Wings of Steele- The Series, page 49
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
"I'm telling you, there was something else. It looked like it was on the beach..."
"Well, look," said the second, "if there was something here, it didn't leave any marks..."
"C'mon Frank, I saw something, maybe it was a helicopter..."
Frank shook his head. "There's not a helicopter alive that could outrun an F-16."
"Well it was kinda' bulky." He made gestures with his hands to approximate a shape.
"You're not trying to tell me you saw a UFO, are you, Tom?"
"Well I..." he saw the other man's expression. "Ahem, I, well, no. No, of course not. No. Definitely not." He turned and walked back toward the street. "Let's go get some coffee." They disappeared between the houses back the way they came.
"Neighbors?" whispered Lisa.
"Not unless some new ones moved in," said Jack. "It's Saturday, right?" His sister nodded. "Mmmm," nodded Jack. "Suits before six in the morning, on a Saturday. My guess is alphabet soup..."
“Alphabet soup...?”
"FBI, CIA, NCIS, NSA... whatever." He stood up. "We'd better get inside." He searched his pockets as Lisa brushed herself off. "Damn," he growled, "I left my keys in my bomber jacket, guess we'll have to knock."
"Your eye," said Lisa.
"Oh yeah..." he paused on the bottom step searching his pockets for the eye patch. "Also in my bomber jacket. Got any sunglasses?"
"Yeah sure, because I need those all the time in the middle of winter in Chicago..."
"Yeah...” snorted Jack, “maybe they won't notice..."
Lisa laughed loudly. "And pigs fly, right?"
Jack stood ready to knock at the sliding glass door into the kitchen but froze. This was home, and for a second, it was as if the last sixteen months hadn't happened. But they had. And suddenly he felt like he didn't belong there anymore, a foreigner in his own world. A stranger at his own home. He backed away from the door.
"What's wrong?" asked Lisa.
"Uh, well, maybe we should wait a little bit, it's awful early..."
"Oh sure!" she retorted. "It's OK to wake me at some ungodly hour, but you're too chicken-shit to wake mom and dad!" She pushed him and he bumped the door, making it rattle. "Knock, you weenie!" The family dog barked from inside the house and Fritz barked back out of reflex.
"Now look what you've done!" said Jack, backing away from the door again. He grabbed her by the arm and put her in front of the door. "You talk to them first," he told her, "my eye... you know." He moved out of view.
She smirked. "Yeah, sure. Right. Your eye." The curtain moved and her mother peeked out. The curtain closed again. "What am I supposed to say?" hissed Lisa.
"Break it to them gently, I'll stay out here..." He pulled the comm unit off his ear and slid it into a pocket inside his jacket.
"Now, how am I supposed to do that...?" Lisa spun toward the door when she heard it begin to slide. "Oh, hi, mom!"
"Lisa? What are you doing here?" Lynnette Steele slid the door wide to let her daughter into the house. “How did you get here?”
"Funny you should ask me that," said Lisa casually as she stepped past her mother, tossing her duffel bag on the floor.
■ ■ ■
Lynnette jumped up off the couch. "He's here? Why didn't you say so in the first place?!" She moved forward, "Where is he?"
Lisa stepped in front of her mother to head her off. "Just a minute, mom. Yes, he's here. But he's changed..."
"Changed how?" Kyle's expression was one of anticipation, but he remained calmly seated on the couch.
“Different, maybe that's a better word, he's different...”
"He's hurt, is that it?" said Lynnette.
"No. No, he's not hurt... he was, but he's all healed now." Just don't squeeze his arm, she thought. "He's fine, honest."
Kyle rose from the couch. "Well, let him in, girl! Why is he standing outside?"
Lisa raised her hands. "OK, OK! Just don't stare at his eye..."
“What's wrong with his eye?" Asked Lynnette, almost in tears.
Lisa thought how she might explain it. "Umm..."
"What?" Her mother tried to get around her.
Lisa held her. "Wait, mom..." She sighed, there was no easy way. "His left eye isn't real, and it might be a little scary..." OK, a lot scary, she thought. She saw the tears rolling down her mother's cheek. Dammit Jack, she thought, I hate when you make me do this stuff. "It's OK, mom, he can see fine, it's just not a real eye." Lynnette pushed past her daughter and ran to the door, peering through the glass.
