Color Blind (Team Red) (13 page)

“Holy Shit!” I spluttered. Eloquence went right out the window as I observed the amount of equipment crammed into the room. To the front of me and stretching as far to the right as possible, over-size desks, covered with keyboards and a minimum of six computer flat screens at each of the four workstations, took up the forty feet of north wall. A fifth station, at the northeast corner of the room, had twelve flat screens mounted on the walls like bathroom tiles. I could barely make out different views of the property which told me these were part of the security system or mapping program. To my left, in the northwest corner walls of cinderblock had been built to create a room, with what looked like a metal fire door. “What’s in here?” I asked.

David’s arm reached around me, brushing my shoulder, as he tapped out the code on a keypad built into the wall. Since Red was sitting to my left, I didn’t have a clear view of the keypad, but I knew at some point I’d have access to everything down here in case of emergency. There was a sound of heavy bolts sliding, and David swung the door outward so I could see stacks and stacks of computer towers laid out three-high on wire racks. The room was approximately eight-by-ten, and a blast of cold air let me know that the room was kept air conditioned.

“These are all the servers and data storage units. Most of the computers are cabled into on our private basement LAN, that’s a local area network, so our computers can communicate with each other. Only three of the laptops as well as the computers upstairs can be connected to the wi-fi or internet so we can do research and email. Those laptops used for internet, can’t access the LAN system, and none of the classified work is stored on them.”

Running along the east wall, were two long work benches, maybe eight feet each, covered in drones and other electronic toys, in various states of assembly. Boxes and crates were stored neatly on shelves under the work area. In the open area, between the computers and workbenches and the staircase, was a twelve-seat conference table like the one we had upstairs in the dining room. One end of the table was covered with file folders, maps, and computer print-outs

David wandered over to a monitor that caught his eye, and Red roamed from my side towards the southern wall; I followed him and was overwhelmed to see their fitness area, complete with dumbbells and a weight bench, some type of weight machine with pulleys and stacked weights, a stationary bike, and a treadmill. There was some serious muscle building and toning going on down here. I eyed the stationary bike, consideringly. I missed bike riding. I’ll have to pop down to use this one, or have a second one put in upstairs.

Mirrors along the south wall gifted me with the first view of my beautiful German shepherd. He was gorgeous, with tall shapely ears and a nicely shaped snout. He was almost solid black with tan socks, typical of bi-color shepherds. “Red, you are a very handsome boy,” I praised. I noticed in the reflection that David was still checking something at the large workstation computer screens. As if feeling my attention, he finished up and sauntered to me with that sexy stride Janey told me about. Oh God! He was built to walk across a room towards a woman. The lazy roll of his hips in low-cut jeans held my attention until Red glanced away to show me the final, southwest corner. A large area had been partitioned off, probably a storage, or bathroom with a shower. Red approached the doorway to peek in for me, and was surprised to see it set up like a gym shower with an open tiled area and three showerheads spaced evenly across one side. There was a urinal, and an enclosed toilet (nice to see there was some modesty remaining), and a double sink with a stack of white towels. There was even a stacked washer and dryer set in one corner of the room. I was guessing, for hand and bath towels.

“This is amazing, David,” I could hear the awe in my voice, but I think it was praise well-deserved. I was still standing somewhere in the fitness area, and David wrapped his arms around me, resting his cheek against my temple. “I can’t believe you’ve done this much in less than a month.”

Red’s interest moved away from the shower room (to call it a bathroom was simply too much of an understatement), and he was glancing towards the conference table when I got my first view of Gil. Wow! While not a classically handsome man like Bas or David, he had a rugged attractiveness that was sure to turn more than a few female heads. Seeing him thru Red’s vision, I couldn’t depend on colors, but Gil’s thick, longish hair was a medium darkness, so I was guessing light brown. The eyes shown like bright sapphires, so I was guessing they were a shade of blue that was enhanced by Red’s color blindness. His face was square with a stubborn jaw, and jutting chin. I grinned, it looks like our detective was a scrapper, because his nose was off-center, as if he’d had it broken in a fight, but never got it set afterwards. He had a nicely shaped mouth, with lips thinner than I prefer, but they worked with his face. Gil appeared to be about my height, five-ten, and he had a lean runner’s body. I have never asked Gil his age, but I would estimate him to be somewhere in his early forties. I was guessing that the good detective was one of those men that looked better out of his clothes, allowing better appreciation of his subtle musculature. He worked out regularly with my guys, so I was certain he had hidden assets. It seems that Ash, the lab tech, was a lucky woman.

