* * *
As it was programmed, Pablo’s angry Satellite ran a destruction scenario and came up with best burst point to collect the most kills. Its thrusters had sent it on just that path and as it moved to within seventy-five miles of the Rodina II, it happened. With perfect precision the missile launched and covered the distance in less than thirty seconds.
Unfortunately, the Killer Satellite was able to pick up the missile upon its launch and started to overload the battery to set off its EMP protection, but its defense systems analyzed it didn’t have time for that move.
Unbeknownst to the attackers, the target had more than one way to protect itself. Based on the Tesla Energy Ray, Pablo was able to loop an energy field using James ingenious battery design. The result was a ray capable of disrupting and destroying any object. If Pablo trained the ray on an object and overloaded the battery, the burst could conceivably destroy a small city.
To disable a missile, though, the ray was used on its normal setting. Once the ray locked on, the circuitry of the missile was destroyed in seconds. The now free-flying rocket missed badly, veered to the left several miles past the target, and blew up harmlessly in the dead of space, a sight only for telescope enthusiasts. Three minutes later there was a massive pulse and seven more satellites were gone, including the CIA’s main South American satellite.
Pablo looked at the screen. The data showed that the missile shot came from Space; maybe his American friends have missiles up in space when they said they didn’t. Of course the Russians never abided by any of the rules, either, thus the backpack nuke he bought. No matter. I will teach them both. Just in case it was Russia. He looked at Felipe, “Have our friends play the game. Spare only the Bush.” He put his head in his hands and said, “They were warned.”
Felipe turned to leave and looked back at Matt with serious concern, “You come with me.”
“Sure,” was Matt’s reply and he was moving. They got into the elevator and Felipe placed a key in it. He pushed a button to a floor Matt had never been to, and they stepped out onto level B-4. And now for sure Matt could feel what it was like to be on the wrong side of the air vents.
As they got off, there was a dead end wall directly on the left. Turning to the right there was a corridor leading to a long hallway with white tiles and extremely bright fluorescent overhead lights. The hallway had a very sterile feel to it, much like hospital corridor. They came to the first door. It had a window and when Matt looked inside he could see what looked like a modified squash court, and from his angle he could see a super comfortable looking recliner chair positioned in the middle and facing the front wall. He could see a tattooed man who looked a lot like Felipe sitting there, a small console at his hands. These are the rooms I saw on the monitors Pablo controlled, the rooms that would soon be poisoned.
Felipe buzzed the button on the intercom outside the room, the chair turned and Sergio acknowledged him without a word. What’s up with that? Felipe ordered him in a way that showed he didn’t appreciate Sergio’s lack of respect. “We’re to destroy the ships, be prepared. Get them prepared.”
Sergio looked at him and said, “We’re always prepared.” He looked puzzled though, “Even the big ship?”
“No, it will be the only one spared.”
For the first time Matt saw it. He had been looking at an angle, and now that he shifted his position he could see that Sergio’s far wall was one super giant high definition screen. It was split into a four-way picture showing Matt four different perspectives. He noted one was a cartoon version. One of the squares was highlighted and bigger than the other three, which obviously was the main screen being operated.
Apparently these perspectives were from the fish he’d heard about. Matt looked at the four small screens and surmised that each fish had a different type of vision. The upper right showed simulated video topography of the ocean floor, while the lower right showed infrared. Matt noted the big glow of the Bush’s reactors on the far left of the infrared screen. The bottom left was what looked like a green outline matrix of the carrier group, and lastly, the screen that Sergio was controlling was live video. Sergio’s fish was currently looking at the carrier group. Matt observed that Sergio was slowly drifting his fish toward the carrier group.
Lord, Matt thought, they’re sitting ducks! But I’m a dead duck too if I push that button. Then he had a very bad thought, my remote won’t work down here. Felipe walked all the way down, checking every door’s window and giving a thumbs-up to each operator.
At the end of the long hallway Felipe knocked on the last door and João spun around in his chair. Matt remembered João from the golf cart ride his first night, since then they had had many meetings. Felipe gave him the two fingers in the eyes thing. Then those fingers back at him while mouthing the words, “Estou de olho em voce,”
Matt noticed they spoke in their native language of Portuguese. “I’m watching you.” That was a little out of character, as those two were best friends, thought Matt. I wonder what’s up with that? Then he and Felipe were headed back to the elevator, much to Matt’s relief.
* * *
João watched as they left his window. He’s watching me? Who the hell does he think he is? Like he don’t get high? Now that Felipe is next to Pablo all the time, he’s changed. This wasn’t supposed to be a religious event for us. We don’t believe in God. What God? The God that put Felipe on the streets at nine and me the next year at the same age? Parents too poor to even know or care I was gone? The God that was watching out for us as we ate out of restaurant trash cans and wiped our culos with any paper we could find. No, this is about partying and playing the game to me. Felipe knows that. First Felipe put the rule of no getting high in my work area, now he’s saying no getting high even before work! Fuck that!
João’s was the last room in the long white corridor, and it wasn’t alarmed. It didn’t even have a lock. None of the doors in the whole place had locks, except the stairwells. The elevator was the only way down and only two people had the key that he knew of. The rules were simple, never go into someone else’s room and never go into the stairwell, as you will have to climb all the way up to get out.
