Kicking the Can (25 page)

“Did you see how Drummond walked backward until he was waist deep and then sat down in the water with his BC aired up? That’s what I want you to do. It’s too difficult to walk forward with your fins on,” Vogel said to the others.

Lowsley and Vogel hoisted the scuba tanks and secured the buckles of the backpacks for the others. They assisted Jiang, Gupta, and Baturina by walking them into the ocean and steadying their bodies while they put on fins. Lowsley and Vogel geared up and joined them. They stood huddled in the water.

“Vogel’s lead; I’ll bring up the rear.” Lowsley distributed nylon rope, cut to fifteen-foot lengths, and instructed
them to tie an end to their weight belt. He secured the other end to the person to their right. The last thing he did was bend the light sticks clipped to their BCs. The chemical mixed and emitted a fluorescent yellow glow.

“Remember, once submerged, kneel on the ocean floor,” Lowsley said. “We won’t proceed until everybody has given the OK signal. We have plenty of time, so don’t be in a hurry—normal breathing. You have plenty of air. As we go deeper, the water pressure will increase. Remember, Valsalva. Pinch your nose shut and attempt to push air through your nasal passages. It will release the pressure in your ears.”

The line played out as divers fell into a single line, roped in unison, following Vogel’s lead. Jiang adjusted Baturina’s buoyancy, pulling her along, the two locked side by side holding hands. Lowsley hung back watching the glow of lights move in the murk. He imagined the team space walking…or mountaineers summiting predawn. Vogel used her light to illuminate the floor surface, searching out the piping. Initiating the dive closer to the underwater suite was smart. It took twelve minutes to descend to ninety-three feet. The stilts of the structure came into view below a dark mass above them.

Vogel gave the hand signal to stop and then aimed the light at her hands and depressed her BC valve, forcing air out. The bubbles vibrated violently, racing to the surface. Gupta, Jiang, and Baturina repeated the procedure, becoming negatively buoyant. It made it easier to maneuver on the sandy floor. Vogel removed her fins. Lowsley kept his light aimed at her until she was underneath the opening to the suite. She inflated her BC and rose until
her body disappeared into the tube. Lowsley untied the ropes between them, and they held hands. He removed Baturina’s fins and walked her underneath the suite and then aired her BC, guiding her as she floated upward into the tube where Vogel would be waiting to assist each member. Jiang was next and then Gupta. Lowsley could see the group smiling, sitting on the bench, their masks pulled to their necks. Baturina and Jiang were hugging each other.

“Well done,” Lowsley called out as he broke the surface of the water in the mud room.

“Cling-on,” Gupta said, pointing to his nose and then at Lowsley. He responded by wiping the snot from his nose onto his fingers, swirling his hand in the water. He couldn’t help but laugh. Gupta exhibited humor during difficult situations. He’d miss him if they made it out alive.

99

C
live Donald reclined his favorite seat on board the Gulfstream G650. Hawaii was fabulous. He was reviewing the names of campaign managers short-listed when he heard the first explosion. The plane shuddered and violently yawed to the left. The pilot in the left seat indicated he had lost all propulsion in the left engine and was correcting for the imbalance by applying pressure to the rudder and increasing thrust to the right engine. Donald could hear the copilot calling out procedures from a checklist and speaking on the radio to the Seattle Air Route Traffic Control Center. They were still over the Pacific Ocean, approximately 1,440 miles from land.

The second explosion slammed Donald against the cabin wall like a rag doll. The reactive centrifugal force caused by the plane spinning out of control pinned Donald’s body against the fuselage. He had unwisely unbuckled his seat belt. The second blast made the jet nonresponsive to all rudder controls. The sensation of spinning amplified. Donald felt nauseous, trapped in an amusement ride from hell. The pilot had no other option than to cut power to the right engine. The spin lessoned, and Donald fell to the floor. Time slowed down. Donald could hear himself uttering the words he was thinking.
His breakfast—suspended in midair—was flung against the window by some invisible force—
splat
. The last three minutes of Donald’s life ticked off slowly. The plane, still in a flat spin, plummeted from an altitude of 45,000 feet, reaching a terminal velocity of 120 miles an hour, before rolling onto its back. Donald’s eyes closed. The last thing he remembered was Bennett’s fat face and the smell of eggs Benedict.

