Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project

by Douglas, Daniel P.

  Holcomb scrambled over to the exposed skull and joined Harrison in scratching away the dried earth surrounding it. Gently, once enough of the skull had revealed itself to them, Harrison peeled and lifted it away from the ground. Holcomb grabbed one of the garbage bags, and Harrison placed it inside. They double-wrapped their evidence with the other bag.

  Harrison’s digging had managed to reveal some of Blair’s skeleton. He hated to do it, but he took one last photograph of the scene. “All right, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Hearts pounding, they collected their equipment and piled it into the rucksack. While Harrison put the rucksack on his back and grabbed the garbage bag, Holcomb laid some scrub brush over the grave and pushed some dirt into it. He checked their surroundings but found no sign of the patrol he had seen a short time ago.

  “Which way out of here?” Harrison said.

  Holcomb checked the GPS receiver’s compass and got a general heading back to the “car” waypoint. “We go that way,” Holcomb said.

  Harrison handed his former partner the evidence, and they both headed toward the car, Holcomb leading the way.

  They hurried together in silence, listening and watching for any sign of the patrol. Thirty minutes into their rushed escape, Holcomb stopped and turned to face the direction of Blair’s grave. “Keep walking—I’ll watch for a minute and catch up to you.”

  Harrison wheezed and coughed his way past Holcomb. Mumbling, he said, “I really have to quit smoking.”

  Holcomb watched the terrain but saw nothing. From where he sat, squatting behind a mound of rocks and dirt, the scene appeared clear. After a few minutes, he stood up and turned to run toward Harrison.

  A bright flash across the sky knocked him off balance, and he fell down, clutching his face and the goggles. He removed the goggles and winced in pain. As he lay on the ground trying to recover from the flash, Holcomb heard a strange noise, something like low humming. Confused, he blinked, sat up, and looked around. He saw a faint light in the distance, in the direction of Major Blair’s grave. It appeared to be on the ground.

  The low humming continued, but Holcomb could not discern its origin. He spun around, searching for anything that would explain its source, but there was nothing. Wherever it came from, it was far away, and he felt it more than he heard it. It vibrated through him, wavelike.

  Lights on the ground ahead of him flickered, so he put the night-vision goggles back on and looked in their direction. The lights moved methodically, side to side.

  They’re searching.

  Holcomb jerked around and ran toward the barely visible lone hill in the distance. He ran as hard as he could across the desert floor and caught up with Harrison. “Old friend, we really have to get out of here.”

  Nearly out of breath, Harrison said, “What the hell is that noise?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And that light. You see it? It moved so fast.”

  “Frankly, I’m more concerned about that patrol on its way.”

  Harrison continued to breathe heavily. “How far away?”

  “I think near our grave robbing.” Holcomb felt himself tiring. His speech slowed, and he paused after each word or two. “Won’t take them long to pick up our trail.”

  Harrison took the car keys out of his pants pocket and handed them to Holcomb.

  At first, Holcomb refused to accept them.

  “Take them,” Harrison insisted. “When we get close enough, I want you to run ahead and get the fence open and the car ready to go. You drive.”

  “Understood,” Holcomb said, taking the keys. He looked at the lone hill ahead of them again. “Can you see our benchmark hill in the distance?”

  Harrison squinted. He saw their destination and wished they were closer to it. “I got it, yeah.”

  “Whatever happens, just keep heading for that hill.”

  Harrison panted and coughed. “Roger that.”

  A fast-moving, bright streak of light passed overhead.

  “Shit!” Holcomb said, ripping off the goggles. “This has just got to stop.” He held his eyes and rocked back and forth. When Harrison reached down and put his hand on Holcomb’s shoulder, his former partner said, “Keep moving—I’ll catch up.”

  Harrison said nothing and withdrew his hand. He continued moving toward the hill, baffled by the intense—yet vaguely familiar—light that passed overhead and the nonstop low humming vibrating through his body.

  Holcomb rose to his knees and put the goggles back on. The humming abruptly subsided, growing fainter and more distant with every passing second. After standing, he searched for the patrol’s lights again. It did not take him long to spot it bouncing and hobbling their way. Opting not to ponder the distance to the patrol, he turned around and started to run.

