by Ralph Rotten
“Alexis, have you established access to their phone system?” His tone flat as he spoke, Jamie was focused on the screens before him.
“Affirmative!” Her tone businesslike, the AI confirmed that she had long ago penetrated their simple communications network. While much of it was encrypted against eavesdropping, none of that mattered if the server itself were co-opted by a highly intelligent synthetic mind like hers.
“I need you to make a call.” Sitting back, Jamie let out his breath slowly. It was a big step, but his calculations told him it was time to make the leap.
At 33, federal agent Jenna Jaramillo was known by her co-workers as a woman on the fast track to her own corner office. Never content to just be the token Hispanic female in the office, she had proven her abilities many times during her decade of federal service. Having begun her law enforcement career as a military police officer, she had come up through the ranks. It had been a useful part of her development; dealing with drunken GIs had taught her how to do the hard things that her profession demanded. Though there were times that she had felt like slinking away from a conflict, she had always been mindful of her father’s old axiom; “Them calves ain’t gonna brand themselves.” he would say as he sat atop his little Appaloosa on a cold morning. Applying that philosophy to criminals put things into perspective for her. After all, if she could run down a fleeing calf, rope it, wrestle it, and restrain it with her bare hands, then how much harder could a felon be?
It had been this ability to swallow her fear that had earned her a reputation for being fearless. It also helped that she was a black belt in Aikido and knew a hundred ways to inflict pain without leaving a bruise. Nonetheless, at only 5’11”, there were always suspects who were bigger and stronger than she.
Raised in the miniscule town of Vail, Arizona, she had yearned to get out and see the world. At the time she had dread the idea of spending her life in a burg like Vail. But in the years since she had come to realize that her childhood had been truly idyllic compared to many of her counterparts. So many summers had been spent riding horses through the nearby oasis known as Pantano Wash, or camping in the splendor of the Rincon Mountains. It had been life on her family’s tiny farm that had given her a work ethic that did not blanche at the idea of breaking a sweat. Unlike most recruits, she found basic training refreshingly easy. After all, the Army never asked her to unload ten tons of baled hay, clean corrals, or dig waterline trenches. Having spent her youth climbing the mountain ranges that ringed Tucson, she found the Army’s daily physical training effortless by comparison.
Her hitch in the Army had been half over when she was first approached by a federal recruiter. Bright, young, and eager, it had not taken a lot of coaxing to convince her that the FBI was where she needed to be. Attending night classes while working days as a Military Police officer, she had picked up her degree in Administration of Criminal Justice before moving to Quantico, Virginia, to start her exciting new life as a federal agent.
In the years that followed, she had risen to fame at the local field office where she had been assigned. After the Patterson kidnapping had ended in a bloody gunfight that resulted in the death of the Johnson gang and the safe return of the ten year old victim, word had gotten around that she was a solid agent. Next there was the Halloween Crew, known to rob banks while wearing kids’ masks. Like the Patterson case, she had ended their careers in a most explosive manner when a stray bullet had detonated the military-grade Composition-4 the crew had concealed in the trunk of their car. As if all this were not enough, her stellar conviction rate had gotten her noticed by people at the top.
Assigned to the San Diego office for the last two years, she had again proven herself by adapting quickly to the escalating technological threats of their world. Even among a cadre of college educated agents she was known as the thinking man’s agent. With criminals growing increasingly tech savvy, she had found herself back in school many times in an effort to master new skills.
But her newfound technical abilities had been wasted on the perp seated before her. Bernard Shaw was as low tech as they came. The vitriolic leader of the local faction of the Western Hammerskins, he was nothing more than a violent racist skinhead. Wanted in connection with the murder of a Hispanic family, he fully looked the part of the monster he was suspected to be. With Nazi tattoos all the way up his neck, red boot laces to symbolize the minority blood he had spilled for the cause, and a look of absolute hatred for Jenna, he was rumored to have killed dozens of people during his term as Kommandant of the local chapter.
