Desert Assassin

by Don Drewniak

  CHAPTER TEN

  FROZEN FOR AT LEAST A MINUTE, Morgan grabbed the shovel and scooped shovel full after shovel full of sand into the container. The sand was from the area where Assassin had been found. He closed and locked the container as the crew members gawked in amazement. Williams remained expressionless.

  “Go ahead, Major, tell me I screwed up.”

  “None of us saw this coming.” While he didn’t feel sorry in the least for Morgan, he understood the pain that he had to be enduring at the moment. There would have been no point in rubbing salt into the wound.

  Morgan sent his men back to the helicopters. Once they were out of earshot, he said, “I appreciate your not shitting on me in front of the men.”

  “Maybe not to the same degree as you, but I had a lot invested in this.”

  Morgan nodded. “Again thanks. Give me a few days and I’ll see that you’ll find a deposit in your Albuquerque bank account as payment for the meteorite. You’ll find it more than fair. A couple of my men will stop by the van to pick it up and we will clear out of here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Any idea of what the hell happened?”

  There was a long pause before Williams responded. “Henderson and Ling are better equipped than me to answer that, but I’m not sure even they have any idea. Did you ever read H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds?” Williams didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “Maybe our bacteria got it.”

  There was no need for either man to say anything more.

  Williams made his way back to the General’s helicopter. They then headed back to Williams’ “trailer park.” Once returned, the General called a meeting in Williams’ house. For the General, it was a celebration. It was a little less so for Rappaport and anything but a celebration for Williams, Ling and Henderson.

  Looking at Ling and Henderson, the General asked, “What the hell happened?”

  Ling responded, “At the moment, we need some time to sort things out. Too much has happened too fast. We have an idea, a long shot at best, but we need to take a break before we go back over the feeds.”

  “This is an order,” barked the General, “change into civilian clothes and get your asses into Bill’s SUV in thirty minutes. Excuse my French, Lieutenant.”

  Well less than an hour later, the five of them walked through the door of Killer Two’s Diner. Killer Two raced out of the kitchen to greet them. Williams introduced Rappaport, Ling and Henderson as “old friends.”

  The General looked at Williams and said, “Don’t worry, Bill, this one is on me.”

  Williams smiled and said, “I’ll believe it when I see your wallet.”

  After placing his left hand against three empty pockets, he produced the requested wallet and was greeted by applause from Williams and Rappaport. “Four of those Killer Chicken beers and your finest Pinot Grigio.”

  “I guarantee Alice will get Killer’s finest Pinot as I bet it’s his only one,” laughed Williams.

  “As long as it’s chilled and wet, I don’t care,” replied Henderson.

  A different waitress from the one the General had previously seen brought out the drinks. She was demonstrably better looking than the first one. The General took a close look at her. As soon as she left, Williams whispered to the General, “Careful, she’s one of Killer’s daughters.”

  “Anyone object to steaks?” asked the General.

  “Can I see if there is any cash in your wallet?” asked Williams. Laughter erupted.

  Once the order had been taken and the first round of drinks was nearing completion, Killer Two once again emerged from the kitchen. Looking at Williams, he asked, “What has been going on at your place, Bill?”

  “Field maneuvers by the Army.”

  “I don’t think so, I bet another flying saucer like the one in Roswell crashed.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Killer, but it’s just field maneuvers. Should be wrapping up in a day or two.”

  “Okay, Bill, I understand. I’ll keep it under my hat.” He turned to go back back into the kitchen as Kowalski was grappling with Giant Baba. The match had taken place in Japan and the broadcast was in Japanese. At the conclusion, the referee raised the hands of both Kowalski and Baba. No decision.

  Killer Two returned. “Killer could’ve mopped the mat with the Jap, but he didn’t want to embarrass him in front of all the Japs in the arena.”

  The General caught a grimace by Henderson. As soon as Killer Two was back in the kitchen, he leaned over to her and said, “You have to understand that feelings still run deep with some. Killer Two may have had older relatives who were killed in the War.”

  “Thank you, General, I hadn’t considered that.”

  The General then ordered a second round as Kowalski was back wrestling in the United States. Shortly thereafter, lunch was served. Unfortunately for Killer Two, a fair number of customers materialized and his flying saucer crash interrogation had to wait for another day.

  Over two hours after they had entered the diner, the five of them headed back to Williams’ property. As they stepped out of the Pathfinder, Henderson addressed the General, “Would it be possible to have a six o’clock, I mean an eighteen hundred hours, meeting?”

  The General smiled, “My pleasure.”

  Williams went into the house and spent a good portion of the afternoon napping. The General and Rappaport did the same in their sleeper. Henderson and Ling retreated to the van where they poured over the recorded feeds and compared notes. By six o’clock they were prepared for the meeting. As they walked into the house, “The Wanderer” was blaring from out on the porch.

  “Let me guess,” asked Henderson, “Dion and The Belmonts.”

  “Sorry, you lose the grand prize. It’s Dion backed up by the Del Satins.”

  “The Del Satins?”

