After much delay, here is the second part of the Bright Lights series. Though promised a lot sooner, I couldn't find the time to get it up till now. I hope to be a bit more on schedule with the remainder of the parts including the continuance of it.
And in trying to make up for lost time (like you didn't notice if you read Wichi) I plan on putting up more of it in a shorter time span. (I think I owe about 4 more Parts to get caught up)
For now, enjoy Part II.
BRIGHT LIGHTS: PART II
TWO WEEKS LATER
"'Morning", the chief said to the assembled group in the shift room.
"Before we go any further, you have all been selected for a special assignment. Anything said inside this room, or about the assignment, must be kept to yourselves. If you don't feel that you can keep this information a secret, let Detective Frankin, or myself, know NOW, so we can get a replacement in here."
The Chief waited for a few seconds for this to soak in then said, "No takers, good."
"Frankin will be in charge of this assignment, you will report directly to her as the Lead. Until this is completed, you will be relieved of your regular duties to concentrate on the task at hand. This comes down from the Governors office, with the Mayor giving full cooperation. Take it seriously."
"Frankin", the chief nodded to her, and left the room.
"To begin with, to be comfortable, we will be wearing street clothes."
Frankin lifted a box up and continued, "Next, each of you will carry a hand-held radio. You will not be using your regular radios; these have a closed frequency. We can talk to each other in private."
"I selected you people because of your marksmanship, deductive and athletic skills, driving skills, clean records and ability to keep a lid on your cases and the information you found."
"We will be set up in pairs, with rough terrain vehicles. For the rest of the briefing, we need to go to another location. The pairings, with the vehicles, are on the board."
Frankin moved the front slider of the dry board over to show the pairings; Jimenez was with Whitedove, Jackson was paired with Kowzlowski, Pascal with Kaiser and Frankin matched up with Switt. The vehicles were a Rav 4, a Tundra, a CJ 7 and a Grand Cherokee, respectively.
"Hey, Lead", Pascal continued, "who came up with the pairings and the cars? What if I don't like Kaiser and his smelly lunches in that little Jeep? How about we get the Cherokee?"
"Don't talk to him, and lower the rag top to get plenty of fresh air."
"And I don't care if you like Kaiser or not. There are five women and three men. You were paired up in couples to attract as little attention as possible. Switt's with me because we've worked together before. And she knows how NOT to piss me off."
"And you can't have the Cherokee. It's bought and paid for, by me. The rest of the vehicles came from impound. They have been fitted with antennae for these radios, so don't forget to plug them in."
"So, grab a radio, get your car from out back and lets get on the road. We have some driving to do."
"But where are we driving to?" Whitedove asked.
"Up the mountains, to the hunting lodge." was Frankins answer.
With a puzzled look, they all asked the same question in unison, "The hunting lodge?"
"Yup. The hunting lodge."
The hunting lodge was up in the mountains a way. Not that the mountains were much to begin with. About five miles wide by thirty-five miles long, of elevated, rough terrain, mostly granite, that really couldn't be developed. The area was covered with trees and had a few natural lakes in the depressions there. Beautiful to be in and look at, but only good for camp sites and hunting.
At the turn of the century, there had been a mining operation run by a local family, the Dermotts. They had hoped to find gold, coal, iron, oil, anything of value, but all they ever got out of it was granite. That they sold for headstones and road gravel until another company half a state away was able to out price them. The family shut down the mine and sold the land back to the state to cut their losses.
Frankin thought back to the events two days before, during the trip to the hunting lodge. She was summoned to the Mayor's office for a meeting with the Mayor and the Chief. What she didn't know was, the military would be there as well.
Frankin was introduced to General Corson. A ramrod straight standing man in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and piercing grey eyes that didn't waver. He wasn't dressed in uniform though. He was wearing dark trousers with a casual shirt, shoes made for speed and silence, and a dark grey windbreaker. With no readable expression on his face, he only nodded to acknowledge my introduction.
She was also informed, by the chief, that word came from higher up that she was to cooperate fully with the General on a special assignment. That she came recommended. There was further bureaucratic bull that amounted to not much.
When the chief was done, the mayor wished her luck, shook her hand and sat down.
For the first time since she entered the room General Corson spoke, "You'll be briefed along the way. Follow me." Then he turned on his heal, and started out the door.
Frankin looked at the mayor and the chief. Both men looked at each other and just shrugged.
Frankin had to hustle to catch up with the fast moving phantom moving down the stairs of City Hall. She knew there wouldn't be any talking until they were in a more secure location. He led her out the back way of the building to an unmarked, dark-green sedan. Once inside she hoped to get more information. She was wrong.
In silence the General drove through the city like a native. He eventually aimed the car towards the municipal airport. Once there, he drove past the hangers and other buildings, out to the far end of the runways where a Huey was waiting.
