The agents waiting near the road responded instantly. They concentrated a volley of shots on the gunner and the car, and suddenly the Uzi went silent. I raised my head to look for Phil's gun and saw the car start to move forward. Another burst of gunfire took out the car’s tires and killed its engine, bringing it to a halt. The agents in front of me were on their feet at once, some of them rushing up the hill to the car.
Three men, one clutching his side, climbed out of the car with their hands over their heads. When an agent opened the back passenger door, the gunner fell out and landed face down in the grass. He wouldn’t be doing any more shooting.
I looked around for Bednarik and Gardner’s decoys. They were both on their backs, covered with blood. Apparently they had still been standing, and the gunner had hit both of them more than once before he was silenced. One of the agents was checking them for signs of life, but even I could tell they were gone.
I spotted Phil’s gun and scrambled to my feet. Picking it up, I shoved it back into my waistband. Scanning the area for more trouble, I caught a movement near the shore. Two men wearing black were running toward the road fifty yards further down from us. They had to be Gardner and Bednarik. I took off after them and shouted to the agents, “That’s them!” I had almost caught up with them when they reached the road. Bednarik hesitated, but Gardner plunged into traffic. I watched in amazement as he somehow avoided being rundown and vaulted over the median guardrails into the southbound lanes.
Bednarik wasn’t so lucky. Almost as if he didn’t care, he stepped out in traffic and a car hit him. He crumpled against the front of the car and slid to the pavement as the driver stood on his brakes and shuddered to a halt. The car behind him didn’t stop as fast, and the chain reaction collisions brought traffic to a standstill.
I had watched in horror as Bednarik was hit and lost track of Gardner. When I looked up, he was running down the entrance road toward the marina parking lot. Somehow he had gotten across the other lanes without being hit. By damn, I told myself, he isn’t getting away.
I ran up to Bednarik and checked for a pulse. I couldn’t find one. I started dragging him to the side of the parkway. Two FBI agents caught up just as there was a break in traffic on the southbound side. The FBI could handle Bednarik. “You guys take care of him. I’ve got Gardner.”
I raced across the now empty lanes, jumped the guardrail, and started running flat out down the road to the parking lot. Ahead, Gardner ran around a car that was blocking the intersection of the one way exit road and the entrance road. A man with FBI emblazoned on across the back of his bullet proof vest, opened the driver’s door and stepped out to stare at the running figure. He clearly hadn’t recognized Gardner because he didn’t give chase, but he looked puzzled, like he knew something odd was going on.
I yelled at the agent as I ran by. “That was Gardner.” When I glanced back, he was getting back in the car.
Gardner and Bednarik had obviously planned the diversion with the two patsies, so they must have a car nearby. The marina parking lot was a logical choice. I reached the lot and stopped to look both ways. The cold weather and the dark took most of the charm out of boating, so there weren’t many cars in the lot. I spotted Bednarik’s Boxster as Gardner jumped in it and closed the door. I took a quick look back up the main road long enough to see that the agent with the car was driving down it. I thought, Damn. He’s left the one way road open. Gardner can get out. I sprinted for Bednarik’s car.
Its lights came on, and it backed out of the parking place. He was getting away. There was no way I get there in time to stop him. Two things occurred to me: heading him off on the exit road and using Phil’s gun. Then I saw the car wasn’t turning for the exit road. It was turning toward me and accelerating. My God, he’s trying to run me down. I stopped immediately and clawed Phil’s pistol out of my waist band. Using a two handed grip, I aimed at the driver side of the windshield. The car continued to accelerate. I had no time to spare. I lowered my aim to the front right tire and squeezed off a round.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The tire blew and the car swerved to my left but not enough to miss me. I dove for my life and felt the wind just as the car rushed past me. Rolling over I looked back in time to see it clip the rear bumper of a parked pickup. The Boxster slewed around and hit something on the pavement – I don’t know what. It rolled over – twice – and slid to a stop upside down. As the car came out of the first roll over, the top tore loose from the crushed windshield frame, and Gardner flew out of the car. He landed in a scramble of arms and legs a good ten feet from where the car came to rest.
The FBI car skidded to a stop almost on top of Gardner. I scrambled to my feet and ran over to see if I could help. When I reached Gardner, it wasn’t a pretty sight. A soft top isn’t much protection in a rollover, especially if you’re not wearing a seatbelt.
◆◆◆
Day 17, 6:55PM
I rode to the designated lot with one of the FBI teams. Two police cars and Phil's SUV were already there by the time we arrived. Phil was standing beside the SUV, and a police sergeant in full police uniform, was standing with him. As I walked over, the cop offered his hand to Phil. “Great job today. That took guts.”
Phil smiled. “That’s nothing.” He nodded in my direction. “It was her second time today.”
The cop swung around to look in my direction. “You’re the one from the Metro. Are you lucky or just that good?”
“A little of both.” I laughed for the first time in what seemed like weeks and it felt good. “Mostly lucky.”
I was a little reluctant to pull out Phil’s gun while standing next to an armed cop. I ahemmed and said, “Phil, thanks for use of your gun. Unfortunately, I had to use it.” I reached behind my back and lifted it out of my waistband with my fingertips. I popped the magazine out and cleared the chamber before I handed it to him. Maybe that was excessive, but better safe …. “I’ll put the vest on the back seat.”
