And so could Alex Altschuler.
They began brainstorming once again, as they had endless times, searching for additional angles of attack. Heather had no experience with manhunts and knew nothing about military capabilities, but she climbed a learning curve like a hot-rodder on steroids, and her fresh perspective, her very ignorance of how things were typically done, had actually been helpful.
Their discussion was interrupted by a call coming in on Campbell’s personal line. He answered the phone absentmindedly.
And heard the voice of Nick Hall.
Campbell almost fell out of his chair.
“Nick? Thank God you’re alive,” he said as a burst of adrenaline shot through him. “I have Heather with me. I’m putting you on speaker now.”
“Nick!” said Heather excitedly. “Where have you been? What’s going on?”
Hall summarized his situation in less than a minute, ending with his escape from Lombardo and Hogan at the Mayflower hotel.
“Any idea who this Frank Earnest might be?” said Campbell when he had finished.
“My guess is a high-ranking politician. But I don’t have much time to talk. I need you to get me to Tucson. Now!” he added, panic beginning to show in his voice. “We have to get to Megan before they move her, or hurt her.”
“We will,” said the colonel. “Hang tight while I work out the logistics.”
He lowered his head for half a minute, deep in thought. “Okay, Nick,” he continued finally, “here’s what you need to do. Take a cab from the Mayflower to Andrews Air Force Base. This should only take about thirty-five minutes. I could send someone to pick you up, but this would take longer. I’ll have the Navy scramble an F-14 Tomcat and bring it to Andrews since it’s one of the few remaining fighters with two cockpits. I’ll make sure it’s there and fueled up as soon as possible. The pilot can fly you to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, which is only about ten to twenty miles from downtown Tucson. I’ll meet you on the runway with a helo and an assault team.”
“Sounds perfect!” said Hall in relief.
“What’s the air distance from DC to Arizona?” asked Campbell, counting on Hall to use his implants to call up the answer instantly.
“Nineteen hundred and ten miles.”
After a pause Campbell said, “The Tomcat can get you there in two hours and change. Any faster and you’d need a mid-air refuel, which I want to avoid.”
“Two hours is outstanding,” said Hall. “Heather,” he added, changing gears now that his travel arrangements had been worked out, “I am so sorry to learn about Alex. I’m going to help find him just as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Nick. You’re the one man who might really make the difference.”
“Where’s the general?” asked Hall. “He didn’t answer his private line. And I made sure my implants broadcast that the call was coming from me.”
Campbell shook his head and frowned. “He’s turned, Nick. Maybe mental illness. But he was behind Alex’s capture. Did you know the ten thousand implant sets for the trials were stolen as well?”
“What? What the hell is going on?”
“It’s Girdler. He’s behind both. And he’s nowhere to be found. He’s the subject of a massive manhunt and there’s a warrant out for his arrest. But with his brains and expertise he can stay hidden forever.”
“There must be some mistake,” said Hall. “I’ve been in Girdler’s mind. He isn’t capable of this kind of betrayal, and money doesn’t drive him. There must be another explanation.”
“He was in charge of security for both Alex and the implants. He was the only one who could have succeeded. Only him.”
“I don’t believe it. Maybe there’s another mind reader in the game. Maybe someone figured out the secret.”
“Then what would they need with the implants and Alex?” said Campbell. “I wish this were true, but it has to be the general. And he did skip town.”
“He knew he was framed and had no chance. You and I would have done the same, even if we were innocent.”
“I thought of that. But if this were true, why didn’t he contact me to let me know?”
“He didn’t want you involved. He’s insisted you distance yourself from him ever since he knew he had turned poison. He doesn’t want to risk taking you down with him. From what I know, he’s selfless like that.”
Campbell sighed. “There’s a history of mental illness in his family. I assume he’s become delusional. Once that happens all bets are off. It’s the only way I can square what I know of him with the reality.”
“I’m about to get into a cab,” said Hall.
“Hold up, Nick,” said the colonel. “You’re going to need at least a cursory disguise. I assume there are stores nearby. At minimum, get a hat, glasses, and bulky clothing—so you look bigger. You know the drill. And don’t worry, you won’t lose time, because if you left now for Andrews you’d probably have to wait a half-hour for the F-14.”
“Got it,” said Hall. “I’ve grown a beard, and no one has recognized me yet. But this is a good added precaution.”
“A beard?”
“Long story. So what else?”
“Have the cab take you to the main gate at Andrews. I’ll have someone waiting for you. Tell him your name is Clay King and that I sent you. He won’t ask for identification.”
“Thanks, Colonel.”
“I’m just thrilled you and Megan are okay,” said Campbell. “I’ll see you in Tucson in three hours or so.”
“Roger that,” replied Hall.
42
Hall wore a baseball cap and thick black-rimmed glasses, but didn’t take the time to buy additional clothing to bulk himself up. His face was well known, but he was also thought to be dead, so it would take monumentally bad luck for him to be recognized.
