Читать книгу Book II: The Revelations (The Fallen Race Trilogy) - Colin Patrick Garvey - Страница 5

Port Sheldon, Michigan

The helicopter ferried Parker, Augie, and four men to a marina a mile or two from Eisley’s home. At the marina, they commandeered a boat, Parker deciding it safer to approach the house by boat in order to make the least amount of noise possible. In the event Sergeant Kaley is lying low at his uncle’s house, they do not want to scare him off by landing a chopper on the back lawn. Their party already managed to frighten the hell out of the marina owner, who doubted the legality of Parker and his men “borrowing” a boat from the marina. Parker quickly calmed the man with assurances that the boat would be returned unscathed, with the general providing as collateral the backing of the United States government. The man cracked a joke about the national deficit, but ultimately found that he probably did not have much of a choice as he faced the hardened stares of several armed men.

Augie gathered the four men to accompany him and General Parker immediately after receiving the approval of General Cozey. While the men were looking forward to a few solid hours of sack time, the thought of a little adventure certainly piqued their interest. They had been analyzing data and filling out assorted paperwork for the last eight plus hours and felt like they were running in circles. Some time out in the field would definitely be a welcome diversion, however brief. Besides, you could hardly say no to General Parker.

The men are not packing any serious weaponry, but they do have their sidearms just in case. In case of what, Lieutenant Colonel Hermann informed them, is strictly classified for now. They immediately understood that they are primarily muscle, a show of force in this situation, and they are present in order to protect the general in case the shit goes down. Not that the general needs a security detail, but they would certainly discourage a potential enemy from engaging the general and his trusted aide in a firefight, if indeed that is their enemy’s intention.

All that Augie knows about Eisley’s house is the address and that it sits on the water, and the reconnaissance ends there. They know Eisley is an ex-naval intelligence officer and had even boasted a clearance for top secret (TS) information at one time in the United States government. Parker had never met Eisley, but he knows the government does not hand out TS clearances to Joe Sixpack on the street. A TS clearance entails information that is nothing less than crucial to the nation’s security and welfare. Eisley obviously must have been an important, highly regarded officer in the naval intelligence ranks to be afforded such a clearance. Furthermore, he must have been smart enough to stay alive and retire from the business in one piece, which not everyone who works in this particular occupation can claim. Little does Parker know that Eisley’s luck expired only a short time ago.

Augie instructed the men to fan out around the house once the boat comes ashore, and Augie and General Parker would bring up the rear. He emphasized for them to be extremely cautious, to specifically watch where they step because you never know what kind of surprises, i.e. booby traps, a man like Eisley may have constructed around his home. Once the perimeter appears secure, Augie and Parker would enter the home, two of the men would quickly follow, and the other two would stand watch outside.

Parker does not typically carry a sidearm, but he is willing to make an exception in this case, which Augie is more than happy to provide.

When they are approximately 50 feet from shore, Augie softly calls out, “That’s it, boys.”

The boat is slowly tooling along when Augie indicates a house approaching on their right. The engine produces a minimal amount of noise, something they tested before selecting the appropriate boat from the marina. They also switched off the exterior lights of the boat, not wanting to alert anyone on shore to their presence.

One of the men steers the boat towards Eisley’s home, swinging the wheel around to avoid hitting his pier. Augie instructs the man to steer the boat onto a sloping embankment next to the pier, letting it come to rest of its own accord. Within several seconds of hitting the shore, the men disembark, followed by General Parker and Augie. The four men encircle the house, scanning the trees, the bushes, and the exterior of the house for signs of movement. There is none.

Augie receives an “all clear” signal from each of the men, and he nods his head at Parker. They ascend a short flight of stairs that lead to the back door. Without much fanfare, Augie kicks the door open and both men quickly hug either side of the doorframe, ensuring that if any hostiles are waiting for them, their shots would hit nothing but empty air. Augie peeks inside and quickly pulls his head back in case the enemy is extremely patient and not the least bit trigger-happy. No sounds can be heard from inside.

Augie places the radio to his mouth and whispers, “Roth, Hudson, follow us in.”

Augie moves through the doorway, his sidearm sweeping around what appears to be the kitchen, the only illumination emanating from a small light over the stove. General Parker follows and covers the other side of the room. They quickly separate from each other, knowing each other’s movements so well that they could sense where the other is in the house with their eyes closed. They both call out nearly simultaneously, “All clear.”

