Dark Project

by Sean E Thomas

  “Can I help you?” She turned from her computer to acknowledge him. “Officer Sable.” The startled expression remained on her face as she scanned the troopers and guardsmen. Still she had the presence of mind to push the intercom.

  Sable stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, and his wiry frame radiated power and control. “We’re here to see Colonel Wright. We have warrants for Major General Dean’s arrest for murder.” Sable held the sheaf of paper up in the air so she could see the printing on the front.

  Wright stepped from his office and placed his hands on his hips. “That piece of paper won’t do you any good here,” he said and laughed. He was exceedingly tall, very thin, and wore his graying hair high and tight. “Only the Military Police, DIS or the FBI have jurisdiction here at Fort Greely.”

  “You’re wrong.” Captain Maroak motioned to his men, and they unslung their M16s and brought them to the ready. “You see it’s very simple. You’re also under arrest—for crimes against the State of Alaska.”

  “We’ll see.” Wright quickly moved around his desk and pushed some type of warning buzzer, but he scowled, as it didn’t activate. “What the hell?”

  “Courtesy of the 57th Heavy Armored Battalion Alaska, Army National Guard. My unit has taken over your small post. It was easy to do.”

  “Do you realize this is treason?” Wright huffed.

  “We’ll straighten everything out in the courts.” Maroak shrugged. “Now where is Dean?”

  “At his main office on the post.” Wright’s shoulders slouched ever so slightly.

  “He’s not there,” Sable said. “We’ve already checked.”

  Wright shrugged. “Then your guess is as good as mine.”

  A trooper rushed in and whispered in Sable’s ear, “We found an Army unit laying in an ambush for your friends at the border.”

  “Thanks.” Sable turned to Maroak. “Looks as though I’m going to need your help with another group of problem children.”

  Chapter 36

  A gentle, misting rain fell on the high forest and tundra near Boundary when Sable, Maroak, and the team of guardsmen and troopers pulled off the road and began setting up for the mission. Magpies screeched to warn them away, and a breeze cut through the trees, gently rustling branches. Fatigue hung over Sable as the last few days crushed in on him. He sighed and tried to psych himself up. Out in the Alaskan bush troopers were traffic cops, investigators, and State Emergency Response Team rolled into one. And now Sable was doing the same. He scanned the area, looking for the spot where Gamma Force had entered. Along the sides of the road, mining claims were lined up shoulder-to-shoulder and posted “NO TRESPASSING.” Vehicle tracks seemed to be everywhere.

  Overhead, a mass of thunderheads darkened the sky and threatened a heavier rain. Sable put on his vest and body armor. Shivering, he sensed something but couldn’t define it. His ESP was below the surface trying to break free from long years of being dormant.

  After reviewing tactics, the group split into two teams. It had been agreed the guardsmen would circle behind the force while the troopers hit the unit on the flank. Maroak went with his group and Sable with his cross-country, keeping low and among the trees. To the right, a draw in the brush lay three hundred yards away. Sable took a deep breath and motioned for his men to follow. He hunched over his M16, poised at the ready, as he trotted toward the draw. At the top of the draw, he saw two sentries crouched over a small fire less than a hundred feet away. Ducking behind a bush, he peered out over the rolling hills. He was on the edge of rolling terrain without bushes or trees for several hundred yards. This meant Maroak and his men would have to travel much farther to circle Gamma Force.

  Sable didn’t like the prospect of confrontation with the soldiers, but he knew he had only one choice: overpower the sentries and bind them without a sound.

  He needed an edge to strike quickly and silently.

  He played options out in his mind. Sable whispered into his headset, “Wadsworth, take the one on the right and I’ll take the other.” To the others, he said, “Use Tasers and the silencers.”

  “Gotcha.” Wadsworth began low crawling toward his target and Sable did likewise. Once Wadsworth was close enough, he lunged and threw a controlled knife hand strike to the soldier’s neck, enough to cause unconsciousness, but missed and sent the man to the ground.

