Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C.

by Edward Galluzzi

  Up in the sky, Harrison closed his eyes briefly. His eyes opened as quickly as they closed. Harrison glanced at the altimeter, which was now at 7,000 feet. He checked the fuel gauge and noted that the amount of petroleum indicated was barely sufficient to land at D.C.-2—he hoped. As the healthy engine whined, Harrison flipped the switched to restart the left engine. At first, he heard nothing and noted no change. Harrison switched off the engine and then tried once again. He glanced at the altimeter and read 6-0-0-0 feet. He forced the switch hard as if the extra pressure would make a difference. He yelled aloud, “Come on! Do it, damn it!” Another glance of the altimeter indicated that his altitude was now at 5,000 feet.

  Mentor continued to monitor the altitude of Target One on the ground. He asked the radar traffic controller of Harrison’s status and was told, “5,000 feet and descending fast, sir.” Mentor requested that he be informed of Target One’s descent for every 200 feet. The air traffic controller nodded his understanding of the order. Within several minutes, Mentor heard “4,800 feet sir and still descending.” Mentor stared skyward as if Target One would appear intact above him. His thoughts were interrupted once again by an updated report, “4,600 feet sir and dropping.” Mentor banged his fist against the ledge before him and said inaudibly, “Damn you, Harrison!” His right fist remained closed tightly as if he was contemplating repeating the action. “Sir, 4,400 feet and still descending” was the familiar recount. The air traffic controller looked at Mentor with concern and perhaps was simply mirroring the distress on Mentor’s face. Mentor nodded his head slightly as if to confirm the traffic controller’s suspicions. Within moments, “4,200 feet sir” echoed in the enclosed control tower. Mentor wanted to displace some of the tension developing within him. He began pacing the tower placing his hands behind his back. The more he paced, the less it seemed to help overall. Several minutes later he heard, “Now at 4,000 feet and still descending sir.” Mentor’s pace quickened. He knew that Target One would disappear off the radar in a few minutes at its rate of descent. Mentor closed his eyes as if he desired some inner peace. His grasp for inner strength was interrupted by another progress report, “3,800 feet, sir.” Again the air traffic controller stared at Mentor, but turned around to focus on the monitor that was projecting Target One’s plunge to earth.

  Mentor continued his swift pace up and down the tower’s corridor. He ached as he heard progressively plummeting reports on Target One…“3,600 feet…3,400 feet, sir…3,200 feet and falling, sir…3-0-0-0 feet, sir.” It became clear to Mentor that Hardware was meeting with little success at restarting Target One’s engine. Perhaps what the missing explosives did not accomplish, the left engine of Target One would and seal the fate of its sole passenger.

  Target One was racing toward terra earth. Harrison continued the pressure on the engine switch. He looked at his altimeter and read 2,900 feet. Harrison checked the fuel flow to the engines and the gauges betrayed nothing out of the ordinary. What was clear, however, was that his fuel was dangerously low. Harrison stopped engaging the engine switch. He checked the altitude once again and noted that Target One was now at 2,800 feet.

  At D.C.-2, the air traffic controller echoed Harrison’s flight level as he had repetitively done so since Target One’s descent. Mentor knew that they would soon lose radar contact, as the private jet would be below radar signals. In the end, they would know nothing on the ground unless Harrison radioed them or they found the remains of Target One. As Mentor considered the possibilities, the controller interrupted his thoughts, “Sorry, sir. He’s off radar now. Nothing more we can do from here.” At those words, Mentor headed his way out of the control tower. A helicopter was waiting on the ground to take him to the last known radar contact. From there, a trajectory given Target One’s rate of descent would be used to identify the jet’s most probable and perhaps fatal position.

  Harrison glanced at the altimeter as he turned the engine switch again. He was now at 2,000 feet. Unexpectedly, the once silent engine began a slow whine and its turbo began its revolutions. Target One continued its involuntary descent and was now at 1,500 feet. The whirl of the engine became stronger. The stability of Target One was improving. Harrison was feeling relieved as he managed to level out Target One at 1,200 feet. With the accomplishment of level flight, Harrison body flushed out the tension that just moments before invaded his every cell. His pilot seat was wet from the nervous sweat that oozed from every gland of his body.

