Pulling The Dragon's Tail (25 page)

“Remember me, ah, Mr. Ohura? I’m Thatcher Grady
from WorldWide NetNewsNow. I did a story on you.” Glancing over at
the display in his monitor glasses, he continued. “In September
2057. I highlighted your work, particularly on dolphin
communication.” Thatcher was smooth as silk.

The serious look on the Asian scientist melted
into a big smile. “Certainly, I remember you.”

“Do you mind if I take my friends around for a
bit of a tour?”

“Not at all. Did you want to go for a ride on a
robo-glider?”

“Yeah, that would be great! Boy, this line of
work obviously keeps you fit and trim.” He was laying it on thick,
but the charm worked.

“One of them’s returning right now. It will be
ready in about five minutes.”

Thatcher glanced at Es and Nate, “That all
right?”

Both glanced nervously down the hallway.

“That will be fine, Mr. Ohura. Thanks.”

Mr. Ohura returned his attention to his desk
computer. “Hold on, please.” He listened intently into his ear
mike. “There seems to be sort of disturbance several floors up. But
that won’t stop the glider from returning to port.”

Nate and Es continued glancing nervously about
them. The long corridor usually teemed with tourists, but was now
eerily empty. Directional signs pointed out how to find the shark
tank, the dolphin tank, the sea aquarium, as well as the times for
tours in the robo-gliders.

“So, Es. We get on one. What then?” whispered
Nate.

“Simple. We surface. I have a contact who will
pick us up.” She glanced at him. “Don’t you trust me yet?”

“I guess you’re growing on me. You’re incredibly
well-connected.”

Thatcher, overhearing the last part, said, “Yes,
my connections all over the world have served me well.”

“Blowing your own horn,” Campbell said in an
accusatory manner.

“You guys are nothing, if not grateful. I wasn’t
asking for praise, just stating a fact.”

They found some chairs in a nearby nook. Large
picture windows afforded them a view of the sea green ocean teeming
with fish. Nate sat down and realized just how tired he felt. He
had hardly any sleep since leaving Canada three days earlier.
Campbell offered him a stimulant medication; he gladly accepted
it.

One minute passed. Two minutes, then three
minutes dragged by. The stimulant had been immediately effective.
He found himself nervously tapping his fingers on his knee. He
arose and walked over to Es, who had chosen not to sit. Instead,
she was engaged in a now familiar ritual, slowly turning her head
one way, then the other, keeping an eye on Thatcher and everyone
else.

An urgency grew inside Nate and he approached
her. “Have you thought about the implications of the Alpha Group
being discovered? I mean, we can continue to deny it and stall, but
this Thatcher guy’s definitely onto us, at least me.”

“One option is to not let him reach the
surface.”

“You’re serious,” replied an incredulous
Nate.

“I am being practical and strategic. It
simplifies things.”

Nate drew back in horror. “You see it’s those
sentiments that make me wonder about you. That you could and would,
in all probability, kill so easily.”

She looked at him with her steel gray eyes. “I
assure you that killing another person is never, I repeat never, an
easy thing. It should be done only if all options have been tried.
But sometimes it is necessary. I was simply naming an option.”

“I can never accept that, Es. Killing is
always
wrong.”

“Rigid sentiments and moral stands get people
into trouble.”

“And you dare to talk about your moral stance
that killing is okay.”

“You misinterpret my words, Nate. I said it is
sometimes necessary, but it is never good.”

Thatcher approached them, hoping to plead his
case one more time.

“I’m all for turning you into shark bait,”
snarled Es.

“But if you can prove your usefulness to us...”
said Nate, trying to find some middle ground.

“Haven’t I done that already?” the reporter said
with a hint of frustration.

“Not until we’re safely on dry land, will you
have proved that. You have a lot of explaining to do,” said
Nate.

“I understand that, now more than ever. Now is
such an awkward time and place. I thought if I could talk to you
alone and—”

Es said with firmness, “You have no bargaining
power.”

Thatcher retreated a bit, remembering his still
sore arm. “Guess you’re right.”