“How’s your eye?” Feigning concern for his swollen orb, she refrained from laughing at his reaction. In truth, she was glad to have given him the bruise after he had attempted to resist arrest. No doubt it galled the felon to not only have been arrested by a Latina, but to have been physically subdued by her in front of his crew. The insult was insufferable. He only hoped that his comrades had all been too busy being accosted to have witnessed his schooling at Agent Jaramillo’s hands.
It had been a lightning raid conducted before the sun was up, and as usual Jenna had been the second agent through the door. While she would not have minded being first, the honor was one reserved for Agent Lopamaua. The burly Samoan and former Marine tipped the scales at almost 300 pounds, making him a walking, talking brick wall. More than once she had seen him kick doors clean off their hinges.
As if on cue, the big agent filled the doorway. With a broad smile contrasting sharply with his dark olive skin, he seemed pleased at the fish they had netted today.
“This ‘ol boy giving you any trouble Jen?” Still grinning, Agent Lopamaua eyed the perp’s black eye.
“Rangi! M’ main man!” Holding out a fist for a bump, Jenna greeted her fellow agent happily. “Naw, me and Bernie have been getting along just fine since he had his attitude adjusted this morning. Isn’t that right Mister Shaw?”
“I got nothing to say.” His lip curling up in disgust, it clearly irritated the man to be in the presence of the two minority agents. As if being arrested were not enough to ruin his day, having been roughed up by a pair of mud-people only added to the humiliation.
Watching the massive agent saunter away, Jenna’s attention was diverted by the ringing phone on her desk. Answering, she was greeted by a man’s deep voice.
“Agent Jaramillo” Clearly not a Spanish speaker, the voice botched her name, pronouncing the J and double L’s wrong. Rather than saying Har-a-mee-yo, he had called her Jar-a-mill-o.
Raising an eyebrow at the mispronunciation, she chose not to correct him. It was nothing new; and she had long ago learned to accept the fact that her Spanish surname made no sense to English speakers.
“This is she, and you are…?” Keeping her voice professional, she preferred to know who was asking questions.
“This is Agent Don Carson in the New York office. I understand that you have a Bernard Shaw in your custody. Is that correct?” His tone was officious as he inquired.
Instinctively, Jenna used her computer to check the federal registry to see if such an agent actually worked in the NYC office. Seeing his name pop up on the screen, she pushed aside the keyboard.
“I do. What can I do for you Agent Carson?” Glancing up at the skinhead that sat handcuffed in her office, she wondered what they could possibly want with her prisoner on the other side of the country.
“He is wanted in connection with something the antiterrorism task force is working on.” The explanation seemed plausible on the surface.
Jenna raised an eyebrow before responding. “I ran him through NICS already, and I didn’t see any BOLO’s besides our own.”
“And you wouldn’t have. Our interest in this one is strictly classified. We got a notification as soon as you ran him.” Carson explained carefully, as if she needed to be told how the system worked.
“Great. We have him, so what’dya want?” Something in his tone told Jenna that she was about to have her suspect taken away.
“We n
eed him sent to a secure facility for further questioning. He is believed to be part of some serious crap.” His voice took on an angry edge as he seemed to want to say more.
“We have him for the murder of a whole family. How much more serious could your charges be?” Nonplussed, she tried to keep her temper.
“Look, I know this seems like a shit-sandwich, having your perp taken away, but we have reason to believe he is connected with the Tiffany’s shooting.”
Jenna sat back at that. Anyone not living in a cave would have known about the Tiffany’s mass murder. Shooters had used automatic weapons to murder more than sixty party revelers at an LGBTQ bar in New York. In addition to the dead, there were dozens more injured in the melee, including three NYPD officers. Of late there had been little else in the headlines.
“We will make arrangements to have him transferred to another…facility.” The pause in his speech had seemed odd.
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.” Forcing a smile, Jenna looked Shaw in the eyes as she wondered just exactly where he was bound. In her heart of hearts she hoped it was Hell.
Standing in the doorway again, Rangi had several slips of paper in hand.