The coast guard reported seeing wreckage scattered over two square miles. The depth of the Pacific Ocean at the impact site hampered efforts to recover any wreckage and determine the cause of the explosions.

100

C
hris Drummond slid the owner’s manual next to the keyboard and opened the document. He pressed the button marked “clean power” on the squatty box with metal fins to dissipate the heat. He heard the rush of air as fan motors whirled before settling into a smooth hum. A string of blue LED lights indicated the components were enabled. He adjusted the height of the three plasma screens mounted to mechanical arms.

At the desktop, Drummond double clicked on the security application icon. He input
jEbc3-21
, the password Dain received from Swain. Configuring the video and security system was straightforward. It made sense to cluster the video cameras by geographic region and segregate them on the monitors. The center monitor had twenty two-inch square screens, each corresponding to one of the camera feeds. When he double clicked on the two-inch cubes, the small picture enlarged, occupying the entire monitor. The other monitors were slaved to the center screen, making it easy to use the mouse to drag the cubes from screen to screen. Drummond made notes on a sheet of paper to keep track of the camera feeds. Three of the cameras were mounted to servos, which could be operated by a joystick. These video cameras
could be moved left and right, up and down, and had a zoom function. With Lowsley’s assistance, they were able to cluster the camera images: Monitor A housed the camera feeds looking north at the back of property. Experimenting, Drummond figured out how to use the joystick. He moved it back and forth and was delighted the camera could be adjusted like an Internet webcam.

The interior cameras of Isle Airy were configured to Monitor B. With a dozen feeds, Drummond was able to expand the squares to three inches. Four static cameras, covering the main entrance and three exists to Isle Airy, were grouped on Monitor C. The lone camera, fixed on the aquatics structure located at the dock area, was moved to Monitor C. Lowsley adjusted the zoom with the track ball and brought Isle Airy into close view.

Satisfied the system was configured properly, Drummond asked Lowsley to sit next to him and be another set of eyes. Drummond put on the headset and adjusted the microphone boom—three-eighths of an inch from his mouth. He also activated two external speakers so the team could hear the dialog. According to the owner’s manual, the system was voice activated.

“Patriot, this is Four Seasons, do you copy?” Drummond could hear a low hiss but no Dain. Twenty-eight minutes elapsed, and still no word from Dain. Drummond turned around, and from the dower faces he knew the team was getting worried. Their plans may have already gone to shit.

Drummond jumped, startled, when Patriot broke the eerie silence.

“Four Seasons, this is Patriot.”

“Damn, your voice sounds good. We were beginning to worry.”

“I’m less than one klick from Isle Airy. I should be there in five minutes. Can you imagine the landscape bill? There’s a diamond pattern to how they planted. It became apparent as I counted steps. It’s much easier to move in diagonals.”

“Copy, Patriot. Let us know when you’re at the compound clearing.”

Drummond pointed at the joystick, and Lowsley started sweeping west to east, with the lens on full zoom. The motion sensor near the east pathway went red and started blinking. Dain emerged from darkness thirty seconds later.

“Patriot, we have you in view.” Dain was moving briskly, not sprinting—more controlled movements, floating above ground, his upper body bent at his waist and knees…no wasted effort. Lowsley kept him in view until he reached the edge of the frame and dropped off. He reappeared at the main entrance and entered Isle Airy. He made his way from floor to floor so they could track his movements. Lowsley used the joystick to adjust the camera mounted in the great room so that it was aimed at Dain’s face.

“Shoe polish?”

“Copy.”

Dain moved through the house, turning off lights. The last rooms he checked were conference rooms on the first floor. Dain exited from the main entrance. Lowsley used the joystick to center Dain’s image in the frame of the camera mounted on the aquatics structure.
Dain was crouched behind the water fountain. He stood and took a quick stroll through the beach area.

“I wish we had more time, but the bunker will have to do…Hope it’s deep enough. Remind me to keep my pelvis down so I don’t take a slug in my butt.”

“Copy.”

“I’m headed back to the rooftop…It could be a long night.”

Drummond looked at the clock on the monitor: 3:35 a.m. Baturina poured tea, and she and Jiang sat on the couch. Vogel sat next to Lowsley. Gupta was sitting cross-legged at the coffee table, his back to the sofa, his fingers a whirling dervish on Dain’s laptop.

