THE VIRON CONSPIRACY (JAKE SCARNE THRILLERS #4)

by Lawrence de Maria

  THE

  VIRON

  CONSPIRACY

  A Novel By

  Lawrence De Maria

  THE VIRON CONSPIRACY, a novel by Lawrence De Maria

  Copyright©Lawrence De Maria 2013

  Revised 2014

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE VIRON CONSPIRACY ©2013. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced, downloaded, transmitted, reverse engineered, decompiled or stored in or introduced into any storage or retrieval system in any form or by any means, electric or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading or distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Published by St. Austin’s Press

  (305-409-0900)

  Special thanks to my website designer, Nancy Kreisler, and to

  Maryellen Alvarez and Deborah Thompson,

  whose sharp eyes and insights have improved my work.

  Dedicated to Patti, without whose love, support and faith this book

  –and others–

  would not have been possible,

  and to my sons,

  Lawrence and Christopher.

  Good men, both.

  CHAPTER 1 - CONFUCIUS SAYS

  Oahu, Hawaii

  This is nuts, Bryan Vallance thought. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  He looked up. The man standing at the head of the small classroom in the Quonset hut adjacent to the main administration building at Kaanapali Airport tapped a pointer on the table beside him.

  “May I have your attention, please,” the instructor said in a no-nonsense voice.

  The nervous banter from the eight men and women arrayed in metal seats in front of him quickly quieted. All were dressed in jeans or khakis, and light sweaters. They’d been told it might get a bit chilly at 14,000 feet over Oahu’s northern coast. Along the walls of the hut nearest the group lounged five men and one woman, all in blue jump suits. Another man, also in a jump suit, stood by a large easel next to the table.

  “My name is Colin DeLello,” the man with the pointer said, “and I am the jump master for Ohana Skydive Hawaii, as well as your instructor for the day. Before I proceed, I would like to know if all of you received the preliminary instructions to prepare you for your first tandem jump.”

  He looked expectantly at the group. They all nodded. DeLello, a trim, ruddy man with bushy eyebrows, had an air of competence about him that any group of students would appreciate. A group about to jump out of a plane wanted all the competence they could get.

  “Good. That means you should have removed all your jewelry, which can come loose during free fall. That includes earrings, necklaces, watches, pins and rings. If you forgot to leave something back at the hotel, stow it deep in your pocket. You should have also removed any piercings. You don’t look like a nose or lip ring bunch, but you may have stuff we can’t see.” He smiled. “When the canopy opens, chest straps have been known to pull nipple rings right out.”

  One of the women sitting in front of him said, “ouch.”

  “Exactly,” DeLello said. “And to get even more indelicate, harness leg straps can also do some painful things to rings in more nether regions, so to speak. Anyone still wearing something he or she is worried about can use one of the rest rooms before the jump to eliminate the chance of snagging. It goes without saying that both men and women should tie their hair up and tuck it into their helmet to avoid the possibility it might get caught in the harness. And remember, absolutely no cameras or cell phone cameras! They invariably get dropped and we don’t want to conk anyone on the head on the ground. Your company is paying for two video cameramen to jump with you to record everything. They will meet you at the aircraft. Remember to smile on the way down.”

  The door to the Quonset hut opened and another man, obviously an instructor, hurried in. There were drops of sweat on his forehead. His eyes darted across the group and settled on Vallance before he looked away.

  “Sorry,” he said, “traffic.”

  He joined his colleagues along the wall.

  “Better late than never, Matt,” DeLello said. He looked at the class. “Don’t worry. Matt is never late leaving the plane.”

  Everyone laughed and DeLello continued..

  “Now, you are probably asking yourselves, ‘Why should I jump out of a perfectly good airplane’?”

  “You got that right,” one of the novice jumpers said.

  “And my answer is always the same. It’s just so much damn fun. I can almost guarantee that for at least half of you this won’t be your only jump. You will come back for more. As for the other half – well, that’s what our insurance policy is for. Only kidding. Now, let’s get started. Steve, will you lend me a hand?”

  The instructor by the easel walked over to the table, where several packs and other parachuting paraphernalia had been laid out.

  “Steve, like all tandem skydive instructors in the United States, is an experienced skydiver with a minimum of 500 jumps and three years of skydiving experience to his name. And like all instructors he possesses a master parachute license issued by an FAA-recognized organization, such as USPA, the United States Parachute Association. Unlike the fairly lengthy courses that prepare students for solo skydiving, which involve body positioning in free fall and canopy control after the chute opens, this tandem class will only be a half hour or so. That doesn’t mean it’s not important. You know what Confucius says. ‘Man who doesn’t pay attention in skydiving class may jump to conclusion’.” There was a chorus of groans. “OK. That was pretty bad. No more jokes. Let’s begin.”

  DeLello positioned Steve the instructor facing the class.

