Veil (31 page)

“Before you say no, just hear me out.”

Brock rolled his eyes.

“They have to think you’re gone. They have to
think you’ve left, especially General Coffman. Hell, he thinks
you’re coming to dinner tomorrow night. When they notice I’m gone,
they’re going to look for you, too. And they have to think you’re
gone.”

Brock pulled down the corners of his mouth,
closed his eyes
,
and nodded a little, as
if to indicate, yeah, that made sense.

“So here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll call the
General up and tell him you’re leaving tonight. I wasn’t feeling
well all day
,
and you didn’t want to risk
getting sick so you decided it was best to leave because our Monday
plans were going to be shot. The General will of course be
understanding and will still excuse me from work
tomorrow
.
I was scheduled to be off
anyway. Hell, maybe when I don’t show on Tuesday they’ll assume I’m
still sick. Even better.”

“Ok. But, what’s the ‘but’?” Brock responded
through the computer.

“Yeah, the ‘but
.
’
Well, if we’re going to do this, they need to think you’ve actually
left,” Hunter replied and looked down to fidget with his hands. He
remained silent and fidgety for a few moments.

Brock didn’t like where the conversation was
headed.

“Generally
,
airlines
keep records of who boards a plane. They only keep detailed records
of who used their tickets, ya know? So really, all you have to do
is board the plane.”

Brock definitely knew where Hunter was headed
and groaned.

“So all you have to do is board it and then
have a little freak out or something. You know, a panic attack.
Piss yourself. Whatever. Enough of a scene to get them to let you
off the plane. The minute you’re deplaned, you could just roll off
and that’s it. There will be so much commotion that they probably
won’t remember to remove you from the boarding list. They might not
even know which passenger you were if you leave right away. They
might not care.”

Brock considered the scenario
.
He was already picturing the aggravated passengers
and flustered flight attendants, while Hunter continued on.

“I know it will be embarrassing, and I swear
this will be the last time I use you. We’ve come this
far
,
and we need to make sure all the
bases are covered, bud. We have to make sure everyone is safe. You
included. And I’ll be there at the airport. The only part you’ll
have to do by yourself is on the airplane, promise.”

It was nice to see Hunter sweat over
consideration of someone else’s feelings, but he didn’t want to
torture him for too long.

After a pause while he typed, Brock replied,
“It’s ok. It means I get to play honey badger again.”

Hunter looked at Brock and tilted his head.
He walked to the monitor attached to Brock’s chair and read the
last part of the sentence to make sure he heard it correctly.

“Honey badger? What in the fuck?” Hunter
balled his hand into a fist and knuckle-rapped Brock’s head three
times and asked his friend, “Did you just have a seizure or some
shit?”

After he failed to locate and retrieve Dr.
Kennerly—as instructed by two scientists who wanted the doctor to
report to their lab—a hesitant serviceman knocked on the General’s
door.

“Fuck! What? Enter!”

The serviceman slowly entered the General’s
office and stood in front of the General’s desk at full
attention.

“What?” The General hated Mondays. Whatever
he was about to be told, he already knew it was too early for the
shit.

“Sir, Dr. Kennerly is … ummm. Well, he’s
missing, sir.”

The General put down his pen and leaned back
in his chair.

“Missing? What do you mean he’s missing?”

“Sir, no one has seen the doctor since last
Sunday, sir. He hasn’t been seen since he left the lab last
Sunday.”

“So you mean since yesterday, then?”

The serviceman let out a nervous cough before
he clarified, “Sir, no sir, since last Sunday. Eight days ago, sir.
Apparently Dr. Kennerly has been missing for eight days, sir.”

“H
ow much money do
you have?” was the first thing the man asked when Ken opened the
door. He pushed past Ken and headed to one of the empty tables in
the lab. His friend in the wheelchair was a little politer and
offered up a kind of half-nod while he sat in the doorway.

“Please, come in,” Ken told the gentleman he
met several days prior. He moved to one side so the wheelchair
would fit
.
After Brock wheeled into the
lab, Ken closed the door and locked it behind them.

“Excuse me?” Ken asked Hunter and made sure
the irritation in his tone was obvious.

“How much money do you have?” he asked again
before he paused and, Ken hoped, realized how he sounded. Hunter
continued, “Look
,
I’m sorry. It’s just
that there are so many things I’ve needed to do but haven’t been
able to because I couldn’t risk any kind of outside communication
or attempt any kind of contact. There are some very crucial people
who we have to connect with immediately for their help.” He rambled
on as he unloaded and powered up a laptop. “So if I seem rude or
short I do kinda apologize, but for the time being, I need you to
keep the sand out of your vagina. In other words, keep up, buck up,
and don’t take anything personally. Then after I take care of a few
things that must be done right now, we can chat about all the shit
you want. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Ken responded and walked to
the table where Hunter was getting situated. “But first should we
get some introductions out of the way?”

“Please, don’t insult my intelligence, and I
won’t shit all up on yours. You know who we are and we know who you
are. Our presence here is introduction enough. So, how much
money?”

“Ummm … I don’t really have an exact amount,
but it’s plenty. A lot. And if, for some reason, it’s not enough,
we have access to more.”

“Do you have at least,” Hunter did some
calculations in his head, “say 50,000 cash?”

