"Great. 'm Nick, I didn't catch you name," Giovanni lied.
"Ken. Ken Phillips."
"Nice to meet you Ken. Say, could you give me a hand with this tool box. It's a bitch getting it up the ladder."
"Yeah, sure,” Ken said all the time trying to see what was going on out on the track."
"And he's on it," the announcer said, meaning that the driver was attempting to qualify.
"Look, let’s just get it done. I want to see this run," Ken said.
"Hey, no problem. Let both just watch it, then we can do it."
"Great," Ken said.
They both stood at the top of the bleachers and watched the car circle around the track. Ken was transfixed. It was interesting to watch the people. They were riveted to the car, willing it to go faster.
"The time 39.705 seconds and a speed 226.091," the announcer said excitedly. The crowd cheered.
"Shit," Ken said, "That ain't gonna' get it done. It will take at least 227 to get the pole"
"You really think so?" Giovanni said, acting interested.
"Bet your ass. He had better pick up the pace if he is even gonna' even make the front row."
They watched as the car completed the four lap-ten mile run. The average speed was 225.692 and Ken had seemed disappointed.
"Well, he will get them race day. He’s really smart, and tough too. He'll get em'," Ken said when it was over.
"Your favorite?"
"You bet. The kid has real talent. You just wait until race day. Mark my words he'll do alright come Memorial Day I'm sure."
"You bet your ass. Now let’s get that toolbox up on the roof."
They got it up with little effort. Giovanni could have done it alone but he wanted to secure a relationship with Ken. Once on the roof, he went to the air conditioner unit and removed the access panel.
He climbed inside and looked out on the track. It was spectacular. Thousands of race fans were crammed into ever available space above the pits. He could see the start finish line and the announcers stand.
The area inside turn one, known as the snake pit, was a mass of humanity. Giovanni took out the binoculars and watched what appeared to be some ancient tribal ritual going on among the mostly young and drunk. 'Snake Pit' seemed the appropriate name.
He stayed inside the unit for most of the morning just watching the proceedings. Several cars had gone out on the track so far but it seemed to him that no one had gone faster than the first car out.
Around noon the activity slowed down so he decided to call it a day and get off the roof. He climbed back down the ladder with the tool box balanced on his shoulder. When he got down, Ken was watching the track.
"Kind of slow isn't it?" Giovanni said, meaning the activity.
"Yeah. It slows down when the track gets hot. If it stays this hot, my boy could just sneak in on the pole" Ken told him.
"Well, I did all I could for today. I have to order a couple of parts. I patched it up so no one should bitch too much. I'm sure I'll see you again soon. Hope you’re guy hangs in there for you."
"Nice to meet you Nick. You get some time off, come on up and watch with me if you want."
"Thanks. I just might take you up on that. See ya," he said and lugged the tool box back down to the golf cart. It took over an hour to work his way over to the van and load the cart inside.
He changed clothes and mingled with the people. He needed to learn more about the cars and drivers in case he had further conversations with Ken. He spent the remainder of the day watching and trying to learn the various car and driver combinations. At the end of the day his head was reeling from all the information. How in the world did they keep all straight?
Sunday, the second of the qualifying days, he again spent at the track. The pole had been won by the James Alanso and right next to him was rookie sensation Anthony Hill. The final front spot went to veteran Bryan Dixon. It was speculated that he had been sand bagging all month long.
Giovanni increased his knowledge as the days went on. He was beginning to recognize number, cars and driver combinations. He watched from several places around the track. The first weekend found 24 cars qualified. Nine more would fill out the field the following weekend.
Giovanni only visited the track twice during the week. He made one more visit to the roof after spending some time talking to Ken about the first week end's events.
"Hey, it ain't so bad. Spenser on the third row," Giovanni said.
"Outside of the third row. That ain't' a very safe place to be when they all try to squeeze into turn one at 226 plus miles an hour," Ken lamented.
"Hell, he's smart. He knows the race isn’t won on the first lap. He'll do fine.”
"Anderson sure got the shaft. Here he is at 226.593 and all the way back in the fifth row. Man he will be hot on race day."
"Yep. I guess that's the breaks when you don't get to qualify the first weekend."
"Still, has to piss him off. I sure would me."
"I got to go check out the unit on penthouse six. It's acting up now. See ya later."
Giovanni went up on the roof and spent time near the number six air conditioner.
He didn't really do anything, but he wanted to establish a pattern of talking to Ken and being allowed access to the roof. The following Saturday and Sunday were the last opportunities for the cars and drivers to make the show, as it was called. Sunday was 'bump day'. The slowest driver gets 'bumped' from the field and the process continues until only the fastest 33 cars are on the starting grid.
On Thursday, after the last weekend of qualifications and the field is filled, he returned with the cart and a large box. He hauled it up to the top of the bleachers.
"What you got there? Your lunch?" Ken kidded as Giovanni reached the top.
"The parts for the air conditioner unit finally came in. Gonna' see if I can get it installed before race day," Giovanni explained.