  “You will be strapped to a tandem instructor like Steve by use of a secure harness system comprising two shoulder straps, a chest strap and leg straps. You will be strapped onto his or her chest, facing down. The tandem instructor, or master, is totally responsible for the deployment of your parachute, so all you have to do is enjoy the ride and the view. The straps and buckles are checked every day before we go home and before every jump. They are exceedingly strong.” Both DeLello and Steve tugged on various straps for emphasis. “Any one of these straps is enough to keep you tethered to your instructor, let alone five. And we’ve never had even one buckle or strap break.”

  DeLello picked up a pointer and approached the easel. He flipped over the first page. On the second page was a rough drawing that showed a small plane, with a line arching down toward the ground. Various heights were designated at specific spots on the chart.

  “This is a large group, so we will be using both our aircraft, Cessna Grand Caravans, which comfortably seat 10 each. So you will be split into groups of four, with a cameraman in each plane. You will take off and reach the drop zone together, where there will be a shuttle bus waiting to take you back here. They are the same buses that picked you up at the resort, and they will get you back there in time for a Mai Tai, which I’m sure all of you will want.”

  DeLello tapped the drawing of an airplane at the top of the chart.

  “You and your instructor will exit the plane at 14,000 feet, and free fall for 60 seconds. Your rate of descent will be
slowed, but only slightly, by a small drogue chute that pops open a second or two after you leave the aircraft. Instead of reaching a terminal velocity ….” He paused. “Usually someone makes a crack about that phrase.” He continued. “Instead of a terminal velocity of 130 miles per hour, you will be doing a leisurely 125.” That got a few laughs. “The drogue also helps keep the two of you steady and oriented. Then, after the 60 seconds, an altimeter device, called an AAD, which stands for Automatic Activation Device, activates. The AAD automatically opens the main chute at a preset altitude or after a preset time. AAD’s are normally used as a safety backup if for any reason the skydiver has not opened his chute. Believe it or not, some jumpers get so caught up in the moment or the view that they forget to deploy.”

  “You must be shitting us,” one of the students said.

  “I shit you not. But that doesn’t apply to this jump. Your tandem master has seen the view many times. He or she won’t be sightseeing. Besides, they won’t be pulling the ripcord. All the AAD’s have been set for 5,000 feet so that your chutes will deploy at approximately the same time. Our AAD’s are the very latest electronic-pyrotechnic design, with built-in computers that calculate time, altitude and vertical speed very accurately. All have been checked and calibrated for this jump. We’ve never had a malfunction and, of course, you have the added security of a master skydiver on your back who can deploy either the main or reserve chute in a nanosecond.”

  DeLello next tapped a section on the chart that showed some deployed chutes with little stick figures under them.

  “The main chute, as you know, is shaped like a large wing and can be steered by your instructor. The next four-minute canopy ride to the ground will be one of the best experiences of your lives. You will have a view of Oahu that will take your breath away. Today is a particularly clear day, so you should be able to see the other Hawaiian Islands. Keep your eye on the ocean, both on the flight to the drop zone and on your way down. It’s May, so it’s still whale-watching season. There may be some humpbacks around. You should also be able to spot Diamond Head and Pearl Harbor. Landings are usually very gentle, like stepping off a low curb. I’ll explain about that later. Now, I want a volunteer to help Steve show all of you how the attachments work.”

  The head of the company’s biofuels division, a woman named Penny, stood up and the harness demonstration began. Everyone paid attention.

  ***

  Bryan Vallance stood in the doorway of the Cessna and looked out at the amazing vista. The flight up in the prop plane had been noisy and a bit bumpy, but he’d experienced much worse, on much bigger aircraft than the Cessna. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. Reminded him of the joyrides he took as a boy back in Illinois with some buddies who were crop dusters.

  The plane leveled off and was making its run over the drop zone. The pilot yelled something back from the cockpit and one of the instructors said, “Roger, that.”

  Vallance and his instructor would be the first to jump. He was nervous, but not exceedingly so. A 62-year-old chief executive of a $90 billion corporation isn’t scared by many things. And, besides, he knew he couldn’t act nervous in front of his subordinates. He was always bragging to them how he was in such great shape. He smiled. I’d like to fire the idiot subordinate who came up with this cockamamie idea. Employee bonding was one thing. But why not kayaking, tennis or even horseback riding? Should have arranged a golf tournament. The two courses at the Turtle Bay Princess Resort and Conference Center, where the BVM Corporation was holding its annual corporate retreat, were world-renowned. Vallance, a seven-handicap golfer who had a respectable finish in the Pebble Beach Pro-Am just two months earlier, had never played a Hawaiian course. Tomorrow, for sure, he promised himself. He felt a tap on his helmet.

  “Ready?”

  It was his instructor, the fellow named Matt who came to the instructional class late. Unlike the other instructors, Matt wasn’t the talkative type. In fact, he seemed a bit diffident, maybe even tense. All business. That was fine with Vallance. When jumping out of a plane at 14,000 feet, he wanted the person on his back to take things seriously.

  “Ready,” Vallance answered, in a voice more confident than he felt.

