by Joe Nobody
Her comment made the Texan chuckle, a needed relief. “About the best conjugal a man could ask for, by the way.”
They embraced, each seeming to gain strength from the hug. “Let’s get this dog and pony show on the road,” Dusty finally said. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”
They drove in a convoy to El Paso, Dusty carrying the rail gun on his lap as he rode in the back of the government SUV. “Did you notice all the macho FBI types spent more time protecting this weapon than they did us? We could have wandered off into the mountains, and they never would’ve have noticed, but they knew where this damned gun was every second of every day,” he whispered to Grace.
Grace laughed, “Yeah, I noticed that. How many times did Agent Monroe ask you to open the case so he could double-check what was inside? I think they’re nervous because Senator Hughes has never been captured.”
“You would have thought we were transporting a nuclear weapon or something. As far as the good senator goes, that old man is hiding out in a campground somewhere. I know; I’ve been there.”
They arrived at the El Paso airport well after the last normally scheduled commercial flight had landed. After passing through the after-hours security, the parade of nondescript, everyone-knows-they’re-feds, vehicles arrived beside the Air Force VIP transport jet idling on the tarmac.
Dusty exited with Grace, carrying only a small bag and the rail gun. Everyone was efficiently polite, including the Air Force steward who showed them to a pair of comfortable seats and provided basic instructions on how to operate the safety belts.
A minor issue occurred when the flight attendant reached for the rail gun’s case, thinking to put the loose luggage into an overhead bin. Dusty’s arm shot out, blocking the nice fellow’s effort. “I need to keep that here with me, sir.”
“But, sir, it’s against regulations for.…”
Agent Monroe appeared next to the bewildered airman. “It’s okay,” the FBI agent stated. “He needs to keep that on his person.”
For a moment, Dusty and Grace thought they were going to see an inter-department spat, the steward obviously not accustomed to people giving him orders on his own aircraft. But it passed without further friction.
And then they were flying west, Seattle their destination.
Neither Dusty nor Grace had ever been to the northwestern city, but both knew there wouldn’t be any time for tourist activities.
“I’ve wanted to see the Olympic Mountains ever since I was a little girl,” Grace commented, watching the fading lights of El Paso out the window. “I thought it rained all the time there. It wasn’t until I was older that I found it was a very nice place to live.”
Dusty smiled.
The couple spent the remainder of the short flight exchanging memories and perceptions of the territory below the plane. It seemed like little time had passed before they felt the aircraft start to descend. The steward appeared, informing his two passengers that they would be landing soon and to please remain buckled up and seated.
A similar convoy of dark vehicles met them at what appeared to be a military airfield. Dusty realized he had no idea where he was and didn’t feel comfortable with it. “They could be leading us into a trap, and there wouldn’t be a thing we could do.”
“You’ve got to start trusting sometime, Dusty. Really, we’ve got no choice.”
They drove through Seattle in the wee hours, both of the Texans gawking out the window at a new place. When their driver finally slowed down, it was at the gates of the port facility.
Shortly after passing through the entrance, they stopped in an empty lot where three unmarked cars waited. Alongside each stood a very serious-looking man, idling patiently while waiting for the passengers to arrive. Shultz and Monroe appeared at Dusty’s SUV, opening the door for the couple to exit.
“This is where we leave you in the fine hands of your private security,” Monroe stated without emotion. “They escort you the rest of the way to the ship.”
The FBI man then handed Dusty two thick envelopes, each officially sealed and marked, “Confidential property of the U.S. Marshal Service.”
“What’s this?” Dusty asked.
“Those are the new lives for both Miss Kennedy and you,” he answered. “There are Canadian passports, birth certificates, credit cards, and driver’s licenses. You’re now both officially Canucks.”
Ignoring his partner’s comment, Monroe elaborated, trying to make the news as palatable as possible. “We ran you both through an extreme version of the witness protection program. These folks are experts at establishing new identities. Those documents are real, and even include a complete credit history and background. They’ll pass any scrutiny.”
“Who am I now?” Grace asked, reaching to tear open her package.
Monroe’s hand shot out, halting her action. “Ma’am, I don’t want to know. This is all done by computer. No one knows, and you’ll want to keep it that way. There are instructions inside that will advise you destroy all existing documents and identification, as well as some exercises that will help you adopt the new identity.”
Dusty extended his hand, not really knowing what else to do. “Thank you,” the Texan said softly.
The senior FBI agent hesitated and then accepted the offered handshake. “Good luck,” he half-heartedly replied.
Monroe started to turn away but then stopped, pivoting to face Dusty. “I feel like I need to tell you something. I want you to know that I’m glad you and that damned rail gun are off my plate. But… after getting to know Miss Kennedy and you, I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re good people. I sincerely wish you the best and hope all we’ve been through results in a better world for all mankind.”
Dusty managed to mumble, “Thanks,” trying to think of something else to add, the disclosure having caught him off-guard. But Monroe didn’t give him time, abruptly turning away and briskly filing back to his ride.