  After catching up to an exhausted Harrison again, Holcomb looked at the hill in the distance, and then back to his former partner. “Almost there—how you holding up?”

  Harrison laughed and sucked air in and out as fast as he could. “Been better.”

  “About a half mile or so to go.”

  “You’ve got the skull and the keys, make a break for it now.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Just shut up and go.”

  Holcomb looked back at the lights of the patrol vehicle he knew was closing the distance.

  “Do it,” Harrison said.

  Without saying anything, Holcomb stopped, put the skull down, and then grabbed Harrison by the shoulders. He snatched the rucksack from Harrison’s back and threw it onto his own, after which he retrieved the skull and started running.

  Gaining some relief without the pack, Harrison felt a renewed sense of energy. He started a slow jog toward the lone hill, but soon lost sight of his partner.

  <> <>

  Holcomb finally reached the fence line near the car. His chest heaved under deep breaths as he struggled to find the hole in the fence where Harrison had cut into it earlier. Less than a minute later, Holcomb found the hole. He dropped the rucksack from his shoulders and grabbed the wire cutters from inside it. Cutting the wire even more, he managed to expand the radius of the hole to the point where a car could drive through it. Smiling now, Holcomb retrieved the pack and skull and ran toward Harrison’s Dodge Charger. He put the gear and evidence in the trunk, slammed it shut, and turned around.

  Then, he froze.

  A man he did not recognize stood a few feet away and aimed a handgun at his chest. The man spoke, and his words nearly sent Holcomb into shock.

  “Where’s Harrison?”

  <> <>

  Harrison stumbled and fell. Not far away, he could see the lone hill glowing under the faint moonlight. He struggled to his feet, only to feel defeated once he stood. The sound of vehicles approached him, closing the gap. Ignoring the prospect of impending capture, he started running toward the hill again.

  The sound of the engine from one of the vehicles seemed different from what he expected. This was no Humvee, which was the type of vehicle Harrison expected to drive right up behind and over him in due course. This other vehicle’s engine noise was higher pitched, and it emanated from ahead of him, just behind the next dune.

  Harrison stopped. Headlights approached him from two different directions now. Instinctively, he put his hand on the Colt .45 resting in the holster on his hip. The vehicle’s sound that came from directly ahead finally registered with him. A motorcycle? He took his hand off the gun.

  The Suzuki Intruder appeared out of the darkness. Its rider drove straight at him, sliding to a stop in the sand a few feet away. The rider ripped off his helmet and tossed it to Harrison. “Get on,” he said.

  Not choosing to argue, Harrison pulled the helmet on and then straddled the seat behind the driver—Nick Ridley.

  “Hang on!” Ridley gunned the engine and sped toward the fence line.

  Ridley and Harrison did not hear the staccato buzzing sound of bullets flying near their heads and bodies, but both soon realized the
patrol vehicle behind them was firing on them. Puffs of sand and dirt erupted around and ahead of them, a sure sign of bullets coming at them. Harrison tightened his grip, and Ridley twisted the accelerator hard.

  Harrison peered around Ridley’s shoulders and discerned the fast-approaching fence line. The chain-link barrier grew ever closer, and Harrison expected, and hoped, Ridley would slow down. “Uh, uh…”

  “Hang on and duck!” Ridley said.

  Harrison barely had enough time to comply with Ridley’s instructions. He closed his eyes and braced for a rough, high-speed impact with the fence.

  The motorcycle shot through the larger opening Holcomb had cut earlier.

  Instantly relieved and confused, Harrison opened his eyes. He and Ridley were through the fence and in a controlled slide onto the gravel and dirt road near the Dodge Charger.

  As Ridley and Harrison shot past, Holcomb pressed down hard on the Dodge’s accelerator. Metal tapping sounds from bullets striking the car made Holcomb hunch down. He swerved back and forth across the road, hoping for the best.

  Harrison squeezed Ridley tighter. He never thought he would ever need a motorcycle cop for anything, but Ridley was a welcome surprise.