He instructed a cabbie to take him to the main gate of Andrews but to first complete a circle around the White House from about two miles out. The cabbie raised his eyebrows at this but didn’t question it further. He had taken any number of fares near the White House, but what was the point of being two miles away? And why a full circle, or square as the case may be, before heading on to Andrews?
While Hall was in a store purchasing his makeshift disguise, he had continued to read members of congress, who were still within his range, and record key findings to his storage site in the cloud. He had learned many times over that the president was working out of the Oval Office today, which he decided was too great of an opportunity to pass up.
As the cab circumnavigated the White House, Hall had more than fifteen minutes to read President Cochran and found more than enough to have his balls in a vise, although he had to admit the president was on the whole a very good man. Having read too many minds in Congress to count, Hall decided the country had made a great choice. Cochran had done a few things that would bring down his presidency if they got out, but he had done them for noble rather than selfish purposes, unlike many of his fellow politicians.
Hall knew full well what it was like to have to make hard choices. Not only did he have blood on his hands, but he had broken the law for what he became convinced was the good of civilization, and he had put Justin Girdler in an untenable position. Like the president, Girdler had secrets that couldn’t survive close scrutiny, but was also a very good man.
Or at least he had been.
As they drove to the base, Hall fantasized about what it would be like to see Megan once again. To hold her. And his eagerness, his anticipation, mixed with the fear he would be too late or something would go wrong, was numbing. His emotions reeled like the patterns in a spinning kaleidoscope, complex and ever-changing.
He arrived at the main gate and introduced himself as Clay King. A Captain McBride immediately exited the gatehouse to meet him. Hall told him that Colonel Mike Campbell had sent him and this was more than enough for the man, who didn’t recognize him as the famous, but long-dead, Nick Hall.
What happened next was a blur, since Hall cou
ldn’t quite believe it was real. He was introduced to a pilot and given a crash course on how to be a civilian passenger in an F-14, which apparently was about as common as a total eclipse of the sun.
And then, minutes later, he was behind the pilot in his own private cockpit, being fitted for a helmet. A dragonfly-shaped tinted visor covered the upper half of his face and an oxygen mask covered the lower, with a thick hose extending down from his chin.
The pilot had promised he would be as gentle as possible with the acceleration, limiting it to two Gs, and then they were off. As the pilot fired up the engines, which issued an intimidating roar and vibration like nothing Hall had ever heard or felt, Hall removed the baseball cap from his head and clutched it in his hand like it was a lifeline. As he looked down at it, a humorous quote he had read danced across his mind. It is impossible to travel faster than the speed of light, and certainly not desirable, as one's hat keeps blowing off.
Given that the jaws-of-life couldn’t have pried the hat from his hand, he felt he was in no danger of losing it. Wetting his pants, maybe, but not losing his hat.
The F-14 roared down the runway on its way to a thunderous take-off, pinning Hall back against his seat, and he decided the thumping of his heart was actually louder than the jet.
What followed was two hours of total exhilaration, and total terror. The fighter jet reached a speed of almost a thousand miles an hour, well below its top speed, but being in such a tiny cockpit with nothing between him and the great beyond but a transparent shell, he felt as if he were traveling several times this speed.
A little more than two hours after takeoff the jet set down smoothly on the runaway at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base.
Hall was a bit wobbly as he stood once again on the runway, but he replaced the cap on his head, adjusted his unnecessary glasses, and thanked the pilot profusely. It had been the ride of his life, but more importantly, it had gotten him where he needed to be with as much time as possible to find Megan before his escape was discovered.
Twenty yards away, two figures were closing fast.
Colonel Campbell, in full uniform, and Heather Zambrana. He embraced the colonel warmly and gave Heather an extended bearhug. “I was wondering if I’d ever see the two of you again,” he said.
“We were wondering the same,” said Campbell. He opened his mouth to make a request of Hall, but the mind reader beat him to the punch.
“I understand your discomfort at being this close to me, Colonel. I know you’re privy to secrets even I shouldn’t know. I promise to only read your strongest surface thoughts, the ones I can’t avoid. Really.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
“Don’t thank me. Everyone deserves the privacy of their own thoughts. Thanks to you for putting up with it. And for being there for me when I need you the most.”
Campbell smiled. “Nah. I’m sure you have plenty of friends with access to F-14s,” he said dryly.
“Not as many as you might think,” said Hall, returning the smile. He turned to Heather. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here to greet me. A very happy surprise.”
“I told her there were possible dangers,” said the colonel, “but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. You know the way she feels about you and Megan.”
“Besides,” said Heather with a twinkle in her eye, “Mike has made me an honorary member of PsyOps while we try to find Alex.”
They began walking toward an imposing military helicopter parked ahead on the runway, which the colonel explained was a Pave Hawk. Sister to the Black Hawk, it had the same elongated, dragonfly body, and room for a crew of four or five, including a pilot, co-pilot, and gunner, and could carry eight to ten troops as well.
“A hell of a lot more chopper than we need,” said Campbell. “But this will do nicely.” He handed each of them a sophisticated set of padded black headphones, with a speaker arm they could position under their mouths. “An assault team is standing by in another Pave Hawk for my orders.”