While I was putting the vest away and checking on Lacey, Agent Grady drove up and joined us. Without any preliminaries he said, “We found Gardner’s car in the yacht basin parking lot. He must have used Bednarik’s Porsche because he got to it first.” He looked directly at me. “From what you told me about Gardner and his problems, I suspect somebody who knew that a hit squad was looking for Gardner saw his car and called them for a reward.” He stuck out his hand. “It was a good thing Phil insisted on having you there for the arrest. Your warning when the hit men showed up saved lives. Thank you.”
I shook his hand and nodded. “You’re welcome” just didn’t seem appropriate.
He continued, “Let’s get the debriefing out of the way so you can all go home.”
Surprisingly, the debriefing was over in ten minutes. Grady closed his notebook. “That’s all for now. You should get your little girl home.” I glanced at Lacey and suppressed a laugh as she bit her tongue to keep from reacting to the “little girl” description.
At that point I suddenly realized I needed a way to get home since I had no money and no ID. Phil had been a lifesaver, but he needed to get Lacey home. I looked at the assembled police and FBI. “Can any of you get me home? I live in Reston.”
I saw the questioning looks, but before I could explain, Phil stepped in. “When she was kidnapped last night, they took everything.”
Grady surprised me. “If you’ll hang on for a minute, I’ll call this in, and Doug and I can take you home.”
On the way I had to deal with the possibility that someone could have stolen my money, credit cards, and identification. How complicated would it be to get a new ID when I didn’t have anything to identify myself? I knew my finger prints were on file, so I could eventually get it done, but what could I do in the meantime? When I brought it up, Doug pointed out that my driver’s license was on record and the DMV could issue a new one.
When we got to the condo, Grady and Doug stopped at my car. They waited for me to check it out. It was locked
, and both seats were empty. I felt sick. I had hoped no one would walk off with them. It couldn’t just be easy. Now what? I thought.
They insisted on driving me to the entrance to the condo and dropped me off with “Best of luck.” I thanked them profusely and took the stairs to the second floor. Lacking my keys, I decided to try the door to my apartment anyway. It opened. Kitt must be home, I thought. I heard rustling from the kitchen. “Kitt, is that you?”
A tall figure stepped out of the kitchen, back lit so I couldn’t see him clearly. My heart thudded, and I gasped out loud. As he approached, terror raced through me. It had been that kind of day. Then I heard a familiar voice say “Sam,” and my knees almost buckled.
Troy raced down the hall and swept me up in his arms. “You’re okay. My God, what happened?”
All the day’s tensions flooded out of me, and I started bawling. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me to the couch. He cradled me while I cried myself out.
Kitt came running out of her bedroom while I was still crying. When I finally wound down, she unraveled, talking so fast I could barely keep up with her. “Girl, what happened to you? When you didn’t come home last night, I started worrying that something really bad had happened to you. Then I saw your car and found all your stuff in it. That wasn’t right, so it had to be really drastic. I called the police, and they sent out an investigator. Of course, that meant I had to wait before I left for work, so I called Colonel Harrington to let her know I would be late. The cop brought this god-awful, long report to fill out. I didn’t realize how little I know about you until I started trying to answer those questions. He had the precinct send a team to check your car for evidence. When they left, I brought all your stuff in and locked your car. I’m not sure how much good locking that machine would do. Later this morning I got a call that you were in FBI custody, but no one would answer any of my questions. I heard about two explosions today, and with your track record lately I got a nasty feeling. Were you involved in those?”
Something about her outburst struck me as funny, and I started laughing hysterically. When I was finally able to stop, I sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. “Sorry. God, I’m glad to see you guys.” I looked Troy in the face. “Especially you.” I kissed him passionately. It was great to be back in his arms. I could almost forget what I had just been through. “Boy, have I missed you.” Then the full impact of his presence made me pull back. “Wait a minute. What are you doing here?”
He looked a little impish. “I tried to call you last night from Denver International to tell you, but you weren’t here. The Feds sent us home from the safe house yesterday. With all the uproar over Reid’s portal, they must have figured none of what we were doing was worth hiding and decided we didn’t need protecting anymore. Anyway, your computer was on and Kitt answered. I was so excited to tell you about it, I almost didn’t understand when Kitt told me you weren’t home and she was worried about you. When I realized what she was saying, she was so convincing I got worried too. I switched my flight from Phoenix and caught a redeye to Dulles.”
“So you were going home instead of straight here?” I teased.
“Well, I …”
I put an index finger to his lips and glanced at both Kitt and him. “I suppose you want to know what happened to me.”
Kitt was emphatic. “Absolutely. I don’t want to lose my clearance because I room with a felon.”
I gave a short laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that.” I forced myself to speak calmly and told my story again.
Epilogue
Rebecca Williams guest hosting on Channel 15: “Dr. Friedlund, could you explain to us how you plan to safely test making a connection between your universe and ours?”