“There’s not enough time for me to transcribe the entire report. I’ve been typing for three hours, and I’m less than halfway.”

“Do the best you can. Make sure they understand the concepts; key the supporting data last.”

Gupta stopped typing. The screen changed to simulation mode, and chess pieces were moving on a chess board graphic. As the pieces moved, letters appeared in a dialog box at the lower part of the screen. OG was sending their first message.

Sixty-four foot yacht traveling at 12 knots…expected arrival time 0413.

“Patriot, OG reports a yacht, seven miles out, approaching from the south. Twenty-five minutes.”

“Copy.”

Drummond’s respirations increased.

“Four Seasons, move the boom back an eighth inch; I can hear you breathing.”

“Copy.”

“I have a visual,” Patriot said.

Drummond excused himself and went to the bathroom. He relieved himself and splashed cool water on his face. Jiang passed Drummond in the hallway.

“I need to use restroom,” she said. “My stomach upset.”

Lowsley turned up the volume on the external speakers.

“I bet they’re pissed.” They could hear Dain laughing. “They’ve found the cable. What they’d give for a pair of bolt cutters. They’re maneuvering the boat. It appears to be heading to the north side of the island.”

“Copy. OG has the boat moving north, one quarter of a mile offshore.”

“I’ll need a rifle to carry out my plans. The best way for me to retrieve one is to bring the fight to them. I’m heading to the north shore to welcome them to the island. I’ll be out of communication range for twenty-five minutes. If I don’t make radio contact in thirty-five, tell OG to send in the calvary.”

Dain clicked his tongue audibly, his breathing unlabored. Dain had told Drummond the clicking was to keep him apprised of Dain’s status—clicking was good.

“OG reports a second yacht, twelve miles to the northwest, launching a Zodiac. An assault team of four soldiers, traveling thirty knots, will make landfall in twenty-one minutes. Patriot…Patriot,” Drummond shouted, panicked, but all he heard was the hiss of static. The clicking had stopped seven minutes prior.

“Shit. He’s out of range.”

101

C
hris Drummond licked his gums, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls. It was agonizing to sit in silence…anticipating the worst. Thirty-one minutes had expired when the first sensor turned red, then the second. Drummond muted the audio alarm. The annoying siren was exacerbating his already frayed nerves. In a matter of ninety seconds, all five heat-detecting sensors on the perimeter were tripped. Each of the flashing reds lights represented a trained assassin. The impending battle was real, not a video game. There was no question in Drummond’s mind Dain was an elite special ops soldier. But the odds of him keeping a dozen mercenaries in play for sixty minutes were long. Fear was replaced by a feeling of loss. Drummond’s fondness for Dain grew out of respect for his dedication to serving a country that turned its back on him because of politics. Drummond felt Vogel’s presence behind him, confirmed by the smell of her perfume. She squeezed his shoulder, acknowledging it had begun. The gray dawn was pushing out blackness, and images started to come into view. Drummond fiddled with the screen controls, sharpening the
resolution. Stringing the cable across the inlet delayed the boat thirty-five minutes—costly. Silhouettes were now visible. Motion sensors were flashing red, indicating movement in the compound. Dain appeared on Monitor A wearing a Kevlar vest and an assault rifle strapped around his left shoulder.

“Why wasn’t your mike on? I’ve been trying to warn you. OG reports a second assault team on the island.”

Drummond’s question sounded like a lecture. He was embarrassed by the remark. Dain nodded, raising four fingers, and then five fingers, signaling hostiles were advancing from two directions.

Dain turned his body to face the camera. He was crouched behind a four-foot concrete retaining wall extending into the courtyard, a windbreak to shelter the outside sitting area.

“I wear a large, but this will do.” He smiled as he made a hand motion, left to right across his neck, with his index finger extended—he’d cut his throat.

“I’m going to try to draw them into a cross fire.”

Dain moved from camera view. Fifty seconds later, they saw an explosion—a cloud of debris. Muzzle flashes from automatic weapons fire were visible east and west. Lowsley moved the joystick left to focus the camera west. Flashes from rifle fire continued in the compound behind Isle Airy with increasing intensity.