Chapter 6/7
Chapters Six & Seven
Mon/May/2008 07:00 AM
Chapter Six -
Touching Down
Jeff looked down at the approaching helicopter pad on the roof of the University Hospital. He glanced at his watch - 11:52. Perfect timing. Not too early and definitely not late. A brisk walk through the corridors, his people at his sides, and they’d be arriving for their meeting right on time. He could be scatterbrained at times, but whether or not people waited for important people was beside the point for him; in his mind, important people didn’t leave others waiting, cause they didn’t have time to waste.
The rotor blades whipperwooled overhead as the copter came in for a landing, its skids gently setting down on the concrete. Jeff secretly loved the bustle of such arrivals. He was notorious for his secretive activities and his private personality -- when people talked of his old company, he was inevitably referred to as the “phantom co-founder” or the “accidental gazillionaire” -- but that didn’t bother him. He preferred to remain less well known than his old high school friend, who’d stuck with the company and wound up assuming the position of world’s wealthiest man. For Jeff, it was more fun to have the perks, the wealth, the fame, but go through life with fewer ruffled feathers, so that when someone did recognize him, he could still feign cluelessness, but savor the kick of recognition.
A young guy, probably a hospital PR rep, walked up to the copter, accompanied by a landing attendant, they held the cabin doors open as Jeff, Nina, and David disembarked. The PR guy was shouting something at them, but Jeff neither heard, nor paid attention to what he was saying. They followed their greeters across the roof toward an open doorway where another guy, a college age kid, was waiting anxiously. This guy clearly knew who Jeff was. He was probably a business major, working at the hospital on a co-op or something. He wore an ill-fitted suit, his hair, tie, and shoes all ever so slightly mismatched, not quite tailored to his posture, but he was on the right track. The kid nodded to him with a smile and Jeff nodded back. The noise from the copter was deafening, but Jeff could just make out the kid’s bellowed “Pleasure to meet you!” as he put out his hand, which Jeff reached out and shook. He patted the kid on the shoulder as the group ducked into the building. Then they were off, racing down corridors, Italian leather shoes clapping on linoleum hospital floors. The PR guy chattered away about their schedule and what an honor it was to meet him. Jeff just thought about the kid’s expression when he’d shaken his hand. That was the look of excitement, these other people, the hospital reps, they were just bootlicking toadies. Jeff didn’t want their tongue’s smearing his shiny shoes.
Chapter Seven - Inside
The guy at the front gate didn’t even blink. He didn’t nod. Didn’t hold his gaze on them. Nothing. He just took Tim’s pass, glanced from the picture on the card to the man behind the wheel of the black van, and pushed a button to raise the gate. Tim pulled the van forward and glanced at his companion in the passenger seat, who nodded at him once. Then he continued down the back driveway behind the hospital, looking into his rear view mirror to see if the second group would make it through the security gate with as little notice as he had. He could see the second van coming down the back road to the gate, past the construction site where crews were busy working on the new addition to the hospital. A huge crane towered over the site, its hook and pulley system hoisting materials from the ground and up a dozen stories overhead. Tim’s gaze flashed from a rising beam of metal at the end of the crane’s cable, back down to the van below, where an arm was reaching out to hand the guard another pass, just like his own, then the arm pulled back into the cab as the gate opened and the van drove through.
They were in.
It had taken them the better part of two years to get everything in place, from assembling his team in the country, to setting up their bank accounts, living arrangements, and jobs. Whenever possible, they’d found ways to get themselves jobs at the university, ones that got them as close as possible to the center of the organization’s operations. Most of them worked as janitors. One had even gotten a position in the campus safety department, which had proved immeasurably helpful in forging security clearances for the members of the team that had taken work outside of the University.
Why were they in the United States?
What was their intention?