“These just popped outta the printer for you.” Holding the printouts, he seemed quizzical about it all.
Snatching the documents, Jenna was surprised enough that she raised both eyebrows this time.
“Well, well, well, Mister Shaw. You are in some deep kimshi.” Giving a genuine smile, Jenna knew that her words were a gross understatement. “Rangi my bro, could you drop this piece of shit off in holding for me?”
“I could indeed, m’ dear.” Grinning broadly, he flashed her more ivory than a piano. “If there’s one thing I enjoy doing, it’s throwing dirtbags into jail cells. Hell, I like it so much that I get up extra early in the morning just so I got more daylight to throw assholes into cells. At my house we don’t call it daylight savings time, we call it an extra hour to throw assholes in cells every day, that’s what we call it at my house.”
Yanking the skinhead up roughly, Rangi obviously loved this part of the job.
Sitting at her desk, Jenna read through the printouts. While she had previously believed she had Shaw on some serious charges, the documents in her hand redefined the concept. Based on what she was reading, her suspect was now officially a domestic terrorist. This was big league.
“Wow!” Jack seemed entranced by the image on the screen as he looked over Jamie’s shoulder. “Who’s that?”
Jamie seemed to jump a little. Clearly he had no idea how long his brother had been standing there watching. Gathering his wits, he sank back into his office chair.
“Eh? Oh, That’s Agent Jaramillo.” Jamie left it at that as he did a poor job of concealing his surprise.
Struck by the face on the screen, Jack failed to notice his brother’s shock. Leaning in close, he examined her in detail. With her hair tucked back in a tactical bun at the back of her head, and her dress shirt open at the second button, there was just something about the look in her eye that captured his attention. Commandeering one of the touchscreens, the inventor zipped through the recorded footage being transmitted by the drone concealed in her desk lamp. Finally pausing as something caught his attention, he focused on her phone as she set it down on the desk. Still unlocked after ending the call, he could see the desktop applications she had installed on her phone. Expanding the screen he zoomed in on the picture.
“Lookit her apps.” Jack’s voice held a note of wonderment. “Stellarium, Nasa’s Eyes, Dinopedia…I think I’m in love.”
“Stick to the plan. We don’t need our efforts being sidelined by your libido.” Frowning, Professor James used his desktop controller to switch the feed to the interior of the Queen Mary.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Irritated, Jack sat on the edge of the nearest desk. He knew it would annoy his brother; butts belonged in chairs, not on desks or other work areas.
Jamie felt his ire grow at the sight of his brother’s squirming buttocks on the desktop. Finally resigning himself to disinfecting the spot later, the savant raised his eyebrows as he awaited a progress report from his older sibling. “Well, where are we on the Queen Mary?”
“I have mapped the interior, discovered the right exposed bulkheads, and documented the equipment there, and manufactured housing boxes that will blend in. I’m done with the Queen. I even have the decoys ready to go.”
“What about the high altitude vehicle?” Raising an eyebrow, Jamie tried to ignore the fact that his brother was scooting his butt around on the desk. He suspected that Jack was intentionally trying to irritate him.
“Oh, you mean the submarine? Yeah, that…” Jack’s tone changed as he folded his arms and eyed his younger brother warily. “Exactly where in the plan does that thing fit?
“It is merely part of the contingency plan, in case we need an absolutely safe egress.” Having practiced his lie for days, Jamie was able to appear convincing in his explanation of the device being built from a steel water tank. Actually designed as a high altitude craft, it was not really a submarine at all. The nickname had simply been the derisive term his older brother used to describe the vehicle.
“And the new drones? What about those? Why do you need a buncha bugs that fit inside of a flying cop light?” His eyes narrowing to slits, Jack was tired of all the secrecy. He had already tried to get information out of Alexis, but each time she had simply stopped answering his calls, pretending to be busy on other projects.
“Tis’ nothing but preemptive research.” Shrugging, Professor James tried to minimize it as his accent seemed to falter for a moment.
