“Finally, you will have constant contact with me via your implant and our remote capabilities. I calculate that these items should be enough technology, along with the plastic ties, tape, and gag material you have already laid out. Do you need anything else?”
“Not that I can think of,” Van said, “but, like always, I’m probably forgetting something!”
He sent an e-mail to Dick using an agreed-upon code, confirming his original plan to pass the location of Sudani to his old friend, who in turn would direct the authorities to Sudani. For this project, they agreed that the authorities in this case would be the local CIA resident. Now it was time for some sleep before hitting the road, or sky, the next morning.
CHAPTER 9
Van sat back in the comfortable seat of the Gulfstream G4 headed for Great Britain. This is the way to fly, he confirmed to himself. No crying babies, no talkative seatmate. All of it appealed to his introverted nature.
To avoid the hassle of London’s Heathrow Airport, he asked the flight crew to file a flight plan to London City Airport, an international airport located near the Royal Docks in Newham, six miles east of London.
Newham, he knew from a web search, was a London borough formed from the former Essex County boroughs of West Ham and East Ham. The population of about three hundred thousand was described as the most diverse area of London and, in many cases, one of the lowest-income areas. More importantly, it was the area in which Sudani was hiding.
Van had Harry book a room for a week at the Four Seasons Hotel at Canary Wharf. He initially considered a more local hotel like the Ruskin on High Street North in Newham, but then thought it better to reside a little farther from Sudani’s location just in case investigations got too close. After landing, Van took a cab to the hotel, caught a shower, and ordered some room service. In addition, he connected his laptop to one of Harry’s communications devices to link up with the AI. After being refreshed, Van took a walk outside the hotel toward the Thames River. The lights of London were intense and reflected from the smooth surface of the river.
As he walked along, Van took the prescription bottle from his pocket, removed the cap, and allowed the mobile cameras to take flight. Off they went in a faint buzz in a northeast direction toward Sudani’s location on Prince Regent Lane in Newham. With a smile, he turned around and strode back to his hotel and his room. As he walked he thought, These things need names. A “mobile camera” is just not cool. What about “fireflies”? Yes! I like it.
When he got back to his room, he was pleased to find that Harry had already distributed the fireflies in strategic locations.
“The fireflies, as you choose to call them, Commander, can last as long as two weeks. If you look on your laptop, you can see red dots appearing around Newham and Prince Regent Lane. These are all firefly locations. Clicking on any of the red dots will bring up an infrared image at night and a normal view in daylight. But for detailed recognition, such as voice, a firefly has to be within a few feet of the target of interest. In addition, I am able to tap into the many local cameras that bathe London in visual coverage.”
“Still sounds like the God’s Eye,” Van said. “But God’s Eye is too dramatic. I think we should call the whole system Big Brother.”
“Very well, Commander.”
“But finding Sudani may be the easy part. We still need to figure out how we can actually catch him.”
In the morning, Van awoke refreshed and ready for breakfast, which he got through room service. He didn’t want to spend any more time in public than he had to. As he suspected, Harry and Big Brother were at work. Over the next few days Harry tracked Sudani everywhere he went, and a few patterns started to emerge. First, Sudani liked to walk in the mornings. Invariably he left his rented flat above a blue-doored lockup that served as a small market during the day. He turned to his right and walked north on Prince Regent to the greenway footpath and cycle way, which ran northwest toward Victoria Park. Each day he was gone for about an hour between 7:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. Oddly enough he did so without security.
Sudani’s second apparent habit was visiting the Masjid Al-Falah mosque near the greenway most days at 1:04 p.m. local time. It was apparently mandatory on Fridays but commonly optional during other days.
With such regular habits, Van could only wonder why he had not yet been found by any authority. Perhaps it was because Sudani had shaved his beard and head and wore sunglasses day and night, along with plain Western clothing. It worked because the inhabitants of Newham were so diverse; no one person stood out from another, not even on the greenway.
Van noted that traffic on the greenway thined out to nearly nothing after 7:00 a.m.
“You know, Harry, this is a busy place and the mosque is constantly full of worshipers. Taking Sudani on the greenway is probably the best option. But how can we do that?”
Harry had an idea and Van felt foolish for not thinking about it himself. “Why not employ one of the Host shuttles, Commander?” Harry offered.
“What?” asked Van.
“We can use one of the shuttles, which you equated to the Enterprise shuttle earlier, Commander. I can transport it remotely to your location at night in its stealth mode and park it for use in the daylight.”
“Of course, the Enterprise!” Van said, using the Star Trek term to now name the first shuttle. “We can stage the Enterprise on the greenway at night and turn on the stealth mode so that it’s not visible in the morning. I can follow Sudani on the greenway as a fellow walker, and when he’s near the Enterprise, use a stunner to disable him long enough to get him inside where he can be secured. You can then transport us to a less public location, and we can tell Dick where to direct the CIA, and leave Sudani all tied up in a neat bow! This is cool! Have you discovered a place to deposit him?”