“Who’s going to pilot this thing?” said Hall.
“I am,” said the colonel.
“You can pilot a Pave Hawk?” said Hall in dismay.
“Haven’t for over a decade. But I wasn’t always in PsyOps. Long story. I’ll tell you someday.” He shrugged. “But it’s probably like riding a bicycle. I’m sure it’ll come right back to me. Right?”
Hall grinned. “And I thought the F-14 was terrifying.”
“Don’t worry. For routine flying like we’ll be doing, these helos can almost fly themselves nowadays.”
They lifted high above the runway and then banked sharply to the South. “I’ve programmed in the geography covered by the 520 area code, ignoring all population centers. The software turns this area into a grid and then calculates the optimal search and rescue pattern to take. I’ve programmed it to assume we can spot our quarry at five miles out.”
“Perfect,” said Hall appreciatively.
The Pave Hawk flew relatively low to the ground, following a complex pattern whose mathematics only Altschuler would truly appreciate. Hall called out telepathically to Megan as forcefully as he could every fifteen seconds, while Campbell continued to plan. Heather remained silent, looking out of the window at the desolate desert below and trying not to distract either man.
Hall knew he might have been able to locate Megan using his ESP ability alone, but given she was a needle in a haystack telepathy upped his chances considerably. And he knew she had understood the message he had tried to convey during their call: stay alert and ready.
After twenty minutes without a response Hall began to worry. Had they moved her? Had he miscalculated somehow?
“Megan, honey, I love you,” he broadcast with all of his might. “Please be out there somewhere.”
“Nick, thank God!” came a faint response, gushing into his mind. “You’re really nearby. Incredible!”
Absolute euphoria coursed through Hall like a drug. He threw his head back and drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes in relief. “Hold on, Megan,” he broadcast, and then hurriedly told the colonel he had made contact and to maintain their position.
“How did you do it, Nick? You were in Washington this morning. I wouldn’t have thought you could even fly this far west by now, let alone find me.”
“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised. I’ll tell you about it later. I’m with Mike and Heather in a military helicopter, by the way, and you’re in Tucson, Arizona. But I need you to go to the window that gives you a view of as many geographic features as possible. Rock or cactus formations, hills, mountains, that sort of thing.”
“Moving to a window now,” she replied.
“Broadcast the image you’re seeing to me,” he requested, and seconds later it arrived. His implants picked it up as if he was seeing it himself and he relayed this to the Pave Hawk’s onboard computer. The computer compared it to detailed satellite imagery of the geography in a five-mile radius around them and spit out precise GPS coordinates less than a minute later.
“We have you located,” he informed Megan. “But I’m signing off for a few minutes. I need to read the minds of your captors and consult with Mike and Heather. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Hall turned to his two companions. “There are four men with her,” he said, and both heard him clearly through their headsets despite the noisy whipping of the chopper blades through the air as they hovered in place. “Named Angel Sanchez, Dave Bergum, Dom Olinda, and Boyd Solomon. Solomon is in charge, and the only one who knows what’s going on.”
Hall paused for several seconds, his head tilted up, as though listening. “The man behind this is named Marc Fisher. Ring any bells, Colonel?”
“Son of a bitch!” growled Campbell. “Yes. He’s the Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee. I’ve had dealings with him on a number of occasions. And I’m not entirely surprised. He’s one of the few with knowledge of the events at the Oscars. And he’s wealthy, power hungry, and well connected. A real snake. He can be charming and
friendly if he needs you. But rumors are that he’s pure evil underneath and that anyone who gets in his way lives to regret it.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” said Hall with a bitter edge to his voice. “But for now, what are your thoughts on freeing Megan?”
“The assault team can get here in minutes,” said the colonel. “They can easily take out these four men. The house is out in the open and isolated. The wrinkle is we need to get Megan out of there first, or this gets a lot more difficult, and a lot riskier. This part will be up to you, Nick.”
Hall nodded. “I understand. Go on.”
“We also need to make sure they don’t warn their boss—warn Fisher. So the team will suppress cellular coverage to the house before the attack. In preparation, I’ve already had them contact the local phone company that runs the landline, and they have someone standing by to cut that service also, as soon as we tell them. We’ll hang back until they’re cut off.”
He paused. “As long as Megan isn’t in the line of fire or a possible hostage this couldn’t be easier. As soon as you tell me she’s a few hundred yards away from the structure we’ll go in strong.”
“The doors are locked from the inside,” said Hall. “But I’ve read the code from Solomon’s mind. Megan can enter this into a touchpad and escape. The trick is for her not to be seen doing it.”
“I assume you can text them as Fisher, correct?” said Campbell.
“Yes. But unlike at the Oscars where I had technical help standing by, I won’t be able to make it look like the text came from Fisher’s phone.”
“Will it say it’s coming from Nick Hall?” asked Heather.
“No. I can choose any name I like. I could choose Marc Fisher. But they would know from the number it isn’t him, and it wouldn’t arrive as part of an earlier conversational thread the two had established.”
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