The Outlaws_ A Presidential Agent Novel Part 10

When the Office of Organizational a.n.a.lysis had been disbanded and its men and women ordered to vanish from the face of the earth, Casey had had a private word with Castillo about them.

Neither Bradley nor Lorimer had a family-perhaps more accurately: a family into whose arms they would be welcomed with joy-and neither had skills readily convertible to earning a decent living as a civilian. There was not much of a market for a one-legged Spanish/English/Portuguese interpreter, or for a five-foot-two, hundred-thirty-pound twenty-year-old who could give marksmanship instruction to Annie Oakley. Further, there was the problem that they, too, were expected to fall off the face of the earth and never be seen again.

Both men, Casey had told Castillo, had become skilled in the use of the state-of-the-art communications equipment that OOA had been using. Casey intended to keep providing similar equipment to Delta Force, and with some additional training, Bradley and Lorimer could a.s.sume responsibility for training Delta troopers to operate and maintain it.

So far as their falling off the face of the earth, Casey said, they would be hard to find in Las Vegas and next to impossible to find if they moved in with him at the home Charley Who had built for the Caseys on a very expensive piece of mountainside real estate that overlooked Las Vegas. Now that Mrs. Casey had finally succ.u.mbed to an especially nasty and painful carcinoma, there was n.o.body in the place but the Mexican couple who took care of Casey.

And to keep them busy when they weren't dealing with the equipment for Delta Force, or keeping an eye on the communications network used by those people, they would be welcomed-and well paid-by the gaming industry as experts in the digital photo recognition and data system.

Not thirty seconds after Casey had handed Lorimer and Bradley their new cell phones, vibration announced an incoming message on the peoples' circuit, and Casey thought he had inadvertently pressed the CHECK FUNCTIONING key.

But he checked the screen and saw that there was indeed an incoming message.

It's from Colonel Hamilton.

I wonder what the h.e.l.l he wants.

When, inside his Level A hazmat gear, Colonel J. Porter Hamilton had pressed the TRANSMIT b.u.t.ton for his cellular phone, and given his name, the following had happened: An integral voice recognition circuit had determined that he was indeed Colonel J. Porter Hamilton and, at about the time a satellite link had been established between Hamilton and Las Vegas, had announced that Encryption Level One was now active.

By the time Hamilton spoke again to report the delivery of biohazardous material to his laboratory and what he planned to do about it, the cell phones in the hands of those people had vibrated to announce the arrival of an incoming call. Their cell phones automatically recorded the message, and then sent a message to Hamilton's phone that the message had been received and recorded.

He had then broken the connection.

When those called "answered" their telephones, either when the call was first made, or whenever they got around to it, they would hear the recorded message. A small green LED on the telephone would indicate that the caller was at that moment on the line. A red LED would indicate the caller was not.

Casey saw that the red LED was illuminated.

Hamilton's off-line.

I wonder what he wanted.

As he touched the ANSWER key, he saw that both Lester and Peg-Leg were doing the same thing.

Hamilton's message was played to them all.

"I wonder what the h.e.l.l that's all about," Casey wondered out loud.

"He said, 'identical to what I brought out of the Congo,'" Peg-Leg said. "What did he bring out of the Congo?" did he bring out of the Congo?"

Both Peg-Leg and Aloysius looked at Lester, whose face was troubled.

"You know what Hamilton's talking about, Lester?" Casey asked.

Bradley looked even more uncomfortable.

Casey waited patiently, and was rewarded for his patience.

"Colonel Torine would, sir," Bradley said finally.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Aloysius'?" Casey said.

He pushed a b.u.t.ton on his CaseyBerry.

"Jake? Aloysius," he said a moment later. "Got a minute? Can you come to my lab?"

"Captain Sparkman would know, too," Bradley said.

"Sparkman with you?" Casey said to his telephone, and a moment later, "Bring him, too."

Casey pushed another b.u.t.ton and said, "Pa.s.s Torine and Sparkman," and then looked at Peg-Leg and Lester. "They're in the hangar."

He pointed upward.

Colonel Jacob Torine, USAF (Retired), and Mr. Richard Sparkman (formerly Captain USAF) got off the elevator ninety seconds later.