Always in control, Kyle moved casually to the door and stood next to his wife. "He looks fine," said Kyle quietly, resting his hand on Lynnette's shoulder.
■ ■ ■
Jack stood motionless on the sand halfway between the water and the house, watching Fritz splash happily at the water's edge. The dog had been eyeing the surf and Jack had decided to let him play. The water was fairly cold and Fritz was only getting his legs wet, but he was having a terrific time. The broken clouds were giving way to clear sky, the eastern horizon behind them turning a rosy shade, casting slivers of color between the houses and across the sand. Jack drew a deep lungful of the fresh air and could almost taste its substance. What a beautiful morning, he thought, absolutely outstanding. How he missed this.
When he glanced up at the sky, he saw the three-quarter morning moon hanging there; pale, cool, quiet. Looking like it had been painted into the sky. It beckoned to him and he could feel its pull. And he knew. This would always be his home, but out there was where he belonged. Where he was destined to be.
"Jack..." Jack spun around and the Shepherd stopped playing, turning toward the house. Kyle and Lynnette stood at the rail on the sundeck and Lisa stood in the sliding glass doorway to the kitchen, waving him in.
Homecoming was full of hugs, tears... and stares. Jack had to grit his teeth and Lisa thought his eyes would pop out when their mother hugged him across the wound on his arm. But he made it through. His parents must have dismissed the tears in his eyes as the result of the emotions of the moment.
Lynnette couldn't help herself. Lisa had said his eye looked odd, but she couldn't have imagined it like it was if she tried. And poor Fritz, he looked like a dog version of Phantom of the Opera with a small camera lens stuck to his face.
Jack and Lisa had a few moments alone as Lynnette made breakfast and Kyle showered. "I don't get it," whispered Jack, "they haven't asked me a thing. How much did you tell them?"
"Not much," replied Lisa.
"So you didn't tell them about..."
"Are you nuts?" she hissed. "I don't want to end up in a rubber room!"
"Stop exaggerating," said Jack, "they wouldn't do that."
"They sure as hell wouldn't believe me," she sassed.
"Mmm, you're probably right."
"There's no probably about it," said Lisa quietly. "If you want them to believe this story, you're gonna' have to show them concrete evidence."
"You're just hoping to see the Freedom for yourself," said Jack sitting back on the couch and switching on the big-screen TV.
"Damn right," confirmed Lisa. "But you know I'm right. They won't believe it unless they see it. Not with all that's happened. They'll think you're nuts or on drugs or something."
"Alright," said Jack calmly, "it's settled then, a midnight tour it is."
"Breakfast...!" It was not a call anyone in this family was likely to miss. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, milk, juice... the whole fanfare. And nobody made it better. It smelled spectacular and Jack's mouth was watering long before he sat down at the breakfast table.
"Man, this is great," said Jack, loading his plate.
"My Lord," said his mother, "don't they feed you? I mean, wherever it is you've been."
"That's one thing we do well, is eat," he replied. "I just haven't eaten since about seven last night."
"And where was that...?" said Kyle carefully.
"And why are you so pale?" asked his mother. "You used to be so tan."
His father waved at her to be quiet. "That's not important Lynn." He never took his eyes off Jack. "So what happened, son? Exactly... Where have you been and why has it taken so long for you to come home? Your eye, the dog..." he glanced down at Fritz who sat quietly next to Gus the family dog. "What's happened?"
Jack was seriously hoping Fritz wouldn't feel the need to speak anytime soon. "Well," said Jack, "I'll tell you what I can, but some of it will have to wait until tonight..."
"Why tonight ?" interrupted his mother.
The doorbell rang before Jack could respond and his father rose from the table to answer it.
"Where's my car mom?" asked Jack, between forkfuls.
"In the garage. Your father and I had to go get it from the airport. Why?"
"Just curious..."
