He moved to the rear of the car and opened the trunk. He put the rolled folder down on the left side of the trunk, straightened out the pulled-up matting and replaced the tire in its recessed well and bolted it securely. Inside were the usual tire changing tools and a Mason jar box containing quarts of Quaker State motor oil and an old license plate. It was a 1939 California plate with lettering and numbers painted in gold on a black background. Frank remembered William had told him that the car once belonged to Clark Gable, who drove it during the production of Gone With the Wind. He smiled at the thought, thankful for a moment of pleasant diversion from the heaviness of the Omega files. He put the license plate in the box and closed the trunk. He inserted the key back in the ignition, left the garage, and locked the door.
He wended his way through the high grass and weeds to the backyard bench and plopped down. He bent forward, placed his head in his hands and mulled over all the events of the day.
Frank’s quiet moment with his thoughts was short-lived.
Shuffling footsteps approached from the driveway.
Chapter 15
A woman and a man appeared around the corner of the house and made their way toward Frank. They brushed through the thick grass and stopped fifteen feet away.
“Are you Frank Dugan?” the pretty 30-something woman asked.
Frank stared at her, then stood up.
“That’d be me.”
“You’re Alasdair MacGowan’s detective friend from Florida.”
“Right again,” Frank said and wondered how she knew that. He noticed her comfort-fitting attire was losing its battle to conceal her shapely build. “I’m going to say something now that most people in my line of work often say to me: What’s this all about?”
“I’m FBI Special Agent Braewyn Joyce, a friend of Celine MacGowan,” she said and showed Frank her identification. “This is my partner, Special Agent Tom Gardner.”
Tom said nothing and hung back while Braewyn moved in closer to Frank.
Frank studied her intently. The woman had a sensual mouth and her beautiful face conflicted with her strictly-business air. His eyes washed her body down to her stylish pumps.
“Again, what’s this about?” Frank said.
“It’s about your film.” Braewyn said. “The NSA called us in to have a look.”
Frank immediately felt at a disadvantage.
“You saw the film?” he said. “Anyone else see it?”
“My partner and Celine, and possibly her former supervisor at NSA. It has ramifications we need to discuss with you.”
“I haven’t seen the film. When do I get to see it?”
“It’s under government scrutiny, at present. You never saw the film?”
“Not a frame.”
“We thought you’d seen it since it came from you.”
“It was too fragile to run through a projector. Celine was going to make me a digital copy.”
“You’re going to be asked a lot of questions, detective. Your film has caused quite a stir in Washington.”
“It’s from World War Two, I believe. What does an old film stir up over half a century later?”
“Do you have any other information about this Omega formula?”
My God, how did she find out about that?
“Omega formula?” Frank said. “Something in the film?”
“You know nothing of this weapon?”
“I came here to bury my father. I found the film on the property and gave it to Celine MacGowan. I haven’t seen the film, and anything about it is all news to me.”
Braewyn studied Frank’s face for several seconds. Frank recognized the ploy to see if he blinked or showed any tacit evidence of deception. He stared unflinchingly back at her.
“We’ll be in touch, sir,” Braewyn said and nodded to Tom.
The FBI agents turned and headed back to the street.
“That’s it?” Frank said, following them down the driveway. “‘We’ll be in touch’?”
The agents continued walking to their car without looking back. Frank yanked his cell from his belt and punched in a number. Seconds passed as Frank paced across the lawn.
“Alasdair, I need to talk to you.”
* * * * *
When Alasdair arrived at Elm Terrace, Frank was rocking in the porch glider. Two beer bottles sat on the table next to him.
“Drinking alone is a sure sign of a problem,” Alasdair said as he ascended the porch steps holding a spiral notepad.
Frank noticed the pad.
“Taking notes?”
“Got something I want to show you,” Alasdair said, patting the pad.
“Show me this: Why has everyone seen my film except me? Show me how that happened?”
“It’s the government, Frank. Federal agencies. You know how they are. Full of themselves. Slinging their power everywhere they might to validate their self importance.”
“I gave you that film and trusted you to make sure it didn’t get into the hands of those power slingers.”
“Celine had to use her former contacts at NSA to get the film converted to a digital format. Her supervisor took it on himself to call in the feds when he saw it. But not before Celine got a copy and brought it home.”
“So, where’s the copy?”
“The FBI found out about her copy and made her hand it over.”
“To this Braewyn agent?”
“Yeah, Braewyn’s an old acquaintance of Celine’s. Made PR and training videos with our company for the Bureau.”
“So you charged over here to comment on my drinking and tell me I’m sucking eggs.”
“I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed that part of my trip, but if you’ll lose the snitty attitude, I’ll make your day.”
Alasdair looked back toward the street and panned his eyes in a wide arc. He then pulled a DVD from inside his notepad.
“Made a copy of Celine’s copy,” Alasdair said and extended the disk to Frank. “Before Ms. FBI got hold of it.”
