A New World: Conspiracy (9 page)

During the short hop back to Cabela’s, I
talk with Frank and Bannerman about emptying one of the smaller
shipping containers and having it brought into the loading dock.
Setting down in the parking lot, I see a multitude gathering
already. Shutting down, Lynn steps out to be greeted by a host of
people; some shaking her hand, some clapping her on the shoulder,
while others wrap her in quick hugs, welcoming her back.

I continue sitting in the right seat
watching the others greet her with warm smiles. Frank and Bannerman
give her the biggest of hugs and then step to the side, apparently
waiting for me. I give them a head nod and remain in my seat. I’m
joyous to have Lynn back and can feel the uplift in energy from our
group of survivors. However, I also feel drained. It’s normal to
have a post-adrenaline letdown, but I feel like I have no energy
left at all. I’m tired and don’t want to move from the seat…and not
sure I could even if I wanted.

Before long, the Stryker and Humvees of the
other teams crest the hill. Heads turn toward the arriving teams
and slump in sadness. Yes, Lynn’s arrival is bittersweet. The
vehicles arrive and park. I climb wearily from the cockpit and
stand with the door open. Lynn shakes a few more hands, then
gathers the remaining teams and arranges them in two rows leading
away from Drescoll’s Humvee. Drescoll himself exits and walks
slowly around the vehicle.

“Atten-hut!” Lynn calls. The team members in
the lines snap to attention.

Drescoll doesn’t appear to notice his
surroundings as he picks up Allie’s body and walks with her between
the two lines of teams toward the building.

“Present…arms!” Lynn calls out.

The soldiers present in the lines snap sharp
salutes as Drescoll carries the limp body of McCafferty in his
arms. I join the salutes as does Bannerman and Frank. There are
many salutes in the crowd that have gathered to welcome Lynn back –
these from the soldiers we picked up during our sorties to other
bases. There are very few dry eyes within the entire group as
Drescoll carries one of our own into Cabela’s.

Looking to the side, I see our prisoner
kneeling on the warm pavement with a contingent of armed guards
surrounding him. With a heavy sigh and even heavier heart, I nod
toward Frank. He gathers Bannerman and they make their way to me.
Catching Robert’s and Bri’s eyes, I motion them to me as well. Lynn
dismisses the teams and joins us. A shadow falls over us, mirroring
our mood, as the high clouds that had been pushing inland finally
cover the sun.

“We’ve been clearing a small shipping
container as you requested. There’s enough space just inside the
loading area for it and we should have it placed within the hour,”
Bannerman says.

“Good. Have the doors face inward. I want it
rigged with sturdy overhead rings with some bolted to the floor
under them. Place hooks in the rear to secure chains and arrange
the chains so we can attach manacles. I want our prisoner secured
with short leg chains to the floor and wrists to chains leading
through the upper rings. Lengthen them so he can kneel, but no
farther. Place guards outside the container day and night. He is to
have no sleep and be woken every hour with a bucket of cold water.
If we can have recordings of loud, obnoxious sounds played
constantly within the container, that would be nice. Crying babies
work best,” I state.

“What about sanitation?” Bannerman asks.

“None needed. He can go where he stands,” I
say, noticing Frank nod his approval. “Leave instructions for the
guards not to talk with him or answer anything. We’re going to
leave him in isolation for a while before we even begin.”

“I probably know the answer to this, but
what about food and water,” Bannerman asks.

“None,” I answer. “Robert, Bri, go find
Craig and the Spooky crew. Gather your gear and meet me back here.
As much as I hate to leave at a time like this, we need to destroy
that hospital while we know the night runners are there, and to
search the area for the shooter’s team. I’m sure he has others out
there. We need to find them.”

Robert lowers his head, “Um….Dad…” he says,
hesitating.

I feel the sorrow in my heart increase.
“Yeah, that’s right…McCafferty,” I say with a sigh. “Is there
anyone else that can monitor her position?”

“I’ll do it,” Lynn says almost before I can
finish. “I’m tired of staying around here while you go gallivanting
off, and I want to take an active role for a change.”

