As Ryan pulled the green government car up to the guard shack at the National Cemetery he rolled down his window, allowing the hot and muggy summer air into the air-conditioned interior. He flashed his naval ID; and Niles, his National Archives card, which indicated he was the equivalent of a four-star general. The guard waved them through. Instead of taking the main road that led to the cemetery’s parking area, Ryan followed the directions Niles indicated and instead drove directly to the old mansion. As they approached the house on the hill, Niles was thrilled to see it once again, not only because of its historical significance, but because he knew this was the very first Event Group Complex, housing the very first discoveries from the early, heady days of the Group’s formation by Teddy Roosevelt through the administration of Woodrow Wilson.
The nineteenth-century mansion seems out of place amid the more than 250,000 military grave sites that stretch out around it. Yet, when construction began in 1802, the estate had been intended as a living memorial to George Washington. It had been built by the first president’s adopted grandson, George Washington Parke Custis, and eventually became the home of one of the most beloved men in American history, Robert E. Lee, and his wife, Mary Anna Custis. They had lived at the house until 1861, when the Civil War broke out. During the succeeding occupation of Arlington, several bases were constructed on the 1,100-acre site, including what would later become Fort Meyer. The property was eventually confiscated for the official reason of back taxes, but many influential people saw it as a punishment for Robert E. Lee for his participation in the rebellion. It became a cemetery in 1864.
As they went past the many-columned facade of the mansion, they followed the drive around to the back of the property. They saw several National Parks guards eyeing them. They drove directly to the maintenance shed adjacent to the back of the grounds, entering its open double doors. Once they were inside, the doors closed automatically and several dim lights came to life around them. Ryan reached to open his seat belt but was stopped by Niles, whose hand eased over and grabbed his arm as a hidden speaker gave an order.
“Please remain in your vehicle, Lieutenant Ryan.”
Ryan grinned and looked around the dimly lit shed. He could see no one. “I take it we’re in for more Event Group spooky crap?” he asked Niles.
Niles just shrugged and let go of Ryan’s arm.
Suddenly Ryan felt his stomach lurch as the dirt floor of the maintenance shed began to descend into the ground. He couldn’t help but become a little queasy as he watched the sides of on unlit giant elevator shaft quickly lower the car into the Virginia hillside.
“Don’t like it, do you, Mr. Ryan? It’s a lot harder when you don’t know it’s coming and some wise guy starts messing with you. Stomach a little upset?”
“Okay, I’m sorry for the barrel roll. I won’t do it again. I get your point.”
Niles smiled in the darkness surrounding them.
The elevator finally came to rest 1,700 feet below ground. As the lights of level one came into view, Ryan could see two men in Event Group coveralls awaiting the car. Then the two security men came forward to open their doors, inviting Niles and Ryan to step into the very first Event Group compound, which had been built in 1916.
“Welcome to the depository, sir.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. This is Lieutenant Junior Grade Ryan; he’s one of your security department officers.”
Ryan nodded his head and glanced around the first level. The cement walls were clean and white in the overhead fluorescents and looked as if they were well maintained.
A lance corporal came forth and wrote the names of the visitors onto a clipboard. “Where will you be going today, Director Compton?”
“Archives. I take it the old Cray is up and working?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Golding keeps to a rather strict maintenance schedule.”
“Good, good.”
“Will you be going to level seventeen today?”
“No, we’ll not be touring today, just research,” Niles answered, even though he would have loved to show Ryan some of the first discoveries of the Event Group. Not the Ark of the Great Flood, which had been moved to the Nellis facility, or the other large finds like that, but the smaller ones such as the body—replete with armor—of Genghis Khan, or the mummified corpse of Cochise, the Apache leader thought to have been secretly hidden away by his people. Just the samples of the original plague from the Dark Ages would be enough to scare the bejesus out of poor Ryan. But that would have to wait for now, as they were desperately short of time.
“Very well, this way, sir,” the lance corporal said.
Niles and Ryan fell into step behind the two security men. They walked down a corridor beyond which the secrets of worlds past surrounded them.
UNITED STATES NAVAL SHIPYARD (DECOMMISSIONED) NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
As Carl drove among the old docks, he could see his country’s naval history as it was scrapped: cruisers, tin cans, and frigates were being dismantled and sold for recycling. There was nothing sadder to a naval man than seeing these magnificent ships meeting such an inglorious end.
Upon arriving in New Orleans, they saw a city that was still rebounding from the hurricane of ’05. The people had returned in record numbers to rebuild to try and make the Big Easy the city it once was. The U.S. Navy had helped out by positioning ships earmarked for the scrapyard here, their part in easing the rampant unemployment of the damaged city.
As Carl counted down the numbers painted on the sides of the buildings, he saw that most of them were now rundown and dilapidated. They had gone unrepaired while the U.S. Navy decommissioned the entire dock area. The navy was now in the process of turning over the acreage to the money-strapped city.
“There it is,” Danielle said, as she pointed out the large building coming up on their right.
