“I assume,” Zack said, “that Vega is here in San Francisco, but where’s Salazar?”
“I have reason to believe that he’ll be here shortly.”
“Anyway,” Jorge said, “I need your decision…I expect your decision, but I won’t pressure you. It must come from you, and you alone.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Zack,” Jorge said with exasperation. “Making decisions is a threshold event to maturity.” He paused. “I know you’re ready.”
Zack leaned back. He took several deep breaths and said, “Count me in.”
“If at any point, you wish to change your mind, that’s okay, too. I must insist, however, on absolute confidentiality.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Meeting Senoia Jaso did little to reassure Zack. He was a big man in camo jacket and pants.
If I saw him walking down the street,” Zack thought. “I’d cross to the other side.
Jorge made the introductions.
Senoia spoke with an odd Spanish accent as he stood before the group. “In the next two days, I’m going to crowd a week’s work in. You’ll learn survival skills that may just save your lives someday. Each afternoon we’ll go to The Range for small arms and rifle training. You’d be surprised what you can learn in two sessions.”
Jorge stood. “You’ll learn traditional survival techniques, but I’ve asked Senoia to include Urban Survival Training as well.”
The next morning they were up at five and trekking through the thick Nevada County forests. The canopy was so thick that at times it looked dark as dusk. Senoia demonstrated fire-making techniques, gear, shelters, and communication.
Adam turned to Zack. “Pay attention. We may need to start a fire in Berkeley someday.”
Zack smiled. “It’s interesting. Maybe we should try this for real…two weeks in the forest on our own.”
“As long as I can bring my iPad,” Adam said.
By late afternoon, they were at the range.
“Jorge has arranged a private session for us,” Senoia said. He opened two cases and placed a rifle and a handgun on a table. Holding the pistol, he said, “This is a Sig/Sauer P299.” He went on to describe its characteristics and demonstrated its component parts. Next, he picked up the rifle. “This is the Browning BAR Mark II with a 2.5X fixed power scope. You’re gonna love this.”
First, Senoia had each student put on ear protection and then walk to the firing line. Zack was nervous but excited. He grasped the P229, placed his finger on the trigger, and squeezed. The power of the weapon and its recoil stunned him. He imagined what such power might do to the human body. The Browning BAR, too, was powerful, and Zack’s accuracy with the weapon surprised him.
Senoia stood above Zack. “You have a real talent with that weapon, son.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Zack said.
“I don’t think so,” Senoia said. “Some people just have it.”
Zack flushed with embarrassment, imagining what Denise might say.
After expending hundreds of rounds, they adjourned for dinner, went to bed early, and awakened the next morning just before sunrise.
Zack groaned as he rose. His body ached from the unfamiliar activity.
On the morning trek, Zack, Adam, and two others carried back packs and the Browning BAR. After three hours they were taking a break and listening to Senoia as he described the local fauna and flora. Suddenly, Adam was on his feet racking a round into the chamber of his rifle and pointing it to the west.
Zack followed the line of site to a doe and its fawn in the distance. Adam was concentrating on the shot when Zack rammed into him just as he pulled the trigger. The deer scrambled away as Adam lay on the ground enraged.
“Are you out of your mind,” Adam shouted. “You made me miss.”
Before Zack could say anything, Senoia grabbed the front of Adam’s shirt and pulled him to his feet. “Are you nuts? This isn’t hunting season; that’s private property—you can’t hunt here…get it?”
“Sorry,” Adam said contritely. He then turned to Zack. “Thanks a lot buddy. You made me miss. I won’t forget.”
“Kill the doe or the fawn…I just don’t get it, Adam.” Zack said.
“It’s a hunting rifle, Zack,” Adam said, brushing off his clothes. “Do you think it’s just for decoration?”
“No,” Senoia said. “It’s a military arm.”
“Yes,” Zack said, “it’s for those ‘special’ people who enjoy killing innocent life. It makes me sick.”
“Pussy!” Adam said. “I like hunting, and as long as it’s legal, I’m going to get my fill.”
Zack shook his head and turned away.
Senoia took the rifle from Adam, and gave it to another student. He then took Zack aside. “Game hunting, for most, is an acquired taste. Deer hunting, especially in places like California with an overpopulation, is humane…saving deer from starvation.”
“Well, Zack said, “I don’t like it.”
“Many people don’t,” Senoia said. “Don’t read too much into it.”
Monday, after school, Zack was sitting with Ella.
“How was your weekend?” she asked.
“It was great. I learned a lot and got to shoot a handgun and a rifle.”
“I hate guns,” Ella said.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I thought you opposed gun violence, too, Zack?”
“Target shooting isn’t violent, it’s a refined skill.” He paused. “It also teaches the user about its power and potential for destruction. You should try it sometime.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I bet you anything that Adam enjoyed it.”
Zack studied Ella. “What’s with you and Adam? Water and oil.”
“Don’t do this to me, Zack. He’s your friend and I accept that. Just don’t ask me to like him.”
“But,” Zack said, “I trust you. I trust your judgment.”