“I have indeed, Commander,” Harry said. “There are many abandoned buildings in Sheffield, South Yorkshire. One of them is an old joinery on Arundel Street.”
“Why so far away from London?”
“The farther away from your location the better, Commander. Investigators would have a hard time linking you to Sudani if he were found far from where you stayed and have been seen.”
“Good point,” Van said.
Bright and early the next morning, Van rented a car and drove to a place just a few blocks from where the greenway met Prince Regent Lane. He wore some jogging clothes that he had brought with him from the States.
I think I need to do some real exercising instead of just pretending. Ah, here he comes, right on time, thought Van as he watched Sudani on the greenway.
“Harry, I’m following Sudani now,” he said, falling into a walk about fifty paces behind his target.
Van was wearing some glasses provided by Harry, so he could see both Sudani and also the Enterprise parked about two hundred yards ahead and to the right of the path. Van picked up his pace as he got closer to the Enterprise in anticipation of stunning Sudani and quickly carrying him into the shuttle. Just as he was about to make his move, however, two runners appeared on the opposite side of the path running toward him and Sudani. Not wanting to make a scene, Van fell back as the runners passed, and both he and his target walked by the landed Enterprise.
“Have to wait, Harry. Too many people around for this pass. I’ll wait for him to come back this way as he usually does in about a quarter mile. Then I’ll slow down and wait for him to catch up even with the shuttle.”
“Yes, Commander. I detect no more people near you on the greenway.”
Ten minutes later, as Sudani came abreast of him, Van pressed the stunner button and Sudani collapsed. Quickly he scooped up the dazed man and dragged him to the Enterprise where the rear ramp was already down. Van half carried, half dragged Sudani up the ramp and into the shuttle, then closed the hatch behind him. Using the tape and plastic ties he’d brought, he secured the prize.
“Let’s go, Harry. Sudani is secure.”
The Enterprise lifted off in stealth mode on its
way to Sheffield. The only thing Van had to do now was pull a balaclava over his head and face to remain anonymous and then wait.
In less than an hour, the Enterprise hovered over the vacant joinery, and when the ramp came down, Van dragged his prisoner onto the building’s roof. The ramp went back up, and the craft was again invisible from all sides. Sudani was now awake but still dazed, making him easy to control. Van led the prisoner down two flights of stairs and found an empty room with several metal posts holding up the floor above. Securing Sudani with more tape to the center post, he gave the bewildered man a salute and ran back to the roof and the awaiting Enterprise.
“OK, Harry. We’re good to go. Did you pass the location to Dick?”
“Yes, Commander. I did so on the way here.”
“Great, that will give us some time to get out of here.”
Harry returned Van to the greenway so he could get back to his car, return to the hotel, and check out. Harry remotely vectored the Enterprise home to the Arizona site and alerted the flight crew to prepare the Gulfstream for the trip back to the US with a short stop in Washington, DC. By the time the Gulfstream was airborne and on its way west, the CIA agents had found Sudani still taped to the post in the old joinery.
The next morning, Van again met with Dick Carson at the Hyatt Regency Cinnabar. As Dick approached the table, he wore a big smile and was shaking his head from side to side.
“I truly never thought you could do it,” Dick said as he held out his hand to Van. “Multiple governments have been trying for years to do what you did in a week. I have to know how you managed it.”
Van smiled back. “Thanks, Dick. For a first-time project, there was much more going on than I imagined. Fortunately, my technology partner was smart enough to make it happen. I can see much room for improvement. However, at this point most of what my partner and I can do must remain secret. We are still not smart enough or large enough to protect ourselves from real professionals and especially power-hungry organizations and governments that will want to control us. If you agree though, we would like to work with you again, to be your eyes and ears in Washington and elsewhere. We could certainly use some advice along the way as well.”
“This is so interesting that I couldn’t say no under any circumstances,” Dick said. “I’m here to help when I can. I do have a few comments that might be to your benefit. First, if you’re going to be the lead or only person involved in these projects, you might want to avoid leaving any trails that might connect you with the events.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, first you flew to London in a jet leased to Stellar, landed at an airport close to where your target was hiding, then used your own passport to pass through customs, to register at the hotel, and to rent a car. Shortly after Sudani was discovered, you departed the UK—in this case for DC—before you’ll continue to San Diego, I’m assuming. That’s a broad trail under any circumstances, and if anyone had suspicions about your activities, you left a nice trail of bread crumbs. Secondly, you stopped off in DC to see me at the same place we met a few weeks prior. That establishes a connection between you, me, and the event that would pique anyone’s interest. In this case, I could become compromised and then of no use to you.”
“Good points all,” Van said, embarrassed. “Recommendations?”
“Yes,” responded Dick. “Let’s minimize the face-to-face meetings and establish some secure method of communication. Additionally, you might consider not using company-owned or – leased assets like the Gulfstream on a project that easily links you to the events you might be involved with. Just some thoughts.”
“More good points. As part of that solution, I’ll be leaving with you a small communications device that you can use with your various phones and other communications equipment. My assistant will let you know how it works.”