Kyle Steele walked back into the kitchen with a man dressed smartly in a blue-gray suit and Jack's stomach filled with butterflies. He looked like a Fed. Jack had not removed his jacket, his first instinct was to reach inside and produce the blaster. He resisted the urge. "Dad?"
"Son, this is Agent Phil Cooper, FBI. Phil, this is my son, Jack Steele." Phil Cooper stepped forward and extended his hand. Jack remained seated, stone-faced. "He's here to help you, Jack," prompted his father.
Jack rose slowly, taking care to prevent his jacket from dropping open and revealing the blaster. He shook hands with the agent, a short, curt shake, then sat back down.
“The scariest words in the English language,” commented Jack, “I'm from the government and I'm here to help...”
“Hey!” shot his father, glaring at him, “that was uncalled for...”
Lynnette set another place at the table and Phil joined the family for breakfast. The Agent ate happily and quietly for some time, studying Jack as he ate. Jack ignored him. "You were in Chicago last night," said Phil, after some time, "weren't you?" He glanced at Lisa and smiled. "It was easy to figure," he added. He watched Jack's face but there was no reaction. "Yeah," he continued, "it seems Jack Steele and body counts are synonymous."
Jack looked up from his food and cleared his throat but said nothing. His father had stopped eating and was staring at him, his mother looked pale. The only one that seemed unaffected was Lisa. "You know,” continued Cooper, "those two guys you left in the snow were Vasquez's men. He won't be happy about that."
"Don't know the man. But I suppose that's his problem, isn't it..." said Jack sarcastically, still eating.
"Hey kid, I'm not condemning you. Honest." He took a swig of milk and wiped the white mustache off his upper lip with a napkin. "In fact, in my opinion, you did the world a favor. But there's something curious, see..." He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke curl away. "The guy in the driveway is still alive." He watched Jack's eyes narrow. "And my men tell me, he keeps babbling something about some kind of lightning gun or something. The other guy... Christ," he breathed, "they faxed me pictures, he was burned in half...”
“Nice breakfast talk...” interrupted Jack, eating. He waved his fork, “And if you don't mind, I'd prefer you not to smoke in my house.”
“Their vehicle was destroyed beyond recognition,” continued Cooper, snubbing his cigarette out in his half-eaten scrambled eggs. “And there was a small amount of radiation of undetermined origin. Just what the hell did you use?"
Jack met his gaze and held it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking. Stone faced and without blinking, he reached in and drew out the blaster from under his jacket. Cooper was unmoved. He'd be a good Ruge player, thought Jack. Ejecting the power cartridge into his left hand, Jack held the weapon out in the palm of his right hand. "I used this. I suppose a lightning gun is actually a pretty fair description..."
Cooper picked it out of Jack's hand and examined it, turning it over and over. It was about the size and shape of a 9mm semiautomatic pistol but lighter than it looked. Kyle leaned over and stared at it too. "This is it? It feels like a toy..." said Cooper.
Jack snorted, "Hardly." To his surprise Cooper handed it back.
“How does it work?” asked his father.
“Well I took one apart once...”
“And?”
“And I learned I should never take one apart again,” he chuckled.
“Don't be a smartass...”
Jack shook his head, “I'm not, totally a true story. It's actually called an Ion Pulse Laser Blaster. It operates on a burst of intensely focused light. That's the total extent of my knowledge of this thing...” he slid the power cartridge back in and re-holstered it. “That and how to reload it.”
"And how did it come into your possession?"
"Hmm,” Jack smiled, “interesting choice of words, Mr. Cooper. I'm sure you have a hundred questions, but if I told you, I doubt seriously any of you would believe me. So, if you can all wait just a few hours until tonight, I will be able to answer all your questions and explain absolutely everything." He drained his juice glass.
"Why, what happens tonight?" asked Cooper.
"It'll be easier to show you rather than just tell you," explained Jack.
"What could be so unbelievable?" asked his father. The phone rang before Jack could respond and his father rose to answer it. "It's for you," he told Cooper.
Cooper came back and sat down at the table after a short phone conversation. He stared at Jack. "It seems the B-25 Sweet Susie, the one you disappeared in, has turned up..."
"Do tell..." said Jack sitting back with a wry smile.