The men chauffeuring them along the massive docks and piers fell silent, their only words uttered when the entourage stopped in front of a mammoth ship.
Dusty and Grace were met at the gangplank by two men in casual dress, one of them wearing a hat that said, “Captain.” He introduced himself as Christopher Bard. His companion, Mr. Montgomery was the second in command, coming across to Dusty as a quiet fellow who was happy remaining in Bard’s shadow.
“Welcome to the Parthenon, Mr. Weathers. Your belongings arrived earlier today. I took the liberty of having the crew store them down in the hold until such time as you wish to unpack. Your clothing is in your stateroom,” Bard announced. “Dr. Weathers and his family are aboard.”
“Who are the armed men?” Dusty asked, a little surprised by the presence of so much security.
Bard grinned, “I was a naval officer for several years, sir. During that time, I came to know and trust several United States Marines. While Parthenon’s refit was underway, I hired several of them to be our shipboard security and a few to supplement the crew. I think you’ll find them trustworthy and efficient employees, Mr. Weathers.”
Grace was staring at the ship, trying to take it all in. “I had no idea it would be so huge,” she breathed to Dusty. “This really is a floating city.”
“She’s really not that significant or noticeable as far as ocean-going vessels are concerned, ma’am. But, I think you will find the amenities suitable, and there’s plenty of room for Dr. Weathers’ lab equipment and machinery. We can cruise almost 4,000 miles without refueling. A blind trust has been established with several million dollars of funds available for provisions, fuel, payroll, and any additional items necessary. Let’s just say we won’t be running short on milk in the middle of the ocean,” he added with a grin.
After a second round of polite handshakes and introductions, Dusty and Grace were escorted to their quarters.
After Bard opened a heavy-looking steel door, Grace entered and stopped so suddenly Dusty almost bowled her over. “What’s wrong…” he started, but then he s
pied what had frozen Grace mid-stride.
The space was beyond unexpectedly vast.
“This is your main salon,” Bard stated with pride, enjoying the couple’s shocked faces. “The master stateroom is further on back. Those doors over there lead to the private galley, owner’s dining room, media room, gym, and studies. We still have about two thousand square feet of space available if you have additional needs.”
Grace was speechless, taking a few steps here and there, trying to take it all in. “This is bigger than my entire home,” Dusty whispered.
“It’s like a palace,” Grace finally stated. “I was expecting a cramped little stateroom with low ceilings.”
“Do you like it?” sounded Mitch’s voice, the professor coming up from behind. “My bride was so worried you wouldn’t like it, she’s hiding down in the bowels of the ship somewhere.”
“Oh, Mitch! It’s perfect! I had no idea,” Grace gushed.
“Good, she’ll be relieved.”
The tour continued, Dusty and Grace amazed at the luxury and opulence of their new digs. The kitchen had every imaginable appliance and amenity. Including granite counter tops, stainless steel dishwasher, and a huge, commercial refrigerator, it might have served as a set staged for a cooking show.
But it was the master stateroom that really inspired awe. One entire wall comprised of deck-to-deck windows provided a view of the ocean several stories below. “We had those specially installed so you would have plenty of light. They are one-way hurricane glass, so no one can see in.”
Dusty opened another doorway, locating the master closet. “This is the size of a bowling alley,” he remarked. His few items of clothing packed for the adventure were already hanging, barely taking up a tenth of the available space. Grace’s wardrobe looked somewhat less miniscule, but still took up very little of the area.
Grace, peering over his shoulder, announced, “Look at all that available hanger space. I can see several shopping trips in my immediate future!”
The “head” sported an oversized shower by anyone’s standards. But the fireplace and sunken tub, complete with Jacuzzi jets could inspire romance in any couple. Grace’s body language communicated her satisfaction with the space, running her fingers over the side of the oversized marble tub and chancing a somewhat provocative glance at the lanky Texan complete with a slightly seductive smile.
“Keep up! You haven’t even seen the best parts yet,” the younger Weathers chided the dithering duo, anxious to show off more of the space designed especially for Grace and Dusty. Continuing the tour, he ushered the couple to the media room. “This represents the latest 4K technology, complete with satellite feed and 2 stored terabytes of movies and shows. You just might end up a couch potato, brother,” Mitch teased, switching on the power to the screen.
Dusty having never seen such a large television, plopped down in the sectional recliner and kicked up his feet.
“Does it come with popcorn?” Grace snickered as she flipped the channels.
Throughout the tour, Dusty had had the rail gun tucked under his arm. Bard finally noticed, an apologetic look flashing across his face.
Dusty could tell by the man’s curious glances at the rail gun’s case that the ex-military officer knew what was inside. “Do you want to see it?” he asked.
Captain Bard started to say no, but then changed his mind. “Yes, sir, I am curious as hell to see it.”