Once at the helicopter, the General turned the car over to an officer in uniform. He climbed into the big chopper, took a seat, and pointed to the seat across from him, indicating it was for her. As she settled in, the General pulled on a flight helmet, and pointed to a similar one above her seat. Once hers was on, he leaned over with a communication cable to link the helmets together. By now the chopper was airborne and heading to the Northeast, gaining altitude.
"We can speak freely now", Corson said, "but, some of your questions will have to wait." Reaching under his seat, Corson brought out an envelope and handed it to Frankin. "Read this. It will keep you occupied while we pick up some supplies."
Frankin opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. The first page on top was a photo. On it was a picture of a huge, orange and black, tiger-striped spider with a large carving knife sticking halfway out of its back. With a smile on her lips, Frankin looked at the General and said, "Nice photo-shop you got there."
The General's eyes showed no glint of humor as he replied, "I took that photo. Read on."
Frankin looked at the sheaf of eyewitness accounts, from the twenty-three staff members at "The Stano's" Banquet Hall, who were on duty the day this photo was taken. She started reading.
Before she finished the accounts, the chopper bumped to a landing. She looked up and Corson said, "Take off the helmet and follow me if she wanted to see something fantastic." So she did.
He led her into a facility she didn't catch the name of, being busy with the files. Inside it looked like some freak beehive. Huge domed pods sat in different areas with cables from overhead attached to them. One cable seemed to go through the top of the pods. It was hot inside the pods too; you could see the heat shimmer radiating from them.
A woman broke away from a group she was with, and greeted them. "Hey General, Johnny is just finishing up polishing the last of your order. It'll only take a minute to finish and check the piece."
"That's fine Jackie, we'll wait", Corson said.
Just then, the machine next to them chimed. The display is showing the end of a task, but the machine is still running. A guy in a lab coat with the name "Johnny" over the pocket, comes running over, bangs on the panel a few times, then grabs the power cable to the device and gives a yank. The plug separates and the machine starts to idle down.
Jackie comes over and asks Johnny if everything is all right. "Oh, lovely!" Johnny retorts. "What's right with this picture! The damn polishing machine still goes berserk and doesn't shut down at the end of the cycle. 90 days until the ISO deadline, and we're still stopping machines by yanking their power supply."
Johnny grabs another load of air and continues, "I'm telling you, it's that 'scrum' type interface. When the OS crashes, this polisher gets weird. What it needs is, a newer computer, or loaded with 'LINUX' so it doesn't crash."
"Well, let's get the part checked. The customer is here for pick up and we don't want to keep them waiting." Jackie said, to get him moving before he can start up again.
Turning to Corson, Jackie apologizes, "Sorry General, it will only take a minute to check the part and get it crated. Then we'll load it up for you."
Johnny pulls a rose-red colored tube of glass from the polisher and heads over to another device. This one equipped with lights, mirrors and what looks like a microscope. Jackie sees the puzzled look on Frankins face, looks at the General, who nods, then explains.
"Johnny is checking the synthetic ruby, actually chromium doped sapphire, for imperfections. That machine he is using to check the part, is a microscopic comparator. If there are no imperfections, it's ready to go."
"In those", Jackie says, pointing to the pods in the facility, "we melt the sapphire to make things like the rod Johnny is checking. On the end of the leaders going into those ovens, is a little 'seed' that the melted sapphire adheres to and takes the molecular structure of the 'seed'. With the engineered 'seed', we can 'grow' what we need from the sapphire."
Pointing at the rod Johnny was checking, Jackie continues, "That particular piece was tricky. It is a solid rod on one end, and a hollow tube on the other. We used the Inventink Division of Symmetrically Incorporated to engineer the process. We grow the solid part first, then stick the hollow tube 'seed' to the base of the rod on the outside. The 'seed' distorts the original configuration and starts the second step of the process. After that, it's a case of polishing off the distortions from the outside of the finished part, and checking the inside for a smooth transition. If all is done right, the molecular 'grain' is in line and fluid, resulting in 'zero' distortion to the transmitted spectrum."
Jackie said some other stuff that Frankin didn't catch, or care to for that matter. She was enjoying watching Johnny at this point. So intent on the comparator, yet, sneaking his hand under the plastic overlay to retrieve what looks like Girl Scout cookies, Thin Mints to be exact, and popping them into his mouth. It's nice to see someone enjoy their work.
Johnny at that point, declared the part good, and headed off to get it packed up with the others. Once the crate was sealed, and secured in the chopper, Corson motioned to Frankin, that it was time to go. Once back up in the air, Frankin went back to the files, realizing Corson wasn't going to say any more for the time being. By the time they returned to the mountains, North of the city, Frankin had finished the files and had a lot of questions.
As the chopper was setting down on its skids, Corson said, "I'll answer your questions in my office." Then he took off his helmet and headed for the hunting lodge, while soldiers in uniform unloaded the crate. Once again, Corson got the jump on her, and she had to hurry to catch up. This was starting to piss her off.
