Navy SEAL Grant Stevens: Code Name Antares Part 3

The three men kept up a steady conversation, talking military most of the time. Grant noticed that not once did Reilly take his eyes from the road, except to glance in the rear- and side view mirrors, nor did he question the purpose of this evening's trip.

"Excuse me a minute, sirs." He reached for the mike again, reporting ETA in forty-five minutes. He'd make the same call three more times.

Thirty-five minutes later, they were on Park Central Road, a dark, winding blacktop, leading deeper into Catoctin Mountain Park. Posted at the entrance was a sign: Closed December - March. Official Vehicles Only.

With high beams lighting the way, the vehicle eventually turned right onto an unmarked road. Signs warned they were entering a U.S. military installation with restricted access.

Turning off the high beams, Reilly left parking lights on and slowed down. Bright overhead spotlights provided enough light at the guard house, where two Marines waited at the entrance, with one stationed at the exit. All had rifle straps slung over their shoulders, and weapons in side holsters.

Two guards stepped closer as Reilly rolled down his window. He was a familiar figure, having made this same trip many times over the past six months.

Grant and Adler handed over their IDs. The Marine leaned toward the open windows, comparing the two faces to the IDs. As he did, the second guard casually walked around the vehicle looking in windows. The inspection was made only in a cursory manner, since all details had been delivered earlier in the day. The guards knew who and how many to expect.

Returning the IDs, the guard gave a quick salute, then waved them through.

No more than fifty yards past the guardhouse was a perimeter road that circled the entire property, with a chain link fence outside it. Just beyond was a sign: Camp David.

Chapter 5.

The Dodge started up a slight incline, leading to the front of Holly Cabin. Nestled in the trees, the one story, gray-colored building was once the original Laurel Lodge where presidents held conferences and greeted dignitaries from throughout the world. Small pole lamps lit up a blacktop path leading to a screened porch. Interior lights glowed from every window. Smoke, rising from a brick chimney, permeated the air.

A Secret Service agent, wearing a black raincoat, came from inside the screened porch. He spoke softly into his wrist mike. "Visitors have arrived." Posting himself on the path, he stood with his hands folded in front of him.

Reilly got out, nodded toward the agent, then hurried around to the pa.s.senger side, opening both front and rear doors. "The agent will escort you from here, sirs. I'll be waiting whenever you're ready to leave."

"Thanks, Staff Sergeant," Grant said. "C'mon, Joe."

The two walked up the path, both curious and anxious about the upcoming meeting with President Andrew Carr.

With only a brief nod, the agent led them onto the porch, knocked, then opened the cabin door. Once Grant and Adler had entered, he posted himself directly outside the door.

The President greeted them from across the room. "Captain! Lieutenant! Great to see you both!" He walked toward them with his arm extended.

"Mr. President," Grant said, smiling, as he shook Carr's hand, returning the firm grip.

"Mr. President," Adler said.

"Take off your jackets. Just hang them in that closet, then join me," Carr said, motioning with a hand toward a couch. Normally dressed in a suit, this evening the President wore a pair of dark blue slacks, an open-collar white shirt, and a dark, red cardigan sweater.

A wood fire blazed in the stone fireplace opposite the couch. A bra.s.s, three-panel folding screen was on the brick hearth, keeping burning embers at bay.

As Grant and Adler walked to the couch, Carr said, "Sit, please." The two men complied. "'Captain' and 'lieutenant' are pretty formal, gentlemen. Would you mind if I called you 'Grant' and 'Joe'?"

Grant nodded. "We wouldn't mind at all, sir."

Carr pointed to a tray on the coffee table that held a pitcher of water, gla.s.ses, and a bucket of ice. "How about something to drink? Maybe some coffee."

"Not for me, but thanks," Grant responded.

Adler followed Grant's lead. "No thanks, sir."

Carr sat on a wooden, hand-made rocker. His eyes went from Grant to Adler as he spoke. "Gentlemen, let me thank you again for the remarkable job you did with the China incident. G.o.d only knows how many lives you saved, including the Vice President's. By the way, have you talked with or do you know how those two SEALs are doing?"

Grant responded. "We haven't spoken to them personally, but understand they're with their Team, ready for another mission."

