. Michael passed it to him, careful to extend the handle instead of the sharp blade. McGrath took it gingerly and brought it close to his face. Then, hardly daring to breathe, he used the point of a pen to further indent the strand. The mechanism released and the top of the handle popped open, revealing a small cavity in the bone.

  McGrath looked inside. Then he poked his little finger into the hole. It didn’t fit. He picked up his pen and inserted it into the opening, dragging the tip along the inside wall. “Shit,” he cursed. “I can’t get it.”

  “What is it, Colonel?” Vanessa asked.

  “There’s something in here. I can’t get it out.”

  “May I see?” she asked, leaning forward.

  McGrath reluctantly released the knife and Vanessa took it. She held it up and looked at the contents inside the bone. Then she bent down and picked up her pack. From a side pocket, she extracted two bobby pins. She used one of them to pry a small piece of paper away from the side of the opening. Then, gripping the knife with her knees, she used both pins as a makeshift tweezers.

  “Careful,” McGrath said. Vanessa was moving at a snail’s pace, working the paper out of its tight enclosure. After a minute, she held up a tiny scroll, smaller than the circumference of a cigarette, and smiled. McGrath extended his hand, but Vanessa shook her head. “It is my legacy, Colonel. I will look at it first.”

  She set the knife down. Then she unrolled the paper and smoothed it flat against the hard surface of the desk. As she worked, another smaller paper was revealed. It had been rolled inside the first. She picked it up, squinting at the tiny letters. The words read, “Together we have fought. Together we may fall. Brothers, we are bound in faith. Remember the gifts.” The note was signed, GK.

  Vanessa studied the text, baffled. “I don’t get it,” she said, handing the slip to McGrath. As he read it, she picked up the other paper, trying to fathom its meaning. Finally, she gave up. McGrath took it from her and brought it under the light. A series of circles were connected by a string of short lines. Inside each circle was a notation so small it wasn’t legible to his naked eye. He opened his desk drawer and fumbled around inside. Extracting a magnifying glass, he held it over the strange markings, trying to make sense of them. Then it hit him. The marks on the paper were a chemical equation. At
the bottom, miniscule letters warned, “What was built can also be destroyed.”

  “My god,” McGrath whispered.

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  “It’s a formula. A chemical formula.”

  “For what?” Vanessa interjected.

  “I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s pretty important. The bigger question is why did it get passed on to you? Your grandfather never fought in a war, did he?” McGrath asked, pondering the message.

  “No. He was in school here during World War II. The Holocaust took everything from him and he couldn’t go home. By the time he got his US citizenship, he was too old to enlist.”

  “Then what does he mean ’we have fought together’?”

  “I have no idea,” she replied.

  McGrath leaned back, crossed his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. The slips of paper would be thoroughly evaluated. Chemists would be consulted about the formula. All kinds of hypotheses would be bandied about by the intelligence team and none of them might be correct. The key to all of this was right here, sitting across from him. He sat forward. Vanessa had her elbows on the desk. Her chin was in her hands, and her thick hair hung loose around her shoulders. Somewhere, locked inside that beautiful head, were the answers he needed.

  Vanessa reached out and picked up the photograph of the young men. McGrath said nothing, not wanting to distract her while she studied their faces. She frowned, then put it back on the desk and pushed it away from her. Finally she spoke. “I’m not completely certain, and I hope to god I’m wrong, but the man that looked familiar, the one next to Isaac, looks a little like Harry Rose.”

  CHAPTER 46

  When the SEAL team reconvened in the cell’s basement home, CoCo was conflicted. A communiqué from the base had instructed them to proceed to new coordinates, but the information he had obtained from Ashley made following the orders difficult. Though she hadn’t been able to identify Lewis’ building on the street map, her information was the best they had yet. He wasn’t prepared to abandon that target.

  The men in the infirmary compounded the problems. CoCo was reasonably sure Ashley would continue to cooperate as long as her friend was receiving care, but he didn’t have the manpower or resources to help for long. The savage was a non-issue. CoCo didn’t care if he lived or died. However, he couldn’t be allowed to return to wherever he came from and the team wasn’t equipped for prisoners.

  CoCo’s men made preliminary plans to move. They had been given coordinates for a manufacturing plant on the far side of the city. Finding an effective route was no small feat. They needed to move quickly and remain out of sight. The sewers provided the best option, but one junction would be difficult to navigate. They would either have to circumvent it, adding unnecessary time to their journey, or they would have to surface and risk detection on the streets. The subject was hotly contested.

  Instead of waiting to hear the outcome of the discussion, CoCo went to check with his medic. Much of what happened next depended on the state of Derek’s patients. As he approached the infirmary, he slowed his steps so as not to disturb anyone. Pulling open the white sheet, he slipped his head inside. Derek and Ashley were napping. CoCo approached and tapped the medic on his arm. Instantly, Derek woke.

  “How’s it going?” CoCo whispered.

  “Touch and go. His fever’s down, but his breathing’s worse.” Derek stood, stretched, and moved to the bed to check Jeremy’s vitals. “If I could get him out of here and get him on a respirator, he’d recover. As it is, I just don’t know.”

  “And the other one?” CoCo asked.

  “Him? He’s a piece of shit. I’m keeping him under to shut him up, but my sedatives are going fast. It’s a good thing I’m a nice guy. Some people deserve what they get. Know what I mean?”

