He found a taxi and gave the driver the hotel name. Within minutes he was checking into his room. It was not the Ritz-Carlton but it wasn’t as bad as some he had been in. He dropped his bag on the bed and used the bathroom before unpacking the small amount of personal items he had with him.
Looking at this watch, he decided to see about getting something to eat. Heck they didn’t even give you a package of eight peanuts any longer. Airlines today suck. Fortunately the hotel had a dining room. A cute hostess seated him at a booth that gave him a view of the Snake River. The snow must have just fallen because it made everything look so clean and fresh. His waitress was very nice and good looking as well.
Maybe it was the air that produced such nice looking women in this area, he thought. He ordered a steak, rice instead of the potato, and cottage cheese.
While waiting for his food, he found a vending machine and bought the local newspaper, The Post-Register. He sat reading the paper while enjoying his meal. A large snow storm was predicted to be coming their way in the next day or so. Great, he thought, I hope my clothes arrive before then.
The waitress had paid special attention to him and had checked back several times to see that everything was to his satisfaction. Miller noticed that several of her other tables were not receiving nearly the same amount of consideration. She was certainly cute but he knew the last thing on his mind should be getting too friendly with a local girl.
When he arrived back at his room, his luggage was already inside. Not bad he thought, all I have to do is wish it, and it happens. He considered unpacking but decided to wait until he was sure where his ultimate destination was going to be.
It didn’t take long to find out. Within an hour his phone rang and he was instructed to meet a civilian charter bus that would stop for him at his hotel at 0600 hours.
Promptly at 0600 the following morning a large coach with dark tinted windows pulled into the hotel lot. Huge snowflakes were starting to fall from a rapidly lightening sky. It looked like the forecast was going to be accurate. The driver asked for identification before placing his bags in the cargo bay. Once satisfied, he had Miller board the bus.
When he climbed on he was surprised to see that only one other person was on the bus. He was obviously going to the same place Miller was. There was no mistaking the broad shoulders and trim fit of a well-conditioned military man. We could grow long hair but it would take more than that to disguise him, he thought.
The man gave him a once over as he climbed aboard. They were like two fighters, sizing each other up. Miller took a seat near the front and decided all he could do at this point was wait and see what this was all about. At 06:10 the bus pulled out of the lot. Within minutes they had left the city and were driving along a two lane highway.
The landscape became bleak as the desert began to takeover. They made two more stops, one in Fall City and one in Blackfoot. Only one person got on at each stop. It was pretty obvious that they were military too.
Each one scrutinized the others as they boarded the bus. The last man who boarded loomed over the rest of them. He was at least six foot six inches tall and looked like a NFL football player. Almost to a man they thought, ‘the bigger they come, the harder they fall’.
Again they were on their way and it appeared to Miller that they were headed deeper into the desert. At some point they turned off the two lane highway and entered a secondary road that was just barely visible with the snow falling. They drove for another half hour, not seeing other vehicle, until they stopped at a large area secured by razor wire that stretched as far as he could see.
“If everyone would disembark now and pick up your gear, you will be taken to your next destination,” the driver informed them.
Miller and the others got off and the frigid desert winter air almost took their breath away. A thermometer on the guardhouse said that it was –20 degrees. Somehow knowing that little bit of information made it suddenly seem even colder. He didn’t think it was possible to snow when it was this cold. It was just one of the lessons he was about to learn.
He was thankful his luggage had arrived or he would be standing there in a light weight windbreaker. One of the men turned and said something to the guy standing next to him but the man didn’t reply. He turned to the guy on the other side and asked a question but again he was ignored. Finally he shrugged and put his hands in his pockets and waited.
A few minutes later, two Hummers raced up and skidded to a halt. A heavily bundled up man got out of each of the vehicles and started loading their luggage. They didn’t talk and had the luggage stowed away in seconds. Each one was about the same height and build as the rest of the men Miller had seen so far with the exception of the last guy who got on the bus. He wondered if they had a little machine that spit out carbon copies. They were told to get in and within minutes they were whisked away.
The Hummer headed across the tarmac and was soon bouncing along a dirt and stone road. No one said a word or even looked at the others around him. The snow was falling harder and the road would disappear occasionally but it didn’t slow the driver as they continued deeper into the desert. Finally they skidded to a stop near a large building that was hard to distinguish from the landscape.
“Gentlemen,” the driver said, “This is your immediate destination. Please enter through that door,” he said, pointing to where he wanted them to go.
The building was a square block. It looked like it had just been dropped in the middle of the lot and had no redeeming features that Miller could see. The only windows were on the top floor of the three story building and there were several garage doors along the one wall that he could see.
“We will take care of your belongings. You will be met inside and told what to do,” the driver told them.
The four men climbed out of the Hummer and went inside.
“Gentlemen, welcome. This is the home of Strike–1. We understand that you have questions but please be patient and everything will be explained in time. Now if you will follow me,” he said, turning and leading them down a long cinder block hall.
Pictures of past Presidents were hung every three feet on one side of the wall and pictures of military men on the other. Miller didn’t recognize any of the military pictures but noticed they were from different branches of the service from around the world.
He also noticed the guide had on a camo military uniform but no rank insignia. He was cut from the same mold as the rest of the men he had seen so far but his hair was longer. There was nothing to tell them if he was an officer, NCO or enlisted. He opened the door to a large conference room and they were ushered inside and seated. It was dimly lit and a podium was situated on a small riser. Two new men entered the room. They had on the same uniform but like the other man, no identifying insignia.
“Men, I am Number One. That is how you will address me while you are in this unit. Your names are no longer a means of identification. You may have noticed that no one has an insignia to designate their rank. We have no ranking except for our numbers. Our numbers are our rank and indicate the pecking order. You,” he said, pointing to the man next to Miller, “Are 24A. You are 24B, 24C, and 24D.” Each man would only be called by that designation from this point. 24B was Miller’s new name. He supposed it could have been worse.
“You have been chosen to potentially become a member of the Strike-1 Team. Only one of you will succeed. You are already outstanding candidates simply because you have made it this far. This is only the second time we have had four potential candidates at the same time.”