Wings of Steele- The Series, page 112
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
“She's probably scared to death... Pam!” hollered Chase. “Pam!” He shrugged, squinting in the dark, I can't see anything, maybe she fainted. Is she holding on?”
“Yeah,” nodded Karen.
“Might be like battlefield shock. I've seen guys freeze up. We'll go over to the back of Captiva and beach over there for the night. You OK?”
“Depends on what you call OK...”
■ ■ ■
Chase coasted in to the beach and let the nose of the Jet Ski nudge the sand. One extra goose on the throttle to push it a little further up and he shut it off. “Ok, Allie,” he sat back and took his weight off her. She got up stiffly and jumped off onto the beach, stretching, wandering off to explore. Chase waved Karen in, “Just let it coast.” He reached down and caught the nose. “Ok, shut it off.” He pulled on it to secure it a little higher on the sand. “Ok climb off...” he said, opening the hatch on the nose. He reached in and pushing other gear aside, pulled out a small anchor with some line.
Karen looked over her shoulder, “Pam, you can let go now, we're safe...” she looked over at Chase in the darkness. “She still won't let go.”
Chase dropped the anchor in the sand and sloshed over in the water. Her arms wrapped around Karen's waist, he grabbed Pam's hand and had to pry her fingers off her other wrist, her hands ice cold. It sent a spike of fear up his spine and he touched her face, her skin cold. It was more than eighty degrees outside, she shouldn't be that cold. He dug the small flashlight out of the cargo pocket of his shorts and turned it on, putting it in his mouth so his hands were free. He released Karen from Pam's death grip and picked her lifeless form off the Jet Ski, carrying her to the sand. He could feel the sticky slickness on her back and side as he laid her down, Karen standing there, mute.
Chase examined her closely, she had been hit twice in the lower back and once in the side about three inches below her armpit. She had saved Karen's life. “I'm sorry,” was all he could think of to say. “She's... gone...”
Karen wailed and sank to her knees in the sand, burying her face on Pam's prostrate form, sobbing heavily. Allie trotted over and lay down next to her, doing her best to be comforting, nuzzling her hand.
Karen and Pam had been friends since grade school, pretty much inseparable as best friends. Anyone who didn't know them would have assumed they were lovers, when the truth was they were better described as twins from different mothers. Chase had known them for the better part of fifteen years, since high school. Karen was the athletic one, competing on the swim team and running track, while Pam who could have easily passed for a cheerleader, was the bookworm. Chase was heartbroken, he loved them both dearly. Probably even more than Penny... because, well, Penny was new in his life, he had a long -term connection to Karen and Pam. Now he had lost three important people in his life, two within the span of a week. And as far as he could tell, to the same evil.
■ ■ ■
Sheriff Frank Naywood was not a happy man, by any stretch of the imagination. Cape Coral Police and his Sheriffs had missed the carnage by mere minutes as it spread through the neighborhoods between Bimini Basin and Redfish Cove. Property damage was widespread; cars, boats, houses, broken windows... The minor consolation was no injuries were reported. Detectives and CSI teams were combing the entire area for evidence, having a good portion of the block cordoned off with crime tape, from the house where the two girls lived all the way down to the end of the street.
Standing in Chase Holt's driveway, Naywood greeted the man getting out of the black Crown Victoria, his hand out, the two man shaking briefly. Frank Naywood...”
“Phil Cooper, FBI. Looks like you're a little busy tonight...”
“Understatement of the year, Mr. Cooper. We have empty brass casings from the house behind me all the way to the end of the street along the seawall.”
“9mm, I'm guessing. Sounds like they were trying to stop a boat?”
“Jet skis, plural. I think the two girls who lived next door got swept into this whole mess...”
Phil Cooper pursed his lips. “My guys briefed me about Holt. I understand you have a Deputy at large somewhere that fell off the radar too?”
Naywood nodded. “Dan Murphy...”
Cooper casually stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Mmm, husband of the dead newscaster, right?”
“That's right.”
