With the power off, Brice and Ross Taylor entered the building and began placing charges in various locations, especially the gas tanks of nearly every vehicle. Like the charges set by both Teams Two and Three, theirs were set to go off at 2:00 a.m. Brice and company then left the building, closing and locking it. Jimmy took off the device blocking the power. They then ran a good distance away and waited. All the time, they kept eyes on what Rehman was doing. Sleeping.
At the stroke of 2:00 a.m., all the charges went off at once, destroying everything they were designed to. Teams Two and Three, satisfied with their work, headed back to their rally site at the abandoned oil equipment building to shed their gear and wait for Teams One and Four.
The explosion caused by Team One obliterated the arms and vehicle cache as planned. It also took out the fronts of two of the barracks buildings, creating mayhem and turmoil.
“Ross, do you see what I see?” Brice said in a low voice.
“You mean Rehman lying knocked out on what used to be his bedroom floor?”
“That’s what I see,” Brice affirmed. “I also see that there’s no more outside wall to his room. Time to move in and drag him out. Jimmy, cover us as we go over there to snatch him. I don’t think there will be much resistance. Everybody walking around seems to be in a daze.”
But not everybody.
Just as Brice and Ross started to pick up Rehman, gunfire opened in their direction.
“Well shit, Brice, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten me into.”
“Stop thinking like Laurel and Hardy, Ross. I think they can see us more or less in this smoke.”
Just then Jimmy opened up with his MP5 on the lone gunman and the shooting stopped. At least momentarily.
“OK, Jimmy, we’re coming out. Keep that shooter busy.”
Without a reply, Jimmy started firing short bursts into the area in which the shooter was located. One or two rounds of return fire bounced off the remnants of the training yard wall next to Jimmy, but soon the firing stopped. Brice and Ross dragged Rehman out while Jimmy jumped into the van and started it. As soon as his teammates were in the van, Jimmy turned sharply around from the now-blazing barracks and arms cache and drove away. Rehman recovered enough to struggle and yell, so Brice decided to try the stun gun Van had given him. After seeing that it was set on 1, Brice fired at Rehman. Down he went, as quiet as a sleeping baby. Now that, thought Brice, will be a good thing to have.
Everyone met at the rally point to change their clothes. Brice couldn’t help but notice that Van was walking up to the rally building, and he was alone.
“Why are you on foot and where’s Harry?”
“We parked about a quarter mile away. Harry is with our ride.”
Brice wanted to ask why but thought better of it.
“How did everything go?” Van asked.
“The mountain work went smoothly,” Brice reported. “Taking Rehman was a little tricky. After the arms cache explosion, we were surprised to see Rehman on his bedroom floor with one wall blown out. That created easy access until somebody apparently saw us moving in the smoke. Jimmy put a stop to that and we bugged out. How about you?”
“Our job was relatively easy. Nobody there except two inattentive guards. Unfortunately, when our charges went off at the cave mouth, the guardhouse ceased to exist. You getting all of this, Dick?”
“Every bit, Van. But count yourself lucky that it went as well as it did. There were many opportunities for big trouble. Speaking of trouble, you may not want to drop by here anytime soon. Barbara is really pissed that you went operational again. Do you guys ever talk?”
“Yes, we did have some luck. But we learned a lot also. Brice and his team should be back at your location tomorrow after they drop off Rehman. Harry and I will head straight back to Arizona.”
It was not lost on Brice that Van ignored Dick’s question and innuendo. But nobody else said anything either.
With that, Brice and his team said good-bye to Van and dragged Rehman into one of their vehicles.
Back in the Site R Operations Center, Van convened a secure conference call between him, Harry, and Dick in the Carson Ops Center SCIF. He opened the call by asking, “Any news on our adventure in Libya?”
“Only that blowing those caches was like kicking over an anthill,” Dick said. “There are mad Libyans all over the place trying to find out what happened. Fortunately for us, they think Rehman was killed in the explosion.”
“That must be good news for your CIA friend.”
“That it is. By the way, I didn’t realize it, but there was a two-hundred-thousand-dollar reward on Rehman. Same arrangement?”
“That will be fine, Dick. Didn’t plan on it, but it should pay a few bills.”
“Good. By the way, since we have poked the hornet’s nest again, I expect Meier will try something again in retaliation. He’s a kind of tit-for-tat operator. So Ross and his team are on their way to the San Diego office to keep an eye on you. Hopefully you will neither see them nor need them. But better safe than sorry.”
“You might be right, Dick, and I appreciate the help. However, we can’t continue to play this cat-and-mouse game with Meier. Harry and I, and hopefully you, want to get back to the real work we planned before Meier stuck his nose in our business. I can only think we need to find him and get rid of him one way or another.”
“You’re reading my mind, Van. Barbara has already started zeroing in on Meier’s home location. We know, with Harry’s help, that he has several residences and that yacht; the problem is trying to predict where he will be long enough for us to do something about him. I assume that Harry and Barbara, and maybe you, can work on this together?”
“I get the message, Dick. Harry will be in contact with Barbara and we can work something out, perhaps here in San Diego.”
