by David Archer
They got into their cars and left the garage, heading out to R&D. Wally, the mad genius who ran the research and development department, was delighted when they came through the door. He had left standing orders with the front desk to notify him the moment Camelot came in, and he had a comical habit of running down the hall as soon as he got the call.
This day was no exception. His running footsteps could be heard almost half a minute before he came sliding around the corner into the lobby. He hurried up to Noah and shook his hand.
“Noah!” Wally said. “I was beginning to think you forgot where we were. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“That’s because he’s been spending time with me,” Sarah said. “You know, his wife? How have you been, Wally?”
“Doing good, doing good,” he said. “Got some fantastic new toys to show you. Allison told me you’re headed out for a mission, but she didn’t have the details. What are you up to?”
“We’re going to Algeria,” Noah said. “Somebody wants to turn the new president of West Algeria into a martyr, and I guess our president doesn’t want that to happen. Allison said they were expecting to have a little more time to plan for this, but the sudden announcement this morning of West Algeria’s secession from its mother country caught them off guard.”
“Algeria,” Wally said, almost with awe. “Lots of desert there, isn’t there? It’s going to be hot and miserable. Boy, oh boy, have I got some things to show you. Come on, follow me.”
With Wally almost skipping along in front of them, they followed him down one hallway and turned into another. He led them to a particular door and then through it, and they saw a couple of people working over what looked like sewing machines.
“This is something that Dennis, here, came up with,” Wally said, pointing at a young man. “Dennis, I’m going to let you explain it. These folks are Team Camelot, and they’re about to be headed into the desert, so this is perfect timing.”
Dennis grinned and got off the stool he was sitting on, walking over to extend a hand to Noah, and then to each of the others. “I’m delighted to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you.” They all shook hands with him and then followed him to the bench he had been working at.
There was a t-shirt laying on the bench. “This is a new fabric we developed here,” Dennis said. “It’s thin, but has some amazing absorption and evaporation properties that mean it will keep the wearer cool even in the hottest weather. It’s based on work done at Stanford University, but we take that a few steps up the ladder from what they came up with. Basically, what the fabric does is block visible light so that your body won’t absorb heat from the sun, but it also is transparent to infrared light. Now, infrared radiation, or infrared light, is how we lose heat from our bodies. It’s dissipated out into the air as infrared radiation. By being transparent to infrared but opaque to visible light, we managed to release the built-up body heat you’ve already got, while preventing you from gaining more through sunlight. Added to this is a capillary action that actually wicks the moisture when you sweat away from your body, so that it can be released into the air. Drawing that moisture off dissipates even more heat, so that even when the sun is beating down on you and it’s a hundred and fifteen degrees in the desert, just wearing this fabric will make you feel like you’re sitting in air conditioning.”
Noah’s eyebrows actually rose a half-inch. “Is there any kind of limitation on how it can be used? What types of clothing, that sort of thing?”
“Not really a limit,” Dennis said. “As long as it’s dyed in light colors, it should remain pretty effective.”
“I’m thinking of desert clothing. Our mission is going to be into the deserts of Algeria, and we’ll need to fit into the local culture. I’m thinking khakis, long-sleeve shirts, short-sleeved shirts, underclothing. Could several pieces be put together for each of us quickly?”
Wally stepped up. “That would be our costuming department,” he said. “They’ve already got an ample supply of the fabric, Dennis just likes to keep trying to improve it. We’ll talk to Martha down there in costuming in just a bit, I know she’s got all your sizes on file.”
“Excellent,” Noah said. He turned to Dennis and shook his hand again. “Great work, thank you.”
The young man beamed as Noah and the rest of them followed Wally out the door. He turned to the other man in the room, who simply grinned and shook his head.
“He puts his pants on the same way we do, Junior,” the older man said.
Out in the hallway, Wally turned to Noah again. “So, what other kind of things do you think you might need? What about weapons, for instance?”
“I want eight of your smart guns,” Noah said, referring to the little computerized, tripod-mounted, brick-shaped guns that used facial recognition technology to watch for specific targets and then fired with deadly precision. “I want a pair of M107s in fifty caliber, two Miktor MGL grenade launchers with two dozen HE rounds, and five MAC 11s. Give me four loaded magazines for each of the MACs.”
Wally’s eyes were wide. “Holy cow,” he said. “No problem, I just wasn’t expecting you to have a list all ready to go. I’m kind of impressed.”
“Seriously?” Neil asked. “You’re surprised? This is Noah you’re talking to, remember?”
Wally chuckled. “Good point, good point,” he said. “Okay, we’ve got all of that. And, by the way, we’ve made some improvements to the smart guns. They now have built-in sound and flash suppressors, so they’re about as quiet as they can possibly be. Put them in the right locations, and no one will know where the shots came from. What else?”
“A couple of aerial surveillance drones. High-resolution, long-range cameras, drones that can stay up high and out of earshot while still giving me a good look at what’s going on on the ground.”
“Got just the things. Small, quiet, a two hour flight time. Facial recognition follow-me system that can track a person through a crowd. That sort of thing you’re looking for?”