“How about Holt's girlfriend?” Cooper's head tilted to one side.
“She's OK, we have her in protective custody.”
“Does he know that? Holt, I mean.”
“No, Holt's been missing for about a week, we've had no contact with him... well until tonight,” motioned the Sheriff. “We're guessing he came back. Not sure how it involves the neighbor girls yet.”
“Hmm, exponential expansion. Let me tell you a little story Sheriff,” began Phil Cooper, leaning in. He reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?” he motioned.
“No,” waved Naywood, “go ahead.”
Cooper tapped the pack, and pulled out the tallest one. Lighting it, he inhaled deeply. “I'm trying to quit, but I never know what to do with my hands...”
“The story?” prompted Naywood, a little annoyed.
“This is completely off the record, open to interpretation and may or may not represent the whole truth...” grinned Cooper. “It's not repeatable. Ever. But you need to believe everything I'm going to tell you, understand?”
Naywood sighed, “I get it.”
“Once upon a time, the CIA was running guns to Venezuela by way of Brazil. It was a bid to supply weapons to rebels fighting against Chavez in an attempt to destabilize the government. The White House wanted him out. A man named Jack Steele was the pilot flying that transport. Now, Steele didn't work for the CIA and he had no idea he was being used, he was just a pilot. Someone tried to steal that plane and bless his heart he wasn't about to let that happen. Cop skills. The Kid's a serious boy scout. Did I mention he used to be a cop? Yeah it runs in his family.” Cooper took a draw on the cigarette before continuing, the smoke expelling as he talked. “Well it started a whole incident... especially when his plane disappeared over a corner of the Bermuda Triangle with two navy fighters in hot pursuit. They disappeared too.”
Naywood rolled his eyes and Cooper caught him. “It gets better, Sheriff. And I'm telling you, it only gets farther out there. But believe me, you can't make this stuff up. Everybody's looking for this Steele kid; FBI, CIA, Military Intelligence, KGB...”
“KGB?”
Cooper smirked, “Yeah. But that's not important. At least not right now. See, the Steele kid comes back a year after he disappears and I get a call from his folks, I know them pretty well. When he comes back a little hell breaks loose, after which I get to actually meet him.” The Agent's face changed to one of contemplation, “Interesting kid. He's definitely got a strong command presence...”
“Did you put him in custody?” asked Naywood, wondering how this all tied together.
“No, that wasn't going to happen. Because we want the technology he has at his disposal and the Bureau figured to make nice to get it...”
“What kind of technology?”
Phil Cooper exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked up at the sky. “The kind that you get from out there...”
Naywood didn't know whether to laugh or take him seriously.
“But the Bureau wanted proof,” continued Cooper. “So, the kid showed it to me...”
“What kind of proof?” interrupted Naywood.
“Concrete proof. We'll leave it at that.”
“Like what?”
Cooper sighed, “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“Try me. What, did you see a ship or something?”
Cooper's jaw muscles flexed while he was deciding how much to tell Naywood. “Nah, I didn't see a ship. I visited a ship.”
Sheriff Naywood stared at him blankly, looking for deception in the FBI agent's face. He saw none. “You're not kidding...” his voice trailed off to a whisper.
“No I'm not. It was an angels singing, shaft of light from heaven, life-changing event.” He paused for a moment, neither man speaking. “So... I got the FBI to back off and play nice. The CIA got in hot water, facing a Congressional investigation to explain why they were pursuing an American citizen inside our borders. Basically they got a slap on the wrist for being in a pissing match with the Bureau and not letting us handle it.”
“So how did the NSA get involved?”
“They saw the data from NASA and DARPA during his visit and basically went nuts that they hadn't been included in something they'd decided was a national security concern. Well, the Steele kid left a gizmo behind for his family to stay in contact with him and...”
“Because he's... out there...” said Frank Naywood slowly, pointing at the stars.
