“How do you know all of this?” asked Kyle.
“Jack and Lisa aren't the only people I know on the beach. I have clients down here, people who saw it first hand...”
“Can we talk to them?”
Chase inhaled deeply, “I honestly don't know. I can ask. But these people are scared, they know the MIB is still down here watching and listening.” He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, adjusting his shirt, “Let's go get a bite to eat and see how much attention we'll get.” He let them pass and entered the zombie room, activating the camera and security systems.
“I hope we're not taking you away from anything, Chase.” Lynette climbed into the back seat of his extended crew cab, Kyle sitting up front in the passenger seat.
“No ma'am.” He started the truck and backed out of the driveway. “And if you were, I'd still be here...” He put the truck in gear and began rolling down the street toward Estero Boulevard, the main thoroughfare running along the beach.
“Well you'll at least let us compensate you for your time,” volunteered Kyle.
“No, Mr. S, I couldn't let you do that.”
“Really? Why is that?” asked Lynette from the back seat.
“Because, Jack is a Brother,” responded Chase.
Lynette leaned forward, “I don't understand...” Chase checked for cars in the rear view mirror before holding up his right hand, displaying his ring. She focused on it and Kyle saw it too. She recognized the design because Kyle's father had worn one very similar to it, a seal showing two Knights riding tandem on one horse. “You're a...”
“Yes ma'am,” he interrupted. Stopping at Estero, he checked for traffic and turned right heading down the beach toward the restaurants. Halfway through the turn he caught a glimpse in the mirror of a black sedan racing to catch up from behind.
“What does that mean to us?”
“It means you're on the friends and family plan...” he smiled, glancing at her image in the rear view mirror. “You have friends you didn't know you had. People that you can trust.”
■ ■ ■
It was clear the NSA had a considerable interest in the Steeles, as well as anyone they came in contact with. Chase figured at some point they would initiate contact to either interview them, or maybe something more aggressive. What he wanted to do, was to confirm for them via videos or photos, the girls' safe departure while allowing some privacy from the perpetual eavesdroppers. Secondary but equally as important, was to provide a little protection to the Steeles from harassment, if possible. Spending several days sightseeing and doing other touristy things, the Steeles towed their shadows around and punished them in the baking Florida sun, stopping frequently for little beach-side shops. Frequently checking the home's security and video systems showed the residence had been unmolested so far.
Chase had arranged a meeting with the wife of a Brother who worked as a reporter at one of the local news stations. The station was holding quite a grudge over their manipulation by the NSA and reporter Caroline Murphy happily agreed to meet with the parents of the girl involved in one of the most newsworthy events ever to occur in the area... or possibly anywhere. Chase hoped an interview with the Steeles and an investigative report on the events of that night, distributed nationally to all their syndicated stations might offer some protection via publicity. Publicity to a secret agency was like light to a vampire, it usually forced a retreat into the shadows for survival. Caroline was in possession of copies of that night's broadcast and would bring it along to share with the Steeles, hopefully allying all their fears of the well being for the two girls.
Several days before meeting with the Steeles, using their own parabolic mics and hi-powered lenses on HD video equipment, the investigatory team became the shadows of the shadowers, dangerously tracking the movements of the people who plagued the family. With an HD minicam passed on to them by Chase, Kyle and Lynette took video themselves, from their own vantage points, adding to the volumes of video footage.
The evening of the interview proceeded rather smoothly, Kyle and Lynette riveted by the live footage of the night, Lisa, Nina and Gus disappeared. It was a little bit surreal, almost like watching a Hollywood movie. But startlingly, it wasn't. Knowing it was real made it frightening, horrifying and amazing all at the same time. Lynette didn't realize it but she kept holding her breath for much of it, finally exhaling when the ship left the sand disappearing in the darkness, a spot of light streaking away. It was definite now; the girls were safe and unhurt. The fact that she was actually relieved by her daughter being whisked away on a space ship, never struck her as odd.
The image of them standing at the top of the ramp in the opening in the side of the ship, Gus circling them, was what she had waited to see. The interview went well, the reporter being careful to not get too personal, but including some of the background on Jack, leading up to the present events.
Caroline understood what happened here, and what happened with Jack. The term UFO no longer applied here, this was a close encounter of the third kind, documented and recorded on video. And there's a family history of involvement.
As a reporter, she knew what this story meant and why the NSA wanted it quiet. She envisioned this as at the very least, a thirty minute news special report and her editor agreed, lining up their entire collection of syndicated stations. There are three main awards for news, an Emmy, a Gracie and an AP Award. Caroline could taste all three. She wasn't taking any chances; they uploaded all their video footage to the station and to her own secret server, just in case. She called and confirmed it was at the station before she relaxed, knowing they would create multiple backups as well.
■ ■ ■
Kyle and Lynette sat on the deck sipping coffee, discussing the videos and the interview. They watched a light early morning fog drift low over the beach, the sky above them a bright blue. Kyle relaxed on the deck recliner, his coffee cup on the table between them, the day's newspaper folded across his lap.
