The Victor Project (10 page)

     Pages 7-34 listed the module assignments for the groups to be evacuated.  Given the number of modules, C-Orbit Station had to be the size of a fifty-story building covering an entire square block.  To build something like that in space would have taken ten years.  How could the government have kept an endeavor like that a secret for that long a time? 

      Frank closed VP-2 and touched the open icon for the third file.  Immediately a box presented itself asking for a password.  Attempting to guess a government-origin password would be like guessing how many fibers were in the carpet on the floor.  In the past he had seen passwords that were nothing more than a combination of letters and numbers.  Why hadn’t the other two files been password protected?  The information in them seemed to be of the highest classification.  Had the deliverer of the disk somehow successfully turned off the protection for the first two files and forgot the third or was this as far as the deliverer wanted him to get?

      Without being able to open the third file, there were still a lot of questions unanswered.  It was obvious that something big was going to happen with the next few days.  And the more Frank thought about what he read, the more he believed that the greater percentage of mankind was not going to survive it.

     At that moment, it struck him that an evacuation like this would be just the thing to make his old buddies Sherman and Ben a little nervous.  That would also explain the new set of directives.  The whole mess had the stench of their covert little fingers.  And if it was the evacuation that was making them edgy, then it was logical to assume that Sherman and Ben had made the list of key personnel. 

     Why else would have someone given him this disk if the evacuation weren’t for real?  Maybe what the informant couldn’t research was the catastrophe that was provoking it.  Maybe that was to be his part in this ordeal.  But so far the disk had did nothing more than place him in the same position as the giver, which was very scared and very lost.  He needed time to think and he needed more than the few remaining days that were between him and the beginning of Phase I.  At this moment, he was too stunned to think of anything. 

     Any good spy would make a copy of the disk, Frank thought to himself, just in case the one he was looking at suddenly disappeared.  If he could think of a good enough hiding place, he would leave the original in his office.  Frank inserted a blank disk and invoked the copy application.  While the data copied, he spun his chair around and let his eyes search the dark room for a suitable hiding place.  On the top shelf of the cabinet behind him lay three identical binders that contained documentation from a previous project by the name of San342.  He remembered having stuck a couple of the disks in the pockets of the binders, disks that held various research data supporting the project.  One more disk labeled Miscellaneous Research would blend right in.

     Frank was concentrating so heavily on hiding the disk in the binder
, that he failed to hear the sound of footsteps coming up the hallway.  The knock on his door almost sent him into cardiac arrest.  Quickly he spun around and returned to his chair.

     “Security.”

     “Come in,” Frank answered as he tucked his hand with the disk under the table.

     “Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Belker.  I saw some light coming from the office and I just had to make sure it wasn’t someone unauthorized.”

     “That’s all right Sam.”

     “Why are you working in the dark?”

     “My eyes were getting tired and it made the screen easier to see,” he thought quickly.

     “Hell, that’ll make it worse.”

     “Well, I was just wrapping up anyway,” Frank said.

     “Go home.  See your family.”

     “Good idea.”

     “Want me to turn on the light?”

     “Yes, please,” Frank answered.

     As Sam closed the door to the office, Frank made a mental note that turning off the office light was obviously fruitless.  Concealing the disk below the desk also seemed pretty ridiculous.  After all it was just a disk to anyone else.  Frank hoped his mannerisms didn’t give the impression of being nervous or paranoid, even though he felt overwhelmed by the emotions at the moment. 

     Regaining his composure, he spun back around and grabbed the third binder from the shelf.  In it were three other diskettes and Frank tucked his between disk one and two.  With equal efficiently he touched the shut-down button on the screen and slipped the new copy of the disk in his coat pocket.  Somewhere in his house he would find a good hiding place for it.

     As William pulled into his driveway he could see the enormous head of his dog Blanch peaking through the curtains of one of the porch windows.  Her two paws were placed firmly on the window ledge for support and her nose pressed against the window.  It seemed as though every time he returned home, she was at the window waiting.  It wasn’t long past her first birthday that she figured out that the curtains blocking her view to the outside world were an easy obstacle to overcome.  After the second repair job on the curtain rod and the fabric, William made the decision to simply secure them back to leave a safe and full view for Blanch.

     Before he could open the front door, Blanch was barking loudly and scratching on the door, no doubt looking forward to her afternoon walk.  After a quick stop to the bathroom for his own relief, William attached the leash to Blanch’s collar and trailed her out the front door.  At the street she made a right turn down the sidewalk as if she had mapped out the adventure for the afternoon. 

     As William followed he noticed a man closing the front door to his neighbor’s house with a dog and leash attached the same as him.  William’s eyes followed the man as his tiny dog led him through the front yard and to the edge of the street.  From his distance the face didn’t look familiar.  The couple that lived in the house didn’t own a dog, so the man couldn’t have been a pet-sitter.  Out of curiosity the two dogs drew toward one another dragging the two men to within six feet.