“Right,” nodded Cooper. “Well the signal's encrypted but it's not invisible. SETI saw it, got all excited, thought it was an ET contact. DARPA saw it and suddenly the NSA's all over it. They can't crack the encryption and that scares the crap outta' them. And reportedly, the unit's the size of a laptop. Our equipment requires eighty-foot dish transmitters and hundreds of tons of electronics. Yeah, they want it bad. Real bad.” Cooper flicked the cigarette butt into the street and took a moment to fish out another, lighting it, taking a draw. “Anyway, they suspect the one with the gizmo is the sister staying at Steele's beach house. At this point the NSA is playing it cool, watching the house, hoping they can catch the gizmo in use and recover it. But the KGB is watching the same house, though to this day, nobody knows why. But the Ruskies make a move first, the shit hits the fan and the KGB team gets themselves offed.”
“Jesus Christ,” mumbles Frank. “So let me backtrack a moment; the news broadcast reports a year ago about the sightings and the things near the moon...”
“All true. CSS and NSA squashed them for national security. Don't panic the citizenry and all that...”
“Who's CSS?”
“Central Security Service. They're controlled by the DOD. The orders for the NSA guys involved in this are probably coming from the CSS.”
“Which is coming from the DOD, then...”
The FBI agent took another drag on his cigarette. “Yep. Some righteously scary people.”
“And the incident on the beach...”
Cooper dropped the cigarette butt on the concrete and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. “Yeah. Real. I wasn't here that night but to hear the kid's parents tell it, that wasn't Steele or his ship...”
“Who then?”
“Another member of his fleet,” said Cooper casually.
“FLEET?!” That was way louder than Naywood had intended. “Fleet?” he whispered.
“Fleet.” confirmed Cooper. “So anyone remotely connected to Steele, is going to get a serious rectal exam from the NSA. They want Steele and the technology so bad; I really don't think they give a shit about anything else. In fact, I haven't talked to his folks in a while, I ought to do that. Make sure they're OK. This is starting to give me a seriously bad feeling.”
“Exponential expansion,” nodded Naywood, understanding a little better. “So all these people are connected to Steele?”
“In one form or another,” confirmed Phil Cooper. “Holt, Steele and Murphy are all in the same Masonic Lodge...”
“What about Caroline Murphy? What happened there?”
“That was an enemy asset elimination. She embarrassed them and they wanted her gone for that. They wanted a loud and clear signal this was something not to be fucked with.”
Naywood rubbed his face with his hands. “My God. These guys are acting like rabid animals. They're supposed to be protecting the citizens...”
Cooper shook his head, “No, protecting citizens is the job of law enforcement. Your job. These guys are tasked with protecting the country; which means sacrifices by the few for the benefit of the many. They have license to do whatever they need to do. Many levels of collateral damage are anticipated and accepted. ”
“I thought these people were supposed to be special...”
“They are special. Very special. Most are ex- Rangers, Seals, Special Forces... but there's a lot of internal pressure for results. I'm not making excuses but I certainly understand their frustration.”
“Doesn't excuse their behavior,” retorted the Sheriff. “This is an unacceptable excess of force.” His cell phone rang and he excused himself, answering it.
“Sheriff, this is dispatch. We have a phone call from someone claiming to be Chase Holt.”
“Put it through.” The Sheriff listened to the tone change, the line switching over. “Hello...?”
“Hello, this is Chase Holt... You won't be able to trace this call, so don't even try.”
“You're on my cell phone Mr. Holt. Are you alright?”
“Yes...”
“Do you have the girls with you?” There was a pause and Naywood thought maybe he'd lost the call. “Mr. Holt?”
“Yes sir,” his voice wavered. “They killed Pam. She's dead...”
“Goddammit,” he breathed. “Is Karen alright?”
“Yes, she's alright.”
“Where are you Mr. Holt? We know this wasn't your fault. Let us come and get you, we can help you.”
“No you can't Sheriff. Nobody can. We're on our own. I called to let you know where we left Pam, so you can get her...”
“Can I talk to Karen?”
“Maybe later, she's finally asleep now...”