  Mentor was making his way toward his helicopter. He saw from a distance that its blades were revolving and idling, ready for take off. Mentor reached the copter in moments and stepped up to enter its inner hull. He motioned to the pilot with a “thumbs up” indicating his readiness for flight. The pilot nodded and the blades of the copter increased their whirl and whined. As the pilot began his ascent, Mentor received a radio message from the tower. The radar controller said with excitement, “Chopper One, there is an incoming message from Target One. Will transfer him to you on frequency 142.5.” Mentor radioed back, “Roger, Tower. Will pick up on frequency 142.5.” The pilot turned the radio dial to the designated frequency. Mentor was relieved to hear the undeniable voice of Harrison: “D.C.-2, this is Target One. Please acknowledge. D.C.-2, this is Target One, over.”

  Mentor could not disguise the excitement in his voice as he transmitted, “Harrison, don’t you ever do that to me again! Do you hear me?” Harrison smiled broadly at the welcomed voice of Mentor. He radioed, “I’ll gladly change places with you next time, Greg!” The colleagues and friends both laughed— something neither were able to do over the past several hours. They both wanted to jump in victory, but their circumstances did not permit them to do so.

  Harrison transmitted, “Requesting permission to land at D.C.-2, over.” The D.C.-2 control tower responded, “Permission granted, Target One. Come to heading 357 and use runway 222. Please acknowledge.” Harrison radioed, “Acknowledged D.C.-2. Coming to heading 357 and will use runway 222. Will see you in about one hour, Mentor.” “Roger, Hardware” transmitted Mentor. He added, “Welcome home!”

  Harrison smiled and replaced the microphone. He checked his fuel gauge. It would be thin, but he believed there was sufficient fuel to land at D.C.-2. ‘I certainly hope so,’ he thought to himself. Mentor no doubt recalled the copters that were ordered to search for Target One’s wreckage.

  Within moments, D.C.-2 and runway 222 were in sight. Harrison made the final adjustments to Target One’s glide path. He eased its nose downward and neared terra firma. Target One was centered over runway 222. Harrison pushed forward on the steering causing the tires to make contact with the pavement below him. Target One bounced and vibrated before its wheels made sustained contact with the runway. Harrison took a deep breath and slowly released it from his lungs. He throttled back on the engines to slow Target One and the jet gradually slowed. As the jet began to crawl, Harrison turned off the runway to a side path at the right. The path led to a special hangar where Target One would receive a thorough maintenance and diagnostic work-up.

  As Harrison approached the hangar, the wide doors were opened and he was signaled to enter the shelter. He followed the directions given to him by the grounds person. Harrison slowly guided Target One to its resting place and throttled off the engines. He released his seat belt and stood to leave the cockpit. Harrison steadied himself as his “sky legs” made him wobble in his walk. He opened the jet’s outer door and stepped out onto the mobile metal stairway that was placed in position. Harrison turned suddenly and patted Target One on her hull.

  Harrison walked off the final step and both feet were now planted firmly on the ground. He turned around to take a look at Target One, perhaps to thank her for safely returning him. As Harrison walked away from the hangar, Mentor came running toward him. The two men grabbed each other firmly as they paused momentarily. They made eye contact, but remained silent. Mentor broke the silence, “Glad to see you, Harrison. You know, I don’t need any more gray hairs than I alr
eady have.” “Gray hairs,” Harrison mused, “You’re lucky to have any hair at all!” The physical and emotionally drained men smiled. As they walked out of the hangar, special explosive and engineering teams passed them. Harrison guessed that Mentor ordered that Target One be scrutinized inside and out to rule out the cause of the engine fire and perhaps a failed explosive charge on her outer hull.

  Chapter 9

  Double Take

  Mentor, whose real identity was very guarded and known only to the President and the special agents he controlled, walked with Harrison into a waiting limousine by the air traffic control tower of D.C.-2 airport. Mentor nodded at the driver whom Harrison suspected knew their destination for he did not reply or utter a word. Harrison stared at Mentor who was staring back at him. “It’s really good to see you in one piece, Harrison” beamed Mentor. “Not as happy as I am to see you Greg,” replied Harrison. He very seldom addressed Mentor in the familiar, but he believed that the circumstances and the genuine warmth of their relationship justified its intimate use.