With little fanfare, Dusty pulled his invention from the case, unfolded the stock, and handed it to the captain. “It doesn’t look like much, but it shoots pretty well,” the Texan grinned.
“Amazing,” Bard responded. “This one small machine has more firepower than my entire ship… my old ship. Perhaps more than our entire fleet. It’s difficult to comprehend. In a way, our whole military is made obsolete by this single invention.”
“I think that’s been a big part of the problem,” Dusty nodded. “A lot of people don’t like the change this technology represents. Hopefully, over time, we’ll be able to put it to good, peaceful use.”
The captain passed the weapon back, nodding his head. “Thank you for that. I’ll have another story to tell the grandkids one of these days. Now let me show you the special place we have for you to secure that monster.”
Bard led Dusty to a seemingly blank wall, adorned with only a small mirror. “That glass is a retina scanner. We’ll program in your eye-pattern tomorrow, but for now, it will accept mine.”
The captain stared into the mirror and then brushed one corner of the frame.
Dusty saw a bright blue light illuminate behind the glass, almost as if Bard was having his picture taken with a defective camera’s flash. The wall emitted a humming noise, and then the structure began moving inward.
The space wasn’t large, but it was obviously well protected. “There is about 50 square feet of storage inside,” Bard remarked. “The walls are multi-layered armor, much the same as what our tanks and troop carriers utilize. Short of a nuclear detonation, this vault is impenetrable. There should be plenty of space for your invention, as well as any valuable personal items.”
Dusty was impressed, reaching up to gauge the thickness of the doors and their massive hinges. “I guess we won’t have to worry about cat burglars,” he said, admiring the solidarity and security of the entry.
With the tour over, Bard said, “I’ll leave you two alone for now and give you a chance to become familiar with the new accommodations. If you have any questions or need anything, that phone on the wall connects directly with the bridge. Please don’t hesitate to call.”
The ship’s commander turned to exit and then had another thought. “There will be armed Marines outside your hatch. They’re there to keep the curious away, not to keep you prisoner. We are still loading equipment and supplies, and I don’t want any strangers wandering unescorted on my ship. Now, I’m sure you’re both exhausted. If it is acceptable, I would like to stop by at 0900 ship’s time. I would be honored if you’d both join me for breakfast at the captain’s table.”
Grace responded, “That’s sounds wonderful, Captain. We’ll see you in the morning, and thank you for the hospitability.”
“I’ll leave you to rest then. Good night.”
Grace was in the head, fiddling with the shower controls. “Can I use all the hot water I want?”
Dusty laughed, “This isn’t a WWII submarine, hon. I think they can handle your showering needs.”
“I don’t know,” she teased. “That seemed like one long trip to me. I’ve got a whole lot of road grime to wash off. We’re going to have to talk to your travel agent when we get back, Durham Weathers.”
Dusty grinned, wandering around while waiting his turn. Grace’s head appeared out of the partially opened door, holding a towel over her upper torso. “By the way, I’ve never done it on a ship before. What’s that old saying about the motion of the ocean?”
Before Dusty could reply, she had disappeared into the now steamy stall, snickering all the way.
Chapter 14
Breakfast was excellent but quiet. Dusty and Grace were exhausted from the late night travel and arrival, the thrill of new surroundings keeping the couple awake until the wee hours.
Dusty found Mitch on the deck, the professor’s cell phone glued to his ear. “What do you mean the shipment is delayed? I need that equipment in Seattle tomorrow!”
Listening to one side of the conversation, it was clear to the older brother than his sibling was frustrated. “I swear to God,” Mitch said, finally ending the call. “Some of these suppliers could mess up a two-car parade.”
Dusty grunted, “You and the crew hereabouts have done fantastic work, Mitch. There are always going to be glitches on a project of this magnitude.”
Before the professor could respond, his phone rang again.
Dusty stood next to Mitch, listening as yet another problem was laid in the professor’s lap. “Are you kidding me?” the younger brother shouted into the cell. “That�
�s not even close to the date I was promised. I have a critical deadline for tomorrow, and you’re not going to make it. How are you going to make this right?”
Mouthing the words, “I’ll see you later,” Dusty started to wander off, trying to decide between taking a nap and exploring other parts of the ship. Before he was ten steps away, Mitch called out. “I’m not going to be able to set sail with you tomorrow,” he announced, obviously pissed.
“What do you mean?”
“I have a mass spectrometer on the way from Germany, and it’s been delayed by weather along the East Coast. I’m going to have to stay here until it arrives. I’ll guess I’ll meet you in Hawaii.”
“Hawaii? We’re going to the islands,” Dusty asked, apparently confused.
“Didn’t Bard tell you? We’re doing sea trials and a shakedown between here and Hawaii. According to the experts, there are always a dozen little things that need to be addressed after a major refit like this one. We’ve already got pier space reserved at Pearl Harbor. They’ll fix everything up there, and then we’ll be good to go.”
