The Siren Project

by Renneberg, Stephen

  Mitch drank deeply from his glass of water, but couldn't kill the burning chili sensation in his mouth. “We'll do reconnaissance first, from a distance.”

  Mouse straightened, vindicated. “Now you’re thinking straight.”

  “Which is why, tomorrow, you and Gunter will go get the equipment we need.”

  “Including a new computer for me,” Mouse said, still smarting over the destruction of his notebook.

  “And new watches for all of us,” Christa said holding up her wrist, showing her dead watch.

  “Gunter, I want you to send the shaving of that material we took from Ackerman’s truck to Lamar. Maybe the FBI lab can figure out what it is. We certainly can't analyze it ourselves. While you’re doing that, Christa and I will take a look at what’s beyond the fence.”

  Mouse looked puzzled. “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’m going to charter a plane and fly over it.”

  “I thought we just agreed not to use anything with an electrical system. They’re bound to have directed energy weapons sweeping the sky. If you get close enough to fly over the base, they’ll shoot you down.”

  “Only if I fly a plane with an electrical system.”

  Even Gunter looked confused.

  “You’re going to fly a horse over the base?” Mouse asked incredulously.

  “No, a glider. The stick and flap controls are mechanical, not electrical. All I need is a magnetic compass and a few good thermals and we’ll have a bird’s eye view of Sincom One.”

  “Have you ever flown a glider before?” Christa asked.

  “No, just light planes.”

  “Trainers,” Mouse said.

  Mitch glanced at Christa. “After the Marines, I started training to be an airline pilot. Didn't work out.”

  “He flunked out,” Mouse said.

  “I had no trouble flying. It was the landings I never got the hang of.”

  “So you think flying without an engine is easier than flying with an engine?” Christa asked.

  “No engine, less to worry about. Eagletail Mountain will have plenty of updrafts. I'll keep us airborne as long as we need. Christa, I want you to do the photoreconnaissance.” He turned to Gunter. “We'll need a mechanical film camera, not a digital.”

  “Is that your idea of a first date?” Christa asked mischievously. “Doing photoreconnaissance of a secret base full of people who want to kill me.”

  Mitch smiled. “At least I know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “Last time you showed me a good time, New York was almost incinerated, but I did get a good kiss on the way out.”

  “Kiss?” Mouse demanded. “What kiss?”

  * * * *

  Mitch found Christa and Mouse standing beside the four wheel drive next morning at eight AM, watching Gunter’s long legs protruding from the front passenger door. Mitch went to speak, but Christa raised a finger to her lips, indicating silence. Mitch stepped closer to see Gunter lying on the floor of the vehicle with a screwdriver from the car’s tool kit, working on something underneath the dash board. A moment later, his hand emerged holding a small circular piece of metal with a thin wire protruding from it. He clambered out of the car, walked over to the gravel drive, picked up a large rock and smashed the device.

  He turned and held up the tiny electronic apparatus. “I have gone over our vehicle twice, thoroughly. Two bugs and a homing device.” Gunter reached into his pocket and pulled out two more smashed coin sized objects.

  “Looks like Ackerman and Cousin Floyd do more than fix cars,” Mitch said dryly.

  They climbed into the four by four, then Gunter drove them to the Gila Bend airport a few miles out of town. Mitch went into the office of the local flying school, while the others waited in the car, watching the near deserted airstrip. A local waste disposal truck rumbled in and lifted a rectangular bin, depositing the rubbish in its masher. A few minutes later, Mitch came back out.

  “They have a training glider. We can hire it and the tow plane this afternoon, but I have to do a safety check this morning.”

  Christa climbed out of the car, while Gunter started the engine. “Good luck.”

  “If we can find a camera,” Gunter said, “We'll have it here by lunch time.”

  Mitch and Christa walked back to the office, while Gunter turned the car back onto the road for the forty mile trip east to Maricopa. Behind them, the waste disposal truck dropped the bin on the ground, and reversed, then slowly rumbled back to the road and headed east. The road was long and straight, and for a while Gunter, ever alert to being tailed, noticed the garbage truck behind them, but it slowly fell further and further back.