  Harrison continued, “I regret the loss of agents Scout and Eagle. They were good agents and family men. I feel sorry for their families.” “Yes, that they truly were” said Mentor. He continued, “They were not expendable. Their children had a right to grow up with fathers. It will be difficult to replace them after so many years. If not for the Grace of God and Hannah, I’m afraid that you too would be counted among them.” Harrison neither grasped Mentor’s subtle meaning nor responded verbally, but could not disguise the inquisitive look on his face. Moments later he asked simply, “Hannah?” “Yes, Hannah,” insisted Mentor. If you were in the States as were Scout and Eagle, I have no doubt that Target One and you would have met a similar fate. Apparently, whoever was behind the sabotage literally did not have the time to reach your destination out of the country.” “Well, you know I can always count on Hannah to save me from myself was Harrison’s meager attempt at levity to lighten up a morbid scenario.

  Glancing out of the limousine’s window, Harrison noted that they were headed into the heart of D.C. He asked somewhat hesitantly, “Where do we go from here?” “There is a special meeting scheduled for six o’clock this evening at the White House” replied Mentor. He continued, “We were ready to proceed with the meeting with or without you since we were uncertain about the outcome of your flight.” “How comforting,” mused Harrison. Mentor smiled in return and said, “We will drop you off at your place so that you can rest and refresh yourself. Be sure to dress formally. I suppose that you may want to contact somebody special, but I advise against it.” “Oh?” was Harrison’s simple inquire. “It is clear that whoever knew that Scout and Eagle worked directly under the President and murdered them, undoubtedly know that you do as well and would like to seal a similar fate for you. Contacting Hannah now could jeopardize your safety as well as hers.” Harrison turned away and faced forward. The words spoken by Mentor were undoubtedly true. Harrison turned back toward Mentor and said with some sarcasm; “I bow to your superior thinking as usual” for he indeed did desire to contact Hannah.

  Both men smiled and remained silent for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Harrison soon broke the quiet by asking, “Any word about Software?” Mentor did not respond immediately and when he did reply, he chose his words deliberately: “Everything we know about President Ashton and what you need to know will be discussed this evening.” This time it was Mentor who turned away from his agent. Harrison was both confused and concerned. It was unusual for Mentor not to relate something about a case, even some speculation; yet, he understood the seriousness of the situation in that it centered on not only the disappearance of the President of the United States, but the first woman President of America.

  The limousine slowed and pulled out of the mainstream of traffic. They were in front of Harrison’s apartment. The limo came to a stop as Mentor turned toward his number one agent and said, “Harrison, this is the most serious crisis that we have faced during my tenure in D.C. Having lost several responsible and well-trained agents, I’m not willing to sacrifice another. Watch your backside. Whoever was behind all this obviously wanted to dismantle our organization in order to minimize the effectiveness and quickness of our response. I won’t let that happen!” Mentor paused briefly and purposefully made direct eye contact with Harrison before continuing, “Hardware, you are ordered not to question anything at the staffing. The goal of the meeting is to dispense information. You will be briefed more fully later. You will not question anything you see or hear. Do we understand each other?” Harrison was unfamiliar with the tone of Mentor’s voice, but has never had reason to question Mentor’s directives. The two men shared a strong professional relationship for many years. Harrison had no delusion about who was in charge. As if to assure Mentor of his allegiance, Harrison affirmed, “You know I’ve never doubted your leadership, Greg, and as always, you have my complete support.” In an attempt to inject some humor into the situation, Harrison added, “I’ll just be a fly on the wall.” Mentor smiled and nodded. The two men firmly shook hands and Harrison stepped out the limousine. The car pulled away from the curb and Harrison entered his apartment building.