  The other soldier, seeing his partner drop, pulled a combat knife, dropped into a fighting stance, and charged Wadsworth. Sable blocked the knife thrust and threw a reverse punch to the man’s chest. The soldier rebounded and drove the knife into Sable’s side but his body armor stopped the thrust. Sable staggered back, then regained his balance. The man drew back, leered, and aligned the back of the knife’s blade at a downward angle along his forearm. Lunging, the soldier whipped the blade in a side sweep at Sable’s neck. Sable blocked the thrust with a crescent kick and launched a side kick to his opponent’s chin followed by a roundhouse strike to the man’s ear. The loud crack of bones breaking shattered the silence. Without looking, Sable knew his man was dead. As he looked over at Wadsworth, the trooper was checking for a pulse on his man. Wadsworth shook his head. “This one’s gone too.”

  The team quickly continued until they were again close to the road. Ahead, in the trees lining the road, something glinted from a highly polished surface. Sable raised his arm, stopped the men, and signaled toward the trees. Wadsworth nodded in agreement and gave a thumbs-up. Sable wasn’t sure if anyone was in the trees, but he felt a foreboding. When he stepped forward, his whole body felt like he’d grabbed onto an electric fence. He could almost feel the soldiers nearby.

  Sable’s team slowly approached the area; they spread out into lines of attack and took up defensive positions. A hundred yards away, men in battle dress uniforms knelt behind brush and trees. Across their faces were irregular streaks and swirls of green and black grease paint. They were speaking in low tones and Sable strained to hear.

  “This Kincaid fellow is too smart to drive through the border,” one of the soldiers said. “He went through the wilderness.”

  “He’s somewhere in Canada, taking it easy, and having a good laugh on us,” the other soldier said and yawned.

  Another one coughed. “The brass are back in some nice, warm conference room trying to second guess this guy and he’s long gone.”

  “We’re in place,” Maroak said over Sable’s headset. “Soft or hard?”

  Sable realized Gamma Force wouldn’t surrender. Even though cornered, Sable knew they’d fight to the last man, leaving them with no choice but to use lethal force. It was their creed. He took a deep breath and decided. “Soft, but have each man assume his target.”

  “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t have a choice.” For the first time in a long while, Sable felt the full weight of his oath and badge. Sable gave the same orders to his team, then pulled the blow horn and said into the speaker, “Commander, Gamma Force, this is the Alaska State Troopers, you are surrounded. Drop your weapons and raise your hands.”

  A soldier in the center of the combat team said something into his headset. And much to Sable’s surprise, he threw down his rifle, following this with his combat knife. His men followed suit. “My men and I are not going to die for a lost cause,” he yelled.

  * * * *

  At the Top of the World Highway, past the lone cabin at Boundary, Lee pulled the Taurus station wagon up to a wooden building which sat on the hillside—the Canadian border. Dressed in women’s clothing, Bill sat on the passenger’s side of the vehicle, trying not to fidget. It took all his willpower to not reach for the wig to see if was straight. As Bill glanced around the area, there seemed to be only the cabin and no tourist facilities as Sable had told him. Across the road, he saw two men in dark suits trying to hide in the brush, but their standard issue dark sedan’s white U.S. government license plates confirmed his suspicions.

  As she looked out over the hills, Lee realized there wasn’
t a place to hide.

  A large, gregarious border guard approached her with a broad smile and Lee rolled down her window.

  “A good day for traveling, eh? Where are you heading?”

  “Dawson, to do some gambling and return.”

  “Two women alone?”

  “We’re also visiting our aunt in Dawson.”

  “Can I please see your driver’s license and the papers on the vehicle with proof of insurance for driving in Canada?”

  Bill smiled, pulled his identification from his purse, and handed it to Lee who in turn handed it with hers to the border guard. Bill fidgeted ever so slightly as the border guard inspected the identification, knowing any moment they would be discovered and he would be tossed into a Canadian prison. And well, a man in woman’s clothing—he didn’t want to consider the possibilities. The guard nodded and smiled; Bill let out a silent sigh. Luckily, Jon had taken care of everything, including the insurance paperwork.