Nate’s muscles tingled with energy. Perhaps it
was the stimulant. Perhaps it was the drama of the chase. Perhaps
it was the shock of finally being put in a place that he and his
fifteen colleagues had spent many years trying to avoid. For over
sixty years, the Alpha Group’s secret was solid. It had survived
World War III. It had survived Dr. Hilliard’s death.

Maybe all that had changed. What were his
options? He felt ashamed to admit that it would be simpler to kill
Thatcher.
Forgive me, Father Abraham!
There was something
vaguely familiar with Thatcher Grady, but he just couldn’t put his
finger on it. Realizing that perhaps he was being a bit tough on
him, Nate struck a conciliatory tone. “Yes, this is awkward, Mr.
Grady.” He picked his words carefully. “You have a bizarre
assumption that I’m part of some alphabet group and—”

“Mr. Kristopher, this is something I have wanted
to tell you all of my life. I think you knew my mother, McKinley
Harper.”

Nate stepped back, mind whirring. “Well, that’s
a name from another lifetime.” Then he cursed silently, realizing
his response may have undone his lie.

“And that makes you my father!” Thatcher blurted
out.

Nate’s jaw dropped. “But …that can’t be true.
She…”

Mr. Ohura interrupted them. “I’m calling
security! I’ve just received word they’re looking for people
matching your description. Please come this way, folks, so you can
sort out whatever it is with them.” He brought out a PPD
weapon.

“Please, don’t do that,” Es said with quiet
authority in her voice.

“Too late.” He pushed a button on his lapel.
“They’ll be here shortly.”

Alarms sounded. To Nate’s horror, the entrance
to the glider ports behind Mr. Ohura slammed shut. He glanced back
up the hallway from where they had come. The main door also closed
tightly.

Mr. Ohura said smugly, “No one’s going anywhere,
so sit tight.”

Nate glanced at his enforcer. She was already in
motion, quickly kicking the PPD out of the scientist’s hand. She
grabbed his arms, pinning them behind his back. “We must leave here
despite your protestations. How do I open this door to the glider
ports?”

“They’re shut down and I can’t reopen them.”

“Es, he has another weapon in his left pants
pocket.”

“Thanks, Dugan.” She shoved him against the wall
and pulled the small gun out. “Campbell, guard Mr. Ohura,” and she
handed the gun to her. “Nate, help me out. Let’s see if we can
budge open this door.”

For a minute they attempted to pull apart the
doorway which met in the middle of the hall.

“Dugan,” yelled Nate, “can you find an override
switch and access it?”

“I have been trying to do so. However, security
protocols are consistently denying my access.”

“Dugan, are there any other subs down here that
we can get to?”

“No.”

Their options were slowly dwindling. Nate was
beginning to feel desperate. A security officer paged Mr.
Ohura.

“You had better tell him that everything is
under control, or you are a dead man!” Es threatened.

The scientist reluctantly did so.

Campbell brightened. “What about scuba gear?
There must be some around!”

“Dugan?”

“Yes, one level up. I believe that a side door
can be utilized.”

“Mr. Ohura, take us there! Now!”

With Es’s weapon against his back, they hurried
back up the hallway, soon exiting to the right. Up a flight of
stairs momentarily brought them into a back area accessible to only
scientists and researchers. They rushed past an open door. A tiger
shark prowled the edges of a massive aquarium.

Ohura led them to the end of the hallway. It
turned left. Another large tank sat on their right. Dolphins
approached them with their effervescent friendliness.

The scientist stopped. “In there.” He pointed to
a room across from the dolphin tank.

They rushed in, startling three men donning
diving equipment. Es pulled out another weapon, and to Nate’s
horror, fired at each of them. Lastly, she fired it at Mr. Ohura.
With a nonchalant attitude that both startled and amazed him, Es
commented, “They are fine. They will be asleep for about an
hour.”

Campbell and Es were familiar with diving
equipment. They set to work, instructing Nate and Thatcher in how
to use it. Meanwhile, Dugan was spending time learning about the
escape hatches at this bottom level.

Suddenly high-pitched wails and whistle-like
sounds emanated from the CCR. He leaped into the hallway and stood
in front of the dolphin tank. A dolphin rushed over next to Dugan,
chattering away and tapping excitedly on the glass.

