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Authors: David Golemon

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BOOK: The Traveler
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“What is it?” Anya asked halfway up the stairs.

“Incinerator,” Sarah said as she pulled the right-side door all the way open, allowing the smell of old trash and smoke to fill her nostrils. She waved her hand in front of her face to clear the air as she leaned in.

“Hope you don't find any bodies in there. I don't think I could handle that in the dark.”

Sarah reached in and pulled out several pieces of half-burned paper. She shined the flashlight's beam on the first and she almost dropped the small, half-ashen bundle to the damp floor. Sarah swallowed and then looked at the graphic charcoal art. The disturbing work had possibly been done by a young, although talented artist. Her face screwed up into a mask of horror as she studied the drawings on page after page of heavy paper. Sarah reached into the gaping maw of the long-dead furnace and brought out even more of the heavy art paper.

“What is it?”

Sarah stepped away with her light's beam shakily illuminating the blackest, most disturbing artwork she had ever seen. She had heard the descriptions but had never imagined seeing anything like these in person. She looked from the names on the old math pages and then at the horrid bundle of half-burned artistry.

“No, no body, but definitely some old skeletons.”

BROOKLYN, NAVY YARD

The dark and overcast skies had given way to fog, which suited Virginia and her team just fine. Mendenhall and Ryan had very nearly emptied out the security department with the exception of a bare minimum team at the complex and they were dangerously short on security requirements until they heavily recruited from the military, which is a very time-intensive process security-wise. The result was that they had shortcomings at both ends and Ryan took it upon himself to take both security gates at the complex off line until it was prudent to open them again. He didn't know if the colonel was going to gig him for that mission choice, but it was his decision to make. The word had gone out about their afternoon visitors and now the twenty-seven security men and women had M-4s, the very much smaller version of the venerable M-16, to accompany their sidearms.

Virginia stood with the general manager of the Navy Yard Development Corporation as he complained about the closing of the waterway, which was slowing water traffic. Ships were waiting to enter the river. The man was about to voice his second argument of inconvenience when Mendenhall approached with two plain-clothed security men, who carried their weapons at port arms. Will didn't have to say a word. He wanted this man out of the way before Virginia's surprise for Jenks arrived on station. The navy yard manager saw the weapons and then with narrowed eyes he turned and stormed back to his Mercedes and left.

“Signal the harbormaster that the dock has been cleared,” Virginia said to one of her assistants. “Will, you can inform those boys from Groton their prized possession has arrived.”

Mendenhall nodded and then used his radio to inform the men that stood just outside of the entrance to building 114. Six men in overalls and rain gear came into view as they lined the dock, which had been drained, cleaned, and then refilled with water. They waited.

Virginia greeted Niles and Jack as they escorted a grumbling Jenks to the quay lining the expansive dry dock area.

“Okay, we're here. I see Slim and a bunch of idiots standing in the fog. I've got simulations I need to run. In case you haven't noticed I still don't have any damn power. And thus far in simulations we have killed everyone on the team sixteen times before they even step through the gate. Those damn lasers will cut people to shreds if this thing doesn't work to everyone's expectations. Remember, Slim, these are Argon light-emitting lasers, the most dangerous light outside of the sun.”

Niles smiled and then shook his head as if he were listening to a complaining school child.
Engineers,
he thought.

“Harold, will you shut up while we take care of that power problem you keep going on about?” Virginia said as she stepped closer to the river side of the dock and looked as if she was waiting for something. She raised a radio to her lips and the elegant woman half turned and saw Jenks looking on curiously. She smiled. “Harold, what were you before you became our worst nightmare and an engineer?” She spoke softly into the radio to someone, and then turned and faced the three men on the dock. She saw Henri join the group with a questioning look on his face. Jack nodded toward the confrontation between Jenks and Virginia—a confrontation Dr. Pollock was about to conclude rather dramatically.

“You know damn good and well what I was,” Jenks said as he chewed on the cigar and stared down the smiling nuclear scientist.