“Got my laptop inside,” Frank said and took long strides to the front door.
* * * * *
Frank led Alasdair into the parlor where the laptop was set up on the cocktail table in front of the sofa.
“Got any idea how long this is?” Frank asked.
“Celine’s copy said six minutes.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Nope.”
Frank inserted the disk into the laptop’s DVD tray and activated the video. The first few frames credited the film as being the property of the United States Department of War. Next, Frank heard the familiar voice of William Dugan as he narrated the opening scenes, taken from several World War II battle films in the Pacific:
“Four trying years have passed and our nation is weary of war. American families, who have sacrificed so much, want victory at the earliest possible opportunity.”
William’s articulate voice sounded similar to Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s in its precision, pace, and timbre. Frank smiled at his remembrance of the narrator.
On the laptop screen: A kamikaze dove into an American aircraft carrier, exploding into a fiery horror on the vessel’s deck. The narration continued over more battle scenes:
“We are now faced with the final days of a long, costly campaign to preserve the liberty of America and many of her sister nations who have fought so valiantly by our side. Conventional bombs have had an effect, but not enough to achieve an end to the war.”
Next came scenes of the U. S. Marine assault on the beaches of Iwo Jima with American soldiers being cut down by heavy Japanese gunfire, again and again.
“The final days confront us with options to either fight on conventionally, or resort to the deadliest means we have at our disposal to shorten the strife and save many thousands of lives, even those of the enemy.”
Footage of an atomic bomb test explosion in the desert burst onto the screen with mock buildings and mannequins being evaporated by the bomb’s shock wave, and the following
all-consuming fires and devastating winds.
“We intend to embark on the latter option. The invasion of mainland Japan will lengthen the war interminably and add tens of thousands of Allied lives to the terrible price that has already been paid.”
A U. S. Army corpsman on the screen carried an unconscious soldier through mortar blasts and heavy machine gun fire.
“Our first tactic will be to use our weapons of atomic force. These will cause incredible damage and heavy losses of enemy lives, and should bring about the unconditional surrender of Japan. We have enough of these to wipe out multiple major cities in Japan, but our hope is that she will capitulate early in this campaign and save her citizens. These weapons leave behind the destruction of infrastructure, as well as humanity, but because of problems associated with radiation, they will make our occupation and provision of medical aid complicated and greatly delayed.”
More scenes rolled by on the screen of large American ships at sea being torpedoed, crippled and sinking, while U. S. Navy sailors abandoned them, diving into the flaming, oil-slicked water.
“The Japanese are a proud, resourceful, and determined people. Should we not obtain the unconditional surrender we demand, we will be forced to use our weapon of last resort: The Omega Formula, a weapon of unbelievably selective devastation. The following scenes show the incredible lethality of this device, but with one, remarkable new feature.”
The screen showed a large flat expanse with hundreds of prairie dogs shot from a high angle above. A baseball-size pellet was shown in a close-up on a plane, then dropped and activated a moment before contacting the ground. A rippling wave distorted the air below the plane for a split-second and, when it cleared, the entire prairie dog population lay dead, but not one burrow, bush, or stone on the surrounding plain was affected.
“It kills all animal life without radioactive fallout, fire, or damage to inanimate objects. The humans will die without bloodshed, and the buildings and infrastructure of the targets will remain intact. The kill range of a small amount of this weapon is its most powerful feature. The weapons will contain thousands of these pellets and will be dropped from a low altitude all across the island of Honshu where they will be activated by atmospheric pressure as they near the earth. This aggregate weapon is lethal for a radius of several miles at ground level, while below ground and the overhead atmosphere will be equally affected for several hundred feet. Our aircraft can accurately drop these pellet packages with complete safety at moderate altitudes and return home safely with their crews.
“Please note the following demonstration:”
A scene depicted more than five hundred adults, mostly men, in a huge circle in a vast desert, like the ones shown in documentaries of the Mojave or Death Valley. A close-up inside a small plane showed a baseball-size pellet being dropped from its open door. The plane’s altimeter was cut to in a close-up showing a steady three thousand feet. The pellet was set off when it reached near-ground level, creating an almost invisible wave, which resembled a heat mirage. The wave expanded rapidly across the ground, well beyond the people as every person in the circle, instantly crumpled and fell, lifeless.
“We can have ready the number of weapons needed within the next few days. If our atomic attacks don’t quicken the surrender of Imperial Japan, we will deploy the Omega Formula.
“May God forgive us for having to unleash this deadly device and its awesome power.”
The screen faded to black.
“Those people looked real,” Frank said, his head bowed.
“Aye.”
Frank shut down the laptop and closed the lid.
“You think your grandfather’s having us on?” Alasdair asked.
“There’s one thing I know about William. He never lied.”
“I think we need to keep this between us as best we can,” Frank said. “Answer no questions for anyone. We know nothing.”
“Done,” Alasdair said as he left the house. “Even if the PETA people contact me about the prairie dogs.”