Roth and Hudson soon follow through the back door and Augie directs them where to search. The four men move throughout the house, turning on lights, checking under beds, and rummaging through every closet, searching for something useful.

After several minutes searching the house, they find nothing. Clearly disappointed, the four of them mill around, looking for anything that might make the trip worthwhile. They look through Eisley’s mail, check around a desk with a computer on it, and look through his cabinets and drawers.

Parker looks around the kitchen, observing the orderliness of-

He looks in the sink and sees two plates, along with a couple sets of silverware and two glasses. A quizzical expression crosses his face.

“Augie,” he asks, “Eisley lived alone, right?”

Augie arrives in the doorway of the kitchen and responds, “Yes, sir, he was widowed. Why?”

Parker points to the sink and Augie sees the dishes.

“Well, maybe he wasn’t very clean,” Augie suggests.

Parker looks skeptically at Augie, recognizing that he is trying to play devil’s advocate.

“Augie,” Parker mockingly scolds, “Eisley was a Navy man and ex-intelligence officer. That just screams ‘neat freak.’

“Besides,” the general motions around, “look at the rest of the house.”

Augie has to admit the place is practically spotless except for the dishes in the sink.

“Eisley had company tonight,” Parker says confidently.

The general continues to look around with his keen eye. He stops and bends down near the doorway they entered through. He moves his hand over something and calls back, “Come look at this, Augie.”

Augie moves towards the general and peers over his shoulder. He sees what appears to be a mini-sensor along the floorboard, tucked inconspicuously beneath a cabinet. The sensor rests directly inside the back door, and would instantly alert Eisley if an intruder has entered his home.

“It’s disabled,” Parker says, matter-of-factly.

Parker continues to look around, muttering under his breath, “He did not have time to turn it on . . .”

Augie waits a moment, allowing the general time to reason it out, as he tends to do.

“He left in a hurry,” Parker states, more to himself than to Augie.

The general stands up and exits the kitchen. Augie follows him, watching the general as he moves into the living room, still mulling something over as he paces back and forth. The general stops and stares at an end table. Parker moves toward it and picks up a cordless phone from the table. He glances back at Augie.

With a shrug, he says casually, “When all else fails.”

Parker turns on the cordless phone and hits the “REDIAL” button, patiently waiting, as if he is calling for a pizza.

The phone rings once, twice, and before the third ring, a gruff voice on the other end answers.

“Yes?”

Parker’s voice catches in his throat. He had not actually anticipated anyone answering, and when someone did, he realized he had not thought of what to say. At the same time, adding to his hesitancy, something clicked in his mind when the man on the other end answered, a recognition of sorts, something from a long time ago.

The voice . . . he had heard the voice before.

But where?

The voice says impatiently, “Hello?”

As authoritatively as he can muster, Parker responds, “Who is this?”

He hopes he can bully a quick answer from the man on the other end of the line.

It does not work. There is a sudden click, and then Parker hears a dial tone. The mystery guest hung up.

Augie looks at him expectantly when Parker suddenly realizes who the voice of the man on the other end of the line belongs to.

“Jesus Christ, Augie, it sounded like . . . Moriah,” Parker says breathlessly.

Augie gives the general a bewildered look, and then inquires, “You mean Joshua Moriah’s son?”

Parker nods, “The same.”

“When is the last time you saw him, let alone spoke to him?” Augie asks.

Parker considers this for a moment before responding, “It must have been not long after his father passed away.”

“That was ten, fifteen years ago. Are you sure, sir?” Augie asks skeptically.

“Augie,” Parker says, “I never forget a face or a voice. It was him. I’m almost sure it was him.”

“Almost sure, sir? I thought he dropped out of sight,” Augie notes. “I mean, there were rumors and stories here and there, but nothing substantiated.”

“I’ve heard all the rumors before, Augie. His father was a patriot. Too much of a patriot if you know what I mean,” Parker adds.

That is the second time the general has said that in the last few hours, Augie thinks. The first time was in reference to Colonel Fizer.

Augie shakes his head, “No, sir, not particularly.”

Parker glances at the men in the other room and says quietly, “Let’s just say Joshua might have been grooming his son to take his place after he was gone.”

Augie also glances at the other men, a look of confusion spreading across his face.

“I’ll explain later,” Parker says dismissively, immediately ending the discussion.