“Oh, yes, that's right, something about a career navy man, wasn't it?”

A sour look from the master chief answered for him.

“Then I hasten to question, sir, why in the hell did I have to think of this for your power solution?”

“What solution?” Jenks asked, spitting the cigar out and walking forward to join Virginia. Niles, Jack, and Henri followed. Will Mendenhall hung back grinning, knowing the master chief had finally met his match, of which said information would be spread throughout the Group in a matter of minutes.

Virginia touched his whiskered cheek and then took hold of his chin and forcefully turned his head toward the fog-enshrouded East River and the entrance to the navy yard.

“This is why the president is now murderously curious and worried beyond measure that our little mission is spreading out rather wide. The Department of the Navy is going to start throwing a fit when they find out what it is we have stolen,” Niles said as he leaned on his crutch. “A lot of strings were pulled. I only hope it's not enough string to hang us all.”

Suddenly Jenks saw the waves of rolling fog pushed aside as a hulking black form slowly emerged from the white undulating veil. Jenks heard commands being given as the giant sail and conning tower eased slowly out of the river proper. The giant moved as gracefully as she ever had. The maneuver was dangerous in the darkness and fog without a large naval docking team. However, Virginia, who had been employed by the General Dynamics Electric Boat Division in the early eighties, knew the skipper well and knew him to be the best retired boat captain in the U.S. Navy.

“I'll be damned and go to hell,” Jenks said as he slapped Virginia on her backside, making her jump and yelp.

“You people never cease to amaze the unenlightened,” Farbeaux said as he showed his shock at what was slowly approaching like a monster from deep-sea lore. He looked at a worn and tired Niles Compton. “Kudos, Mr. Director, I'm sure you made one or two enemies with this little party favor.”

“Colonel, you have no idea.”

Out of the fog came the black silhouette of one of the most famous vessels in the history of the U.S. Navy. Jenks smiled at the white numbers on her enormous sail tower. Her rounded bow moved the dark water out of her path with ease and efficiency. This was the class of boat that had scared the old Soviet Union to disastrous decision making in the seventies and eighties, and this was the lead boat in that particular class. Jenks smiled as the USS
Los Angeles,
the matron of her submarine class, eased into the softly moving waters of the docking area as the men on shore grabbed lines tossed to them by the civilian crew of the fast attack submarine. The numbers on her towering sail claimed that SSN-688 had arrived at her temporary berthing station.

“The old girl looks good, don't she?” Jenks said, and then slapped Virginia on her ass once more as he paced forward to watch the old lady tie up. He was joined by the others.

Gone were the massive sail planes that once shaded her deck from the enormous conning tower. The finlike diving planes had been replaced to make the boat more streamlined, but other than that the 688 lead boat had not changed in outward appearance since her deactivation in 2010, until she was finally decommissioned on February 4, 2011.

“Why is she out of her retirement barn?” Jenks asked.

“She was turned back over to General Dynamics for use as a test platform.” Virginia turned and faced Jenks. “As a naval engineer I thought you would have been in the know.” She smiled and then turned to watch the crew tie up the 362 feet of rolled steel. “But I guess some things slip by the old master chief, huh?”

Niles looked down to keep Jenks from knowing that Virginia had set him up from the beginning. His doubting her engineering prowess was starting to get on his assistant director's nerves.

“Okay, give,” Jenks said as he looked from the men who seemed to be in on this little joke to Virginia.

“That, Master Chief, is your portable power source.” She turned to walk away but stopped and faced Jenks once more. “Since her retirement she has been fitted with a new General Electric S6G reactor, capable of generating 242 kilowatts of power in an experimental power source scenario for disaster relief. She is now back in the hands of the men and women who had built her and is privately owned, and no one from the city power grid”—she looked at Niles—“or the president's other curious agencies will ever be the wiser. At least until General Dynamics reports her missing and overdue.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jenks mumbled as electrical cable started to be strung from building 114 to the submarine's engineering spaces. Others of Jenks's staff had been ordered to start spreading camouflage netting over the giant boat. He was too taken aback to face Virginia.