"No shit. It will be a little late them. You better get done soon. I hear the Secret Service is due any day now. They are gonna' be all over this place like flies on shit."
"No kidding? Why is that?"
"Hell, ain't you heard? The President is gonna' tell em' to start their engines."
"Sure, I know that, but why would they be up here?"
"I guess to keep an eye on us. We've been told we would have at least one agent with us at all times."
"That ought to mess up the works."
"Tell me about it. You need a hand getting that box on the roof?"
"You bet. Thought you would never ask," he kidded.
They worked it up the ladder and Giovanni hauled it over the top.
"Thanks," he said sticking his head over the edge.
"No problem. See ya later," Ken said, heading back down the ladder. He stopped and yelled, if you get a chance come on down and we can watch carburetor day. All 33 cars will be out in two groups.”
“If I can get this damn thing installed, I’ll come on down.”
Giovanni carried the box over to the air conditioner, removed the access panel and placed it inside. He climbed in and secured the cover. He quickly assembled the bench rest he had fashioned and assembled the SILVER-2. He powered up the weapon and looked through the scope. The start finish line jumped into view. He checked the distance. It was only 1956.6 feet away.
The vent was obscuring part of the view through the scope so he took out a pair of sheet metal cutters and trimmed it back some. The view was perfect. He stayed inside the unit for a couple of hours then climbed out and replaced the cover. He hated to leave the SILVER-2 on the roof but he didn't see that he had much choice at this point. When he came down off the roof, Ken was eating a hot dog and drinking a beer.
"Hey, I didn't expect you down so soon. You get it fixed?"
"Hell no. The dumb asses sent the wrong part. I got it working, sort of, but it ain't really right. I'm going to get the right part now. I'll be back to install it."
"You gonna' stay and watch carburetion day
? It's the best damn day outside of race day, ya' know?" Ken asked.
Carburetion day was the last time the cars that had qualified for the race, plus the two alternates, had a chance to sort out the cars. It was misnamed since the racer cars haven't had carburetors for over a decade.
Once this day was over, they were not allowed to make any major changes on the cars. They went out in two groups to make final adjustments, scrub in tires and check fuel mileage with their race set up. It is usually action packed, and the crowd is always large.
"I sure would like too, but I got a ton of work to do before race day. I'll sneak a peek whenever I can," Giovanni answered.
"Alright. See ya' tomorrow," he said as Giovanni started down.
CHAPTER FORTY -FIVE
Sean and PJ arrived in Indianapolis on Thursday, just about the time Giovanni was making his way home from the track.
"What a zoo," PJ said, trying to get through the traffic. They finally arrived two hours later after
two close calls and three people giving them the finger.
Once they got inside the track they found the security office under the main straight grandstand. Captain James Peters was in charge of the on-site security force.
"Captain Peters, I'm PJ Matts, and this is my partner, Sean Parker. We are the advanced team for the White House Security."
"Nice to meet you gentlemen. I'm sure glad you're here. This Presidents visit is making me nervous as hell. A half million people in one little area presents enough problems without the added pressure of this."
"We appreciate your concern. We will have a force of around two hundred agents from the combined government services. They start arriving tonight. By late tomorrow they should all be in place. We will have daily briefings and you are welcome to attend," PJ told him.
"I think that would be helpful, to say the least."
"Don't' worry, were not here to try and take over your show. Our only concern will be the safety of the President."
"You won't be stepping on my toes. I just want to see him get in and out of here as efficiently as possible."
"Great, then we should have few conflicts. Some of the Secret Service boys have a little bit bigger egos, but it shouldn't prove to be unmanageable."
"What do you need from me?"
PJ and Sean spent the next two hours going over arrangements and chain of command. Captain Peters filled in the missing details they needed. At the end of the two hours they had a good appreciation for each other’s concerns.
Captain Peters loaded them into one of the hundreds of golf carts and gave them a tour around the facility. It was almost dark by the time they finished.
"It looks like we are going to have to cover the approach to the helo pad, and from turn four to turn one. Is that essentially correct Captain?" Sean said.
"I think that should do it, as I understand the situation.”
"Alright, we will get the details worked out with our team and let you know the drill," Sean told him.
They had given thoughts to checking on all the hotels and motels with a picture of Giovanni DeRosso to see if they could get a positive ID. But after seeing the number of people that were arriving by the minute, they knew it would be hopeless. They headed to the north east side of town to Fort Benjamin Harrison.
The staging for the combined services was being housed in this area since no one else in town was able to accommodate that many people. Once they checked in they would have access to a helicopter to get back in forth to the 500 that was on the west side of Indianapolis. It took them over two hours to drive the twenty five mile distance.
CHAPTER FORTY -SIX
Giovanni packed provisions in the inside pockets of his overall before starting off to the track. He had been bringing them in a little at a time with each visit to the roof. He had all the water he would need already stored in the air conditioner unit.
He went to the local hardware store and purchased some copper connectors and several plumbing items and packed them in the tool box. Once at the track, he retrieved the cart and set out for turn one. He didn't park it in the usual place. This time he parked it with several others and left the key in it. He went on foot the rest of the way.