"Typical for you SEALs, right?" Carr laughed.

"Yes, sir. Always ready," Grant responded.

Carr rocked back and forth slowly, with an expression that changed almost immediately. "I'm sorry you had to come out here, but I felt this was the safest place for us to discuss a . . . situation."

"Fewer 'eyes and ears'?" Grant asked, now more concerned than ever. If the President didn't feel comfortable talking in the White House, something very "heavy" must be going down.

"Exactly," Carr responded. "What we're about to discuss is top secret."

"Excuse me, sir, but before you begin, will we be able to bring in the rest of the Team, or will only Joe and I be involved?"

"Why don't I tell you first, then you decide what's best."

"Very well, sir."

Carr's worry was evident. "First let me say that there are only two other people who are aware that I'm talking with you tonight. NSA General Prescott and SECDEF Daniels."

He let out a breath, then started rocking. "Gentlemen, we are confident there's a traitor within the DoD."

Grant and Adler gave each other a quick look. How many times during their Navy careers did they wonder if their involvement in finding and capturing a traitor--or foreign mole--would be their last time? But it was happening again, this time on U.S. soil.

Carr continued. "What we are dealing with has to do with a laser guided weapon developed by the Navy." He held up a hand, palm facing the two men. "Now I know what you're thinking. Laser guided weapons aren't anything new. And you'd be correct. They've been around for years. Several countries already have them, even Russia. But this particular weapon is special." He reached for a folder on the coffee table, stamped with red letters TOP SECRET, then handed the folder to Grant. "Take a look at those photos and drawings."

Adler scooted closer to Grant as Grant opened the folder. The photograph showed a weapon, similar to a rifle, slightly more compact, but unlike any rifle either one of them had ever seen.

As they examined the black and white photos, Carr explained, "That's a laser guided rifle, completely computerized."

"Computerized?" Grant asked with wrinkled brow.

"That's right. The developers were able to use the same computer technology designed for the Apollo s.p.a.cecraft. There's a lot in that report," he pointed toward the folder, "that I don't completely understand. But think about it. A rifle that can be programmed, controlled by computer, has its own GPS. Just set it and forget it--or so I've been told." He gave a half smile, then added, "If you read further into that report, you'll see there's the possibility the design could be altered into almost any size for mounting on ships, planes, or any military vehicle."

"This is fantastic," Adler said, holding two of the photos. "Mike would eat dirt for one of these," he laughed quietly.

"Mike?" Carr asked.

"Uh, yes, Mr. President," Adler answered. "Mike Novak is the Team's sniper."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Grant processed the information, then asked, "Mr. President, when was the prototype completed?"

"Two prototypes, Grant, and that was nearly a year ago. After successful testing, a limited number went into production. The factory was to begin production on another order in about a month."

And that's why we're here, Grant thought. "Has something happened to those production models?"

"Those first ten were stolen."

"Wow," Adler said under his breath.

Grant asked, "When?"

"Last night, around midnight."

"Anything else to go on, Mr. President? I mean, did it happen at the manufacturing plant or during transport?"

"During transport to Indian Head. As SOP, they were secured in special crates, five to a crate. The crates were loaded on a military truck, with a driver, a guard up front, and two riding with the crates. Those guards were well armed.

"About twenty miles from the base, along a deserted stretch of Palmer Road, the truck was attacked. The driver and guards were killed."

"Jesus," Grant said quietly. "Any indication how they made off with the weapons?"

"NIS (Naval Investigative Service) hasn't come up with anything yet. I've been told there wasn't any evidence indicating the crates were opened. No wood remnants, no screws, nothing. Whoever took them, took them completely intact."

"I'm a.s.suming, Mr. President, that whoever was in charge has been questioned?"

"Correct. At the plant and Indian Head." Carr took the lid off the ice bucket, used tongs to put ice into a tall gla.s.s, then started pouring water. "You sure I can't get you something?" The two men declined.

Carr swallowed some water. "Not everyone's been questioned, though. I'm sure NIS will continue interviewing and weeding out individuals who may have had more knowledge of the weapon design. There isn't much I can do to slow down the investigation without causing suspicion. Now, I know you boys worked for Admiral Torrinson at NIS not long ago, so you should know how those folks operate."

