The Quisling Covenant

by Jerry Ahern

  Twenty minutes later Paul eyed the familiar landmarks. “We’re here.” The guys looked around confused.

  “Where? I don’t see anything,” Timothy finally said.

  Paul laughed, “That’s what I said the first time your dad brought me here. He told me, ‘You’re not supposed to see anything.’ Come over here.” They were about halfway up the mountainside; he walked to a large boulder on the right and pushed against it with his hands. The boulder rolled away; he walked to his far left where a similar but squared-off rock butted against the granite face.

  “Watch,” Paul said pushing on it. “John did a lot of research in archeology to come up with this system.” He braced himself against the rock and pushed it aside. There was rumbling in the rock itself; the boys drew back. The rock on which Paul stood began to sink and, as it did, a slab of rock about the size of a single-car-garage door began to slide inward. “John said it’s just weights and counterbalances. If you want to open from inside, levers perform the same function as moving the rocks out here.”

  The boys leaned forward, trying to see into the open doorway and the darkness beyond. “Come on,” Paul said, walking into the darkness. “Tim, there’s a red handled lever in there, by the light switch. Swing it down and lock it under the notch.”

  “Got it.”

  Paul bent down and rolled the two rock counterbalances into position, then stepped into the cave. He bent to the red handled lever, loosed it safely from the notch and raised it; the granite doorway started to move, the rock beneath them shuddering audibly. He flipped a hidden switch and light filled the area. Electricity, thanks to the stream, Paul thought. Before them stood steel double doors at the far end of the antechamber. Paul walked to the steel doors and began spinning a combination dial. He then pushed the lever-shaped handles; the doors swung open.

  “Tim,” Paul said, walking into the darkness, “kill that light switch for red back there, okay?” Ten seconds later he whispered, “Now,” and hit the light switch.

  “Wow!” John Michael whispered as Paul smiled and stepped down into the great room.

  “Just like we left it,” Paul said as he looked around. “That is a good thing. Come on.” The boys were as quiet as if they were in church. There was a natural rock wall separating the chamber they were in from the main cavern and there were rows upon rows of shelves on it, stacked floor to ceiling and several large ladders.

  Pointing, Paul said, “Over there is spare ammunition plus some reloading components. Over there is food, whiskey, whatever. Over there is toilet paper, paper towels, bath soap, shampoo and conditioner, candles, light bulbs—sixties, hundreds, fluorescent tubes—light switches, screws, nails, bolts, nuts, washers. Chain saws and hand saws. Over there is the main supply of ammunition.” There were spaces for .22 Long Rifle, .38 Special, .357 Magnum, 9mm, .44 Magnum, and .45 ACP, then the rifle cartridges .223 and .308, then 12-gauge shotgun shells, double 0 buck and rifled slugs. “John told me, ‘mostly two and three-quarter-inch because it works in the three-inch Magnums, but not vice-versa. ’”

  Paul showed them row upon row of Mountain House foods in large containers and small packages, ordinary canned goods and other food supplies, then stacks of white boot socks, underpants, and handkerchiefs. A large bin at one end of the shelving area held holsters, slings, and various other leather goods. Beyond this was a shelf filled with a dozen pair of black GI combat boots, and beside them a half dozen pairs of rubber thongs.

  He pointed out a truck. “It’s a Ford, four-wheel-drive pickup; John converted it to run off pure ethyl alcohol. There’s a distillery for it set up on the far side over there.” Paul walked back to the end of the shelf row and hit one switch and the side cavern behind them went dark. He hit a second switch and the darkened smaller chamber ahead of them illuminated. “Work room,” and pointed along the walls and down a row of long tables. Vises, reloading equipment, power saws, drill press; then, ranked on shelves above these were oil filters, spark plugs, fan belts—tools hung on pegboard wall panels beyond them.