Instantly, all the mystery and intrigue disappear from his features and he springs into action.

He tosses the phone to Augie and asks, “Can you get Waltman to trace that number and find out where he’s at?”

Waltman is a contact at the Department of Justice that Augie was kind enough to inform the general about. Occasionally, Waltman had been willing to perform the odd favor for Augie when called upon, and this would definitely be one of those situations.

Augie usually does not second-guess the general, ever, but it seems like the general is reaching a bit on this one, grasping at something that is not there.

“Sir, pardon for asking, but you want me to have Waltman try to trace the number for a person whose voice you heard for ten seconds? It just feels like we’re jumping the gun here. I mean, it could be the number of Eisley’s-”

“Augie,” Parker interrupts, “we’re wasting valuable time. He hung up on me, so he is obviously suspicious now. He could dump the phone and just like that, there goes what could be a vital lead.

“Listen, Augie,” Parker continues, his eyes boring into Augie’s, “we’re at the home of a man who lives right down the street from the site of a terrorist attack, an ex-intelligence officer whose nephew was last seen on duty at Evans. Now I just heard the voice of a man who I have not seen or talked to in over a decade, whose father knew more secrets concerning our government than both of us could possibly fathom, and you think it might be a coincidence?”

The general’s tone hardens and his eyes seem to grow dark, “There are no coincidences in this business, Lieutenant Colonel Hermann, you and I both know that. Now I am going to get to the bottom of this, but I need you to keep digging along with me.

“Make it happen,” Parker says sternly, with a kind of finality in his voice.

Augie nods his head, a faint hint of regret creeping in as he realizes that he cannot recall an occasion when he openly questioned the general’s orders, for whatever reason. The pressure to find those responsible and the scarcity of immediate leads has begun to gnaw at Augie, who is likely not alone.

He dials Waltman’s number, knowing that he will likely be working late at a time like this. Waltman picks up on the first ring and Augie quickly explains the situation. After the usual “This-could-put-my-ass-in-a-sling” rhetoric from Waltman, he caves and says he will call back Augie within a few minutes.

Those minutes tick by like hours as they wait for Waltman’s call. Finally, after an excruciatingly long three and a half minutes, Waltman calls back.

“Okay . . . yeah . . . got it. Perfect, thanks Walt. Yeah, I know I owe you a steak dinner,” Augie says, as he hangs up the phone.

Parker looks at him expectantly, “Anything?”

“General,” Augie answers, “they got a trace. He was moving westbound at an incredibly high velocity when-”

“Wait, high velocity?” Parker interrupts.

“He’s in a plane, sir,” Augie clarifies. “They captured a cell phone signal moving hundreds of miles an hour through the air for several seconds when suddenly, the signal disappeared.”

“He probably recognized my voice and got rid of the phone, or just turned it off,” Parker suggests.

Augie shakes his head, “No, sir. Walt said they still could have traced it even if it was turned off. He destroyed it.”

“Did they get a lock on his location? What about the plane? Can they follow it somehow?” Parker fires off the questions without giving Augie a chance to answer.

“Sir,” Augie says calmly, “they’re working on it. What they do know is that the signal was traced high above the plains of . . get this . . central Montana.”

“Montana? Could he have used a scrambler to throw us off the scent?” Parker inquires.

“They ran it, sir, it’s a clear, crisp signal. They’ll contact the airports on the plane’s route to see if they can get more information on its final destination, where it took off from, and whatever else they can gather.”

“Alright,” Parker says, with a pleased look on his face, “he’ll contact you when he knows something more?”

“Yes, sir,” Augie responds, waiting for the general to tell him that he told him so. But the general surprises him.

“Good work, Augie,” he commends. “You never cease to amaze.”

“One of my many talents, sir,” Augie gallantly replies.

The general moves towards the back door of the house and continues deftly delivering orders, “Call Anderson, tell him we’re coming to pick him up in Tamawaca, and to have that disc with him. Call our pilot at the airfield and instruct him to have the plane fully fueled and that we’ll be there within the hour.”

The general turns to look at Augie and says, as if they are about to embark on a road trip, “We’re heading west, Augie, pack your trunks and your shades.”

“Yes, sir,” Augie responds, smiling at the general’s rather jocular comment in the midst of all the seriousness.

But then, just as quickly, the lighthearted moment disappears. As the general reaches the doorway, he turns around, squares his shoulders, and gives a rapid, crisp salute.