  Behind them, Holcomb raced to keep up.

  <> <>

  The speakers on a console inside Dreamland’s security control center crackled with an update from a patrol unit. “Trespassers have now exited the property at high speed. What are your orders?”

  Colonel Samuel Ritter heard the radio transmission and responded by asking the patrol to call him in the security control center. A few seconds later, Ritter picked up the receiver from the ringing telephone next to him. “Yes, I understand, confirm you are near the Ranch Annex.” Ritter paused, and then nodded. “A dark sedan and a motorcycle, understood. Have all units return to base.” He glanced around at the preoccupied staff. “Yes, return to base. We will pursue the matter through other means.”

  Ritter hung up the phone and reached for his coffee mug, but stopped. Instead, he grabbed the hat sitting on the corner of his desk. He put it on, and it felt good. The Colorado Rockies ball cap was one of his favorites. Looking around the control center, he pulled the brim down until it was tight and low across his forehead. Beneath it, a shadow covered his face. A brief smile emerged, and then he yawned, hoping he would get a good night’s sleep very soon.

  Chapter 26

  The Truth Will Come Out

  The sunrise over Las Vegas illuminated the city and loosened the night’s frigid grip on Harrison and Ridley. As they approached the city limits, Ridley pulled over and stopped the Suzuki in a deserted parking lot at an office complex. After stopping, Harrison still clung to Ridley, too cold and too stiff to move.

  Ridley leaned forward and put both of his feet on the ground. “You can let go of me now.”

  Harrison slowly and methodically relaxed his grasp and unseated himself from the motorcycle. His aching hip and chilled body made every step difficult. After managing to stand mostly upright, he removed the helmet and handed it back to Ridley, who took it from him with a jerk. Harrison and Ridley narrowed their eyes at each other until Holcomb interrupted their reproachful stares when he pulled the Dodge Charger in behind them and parked. After getting their attention, Holcomb waved and grinned at them from behind the steering wheel. He gave them two thumbs up.

  Harrison flashed Holcomb a thumbs up and turned back to Ridley. “Thanks for saving my ass back there.”

  Ridley turned off the motorcycle’s ignition, flipped the kickstand into place, got off the bike, and then proceeded to inspect it for damage.

  Harrison shook his head and waddled with bowed legs toward Holcomb.

  Holcomb finished lighting up one of Harrison’s cigarettes and stepped out of the car. “Hey, guys—”

  “Art, you got my car shot up,” Harrison said, noticing two bullet holes in the right rear fender. He waddled farther around the car’s rear end, where he saw more holes in the trunk. Holcomb and Ridley joined Harrison behind the car, where they saw the damage for themselves.

  After a few seconds of silence, Holcomb said, “Well, this is awkward.” He looked left, then right, and said, “I gotta pee.”

  Harrison said, “I take it you two have met?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve met junior here,” Holcomb said. “Seems nice enough, even though we got off to a rocky start.” Holcomb paused and leaned toward Harrison like a tattler, and said, “He pointed his gun at me, Bill.”

  “I took your advice and checked you out. I followed you guys. From the Sundowner, to Sears, then out there,” Ridley said, pointing into the distance. “I never imagined you’d be stupid enough to go on some hike into the desert, especially when that desert is government property.”

  In an even, matter-of-fact tone, Harrison said, “We had a lead to follow.”

  “Must be an incredibly important lead,” Ridley said. “Does it have anything to do with what’s in the trunk?”

  Harrison glanced at Holcomb. “You put it in there?”

  Holcomb nodded.

  “Yes, it does,” Harrison said, turning back to Ridley. “But my gut feeling at this point is that the less you know, the better.”

  “Better for whom?” Ridley said.

  “For you,” Harrison said. “For your own safety.”

  “I just saved your ass, Mr. Harrison. I think you owe me a little more than that.”

  “If we told you, you might run the risk of ending up as a bag of bones in the trunk of a car somewhere,” Holcomb said, interrupting.

  Harrison furrowed his brow at Holcomb, and then turned to Ridley. “Look, you saved my life out there. That’s why it would be wrong for me to jeopardize your life by telling you more.”