Ella rubbed her nose. “Yes, at one time, you were open to me and to your parents, but lately, not so much.”
“Why do they, and now you, want to make it an all or nothing situation. I like Adam. I love the Denisovan School. Why isn’t that enough?”
Ella smiled and took his hand. “You’re a smart guy. Why are you asking questions when you already know the answers?”
“Okay—okay, but how would you like it if I tried to make decisions for you?”
“So, Zack, you’d just stand back and allow me to make a wrong…a dangerous decision?”
“No, but…”
“When you love someone, you care enough to have your say—at least one time. Beyond that, it’s nagging and destructive. You won’t find me doing that to you, but,” she paused, “if you ask the question, you’re going to get my unfiltered answer. If you don’t want to know my opinion, don’t ask.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
When Denise came to work Monday, she knocked on Lola’s door.
“Come in,” Lola said.
“Got a minute,” Denise asked.
“More than that for you, sweetheart. Take a seat.”
“I’m not going to ask about what’s going on with Zack’s treatment, but…”
“Even if I knew, and I don’t, I couldn’t tell you. He came once, and I’ve yet to see him again. I thought we got along well, so it disappoints me that he’s canceled out on me twice more.”
“What do you think is going on with him?”
Lola took a deep breath. “I think we have an extraordinarily brilliant child, I use that word advisedly, who doesn’t or won’t recognize that he has a problem. The adage is appropriate: ‘you can lead a horse to water…’”
“He was away two weekends ago, and said little or nothing about it. He knew we’d be worried. He knew or should have known that our intentions were honorable, but he just didn’t care.”
“You’re too close to the situation, and, I know Zack’s behavior hurts. Moreover, as a shrink yourself, you know that pat
ients must recognize that they have a problem first. He doesn’t.”
“We can’t sit back and do nothing,” Denise said. “Gabe’s going nuts, too.”
“You’ll just have to wait Zack out. All the alternatives I know will only make things worse.” She paused. “Has he talked with Ella?”
“Yes, but I’m not about to put her in the middle. I’m sure that if she saw something alarming, she’d tell us.”
“Jacob thinks I’m psychic, but I’m not. I’m just very good at reading people.” Lola paused and stared at Denise. “You’re holding back something. I don’t know what it is, but if it relates in any way to Zack or the problem you’re having with him, you’re doing all of us a disservice by keeping it to yourself.”
“You’re right, Lola. We became involved with Jorge Moneo and the Denisovan School on a recommendation from the Summit Program for Gifted Children. When Zack became so enamored with the program and its students, we tried to find out more about the program and its director.”
Denise paraphrased all that she and Gabe had discovered through Lenny’s efforts.
Lola paled as she listened to Denise’s recitation of the death of Jorge’s family and his activities with the ETA.”
“I know there’s more, but that’s all we have now.”
“The FBI is still involved?” Lola asked.
“Yes. The agent in charge has a thing for Jorge.”
“Jacob and I have more than a casual understanding for the murder of a family and its psychological consequences for survivors. The pain and frustration may become unbearable.”
“Jorge’s been open and accommodating. He’s always given us an out should we become concerned about the Denisovan School and its activities. He never pushed Zack one way or the other.”
“So,” Lola said, “he an honest man or he’s especially crafty and manipulative. What’s your guess?”
“I don’t know, but worrying about Zack makes me lose my objectivity, and think the worst. You freaked us out when you mentioned the word, ‘cult.’”
“I’m sorry that I did that,” Lola said. “I was speculating for a colleague, not talking to an anxious parent. It was stupid of me.”
“So, where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us in waiting, a tough approach for a family who needs to do something to help.”
“We can’t do nothing, Lola!”
“You have no choice.”
When Gabe picked up Ella to go to school with Zack Saturday, she said, “Are you sure it’s okay, Zack?”
“Don’t be such a pain in the ass, Ella. If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have invited you.”
Ella smiled. “What are they teaching today?”
“Modern European History, with a Basque orientation. You’ll get to see that history from a new perspective.”
Professor Alonso lectured until 10:00 and then Jorge took over until 11:30 when he opened the floor for questions. Almost all hands rose with questions.
Ella listened and asked a question herself. Each question and answer generated active exchanges among the students, and before Ella noticed the clock, it was almost 1 p.m.
“That was terrific,” Ella said. “If more people taught history that way…”
“I’m glad that you enjoyed it,” Zack said.
“It’s funny,” Ella said, “that while all the students had their own personalities, most have a certain sameness in their appearances.”
“They’re all Basque. To one degree or another, we share a Basque genetic profile.”
“And being Basque makes you special?” she asked.
“No more special than any ethnic group. Your family is Jewish. Don’t you identify with Jewish causes…with Israel?”
“Not so much. We’re assimilated.”
“So, when some talking head attacks the state of Israel, you don’t care?”
“No. I do care, but I can’t do anything about it.”
“The Basque people have suffered under Spain’s oppressive hand.”
Ella shook her head, “And Jews haven’t been oppressed?”