  Mouse noticed Gunter’s regular glances at the rear vision mirror. “Anything?”

  Gunter grunted uncertainly. He watched the distance between them and the truck widen, until he saw it only occasionally, then not at all. Eventually he relaxed, satisfied they were not being followed and the truck had been on the same stretch of road only because there were no other roads. He kept the four wheel drive sitting on the speed limit all the way into Maricopa, a much larger town than Gila Bend. The old woman running the guest house where they stayed had told them they might get most of the equipment they needed there.

  They drove down main street, parking in front of a large general store and went inside. Gunter collected the equipment he was looking for, while Mouse discovered the store didn't sell computers. Gunter laid his purchases on the counter, while Mouse asked the salesman behind the counter where he could buy a computer.

  “Try the electrical store three doors down,” the salesman said, nodding toward the street.

  “What about a Geiger counter?” Gunter asked.

  The salesman shook his head. “Haven't seen one of them around here in a long time.”

  Gunter paid for his purchases, then deposited them back in the car before heading to the electrical store. He'd only gone a short distance, when he noticed a waste disposal truck parked across the street, seemingly abandoned.

  Mouse followed Gunter’s gaze. “Is that the same one?”

  Gunter ran his eye up and down the street, but saw no one watching them. “Same type of truck, but I cannot say if it is the same truck. Keep your eyes open,” he said, as they entered the electrical store.

  Mouse immediately found a small display of computers for sale. He sighed, disappointed. “Man, this stuff is prehistoric.”

  “But will it do?”

  Mouse gave the computers a disparaging look. “It’ll have to.”

  Behind them the bell over the door dinged as two men in gray overalls entered, and walked to the display of household electrical fittings.

  Gunter glanced curiously at the two tradesmen, then left Mouse to choose one of the aging computers, and approached the salesman. “ Do you have a Geiger counter?”

  “Geiger counter?” The old salesman repeated in an overly loud voice, due to his partial deafness. “What on Earth you want that for?”

  “Prospecting.”

  The salesman looked puzzled, wondering what kind of prospecting a Geiger counter would be used for. “Ain’t nothing out there. Folks been all over that country. Got a couple of metal detectors, if you're looking for gold, but . . . it’d be a waste of money.”

  “No. I need a Geiger counter.”

  “Let me see what I got out back. Lot of junk out there. If I have one, it’ll be second hand.”

  “Second hand is acceptable.”

  Mouse selected the least deficient computer, placed it on the counter, then looked over the limited display of cameras in a glass case. Most were electronic types, but there was one aging manual film camera which had been unsalable for years. He strolled towards Gunter, noticing that while the tradesmen examined a box of light switches, they periodically glanced at the big German.

  The salesman headed off to his storeroom out back while Mouse laid the computer he'd selected and a variety of cables and attachments on the counter. “I'll connect
to my site tonight,” he said, referring to a server he had in Toronto that allowed him to access his archive of hacker programs from anywhere in the world. “This box will be slow, but it'll do.” He leaned close to Gunter and whispered, “I don't think the two guys over there are as interested in light switches as they appear to be.”

  Gunter glanced at the two tradesman examining the box of light switches. “I know.”

  The salesman came out carrying a rusting metal box with a black wire attached to a small sensor. “Will this do?” he shouted. “Been out there for years, think it dates back to when they were doing them nuclear bomb tests. People in these parts got a little nervous about that fall out stuff.”

  Gunter examined the ancient Geiger counter, satisfying himself it still functioned. “How much?”

  The salesman glanced at the pile of computer equipment on the counter. “You together?”

  Gunter nodded.

  “A hundred dollars. Plus the cost of the computer.”

  “Agreed.”

  One of the tradesman walked over and looked at the Geiger counter. “I’ve been looking for one of those, I’ll give you two hundred dollars for it.”

  Gunter looked coldly at the man, certain he wanted to prevent them from testing for radiation outside the Sincom base.

  “Well, I’d kind of already sold it to this here fella.” The salesman looked at Gunter helplessly, unsure if he could refuse a better offer.

  “Three hundred dollars,” Gunter said.