"Really...? said his father. "Where?"
"Right back at the hangar where it first took off from," answered Cooper. His eyes never left Jack's face. "Would you know anything about that, Jack?"
Jack smiled innocently. "Who me?" he shrugged. "Maybe..."
"Funny thing is," announced the Agent, "it seems it simply dropped from the sky earlier this morning... right through the roof of the hangar of Miles Aviation. Destroyed the plane, the hangar, and a partly restored P-38 Lightning parked inside."
Oooh, bonus points! "Geez, that’s too bad..." he replied unconvincingly.
Cooper eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, you look really broken up about it. How'd you do it?"
"Tonight," said Jack, pushing his chair back. "Midnight." He was tired, his left arm aching. He wanted, needed some rest.
“You know there are a lot of people who want to talk to you, Mr. Steele...” said Cooper standing, “FBI, CIA, ATF, NCIS... I could go on...”
Jack was unmoved at Cooper's posturing, “Please don't.” His arms were folded casually across his chest.
“Maybe we should talk about protective custody,” he said drawing out a pair of handcuffs slowly. “Give us a chance to straighten things out, the FBI can protect you...” He laid the cuffs on the table. “It would be best if you did it voluntarily...”
“Best for who...? You?” He glanced at his dad and back to Cooper. “See what I mean dad? They're here to help... what a crock. They thrive on using people. I wouldn't have been in the mess in the first place if it wasn't for the helpful folks in the government.”
“I don't want to have to do it the hard way.” Cooper shifted but froze, blinking in disbelief. With a momentary blur of motion, Jack had the Ion Blaster pointed at him, still sitting calmly. It was as if he hadn't moved at all.
His parents stared at him silently, blinking. Kyle wasn't sure he had actually seen him move.
Jack raised an eyebrow, “So if it doesn't go your way, you'll bully people. Nice. I've got news for you, you really don't want to get into a pissing match here, Mr. Cooper. You will lose. That ballistic vest you're wearing might as well be made of tissue paper - and you've seen what this thing can do. So how about you take your hand off that Glock, so I don't have to mess up the walls of my house with your guts...”
Cooper let his hand drop to his side, then leaned forward, his hands on the table. “Kid, you have no idea what you're up against, how much trouble you're in... there's a price on your head. You need the FBI's help.”
Jack laughed hard, “What I'm up against? You pompous ass... you have no idea what I'm capable of. You saw what happened to the last two guys that tried to collect on that,” he added flippantly. “And as far as one branch of the government protecting me from another branch of government - I can't believe you can actually say that with a straight face. It's quite possibly the dumbest thing I've ever heard.” He stood and slid the blaster back in its holster. “Let me be perfectly clear, Mr. Cooper, I don't need your help, or the help of any government agency...”
Cooper straightened up and shrugged. “So you want to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”
“Cooper, you're starting to bore me. You're in so far over your head, you can't even see the light of day... and you don't even know it.” He glanced at his parents but did not turn away from Phil Cooper. “Dad, if you value him as a friend, keep him away from me until tonight.” Jack walked out of the room followed by Fritz and Lisa. “I'm going to get some rest.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
COVERT INCURSION: GULF OF MEXICO
Ensign Myomerr pointed the nose of the Invader at the planet, the Gulf of Mexico her targeted entry zone. "Are you gentlemen ready?"
"All set, Skipper," called Dooby from the back, checking his harness.
"Fifteen-hundred miles to coordinates," stated Ragnaar, activating a secondary sensor screen.
"Thank you, Lieutenant.” She reached forward, flipping the shields on, the hum of the shield generator spinning up.” We'd better hustle it up, we're running late..." she added, shoving the throttle forward.
■ ■ ■
Lisa dragged a lounge chair from the other side of the sundeck next to her brother, "Where are they, Jack?" She dropped into the chair and kicked her feet up.
Jack checked his watch, 12:15. "I don't know, Lisa." He leaned back on the lounger and scanned the sky over the Gulf, Fritz strolling around on the sand inspecting shells and other things washed up on the beach. He glanced over at his sister, “They'll be here,” he added confidently.