“Good enough. Now I get to spend a little of that reward money on a nice lunch for my team. Talk to you later.”
After the conference call, Van decided to take a walk outside, away from the cabin and away from the site. It was a great day for it. The temperature was a little high but normal for this time of year. It was much like it had been the first time he’d visited the property. A slight breeze flowing through the trees, the scent of pine. All in all, a great place. But it wasn’t the outdoors that was on his mind. It was Barbara. As he walked, he remembered all the old feelings—as well as the hurt when she’d left. It had been nearly nine years since they had any emotional connection, and he had thought the whole affair had been put away. That was where he wanted it after all. Put away in a box and forgotten.
One thing was clear, however: he had to work with her, so he couldn’t avoid her all the time. But what to do?
What he realized was that the box had been cracked open, and some of those old feelings were starting to come out. But he wasn’t eager to be crushed again. The best he could do, he thought, was to play it by ear and see what happened. Snapping out of it, he started back to the cabin. Life is peculiar, but as a friend had once told him, “It is what it is.”
Back in San Diego, Van was pleased to see that the house had been restored to its earlier condition. He had done some of the work himself, but he hired a highly recommended contractor to fix some of the more serious damage to wallboard and some of the cabinetry. To his surprise, the contractor had also painted it, and the place looked almost new. He smiled because he loved this place.
He sat in his lounge chair and signaled Harry from his implant.
“I am here, Commander.”
“Harry, I’ve been thinking again. Based on the rescue mission and this last one to Libya, we are not using the available technology the way we should. I know we’ve been seriously protective of it, but if we can’t use it, why have it?”
“To what technology are you referring, Commander?”
“Well lots of it, but primarily the shuttles. It seems we waste a great deal of time and money trying to hide our flight capabilities from our team. In this last m
ission, for example, if we had been able to use one or more of the shuttles, we could have transported the team faster to the contact zone, and we could have carried out the mission faster, all while each man kept control of his own equipment. Add to that the mystery and concern we are generating over how we get to and from the locations, etcetera.”
“I see your point, Commander. However, up to now you could explain the technology you have given the team by logically suggesting it has been a Stellar development. Explaining the shuttles will require more imagination.”
“What if we disguised them in some way that made them look advanced but not out of this world? A great deal of progress is now being made in VTOL— vertical takeoff and landing—aircraft like the Marine F-35 variant. Perhaps we can take our lead from that. Add a couple of false fuel tanks, perhaps some rotating jet nacelles and/or ducted fans—all of which can make some noise and push air around but wouldn’t actually be required for flight.”
“That might actually work, Commander. I would like to experiment, however, perhaps on one of the Site B shuttles. I’ll start on that right away.”
“Good. Also, next time I’m at Site R, see if you can demonstrate using one of the robots as a physical body for yourself. That might be very handy in the future.”
“I will also work on that, Commander. Anything else?”
“Not right now, Harry. I think I’ll drive up to Rancho Bernardo and say hello to Al. I’ll talk with you when I get back.”
Van took a shower, changed clothes, and headed toward Rancho Bernardo when he suddenly realized that things had actually gone well over the past few days. No Peter Meier. No particular problems, except maybe Barbara.
Then he realized a silent Meier was disturbing. Not that he wanted trouble. But trouble was finding him regularly these days. It was too quiet. But try as he might, he couldn’t come up with anything solid. He should have remembered Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
CHAPTER 28
Since it was a nice day, Van decided to take the scenic route, opting to shoot down H Street to I-5 and then Harbor Drive. He drove past the developing downtown area looking over the bay to the Naval Air Station at Coronado, then by the airport where airplanes came disturbingly close to the Laurel Street Garage to land, and eventually past the Marine Corps Recruiting depot where he used to keep a boat. Great memories, many of which included Barbara.
He then got back on I-5 North and was soon passing Mission Bay, where each summer groups played a strange game of baseball on the beach and appointed an annual Miss Emersome, as in “em-er-some big ones.”
Then it was past La Jolla, where he’d once considered buying a condo and now regretted missing the opportunity. Just past Torre Pines he turned east onto Highway 56 to intercept I-15 and on to Rancho Bernardo. As he did so, he thought he noticed a car following him. It looked like a Ford Taurus. Probably Dick’s boys, he thought. To be safe, however, he contacted Dick on his implant system.
“Dick, are you there?”
A few seconds later the reply came. “Yes, what’s up?”
“I’m having a leisurely drive up to Rancho Bernardo to see Al Craig and just turned west on 56. Do you have someone following me?”
“Just a minute while I check.” Seconds later, Dick responded, “Yep, our guys are behind you in a Ford Taurus.”
“OK, just checking. Maybe being overly cautious.”
“No such thing as overly cautious, Van.”
“I think my grandmother used to say that, Dick.”
“Then she was smart.”
Just as Van passed Carmel Valley Road, there was a loud bang, and Van’s car and his world turned over and over.
Van slowly became aware of things around him. He was still in the car, held in by the seatbelt, but it was hazy as if dust were in the air. His vision was blurred, and his head felt like a giant was jumping up and down on it. He saw a moving shadow that started to take focus on a man. A large black man.