Noah glanced at Neil, who was nodding and smiling. “That’ll work,” he said. “How soon can you have it all ready?”
Wally shrugged. “Let’s go see Martha, first, then work on the rest of it.”
Letting Martha take measurements to make sure they were up-to-date took only a few minutes, and they were assured the clothes would be ready by the following afternoon. When they finished there, Wally took them to the armory and asked one of the technicians to show them the improvements to the smart guns.
“They’re basically the same as they were the last time you used them,” the technician said. “We only added a few little features. You see the sound suppressor, it looks like somebody stuck a big beer can on the end of the gun? It uses a combination of wakes and baffles to muffle the sound.” He picked up one of the guns and aimed it at a target down the range, then pressed the manual fire button. There was a slight phhzt sound, but nothing that any of them would normally associate with the firing of a gun. “One of the things that makes it so quiet is that the ammunition is subsonic. It doesn’t travel quite as fast as the speed of sound, but that also limits its range. While the targeting computer is very precise, the maximum effective range of this gun is only about two hundred yards. Any further than that, and bullet drop is going to start interfering.”
“Okay, I can work with that,” Noah said. “What else is new?”
“Two other little things. We added the ability for the guns to communicate with each other, so they all know which targets are still at large. And they can notify you, via a smartphone app, each time they fire. Each one will tell you when it fired, at which target, and the results of the shot, such as whether the target was hit, or if the target managed to run away. The second feature is an automatic self-destruct. These new models are built on a frame made of magnesium, and we built in an electronic igniter. If it gets the self-destruct signal, which can be through the same app or by setting it to activate at a specific time or after all targets
have been taken out, there won’t be anything left of that gun but slag five minutes later. The circuitry will be melted beyond any possible recognition, the camera will look like a melted decoration of some sort, and any remaining ammunition will have exploded. No one is going to figure out anything other than that it was some kind of a gun at one time or another. Wally wanted that, just because we don’t really want any of our allies or enemies getting their hands on this toy.”
Noah looked at the technician and took out the gun. “Perfect,” he said.
CHAPTER TWO
“Noah,” Jefferson said when they returned for their ID kits, “you’ll be going as James McConnell, and your credentials identify you as having formerly been the commercial attaché at our embassy in Venezuela. Officially, you are there to meet with President Abimbola to discuss the possibility of placing an embassy in Tindouf. Sarah will be Elizabeth Roth, your assistant. Neil, your identity is Garrett Stevens, and you are the IT technician. Jenny, you’ll be going as Neil’s assistant, Connie Marchand. Marco, you are the only one among you who speaks French, which is a common language throughout Algeria, so you will serve as interpreter. You will be Pierre Lafontaine, child of French immigrants to America who grew up in Baton Rouge. That should account for the slightly Cajun accent in your French.”
“Mais, oui,” Marco said. “Y’all do know my French is pretty rusty, right?”
“You’ll get some practice for the next couple of days,” Allison said. “You’re going out to Character Development to work with Lisette Charpentier. She’s our expert on French and French accents. Report to her tomorrow morning at eight a.m.”
“Okay, question,” Jenny said. “While my boyfriend may be a computer genius, I have trouble checking my Facebook on anything but my phone. How am I supposed to pass myself off as his assistant?”
Jefferson chuckled. “Just look at him the way you always do,” he said. “Nobody will expect you to know much about computers, they’ll figure he pulled strings to get you the job.”
Jenny pretended to look shocked, but Allison smiled. “Sadly, he’s right,” she said. “It’s amazing how often a secretary or assistant to someone in foreign service turns out to be nothing more than a secret lover. Just about everyone involved in politics will naturally think that’s what you’re doing there, anyway, so we might as well play on it.”
Jenny closed her mouth and shrugged. “Works for me.”
“Here are your ID kits,” Jefferson said, passing out large envelopes, “along with back stories and target files. Be sure to look over your back stories, so that you can answer questions if you need to. All of the information in the back stories is already included in the files that their intelligence service will receive as part of their due diligence in checking you out, so you might need to prove yourselves a bit. Just don’t let them trip you up; if they ask about a place you wouldn’t know, don’t try to fake it. The Algerians learned a lot from the French, whose idea of espionage is to always try to force the other fellow into a mistake.”
Noah was looking through the wallet and papers he had been handed. “All right,” he said. “When do we leave?”
“Six p.m.,” Allison said, “the day after tomorrow. That gives Marco two days to work on his French with Lisette. He’ll be your interpreter when you need one, because just about everyone over there speaks French, even though Arabic and Berber are the official languages. Anyone you’ll need to speak to in the government will understand and speak fluent French.”
“Our clothes will be ready tomorrow evening,” Noah said. “Since we’re traveling on a diplomatic flight, Wally is sending our weapons along with us. Do we anticipate any problems at Tindouf?”
“No,” Jefferson replied. “Abimbola knows and respects our Algerian ambassador, Daniel Ford. Daniel spoke with him by telephone a few hours after the broadcast this morning, and received assurance that you will be treated as a diplomatic envoy of the United States. That was last night, to them, but our State Department will also be speaking with Abimbola this evening, during his morning. They’ll make certain of your diplomatic status.”