Frank had little interest in prairie dogs, but he was concerned about his grandfather’s role as a mass murderer, and he felt a great pillar of his life was about to be toppled. And he knew something else: This latest window into his grandfather’s past would force him to solve the mystery, and not relent until he answered all the questions posed by the film he’d just seen.
Was this something William could’ve been a party to? How could he kill innocent people in cold blood? For all these past years, have I revered a monster?”
Frank planned to pursue the clues left by William to the end. He would dig in and find meaning in all the hidden mysteries surrounding his grandfather, and either exonerate him or condemn him. Frank was a detective. He had to know the truth. He had to accept the commitment.
Frank Dugan squared his shoulders and crossed the Rubicon of his life.
Chapter 16
The late afternoon air outside the house was warm but fresh, and carried the mixed aroma of lawn tractor exhaust and newly-cut grass. Frank returned to the garage to retrieve the Omega folder from the trunk of the Reo.
Frank wished he was still a young boy who wasn’t allowed to know what transpired in the garage. His father often said, in his unvarnished, street vernacular, “Information gives monkeys the shits.” A phrase Frank never understood until he was in his teens. It meant knowing too much can create fear. Some things, he agreed, were better left unknown.
He was on the verge of the shits, but he sat in the Reo and continued to read the memos. His grandfather’s words gained intensity as the messages approached Mid-August of 1945. But it was the last one, written in 1995, that had his head reeling.
August 14, 1995
Gentlemen,
On this auspicious 50th anniversary of our victory over the tyranny of the Empire of Japan, I call us to assemble for what may be our last time together. For this meeting, I have asked my son Joseph, a police officer of whom I am very proud, to witness our discussion, our re-telling of the events that led to our victory, and our admission to our complicity in the making of the Omega Formula film. Someday the world may need to know what we accomplished, but perhaps never how we did it. I have also left clues for my beloved grandson, who now fights terrorism and tyranny overseas, to learn the facts about our deeds.
The judgment of the world upon us may rest in their hands and, most importantly, the secret of the Omega Formula will forever be preserved, or revealed, as these modern times move these two men to do so. May God guide their hearts.
You are the finest of what freedom has to offer on a planet steeped in strife, oppression, and human suffering. I salute you for your service and courage in the face of a most challenging history.
When MacArthur accepted the surrender of Japan on the battleship Missouri, and every soldier and sailor came to attention, it was a tribute to you.
Your constant friend and servant,
W
Frank gripped the wheel of the car and closed his eyes. After a moment, he rolled the folder back up and went to the trunk and opened it. He carefully tucked the folder behind the spare and wedged it down into the tire well. He closed the trunk and laced his fingers on top of his head. His eyes glistened.
My God, my father knew everything about the Omega formula. Was that what his killers wanted?
* * * * *
Frank watched Alasdair gaze at the bubbles rising in his beer glass as they sat at the bar at Alfredo’s Lounge in Catonsville. A day had passed since the visit from the FBI and Frank was not getting anywhere solving his father’s murder. He looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar. His face was unshaven and his thick chestnut hair looked like he’d driven in the Indy 500 with no helmet in a convertible with the top down.
“I told Celine I saw the film,” Alasdair said.
“I wish we’d left it in the fallout shelter.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble this has caused you. Celine couldn’t use the film editing equipment at NSA with
out clearing it with her boss who oversees those sorts of things. They’re a tight-ass bunch. He felt obligated to inform the government and pressured Celine to turn over the film.”
“It’s okay. This Omega thing has blindsided me. I knew my grandfather worked on the Manhattan Project and had been a consultant for the Army Air Force in World War Two, but I never suspected he was into this James Bond stuff.”
The bartender moved toward Frank and Alasdair.
“Get you fellas anything else?” she asked.
“I think we’re good,” Alasdair said.
“Two’s my limit. He’ll take the check,” Frank said.
The bartender placed the check in front of Alasdair who tossed a twenty-dollar bill down and shot Frank a glare. He waited until the bartender was at the cash register before he spoke.
“That Omega film deals with issues of national defense,” Alasdair said. “Celine learned of things at the NSA she could never discuss with me, and I’m her friggin’ man. With a grandfather and a grandson? Probably a wee bit wider info gap.”
“I loved the man. I tried to keep in touch with him almost every day before I was sent overseas. I was with him at the end, right up until his last breath,” Frank said.
“What’s on that film was way before our time, lad,” Alasdair said.
“True, but I can’t bring myself to believe he would kill people to make a scare film.”
“Maybe it wasn’t just a scare film.”
“You think it was for real? An Omega formula exists? Then why are we only finding out about it now?”
“Same reason: Your grandfather. He helped invent it, made sure the Japanese had a gander at it, then covered it up like it was rotten fish.”
“Well, not all of it,” Frank said low and scanned the room for nearby ears. “I found chemical compounds and formulas in a file folder in the shelter.”
The Omega Formula: Power to Die For (Detective Frank Dugan) Page 7