  “By the way, do you have sufficient funds for an emergency? We require at least five hundred dollars.”

  “Yes, more than enough. I have two thousand in travelers checks and some cash for gambling.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. Lose a lot at the tables so you leave Canada green, eh?” The guard smiled at his own joke. He’d probably told the joke thousands of times.

  As they drove from the cabin, Bill asked, “Now can I get this stuff off?” He began squirming and wiggling.

  “No!” Lee roared with laughter. “I think you’re adorable.”

  Chapter 37

  Dean had moved his base of operations to the Castle Lodge in Chicken. “What do you mean, McNeal crossed the Canadian border this morning? Why didn’t you stop her?”

  “My men didn’t have the new photos.” Chapman aggressively moved around the desk and faced Dean. “She used a fake name, Laura Mitchell. She took her sister or a woman friend along with her.”

  Dean stroked his chin. Could Kincaid have dressed up as a woman? No. If he had, the border guard should have detected him. “Do I have to take over this investigation?”

  “Look, you son-of-a-bitch.” Chapman stepped closer and poked Dean in the chest with his finger. “You may have bought favors, but you don’t own me.”

  Dean dropped one hand over Chapman’s finger, snapped it, and drove his fist into the man’s throat. Chapman staggered back and reached for his gun. Dean came out of the chair, kicked the man in the groin, took the gun, and pushed Chapman over. “You’ll do as I say. Send your men into Canada.”

  “Kill me and they’ll fry you. I’ve left some incriminating notes and tapes in a safety deposit box,” Chapman croaked, while still writhing on the floor.

  “You’ll go after McNeal.”

  “McNeal’s not wanted. Besides my jurisdiction ends at the border.” Chapman pushed himself to his knees while panting for breath.

  Dean laid the gun on his desk and dug his fingernails into the edge of the mahogany. “You will go to Canada. Eventually, she will meet with Kincaid.”

  “No, sir. I know my limits and so do my men.” As Chapman stood shakily, he rubbed his throat.

  General Dean glared at him. “If you won’t do it, I’ll have my men go in.”

  Chapman barely croaked out a laugh. “Your high and mighty Gamma Force team is in jail, rotting with all your other cronies.”

  “Then I’ll make up a team myself and bring you along.”

  “I’ve told my boss I believe the charges were trumped up.”

  “Trumped up?” Dean screamed. “How dare you?”

  “Yes. He told us to withdraw from the case.”

  “The hell you will. I’ll see you in the post confinement facility first.” Dean dialed Johnson’s cell phone. “Send guards in here to put Chapman under arrest.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but there are five agents out here who say no,” Johnson said.

  Dean went for the revolver on the top of his desk, but Chapman swept it from his grasp. Dean then reached for the drawer. “That wouldn’t be wise. My agents no longer work for you.” Chapman turned and strode to the door.

  “I own you.”

  “No evidence. You never paid me.” Chapman roared in laughter. “Oh, if you didn’t know, there’s an APB out on you. They found Cindy’s body. You’re wanted for murder.”

  After Chapman left, Dean’s hands trembled and he fought for control. “Major, are they gone?”

  “Yes, sir. They walked out of here as if they owned the place,” Johnson grumbled. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. Have Ramsey report to me immediately.” There had to be a way to escape. Canada would be the first step. Once he found Kincaid, he’d be able to hide in plain sight as a younger man. Sable was looking for someone older.

  When Ramsey arrived, he seemed pensive. The colonel slid into a chair without any formalities. “All right, what is it?”

  Dean had pulled the colonel out of the confinement facility before he left Fort Greely and had gotten a tentative agreement to help him capture Kincaid. What could he expect? The man held a grudge. Dean chose his words carefully. “The DIS dropped their support once Kincaid slipped across the border. I need to go there after him. He’s stolen one of our formulas.”