She followed him into the lodge, then into one of the offices he now claimed as his own. As she entered, he told her to close the door. He was REALLY getting on her nerves. Just in front of the desk, he turned to face her.
With less than a few feet between them, he looked her right in the eyes and said, "I am not very comfortable with you being involved." The emphasis on the word "you", spoke unwritten volumes to Frankin.
"Really?" Frankin replied, returning a similar attitude.
"Yes. Really!" Corson countered. "But I was told, to have you on board. And, to give a message to 'Snake'."
Frankin closed the gap between them before Corson could blink, and had her hand wrapped around his windpipe, squeezing, with just the right amount of pressure. "One wrong word,...or move,...and you'll be gone before you hit the floor. Explain, 'Snake'", Frankin hissed, with a look in her eyes that would make the devil pause.
Combat experience, training, and maybe a little craziness thrown in, but Corson recovered his composure as quickly as it slipped when she grabbed him. "It's from someone named 'Mongoose'", he croaked.
Frankin released him, "OK. What is it?"
"First, prove you really are 'Snake'", Corson said, rubbing his neck.
Frankin had her shirt pulled out and her pants opened enough to show the head of a cobra, with flared head, poking up over the top of her underwear. And, she still had that look in her eyes.
"OK, OK. You're 'Snake'. I was told you'd prove it in an unorthodox manner. But I had no idea how unorthodox." Corson turned, and headed behind the desk, as Frankin straightened herself up. Opening a drawer, Corson offered, "Scotch?"
"Yes, thanks. Now what is the message."
"This 'Mongoose' says, 'Next time, shoot straighter'. Don't know what that means, and probably don't want to."
"Now let me fill you in. You know the mine up in the mountains not far from here?" Frankin nodded. "Well the family that owned the mine, dug a hole over sixty yards wide, and over a thousand yards deep, in solid granite. When they sold it back to the state, the state gave it back to the Federal Government in exchange for funds to make this mountain range, such that it is, a federal reserve park. Hunting, fishing and camping, along with a wildlife preserve, for the price of a worthless granite mine."
"To Uncle Sam, that hole was a gold mine. A totally enclosed storage facility for materials not wanted elsewhere. In the '50's and '60's, radioactive waste was put down there. Along with pesticides, and other chemical components, until a way to dispose of them was found. No one noticed, but we kept a presence around it for all these years without tipping our hands."
"So why now, the big show of force up here?" Frankin asked.
"Six months ago, a crew checked on the mine for leakage. They found none. Then. It was discovered, that some of the containers were starting to decay. So, we started working on clearing the stored material out for permanent disposal. Once a plan was worked out, so we could accomplish this without incident, spillage or contact with the residents in the area; we sent a crew out to get the prep work started. That was about three weeks back."
"They didn't report back in as scheduled. We were preparing to come out and investigate when twelve days ago we intercepted a call from "The Stano's", you read the report, about an attack by a giant spider. Bells went off, and we got there first being in the neighborhood, so to speak."
Frankin remembered something about a crank call out there. "The officers said the staff they talked to claimed the call didn't come from there. How was that?"
"We beat the squad car there by ten minutes. We got all the employees in the walk-in and stood in for the staff. It wasn't hard. A kid manager called in, but twelve adults talked to your officers. Convinced them it had to be a prank by some high school kids."
"You saw the pictures of the spider. After it bit the prep/setup lady, one of the cooks knocked it to the floor and hit it with the carving knife in his hands. 190 pound kid, coming down full force, with all his weight, only drove the knife half way through the thing. Turns out the thing has an endoskeleton, just under the skin, that is almost bulletproof. It is a living tissue that grows to accommodate the size of the creature. And, though it is skeletal in nature, it is almost as flexible as the outer skin on these ‘bugs’."
"Think of the ramifications. A living, bulletproof shell, that's flexible, and lightweight. The D.O.D. is already salivating over the idea."
"We brought in an expert entomologist to check this spider out. What we found was, it's a mutant. Imagine our shock. When we rechecked the mine, some of the containers had decayed enough to leak. There is a mix of radioactive material, and chemical wastes down there, that triggered the mutation. Again, big surprise."
"We also found seventeen hatched egg casings. And, the two clean-up crew members, wrapped in silk, stored for dinner."
"The entomologist told us the 'spiders' were hunter/predators, and all male, so there wouldn't be a problem with reproducing. Then the bad news, he said that with them being cold blooded, it might be hard to track them down."
"Well, with them being 'radioactive', it turned out it wasn't too hard to track them. We managed to capture two of them, but it wasn't easy. It takes a high powered AP round to pierce their hides, and that attracts too much attention. That is why we stopped off for those 'rods' on the way up here. We have something special in mind."
"First, let's get some lunch. Then, I'll show you the prize catch. After that, you'll see what the rods are for. They should be ready by that time."
"Lead the way General, this is your show." Frankin decided some food would be better on the stomach than the Scotch at this time of day. Besides, this looked like she might need all of her faculties with this one.
Comments