“Yes.”

“Ok good. I have to send the design specs to
my guy in San Diego to get at least twenty units made and shipped
to us immediately. We can program them for operation ourselves. I’m
not letting the code out of our possession yet. Still, we can’t do
shit without actual factory Veils produced and in our hands.”

“I understand.”

“Where’s the one you made? Hopefully you
could make one. Please tell me you made one.”

“Yes, I duplicated the prototype from the
schematics Mr. Elsbeth provided,” Ken reported and went to his
desk. He unlocked it and pulled out the Veil he built. He walked
back to the table and placed it next to Hunter’s computer.

“Jesus, that’s an ugly bitch.”

“I wasn’t going for aesthetics. I was going
for speed. I had four days.”

“I know. I don’t really care. It’s just ugly.
Kinda funny.”

Damn, the guy was rude.

Hunter booted his computer, opened the Veil
schematics he finalized in the military lab
,
and highlighted only the parts that referenced the
design and manufacturing of the unit. He pasted the information
into a separate document and opened his email program. At the same
time, he took out his phone and placed a call.

While he waited for the person on the other
end to answer, he snapped his fingers at Ken, pointed at his laptop
and said, “Connect me to your wireless, dude.”

Dude?

The person picked up Hunter’s call.

“It’s Hunter. I just made it to the lab and
got the computer out. I’m sending the specs to you now. I need
twenty. Immediately. I’m sending it over now, look at it.” He hit
send and waited for the person on the other line to respond. “Ok,
how soon can you do twenty?”

Hunter put his hand over the microphone and
asked Ken, “Can you do seventy-five?”

Ken nodded and went to take his wallet out.
Hunter waved his hand at Ken and shook his head.

“Ok look,” Hunter continued with the person
over the phone, “that’s no good. Don’t be a douche. I’ll throw in
an additional twenty-five as a bonus if you can get them done and
in my hands in half that time. I need them by Thursday at the
latest. Twenty of them. Exactly to those specs. Exactly. Ok? … Oh,
come on man, I know if you shut down production of everything else
and focus on this one thing, your guys could have them done
tonight. So don’t jerk me around. I’m asking a personal favor. And
willing to pay. I need these made and you have every single nut and
bolt right there.”

There was a rather long pause and before he
ended the call Hunter said, “Ok good. Don’t make me come hunt down
your family. You know I will. Contact me at this number when you’re
ready to ship them; I’ll give you the address and we’ll settle up
then. If I need to change numbers for some reason, I’ll email you.
You’re awesome, man thanks.”

After he hung up, Hunter placed another
call.

“This is Hunter Kennerly from Caltech calling
for Anderson. Tell him I’m calling in my favor. He’ll know who I
am. Don’t put me on hold. If I hear that music, I’ll have you
fired. I’m not fucking kidding.”

Again, he put his hand over the microphone
and whispered to Ken, “I designed some simple neuroprosthetic for
his friend’s son. Some surfing accident or shark attack or some
shit. He contacted me personally all crying and shit and said he’d
consider it a personal favor. The fucker couldn’t have kissed my
ass harder afterwards if he tried.”

Hunter switched back to the phone when the
Anderson fellow obviously accepted his call. “Yeah … yup yup, good
… How is he? … Great … Yeah. That’s right. How soon can you get me
on? … No good, I’ll be ready by Friday. Can you push something
around? … Hell, schedule a special on Saturday. Trust me Anderson,
I’ll come in early and show you what I’ve got. This will be the
biggest story you could dream of. Fuck Bill O’Reilly. I fucking
hate Bill O’Reilly. No one else but you can touch this … Yeah …
Yup, so you know it’s something good … Yeah. In D.C. … Ok, give me
an address,” Hunter typed something into his computer. “Ok, let’s
meet two hours beforehand, and you can take it for a test run
yourself. You won’t believe it Anderson; you won’t fucking believe
it … Ok … Ok … Film on Saturday but air on Monday, that’s fine with
me … Good, make it happen. If I don’t see you Saturday, I’m taking
that kid’s leg back … You’re right, sorry, that’s not funny. But I
will.”

Another called ended, and another call placed
immediately after. The person didn’t answer so Hunter sent a text
message and within thirty seconds his phone rang.

“Hey babe, book a hotel around D.C. for
tomorrow. A nice one. Be available all day tomorrow and wait my
further sexy ass instructions.”

Hunter looked at Brock and raised his
eyebrows suggestively a couple of times. Brock rolled his eyes.

“You got it, don’t worry about that, just get
your sugar tits here.”

With that, Hunter hit “end” on his phone,
threw it on the table
,
and sat down by
straddling the chair in front of him. Ken didn’t know what to
think. Within no more than fifteen minutes of his arrival, Hunter
coordinated the production of twenty factory-made Veil units,
scheduled a television appearance
,
and
arranged what suspiciously sounded like a booty-call.

Ken couldn’t be sure on that last one.

All the above while saying something
offensive or insulting to each person, no less. Who the hell was
he? Ken found it hard to believe the sophomoric whirlwind of a man
in his lab was the same person who designed the mobile Veil unit.
If he didn’t know better he’d think he was on that
Candid
Camera
show where they tricked people. He almost hoped he was.
It might be better than that Hunter guy actually earning a
doctorate.