Each man turned from the boat and then Niles walked past the master chief first. “Yes, sir, that is one brilliant lady.”

Then Jack walked by. “I knew I liked Virginia from the start.”

It was Henri's turn. “What she sees in you, my salty old friend, I know not.”

Will just stopped and looked at Jenks, who stood waiting.

“Now you see what us everyday mortals face around here.” He laughed and then walked away.

Jenks lit another cigar as he saw Charlie Ellenshaw walk up and stare at the large submarine and the crew scrambling over her blackened deck like ants. He smiled.

“Great idea, Master Chief.”

“Is that what you think, Nerdly?” he grumbled at a shocked Charlie and then turned and left. No one saw the gratified smile on his face as he thought about the woman he called “Slim.”

*   *   *

The meeting started without Virginia Pollock, Anya Korvesky, or Sarah McIntire. While the master chief explained that Virginia was with Madam Mendelsohn working on the new power grid, the whereabouts of Sarah and Anya were yet unexplained. Will Mendenhall had reported that even though the two had not answered their cell phones, Europa narrowed down their geopositioning markers as somewhere between Brooklyn and Upstate New York heading south. Will could see by the looks on the faces of Niles and Collins that the two men were not amused in the least that two members of the planning staff were not present for the final Antarctica brief before powering up the doorway.

“Okay, I was expecting the geology report from Lieutenant McIntire, but it seems that she and our new head of foreign intelligence decided to head north of here for some unknown reason,” Compton said as he looked at Alice, knowing she knew something about the disappearance but was being mum on the subject.

Charlie Ellenssaw spoke up from his spot at the far end of the table. “I have been in contact with the geology department at Sarah's request and have combined the zoology report and the geological reports. If I may?”

Everyone saw the scar rise above the eye patch covering the damaged right eye of Compton. He took a deep breath and then nodded at Ellenshaw.

“I will start with what we know zoologically. For that it would be best to hand it over to Dr. Morales and Europa.”

“Doctor?” Niles said, looking over at the large monitor where Xavier Morales sat waiting to divulge everything they had come up with. The technical genius had finally moved permanently from the clean room and privacy and into the far more expansive computer center to be with his tech people. He could see the young Morales was starting to feel at home.

“Yes. With direction from the natural history museums in Denver, Oslo, Denmark, and several more in the United Kingdom, we can honestly say with any certainty that we know absolutely nothing about the animal life at that time on that particular continent. It's hard to survey prehistoric remains when most are situated under two miles of solid ice. We can assume that at the time of the separation of the supercontinent eighty million years ago, that a mass abundance of animal life went with Antarctica when she decided to head south. From the time frame we can almost guarantee”—he almost looked sad upon delivering the news—“that if Mr. Everett survived the wormhole transit he would be faced with unknown and terrifying animal life of that time.”

“Humanoid factors?” asked Dr. Dwayne Anderson of the anthropology department.

“Unknown. Europa has not come across any evidence on the current fossil record from the region. Again, two miles of ice is a deterrent to discovery. Europa has made an ‘educated guess' as to the migratory pattern of early man and the odds are that Mr. Everett will more than likely run into humanoid life. What kind? We can't say.”

“You have Europa making guesses?” Jack asked as he tried to keep his worrying mind from thinking about what Sarah was up to.

“Her educated guesses are like those of Mr. Spock, she's usually never wrong.”

“Doctor, go ahead and give them the good geological news,” Ellenshaw said as he pushed his own written reports aside.

Everyone in the room watched Charlie for a brief moment. He had been acting strange since the loss of Pete Golding. It was as if the good humor had gone from the man and he was no longer the easygoing and friendly crazy Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III.

“The use of the words ‘good geological news' was obviously an attempt by Professor Ellenshaw to lessen the dangers to anyone on that continent at that particular time,” Morales said as he sat in his old-fashioned wheelchair in Nevada.

BOOK: The Traveler
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