  Williams went on to explain why Dion dropped his association with the Belmonts despite their initial successes together. All the while, Ling looked at the two as if they were speaking an alien language.

  Before saying anything, Henderson passed a slip of paper to Williams. It contained a single question, “Is there any chance the house is bugged?”

  Williams shook his head back and forth. He then turned down the volume of the music as the group assembled in the living room. Conspicuously absent were any drinks.

  Henderson initiated the conversation. “Stan and I have come to believe that Assassin has more, quite a bit more, innate intelligence than we previously believed.”

  Her use of “has” rather than “had” immediately caught the attention of the three combat veterans.

  “Forget for a moment what Assassin is acquiring from its prey. We suspect its actions as of late have been more – much more – than just instinct and we have grossly underestimated its rate of development. Every indication is that intelligence of some sort is programmed into its genes or what may be the equivalent of genes. And while in terms of the time involved in human development, it is an infant, developmentally it probably is the equal of a human teenager or even a young adult.”

  “If I understand where you are going with this,” said Rappaport, “you are saying that Assassin planned its escape.”

  “Yes, I don’t think it was coincidence that it broke away at nightfall and changed its course.”

  “By referring to it in the present tense, are you implying that you think it is still alive?” continued Rappaport.

  “Like sea anenomes!” exclaimed the General.

  “Somewhat, but if our suspicions are correct, it would have to be on a scale far beyond what they are capable of doing,” replied Henderson. “Remember, we are dealing with an alien species of which we know virtually nothing.”

  “So much for my H.G. Wells based theory that our Earth bacteria did it in,” said Williams.

  “As far-fetched as it sounds, Stan and I are not dismissing the possibility that it replicated itself and then somehow killed, assassinated if you will, its other self.”

 
Rappaport added, “If you are correct and it split once, in theory it can continue to split as can its offspring, if offspring is the right word.”

  “In theory,” said Ling.

  “If it is alive and in the hills, it will have access to virtually unlimited vegetation and, therefore, the potential to rapidly increase in size,” continued Henderson. “Also, a wide variety of prey will be at its disposal. If it does increase its size, in theory it should be able to attack just about any animals of its choice. This includes human beings.”

  “Good lord!” exclaimed the General.

  The conversation, sometimes a debate, about whether Assassin was alive or not carried on for another twenty minutes or thereabouts. Noticeably absent from the discussion was Williams who appeared content to do no more than listen. That ended when the General said, “What do we do next?”

  Williams got up out of his chair, walked a few steps to where he could look at the other four without having to turn from one to the other. “The General was right, we should have killed it early on. But that is now irrelevant to the present situation. I don’t think we can take the chance of assuming it is dead. Even if there is only one chance in a hundred that it’s out there, we have to find it and destroy it, and as quickly as possible.”

  “You are right, Bill,” said the General.

  “Bear with me on this. We have to assume that Morgan is still monitoring the area. If we go out in force looking for Assassin, he will return and from what I’ve learned about him over the past few days, he’ll revert to plan one – capture. Also, I have no doubt he’ll freeze us out.”

  “Correct, Bill. His ego has taken a beating and I’m sure whoever is pulling his strings is pissed as all hell right now,” said the General.

  Williams took a long pause. “Here’s my plan. Tomorrow morning, General, you pull out all your men and equipment, except for what I’ll need, and leave.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Williams ignored the comment and looked squarely at the General. “Again, General, this is just my idea, nothing more. Clear out. You and Jim go back to whatever you were doing. Alice and Stan leave with you, but grant them a two week leave and send them off to Vegas.”

  Ling was stunned and needed to exercise all the restraint he could to not show any emotion.

  “Las Vegas?” asked the General. “Why not just send Alice back to Florida.”

  Trying to look both insulted and hurt while at the same time batting her eyes at the General, Henderson said, “Are you forgetting, General, that I am Army – career Army?”

  “Career Army? Bucking for a promotion, Lieutenant?”

  She flashed a Sophia Loren type smile at the General.

  Williams thought, “I hope he just didn’t wet himself.”

  The General was speechless. Ling was ecstatic.

  “Two reasons for Vegas,” said Williams. “One, again we have to assume that Morgan will be keeping tabs on all of us. Let Alice and Stan paint the town – casinos, shows. That will help disarm Morgan. Two, we may need them at a moment’s notice.”

  “That leaves just you here,” replied the General.

  “Me and Fowler.”

  “Fowler? Who is Fowler?” queried Henderson.

  Williams proceeded to give her a brief, but detailed, description. For the first time, she became fully aware of just how deadly an individual her former bedmate had to be. “How many more friends like him do you have?”

  “Associates, not friends.”

  “How do you plan to work this, Bill?” asked the General.

  “Right after dark tomorrow, I’m going to take a circular route to get to Fowler. I’ll have no problem finding him. As soon as I do, we’ll go after Assassin. If Stan and Alice’s speculations are correct, I’m betting that Assassin is in the hills and will need recovery time before it goes after bigger prey and before it can replicate again. You’ll need to have forces ready to move in if things go wrong, especially if I’m wrong about how long it may take Assassin to replicate. And you’ll need to be ready to move in ahead of Morgan if he figures out what is happening.”