  The complete tour took over two hours with explanations; and, in some cases, demonstrations. Finally Paul said, “Okay, we sleep here tonight. Let’s get some grub and showers. Tomorrow we have a full day. It won’t be a problem to find the equipment but I want to run some checks to be sure it still works and it will probably take a couple of loads to get it all.” The boys haven ’t said five words between themselves since the tour started, Paul thought. He remembered his first exposure to the Retreat, and smiled. The boys sat up all night, Paul could hear them talking but couldn’t make out the conversations.

  The next morning he was up before them and had breakfast ready when they finally rolled out of bed. John Paul was the first to get up, “Uncle Paul, we talked last night and I’ve got a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “The Retreat, Uncle Paul,” he said with a hesitation. “It seems smaller somehow than any of us remember. I mean it is still impressive but are we all nuts or did it shrink somehow?”

  Paul laughed, “You are too much like your grandfather and nothing gets passed you.” At that time the other two came in. Paul said, “Listen you guys, it didn’t shrink... you got bigger. Come over here and take a look.” The boys followed, “John made these marks on the wall the last time all three of you were here together. They show how tall each of you were then.”

  “Man, we were little. I didn’t think it was that long ago,” John Michael said.

  Paul smiled, “It’s only been a few years guys but each of you has definitely grown. Now get over there and finish your breakfast. We have work to do and...” Shifting into what could only be called a Jewish imitation of John Wayne, Paul said, “… we’re burnin’ daylight.”

  It took two days before “the crew,” as the boys referred to themselves, landed back in Honolulu. With them were four large cases including a microfiche reader, a word processor that read floppy disks, an ancient slide projector, a reel-to-reel tape recorder and some assorted other devices; and, a very exhausted Paul Rubenstein in tow. Paul called John Rourke, “Okay, we’re home. Yeah, the guys had a great time. I can’t be sure but I think we have everything you will need.”

  “Excellent,” John said. “Get with Randall Walls this evening; I want you guys to start watching the area now for those patterns. Mission goes in three days.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  At Sanderson’s insistence, John was back at the Dog Soldier’s training site. “Thought you might like to watch this John.” Sanderson led the way to the base of the cliff which was several hundred feet high. Rourke could see lines of rope descending from the top with men sliding down on harnesses. Calls of “On Repel” were followed by answers of “On Belay.” Sanderson turned off the ATV and they watched as the clone warriors descended over 200 feet down the cliff face. A scream cut the morning stillness. Rourke watched helplessly as one warrior apparently lost footing at the crest of the descent. The man slid straight down the rope with both hands maintaining a death grip on that life-line; it appeared his foot hit an outcropping that flipped him inverted. The thump of his head hitting against the rock face was audible; he slammed into the next man below him on the rope knocking him loose and sending both tumbling toward the rocky base of the cliff, both slamming several times into the rock face.

  Below, Sanderson’s Special Operator, the belay man for that rope, had instantly thrown his entire body weight on the rope, pulling it taut. Even with his fast reaction, it was still just yards short of impact before the two men on the rope stopped their deadly slide.

  An eerie quiet settled over the scene only to be interrupted by a bull horn that ordered, “Lock it up in place!” Several other operators on the ground as observers ran to the effected line and movement ceased on the other lines; belay men below dropped their weight against the lines. Slowly, the two injured men were lowered to the ground, bloodied and unconscious; Rourke, Sanderson and a Medic ran over. The men were lowered to the ground slowly, the Loc
king D rings and Figure eight devices were removed, and they were stretched as flat and gently as possible on the ground. The Medic arrived first and did a quick assessment.

  Slowly he turned to Sanderson, “These two are done for right now.” Slowly one man regained consciousness but the other lay still and unmoving. “Williams is out, we need to get him to the hospital; his helmet is cracked and he’s bleeding from the scalp, ears and nose. He has at least a concussion, maybe a skull fracture or worse,” the Medic said. “A compound fracture of the right forearm on Billings here. Give me a minute or two and get the ambulance up here.”

  While two of the Spec Ops personnel worked on Billings to secure his arm, the Medic placed a cervical collar on Williams. Rourke and Sanderson helped keep his spine and neck straight as the unconscious man was rolled up slightly on one side to allow a back board to be slid under him. Velcro straps were adjusted to hold his head and body in position for transport just as the ambulance dry skidded to a halt near them. “I’ll ride in the bus with him, bring Billings on the next one,” the Medic said. “I’ve got to get X-rays on both men before I can give you a report.”