  Ridley thought of his dead brother-in-law, Eric. Despite wanting to know more, he decided to trust Harrison. “We’ll go with your instincts for now. But I’m a cop, so I just don’t sit on the sidelines.”

  “Understood,” Harrison said. He wanted to be honest with Ridley, but after finding the remains of a body where Echo Tango had specified, he grasped more than ever that a definite and serious threat existed. Harrison put his hand on Ridley’s shoulder. “The truth will come out, and you’ve helped with that.”

  “I’m glad we have that all cleared up,” Holcomb said. “But now we should consider the possibility the base authorities could identify us from that little incident back there.” He peered up the road from where they had just traveled. “Seems odd, though, that we weren’t intercepted on the highway. Maybe that’s something you can check for us, Ridley?”

  “I can see if the military has advised the department. I’ll be discreet.”

  Harrison rubbed his leg and sighed heavily. “Art, we need to get back to Tucson and sort out the next steps in the investigation. But first, let’s get checked out of the hotel.”

  “Good. I didn’t like that dump anyway.”

  Chapter 27

  More Tests

  The loud knock on the door of Janice’s quarters did not wake her. A sleepless night had left her sitting motionless on her bed for what seemed like hours. Now, she wished the interloper would simply go away.

  “Evans, Janice B.”

  Why is she here?

  Dr. Schmidt’s rapping invaded Janice’s only refuge, and chipped away her hope of having any solitude. There were no tests scheduled for today, Sunday, so confusion now contributed to her already anxious and depressed state of mind. Janice wanted nothing to do with any more poking or prodding; Saint Mary had jabbed her enough in the last few days.

  “Janice!”

  The sound of jangling keys made Janice drop her head. She spied an orange within reach on the foot of her bed. After lifting it, she dug a fingertip into the navel.

  Dr. Schmidt turned the knob.

  “I was just getting some breakfast.”

  “We have work to do,” Dr. Schmidt said, making a swift entrance into the room. She halted after only a step or two. “No!” The d
oor swung open farther, revealing the bright hallway behind it. The doctor had not arrived alone. “Give me that orange. You mustn’t eat.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Janice took a deep breath. It helped her to form a kind smile. “Perhaps the nice airman would like it?” The guard merely continued to stare at the back of Schmidt’s head. Janice realized that she could easily scan or control him. She could tell him things that would defy not only his security clearance, but also his entire understanding of life itself.

  She could tell him the truth.

  Tightening her grip on the orange, her soft fingers compressed it until she could feel it giving way to the pressure. Janice looked at Schmidt’s outstretched pale hand. It was steady, so full of purpose, the pallid lifelessness of mechanized discipline. A slightly tighter grip could crush the orange. Its thin peel began to collapse.

  “Now, Janice! Give it to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Janice relaxed and passed the orange to Schmidt. “I wasn’t very hungry right now, anyway. Later though.” Then, folding her arms, she said, “Has there been a change in schedule?”

  Schmidt dropped the orange into a pocket of her white lab coat. She removed a pen and raised her clipboard. Instead of glancing between her notes and Janice, she took a small step forward and gestured for the airman to enter. He moved slowly into the room.

  “You have more tests,” Schmidt said, without looking up. “Now, come. There are people waiting. Any respiratory or nasal congestion this morning?”

  Janice sighed, put on a robe, and followed Schmidt into the hallway. The guard trailed behind them. “No, clear as a whistle.”

  Dr. Schmidt made silent notations as they walked to this morning’s destination.

  “Any dizziness or nausea?”

  “I feel fine.”

  “So, no dizziness or nausea?”

  “No.”

  Schmidt refrained from further questions and accelerated her march. Entering a guarded stairwell, Janice felt tempted to scan the doctor. Schmidt seemed unusually tense. There were so many sentries present.

  They headed downstairs, through a narrow hatch, and into a darkened corridor. A gurney, with orange-stained blue cushions, sat next to another sliding hatchway. Janice had never seen this area before. Focus eluded her. She thought she saw technicians in blue environment suits. Perhaps they were empty suits, just hanging on the white walls.