“But you’re a huge part here. I mean,
without you, we wouldn’t—” I start to say.

“You know what I mean,” she interrupts.

I see the exhaustion in her eyes and the
loss of weight she sustained during her ordeal.

“Hon, you need to rest,” I say.

“Don’t even! Yes I’m tired, but I want to be
a part of taking that place down,” she says, fiercely. Her lips are
drawn tight and her eyes flare with anger…or the thought of
exacting vengeance.

Even through her tired eyes I recognize that
look. I really do think she needs to eat and rest, but what she
said makes sense. Given what she had to put up with – some of which
I can’t even imagine – she has a right to take part in the lair’s
destruction. I know there’s not much that could keep me from
wanting that were I in her position.

“Okay. Robert, brief her and fill her in on
the position. We don’t have a tremendous amount of daylight left,
and I want to be back soon,” I respond. Turning to Frank, I add,
“Can you arrange the services for McCafferty? I’m thinking early
evening before the sun starts heading down. We’ll be back before
then.”

“Sure thing, Jack,” Frank replies.

With nothing much else to say, Robert, Bri,
and Lynn depart to gather the crew, Bannerman and Frank to finish
the arrangements for our guest, leaving me standing by the open
door of the Kiowa. I notice said guest kneeling with the guards
standing over him. Anger crowds inside, sharing space with the
sorrow over Allie. I hate losing people but, someone like
McCafferty should be enjoying her life and giving the world the
gift of her smile. And the fact that she took a bullet meant for
me…I feel my blood pressure increase. Slamming the door closed, I
march over to the prisoner.

He looks up as I arrive. He still has the
same deadpan expression, although I see a tiredness in his eyes.
This speaks of several nights of lost sleep which will make his
upcoming sleep deprivation all that much more effective. We lock
eyes as I kneel in front, bringing us to the same level.

“Did I mention that you missed?” I ask,
staring hard into his eyes.

He gives no reply, but I know I hit a spot
with him by the hardening of his stare and a slight tightening of
his lips. That’s good to know. He may be hard, but hard does break.
He’s obviously not used to failure. We may be able to use this, but
it’s equally obvious that he’s a professional.

“But, I guess that’s kind of obvious eh? I
mean with me standing here and you, well, tied up. That must be so
disappointing for you. I mean, coming all that way only to miss
like that. Damn, I can only imagine how much that must suck. And
then to get captured…wow. I bet you were contemplating how to come
back and do the job and then, well, here you are.” I continue to
stare into his eyes.

I notice, just for the briefest of moments,
that the hardness in his eyes changes. When I mentioned coming all
that way, they took on a questioning look, wondering how much I
know already. If I wasn’t looking for it, I might have missed it,
but watching as closely as I was, it was as apparent as if he
cocked his head to the side. It was there for only a flash and then
back to staring at me like we were two fighters in a ring receiving
our fighting instructions. I can also see that the continued
reminder of his failure is causing his lips to compress even
more.

Some interrogations aren’t looking for
actual answers, but rather, reactions to questions. The initial
questions are to analyze tactics that might work and, depending on
the reactions, the way in to which to ask the questions and how to
orient the interrogation. He is steeling himself against questions,
not statements. He may be guarded, but not as much as he likes to
think. We’ll have discussions rather than question/answer
times.

The other secret is to not let the other
know that you’ve learned something. You can use that knowledge
later and let them guess how you know. If you let on right away,
they’ll notice and shut down. And, in that way, you can catch them
off guard with the knowledge at a later time.

“Look, you’re obviously a professional, so
you know how this is played out. And knowing the game, you know how
this ends…every time. There’s no escaping the inevitable. Save
yourself the time and some obvious discomfort by just telling us
what we’ll figure out anyway. Who sent you?” I say. He remains
silent.

This is the type of questioning he is
looking for and what he can protect himself against. I really
didn’t expect him to say anything. The question was asked because
he expected it. It was also a way for me to cover up the parts of
his personality I discovered. If I had left it with just the
statements, he would think something was amiss and shut down even
more.

