Rex Chase: A Novel

by Tim Wheat

  “In addition to prime comfort, you can say goodbye to week long trips as well,” said Hoff. “My scientists and engineers have built a marvelous boat. By the way, don’t call it a ship. I guess landlubbers call submarines ships. They are boats. What I was going to say, though, was that when we reach full operational status, we will be able to make the trip from Boston in a little less than two days.”

  Doing the math in her head, Anelie spoke again.

  “That is one-hundred miles per hour, my darling. Could that even be possible under the sea?”

  “I’m assured that it is not just possible, but that my guys have built this vessel to do it. We are capable of twenty five knots on the surface, and fifteen knots under the water. Our engines, however, will never run out of energy. We have no batteries, and we have no diesel motors. This boat is self-contained.” Hoff said his piece like a proud father. “I am also assured that we are on the verge of unlocking even more of its capabilities. It seems that Dr. Sarff was on to a few things.”

  “He has always been a brilliant man. What more capabilities could this ship have?”

  Dietrich Hoff had a slight grin on his face, but decided to humor his wife.

  “Dr. Sarff had an initial theory that we believe is being proven correct, or will be soon. Once the calculations are able to be made, this vessel will be able to travel underwater at one-hundred miles per hour. It will be able to transition from the oceans to the skies. In theory, it will even be able to break the power of Earth’s gravity and leave this planet. We have built her in such a way, as to make all of that possible. Her angled panel design will reflect sonar transmissions away from the vessel and make us harder to pinpoint, but if things were to get very bad… Well, let’s just say, if things were to get bad we’ll also have some pretty powerful weapons backups.”

  Anelie had not heard any of this until just now, and the enormity of what he was telling her had left her with a look of awe.

  “How can this be possible? How can it fly, and be a submarine?”

  Smiling once again, Hoff obliged her.

  “My dearest, I don’t understand it all myself, and even the greatest minds in the world struggle to comprehend. It has come to my attention that there are maybe one or two men in the world who can get this math work done for me, and that one of them may have already done so. I have a representative out speaking with him right now.”

  Anelie knew what that meant, and expected the man to be stationed on the ship within a matter of hours. He would first be asked, and then he would be taken against his will. Though she had believed in their plan for all of these years, the presence of Angela Sarff had dulled her senses some.

  “I hope that all of these things you are saying are true, Dietrich, I do. Outer space sounds like a remarkable trip. It sounds like a vacation I believe we deserve. Would you join me in a toast?” Anelie Hoff lifted her glass, and touched it to Dietrich’s. “To our everlasting, undying devotion.”

  “Here, here,” he said.

  Perhaps he had forgotten her slight transgression.

  *******************

  44.

  Although he had ridden in the back of an Army International troop carrier before, the ride today seemed extra bumpy. Before leaving the camp, Hans had ordered all of the bodies be collected and loaded onto the other truck. The men had accepted the bloody job without question, and during the work Ahiga had learned much about the diminutive colonel.

  First, he learned that Hans was not a colonel at all. Most of the men believed that he had been in the German Army, but had either gotten out, or dishonorably discharged. His reputation was a fierce one, however, and the men seemed to fear him. George, though, did not.

  He had watched Hans with care as they had gone about their gruesome business. The sight of disfigured men, maggots infesting their wounds, had not caused him to bat an eye. George could tell that he had seen death before, and had noticed him whistling, a smile on his face.

  Ahiga had almost gotten used to the stench of the camp, and was now glad that he had left the bodies undisturbed. It seemed that these men were in quite a hurry, and that favored him. Hans had ordered them to look for the Professor, but George had buried him in such a way as to hide the grave. He was the singular person who would be able to find it again, and he hoped Angela would be pleased with the spot.

  He had carried the lifeless body of the professor almost a quarter of a mile across the camp, and down into the mineshaft. Crossing the piles of rubble he had blown from the ceiling before, he had gotten to the pillars and buried the man at their feet. George had touched the pillars again, careful not to touch both at once, and marveled at the heat they exuded. Though Sarff had explained it to him, he still didn’t understand how they worked, but he also didn’t relish the idea of being shocked again.