“What the heck is your CCR doing?” asked a
flabbergasted Thatcher.

“Dugan,” Nate said with a hint of exasperation,
“what are you doing?”

“Skip, Dolphin number three says she will help
us through the hatch.”

“You’re speaking to them?”

“Their language is fascinating. Building on the
formulations of noted scientist and dolphin researcher, Adonnis
Peterson, I have—”

“We don’t have time for this, Dugan” Nate
glanced at the others, mouths agape at what Dugan was apparently
doing. “I know what you’re thinking. He couldn’t possibly learn a
language, any language, especially this language, that quickly. But
apparently he’s done so.”

Campbell was dubious. “Are we really going to
believe your chatty CCR that the dolphins can assist?”

“Es,” said Dugan urgently, interrupting his
conversation with the dolphins, “security personnel have located
us.”

“I will handle this,” said Es, who jumped up and
ran out the door. The three security officers never saw her coming.
She shot them with another temporary anesthetic. They swooned
against the wall of the corridor and slid meekly to the ground.

“They are alive?” questioned Nate when Es
returned.

“Of course,” she assured him. “There was no need
to kill them.”

Part of Nate was amazed by Es’s efficiency; the
other part of him was still petrified by that same efficiency. He
glanced over at Thatcher Grady.
Am I a father? Could it be?
McKinley had always denied being pregnant.

“Skip!” Dugan spoke urgently. “Dolphin number
three says we only have a five minute window. I am accessing a code
that will allow their tank to open into the ocean. They will then
come around to our side and assist us to the surface. They are
specially trained to fend off shark attacks.”

While he still had his doubts about Es, Nate’s
trust in his CCR was utter and complete. Nate and the others
followed Dugan to the portal room that would depressurize them for
their ocean escape.

Present Location: Coordinates: 2W, 46N

Arrived at 2030 hours local time at CHOFA
retreat center near Stonehenge. Skip is looking forward to respite.
Thatcher Grady is accompanying us under duress. Es forced him to
swallow a tracking device. His Net access has also been taken
off-line. Although his assistance was invaluable in allowing us to
escape Poseidon City, neither Skip nor Es trust Thatcher or his
story.

End-Date Update:

The latest UN data on mean world temperature and
the Atlantic basin trough has been downloaded. There is a
twenty-eight percent decrease in trough flow noted at tracking
station 142AF. I will tell Skip tomorrow. Last official prediction:
2076 +/- three years. Skip’s latest calculation: 2063+/- three
years.

(PAUSE) Skip is unusually upset at the pace of
my latest search regarding the GDSP parameters. Intellectually, he
is aware of the ambiguities involved with obtaining valid
computerized predictions of human behavior, such as how people will
react if knowledge of the Alpha Group is revealed—Option 16Z. Yet
he is upset that I have not fully synthesized all the computer
models about implementing Option 16Z and how it will affect the
End-Date. Utilizing sub-program of CLUES to assess Skip’s judgment.
Does he really believe using someone like Thatcher Grady to inform
the world of the Alpha Group could also be part of Option 16Z?
CLUES diagnosis is that Skip is angry and impatient with me. But I
am doing my best. This is difficult to comprehend. I will continue
to evaluate Option 16Z. Currently contacting my friends, TOPIC and
MAGNUM, for help.

Listening to dolphin speech is interesting.
Their communication is vastly different from humans and artificial
intelligence. Searching databases, seeking to download extended
versions of Delphinidae communication.

Report on the humans:

Thatcher Grady is an angry, depressed human
male. Currently accessing public databases, searching for
information regarding Grady. Is it possible Skip could be the
father of Mr. Grady? Will attempt to ascertain intersecting
geographical locations for Skip and McKinley Harper in and around
January and February of 2029.

Skip is making thirty-two percent fewer
disparaging remarks toward Es.

Gideon’s Army is still sending death threats. I
am working with a supercomputer at Interpol to intercept. Es
informs me that the drone at Poseidon City was not from Gideon’s
Army. Es states that our strategy of short trips to obscure
locations has greatly minimized the prying eyes of robocameras and
robodrones which are used by criminal syndicates and spy
agencies.