  “Four hundred,” the tradesman bid immediately.

  Now the salesman was genuinely confused. “I can’t guarantee this thing is working.”

  “I can fix it,” the tradesman said.

  “Five hundred dollars,” Gunter countered, eyes now locked onto the tradesman, studying his every move.

  “Five hundred dollars?” the salesman said incredulously. “For that?”

  “Six hundred,” the tradesman bid.

  Gunter turned to the salesman. “One thousand dollars in cash, plus for the computer.”

  “And that old camera,” Mouse added. “And a couple of boxes of film.”

  The salesman’s eyes widened, now thinking tax free money. He turned to the tradesman. “Are you bidding cash?”

  The tradesman’s face hardened. Without a word, he nodded for his companion to follow, and left.

  Gunter produced a roll of cash and counted out the money.

  “You should be careful carrying around that much folding money.”

  “I am always careful,” Gunter assured him, pocketing the remaining notes.

  They collected their purchases then walked out of the shop. Outside, they studied the street carefully.

  “No sign of them,” Mouse said a little anxiously.

  “And the waste collection truck is also gone.”

  “You want to bet that’s the only Geiger counter in any store for a hundred miles?”

  “No, you would win. Clearly, they will not allow anyone to puncture the deception.”

  “Yeah, and now they know we’re going back.”

  They climbed into the four by four and headed west out of town, back toward the Gila Bend airstrip to give Mitch the camera before he took off.

  * * * *

  The glider shuddered as Mitch released the tow cable at eight thousand feet. The plane had towed them about forty miles north of Gila Bend before release, on the promise that they'd glide south in order to be safely over the airport when he ran out of altitude. The tow plane pilot had been curious at their desire to be towed so far north before release, but his curiosity vanished when Mitch doubled his fee. The tow plane banked to the south, then as soon as it was out of sight, they turned north. Now that they were flying freely, Mitch tested the glider controls with a gentle banking maneuver, finding there was so much heat rising off the desert, that thermals were plentiful.

  Christa called from her seat behind him, a touch of apprehension in her voice. “Can you really fly this thing?”

  “Sure,” Mitch said with more confidence than he felt. “It comes with parachutes, doesn't it?”

  He dipped the nose slightly to build air speed, then regained some lost altitude in a thermal. Below, the sun bleached desert ran with unexpected patterns drawn by dry creek beds and gullies that saw rain every few years. In the distance, the unnatural line of a road cut across the desert, and occasionally a tiny object could be seen crawling ant like along it. To the north, the ridge and peak of the Eagletail Mountains raced toward them out of a vast dry plain.

  Mitch angled the glider to pass well above the southern ridge. “Get ready, we should see something soon.” He glanced at the battery powered instrument panel, checking their air speed and altitude, then soared through a thermal to gain a little height.

  Christa sighted through the old film camera Mouse had purchased, getting a feel for the focus, while the ground below seemed to rise slowly to meet them.

  The speaker mounted on the far left of the simple control panel hissed as a radio signal was beamed toward them. “White glider, heading three five zero degrees, altitude five thousand six hundred feet. You are entering restricted air space. Change course to one eight zero degrees, immediately.”

  “At least we know they’re paying attention,” he noted uncomfortably.

  “What should we do?”

  “Ignore it. Hopefully they’ll think our radio is switched off.”

  Mitch nosed down to gather speed, dropping closer to the high ridge racing below them.

  “White glider, heading three five zero degrees, you are entering controlled air space. Change course to one eight zero degrees immediately. Acknowledge.”

  The ground below began to drop away as the desert beyond the mountains opened up before them.

  “I see it!” Christa called excitedly. “Way over there, ahead and to the left.” She focused the old film camera, snapping several pictures through the telephoto lens.

  Several miles north of their position, nestled close under a steep rock wall was a cluster of buildings laid out in a neat rectangular pattern. Mitch began a slow turn to port, wary of bleeding speed by a rapid course change. They glided out over the desert, pulling away from the ridge as they approached the complex.

  “White glider, you are entering restricted US military air space. We are authorized to use lethal force to maintain air security. Change course to one eight zero degrees. This is your final warning.”