Once the Chinese workers were gone, the place only housed the Ants. So in about two minutes, when that Puto leaves, I’m going to get stoned before I play. It’s the only way. He’s got his eyes on me? Who is Felipe kidding? They got their first street tattoos together, lost their virginity together, and they will most likely die together. So it’s pointless for him to act like he’s different or better than his best friend, as we don’t have any walls between us. We’re both killers. So no matter what the “Sheep” says, Felipe will never change, and he should stop pretending. He can’t change, as it’s the same with me. He’s a killer in his heart.
João smelled the fresh scent of the cannabis joint in his top pocket and it was calling to him to get on it so he could really enjoy the game. He went to his window and looked out. He saw Matt and Felipe leaving down the hall. Go traitor, I’ll deal with you later. João went back to his chair and looked at the screen thinking, it won’t be long.
* * *
“Are you comfortable, Hon?”
“Yes I’m comfortable. Stop hovering, woman, you’re driving me crazy.” Jan was in the living room watching yesterday’s Giants game from Don Hurst’s DVR. The league decided to cancel today’s games, as the world was no longer paying half-attention. America had been attacked again.
Jan loved the Giants, and it was something she and Don Hurst always had in common, his own son being a Cross-Bay Oakland A’s fan. Jan mused that they caused the ‘89 earthquake with all their inter-league bickering. Of course, Matt was just a kid then and the A’s were his first Little League Team. “That Zito sucks,” Don shouted at the TV. “The A’s gave him to us to sabotage us.” The Giants were currently losing 5-2 to the hated Dodgers and that always put Don in a bad mood. Jan grew up a huge Giants fan, too, and of course her dad always had season tickets.
Her best friend in high school was Susan Sinclair, and the two of them were so cute in their little Giants get-ups. Their hair in ponytails and looped through the hat, wearing cute button up jerseys. We were absolute man magnets, taking phone numbers from guys way older than they were and way more married. We were such flirts. Jan remembered how straight and nice her hair used to be then.
As the game continued, Zito just got rocked for a two run bomb and he was pulled, which of course got him the moniker “Bum,” from Don.
Sherry walked in, “Don, I’m not going to tell you again. The doctor told you to stop getting worked up over sports.”
“Oh woman, if it’s my destiny to die watching sports, then I would say that’s not a bad way to go.” Sherry Hurst realized that it was pointless and retreated to her burning dinner.
They both jumped at the blood-curdling scream as she went into the kitchen. She always over-exaggerated every situation, if Jan was to go running in there, she would find a pot boiled over and nothing more. The scream was always “five alarm fire,” regardless of the situation.
Jan mused to herself I absolutely love these guys. Things look to be heating up in the real world and they had just turned the news off for a break. They’d been glued to it for three days straight, with Jan only going back home to get her and Jon Jon’s clothes and toiletries. She was staying in Matt’s room now.
Sherry had made the room into a shrine to her son’s achievements. It felt so good to be in this place, and with his memorabilia all around her, Jan felt very close to Matt and safer somehow. She worried she would never leave though. And what happens if he doesn’t want me anymore, what then?
The questions and doubt never stopped coming. Jan was forced to see the woman that abducted Matt in the news seemingly every ten seconds ever since this had begun. The woman her Matt had been with these past two years was a “world class” beauty, and although Jan was no Rosie O’Donnell, she was no Nancy Chavez either.
There had also been another development. Don Hurst suddenly wanted to live. Although the prostate cancer had spread due to his refusal to react to the early warning signs, it was hardly a death sentence in this day and age. Attitude was a big part of recovery and he wanted to see his son again. Jan looked at Don and spoke, and intuitively he knew she wasn’t talking baseball, “So what’s your gut tell you, Don?”
He paused the TV, “I think if my son has lived this long, then he’s not going to be killed by his captors. If Matt has had two years to make a plan, then you can bet your last dollar it’s going to be a something special. One time that boy took all summer to build a model of the USS Hornet. He did this because he wanted to blow it up. So he fused a bunch of strategic firecrackers around it and blew it to pieces.
“At first I just thought he was being a crazy teenager, but when he did the demolition, it went off perfectly. Having built it, he knew its weaknesses. I know it’s a silly reference, but he’s done this his whole life. He was a C student unless he felt passion. When he did, he quickly became an A student.”
Jan was sure that was her take on it, too. She’d seen Matt do the same thing, often accusing him of being an underachiever for it. She just wanted to hear Don say it, too. Who knew his boy better than his dad? According to Matt, Don was the best dad to have growing up, all encouragement and lots of participation.
Jan started crying again and all the guilt washed over her. She had been so bitchy to Matt the last few months, as she was trying to break him, trying to get him to fail so she could run back to her father. The whole time, her dad was in her ear, telling her that he knew all along that Matt was no good. And I actually allowed him to have his way.
In typical fashion, her father spent the next year making sure she didn’t have to face any of it. Although she blamed him for all her problems, no one was able to convince her that Matt was bad. Now that Ray Callahan had set things straight, she couldn’t be around her dad anymore. Joey Malello only heard what he wanted to hear. He never would have allowed her to move in with Matt’s parents and he never would have believed this story.