  Matt’s arms tightened around Vallance and the instructor pulled him out the door sideways. Vallance got a quick glimpse of the Cessna shooting up and away before he realized that they were falling. The initial sensation was not unlike the first drop of a big roller coaster, but it quickly subsided and he soon felt, well, weightless. Only the rush of air in his face reminded him that he was dropping to earth like a rock.

  Hell, this isn’t so bad, Vallance thought. In fact, it’s pretty damn exhilarating. He paused a moment to look out over the ocean and the green hills of Oahu.

  “This is great,” he shouted.

  “Forgive me,” the instructor said.

  “What for? I’m having the time of my life.”

  "O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee.”

  “What’s that?” Vallance said. “I didn’t quite get that.”

  “And I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of Heaven, and the pains of Hell.”

  The words sounded vaguely familiar to Vallance.

  “But most of all because I love Thee, my God.”

  Vallance recognized the Act of Contrition. But the words are different from what he’s been taught in Sunday School. Must be the Roman Catholic version. Maybe it’s part of the skydiving ritual, a little airborne hazing, he thought. I bet one of the office wits put the instructor up to it. Whoever it was, it was certainly something he could do without.

  “Who art all good and deserving of all my love.”

  Vallance looked at the second hand on his watch, which he stubbornly decided not to put in his pocket. It was a “Bubba Watson” Richard Mille 055. With a bezel nearly as hard as diamond, it was encased in rubberized titanium and was able to withstand accelerations of 500 G’s, the salesman had told him. Not that Vallance wanted to put it to the test. It had cost him $105,000 — Kate said he was crazy to spend that kind of money on a watch — and he would be damned if he’d put it in his pocket. Anyway, it wasn’t likely anyone would upbraid the C.E.O.

  They had been free-falling for 55 seconds. The ground seemed a lot closer. He felt vaguely disquieted and looked nervously for the other skydivers. He spotted two of them off to his right, along with the club photographer, who was wearing a helmet cam. He relaxed. They were all basically at the same altitude, trailing the little drogue chutes. None of the main chutes had popped. Any second now the AAD’s would open the chutes at 5,000 feet. That meant they had already dropped about 9,000 feet. The scientific side of his brain wondered if the instruments were so finely calibrated that all the main chutes would pop at the same time.

  He saw the main chutes on the other tandem teams deploy, as well as that of the photographer, who pulled his ripcord manually a second later. It gave them the illusion of rocketing upwards. Vallance instinctively braced for chute deployment, although he’d been told it wouldn’t be too bad because the gull-wing canopies didn’t create as much instant drag as full chutes would have.

  “ I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."

  They kept falling. And falling. Vallance began to pick up objects on the ground that were only specks a moment before. Houses, cars, people, even a dog. A dog! They were getting really low. It was obvious to Vallance that the automatic deployment had malfunctioned. A sharp trill of fear went through his bowels. When was Matt going to do it manually himself?

  “Our Father, Who art in Heaven.”

  Jesus! The goddamn instructor WAS praying.

  Now they were well below the level of the surrounding mountains.

  “The reserve! Pull the reserve!”

  “Hallowed Be Thy Name.”

  “Pull the chute! Pull the chute!”

  Below them, close enough so that it looked like he could reach out a
nd touch it, was a baseball diamond, with a game in progress.

  “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will be Done.”

  “Nooooooooooooooo!”

  CHAPTER 2 - OUT AT THIRD

  On the mound, Joey Hirano was protecting a one-run lead in the top of the ninth inning for Kilani High against arch rival Moanalua.

  Joey, Kilani’s ace southpaw, was working on a three-hitter. The lefty checked the runner on first base, who had worked an unforgivable two-out walk out of him on a strike the dumb umpire had called a ball. OK. So it was borderline. He was angry at himself. Walks always came back to bite you on the ass in a close game, especially in late innings. The runner juked off the bag. One more step, Joey thought, and I’ll pick you off, you turkey, and end this sucker. He looked in to the catcher for the sign. Slider. Joey’s best pitch. It was tougher on right-handed batters than on lefties, which was why his coach left him in to face Moanalua’s right-handed cleanup hitter. If the high-schoolers weren’t using aluminum bats, Joey knew his wicked, darting slider would be even more effective. He’d be breaking wooden bats off at the handle just like his idol, the great Mariano Rivera of the New York Yankees.

  Using a quick slide step to discourage the runner from stealing, Joey broke a nasty slider in at the hands of the batter, who initially thought it was a fastball right down the middle, couldn’t stop his swing. But he got just enough of the ball to pop it up. The catcher flung off his mask and sprinted for the ball, which was heading foul between home and first base. The first baseman had a better angle and called the catcher off. Joey was also looking at the flight of the ball in the cloudless sky. He spotted several dark specks under two small planes whose engines sounded like lawn mowers. Then he turned his attention back to the ball, which drifted into the stands, far out of the reach of the first baseman. Damn!

  Everyone went back to their positions. The umpire threw Joey another ball. He was rubbing it up when he heard the “Nooooooooooooooo.” He assumed it was more ragging from the Moanulua bench jockies. They had been riding him all game, trying to distract him. Bush leaguers.