CHAPTER SEVEN
UFW CONQUEST, GEDHEPP SYSTEM: BIRTH OF JAX MERCURY
The heat was staggering, a wind blowing across the desolate terrain like an unrelenting blast furnace. Very little grew there save the cactus and the scrub, an occasional rattlesnake or scorpion hiding in what little shade was available in the inhospitable terrain. A range of purple mountains shrouded in heat waves stretched across the backdrop and flat-topped buttes jutted out of the desert floor. Kyle Steele stood next to a barrel cactus in jeans and a loose white t-shirt looking bronzed, nearly sunburned. His t-shirt flapping in the breeze, he scoured the horizon with binoculars, “Lynette... Lynette!”
Lisa sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding. Disoriented and confused, she had to examine her surroundings to determine where she was. It didn't make much sense at first, still feeling the heat of the desert and the hellish wind. In contrast, the climatized air in her quarters felt cool on her damp pajamas.
“Miss Lisa, I detect elevated body temperature and an accelerated heart rate. Are you feeling satisfactory?”
“Not now, TESS,” mumbled Lisa throwing off the sheets and running toward the door of her quarters, Gus on her heels.
■ ■ ■
Foggy, half asleep. Jack Steele reached for his robe, “Hold on, hold on...” He shuffled barefoot through his quarters to the incessant pinging of the door chime. Fritz lay on the sofa in the salon, his ears up, eyes open, unmoved.
“OK, OK,” said Steele, “enter already...”
The door swished open, disappearing into the bulkhead, his sister stumbling through the door, Gus trotting over to where Fritz lay, sitting quietly next to him. “Something's wrong. Something's wrong...” she chattered.
Sleepily, he waved her in. “Sure, c'mon in. I wasn't sleeping or anything...”
“I had a dream, a bad dream...”
“And you just couldn't wait till morning to tell me about it,” he said yawning. He opened a small fridge inset into the interior wall, “Juice?”
“Yeah, whatever,” she waved, obviously distressed, pacing.
“Look, I get it, you had a bad dream,” he said calmly. “It was just a dream...”
“No, it was one of those,” she countered.
Jack paused mid hand-off, a bottle of juice half-extended towards Lisa. He knew what that meant. She had a vision. Much more than a dream, more vivid, more real, almost tangible. His mother had them too.
“About Mom and dad,” she continued. “There's something wrong. Really wrong.” Lisa took the bottle, her hands a little shaky. “There's something else, I can't put my finger on it. There's other people too...” her voice trailed off as she stared off into the darkness.
“What other people? Who?”
She shook her head as she opened the juice, “I don't know I couldn't see faces.”
“Could you tell what's wrong?”Jack dropped wearily onto the sofa next to Fritz.
“It's very abstract, I'm not sure I can understand it all, but I could feel it...”
Jack took a swig of juice from his bottle. “Could you be misreading it?”
Lisa stopped pacing for a moment, reflecting, reviewing it in her head like a video playback. “No... they're very alone, it's desolate, unbearably hot, hostile...” she was staring off into the darkness again. And despite the heat in her vision she shivered. “How soon before we get home, Jack?”
Jack the man, her brother, wanted to tell her they would break for home now, make a beeline for the Terran system. But Jack the Admiral; knew that was an impossibility. There were pros and cons to being an Admiral, this was definitely in the con column. “We're headed that way, but we have a lot to do and a lot of distance to cover...”
“How long?”
“Lisa, we have a job. A big job. Look at the mess we have in this system and how it's slowed us down...”
“How long?”
Jack sighed, “About two-and-a-half months. Maybe more.”
“Fine,” she waved. “The Revenge is fast. I'll take the Revenge and meet you there.”
Jack almost snorted juice through his nose. “You'll do what now?” he sputtered.
“Sure that would work,” she started, “you could get task force business done and we could go home...”
“On what planet,” interrupted Jack, waving his hand “skip that, in what universe did you become a command officer capable of commanding a ship? And where was I when it happened?”
“Don't be an asshole,” she snapped.