Carl eased their rental car into a space that was crowded with old ship parts and skeletons of boats of all kinds. Some were navy, whereas others were nondescript and nothing more than junk. They could hear the barely audible thump of heavy metal music coming from inside the building in which they had been searching.
“What an awful place for your navy to put a man. Did you say he was once a master chief in your SEAL unit?” she asked.
Carl walked up to a large steel door and slammed his fist against it several times, making a loud banging that they could hear echo inside. “Still is a master chief and the meanest son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my life,” he said turning back toward Danielle. “He was a SEAL before it was glamorous to be one. He was in on the Son Tay raid in ’70 before I was even born.”
“That was where your Special Forces tried to free your prisoners of war?”
He was impressed with her knowledge. “That’s right,” he said, banging again on the steel door, but keeping his eyes on the woman.
“I did my thesis on colonialism and the French involvement in Southeast Asia, particularly Vietnam. You look surprised.”
“I admit, I may have underestimated you.”
“Score one for the enemy,” she said, her own eyes locked on his.
Carl stepped back from the large metal door and looked around.
“Go away, this is government property, dickwad,” said a voice from the other side of the door.
“That’s Master Chief Jenks all right, not a good word to say to anyone,” Carl said as he stepped back up to the door. “Watch that mouth, Chief. You’re addressing a United States naval officer!”
“I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s John Paul Fucking Jones, get the hell out of here. This is my project and I let in who I want.”
Danielle placed her hand over her mouth, hiding her smile.
“Told you, Father Flanagan he’s not,” Carl said jokingly, then turned back to the closed door. “All right then, Chief, how about there’s a lady out here who needs to use the head; she’s been on a plane for three and a half hours.”
“Lady? She good lookin’?”
Carl turned to look at Danielle. “Gorgeous,” he said as he quickly turned away from her.
There was silence on the other end for about two minutes, and then they heard the hum of an electric motor and the music inside came blaring out of the opening door. “Welcome to the Jungle,” a song by Guns N’ Roses, drove Carl back a step.
The music was lowered. After their eyes adjusted they saw they were looking at a giant tarp that had been hung from the old rafters. It covered most of the interior of the building from view. A man in dirty overalls approached them, down a set of stairs. He was wiping his greasy hands on a red rag.
“Who the hell are you and where’s this woman?” At that moment the man caught sight of Danielle. “Fuck me three ways from Sunday, you were right, she’s a looker.”
“The navy never managed to tame that filthy mouth of yours, huh?” Carl said.
The master chief looked him over, and then the light of recognition lit the older man’s eyes like a lantern.
“I’ll be dipped in whale shit. Toad?”
Carl turned red at the mention of his nickname, but grabbed the master chief just the same and hugged him.
“Commander Toad to you, you slimy bastard,” he said.
The two men hugged and patted each other on the back as Danielle watched. Then Jenks pushed the younger man away suddenly.
“Hey, you didn’t turn gay on me, did you, boy? Could have sworn you grabbed my ass there,” he said as he smiled at Carl, then at Danielle.
“No I didn’t, and that’s not very PC of you. Chief Jenks.” He gestured toward his companion. “This is Danielle, she’s—” he hesitated for a split second, “she’s a friend of mine.”
Jenks looked her over, his eyes lingering on her chest a moment longer than necessary. He continued smiling but didn’t offer his hand.
“As I said, she’s a looker all right,” he stated flatly. He looked accusingly at Carl. “She’s also a spook, I can smell it. You should watch the company you hang out with, Toad,” he said as he slapped Carl on the arm and walked away.
Carl frowned at Danielle. “He has a nose for people,” he whispered, and then called toward Jenks, who had gone back to wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “She’s not a spy, Chief, she’s in the same line of work as me.”
Jenks stopped but didn’t turn. “And that is?” “Let’s just say I’m still in the navy and we’re the good guys and leave it at that, okay?”
Jenks finally met his eyes again. “Okay, Toad, you’re a good guy. Now what the fuck do you want?”
“We came to see your project,” Carl said.
“You’re not getting it, so go away. Hell, it’s not even finished and probably won’t be before the navy shit cans the project and me.”
“I may be able to help you there, Jenksy, now; just let us see the damned thing.”
Jenks put his left hand on his hip, then removed his dirty white saucer cap and ran a still-filthy right hand through his crew-cut gray hair. Then he reached into his overall pocket and withdrew a stub of a cigar. Carl smiled, as these were signs that told him the man was relaxing.
“All right, but you’re not getting her. I’ve still got major logistical concerns here; she won’t be ready for river trials for …hell, maybe never.” Jenks started for the giant tarpaulin covering three-quarters of the building. “Unless you have a check on you for about five and half million bucks.”
Carl began to follow Jenks. Danielle came up close to his side. “How cute, your nickname was Toad?”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as he stepped around a large empty crate. It was stenciled with a bright red logo that had several lines painted on it, depicting a bright light. It read laser device, handle with care.
“Come on, why did they give you that name?” she asked, smiling and ignoring Carl’s curious glance at the empty crate.