“Thanks, swabby, I pray you and your nephew are alright,” he says wistfully, the tone of his voice betraying what he feels inside. With that, the general disappears out the door, Augie following closely behind.

After the brief exchange, Moriah contemplated whether the man on the other end of the line recognized his voice. However terse their conversation, Moriah managed to recognize his.

General Theodore Parker. The one and only, Moriah thinks.

Dammit, why did I fail to look at the number of the incoming caller before answering?

He would have seen Eisley’s number and known it could not have possibly been him. Instead, in his haste and with all the surrounding distractions, he absent-mindedly answered the phone.

Parker had known his father, not intimately, and certainly not in a friendly manner, but rather they were acquaintances in the social circles of Washington politics. Of course, Parker has always been known to avoid dabbling in the political realm of the country’s affairs, his animosity of special interests and lobbyists well-known and long-standing. Parker has never been a man prone to kowtow to these groups, as he tends to view most situations in black and white, right versus wrong. After all, he is a military man, and not one to put up with bullshit or willing to follow anyone’s secret agenda. Parker understood, however, that some of the most important and crucial decisions regarding the nation considered the politics involved, and he recognized this as both necessary and ever-present, and he learned to deal with it.

Moriah’s father, on the other hand, worked the intricacies of Washington politics like a card shark at a penny ante poker game. He knew the right buttons to push and he became an expert at working the system. He also knew the Foundation was above all that, that the group did not have to answer to anybody or anything. He realized, however, that his agenda could be implemented more smoothly and with less problems when he had the right people in government on board. He guided the Foundation and the nation through difficult times with the assistance of these people because he understood what they wanted. It was actually quite simple: they wanted to look good for their constituents, they wanted to be re-elected, and they wanted their families financially secure. When these factors were met, the elder Moriah found that working the halls of Congress was fairly easy.

When Alex Moriah became older and less naïve, his father instructed him on the inner workings of the country, the purpose and obligations of the Foundation, and how its plans are carried out by the many men and women who work on its behalf across the globe. The elder Moriah taught his son the leadership abilities he would use, and he explained the responsibilities his son would one day inherit after he had passed on. Joshua taught his son how to nurture and foster relationships with his informers, how to tell them what they wanted and indeed, what they needed, to hear; he taught him how to make the tough decisions that needed to be made, and how a conscience is a component they could ill afford; he revealed to him that the fate of humanity could one day rest in his hands, and what he needed to do to ensure its survival; and most importantly, he taught him how to always cover his ass in case the shit hits the fan.

The younger Moriah knew his father and General Parker always had an adversarial relationship, but Alex never knew the root cause of the tension between them. He questioned his father about it on more than one occasion, but the elder Moriah always managed to brush off his son’s queries. What Alex did know is that Parker held a bitter disdain for his father, obviously jealous of the man’s power and envious of his father’s various connections in Washington. Alex can still feel the bile rise in his throat when he recalls Parker expressing his insincere condolences after his father passed away. Shaking the man’s hand, Moriah had wanted to punch his lights out, but he restrained himself.

Alex knew that his power would one day surpass the power held by Parker and other high-ranking military officers, intelligence directors, cabinet members, and the President himself. He knew that he would have the last laugh, and Parker would be nothing more than an insignificant pawn in the overall scheme of things.

How could I have been so careless though?

Moriah maintains an army of informants, contacts, spies, and snitches throughout the country who keep him abreast of every situation that needs monitoring, but more often than not, he scolds himself, he should be using intermediaries. His primary concern, however, with using intermediaries is that a crucial fact or vital piece of intelligence may become lost in the transmission. Moriah prefers to hear it, as the saying goes, from the horse’s mouth, without a third party filtering the information to him. Of course, this lends itself to problems from time to time, as evidenced by his most recent phone call.

While Moriah debated for far too long, unaware that his indecisiveness was assisting the Department of Justice in their search, he weighed the options of severing communication lines with his various contacts, especially during this most crucial of times, or being located by Parker and his merry band of do-gooders. Finally, he makes his decision.

He places the phone on the floor of the cabin and uses the bottom of the plane’s fire extinguisher to crush the phone into a multitude of pieces. Moriah grounds the pieces into the floor with his foot, not knowing that in this case, he was too late when it came to making a quick, and the most prudent, decision.