“Let’s not have a pissing contest about who has been oppressed more. Basque nationalism is alive and well at the Denisovan School. I’m sure there’s a nationalistic Israeli equivalent.”
“I’m sure there are dozens, but that’s not what concerns me, Zack.”
“Here you go again,” Zack said shaking his head. “You’re just like my parents.”
Ella smiled. “Why, thank you.” She paused. “Don’t treat me like the enemy, I’m not. I have no desire to tell you what to do or not do. That’s your business. I just want to be a part of your life.”
“You are,” Zack said. “Until I came here, you were my only confidant.”
“Promise me one thing, and one thing only,” she asked.
“Anything.”
“If anything happens that makes you feel uncomfortable, I’m your first call.”
“Got it,” Zack said as they hugged each other.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Zeru Ibarra was in her office at UCB. She had just inserted a stack of papers into her leather briefcase when someone tapped on her door. “Come in.”
Her eyes widened when General Collier’s stout uniformed body entered the room. “Why, General. What a surprise. Have a seat.”
“I haven’t seen you since the science fair. That was an amazing demonstration by Zack Berg.”
“Yes. He’s incredibly gifted.”
“It shouldn’t surprise you that we remain interested in him. He’d make a great addition to our Security and Counterintelligence Section-Q.”
“I agree, but you’re going to have difficulty with his parents, especially his mother, Denise.”
“That’s why I’m here talking with you. We need your help.”
Zeru took her briefcase from the desktop and placed it on the floor. “That puts me in a difficult position, General. Zack has joined us at the Denisovan Laboratories. My loyalties remain there.”
“We have incredible financial and logistical resources that might benefit Professor Moneo, yourself, and of course, the boy.”
“Why are you talking with me? Jorge’s your man.”
The General leaned forward. “We thought we’d get a better feel for the possibilities by talking to you first, especially if we managed to solicit your cooperation. I may be wrong, but I’m guessing the family trusts you.”
Zeru stood. “I’m afraid that you’re wasting your time, General. The Denisovan School is important to me and Jorge in ways you may not understand.”
“Don’t tell me that you are involved with the Basque craziness, too.”
The Basque craziness that you so elegantly describe is their legitimate desire for freedom, independence, and respect. I’d expect a US military officer to understand and applaud those aims.”
The General blushed. “You’re right, of course, it’s just that we suffer from tunnel vision about our work.”
Zeru grabbed her briefcase and placed it back on her desk. “I’m afraid that you’ve used up all the time I have, General.”
“The NSA is a powerful and resourceful organization. I’d be careful before I dismissed an offer from them. That may be particularly true for Professor Moneo. Remember that on issues of National Security, we have strong ties with the FBI.”
Zeru reddened with anger. “You’re threatening us with the FBI—I don’t believe it.”
The General rose from his chair and headed for the door. “You heard no threat from me, Doctor. I’m only encouraging a mutually beneficial arrangement between parties. Talk it over with Professor Moneo. I hope to hear from you soon.”
The next afternoon, when Zeru arrived at the Denisovan Laboratories, she sought out Jorge and paraphrased her conversation with General Collier.
“He actually threatened us?”
“He’d deny it, but yes, he did.”
“His, and the FBI’s threats are empty. If they had anythin
g on me or the lab, they would have shut us down. I’d be in jail or they’d deport me back to Spain.”
Zeru toyed with a lock of her hair. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to involve Adam and Zack in your extracurricular activities. It wouldn’t surprise me that we’re already under surveillance.”
“You speak as if we’re involved in nefarious activities. We’re not…I think of what we’re doing as public service.”
“You think these people care about corrupt Spanish officials?” Zeru asked.
“Nobody likes a mess, especially the American government. I want Vega and Salazar exposed for the criminals they are. Let the Americans and the Spanish government deal with them as they may.”
Jorge met with Adam and Zack after school Saturday. He handed over a folder to each. “This is what we have on Vega and Salazar. Salazar isn’t in the US at this time, but he’ll be here soon enough.”
“What should we be doing?” Adam asked.
“The Consulate General of Spain is in San Francisco on Sutter Street,” Jorge said. “For the moment, surveillance only.”
“How can we keep track of Vega?” Zack asked.
“Hack into the consulate for Vega’s schedule,” Jorge said smiling. “That shouldn’t be too difficult for you, Zack.”
“That’s going to take time,” Adam said. “We both have obligations.”
“You’ll share the surveillance. Keep detailed notes: time of day, locations, coming and going, security etc. You get it, don’t you?”
“One of you will need to make a visit to the consulate to obtain a visa, but in reality, to access their security.” He paused. “If we need to break in, and I’m hoping that’s not necessary, either of you are welcome to tackle that problem. I’ll provide support, but if it’s too much for you, I have access to specialists.”
“I’ll help you all I can,” Zack said, “but B & E is not for me.”
“I’ll think on it,” Adam said.
Jorge smiled. “You both know my philosophy. No force, no coercion. If you trust me, we start Monday.”
Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7) Page 19