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Daylight didn't mean anything in the bedchamber Alex often chose. It might be 0500 this time of year or it might be noon if he judged by the windows. The computer screens in the corner office were dark. His phone was on the nightstand but he didn't bother looking at it. Until the vibrate-buzz/chime. Probably had happened earlier and woke him. He picked it up and looked at it. 0633. Somebody wants something. Somebody I'm supposed to care what they want. Alex rolled over against the body pillow and got comfortable. Jessica was in her room upstairs with a big teddy bear. He figured most people assumed that they slept together and that was fine with him and Jessica to the degree that they bothered to care what most people thought. He thought for a while about whoever it was - the number was as always one he didn't recognize. Who's got boxes of burner phones? Not many - Bob Clarkson was for sure. Call back or wait - Bob could hit one of the computers over in the corner office and wake it up. Wait. It wasn't to be for long. One of the four computers woke up. 0644. Alright, alright. He pressed the button to return the Laz-Z-Boy to a sitting position and reached for his cane. The Parkinsonism came and went these days and it was often one day at a time. He got to his feet and considered whether to stick with the routine. He decided to do so and dropped to the floor for the fifty-five pushups. Three years a ago he had struggled for days to do one so that was progress. It was almost certainly Clarkson has he was one of few who could get to that one computer. Having slept in pajama pants, a T-shirt and socks he undressed as he walked to the bathroom. Brush teeth and shave, shower and dress. Khaki cargo pants and matching shirt, pausing to think about footwear before slipping on the Timberland boat shoes. The Victorinox Spartan went into the right pants pocket with a BIC lighter, a keyring with keys to three of the exterior doors went into the left. What else? See what he wants first. Jessica-Six's screen showed 0651. And someone had called again, from the same number. He picked up the phone and hit dial on the number. It was answered on the first ring, by Melina. Bob's girl Friday, usual driver and bodyguard and fitness consultant, among other things. Bob was near his age and looked closer to Melina's just over three decades so she must be doing a fair job on the fitness part. "Bob will be with you in a minute," she said. He wasn't into small talk and Melina generally wasn't either so he waited. It was three minutes. "Have you looked at the news?" Bob asked. "Nope," Alex replied. "I was sleeping." "Sorry about that," Bob said. "It's pretty important. Take a look at Feed 4 on Blacktower." "Hang on..." he rolled the mouse to kill the screensaver and Alt-Tabbed to the window, selected Feed 4. "OK, what am I seeing?" A city, or some part of one, was burning. Occasionally one or more people ran through the frame of the fixed camera. "Jonesboro, Arkansas," Bob replied. "A local mosque, near ASU. Some of the Muslims... there's been some trouble before... apparently mixed it up with a group of locals. The usual, women assaulted on top of the existing friction. We're still collecting data but we know that the Jonesboro chapter of the Knights of Arioch was involved." "Nice," said Alex. "I can imagine how that went." "A dozen dead Jihadists at least," Bob said. "More wounded... no numbers yet. They retreated pretty quickly to the mosque compound - you know what those are like. For now the local law enforcement is maintaing a cordon but while the Knights seem to be a spontaneous... mob. Some at least are well-armed and this could get ugly." "I'm six hundred miles away," Alex said. "What do you expect me to do?" "John Howard is there," Bob replied. "What he's doing there I don't know but that's reason for concern. You know him pretty well. We need to know what's going on down there." "What's Cobalt saying?" asked Alex. "Nothing. The links are broken, I don't know when any will be restored. I have an aircraft waiting at Tango Zulu. You can be there in an hour and on the ground in Jonesboro in another three." "Add an hour for me to get ready," Alex said. "Try to make it a half hour," Bob said "Don't count on it," Alex replied. He was ready to go, except for telling Jessica. He turned to see her standing in the doorway. Convenient if nothing else. "I have to go," he said. "How long... I don't know. Something pretty serious." Now why did I have to say that last part? Jessica was wearing an outfit like the one he had slept in, red and black plaid pajama pants and a grey T-shirt, grey socks. She embraced him and held him for a few moments. "Go," she