     “Hi, I’m Matt Dalton, your new neighbor,” he greeted with a big smile and an extended hand.

     “I’m William,” he replied with a firm shake.

     “What’s your dog’s name?” asked Matt.

     “Blanch.  Where did Mr. and Mrs. Gable move to?” asked William.

     “I believe they moved to Zone 6 for a little warmer weather.  Did you know they will move you to another zone if you have a special need?” he said.

     “I remember hearing something about that.  Especially for retirees,” said William.  “Did they retire?”

     “Yes, I’m pretty sure that is what they said.  Do you know what he did for a living?” asked Matt.

     “The two of them ran that small sandwich shop on
Easler Street.  They had owned it for years,” said William.

     “I guess they got tired of putting up with society.”

     “Possibly,” said William as he tightened the leash to hold Blanch back from tackling the man’s dog.  “I’d better let her get some exercise.  If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

     “It was nice to meet you,” said Mat, extending his hand once again.

     “Likewise,” replied William.

     Once William convinced Blanch to continue on and forgo the idea of frolicking with her new animal neighbor, she regained her pace and her search for new adventures.  Matt and his dog moved down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.  After about forty yards, William glanced over his shoulder toward the Gable’s old home.  Matt had only made it about five feet and now seemed to be looking directly at him.  William gave a casual wave with his hand and Mat returned the gesture. 

     William searched his memory for some hint over the past few months that he had overlooked about the Gables moving, much less retiring.  The most perplexing question was not that they had moved, but when.  He had been at home and around the neighborhood the entire week and had even spoken to Mr. Gable only four days ago.  In all the years he had known the old man, he had never once mentioned the word retirement.  He had made comments of shooting a few of the customers or burning the deli to the ground, but never retiring. 

     William could even recall only a few weeks ago Mr. Gable’s excitement concerning the fact that a new office building was being completed only two blocks away from his deli and business was going to become pretty hectic.  Maybe he thought it would be too hectic for the two of them to run the place.  Either way, his two closest neighbors had never mentioned moving or had even stopped by to say goodbye.  Something didn’t seem right.

     While William had been in deep thought about the disappearance of the Gables, Blanch had been working her way into a row of hedges and consequently entangling the leash in the thick branches.  William bent closer to the bushes to see what it was that the animal was so fascinated about, but the leaves didn’t allow much of an angle.  Deciding that whatever it was couldn’t be good, he proceeded to untangle the leash and once again revive his animal’s chaotic detour. 

     As Blanch once again reacquired the sidewalk as a pursuit path, William thought back to the first encounter with his new neighbor.  Matt seemed likable enough.  His confidence and appearance led him to believe that the man was educated and most likely held a white collar job.  The handshake demonstrated that he was well mannered.  So far so good.

      He would miss the smell of a fresh baked pie and home cooked meals that used to find its way across his yard every once in a while, along with the leftovers from the deli that the old man would bring by on occasion.  Maybe later, when the time was right, he would ask Matt for the Gables’ forwarding address.  If nothing else he would stop in at the deli next week and hopefully obtain the address from the new owner.

     William pulled back on Blanch’s leash to maneuver slowly passed the Gables house on the return trip.  So far Matt hadn’t changed a thing on the place.  The two old chairs that the couple used to sit on
during the evening, were still poised on the left corner of the porch.  The matching pair of bright yellow birdhouses still balanced on their posts as the owner had originally placed them five years prior.  The drapes displayed in the porch windows even looked the same.  If it weren’t for the name on the mailbox, there wouldn’t be a person in the neighborhood that would believe that they had left.  Even though everything appeared to be normal, normal wasn’t sitting right with William.

     Blanch headed straight for the kitchen and toward her water bowl as soon as the leash was detached from her collar.  William headed towards the sink for the same refreshment. 

     “Napoleon, turn on the screen.”

     From the kitchen William glanced at the video screen as it powered up.  But just before the image appeared, the screen gave a strange blink.  It was only a quick flash of light, but it simultaneously muted the sound.  He had sat in front of the unit hundreds of times before as it warmed up and never had the screen flashed as it just had.

     “Napoleon, run a check on the system.”

     William thumbed through the refrigerator as the computer ran its pre-initializing system check.  Hopefully the computer would find as many errors in the system as there were edible items in the fridge, which happened to be zero.  Napoleon barked out the results before William could shut the icebox door.  The volume was somewhat louder than he needed at this hour.

     “System-check complete.  All systems receive status of “A”,” Napoleon replied.

     “Napoleon, volume down two points.”

     “Volume down two points,” Napoleon demonstrated with its reply.

     He had planned on calling Val up and meeting her tonight anyway.  Eating could just be an extra curricular activity for the event.  During the day, one of Grump’s cronies had picked up a transmission from one of three CIA signals they monitored on a consistent basis.  It clearly stated that they were beefing up their task force to once and for all terminate the members of his elite group.  No doubt they would terminate him with a bullet and leave his body to rot far outside one of the zones. 