“Okay,” I say, rising, “have it your way. We
know where your team is located. You can save them. It’s on your
head whether they live or die.”

The silent stare remains, but the
questioning look in his eyes is there again. The question of
whether a team is out there or not is answered. The expression was
a fearful one and not a look of smugness, so I know the team is
small and vulnerable. Now we just have to find them.

“No? Okay, I hope none of them are your
friends. I’m actually looking forward to the little chats we’re
going to have. You may not like them much, but I’m going to enjoy
them immensely.”

“Bugger off, mate,” he responds.

He may not know it, but he screwed up by
uttering that. Some are broken by torture and pain, others by,
believe it or not, kindness. Everyone has their button, and it’s
just a matter of finding out what they are; his weaknesses are
anger and pride. Make him angry, twist his words around, confuse
him and he rises to a direct confrontation, but take hits at that
which he takes pride in and he’ll react. It’s always a matter of
bringing an emotional response; fear, anger, even feeling safe.
Eventually almost everyone breaks. It’s a rare person that doesn’t.
Everyone thinks they can hold out, but in truth, few can.

Lynn emerges from the main building with
Robert, Bri, Craig, and the other crew members in tow. Some of my
anger, which is the sorrow at losing McCafferty turned inward, is
alleviated by the sight of Lynn strolling across the pavement. I
feel my heart blossom at seeing her back with us...back with me.
The anxiety of her being taken was killing me.

“See ya soon…mate,” I say with a wink to the
prisoner and head to meet the others.

* * * * * *

I feel the clunk of the wheels as they
retract into the wheel wells. The green lights indicating gear
positions wink off; first the nose gear and then the mains. With
the engines at full power and the Spooky cleaned up, we claw for
altitude beneath on overcast layer of clouds. A quiet, professional
calm permeates the interior, but with an underlying element of
tension with the loss of McCafferty. This is more than just a
mission to take out the night runners who took Lynn; it’s coupled
with a mission to find the others responsible for the loss of
Allie. It won’t bring her back, but we’ll exact a measure of
satisfaction by taking down those responsible. We just have to find
them first.

“Robert, do we need to head to the range for
a quick rehearsal?” I ask over the intercom.

The question is meant to ask if Lynn is up
to speed with her console duties or whether we need to make a few
practice runs.

“No, we’re good to go back here,” he
answers.

“Okay. Turning south now. We’ll be on target
in about ten minutes.”

“Copy that. We’ll be ready by then.”

Mount Rainier swings into view as I bank the
aircraft around, the snow-covered mountain’s flanks angle upward
until they disappear into the clouds. The ground vanishes under our
nose, but is largely unnoticed, as we run through our checks,
setting up for our run on the target. The quick thought of having
the aircraft looked over by the mechanic we brought back with us
cycles through my mind as we aim for the hospital. The city of
Olympia, housing thousands upon thousands of night runners, unfolds
below us.

Somewhere below is also the team that
accompanied the captured sniper. We’ll have to act quickly to
locate them. Once the shooter doesn’t return, they’ll know
something is amiss and either bug out or take another crack. They
have the advantage as they know where we are and we don’t know
their location. That will have to change.

Leveled off at five thousand feet, the
hospital becomes visible on our nose. Our checks have been
completed and we are good to go for our run in to the target.
Images of the night runners inside as Lynn and I were chased
through the darkened corridors flash through my mind. There may not
be that many inside, but any dent we can make in their population
can only help. And, unlike hitting what we thought was a major lair
previously, the night runners inside won’t have had a night to
escape. It is certain that they are still there.

The hospital slides to the side of our path
as I make a change to our heading and set up an orbit. I feel a
pang in my chest seeing the front of the structure where we were
trapped by the sniper and lost McCafferty. Seeing the entire
complex sends a shiver up my spine as I can’t help but think about
the ordeal Lynn went through and how close we came to not making it
out. I hear Robert make a last minute check-in with each station as
we circle.