said. "If they need you they need you. I'll be all right." "Call Geoff if anything doesn't seem right," Alex said. "He's down at the front gate and I'll brief him on the way out." Tango Zulu was an hour away and a fairly uncomplicated run - part of the way. Highway 18 to to 49 was about twenty miles and then north up 49. The road got twisty after Baileyville, a wide spot in the road at the fringe of the Ozarks and always made him nervous - not because he doubted himself but the hundreds of other drivers he would meet. There was nothing to be done though and he finished dressing by shoving the Ruger SR40 into a crossdraw holster and the Charter Arms .44 Bulldog into a jacket pocket. He didn't care much for .40 caliber stuff preferring the big brother 10mm but wearing one while driving wasn't practical. He put the pair of Rock Island tens in their shoulder rigs on the passenger seat of the Miranda, the 1978 LeBaron. The car was a full resto out of the McFarland Brothers shops but plain-looking enough to not attract unwanted attention. Having all the buttons including a power sunroof made it fun to drive and it could haul quite a bit - the trunk held a small arsenal and some other interesting items. He started the engine and looked at the custom gauge cluster just because - he had personally check the oil and coolant the day after it was last used and had topped off the fuel. After a couple of minutes he hit the button for the front door of the garage and drove out. The three hundred or so yards of crushed rock driveway were almost as smooth as asphalt and the big tires and suspension of the LeBaron muted the noise and what bumps were present. Before the gate a small grove of sumac and elderberry trees provided cover on each side. He lowered the window as he approached. Two men emerged from each grove and approached. James Harbison and a lower-ranking guy approached. Alex had met him a while back, Henry Falls, age 22, one each. Former Air Force Security Police. Alex had done a few years in the Air Force way back and wasn't impressed by SPs but some were pretty good. One with the vision to join the resistance was probably above average at least. "How ya doing?" James greeted him. "Saw a blip a while ago. Seems it was more than a blip." "Yeah," Alex replied. "Don't know how big and hope to be back in a day or two but you never know." "Be safe," said James. The gates opened and Alex drove through. Turned onto the better-than-average chip-and-seal road that was state eighteen. He adjusted the seat and wondered how it wasn't in the right position already. Probably there was a reason... The Commpad-6 was in its usual position on the dash. The display - a map of the four hundred square miles around his position - was there. Potential problems would be displayed in real time. Alex opened the sunroof and leaned back in the leather seat and set the cruise control on fifty-five. Hostile law enforcement wasn't likely to be encontered but no sense in taking chances. Traffic was light all the way and in a little over an hour he was at the entrance to Tango Zulu. He eased Miranda between the bushes on either side of the narrow drive and into the compound. The gates opened as he approached and he stopped just inside as a small squad converged on him. The leader was Mike Frazier, not much younger than him. He lowered the window and held out a small metal disc with a bank of eight DIP switches embedded. Rarely if ever used in computers the relic was a useful coding device. If a switch was in the wrong position Mike would know something was wrong and he would go no further. "Welcome back," Mike said as he handed the disc back. "Bob's got quite a bunch up there, you're the last one to arrive." "How about we have a smoke and let him wait a bit longer?" Alex said. "Be fun but best not," Mike said with a grin. "Actually it seems pretty serious, whatever it is." "Gotta do what we gotta do," Alex said. "Catch ya later." He parked Miranda in the circle that surrounded the HQ. Few places on earth were as secure as these facilities and he just locked the car and went in, not bothering to cover the guns on the seat. At the entrance he was greeted by a young man and woman in their twenties and looked like siblings - they were in fact twins. "Mark, Marianne," he said, "how you doing?" "Good," Marianne replied. "Just go right up." As he crossed the lobby the receptionist nodded towards the elevators and he continued, pressed the third floor button. The conference room was on the left exiting the elevator. A pair of guys in house uniform flanked the doors and one of them opened a door for him as he approached. He nodded and went in.
Leonard Parrish -- |
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