They were dressed almost identically in khaki trousers, polo shirts, and zipper jackets, and had large multib.u.t.ton watches on their wrists. Their belts held cases for Ray-Ban sungla.s.ses. They both had clear blue eyes. No one would ever guess that they were pilots.

"What's up?

"Listen to this," Casey said, and handed him his Caseyberry, and motioned for Lester to hand his to Sparkman.

Both listened to Colonel J. Porter Hamilton's message.

Sparkman's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Torine said, "Oh, s.h.i.t!" and then asked, "When did you get this?"

"Just now."

"Not good news," Torine said. "What is the exact opposite of 'good news'?"

Casey said, "What's he talking about? What did he bring out of the Congo?"

Torine exhaled.

He looked around the laboratory.

"I don't suppose this place is bugged?"

Casey shook his head.

"We went over there in Delta's 727," Torine said. "It was painted in the color scheme of Sub-Saharan Airways-" He stopped. "Why am I telling you this? You know."

"Go on, Jake," Casey said.

"We landed at Kilimanjaro International in Tanzania. Uncle Remus and his crew went by truck to Bujumbura in Burundi. There's an airport at Bujumbura but Castillo decided we'd attract too much attention if we used it, particularly if we sat on the runway for a couple of days, maybe longer.

"Uncle Remus infiltrated Hamilton back into the Congo from Bujumbura. And then when Hamilton found what he found, and the s.h.i.t hit the fan, we got a message from Uncle Remus to move the airplane to Bujumbura, yesterday, and have it prepared for immediate takeoff.

"We were there about three hours when Uncle Remus, his crew, and Hamilton showed up. They had with them a half-dozen of what looked like rubber beer kegs. Blue."

He demonstrated with his hands the size of the kegs.

"Uncle Remus asked me if we could fly to the States with the HALO compartment depressurized and open."

"I don't understand that," Lester said. "'HALO compartment'?"

"For 'High Alt.i.tude, Low Opening' parachute infiltration from up to forty thousand feet," Peg-Leg explained. "The rear half-the HALO compartment-of the fuselage can be sealed off from the rest of the fuselage, and then, where that rear stairway was, opened to the atmosphere."

"Got it," Lester said.

"I told him yes," Torine went on, "and Hamilton said, 'Thank G.o.d,' as if he meant it.

"I asked him what was going on, and he told me the beer barrels contained more dangerous material than I could imagine, and extraordinary precautions were in order; he would explain later. He asked me how cold the HALO compartment would get in flight, and I told him probably at least sixty degrees below zero, and he said, 'Thank G.o.d,' again and sounded like he meant it this time, too.

"Then he and Uncle Remus and his team loaded the barrels in the HALO compartment. When they came out, everybody stripped to the skin. They took a shower on the tarmac using the fire engine and some special soap and chemicals Hamilton had with him. Then they put on whatever clothing we had aboard, flight suits, some other clothing, and got in the front, and we took off.

"Before we had climbed out to cruising alt.i.tude, we got some company, a flight of F/A-18E Super Hornets from a carrier in the Indian Ocean. They stayed with us until we were over the Atlantic, where they handed us over to some Super Hornets flying off a carrier in the Atlantic.

"We headed for North Carolina-Pope Air Force at Fort Bragg. We were refueled in flight halfway across the Atlantic and when the refueling was over, we were handed over to a flight of Air Force F-16s who stayed with us until we got to Pope.

"When we got to Pope, we were directed to the Delta hangar, and immediately towed inside and the doors closed. Then maybe two dozen guys in science-fiction movie s.p.a.ce suits swarmed all over the airplane. Some of them went into the HALO compartment and removed the barrels. I later learned they were sealed and then loaded aboard a Citation Three and flown to Washington.

"They took everybody off the airplane and gave us a bath. Unbelievable. Soap, chemicals, some kind of powder. It took half an hour. And then they held us-everybody but Hamilton and Uncle Remus; they went on the Citation with the barrels-for twenty-four hours for observation, gave us another bath, and finally let us go.