  On top of the cliff face the remaining Dog Soldiers stood, knelt, or laid flat looking down over the edge at the tabloid of events playing out below them; wondering if the men had survived and thankful they had not been the ones who fell. Conversation was in hushed tones and concern for their comrades was evident on their faces. That is except in the face of one; no one noticed the slight smile twisting his lips as he stood and walked away from the edge to stand alone.

  That was simple enough, he thought.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Sanderson and Rourke were sitting in the waiting area when the doctor came out of x-ray. He called them into a consultation room and placed the two sets of x-rays on the lighted viewing panels. Quietly he studied both, shook his head and turned to Sanderson, “Chief, you’re going to be down two men for some time. Billings I’m not too worried about—fracture of the radius and the ulna. The radial break is a compound. We won’t know anything until I have it repaired; if there is no nerve damage resulting from the bone ripping through the muscles and nerves, he’ll be okay in a few weeks. If there’s nerve damage... well, I just don’t know yet.”

  “What about Williams?” Sanderson asked.

  “He’s going to be down for some time. Take a look,” the doctor said, pointing at one set of x-rays. “Cervical fracture on two vertebrae, plus a skull fracture here. Of the two, it’s the cervical fractures I’m most concerned about; it is possible the spinal cord is compromised. Both men are being prepped for surgery as we speak. I’ll let you know something as soon as we can get inside and take a look.” The doctor turned and headed out to scrub up.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Dr. Karen Cummings, taller than most women, a little over 5 feet 9 inches, was slender though not skinny and carried herself with confidence and bearing. President Michael Rourke had tasked her with the responsibility of setting up the meeting. At the conference table sat several high ranking military officers and a smattering of scientists. The President, John Rourke, Wes Sanderson, and Akiro Kuriname were there. She approached the conference table and waited. As the attendees settled down she said, “Hello, I’m Dr. Karen Cummings. My Ph.D. is in ice age studies, which means I have studied climate change in order to explain the colossal coming and going of ice ages. There are several methods and ingenious techniques to recover evidence from the distant past; first from deposits left on land, then from sea floor sediments and then still better by drilling deep into ice.”

  Rourke smiled. “I guess you could be called an ‘iceologist?’”

  Dr. Cummings flashed a fetching smile. “Yes, I guess you could call it that. My second Ph.D. is as a paleoclimatologist and that deals with the strangely regular pattern of glacial cycles. The timing of the cycles is set by minor changes in sunlight caused by slow variations of the earth’s orbit. Just how that could regulate the ice ages remains uncertain; the climate system turned out to be dauntingly complex. While it is accepted that ‘greenhouse’ gases, like carbon dioxide, played a surprisingly powerful role in governing global climate, it was not the only consideration. Our climate system is actually rather delicately poised, so that a little stimulus might drive a great change. The use of satellites to monitor the ice at the earth’s poles has enabled us to better understand changes in our climate. Now, if you would, I’d like each of you to identify yourself and your specialty as it relates to this meeting.”

  The introductions took only about five minutes and Dr. Cummings resumed. “Thank you. Now, I compare data from satellites with measurements collected on and inside the ice. Doing experiments in the extreme conditions found on glaciers presents unique problems: equipment failure of generators and radar equipment one of the first. Even getting to the ice can be tough. The area you’re talking about routinely has storms with thirty-five mile per hour winds that can be sustained at sixty miles per hour for days at a time.”

  The next speaker to stand and explain his expertise was the director of the Center for Snow and Avalanche Studies, Frank O’Conner. “At the Center, we study avalanches, what causes them, how to survive being caught in one; and how, if necessary, to create a manmade avalanche.”

  “I thought it was just when snow and ice dislodged from the side of a mountain and careened down the slope,” Rourke said.

  “In the basic application you are correct. Normally an avalanche occurs when the snow-packed layers of accumulated snow on the side of a mountain are in some way disturbed, leading to a fracturing of the top layer and a downward torrent of a large mass of the white stuff.”