“Wow,” I said aloud, to David. “Between Gil, Bas, and you, if I stuck a hidden camera in your guys’ shower room, I could make a fortune with an internet peep show. It’s like a smorgasbord of manly delights.”

I could see a corner of Gil’s lip quirk up in a grin, and Bas must have heard me too, because he glanced up from his perusal of the dumbbell rack and flashed me a smile. Amusement rumbled through David’s chest. He kissed my cheek. “There will be no showing, or peeping, of manly assets,” he growled playfully.

I leaned back into his arms, laughter coloring my voice, “I live at Man Candy Central. Women would be breaking down the doors if they knew I was hoarding such sexiness under one roof.”

“It’s a good thing I know you’re not easily won over by a nice body and a pretty face, or I’d be jealous of you admiring other men,” he teased.

I turned my face toward my sex-god lover to emphasize my next statement, “You DO realize the irony of you saying that, right, Pretty Boy?” Red chose that moment to look up towards David and me, so I could really appreciate his model perfect face and beautiful body. Damn, he was gorgeous. And Mine.

“Smart ass,” David said in my ear.

“Are you done, Teresa?”
Red asked, still holding the visual for me.

“Hold on just a minute more if you can Red. David, I’m wondering where the escape door is that goes to the tunnel, and how does it work?”

I was surprised when Red turned his head towards Bas, who was still standing in the fitness area. I would have thought the tunnel was through the computer room. Bastian depressed a side of the third mirror panel, and it popped out showing a hidden door, with a recessed keypad.

“We will walk you through the tunnel and keypads later,” David said. “Right now, let’s get working on what’s needed for the mission.”

Bas added, “Before we head upstairs, I’ll get you coded for all the locks. We can get your fingerprints for the doors that require them.”

Red gave me one more sweeping visual of the basement before the lights snapped off and I was once again in the dark. I had to remind myself not to be depressed or to feel cheated. It was a precious gift that I received through Red, and I needed to stay positive. I was so fortunate to have the mental communication and get flashes of sight through my dog. I resolved to count the blessings and move forward. Mustn’t be greedy.

Going over the various reports and files that Colonel Spencer provided was both tedious and enlightening. Tedious, because there was a lot of repetition in the paperwork, that became very apparent when it was all gathered and viewed collectively. They needed a good editor that could consolidate all this stuff into a three page report. Enlightening, because I had no idea that the military had its hand in so many cookie jars. Now, granted, they were following a money trail, trying to identify a link in some type of arms import business, but Wow! There were some details that seemed awfully stalkerish to my untrained mind. I’m sure specifics above my level of need-to-know, Bas and David were skipping over. I trusted their judgment and their desire to keep me safe, I was sure I would be told what I needed to get the job done.

“I know you two are censoring a lot of these reports, but please tell me they make more sense when you guys are reading the whole thing. Some of the observations you are telling me about are just plain silly when read as a single line of text,” I sighed, frustrated with the last remark concerning ‘the target was last seen wearing a red blazer.’ Really?

Bas was the one that answered, “Sometimes seemingly insignificant observations are recorded because they could be a clue that may later be significant. For example, if the observers see he is only wearing the red jacket to lunch meetings when he is alone, it may be a signal to someone he’s meeting a contact. For example, Javier Morales has worn the red coat three times in the past two weeks. On each occasion he has spoken to a random person that approached him. One for a light for her cigarette, one in the bar asking his opinion on local hotspots, and a third person in the men’s room.”

