Mirrored Man: The Rob Tyler Chronicles Book 1 (20 page)

When Rob finished, Phil was quiet as he
organized his thoughts. Rob began to wonder if he should say
something else, but decided against it. He had given the man a lot
of information in the thirty or so minutes that they had been
together, so he waited.

Finally, the pastor spoke. “Well Rob, I
really appreciate your openness and honesty. I can only imagine
what it was like for you in your earlier job. I'm glad that you had
the opportunity to get into something more suited to your education
and that it gave you the opportunity to move to Summerville and
join us here at SCA.” He stopped and thought for a moment longer,
swiveling back and forth in his chair a few times. He turned around
and plucked a New International Version of the Bible from one of
the shelves behind him and turned back to face Rob before he
continued. “I'd like to read a passage or two, if it's
alright.”

Rob shrugged. “Please.”

“The first one is from Psalm one
thirty-nine.” He looked at Rob and back at the Bible as he flipped
through the pages. “I'm assuming the problem you're having is with
the experiment with genetics that your captain mentioned. Is that
right?”

“Yes.”

“Before I read this to you, I want to advise
you to prayerfully consider what you've been asked to do. I mean,
you didn't give me much to go on, so I'm not quite sure that I'm
gonna be able to help you much. But, I will try.”

Rob understood. With the limited information
he had given the pastor, it was going to be difficult for him to
give advice on what he should do. But maybe that's not actually
what Rob needed out of this meeting. Maybe he really needed to know
how to approach God with it so he would handle it the right
way.

Phil went on as he continued flipping pages.
“And, I also know that you don't have much time to decide so … ah,
here it is. Psalm one thirty-nine, verse thirteen. 'For you created
my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.'” He
looked back at Rob compassionately. “See, God created us. And he is
the one who is in control, ultimately. For man to try to manipulate
the terms of our existence, well, that's a no-no from a Christian
point of view. Unless it's to heal someone's illness or injury.
Then, maybe it's debatable. There are some gray areas there.” Phil
cocked his head to one side. “But it doesn't seem to me that you
know even that much about the project you've been asked to get
involved in, do you?”

“Only what I've told you,” Rob said. After a
brief pause, he added, “Well, the paperwork I received had a few
things I was asked to start right away, in case I accept the
assignment. A certain diet, an exercise regimen, things like that.
But no specific details.

“I see.” Phil thought for another moment. “I
like to use the analogy, 'the runway lights of life'. You see, if
we don't follow the signs we've been given, then we will crash and
burn like a pilot who ignores the lights of a runway. I guess the
best advice that I give you, besides praying of course, is to
consider what you know about your captain. Combine that with how
you feel in your gut about what he's asked you to do, and listen to
what God says to you through your faith in him.” He smiled.
“Wouldn't it be great if he would just speak to us verbally? Then
it would be easy.”

“That would sure work for me.”

Phil started flipping pages again and Rob
looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He hadn't realized that so
much time had passed, and he had a lunch date with his dad. He was
going to be late. “Well Brother Phil, I really appreciate your time
and your advice, but I don't want to take up too much of your day.”
Rob was speaking honestly. He had found some peace that morning and
the pastor had been a big part of it. He had a good idea of what he
needed to do to prepare himself for the task at hand.

“Just one more second, if you don't mind.”
Phil was still flipping pages. “There's one more verse that I want
to leave you with. “It's from the book of Matthew, chapter seven,
and verse twelve. 'So in everything, do to others what you would
have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the
Prophets.'”

The Golden Rule,
Rob thought. And
oddly enough, it fit the situation perfectly.

Brother Phil closed out their session in
prayer, and the men stood and shook hands. “I hope our meeting has
helped, Rob.”

“Well, you've given me a new perspective to
look at this situation from. That just might be a good thing … I
think.”

Phil smiled. “Trust God. He won't steer you
wrong.”