  One of the military officers asked, “What sets off the disturbance?”

  “A number of factors can set off a disturbance,” O’Conner said. “They include natural factors like new precipitation, which could be rain or additional snow, a sudden warming, wind, ice fall or rock fall, as well as so-called artificial factors like skiers and snowmobilers. The long-held notion that avalanches can be triggered by the human voice has been largely debunked. Our studies show that ninety percent of avalanche fatalities are triggered by the weight of one of the victims in the group. In other words, the pressure exerted by human movement caused a fracture in the snowpack, loosening the top layer and unleashing a torrent of snow. Most avalanches occur twenty-four hours after a rapid, heavy snowfall.”

  Sanderson raised his hand, “You’re saying there is more than one kind of avalanche?”

  “Actually, there are two main types. A ‘loose snow avalanche’ typically occurs on steep terrain and is a teardrop-shaped mass that gathers volume and intensity as it travels down the mountain. A loose snow avalanche usually occurs with freshly fallen, low-density snow or old snow that’s been softened by extended sunlight.”

  “The second type is a ‘slab avalanche,’ in which a layer of snow separates, shatters like glass and comes hurtling down a mountain. Slab avalanches account for about ninety percent of avalanche deaths. As I understand the mission parameters, this is the kind you want to create to accomplish your mission. What you’re basically looking at is the artificial process called calving. An example would be when a glacier close to the water calves and an iceberg is created.”

  “There are several factors in the calving process. These are longitudinal stretching, often this forms crevasses. If the crevasse penetrates the full thickness of the ice, calving will occur. Normally, longitudinal stretching is controlled by friction at the base and edges of the glacier, glacier geometry and water pressure at the bed.”

  “And you believe it is possible to artificially induce that type stretching?” Rourke asked.

  “Absolutely, it is essential. Otherwise you risk damaging the busts carved on the mountain itself. While they haven’t been seen in hundreds of years, their destruction from the use of high explosives would be unconscionable.”

  Cummings raised her hand. “Let me do some core sampling and figure ou
t the construction of the ice. Coupling that with what we know about Mount Rushmore, I believe we can give a safe method to slide the ice and snow right off of it.”

  Another military officer asked, “Exactly how do you intend to accomplish that?”

  Cummings, now focused, flipped on the computer screen, “As you can see, if we can use a pinpoint application of directed heat and sound vibration, it will work. We can use microwave transmissions to create a thin layer of disturbance deep in the ice. Controlled concussive sound should slide it right off.”

  “How long would you estimate your analysis and abatement would take?” Rourke asked.

  “With the right equipment and weather conditions, one to two days—no more.”

  “And you have the equipment you need?”

  “Some of it is out in the field on another survey. If you say it is a go, it can be on site within forty-eight hours.”

  Sanderson’s team and the Dog Soldier group’s training had dealt with conditions such as terrain and weather, techniques of military mountaineering, operations on glaciers and snow covered mountains.

  After glancing at his notes Sanderson said, “With Mount Rushmore at a height of just under 5,800 feet, it might be a little uncomfortable but won’t involve the problems on mountain real estate with an altitude of 10,000 to 23,000 feet. Today’s military has no experience fighting in truly high mountains. We have several archived mountain warfare manuals that deal primarily with low and medium mountains and stress the use of helicopter aviation to conduct that combat. However, helicopters cannot haul normal loads over 13,000 feet. Above that the rotors lack thick enough air to ‘bite’ into. Also, altitude sickness will not be a concern during this operation.”

  Kuriname then jumped in explaining more details concerning the upcoming operation. “Our teams will set up security for the scientists. Under the cover that this is an attempt to restore one of America’s national treasures, it should be a simple operation. We’ll be there to supplement the scientists. Once the ice covering has been dealt with, we’ll explore the immediate area with ultrasonic equipment and locate the Hall of Records. If the door to it is inoperable, and we’re figuring after centuries under the ice it will be, we will use plasma cutters to remove the artifacts and records.”