     The transmission only confirmed the other bits of data that they had been gathering over the past few weeks.  Data that pointed to some huge event about to occur.  His sources had always been reliable in the past and there was no reason to begin to doubt them now.  Whatever it was, the NSA, FBI and the CIA were laying all the chips down to find his group as quickly as possible, so whatever caper the government had planned, it was going to begin soon. 

     What worried him most was that his organization had grown over the past five years and was somewhere around four-hundred in his zone alone.  The total amongst all the other zones was somewhere in the one-thousand range.  One thousand members was a little more exposure than he would have wanted at this point, nine-hundred and ninety-nine other loyal souls that had to stay sharp and on alert at all times.  It would only take one to jeopardize all he and they had worked for.  It was now a formidable number that could lose their lives for his cause, their cause. 

     Worst of all, this cause worth dying for was one that most people didn’t know was obtainable.  A cause that many had been brainwashed into believing ridiculous.  Along with that myth was that fact that most had been brainwashed that his culture was dangerous and rouge.  He tried to be honest with himself and realize that a few would probably die before it was all over.  Everyone said freedom had a high price.  It would be much sweeter if he could get some sort of discount.

     William took the usual precautions of circling the block in his car and
retracing his footsteps on his way to the public phone.  This was no time to be careless.  Val picked up on the third ring.

     “Where have you been?” she asked

     “I’ve worked the entire day, why do you ask?”

     “I thought we were scheduled to meet at noon?”

     “We do not discuss such topics over the phone,” he replied.  “Meet me at MP4 as soon as you can.”

     “Give me about twenty minutes,” she replied.

     MP4 was “meeting place four”, which for this month was an Italian restaurant on Fourth Street.  Over the years, he had compiled a list of twenty-eight rendezvous points for his group.  Each month the codes for the meeting places changed based on an algorithm that the necessary participants were required to memorize yet forbade to record on paper.  The places he had selected for the rendezvous ranged from bowling alleys to baseball games to theaters and so forth.  The list of the twenty-eight places was now over four years old and each location had been used many times, too many times.  It was time to create a new one.  On this next list, he would add more eating establishments. 

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     On the way to the restaurant, Frank reviewed his plan to casually ask Jonathan about his knowledge of the Victor Project.  Not fully knowing the purpose of the project made him a little uncomfortable about mentioning the files, even to Jon.  The fact that the disk was introduced to him anonymously also gave him an uneasy feeling that it contained data that someone would kill for, someone like Sherman Crane or Ben Brothers.  Jon was a friend that could be trusted, there was no doubt about that, but at the same time Frank could be getting him mixed up in something dangerous.  Even a casual inquiry by Jon to the wrong person could end up getting them both killed.  He had decided that he would drop an innocent story to Jon that he had noticed the file on Sherman’s desk, nothing more, nothing less.  If Jon didn’t recognize the name, then he would move on.

     Jonathan was already seated at one of the tables when Frank walked through the front door.  Judging by the half-empty beer bottle, Jon had beaten him to the restaurant by more than just a few minutes.  Either that or his day had been pretty rotten and he had proceeded to indulge a few huge gulps to ease the pain. 

     “Sorry I’m late,” said Frank.

     “No problem.  I’ve only been here a few minutes,” answered Jon.

     “Today was one of those days I worked straight through without eating lunch and now I am starved,” said Frank.

     “I never skip lunch, no matter how busy.  If nothing else, I grab something from the vending machine.  I think I’d pass out if I didn’t get something in my stomach,” said Jon.

     “I just about did.”

     Just as Frank finished his last sentence, the waiter approached with a cold beer in hand.

     “I told him to bring it over when he saw someone sit at my table.”

     “You are a good man Jonathan Givens.”

     “I do all I can.”

     “So what’s new in the world of Epidemiology?” asked Frank.

     “Nothing new.  Which is a good thing.  It’s pretty bad that when your job is exciting, it’s possibly because millions of people are dying.”

     “Yea, what’s good for the masses is bad for you.”

     “What’s happening in your world?  Have they gotten any closer to catching the rebels?”

     “Not that I’ve heard.  But I’ve got a feeling that they will.  Sherman and Brothers are acting like wolves.  I can see the blood in their eyes.  Someone’s kicking their asses over this.”

     “Yea, they’ll get their man.  Sherman hates to lose,” said Jon.

     “How is your family doing?”

     “They’re fine.  Little Joe is starting baseball,” replied Jon.

     “Has he got his father’s stone hands or can he play?” joked Frank.

     “Hey, I was damn good in high school.  If you recall correctly I got a letter in baseball.  What the hell did you letter in?”

     “I lettered in Track,” answered Frank.

     “Track is for pussies,” remarked Jon.