* * * * *

LATER THAT EVENING,
Rob found himself
staring at the blank email on his laptop sitting on his desk in the
den. The address line read: [email protected]. The subject
line he had left blank. The cursor was beckoning him to type the
single word that would answer the captain's very cryptic question.
Rob was leaning back in his chair in the darkened room illuminated
only by the computer. He was chewing on a pen that he had taken
from the World's Greatest Dad coffee mug next to the computer. The
children had been put to bed and Carol was watching the news in
their bedroom upstairs. She had been giving him a wide berth for
the past few days. On one hand, Rob appreciated her for
understanding the difficulties he had been placed under. She
hadn't asked any more about the subject since the ride home
from the airport. On the other hand, he hated having to make this
decision without her input. Since he had left the SEALs, she had
been involved in all of their important decision-making, and Rob
wanted her to be involved in this one, too. But he knew that if he
told her any more, she would have told him that she trusted his
judgment when it came to his career, while secretly dreading the
fact that Rob might be getting involved in anything that was
remotely connected with genetics.

On the other hand, his long time friend,
Captain Benny Walsh, had asked him to be a part of something that
Rob thought might be a good thing for the Navy and for his country.
Even if he only knew it by what he knew of the captain. Why else
would Benny have asked him to participate in the project? Surely
the captain hadn't pulled his name from a hat. No, there was a
process of elimination involved here. Benny hadn't arbitrarily
chosen him because of his good looks and sparkling personality. If
the captain had chosen him to be a part of an important project
that involved the defense of his nation, his countrymen, and his
family, it was because he, Commander Robert Orson Tyler, was the
best, most qualified candidate for the task.

But still … Benny had also made it clear
that a “no” answer was completely acceptable.

His eyes were growing weary and he longed
for the embrace of his wife. He stared at the cursor, blinking,
waiting patiently for his entry, for his answer.

Reaching for the keyboard, he typed one word
and then he clicked “Send.”

SPECIAL AGENT EDDIE
Perez of the
Naval Criminal Investigative Service sat next to the forward wall
of the transport vehicle, which was nothing more than a converted
semi truck trailer. Its dimly lit interior vaguely resembled that
of a C-130 Hercules aircraft with a row of eight jump seats on
either side, each with its own five-point harness, situated along
the forward half of the trailer. In the back were shrink-wrapped
pallets of goods stacked two wide and four deep, leaving the center
of the trailer free of obstacles. In the middle of the floor was a
six by ten hatch split down the middle. The scent mixture of
freshly cut wood, fruit, and diesel fumes assailed Eddie’s
nostrils, and was beginning to turn his stomach. He was dressed in
his normal slacks, white button-down shirt, and herringbone sports
jacket.

Seated around him were the members of his
team. The Major Case Response Team, or MCRT, had been dispatched on
special request from the Secretary of the Navy for this most
unusual assignment. They were ordered to travel to Robins Air Force
Base in central Georgia from their home base at Naval Station
Mayport on the east side of Jacksonville, Florida just that
morning.

Jo Turner, Eddie's second, was seated
directly across from him. She wore a gray pants suit and a yellow
blouse. The butt of her Sig Sauer P220 Compact forty-five caliber
pistol, which she preferred over the Beretta model 96 forty caliber
the rest of the team carried, could be seen on her right hip under
her jacket which was unbuttoned in the front. She claimed she
didn't need ten rounds to hit her target, and had proven it time
and again on the firing range. Her short curly blonde locks were in
disarray after the long car ride followed by the hour-long briefing
that amounted to not much more than a refresher course in national
security policy and the consequences of revealing anything to the
outside world about what they would soon see. Her green eyes were
closed. Maybe she was trying to get some rest as they traveled, but
it seemed more likely to Eddie that she was feeling the same
effects of the hideous potpourri. The thirty-seven-year old had
been with NCIS for five years after being recruited from the Miami
Police Department where she had worked vice for twelve years. She
was quite attractive, with delicate features and a deceptively
small five-foot-seven-inch frame. Eddie had doubted that she would
last through her probation, but she had surprised the veteran who,
at that time, was forming his first team. Early on, she’d made
every effort to show Eddie up with her extensive knowledge and
skills. After making special agent a little over a year ago,
however, she had mellowed a bit toward him, preferring to take the
newer members of the team to task.