The two men in loose casual pants and tropical shirts carrying their own cups of coffee. “Good morning...”
Kyle looked up, recognizing them both. “Morning,” he replied curtly.
Doug Mooreland walked up the three short steps onto the deck, “Mind if we join you?”
“Actually I do mind,” replied Kyle dryly, his hand coming to rest on the grip of the stainless steel, seven-shot .357 magnum, sitting on the little table next to his coffee.
“Easy big guy, we're just a couple neighbors stopping by for a chat over a cup of coffee.”
Kyle raised one eyebrow, “You must be joking.” He never took his eyes off them, studying them cautiously. “I really don't think we have anything to talk about.”
“I wouldn't be so hasty Mr. Steele.” He stepped forward and offered his hand,”Doug Moorland, my friend there is Pete Whitman.”
Kyle remained unmoved, his hand still resting on the grip of the stainless revolver. He stared at him, through him, with narrowed eyes. He'd already decided he didn't like the man. Maybe it wasn't the man so much as it was what the man represented, an overbearing, nanny government run amok. Sure, the various secret security agencies of the United States had very valid jobs to do, to protect the interests and security of the country. And its citizens. Somehow that last part had gotten lost, trampled, forgotten. It had become more about the government than those citizens it had collectively taken an oath to protect. “I'm sorry, Agent Mooreland, excuse me if I don't jump up to shake your hand, salute the flag and congratulate you for putting my daughter's life in danger.”
Doug Moorland dropped his hand to his side, deciding to change his approach. “And I'm sorry about that Mr. Steele,” he nodded at Lynette, “Mrs. Steele. That was not our intention; we were trying to protect her...”
“Against what?” Kyle snapped, “She was hiding from you!”
“No sir, she was hiding from the Russian,” countered Mooreland. “Restonovich is in custody and his men are dead.”
Kyle knew
that wasn't the whole truth, he could feel it, but the agent didn't have any tells that Kyle could spot. Yet. “Go on...” he prompted.
“Well after the fight we looked for her but she and her friend had disappeared. We're not sure how, or where they went, so we kept an eye on the house in case she came back so we could tell her she was safe...”
And there it was. His eyes went up and to the left, briefly, then they were centered again. He was a good liar, or more correctly, a trained liar. He decided to test the agent again. “And since you couldn't find her, you thoroughly bugged the house and let yourselves in on a regular basis to search the house for the girls and the equipment.” And there it was again. This time his eyes flicked down to the right before going up and left, telling Kyle he had an internal dialogue with himself before speaking his lie.
“We didn't bug the house; it must've been the Russians...”
“Sure... ” Kyle interrupted, standing up. He unfolded his six foot two inch frame, tucking the stainless revolver in the back of his jeans. “And I'm the Easter Bunny.” He pointed to the beach, “Go pound sand, before I decide to pound on something else.”
The agents backed down the stairs, “A little sophomoric, don't you think?” asked Pete Whitman. “We're here, off the record, to help you...”
Kyle couldn't help but laugh out loud, “Help? And just what would that look like? You people being so hell-bent on helping my daughter that she feels hunted? So afraid she has to call off-world for help? And your people shooting at the shore party that's picking her up..?” He saw Doug Moorland's eyebrows raise. “That's right, we saw the videos. All of them.” He advanced to the edge of the deck, fists clenched. Even at the age of sixty-two he had cabled arms like hefty tree limbs.
“Wait a minute, we thought she was being abducted, we were trying to rescue her...”
Kyle shot a look at Whitman, “You should let him talk,” he growled, pointing at Doug Mooreland, “he's a much better liar than you are.” His eyes narrowed, shifting back to Mooreland, “National Security doesn't give you clowns carte blanche...”
“I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Steele,” interrupted Doug Mooreland, “but yes, it actually does. Your daughter was sending and receiving communication signals from space. We still don't know how she did it, what she used or what the communications were. But she got on a UFO... a space ship, for God's sake. The fact that you accept that as some kind of normalcy is disturbing. We need to know what that all means for the security and safety of this nation. And until we can figure that out, you can expect us to be around. A lot. We don't know if you and your wife are involved or not, so thank whatever God you worship that you haven't been detained. Because we can do that. And we can freeze assets, pensions, Social Security and properties if we want to...”
Kyle scowled; he wanted to simply pop the guy's head like a grape. “Unlawful imprisonment and government sanctioned legal theft. How nice, your mother must be so proud of you...” he backed away not taking his eyes off them. “Stay away from us if you want to make your next birthday. Oh, and you might want to watch the news tonight...”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FREEDOM, NEW VANUS SYSTEM: ON THE ROAD AGAIN
Jack was glad to be back aboard the Freedom and under way again, he wasn't cut out to be a station administrator. He figured a few more weeks of that and he would have been thinking about eating the business end of his .45.