“By the way, what do you want to do with the reward?” asked Dick.
“What reward?” Van said, puzzled.
“There was a $300,000 reward on information leading to the capture of Sudani. Since I was the one to provide his location, the check will come to me. But it’s really yours.”
“I had no idea,” Van said. “We’re not in this for the money, but there are costs that need to be paid. How about us splitting it fifty-fifty? I’ll have my assistant send you an invoice for $150,000 for consulting work completed, and you can mail Stellar Projects a check.”
With an even bigger smile on his face, Dick said, “That works for me!”
When Van departed, Dick started thinking, as he often did when something was pestering him but remained just out of reach.
He was shrewd in business as well as national security affairs. A strategic thinker and planner, he saw opportunities and solutions where others saw only problems. And when people became comfortable with the status quo, he remained alert for issues. Never stopped thinking, never trusted the world around him. And right now his internal alerts were sounding off almost painfully in his head.
Despite his military experience, Van is an amateur at security and terrorism issues. But he managed to do something that the best professionals couldn’t: locate and capture a prime terrorist. How did he do it? More importantly, what trouble might he unknowingly get himself into? Whatever Van knew and could do, Dick sensed that he should get on board—and look out for someone who was not only his friend but also a potential major asset to the Carson Group and perhaps the country. With new resolve, he called his head of security and operations, Brice Johnson, to his office.
Johnson was a six-foot-two former Army Ranger with blond hair showing no gray. His most prominent features were his sapphire-blue eyes, which were riveted to whatever had his attention. Though he was forty years old, he passed for thirty.
“Brice,” Dick said, “have a seat.”
“No thanks, I prefer to stand,” said the West Point graduate.
“I forgot. You hardly ever sit when you can stand or move around. Anyway, I have a close friend, and now a potential business partner, I’m worried about. I have no specific threats against him, but my gut tells me that sooner or later he’ll need some help. I would like you to arrange for some discreet protection and surveillance. He’s to know nothing about this. His name is Van Childs, and I have some details here in this folder. Also, see what you can find out about his company, Stellar Projects.”
“I see he’s in San Diego,” Brice said, looking through the documents from the folder. “That makes things easier due to the fact that we have ex-military contacts who specialize in this at a reasonable cost. I’ll contact them right away and stay on top of it. Anything else?”
“Not for now, but my guess is that sooner rather than later we’ll get more involved in the kind of projects we wanted from our inception, and Childs may be in the middle of it all. And keep Barbara Fuller updated on this as well. I have a feeling we’ll likely need her intelligence and analysis skills soon.”
CHAPTER 10
Barbara Fuller sat working in the planning room of the Carson Group, for whom she was the intelligence officer. She was slightly on the tall side at five foot seven, trim and athletic, with short brown hair and sparkling light brown eyes. Normally, Barbara came across to others as energetic and quick to react… except for just now when she was frozen in place.
Brice had just told her that their company might join in partnership with Stellar Projects in San Diego, a company led by a guy named Van Childs.
Could it be the same Van Childs from years ago? she asked herself. No, it can’t be. He wasn’t the business type. Not aggressive enough.
When she didn’t respond immediately, he asked, “Are you OK, Barbara? You look like your best friend just died.”
“I’m fine, I just thought I recognized that name, Childs.”
“You may have. He was a Navy pilot and operated out of San Diego a lot. Weren’t you an intel officer for one of the Navy squadrons?”
“Yes,” she said, continuing to stare into space. So it
is him! How did this happen? And I have to work with him, I suppose. Shit!
“Well that’s probably where you knew him. Probably even dated him, if my suspicions are correct.”
Trying not to make much of a deal of this in front of Brice, Barbara responded, “If it’s the same Van Childs, I did date him for a while. I was reassigned and we never saw much of each other over the years. The last time was when I was giving intel briefings at the Naval War College over eight years ago.”
“Well perhaps this will be a chance to renew old acquaintances.”
“Sure… old acquaintances.” In this case, not one she wanted to renew.
Barbara left the room without another word, leaving Brice wondering what the real story was all about.
The haunting strands of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata floated through the rooms of the Geneva townhouse. The man playing the piano was linked to the music, as though his long fingers and piano keys were one. There was no sheet music; it all came from Peter Meier’s head—a head that was covered in thinning red hair streaked with white and that was larger than normal. His dark brown eyes were hidden by his closed lids as he dreamed the music into reality.
As he came to the end of the piece, he folded his hands in his lap and considered what he had just played. He could tell that his fingers were not responding as they used to, and he had made a few mistakes, but the enjoyment was still there. Then his eyes opened to the real world. He had to call Harold Iken and encourage him to strike a deal with Stellar Projects. Perhaps a partnership. The technology that Stellar was releasing was better than his own from Europa Medical. The overall shape of the Stellar product was the same. But it was more compact, more intuitive, and had more diagnostic capabilities. Something mysterious there, though. A product like his own, but better. He would try the cooperative path first to get what he wanted. There would be time for other measures later if necessary.
Future Discovered: Host Saga Book 1 Page 6