To Eddie's left was Cal Warren, the team’s
probie. The twenty-five-year old had graduated from Georgia Tech in
2007 with a bachelor’s degree in computer science. He joined NCIS's
Internet Technologies department two years before, and was
recruited by Eddie after he assisted with a case in which members
of a terrorist cell kidnapped a naval captain’s ten-year-old
daughter. The terrorists had demanded that the officer assist them
with a plot to disable his own ship in the Persian Gulf. The
perpetrators used the Internet to throw off their pursuers, and Cal
had been instrumental in locating and rescuing the child. He had
even risked his own life by chasing down one of the kidnappers who
was armed with an AK-47 assault rifle. Seeing the young
man's commitment and passion, Eddie couldn't resist. He was a
handsome young man, looking more like an athlete than a computer
geek. He was dressed in Levis, a black tee shirt, and the
herringbone jacket that had become his favorite after seeing Eddie
wearing his. The mocha brown skin of his clean-shaven head was
covered with sweat. Even with the refrigeration unit in the
trailer, it had gotten stuffy in the poorly ventilated space. His
hazel eyes, which justly reflected the compassion in his heart,
were staring at the wall opposite him. Eddie thought maybe Cal was
daydreaming.

Below the spot where Cal was gazing was the
last member of the team that Eddie had brought with him. Geri
Hughes had been with NCIS for six years since graduating from
Florida State with duel degrees in general management and
criminology. She was twenty-eight years old and had meticulously
planned out her career in great detail by the time she joined
Eddie's team three years ago. She intended to become a team leader
by the time she was thirty, and she was well on her way. She was a
small woman with a pale complexion, but what she lacked in stature
she made up for with intelligence. She was almost always serious,
and rarely smiled. But she had an attention for detail beyond that
of a run-of-the-mill field agent. She was good at putting differing
items together and extrapolating scenarios that seemed fanciful at
best at first glance, but more often than not turned out to be
correct. She had proven to be a valuable asset to the team and a
good agent with solid performances all around. She wore a navy blue
pants suit, probably the same label Jo was wearing, with a bright
red blouse. Eddie believed the bright color choice hinted at
another side of her personality that none of them had broken into
yet. She was looking at him intently when he locked eyes with her
baby blues.

“It stinks in here,” she said, wrinkling her
nose.

Eddie mimicked her expression. “Well, we
ought to be there soon.”

The sudden exchange woke Cal from his
reverie. “They said it was only about ten minutes drive.”

Eddie looked at him stoically. “It’s ten
minutes from the base, not from where we were at the logistics
center.”

Working among young people made Eddie feel
old at times, and this was one of those times. Cal and Geri were
two of his youngest, least experienced agents. He had selected them
for this trip because he wanted to give them some exposure to a
not-in-my-comfort-zone experience. He wasn't sure why his team had
been sent on this assignment, but since he was informed that there
wouldn't be any heavy lifting involved, he thought it would make
for a good training opportunity.

He himself had been with NCIS for ten years
after serving with the Jacksonville Police Department Homicide unit
for twelve. Before that, he had enlisted in the Navy right out of
high school, where he spent eight years in the shore patrol. Being
in law enforcement for three decades had cost him two marriages and
countless relationships. He had been shot twice, both times since
joining NCIS. He had given blood, sweat, and tears to the services.
He wanted no more promotions, no more responsibilities and he was
done job-hopping. He wanted to live out the remainder of his career
as a field agent. Nothing more. At forty-eight, he was beginning to
show the signs of middle-age spread. No matter how much exercise he
did, it seemed to creep back on him. At five foot ten, he weighed a
few cookies over 200 pounds. His black hair was beginning to gray
at the temples and his sinewy face, scarred by a terrible bout of
acne during puberty, was starting to look more and more weathered
with age. In stark contrast to the rest of his face, which rarely
changed expression, he seemed to smile most of the time. His
gravelly voice completed the persona of a cop hardened by years of
frustrating, thankless work.