  Christa snapped another picture as they drew closer. “Maybe we should turn back.”

  “Unless they’ve got surface to air missiles, there’s not a whole lot they can do to us. Let’s see if I can’t confuse them with some lousy flying.”

  Mitch gently turned to port again, as if beginning to head off to the east, but soon rolled back towards the north, drawing closer to Sincom One. Valuable seconds passed and no further warning sounded from the speaker, as the complex took shape. A large rectangular central building, flanked by several smaller structures to the north, came into view. A white dish antenna of a satellite ground station was on one side of the complex, and a large hanger alongside a concrete helipad was on the other. A sleek black helicopter gunship sat on the landing pad, its rotors spinning up to speed.

  “Forget about surface to air missiles,” Mitch said, dropping the nose of the glider down to trade altitude for air speed. “They’ve got an Apache down there.”

  “I see it!” Christa focused the telephoto lens on the sleek helicopter gunship. “Two pilots aboard. It’s just lifting off.”

  He angled the glider to the east, as if finally turning away, but kept the aircraft level so Christa’s view of the base would not be obstructed by the glider's body. She focused and snapped pictures in quick succession, zooming in as close as possible to each building. They were close enough now that Mitch could see the base was encircled by two wire fences, one inside the other, marking the inner and outer perimeters of the installation. Several miles further west was a third wire fence, the fen
ce they'd encountered yesterday bordering the dirt track. The location of the base, nestled as it was between an almost sheer cliff face and a ring of hills, had been wisely chosen. Visual sighting of the base from ground level beyond the outlying fence was impossible and any approach overland would be easily detected. The cliffs made approaching the ridge from the north impractical and far to the south, another fence blocked access to the heights overlooking the complex.

  “Someone sure is particular about their privacy down there.”

  The clicking of Christa’s camera fell silent. “I’m out of film. Let’s go.”

  Mitch banked sharply to the south, losing speed as the glider turned onto the course instructed. Too late. The control panel sparked and the instrument gauges all dropped to zero. “We just lost our electrical system!” He reported, finding neither the flying performance of the glider nor the functioning of the compass were impaired by the short circuit. He had no air speed indicator or altimeter, and the radio was dead, but the glider’s air surfaces were all wire controlled. “If we were a powered aircraft, we’d be going down hard now. You feel anything?”

  Silence.

  “Christa?” Mitch craned his head around to see her. She was unconscious, her head slumped forward, her breathing shallow. “Christa, can you hear me?” he yelled, wanting to reach out and touch her, but unable to do so without losing control of the glider.

  He guessed the directed energy weapon could be focused on them constantly, trying to knock them out of the sky and subjecting Christa to a sustained bombardment, something she'd never experienced before. Mitch pushed the stick forward, throwing the glider into a wild dive toward the ridge as he stole a glance at the base below to his right. The attack helicopter was now racing toward them, still too distant for Mitch to see the cannon barrels mounted in its nose, but with unmistakable purpose.

  The glider fell into a near vertical dive, its structure vibrating vigorously against the sudden burst of speed. He assumed the energy weapon was radar guided, which meant he could not fly out of its beam. His only option was to place an obstacle in its path. He angled the dive toward the jagged peak below and the cliff wall beyond, while the Apache closed on them. Mitch was certain it was only a matter of seconds before its guns would be close enough to shoot the light weight glider out of the sky. Subterfuge was their only escape. With the ridge top racing up at them, he pushed the stick sideways, rolling the glider. Almost upside down, he aimed for the northern cliff face. The glider kicked, complaining at a maneuver it was never designed to perform, then it plunged toward the jagged ridge top. At the last moment, Mitch threw the stick to port, lifting the starboard wing and angling the nose away from the cliff’s edge. He hoped to deceive the Apache as the inverted glider swept past the cliff top, the canopy missing the jagged edge by feet. The fragile aircraft then plummeted down a near vertical rock face. Mitch forced the nose of the glider away from the cliff, gaining air room while still inverted, then he barrel rolled, righting the glider as it swept away from the rock face. When the wings leveled, he ran parallel to the cliff, gaining altitude from the thermals.