"General McNab was waiting for us-did I mention they held us in the hangar?-when they finally turned us loose. He gave us the standard speech about keeping this secret for the rest of our natural lives or suffer castration with a dull knife."

"What was in the barrels, Jake?" Casey asked softly. "Did Hamilton tell you?"

Torine nodded.

"He said two of them contained 'laboratory material' and the other four had 'tissue samples.' When I pressed him on that, he said that two of the barrels contained body parts from bodies he and Uncle Remus dug up near this place, and the other two held the bodies of two people, one black and one white, that Uncle Remus took down when they had to get into the laboratory. He said he needed them for autopsies."

"Jesus!" Casey said.

"And now we learn that not everything was destroyed," Sparkman said. "The word I got was there was nothing left standing or unburned in a twenty-square-mile area. What the h.e.l.l is this all about?"

"I don't know," Casey admitted. "But I just had this thought: It doesn't matter to you guys. OOA is dead. You've fallen off the face of the earth. You're out of the loop. This has nothing to do with you."

"Why don't I believe that, Aloysius?" Torine asked softly.

"Probably because you're an old fart like me, and have learned that when things are as black as they can possibly get, they invariably get worse."

[TWO].

U.S. Army Medical Research Inst.i.tute Fort Detrick, Maryland 0905 4 February 2007

The declaration of a Potential Level Four Disaster at Fort Detrick by Colonel J. Porter Hamilton, MC, caused a series of standing operating procedures to kick in-something akin to a row of dominoes tumbling, one domino knocking over the one adjacent, but in this instance d.a.m.ned faster.

When Master Sergeant Dennis called the post duty officer, he actually called the garrison duty officer. On coming to work for Colonel Hamilton, Dennis had quickly learned that the colonel often had trouble with Army bureaucracy and that it was his job to provide the colonel with what he wanted, which often was not what he asked for.

The garrison duty officer immediately expressed doubt that Master Sergeant Dennis was actually asking for what he said he was.

"A Potential Level Four Disaster? You sure about that, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. Colonel Hamilton said he was declaring a Potential Level Four Disaster."

The garrison duty officer consulted his SOP dealing with disasters, and checked who was authorized to declare one.

There were three people who could on their own authority declare a Potential Level Four Disaster: the garrison commander, Colonel J. Porter Hamilton, and the garrison duty officer.

"Let me speak to Colonel Hamilton, Sergeant," the garrison duty officer said.

"He's on his phone, Major. Now, do you want to send a Level Four van over here, personnel in Level One hazmat suits, or should I call for it?"

"You have that authority?"

"Yes, sir. I do. And I have authority to have Level Four BioLab Two opened and on standby. You want me to do that, too, sir?"

"Why don't you do that, Sergeant, while I bring the garrison commander up to speed on this. And, Sergeant, see if you can have Colonel Hamilton call her."

"Yes, sir," Master Sergeant Dennis said.

The duty officer called the garrison commander.

"Major Lott, ma'am. Ma'am, we seem to have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"Ma'am, Colonel Hamilton's sergeant just called and said the colonel wanted to declare a Potential Level Four Disaster."

There was a pause. Then the garrison commander said, "Let me make sure I understand the situation. You say Colonel Hamilton's sergeant called and told you Colonel Hamilton wants to declare a Potential Level Four Disaster? Is that it?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's it. I thought I'd better bring you up to speed on this, ma'am."

The garrison commander thought: What you were supposed to do, you stupid sonofab.i.t.c.h, was sound the G.o.dd.a.m.ned alarm sirens, get a Level Four van over to Hamilton, get a Level Four BioLab on emergency standby and then-and only then-call me. What you were supposed to do, you stupid sonofab.i.t.c.h, was sound the G.o.dd.a.m.ned alarm sirens, get a Level Four van over to Hamilton, get a Level Four BioLab on emergency standby and then-and only then-call me.

And you're a G.o.dd.a.m.n major?

Jesus H. Christ.

She said calmly: "Listen carefully. What I want you to do, Major, is first sound the alarm sirens. Then send a Level Four van to Colonel Hamilton's laboratory, and when you've done that, get a Level Four BioLab on emergency standby. Got all that?"