“Really, someone approached him in the men’s room?”

I could hear the smile in Bastian’s voice, “No, this was just an example. Someone thought the red jacket was strange enough that they made a note of it. Some of these observers just get a gut feeling, or they intuitively sense something is out of character, so they record it. It may be that there is nothing significant about a red jacket, then again, they may find out something by following anyone that talked to him on days he wore it. Intelligence can be a crap shoot sometimes.”

“Well, all these observations has been pretty riveting so far,” my tone of voice deliberately emphasized the sarcasm, “but what are we supposed to do at the Black and White Ball? What can Red and I accomplish, that sticking a listening device in a dinner table’s floral centerpiece can’t do?”

David chuckled, “Oh, I’m pretty sure there will be bugs a-plenty all over the place. But this ball, in particular, has a military Who’s Who guest list, so my guess is that for every listening device, there will be two people with detectors or dampeners to prevent their usage. That’s the beauty of using Red, there is nothing to detect. He can go up to a perfect stranger and beg for a head scratch, and most people will do it. If Red wanders into an area where there is a private conversation, people with think nothing of it; they would be inclined to continue speaking freely, assuming their anti-spyware is effectively blocking any bugs in their immediate area. Since you are blind and Red is your service dog, once people are comfortable that he is there for a purpose, they will discount his presence.”

“Colonel Spencer has also speculated that most people will take private conversations out to the open balcony area where they can feel assured of privacy. It’s a perfect place for Red to lay, out of the way, while you are dancing or circulating with David or me,” Bas added.

“If it can be arranged, we may want to see if we can get a table close to the balcony area. Red and I need to be within thirty feet of each other if we are going to mind speak,” I reminded.

“Good idea,” David agreed. “We have the seating plans and the ball room layout. Bas and I will go over everything and determine our best position. We may be able to get them to add a special dog area nearby for you to sit that has a water dish for Red. It would be an excuse for you to be near the balcony, but far enough away to not raise any red flags. I’ll work something out.”

Bastian concurred, “Having Red accessible to the balcony area gives us options. With luck and a little eavesdropping if we can hopefully identify who Captain Morales is working with to move guns, and we can help put a stop to the trade.”

“How have they gotten to this level of confidence that Captain Morales is involved?” I wondered aloud.

“It was a fluke, really. A private…” there was a pause and I could hear Bas flipping through paperwork, “Private Jean Walker, accidentally opened an outgoing crate of guns. She was back after two days off and assumed her counterpart had been lazy and not unpacked the expected crate of gear. She opened it up and found guns instead of the anticipated helmets. She’s a bright woman; she immediately resealed the crate and checked the labels to make sure it was the incoming crate from the previous day. While she was checking manifests, Captain Morales comes in, tells her that they were the wrong helmets and he had already made arrangements for them to be forwarded to the correct recipient.”

“Wow, that was lucky,” I said. It was such a strange set of circumstances that led to the private resealing the crate. She could just as easily have left it unsealed while she went through the manifests.

Bas continued the narrative, “She reported the incident to her superior who placed a GPS device on the box. The private was drinking buddies with a few other soldiers who mentioned they were trying to audit some missing guns which had been confiscated in border patrol raids. While they shouldn’t have been talking about the guns over beers at the bar, in this case, Private Walker remembered the fact that guns were missing, and acted accordingly. It was a huge break in the case.”

“Yeah,” David interjected, “until this point, Captain Morales had not even been on the gun running radar. Investigators were following some false leads and it could have been months, even years before they had evidence, if not for her quick thinking.”

“How long ago was this?” I asked.

I could hear Bas turning pages again. “It looks like five weeks ago. In that time, the captain has moved another twenty-seven guns. We now know how he’s doing it, and we have some of the middle men under observation, but we are not sure of the other major players involved. The guns have been tracked back into Mexico, and we suspect Morales’ partner, or partners, are working out of a base in the San Diego area. Morales made a big point of trying to get himself invited to the ball; when he couldn’t maneuver an invite on his own, he fortunately got himself appointed as the courtesy escort for General Brigham’s wife. The general is unable to attend the ball, at Colonel Spencer’s request, but his wife is one of the women in charge of setting it up each year, so she needs to be there. Morales is now attending as her escort for the evening, or he will be until the general shows up shortly after the event starts, having been freed up from his other duties.”