  Harrison walked up several flights of stairs to his apartment. He looked carefully at the apartment door and observed no foreign markings. Harrison unlocked the door and walked directly to his left as he entered his apartment. As he approached the alarm panel, he noted that the pattern of lights indicated no intrusion. Harrison scanned the apartment and observed nothing out of place to the human eye. He walked carefully through the rest of his apartment, but noted nothing out of the ordinary. Harrison entered his bedroom and stooped over to remove a section of carpeting. He next removed a panel concealed underneath the carpet, which revealed a secondary, independent alarm system. Harrison checked the settings to ensure that they agreed with the primary system. He again observed no deviation from that which was expected. Harrison closed the panel and replaced the section of carpeting so that it once again blended with its surroundings.

  Harrison took a deep breath and sat on the edge of his bed. On an impulse, he wanted to call Hannah simply to say “hello” and express his love. However, he knew that Mentor was correct. What could be said in a brief conversation did not outweigh the risks of being exposed and putting Hannah in harms way. In any event, Hannah would receive his earlier fax and that he knew would have to suffice for the moment.

  Harrison glanced at his watch. It was already mid-afternoon. He had three hours before he was expected to show his presence at the White House. Harrison decided to unwind and relax in the hot tub. He undressed and stepped down into the warmth of the hot tub. Harrison relaxed as the whirling hot water helped soothe his aching muscles. It was the first time that he realized his tiredness and the stress created by today’s crisis. Harrison remained in this relaxing state for about an hour. He then stepped out of the hot tub and headed for the shower. He turned the faucet that released a stream of steam. His outstretched hand interrupted the stream as he adjusted the temperature of the water. Satisfied to the touch, Harrison slipped in the shower. He lowered his head and stood silently as the hot water massaged the back of his neck. As the water temperature grew colder, Harrison knew that he overstayed his welcome in the shower. He turned off the water and grabbed the nearby towel. Harrison stepped out of the shower as he dried himself. He slipped into bed and set the alarm to awaken him in one and one-half hours. Harrison fell asleep quickly for a needed rest.

  It seemed to Harrison that he just put his head to the pillow when the alarm blared and woke him. He rose out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. After a quick shave and comb of his hair, he dressed in a pressed dark blue suit and matching tie. Harrison’s attention in the mirror was drawn to the blinking light of his answering machine that rested on his bedside nightstand. The electronic device identified that it was holding eleven calls. Although Harrison did not have time to retrieve the messages, he knew there was a high proba
bility that at least one of the eleven messages was from Hannah. Harrison walked over to the night table and tapped the retrieval button. After halfway listening to eight messages from friends and business contacts, the ninth caller was unmistakable: “Hi, honey! Miss you. My bed is always cold without you. Yours better be too! [laughter] The days are very long without you. Oh, I met with Pope Josetta. What a wonderful and perceptive man he is. He sends you his regards and hopes to see us together soon.” The message went silent for a moment. “Please keep safe, my H. Love you very much.” Harrison tapped the stop button, as he was no longer interested in the remaining messages. He sat down on the bed and stared momentarily across the room.

  Harrison glanced at his watch and noted that time was quickly passing. He finished dressing and took a final look in the mirror as he adjusted his tie. He appeared presentable by his own standards and walked out of the bedroom. Harrison entered the kitchen and headed toward the refrigerator in hopes of satisfying his twinge of hunger. He opened the fridge door and peered inside. Besides the inevitable green mold characteristic in the home of single men, nothing seemed edible except for a container of fruit on the bottom yogurt. ‘Oh, good,’ Harrison thought to himself. ‘Cherry. My favorite.’ He reached inside and removed the plastic container. Harrison glanced at the clock once again only to note that time continued to tick away. This was not a conference for which Harrison planned to be late. He hurriedly gulped the pleasanttasting yogurt. He tossed the empty container into the wastebasket using his top professional basketball player form and skill.

  On his way out, Harrison stopped at the security panel and reset the intricate alarm. He walked out the door and hurried down several flights of stairway. He walked outside the apartment building and hailed a cab. The drive to the White House was less than 20 minutes away. A cabby saw the waving of a hand and left the mainstream of traffic. Harrison entered the cab as it pulled to the side of the curb. “To the White House, please” remarked Harrison. The driver lifted his eyebrow and replied, “Yes, sir!” The driver drove back into the mainstream of traffic and sped toward the heart of D.C.