CHAPTER SEVENTY
The commander walked down the hall to Number One’s quarters and knocked on the door. Miller opened the door and was surprised to see him standing there. The commander had never been to his quarters before. It was usually the other way around. He was usually the one summoned to the commander’s quarters.
“Sorry to barge in on you but I need to talk to you and this is off the record,” he said.
“Sure. Come on in.”
The commander entered and sat down on the ottoman in front of an armchair.
“Can I get you anything? I have Diet Coke and Root Beer.”
The commander laughed, “I could have guessed.”
“What?”
“Nothing. What I am about to ask you goes no further than this room for now. Agreed?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. As you are aware we are asked to take on missions that either the government wants to keep secret or disavow if something goes wrong. We get the jobs that everyone else is smart enough to pass on. What is unusual is that I have been asked to personally direct this next mission. I would never step on someone’s toes without first explaining the situation.”
“I see. So if I read this right, I would not be Number Two.”
“No. You are still Number Two. I would fill the Number One slot and you would be second in command. I don’t like it especially, but this is what I was asked to do.”
Miller shrugged, “What can I say? I don’t really have a choice do I?”
“Not really. Not this time,” the commander replied.
“Then I guess that is the way it has to be. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Has this anything to do with my performance? If it does, I would rather be left off the mission.”
“Absolutely not. You have to trust me on this. If it was performance related I would be the first to tell you right out. Have you ever seen me pull any punches when it comes to the efficiency of the team?”
“No. It’s just a bit of a letdown. It isn’t often that Number One goes into the field.”
“I understand. I would feel exactly the same way and have the same questions as you do. We aren’t very different. You will retain the previous position of when this mission is over. The only thing different on this mission is that I would like you to be the one to pick the team members. Don’t draw numbers. You select who you want to go along.”
“I’ll take care of it. I can have it to you within the hour if you would like.”
“That would be excellent. We are on a short fuse and as soon as you have them selected, get them to the ready room,” the commander said.
“Will do. And don’t worry, I can handle it.”
“I never doubted it for a second.”
The general stood looking at the two security guards. They had just finished telling their story about Angie Beck.
“That was sloppy work and totally unprofessional. I pay you out of special funds, on top of your regular pay, so that you will be the best, and this is what I get? Hell, I could get some dumbass to handle it that way. What the hell were you thinking? Anyone could have seen you. Christ almighty,” he said flopping down on the edge of his desk.
“Sir, it all happened so fast and we couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t try to complete the call. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Hell, cut the phone line you blockhead. Smash the window and jerk it out of her hand. I know, how about this, the lever to hang up was outside the car window. Why not just cut the connection?”
“We didn’t think of that. All we thought about was stopping her.”
“And you’re sure she never completed dialing?”
“Yes sir.”
“Is he right?” he asked the other guard.
“Yes sir.”
“Gentlemen I am very disappointed in your ability to handle this situation professionally. I want you to take her car over to range 64 and park it with the other cars they use for target practice. Take her body out and bury her in Tikaboo Valley, far away from home plate. Do you think you can manage that?”
“Yes sir, general,” the both said.
“Good. Get out of my sight. I want to know when you finish this task. Report directly back to me, understand?”
“Yes sir.”
The general had to smile. It really didn’t make all that much difference. He was going to have her eliminated when the BlackStar was in orbit and operational anyway so the timing made little difference. The two security men would be shaking in their boots, he thought, as a smile crossed his face. He tweaked a line from Apocalypse Now. God, I love the smell of power in the morning, it smells like victory.
He drove out to S-4 and took the elevator to Level-10. The BlackStar was sitting on a motorized dolly. He found Gimbel hunched over a laptop computer.
“I think we can start loading tomorrow. We will keep the same routine. I’ll have Level-1 cleared and we will take it up at 02:15. We will load it on a truck and take it directly to hanger 18. Only you and your team will be allowed in the hanger until it is loaded and the cargo bay doors are closed,” he told him.
“What if we need some help of some kind?”
“Send for me. I’ll determine the course of action,” the general said.
“Very well. We will finish covering it later this afternoon and have it ready to take to Level-1 at 2:15 a.m.,” Gimbel replied.
He used civilian time just to piss off the general. It was a small victory but gratifying nonetheless.
“Fine. I will see you then. I will be getting some shut-eye if you need me for anything,” Devin said.
Gimbel had been waiting until the last minute to upload the program that would make the BlackStar operational. It was his insurance policy in case the general slipped over the edge. He knew Devin was definitely insane, but having to work with someone like that was the price he was willing to pay for the fame he would soon have.
Like the general, he had a trump card up his sleeve as well. He had embedded a sub file code in the programming that would need a protected password to activate the firing sequence of the BlackStar. If the wrong password was entered, a worm would be released and erase the entire command control. The BlackStar would tumble out of orbit and crash into the earth's atmosphere. He wasn’t about to take a chance on the general’s sanity to keep him alive.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
“I gotta’ go take a leak. You want me to bring you another beer?”
“Sure. I hope you don’t mean that like it sounded,” he quipped, “And if we have anything to eat, bring that too.”
“I think we have some pretzels but I don’t know how stale they are. They were in the Jeep, open all night.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing. Bring them and I’ll munch on them,” he said, looking through the night vision glasses at Hammer Road.
It was the infamous road where the secret black mailbox was located. He stood leaning against the front of the Jeep. The pay was good but it was damn boring out here night after night with nothing to do but drink beer, watch a few planes land and take off, and sleep.
“Hey, did you fall in back there? How about a beer before I die of thirst,” he said lowering the glasses.
A hand slid up and around his face, yanking his head back as a knife slit his throat, severing his esophagus and vocal cords. He slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The six men emerged from the darkness. They were aware that the security patrols had night vision capabilities but they were the older fourth generation units. Strike-1 had the latest technology, far superior to the older versions. No one needed to say a word; they all knew exactly what to do next.