“You OK?” Ross asked. bending over to check on Van through what remained of the driver’s side door and window. “You rolled four times before your car came to a stop. Looks like a tire blew.”
“I think I’m OK, but the car is a mess. Help me out.”
As Van struggled out with Ross’s assistance, he saw blood on his pants and shirt. “On second thought, I think I’ve been hurt.” And he passed out.
Van opened his eyes this time to a white ceiling. Sun was coming in a nearby window. Looking around, he saw an IV bottle apparently connected to him by a tube, and a machine making annoying beeping noises. Am I in a hospital? he asked himself. And there was a big black guy in the room. That was odd. He held no prejudices, but the size of the man was enough to concern the hardiest of men. Besides, he didn’t recall knowing anybody that big, white or black. Maybe it was drugs or something, he thought. Van blinked his eyes twice, but the big image didn’t go away, so it must be real.
“Where am I?”
“Pomerado Hospital in Rancho Bernardo.”
“Who are you?”
“Uh, my name is Ross. You don’t remember me?”
“Never seen you before. Why are you here? And, for that matter, why am I here?” said Van, confused.
“I’m part of your security detail, and your car blew a tire on your way to Rancho Bernardo.”
“And a blown tire caused all of this?” Van said, motioning with his arm to point out all the equipment and tubes.
“No, not by itself. You rolled a few times.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Childs, I have to make a phone call right away,” Ross said and promptly left the room.
Wonder what that was all about? Van thought. Why did he take off like that? Security detail? This doesn’t make sense.
OK, I had an accident and I’m in a hospital. That makes sense. I guess it also makes sense that I don’t remember the details of the accident. But a really big black guy saying he is on my security detail… I should remember that. And then he rushes off. I’m not liking this one bit. What happens when he comes back? Maybe I don’t want to find out. Has to be some sort of call button somewhere. Yep, here it is. He pressed the button.
Moments later an elderly nurse in hospital scrubs walked in. “Hello, Mr. Childs. Glad to see you’re awake. My name is Grace, and I’m the nurse assigned to you this shift.”
“Good to meet you, Grace. What’s my condition?”
“Well, the doctor can tell you more, but it appears that you were hurt in an accident while driving to Rancho Bernardo. The big man who just left and some others brought you here unconscious,” Grace said.
“OK, where am I hurt the most, besides all over?”
“You took a glancing hit to the left occipital area.”
“And what’s an occipital area?” Van asked, trying to get his brain to work.
“The area on your head just behind the ear,” the nurse explained. “There was no major trauma, but as you likely know, head wounds bleed a lot, which concerned your friends. You required a few stitches, and you’ll likely have a headache for several days.”
“Terrific,” Van said, still worried about the return of the big man called Ross. “When can I get out of here?”
“That will be up to the doctor. Oh, here he is now. Mr. Childs, this is Dr. Aldrich.”
“Good to see you awake and talking, Mr. Childs, that’s a good sign,” said the middle-aged and cheerful doctor also in hospital greens.
“I’ll take all the good signs I can get. When will I be able to leave?”
Ignoring Van’s question, the doctor asked in a clipped, professional tone, “What do you remember about the accident?”
“Not a thing. Don’t know why I was out driving. And the first I knew of all of this was when I woke up and saw that huge man in the room.”
“Not too surprising. Head trauma, even those that don’t penetrate the skull, can cause some short-term memory loss. What’s your
name and where do you live?”
“Van Childs. I live in Chula Vista,” responded Van.
The doctor asked several more questions, like what was his phone number and social security number, all of which Van answered quickly.
“Well, except for the short-term memory loss, which is normal, you don’t seem to have suffered any serious damage. I suggest that you have a CAT scan and a few other tests.”
“Do I get those here?”
“Unfortunately no. Our equipment is undergoing some technical modifications. You’re former military, right?”
“Yes, Navy.”
“Then I’ll contact Balboa Naval Hospital and set up an appointment as soon as possible. Meanwhile, you are free to go if you must, but I recommend staying one more day just in case.”
“I appreciate that, Doctor, but I would like to get home and rest. Sorry, but I don’t much like hospitals.”
“OK. How will you get there? Your car was seriously damaged and can’t be driven, as I understand it,” said Dr. Aldrich with concern.
“I’m in Rancho Bernardo?”
“Yes,” the doctor confirmed.
“Too far for a taxi to Chula Vista. Any other transportation available?”
“I think Grace can help you with a limousine service if you wish. No friends that can take you home?”
“No, not in Chula Vista. A limo will be fine if you can arrange it.”
“I can do that, Doctor,” Grace said, “but there is a policeman outside who would like to talk to Mr. Childs first.”
“Very well. When the police are done with you, and if we can’t convince you to stay another night, then you are free to go, Mr. Childs, but remember to go to Balboa for follow-up.”
“I will. Thank you both,” Van said with a smile. But he knew he probably wouldn’t. He didn’t like hospitals, and doctors only bad news in his view.
Future Discovered: Host Saga Book 1 Page 18