Friedlund: “In simple words, we will be making the connection in a vacuum and then allowing a small amount of air into the chamber on each side. As long as there is no reaction, we’ll increase the amount of air across the interface until we reach normal pressure on each side. Then we’ll pass a small solid object through from each side and run a mass spectroscopic analysis of each object. If we don’t encounter any anomalies, we will feel confident it is safe to open a full-sized interface.”
Rebecca: “What if there is some form of reaction?”
Friedlund: “We’ll shut down immediately.”
Rebecca: “What if the reaction itself holds the interface open and the reaction continues?”
Friedlund: “That should never happen.”
Rebecca: “But if it does?”
Friedlund: “Then I suppose the reaction would eventually consume both universes.”
– Channel 15 News
Day 31, 6:30AM
Several days later I stood looking out a slotted window in a concrete bunker somewhere in the Nevada desert. The government had given us access to the building but wouldn’t answer any questions about it other than it was in a zone with a safe radiation level. Rebecca Williams stood next to me holding a microphone and staring at the same bleak scene. Melissa Kim and Greg Masterson stood on either side of us, and Troy Santori sat in front of a bank of monitors on a table beneath the window. From the far left side of the bunker Rebecca’s cameraman operated a camera focused on us.
A small gasoline generator purred in the TV van parked behind the bunker, powering the computers, monitors, cameras, and recorders that filled much of the space. The image in the central monitor showed a larger generator and a teleportal torus almost a mile away. The torus hung in a clear plastic dome resting on the ground with a complex of wires and tubing running from it. A red flag on a pole nearby flapped in the light breeze warning chance passersby away.
Using binoculars to look out the slot, I could barely see the flag above the small ridge that stood between us and the torus. I did a final recheck of all the monitors. Every readout was nominal. The video monitors, including one displaying the view from a camera drone, showed nothing moving in the desert that surrounded us. Air traffic control reported no air traffic anywhere near. I glanced at the members of the group. “Take seats everybody. All systems are go,” I said and sat down next to Troy.
I glanced at the ring on my left ring finger. The diamond sparkled brilliantly in the early morning sun. I took Troy’s hand.
Troy looked into the primary camera that was monitoring us. Without preamble he said, “We are now ready to test opening the connection to the Alternate’s universe. The dome holding the portal has been pumped down as near as possible to a complete vacuum and sealed off.” He glanced at the Alternate team in their monitor. “Dr. Friedlund, are you ready?”
The Alternate team looked buoyant, as if they expected no problems. I hoped they were right. “We’re ready,” Friedlund said. “Let’s do this.”
Troy leaned over and kissed me. Then he turned back to the control computer. He squeezed my hand. “Opening the interface …”
◆◆◆ 30 ◆◆◆
Okay. There you have it. If you liked this book, please show your appreciation by leaving a brief review on Amazon. It will help others find stories they might love and helps Gordon find readers he might not otherwise. Speaking for Gordon, thanks ahead of time for your support. It means everything!
– Samantha
Keep reading for an excerpt of PEACEMAKER.
Excerpt from PEACMAKER
The Corona Rebellion 2564 AD
Commander William August Colt looked across the tarmac at his next assignment. He had known what to expect, but even so, she was incredible. The Invincible was the latest carrier to join the fleet and also the largest. At nearly 350 meters in length she dwarfed most ships of the line and even from the guard shack her size was awe inspiring. She was currently wearing light and dark gray with black lettering, her peace mission colors. Her aft launch door was down as a ramp, and workers and vehicles streamed in and out loading supplies.
“Your gear is unloaded, sir. Have a safe tour.”
Colt returned the salute. “Thank you, Petty Offi
cer Estrada.” He caught a fleeting smile before she turned. He sighed briefly and reached down to pick up the steering handle of his footlocker. A blaster bolt rasped past his ear, singeing his hair and throwing a fiery plume of dust and dirt in the air a few meters away. He reacted immediately, diving for the only cover available, a small drainage ditch between the parking spaces and the guard fence. Almost before he hit the ground another bolt took a notch out of the parking bumper along the ditch. Pieces of hot concrete showered down on him.
He raised his head to trace the bolt back from where he had been standing and caught a glimpse of movement on top of one of the buildings. He rolled out of the way as a third bolt shattered the bumper. A voice behind him shouted, “Keep down, Commander. I’ll be there in a second.” He turned his head to look back. Through the dust and falling debris he saw the gate guard, a burly marine, running toward him, with an M44 blast rifle in his hands.
“On top of the hangar at your ten o’clock,” Colt shouted.
The guard swung around to face the hangar as another bolt sprayed harmlessly off his deflector shield. He aimed his rifle and then hesitated, “Damn. He ducked behind the crown of the roof.” He activated his communicator. “Dispatch, there's a dropper on top of hangar 42A. See if you can pick him up on motion sensor or video and get a team after him. He's armed with a hand blaster.”
The guard listened for a moment. “That's right. He took a couple of shots at Commander Colt. He must have been listening when the main gate called him in.”
Colt raised his head to take another look. The rooftop was clear, but the guard signaled him to stay down. Finally, the guard said, “The shooter seems to be gone.” He slung his rifle and walked over.
Damage Control Page 30