“Then I guess we’re all set,” Noah said. “Is there anything you want the rest of us to do while Marco is taking French lessons?”
“Just study your back stories,” Allison said, “and the list of diplomatic concessions you’re going to ask for. You probably will only have a couple of hours with Abimbola, so it shouldn’t interfere greatly with your actual mission. Pay close attention to the list, because there are a few concessions we actually want in the event this secession doesn’t fail. Mostly just access to a few hundred acres of desert, a strategic place for a drone base. We’ve already got one in southern Algeria, but another in Tindouf province would be beneficial. The State Department said to make sure we get that locked in before you make any other agreements.”
Noah nodded. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Yes, before I forget,” Jefferson said. “The cell phones in your kits are satellite phones. They won’t look out of place, because almost every diplomat in that region carries one. That’s because they don’t have nearly as many cell towers as they need, so a direct connection to satellite is necessary. The reason I’m pointing it out to you is because you will need them if you need to communicate while you’re in the desert. You’ll also find in each of them a contact identified as Prudence Mays. Prudence is the CIA station chief in Tindouf. Her cover is manager of a charitable organization that works with the Sahrawi refugees; that will come in handy, because she can move through the refugee camps without anyone paying much attention to her, or anyone with her. CIA simply asks that we try not to out her, because she’s invaluable over there.”
“We’ll remember that,” Noah said. “For now, I think we’re all going to go and get some dinner. Would you care to join us?”
Both Allison and Donald Jefferson seemed surprised at the invitation. “Where have you got in mind?” Allison asked.
“We’re going out to the Sagebrush Saloon,” Sarah said. “Kind of our favorite watering hole, and they know us well enough to always give us a table off to ourselves.”
“Sure, I’ll go,” Allison said. “Donald?”
“I hate to do it,” Jefferson said, “but I’ll need to take a rain check. I’ve got a little bit of paperwork I want to finish in my office, and then I promised my wife and daughter I’d come home at a reasonable hour tonight. It’s my wife’s birthday, and we’re celebrating at home. I’d love to come another time, though.”
“We understand,” Sarah said. “Tell her I said happy birthday, okay? And tell Elaine that we miss her.”
Jefferson smiled softly. “I sure will,” he said.
“Can you kids give me ten minutes before we go?” Allison asked. “I need to finish up a couple things myself, just so I can pretend to earn my paycheck.”
“Sure,” Sarah said, and Jenny echoed her. “We’ll wait in your lobby. By the way, who’s the new secretary?”
“Hell, I can’t remember her name,” Allison said. “We rotate them through a pool, now, because we found out that blasted Monique actually had my secretary spying on me. As it stands now, not even I know who will be on duty from day-to-day. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen the same girl twice in the last month.”
“That’s one way to keep everybody confused,” Marco said.
“Sure does keep me confused,” Allison said. “On the other hand, none of the girls in the pool are ever likely to overhear anything critical, and probably wouldn’t recognize it if they did. it’s really not that bad an idea, and I’m grateful to Donald for thinking of it.”
Noah, Sarah, Neil, Jenny, and Marco all walked out of the office and settled into the chairs around the lobby. The current secretary, a middle-aged brunette, just smiled at them and said nothing.
Marco couldn’t leave it at that. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “Allison was just telling us that you secretaries are all on some kind of rotation, now?�
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The woman smiled at him again. “Yes,” she said. “It’s a security precaution.”
“Okay, yeah,” Marco said. “Only I’m just wondering, is it confusing when you come up here for the first time? I mean, how do you know what to do?”
She reached into the upper right drawer of her desk and picked up a small ring binder. “Orders of the day,” he said. “We are told to check this book before doing anything else. It tells us where the appointment calendars are, what the computer password of the day is, who sits in what office on this floor and what their telephone extensions are. Pretty much everything we need to know is in this book.” She dropped it back into the drawer and shut it.
“Well, now, ain’t that a thing,” Marco said. “Makes sense to me, I guess.”
“Even better than that,” the secretary said, “it makes sense to us. Imagine what a nightmare this would be if it didn’t.”
“That’s a good point. Has anyone ever gotten it confused up here?”
She looked at him askance. “Do you think they would admit it if they had? I know I wouldn’t. Far as anybody downstairs needs to know, I aced it up here today. And since it will be at least two months before I ever sit in this chair again, who’s going to argue the point?”
“Marco, you might want to stop,” Neil said. “I’m pretty sure she’s smarter than you are, and it’s starting to show.”
Marco gave him a dirty look, but sat back in his chair and was quiet.
Allison came out a few minutes later, and they all went down the elevator together. Neil offered to let her ride with him and Jenny, but she insisted on taking her own car. They made their usual little convoy, with Noah’s Corvette out front, Neil’s Hummer behind him, Marco’s Chevelle on his tail, and Allison’s Cadillac bringing up the rear. Marco called Renée, who promised to meet them there.
There was a bit of construction on the road to the Sagebrush Saloon, so the drive took almost an hour. By the time they got there, it was nearly six o’clock. Renée had already arrived, so they waited until everyone was parked and all walked in together.