When he got to the top of the stairs a man was talking to Ken.
"Hi ya Nick? What's happening?"
"Same old shit, different day."
"Who is this?" the agent asked Ken.
"This is Nick from maintenance. He is trying to get the air conditioners ready for race day."
"Who authorized you to be here?"
"Authorized me? I guess the Mayor. It's his air conditioner that ain't working. Look, if you want me to forget it, that's fine with me. Just give me your name so I can report this when I get back to the office," Giovanni said taking out a pen.
"Hey, honest. He has been working on the damn thing for a couple of weeks now," Ken told the agent.
"I don't know. I haven't been informed of any air conditioning work," the agent said.
"Well the light in the short chute between one and two has to be fixed by me before I leave today as well. You know anything about that?"
"What the hell are you talking about? What chute?"
"He means the short straight that connects turn one to turn two. We call it the short chute," Ken added.
"You gear heads make me crazy. Look, you just get the damn thing fixed and get the hell back down here. Let me see what you have in the box first."
Giovanni opened the tool box and the agent rummaged around a bit, acting like he knew what he was looking at.
"Looks fine. You just hurry it up, you hear?"
"You can't rush evacuating and charging the system. It takes as long as it takes. I won't be any longer than I have too.”
Once Giovanni got on top of the roof he went to the second air conditioner unit and removed the bolts holding the access cover in place. He scattered his tools around and several parts. He was sure the Secret Service man would check on him and he wanted to have the illusion that he was working on this unit rather than unit number one where he and the SILVER were going to be.
Sure enough, about an hour later he saw the agent coming over the ladder to the top. He quickly turned his back and pretended to be struggling with a pipe wrench.
"How's it going?" the agent said sticking his head in the access door. Giovanni jumped, hitting his head against the line overhead.
"Son of a bitch. You scared the crap out of me," Giovanni said rubbing his head.
"Sorry about that."
"Damn that smarts. What can I do for you?"
"Just checking to see how much longer you think you will be?"
"Hour or so at most. I still have work to do down below," he lied.
"You don't intend to be back here tomorrow or Sunday do you?"
"Race day? We have a hundred so called emergencies that day, but I don't think I will be back working on this, if all goes well."
"Okay, but if you do have to come back, you bring a signed work order or you won't be allowed on the roof. Understand?"
"Got it. See ya' when I get done."
"I doubt it," the agent said and walked off.
Giovanni went about pretending to work on the unit for another hour. He climbed out and fastened the cover plate in place, packed up his tools and strolled over to unit one. He quickly opened it and placed the provisions he had brought inside. He placed the tool box beside the unit and went down the ladder.
"Hey ya' Ken. I think I got that son of a gun fixed for good this time."
"So you're out of here?"
"Sure am. Still got one more job to do down track side but it won't take long. When do you get off?"
"I'm done now really. The Secret Service is in charge from sun set on. I have to be here tomorrow for a short time, to get final instructions, then I'm off. I guess I won't see you around anymore this year."
"Never can tell. Ah, you’re probably right. Come on, I'll walk you down and we can get a beer before I
go to work on the lights in the chute," Giovanni said.
"Sounds good to me."
They went down to one of the vendors and had a beer and hot dog and talked about the upcoming race. Ken did most of the talking.
"Well, it's been real," Ken said.
"Nice to meet you Ken. See you when I see you," Giovanni said and started off in the opposite direction.
He waited until he was sure Ken was gone before doubling back. He went back up the stairs and on to the roof. If anybody stopped him he was going to tell them he left his tool box. No one even noticed him. He crossed the roof and in seconds was inside the unit with the cover securely attached. He was here for the duration.
CHAPTER FORTY-S EVEN
PJ sent an uncomfortable night on a cot in the middle of a large hanger surrounded with a hundred and fifty other uncomfortable men. Not exactly the boy's night out.
Around three A.M. he got up and went over to the mess hall. It appeared that half of the men had the same idea. Within a short period, sixty men sat around drinking coffee. All except PJ. He had found a coke machine and was soon downing a cold Diet Coke.
Most of the men sat around and told war stories about how they had done this and done that. The best ones started out, 'This is no shit'. That invariably meant that most of it was made up. PJ said little but listened as the stories grew in size. As always, the first liar never had a chance.
Eventually the talk turned to the current assignment and the SILVER weapon. Most knew PJ had seen the thing actually fire so they wanted the real story. He kept it as factual as he could but for those who had not seen the video tape it seemed exaggerated.
"I'm just telling you what the lab people told me. If the beam or bolt, whatever you want to call it, hits you, you’re dead. The thing doesn't wound. It kills," PJ told them.
It was a somber group that finally drifted off to try to get a little more sleep before the scheduled 7:00 A.M. briefing. Few accomplished the feat.
Giovanni was not having a great night either. He had been cooped up inside the unit for over 12 hours by the time the sun came up. He had placed a five gallon bucket in the room for use as a latrine. It was starting to get rank.
SILVER-2 (NORRIS FILES) Page 22