"Yes, sir." Grant's eyes narrowed as he began interpreting Carr's statement. "Mr. President, I'm getting the impression you want us to 'fly under the radar' on this one."

"You're right, Grant. You'll be conducting a, shall we say, private investigation. I don't want any departments to think I'm stepping on toes, but I also don't want that many involved at this point. We are sure of one traitor, but who's to say there aren't more involved, and from possibly different departments." Carr sipped on some water. "So, have you decided if you'll need your whole Team?"

"I think it'll be best, Mr. President. And I'd like to bring in Agent Mullins. As in the last operation, Scott will have responsibility for lining up refueling, transportation needs, and equipment that might be necessary. He's an invaluable a.s.set to the Team, sir."

Carr rolled the gla.s.s between his palms. "Understand, and you ask for anything you deem necessary." He put the gla.s.s on the coffee table. "I know you'd like your man to get familiar with one of those, but I don't know if there'll be time for training."

"Mike's a smart guy, Mr. President. With your approval, I could send him to Indian Head for a day of training while we begin our investigation."

"I'll start the ball rolling tonight. Have him go directly to Indian Head in the morning. He'll report to Captain Ramsay." Carr stood, with Grant and Adler immediately following. The meeting was just about over.

"Mr. President, who should I contact with any further questions or if I have updates?" Grant asked.

"Have Agent Mullins contact me directly. A call from the State Department will less likely be questioned."

"Very well, sir."

"Anything else, Grant?"

"No, sir. Joe and I will start immediately when we meet the Team."

"Speaking of which. . . you should probably give one of your men a call from here. The staff sergeant will drive you back to the Memorial." Carr pointed to a door. "There's a phone in my office."

Five minutes later Grant joined Carr and Adler near the front door.

Adler had his hand on the k.n.o.b, when the Secret Service agent opened it, then stepped aside.

"Grant, Joe," Carr said, "this isn't the first time the country will be depending on you."

Grant returned Carr's firm handshake. "We'll do our very best, Mr. President, and as quickly as possible."

Chapter 6.

Palmer Road Near the accident scene Tuesday - Day 2 0030 Hours Two Chevy SUVs drove along Palmer Road, slowing down as they approached where the attack occurred. Grant had the entire Team with him, knowing he'd need every pair of eyes to search for clues, especially in the dark. They couldn't hold off and wait until daylight. Time was of the essence.

As soon as the SUVs stopped, the seven men jumped out. Stalley and Diaz grabbed a couple of emergency flares, setting them in front and behind the vehicles.

Grant turned on a flashlight, the beam settling on an area just off the shoulder. "Looks like that's where the truck ended up," he commented, before turning toward his men. "I don't know what the h.e.l.l we're looking for, but there's gotta be something that'll give us a clue on who pulled this off and maybe how. Spread out." With flashlight beams leading their way, the men began scouring the area.

Novak moved the light back and forth along blacktop. "Anybody find any casings?!"

Six responses came back: "Negative!"

"NIS probably confiscated all the physical evidence they could carry," Grant commented.

"Looks like this was where NIS may have 'planted' at least one flare!" Slade shouted as he continued walking along the asphalt.

Suddenly, a set of high beams came around a curve. Slade swung his flashlight back and forth, aiming it low. The distinctive staccato sound of "jake brakes" warned them a big rig was approaching. The truck slowed, then rolled to a stop. The driver leaned his head out the window. "Everything okay here?!"

Slade walked closer to the cab. "Yeah. Everything's under control. Thanks."

The trucker shifted into gear, but kept looking in his large, side view mirror. Slade stood in the middle of the road, watching until lights were no longer visible. "Hey, boss, think that guy might call the cops?"

"Can't worry about him, Ken."

"Skipper!" Adler called. "Take a look at this!"

Grant jogged to where Adler was standing, just along the shoulder, about twenty yards away from where the truck ended up in the ditch. "Whatcha got, Joe?" he asked, with his eyes following the flashlight beam toward trees.

Adler moved the light in a circle on the ground. "See that?" Without waiting for Grant to answer, he directed the light up toward the top of the trees, then made an arc with it until it pointed to the opposite side.