“Because the stupid bastard used to jump six feet in the air every time ordnance went off around him in training, that’s why,” Jenks said as he started to pull the tarp aside. Then he stopped and looked at Danielle. “But he was still the best damned SEAL I ever trained and, as I hear it from people, he’s the best there ever was, so as you can see, he worked out that little problem with loud noises he had when he was a kid.” He pulled hard on the tarp. “Ain’t that right, Toad?”
Carl smiled embarrassedly as the tarp was pulled away. His smile faded as he looked up and saw for the first time the master chief’s project.
“Goodness,” was all Danielle could utter.
“Damn,” Carl mumbled as they stepped into the mad scientist’s naval workshop of wonders to take in a gleaming jewel hidden away in a city that had come violently close to being deleted from the American landscape.
The vessel looked like something taken straight out of a science-fiction movie. The nose was enclosed and comprised mostly of glass except for the framing. It was shaped like a boat in the bow but that was where the resemblance ended. Except for the tri-hull shape of its body, the vessel looked more like a sleek submarine. It was over 130 feet long and was sectioned in twenty-two-foot compartments. Some areas were open on the top at the midway point, as an upper deck with seating around the gunwales. It had a high observation tower amidships that rose forty feet into the air, which included the ship’s radar and antenna domes above the crow’s nest. The vessel was gleaming white. Toward the stern, USS Teacher was in blue cursive and punctuated by a large illustration of a woman’s eye, with the brow perfectly and beautifully arched over it. Large portholes, six-foot rectangles of thick glass, ran along the length of each section, both above the waterline and below. At the bottom of each section were four small protrusions that looked like the water jets of a speedboat.
Carl climbed a scaffold so he could see inside the glass nose and make out some of the command bridge. There were large chairs for the command pilot and a seat for a copilot. The interior of the bridge was dark save for a few glowing instrument lights.
“She’s beautiful, Jenks,” Carl said, admiring the composite graphite hull.
The master chief smiled and then looked hard at Danielle.
“She is that,” she said quickly as Jenks grunted satisfaction with her late response. “But why did you name her Teacher?” she asked.
“I don’t know, because she’s built to teach, I guess … plus it was an old Jethro Tull song I liked, you know, I thought it was cool,” he said, lowering his head, waiting for them to laugh at his mention of the old rock group.
“She’s a river craft? She’s long and looks too big to navigate tight waterways,” Carl said as he came down from the metal scaffolding.
Jenks tapped the composite hull. “Let me tell you something, Toad, this baby only draws six and a half feet of water. She rides high but is capable of taking on ten thousand pounds of water ballast. She has a whole section in the middle there that lowers deeper into the water by telescoping her hull by fifteen feet for observation purposes. She has an enclosed two-man submersible and an observation diving bell. In her stern housing, she has fifteen different unmanned, radio-controlled probes for underwater research. She has cabin space for fifty-one people. Her galley is better equipped than any vessel in the navy. She’s totally sealed and air-conditioned. Her electronics suite is state-of-the-art, and she has three labs on board and room for one more if we clear out some storage lockers. She has a glass-enclosed live well that holds five thousand gallons of water and is fully oxygenated. The sections can be separately maneuvered by independent water jets to match the tight turns involved in river operation, thanks to the expanding rubber gaskets between the sections; and the water jets are controlled by computers so accurate she can bring her bow all the way around and kiss her own ass. She can be dismantled and flown anywhere in the world and be in the water ready for action within twenty-four hours. Each section is light enough to be carried by a Blackhawk or Seahawk helicopter.”
“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Carl exclaimed.
“This is an amazing science platform,” Danielle said.
“Yeah, but I doubt if she ever has a chance to see the water,” the master chief said glumly.
Carl walked straight up to him and smiled. “Chief, we need to borrow her and you, too.”
“Look, Toad, she needs about another two tons of electronics. Hell, she needs her whole navigation and mapping system. So unless you can write me a check for about five and a half million dollars and get the Department of the Navy and the president of the United States to give her to you, you’re up shit’s creek without a paddle, boy. Besides, I’m done kowtowing to those bastards anyway. You can’t have her.”
“Well, Chief, I only go up the creeks I’m told to sail, so however much and what it is that you need, I’ll have it here within the day, and the people you need to assist you in installing it,” Carl said as he brought out his cell phone.
The master chief looked at Carl and then at Danielle, who smiled and nodded her head, letting him know Carl was serious.
“Put the damned phone away,” he said. “I’m not the whore you seem to think I am, Toad. The answer is no!”
Carl stopped dialing. “Where we’re going, we’ll need one hell of a boat. This is your chance to get this baby into action and prove what she can do. They stuck you down here to keep you out of the way, Chief, so that means they don’t think you have anything to offer the navy anymore.”
“You think you can play me like a fiddle? Well, my boy, you have another fuckin’ think comin’. I would just as soon burn this thing as to—”
“There are college kids down there, Chief. They haven’t been heard from in weeks. We need you. And we need Teacher.” Danielle held Jenks’s glare with her own softer version. Then his features relaxed and his eyes traveled down to her chest once again, like a magnet drawn to steel.
Legend: An Event Group Thriller Page 17