  “The Guard I can forgive—they were protecting their village. You, Kincaid, and Sable I can’t.”

  “I need your help and I’m still your ranking officer.” Dean leaned forward.

  “You think it makes a difference? I don’t respect you.”

  “Where’s Kincaid?” Dean moved around the desk and sat on the edge. “Are you going to let him get away?”

  “I’ll help, but on my terms.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  “Kincaid’s friend, Sable, killed two of my men this morning.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sable could have skirted the men’s position or tranquilized them, but he went there to kill.” Ramsey ground his fist into his palm.

  “This operation is covert—without the permission of the Canadian government.”

  “Kincaid’s dead meat. And I don’t care what it takes to get him,” Ramsey said. “And when I return, I’ll take care of Sable and Maroak.”

  “First, we get the formula.”

  A cold smile enveloped the colonel’s face. “Remember, the girl’s mine. I have very special plans for her—let’s say she’s the carrot for the men I have left.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the Indian bitch. You can have her. I want Kincaid and I’m going to enjoy making his torture last for days. When I get through with him, he’ll beg me to kill him.”

  “We have to catch them before we can enjoy ourselves.”

  “When do we leave?” Dean asked. Sable seemed to be breathing down his neck.

  How far behind me is he?

  “Now.”

  “Good.”

  “First a plan. I suggest a three-pronged attack.” Ramsey leaned forward in his enthusiasm. “I’ll send two of my best men in as a point team. They’ll fly from Delta Junction to Dawson. I’ll have another team fly from Fairbanks into Whitehorse, rent a car, and head up the Klondike Highway. They’ll be the intercept team. We’ll be the third team. We’ll go to Canada by the Top of the World highway. There’s seventy more miles of poor, dirt roads. If we leave early tomorrow, we can be in Dawson easily by noon.”

  “The border crossing closes at eight.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, it’s only open twelve hours per day.”

  “But they’ll get away.”

  “Au contraire. We’ll have two men in Dawson by midnight.”

  Chapter 38

  Bill stopped the station wagon at the crest of the hill. To the north, the first snowfall had dusted the Ogilvie Mountains. Below, the Yukon and Klondike Rivers hemmed in Dawson City. Even from this distance, he saw the muddy streets and thought how easily horse-drawn carriages and dog sleds could still be running over them. Except for tourists in modern
dress walking along boardwalks, and a gas station or two, they could be driving into the Gold Rush era.

  “We have to cross the Yukon on the ferry?” Lee gestured to the craft, struggling upriver against the current.

  “Don’t worry, in 1980, Red and I crossed the river on the George Black Ferry. It’s safe. They run it every hour, twenty-four hours a day.” Bill shrugged, smiled, and ran a hand over his face, hoping he’d removed all his makeup.

  “Well, look at it! It’s hardly making any headway at all fighting the current.”

  “She is. But the captain compensates for the current.” Bill stretched back in the seat while pushing against the wheel. “Relax. You’ll enjoy it.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “What happened to the hardy, self-reliant woman?”

  Bill drove onto the ferry and felt the powerful throbbing of the engines and the river buffeting the hull. “Do you want to get out with me and watch the scenery?” he asked, looking at Lee’s pale face.

  “No, thanks. Isn’t there another way?”

  “Nope. This ferry’s run for years. Besides, it’s government run.”

  “And that’s supposed to calm me?” Lee dug her nails into the car’s armrests.

  Lee didn’t say another word until they had checked into the motel and were safely in their room. During the entire trip, her innate fear had kept her frozen in her seat. Lee let out a gasp as she sat beside Bill on the bed. “I thought you wanted to gamble?”

  “All I want is to sleep and enjoy this expensive motel room.”

  “But Dean—”

  “Doesn’t know where we are. We should be safe for a couple days.”

  “After gambling, maybe we can see the sights.”

  “Sure.”

  “Robert Service’s cabin?”

  “And Jack London’s cabin.”

  “Listen to a reading of Service’s poetry, a museum trip—”