They weren’t terrorists. Not in any traditional sense. Maybe according to western culture they were, but that was a world whose opinions they did not value. They weren’t here to hurt the Americans. They weren’t trying to murder or control the people they encountered while carrying out their mission; those people were not the ultimate target. If they got in the way, that might change, Tim knew that neither he, nor his men, would hesitate to kill or use anyone they encountered in order to further their progress. He had no doubt there would be casualties today, but their goal was not to instill fear, their goal was to find weapons, weapons no one had ever seen, weapons for which there was no defense. Once they had what they’d come looking for, they would take them to the places where they could best aid in advancing their cause. That was where the real terror would come in, but that was far from here. Still, just because they weren’t after Americans, that didn’t mean they didn’t have their problems with them. Several of his men would have been more than happy to twist their plans back on the people of the country where they had been operating for the last few of years. Others found themselves drawn into the culture more than they could ever have thought possible, and those were the ones that might have problems carrying out today’s task. Their mission in and of itself was simple, at least on paper: They were here to pick up a weapon. They had found exactly what they’d been looking for and more. If dropping the bomb on Hiroshima had sent a shockwave through the world, one that essentially stopped the war in its tracks, while at the same time destroying not only the people of the city, but every square inch of land and civilization, then this weapon would have that same effect, but keep the infrastructure and the physical world intact.
As they approached southeast corner of the building, the road swooped downwards, and the van slipped into the darkness of an underground parking facility. As with everything, their parking arrangements had been carefully mapped out. Tim drove down one level, circled the van around the back corner of the garage, and backed into a spot tucked between two massive concrete support columns. A moment later, the second van approached and backed in beside them. Tim shut down the van’s engine and got out of the cab.
“Did you have any problems?” he asked.
The other driver shook his head.
“Then it’s time to get started.”
The side doors of both vans slid open, and a half dozen people slipped out of each vehicle. Their eyes were set, cold and determined, as they filed out into the darkness. There were fourteen men total, including Tim. They were all ready, they were all armed, and they were all dressed in Seattle Fire Department gear.
“Check you equipment.”
Tim heard the solid, cold sounds of well oiled metal clicking and engaging as his men loaded their firearms and slipped them inside their coats. They stood waiting for his order to move out.
Tim hesitated. Once they began, there was no turning back. He took one deep breath to center himself.
“Let’s go.”
Jeff looked down at the approaching helicopter pad on the roof of the University Hospital. He glanced at his watch - 11:52. Perfect timing. Not too early and definitely not late. A brisk walk through the corridors, his people at his sides, and they’d be arriving for their meeting right on time. He could be scatterbrained at times, but whether or not people waited for important people was beside the point for him; in his mind, important people didn’t leave others waiting, cause they didn’t have time to waste.
The rotor blades whipperwooled overhead as the copter came in for a landing, its skids gently setting down on the concrete. Jeff secretly loved the bustle of such arrivals. He was notorious for his secretive activities and his private personality -- when people talked of his old company, he was inevitably referred to as the “phantom co-founder” or the “accidental gazillionaire” -- but that didn’t bother him. He preferred to remain less well known than his old high school friend, who’d stuck with the company and wound up assuming the position of world’s wealthiest man. For Jeff, it was more fun to have the perks, the wealth, the fame, but go through life with fewer ruffled feathers, so that when someone did recognize him, he could still feign cluelessness, but savor the kick of recognition.
A young guy, probably a hospital PR rep, walked up to the copter, accompanied by a landing attendant, they held the cabin doors open as Jeff, Nina, and David disembarked. The PR guy was shouting something at them, but Jeff neither heard, nor paid attention to what he was saying. They followed their greeters across the roof toward an open doorway where another guy, a college age kid, was waiting anxiously. This guy clearly knew who Jeff was. He was probably a business major, working at the hospital on a co-op or something. He wore an ill-fitted suit, his hair, tie, and shoes all ever so slightly mismatched, not quite tailored to his posture, but he was on the right track. The kid nodded to him with a smile and Jeff nodded back. The noise from the copter was deafening, but Jeff could just make out the kid’s bellowed “Pleasure to meet you!” as he put out his hand, which Jeff reached out and shook. He patted the kid on the shoulder as the group ducked into the building. Then they were off, racing down corridors, Italian leather shoes clapping on linoleum hospital floors. The PR guy chattered away about their schedule and what an honor it was to meet him. Jeff just thought about the kid’s expression when he’d shaken his hand. That was the look of excitement, these other people, the hospital reps, they were just bootlicking toadies. Jeff didn’t want their tongue’s smearing his shiny shoes.