“Research of what?” Not liking the vagueness of his brother’s answer, Jack was suspicious right away. Knowing that his brother was not averse to long-winded explanations, he knew that there was much more to it than he was letting on. Also, Jack could see how his brother’s hands fidgeted. He did that when he was lying. While Jamie could possibly be the smartest man on the planet, he was a lousy poker player.
Exhaling as if he were exasperated, Jamie finally relented the tiniest bit.
“There is a small probability that one or both of us could end up briefly incarcerated. In the event that such a pitfall befalls us, I am researching the facility where we would be housed. However, due to our special status it is unlikely we would find ourselves in the local county lockup.”
Jack mulled that over, still giving his brother a skeptical look. “So you think they would take us to some kind of a black site…?”
“Yes.” His reply was succinct as Professor James nodded in agreement. “And since such a place is not likely to be advertised in the yellow pages or on FaceBook, the specialized bots will be needed to determine exactly where that place is.
It suddenly became clear to Jack as he put the pieces together. Right away he understood why these bots were so much different from the previous Gen V units they had deployed in town. It all made sense; the housing, the satellite broadband connection, the unique abilities of each of the drones…
“Show me.” Standing upright, Jack pointed angrily to the monitors.
Shrugging haplessly, Jamie’s voice remained neutral. “Alex and I are still trying to locate it. But you may observe…from a safe distance.” Pointing to a chair in the corner of the room, the savant indicated where he thought it best for his brother to remain during the process.
“Yeah, right.” Disregarding Jamie’s direction, Jack grabbed a nearby stool and parked himself at the savant’s elbow.
Frowning, Jamie knew it was pointless to argue further. The plan was already in motion and his sibling would not relent. This he knew from a lifetime with Jack.
“Alexis invaded the FBI’s database and inserted a bogus warrant for terrorism, as well as a host of other nasty offenses sure to reclassify our subject for special treatment. At this very moment we are awaiting his transport to a secure facility.” Toggling through cameras, Jamie had a mugshot of Bernard Shaw dis
played on one of the monitors.
“This is the guy?” Jack’s eyes widened at the sight of the felon. The profile picture clearly showed the swastikas and Aryan propaganda that decorated the man’s shaved head. As he read through the supremist’s criminal history, he found himself holding his breath. “Holy Pope piss! This guy’s a fuckin’ monster.”
“Language.” Jamie corrected his brother before continuing. “Yes, he is quite the specimen, which is why I feel no remorse in using him in this manner. It is a safe bet that he deserves this, and much more.”
“Definitely more.” Finding no reason to object, Jack felt revulsion at the sight of the felon. Bernard Shaw represented everything that the brothers had feared and loathed their entire life. There on the screen before them was a man who would have eradicated them without hesitation, were he ever afforded the opportunity. In another time men like Shaw had lynched and enslaved people like the Sparks brothers. This was a man who believed that his ethnicity alone made him superior to those of darker hues. To call him a monster was truly an understatement.
“The transport vehicle has arrived.” Alexis interrupted their conversation with an update.
Cussing and struggling against his escorts, Bernard Shaw put up a good fight as he was physically dragged through the basement parking structure and into the waiting transport van. With all eyes on the scuffle, no one noticed as the cylindrical object lifted up from a nearby structural support, hovered its way across the lot before attaching itself to the roof of the vehicle. Nestled between the arrays of police lights on the rooftop, the amber strobe light would just appear to be part of the clutter. Like the Purloined Letter, it would hide in plain sight amongst all of the other flashing lights atop of the paddy wagon.
Bumping along down the highway, the faux strobe light continued to send out tracking updates as night fell around them. The trip lasted little more than an hour before the van pulled off the highway. Navigating the two-lane road for another forty minutes, the prisoner transport seemed to be headed nowhere. Using GoogleEarth to track the vehicle’s progress, Jamie and Jack were bewildered. According to the satellite imagery there was nothing for the next twenty miles. The mystery only deepened when the van finally turned north on a private driveway. Trundling along, the transport eventually arrived at a compound surrounded by a tall fence topped with concertina wire.