In the Starlight Lounge, the thin man, Odello and his thug, Hughard, had been paid a visit by the new station administrator... accompanied by a supporting cast of armed Marines. Jack would've liked to have been a fly on the wall for that meeting. After a thorough review of his application for the lease, it was decided that Odello was not a good fit in the new station and his lease was revoked. The thin man and his cohort lost their sizable deposit on the nightclub and were immediately escorted off the station, instructed to never return again. Odello wasn't happy but then again he wasn't arguing either... After all, they were kind enough to offer him a generous choice - airlock or shuttle. Being a man of infinite wisdom, he chose the shuttle.
It looked like the wreck of the pirate frigate would be nearly consumed in the aggressive salvaging of useful parts, plating, workable systems, and material. Unfortunately, the GOD drive was not in the best shape, seriously damaged in the fight. A huge disappointment, Jack ordered it aboard the Freedom anyway, hoping Hecken Noer would get a chance to examine it and become familiar with the technology.
The additional personnel flooding into the new station began to fill the critical roles. It would be the Administrator's duty to make sure the proper staffing would cover all the different facets required to keep the station running, maintained and defended. To that end, in light of her excellent work with the logic programming and testing of the fighter drone fleet, the station's new administrator offered Maria a permanent position as the Fleet Air Boss, working with the station's new Air Boss. A major slew of programming improvements in tactics wasn't the only thing she'd accomplished. By having the mechanics remove weapon systems and add extra fuel capacity, she designed sensor scouts with extended flight time and reach. Another unarmed version was created and fitted with a signal relay beacon. This eliminated the need for the vulnerable, stationary relay beacons manually placed around the system. This allowed Flight Control to extend the fighters' reach literally anywhere in the system by redirecting the relay drones to a new area. With a bay the size of the station's, an organized team could launch about two-hundred-fifty drones in an hour. A formidable flight.
Jack pushed away from the desk in his ready room and laid his e-Pad down, temporarily abandoning his notes for a break. Walking around to the chart table, he ran his fingers through his hair and called up their current sector, zooming out to see the gates to their destination, Veloria. Staring at the chart, his mind wandered. He wasn't sure how he felt about Maria's decision, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. “What do you think, dog?”
Reclined on the couch, Fritz lifted his head, listening, his ears rotating. “About what?” he enunciated slowly.
“About Maria...” he said, staring at the holo-chart.
“What you think...” replied the dog slowly, slyly answering a question with another question.
Steele smiled, glancing at the Shepherd whose head was tilted to one side. “That's real good, buddy. When did you start studying psychology with the Professor?” The Shepherd just shook his head, his tongue hanging out in a curious grin. The Captain looked back to the chart and traced his finger on the holographic line to the disconnected planet. He didn't like being sidetracked on this mission, he could only hope the station capture was worth the loss of time.
The door from the bridge chimed. “Enter,” he called.
The door swished open, sliding into the wall and Maria Arroyo stepped into the ready room in civilian clothes. “Sir?”
“Have a seat,” he motioned to the chair in front of his desk and they crossed paths as he went around behind his desk to sit down. He picked up his e-Pad and paged through Professor Edgars' notes before laying it back down. “So, how're you doing?”
She sat upright, her feet flat on the floor, her hands resting in her lap. “OK,” she replied flatly.
“The meetings with the Professor going alright?”
“Yes, just fine.” Her demeanor was cool, calm, measured.
He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. “Y'know, you did a really amazing job on the drones. I'm very impressed.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, a small curl at the corner of her mouth. “I'm pretty proud of it...”
“And you should be,” offered Jack, “it was some breakthrough stuff.” He leaned back, “Impressed the hell out of the new station admin...” He was quiet for a moment. “I thought you might actually take the position.”
“I thought about it,” she admitted, “for about a minute.” She seemed to relax a little. “No, this is home... and this is my family.”
“Glad to hear it.
” nodded Jack. He dumped the contents of a small envelope onto the desk in front of her, her rank pips and gold flight wings sliding out onto the surface. She stared at them, unmoving. “You ready to go back to work?” he asked.
Maria blinked, still staring at them. “You mean it?” She picked them up and moved them around in the palm of her hand with her index finger.
“As long as you're ready, you're in uniform as of now and I'll have Pappy put you on the roster.”
She rose rather suddenly, her hand clenched tightly around the bits of gold, eyes welling with tears. She blinked them back. “I'm ready.” She looked like she was going to burst with excitement.
“Good, I'll let Pappy know.” Jack stood and moved casually around the desk. “He'll probably be keeping an eye on you for awhile...”
“That's OK,” she said quickly. “I won't let you down, Jack. I promise.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly, “I'm sorry...” she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. When she unclenched, she darted out the door barely clearing the opening as the door slid open automatically, running through the bridge and down the corridor like an exuberant child with a new toy.
“Escited...” commented Fritz, mispronouncing the x.
Steele stood there looking at the open empty doorway as it slid closed. “Yeah, I guess so!”
■ ■ ■
“Captain, two minutes to the gate...”
Jack keyed the mic on his earpiece. “On my way.” He stepped away from the holo-chart and headed for the door, passing through to the bridge, Fritz dropping off the couch and trotting along behind him. Pausing next to Walt Edgars' chair, Jack patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for working with Marie, Professor,” he said quietly.
“My pleasure...”
Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Page 21