Chapter Seven - Inside
The guy at the front gate didn’t even blink. He didn’t nod. Didn’t hold his gaze on them. Nothing. He just took Tim’s pass, glanced from the picture on the card to the man behind the wheel of the black van, and pushed a button to raise the gate. Tim pulled the van forward and glanced at his companion in the passenger seat, who nodded at him once. Then he continued down the back driveway behind the hospital, looking into his rear view mirror to see if the second group would make it through the security gate with as little notice as he had. He could see the second van coming down the back road to the gate, past the construction site where crews were busy working on the new addition to the hospital. A huge crane towered over the site, its hook and pulley system hoisting materials from the ground and up a dozen stories overhead. Tim’s gaze flashed from a rising beam of metal at the end of the crane’s cable, back down to the van below, where an arm was reaching out to hand the guard another pass, just like his own, then the arm pulled back into the cab as the gate opened and the van drove through.
They were in.
It had taken them the better part of two years to get everything in place, from assembling his team in the country, to setting up their bank accounts, living arrangements, and jobs. Whenever possible, they’d found ways to get themselves jobs at the university, ones that got them as close as possible to the center of the organization’s operations. Most of them worked as janitors. One had even gotten a position in the campus safety department, which had proved immeasurably helpful in forging security clearances for the members of the team that had taken work outside of the University.
Why were they in the United States?
What was their intention?
They weren’t terrorists. Not in any traditional sense. Maybe according to western culture they were, but that was a world whose opinions they did not value. They weren’t here to hurt the Americans. They weren’t trying to murder or control the people they encountered while carrying out their mission; those people were not the ultimate target. If they got in the way, that might change, Tim knew that neither he, nor his men, would hesitate to kill or use anyone they encountered in order to further their progress. He had no doubt there would be casualties today, but their goal was not to instill fear, their goal was to find weapons, weapons no one had ever seen, weapons for which there was no defense. Once they had what they’d come looking for, they would take them to the places where they could best aid in advancing their cause. That was where the real terror would come in, but that was far from here. Still, just because they weren’t after Americans, that didn’t mean they didn’t have their problems with them. Several of his men would have been more than happy to twist their plans back on the people of the country where they had been operating for the last few of years. Others found themselves drawn into the culture more than they could ever have thought possible, and those were the ones that might have problems carrying out today’s task. Their mission in and of itself was simple, at least on paper: They were here to pick up a weapon. They had found exactly what they’d been looking for and more. If dropping the bomb on Hiroshima had sent a shockwave through the world, one that essentially stopped the war in its tracks, while at the same time destroying not only the people of the city, but every square inch of land and civilization, then this weapon would have that same effect, but keep the infrastructure and the physical world intact.
As they approached southeast corner of the building, the road swooped downwards, and the van slipped into the darkness of an underground parking facility. As with everything, their parking arrangements had been carefully mapped out. Tim drove down one level, circled the van around the back corner of the garage, and backed into a spot tucked between two massive concrete support columns. A moment later, the second van approached and backed in beside them. Tim shut down the van’s engine and got out of the cab.
“Did you have any problems?” he asked.
The other driver shook his head.
“Then it’s time to get started.”
The side doors of both vans slid open, and a half dozen people slipped out of each vehicle. Their eyes were set, cold and determined, as they filed out into the darkness. There were fourteen men total, including Tim. They were all ready, they were all armed, and they were all dressed in Seattle Fire Department gear.
“Check you equipment.”
Tim heard the solid, cold sounds of well oiled metal clicking and engaging as his men loaded their firearms and slipped them inside their coats. They stood waiting for his order to move out.
Tim hesitated. Once they began, there was no turning back. He took one deep breath to center himself.
“Let’s go.”