“Very sneaky,” I smiled appreciatively. “So now Morales will be at the ball with no official duties to perform. How convenient.”

“We are pretty sure he plans to meet up with his partners during the event. Colonel Spencer could simply tail anyone that Morales spends time with, but if Red has an opportunity to gather intel that helps us stop the gun running sooner, then it’s a big win,” David concluded.

“Oh, and tell him about my idea,”
Red pleaded, placing his head in my lap.

“I almost forgot, Red wanted me to suggest to you that Morales would be easier for him to track if you could scent mark him somehow. If someone could spill what looks like water, but contains a scent only a dog would pick up on, Red could keep a better fix on the guy’s location. Someone could even discretely spritz a non-detectable scent marker on him. Red says pants, socks, or shoes would work best.”

David was thoughtful for a moment while he considered the idea. “That may be an easy thing for us to do. We just have to figure out what we can use that would be distinctive enough to single him out in a sea of black tuxedo slacks. It would be simple if we could get someone to spray the hem of his pants while they are hanging in his room. I’ll send an email to the colonel about that. Great idea, Red.” There was rapid tapping against his laptop keyboard, as David created and sent off an email request to the colonel, or in this instance, probably Lt. Mercer.

So what am I supposed to do?
I relayed my dog’s question, and took an opportunity to give him an ear rub.

“Just do what you’re doing right now, Red. Be friendly.” Bas said. “We will point Captain Morales out at the party. Hopefully, someone will also scent mark him for you. Here’s his picture, if you don’t mind flashing it to Teresa real quick?”

Darkness turned to bright, as Red shared his sight with me and we focused on a photo of an attractive young officer in a dress uniform. He had the stereotypical Hispanic coloring and features one would expect from his name. He looked so fresh and innocent.

“Thanks Red,” I said, adding an extra scratch on the back of his head. The light switch flipped and it was pitch black in my mind once again. Shit! I needed to keep myself from this damn resentment I was feeling every time Red released my mind and returned me to darkness. I pushed the moment of discontent from my mind, determined to stay positive about my circumstances. Count your blessings, I told myself.

Speaking of blessings. “Hey Beautiful, what’s wrong?” David asked.

I debated saying anything, but honesty compelled me to be frank. “It’s really stupid, but I’m finding myself getting depressed when Red pulls away from my mind and I’m back in the dark again. I was completely fine with the blindness, and now, suddenly, I’m feeling the loss of my sight all over again.”

“Ah crap, babe.” David’s voice was full of empathy as he leaned over to envelop me in his arms. My vision and the brightness of the room, via Red, snapped on suddenly, as Red showed me curled in David’s embrace. There was a pained look on Bas’ face and his hand was stretched out in reassurance. He looked in Red’s direction suddenly, realizing, then I watched his lips tighten as he quickly pulled back his arm, a guilty look crossing his face. I sighed mentally. It appeared Bastian still harbored some residual feelings for me. I had hoped he was moving on, since I knew from Janey that he had started dating again.

“Hey, I’ll be fine. I’m not even sure where these feelings are coming from, but I’ll find a balance,” I muttered into my lover’s neck.

David kissed the crown of my head. In that moment, I had an epiphany; David realized Bas’ lingering feelings too. He was always careful to show care and warmth, rather than passion when we were in front of the other man. I think, since I usually didn’t see his face, it was easy to ignore the fact that Bas was a suitor only a month or so ago. My feelings had never been as intense as Bastian’s, and I had never seen his face filled with the longing I saw a moment ago. What a mess.

Bastian looked away from us. I could see the tension in him as he mentally worked to regain his composure. Behind David’s back, I signed to Red to cut the visual bond.