  CoCo nodded, pursing his lips. His eyes dropped to Ashley. She was curled under a blanket. Her head tilted to one side and a thin line of drool dribbled from the corner of her mouth. CoCo winced, imagining the sore neck she would have later. All the toughness she exhibited when awake was lost in the abandon of sleep. Soft, bruised, and vulnerable, Ashley looked like the child she was.

  “So what’s the plan?” Derek asked.

  “Don’t know yet. We’ve been given new coordinates. The team’s getting ready to move. Christ, if we weren’t short I’d be inclined to let you stay here, but you’re the only medic we’ve got. You’ve got to come with us.”

  “He’s do for another dose of morphine soon, Commander. I’m no expert at Tetanus, but he’s been on antibiotics long enough that it might be safe to let him come out of sedation. That would help his breathing. If his spasms diminish, it might be okay to leave him. I’d like to see what happens. Can you give me an hour?”

  “Yeah. We won’t be ready to move until then anyway,” Coco said.

  “What about the other one? What do you want to do with him?”

  “Save the meds. Gag him if you have to and keep him in restraints. We’re not taking prisoners and he definitely qualifies as a hostile, but I don’t want to do anything until the girl is out of here. She’s seen enough,” CoCo replied.

  He was leaving the infirmary when Derek exclaimed, “Oh, shit!” CoCo spun around and crossed the room, oblivious to the clump of his boots on the cement floor. Ashley woke and jumped to the side of the bed. Derek bent over, his ear on Jeremy’s chest. “He’s stopped breathing,” he said ripping away the blankets covering his patient.

  Ashley was frozen. White knuckled, she gripped the edge of the bed. Tears spilled from her eyes as Derek performed CPR. Jeremy’s sternum cracked like a rifle, but the medic didn’t relent. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled himself upright and let out a staggered breath. Flush-faced and slack-jawed, his glazed eyes moved back and forth between Ashley and the commander. Then he sadly shook his head.

  “He’s gone. There’s nothing more I can do. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, no,” Ashley whispered. She touched Jeremy’s face. Then she picked up his thin hand, held it to her lips, and kissed it. Setting it back down, she stroked it. Finally, she fled. CoCo pulled the blankets over Jeremy’s face and followed her, his heart heavy. The man’s death meant nothing to him personally, but he felt for the girl.

  Ashley sprinted down the hall and through the living room. CoCo caught her as reached the basement door. She struggled against him, fighting hard to escape, but he held her tight. After a few minutes she relaxed in his arms and he turned her around, pulling her close.

  “I’m sorry, girl. I’m really sorry,” he said. As small and fragile as a bird in his embrace, he worried she would break if he squeezed too tight. When she pushed him away, he was surprised.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  CoCo stepped back, cautiously. As much as he ached for her, Ashley was a risk to the team. He couldn’t allow her to leave, but as he released her, she abandoned her flight. She stared up at him, her chest heaving and her eyes bright.

  “I can’t find the building on the map, but I can show you where it is,” she said. “The bastards aren’t going to get away with this. I owe him that much.” She paused and then continued in a low voice, “No, I owe him everything.”

  CoCo put his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes glittered dangerously. Though her mouth trembled slightly at the corners, she didn’t flinch at his gaze or stiffen under his touch. “Girl, you amaze me,” he whispered. When she did not respond, he read the determination on her face. Curling his lips into a faint smile, he nodded. “Okay, Ashley. Welcome to the team.”

  In the kitchen, the men gathered around the stainless steel counter. CoCo got down to business.

  “Did you figure out a route?” he asked. Malone pointed to the map.

  “There’s no way to get through this intersection safely. It’s too narrow and we run the risk of getting snarled up. We’ll surface at this manhole. It’s not perfect, but it’s not on a main street and it’s close to an alley we can use to get us back
into the pipes over here.” Malone’s fingers tapped different marks on the laminated paper.

  “That works. We’ll split at the same place. A small team will accompany Ashley. The rest of us will proceed to the plant. Malone, do you have any intel on the building itself? Do we know how it’s laid out?” CoCo asked.

  “Satellite imagery shows a wall all the way around it. Looks like there are two wings off a main building. There’s a drainage pipe we can get to that goes under the building and empties into the lake on the other side. The drainage pipe surfaces here,” Malone said, indicating a spot inside the western wing of the plant.

  “What’s there? Do you know?”

  “We’re not positive, but given its scale and proximity to the gates, best guess is a truck bay. See the doors here?” Malone gestured at his small computer screen. The picture was sharp. A row of six gigantic rollup doors lined the west wall of the plant and oil stains were visible on the concrete pad in front of them.

  “Okay. Good enough to start. Ashley, your turn. Tell the guys everything you can remember about Lewis and where he lives. Don’t skip anything. I want every detail,” CoCo said.

  Ashley had been following the conversation with interest. When he mentioned her by name, she glanced at the other men, launched into a description of Lewis and his chauffeur, and then retold the story of her escape. As she finished, CoCo put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Good job, girl. You’d make a hell of a SEAL.”

  “No offense, but what are you going to do when you find him?” she asked. CoCo’s face was grim.

  “Whatever’s necessary to get what we’re after.”

  “And then?”

  “Ashley, I think I’ll leave that up to you.”

  The team made final preparations for their departure, checking weapons, repacking supplies, and tending personal. CoCo pulled Derek aside.

  “We need to deal with your other patient.”