  “Anyone have a better plan?” asked the General.

  There was nothing but silence.

  “Then let’s go back to the diner.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AS THE GENERAL, RAPPAPORT AND LING headed back to the trailer, Henderson remained in the house. “There is a third reason for Las Vegas, isn’t there? You know.”

  Williams nodded.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Not to the General and Jim. Stan’s a good man, Alice, and he is everything that I could never be to you.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked out of the house while wiping away tears.

  Much to the group’s disappointment, Killer Two had taken a rare break away from the diner. As a result, they had one round of drinks, a quick dinner and prepared to leave. As they were walking out, Henderson noticed Williams taking a long look around the inside of the diner; almost as if he was saying good-bye.

  As they pulled into Williams’ driveway, the General’s men were preparing for a morning departure. The General subtly let it be known that only he and Williams were returning to the house. The two long-time friends spent two hours trying to go over as many contingencies as possible, especially with respect to communications.

  The General concluded the conversation by asking Williams if he was sure that he didn’t want at least two or three additional men.

  “Positive.”

  “I’ll make sure you get the best information that I can possibly provide. Rest assured the bastard won’t intercept it. See you in the morning.”

  At 9:00AM, the General, Rappaport, Ling, Henderson, the pilot and one of the staff sergeants left for Albuquerque in the General’s helicopter. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the troops left in a caravan.

  Ling and Henderson boarded a commercial flight bound for Las Vegas from Albuquerque International Airport late in the afternoon. Both were in uniform. They had each booked a room in the same hotel, though more often than not they planned to share a room.

  Williams was a meticulous planner. It had helped to keep him alive on more than one occasion. As a result, he had concocted a plan for his exit that had the General shaking his head. An old Ford SUV was loaded with all the equipment, supplies and weapons requested by Williams and Fowler. It was driven by one of the Generals most trusted men to an area two miles the other side of Killer Two’s Diner. The driver left the keys tucked behind the right front tire and walked to the diner parking lot.

  Meanwhile, Williams drove his Pathfinder to the diner, placed the keys under the front seat and enjoyed an evening meal and the company of Killer Two.

  “Where are your friends, Bill?”

  “They left.”

  “They were Army, right?”

  Williams smiled.

  “Bet so are you.”

  William said nothing in response.

  The big man leaned over the counter and whispered, “Where did they take it, Area 51?”

  “Take what?”

  “Ah, I thought so. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”

  “You know, Killer, several people who couldn’t keep quiet about Roswell mysteriously disappeared.”

  “You’re shitting me, right?”

  Williams paused for what seemed like eternity to Killer Two and then said, “There was no UFO here in the desert, just a weather balloon.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Bill.”

  Meal finished, including a second cup of coffee, Williams said, “Well, Killer, I’m heading back to play some music and have some decent Merlot.”

  “Hey, the stuff I serve is top shelf.”

  Williams laughed, “Yah, right out of the best five liter boxes you can buy.”

  Killer Two laughed in return.

  Williams began his walk. A minute later, he watched his Pathfinder being driven away. “Perfect timing,” he thought.

  When the driver en
tered the house, he found several bottles of wine on the kitchen counter and beer in the refrigerator. Before doing anything else, he turned on the music as he had been directed to do. As “Speedoo” by the Cadillacs began to play, he said to himself, “I can’t believe anyone can listen to this stuff, but what a helluva great assignment this is.” He then walked past the wine and searched the kitchen until he found two bottles of scotch. Smiling, he said, “This is big bucks a bottle stuff.”

  Less than a half-hour after he left the diner, Williams was in the Ford and on his way to rendezvous with Fowler.

  Fowler, meanwhile, had pulled everything back from his nest to the well-covered ATV and then returned to the truck. He was sound asleep when his cell phone rang at 3:33AM. He heard a password which only he and Williams knew. Both of them understood that trying to find one another in the dark would be impossible. Williams supplied coded coordinates for his location and tried to get some sleep.

  Fowler found it impossible to fall back to sleep. As a result, he packed up everything and waited for the first sliver of light. He found Williams fifty-three minutes later.

  Before saying a word, Williams reached into a cooler and handed Fowler a container of orange juice and “real” food. “Here are some sandwiches from Killer Two’s Diner.”

  “Killer Two a real person?”

  “He sure is. Owns a diner not too far from my place. He’s about six-four, pushing three hundred pounds and tried to make it as a wrestler years ago.”

  “Why didn’t you bring him along?”

  Williams laughed. Free to speak, he detailed everything from the spotting of the meteor to his rendezvous with Fowler.

  Fowler said not a word throughout the monologue, but then fired a bevy of questions at Williams. Included was the most important, “If it’s alive, how the hell do you expect to find it?”

  “If the General’s resources come up with anything, he’ll let us know.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HALFWAY DURING THE SHORT FLIGHT from Albuquerque to Las Vegas, Henderson said, “Stan, there is something you should know.”