At six foot four and three hundred and forty pounds, he felt he could bulldog his way through life, but he couldn’t bulldog his way through Mom’s breast cancer and he can’t bulldog his way through this. Jan knew her dad never accepted Matt, first, he wasn’t Italian and second because Matt took her away and left him alone. He’d never admit it, but he’d resented her for growing up, as no boy she ever took home was good enough. So she left a note, like so many girls have done to their overbearing fathers.
Jan looked at Don on the couch and he didn’t look like a dying man anymore. I sure hope he lives, as it would absolutely kill Matt if he never gets to see his father alive again. He might never get over it. All they could do was watch and wait, just like the rest of the world. Don un-paused the game and the Dodgers were batting in the 4th.
* * *
This time it was ringing the other way, and Miroslav answered on the Russian side, “Mr. President.”
“It seems our opponent is better prepared than we are, Miroslav. What would our non-nuclear options be now?”
His reply was thickly accented in Russian, “I don’t know that any exist. What do you have up there?” And there it was, Lawrence thought, just like Kim predicted. They’d exposed themselves and even though it was a failed attempt, they’d want the quid pro quo. That lady is never wrong. Miroslav continued, “We see you lost a valuable communications satellite with the last blast.” Of course, that was a jab at Eric Barnett, as all knew it was a CIA satellite.
“Miroslav, let me ask you, we see you and your neighbors to the East are next, have you heard from them?”
“No, and we don’t expect to, but Mr. President. Lawrence. If we’re going to be friends, then we must agree that friends don’t skirt direct questions from one another.”
And it was born; the first true friendship to come out of the two countries in a long time. President Caulfield’s next sentence horrified everyone in the room, “We have a cold fission laser in the California Mountains.” He raised his hand to stop any interruptions. “It’s functional, but not tested. Half the mirrors are up under different guises, mostly communications.”
“I see,” was the reply. “Can it reach the Satellite?”
The President responded, “We believe after its next assault it will be in range.”
“Is that what you believe too, General Hatten? Or can you get it now?”
It was understood by everyone in both rooms who was in the audience on both sides, and General Steve Hatten answered the Russian President, “We wouldn’t do that after you showed good will. It’s out of range. Unfortunately, we were building the relay in the other direction.”
“I see,” was the understanding reply.
Apparently the implications of that didn’t take long to sink in, thought Hatten. The General continued to address the Russian President, “We would have to let it strike again and then we can get it.”
“Then maybe it really is time we consider ‘our’ nuclear options,” stoically replied the Russian President.
President Caulfield added, “We thought about that, Miroslav. You guys might have saved us from more than you know, as we have mirror relays, maybe the next surprise is they do too.”
The Russian leader asked in alarm, “Are you suggesting they can reach our silos?”
“We’re suggesting they can possibly reach ours. We don’t know about yours. One thing is for sure, our analysts say Pablo Manuel has been one up on us all the way and if we were them we’d have a second mirrored satellite up, so he probably does, too.”
The Russian President thought and said, “Perhaps we better find out how many satellites this Tanjotti has up.”
“We already have that information, Miroslav, they have six up. Two over Europe, one over South America and two over the U.S.” President Caulfield knew the Russians already had this information as well. It was just the way the game was played. Never show y
our hand. But they had the chance to change some things here and he sure hoped the Russians grabbed the olive branch. President Caulfield continued, “Of course, we’re all familiar with their sixth satellite, as it is making friends everywhere it goes.”
Miroslav admitted, “We see what you’re saying. It seems they’re baiting both of us for such a move. Maybe we did save you after all—and ourselves.”
“Well, our analysts concur, and for your edification, the fueling of the rocket was subterfuge. We’ll try the laser, but if it fails, we launch from a sub under the Arctic, it’s the only safe place.
“That is not a bad plan, Lawrence.”
“We also noticed the position of one of your attack subs has recently taken a warmer route than usual, so this must have occurred to you too by now, it appears.”
“It is true Lawrence, soon we will be able to fire at will.”
“Understood, Miroslav, like us, you will ultimately decide if that move is a wise one. The nuclear option is always a last resort. You have only fifty minutes our people tell us.”
“We’ll let you know,” was the Russian President’s understandably apprehensive reply. “Lawrence, if we decide to use our nuclear capabilities, you will be the first to know.”
“The same courtesy will be extended to you, Miroslav.”
* * *
When Matt and Felipe got back, Matt observed Pablo again sliding over to one of the computers. It’s the one he’s gone to several times now when he wants satellite data. Whatever the code is, it’s just three keys. That’s all Matt had heard the few times Pablo had unlocked it. Obviously, its there as a basic lock, not to keep out hackers, Matt thought.
Matt had a hunch what those three letters might be, as “God” had three letters. He’d also noticed a difference in Pablo now that the action had started. He was showing different emotions than Matt had ever seen him have. Actually, the fact he was showing any emotion at all other than confidence was what intrigued Matt currently.
And the Meek Shall Inherit (Harbinger of Change Book 2) Page 13