  The search for Sarff had lasted thirty minutes before Hans called it off. He and the commando/doctor believed Sarff had left in a functioning vehicle, and would turn up sooner or later. His expertise, though, didn’t seem to be of any concern to the two men. They were acting as if his disappearance was not going to hinder the success of their mission.

  George knew that Sarff had been very close to finishing his scalar weapon, but hadn’t realized that perhaps it was already functional. Though he had discharged the weapon, he knew that there must be a better way to use it than that. You couldn’t kill the operator every time you wanted to use it. Perhaps, though, Dietrich Hoff didn’t mind sacrificing a man per shot. By all accounts, he was a monster.

  They had been riding in the trucks for quite some time when George felt the vehicle lurch as it downshifted. Within a few minutes they came to a rest, and he heard both doors from the cab creak open and slam shut. Footsteps circled around to the back and the doctor threw open the green canvas covering.

  “Alright men, we have fifteen minutes before takeoff. I want you to remove the bodies from the other truck, and load them into the crates on the B17 to the north. Questions?”

  “Yes sir,” said the lieutenant. “It seems that we are in an aircraft hangar, and I cannot see the sun. Which way is north sir?”

  “Use a compass,” said the surgeon. “On the double.”

  The men exited the vehicle and each gathered a body from the other truck. George was glad to have the fallen commandos in body bags now. Carrying them was no longer such a bloody affair.

  “I don’t suppose anyone will think it’s odd with us just carrying around dead bodies, huh?” George spoke to another of the soldiers and received an almost cheerful reply.

  “Man, if there’s one thing I’ve heard about working for these guys, it’s not to ask questions. Hell, with what they’re paying us, I’ll carry dead bodies all day.”

  “Well, I, for one, don’t care too much for the body carrying business. At least they could have parked us right next to the plane where we’re loading them.”

  “Yeah, I think you pissed him off with that balls in the throat routine” another soldier chimed, as they walked. “You’ve got a big brass pair my man. That was some funny stuff.”

  The three men chuckled as they unloaded their cargo onto the plane. Some of the others were heading into the main terminal, and George assumed that they were using the restroom. He saw one man on a phone, and still a few others ambling about. None of them seemed too concerned about the job they had just completed, or that George had killed a man that morning. As he and the two other men exited the plane, he decided to glean some more information.

  “Anybody know where we are going in this behemoth?”

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither.”

  Both men replied to his question while shaking their heads.

  George needed to find out where they were going, and who was going where. Two of the massive planes were taking up the hangar, and he feared being on the wrong one. He had no intentions of letting Hans get away from him. The dark haired monster had to lead him to Hoff. His mind deciding what action to take next, George spl
it from his small group, and walked under the B17 which fired up its engines. Spotting Hans and the doctor having a heated discussion with another man, he decided to approach.

  “Hey fellas. We having a problem?”

  The glare he received from Hans was withering, and the doctor looked shocked that he would interject.

  “You’re darn right we have a problem. Your superior officers here seem to think that Uncle Sam gets free fuel. I’m here to tell you he does not.” The red faced man was beside himself with anger.

  Ahiga smiled an easy smile, put his arm around the man and began to walk away from the stunned pair.

  “I see you have a phone on the wall there. Can we make long distance calls on that phone?” George asked.

  “I suppose you want that for free too?” said the man.

  “I’ll make it worth your time. How much is a gallon of gas anyway?”

  “I charge twelve cents a gallon. We have a convenience fee of two cents to help pay the men who refuel the planes.”

  “OK, I’m going to give you a number, and I want you to dial it. When you are connected, tell the man on the other end your name, where money can be sent, and how much you need.”

  “You have this kind of authority?”

  George smiled and gave him the number. He turned to see Hans and the doctor still watching. Ahiga waved at them and gave them two thumbs up. Hans stared back, and seemed very unimpressed.

  George turned, and watched the red faced airport worker on the phone. He read numbers to the operator, and was then connected. When he realized who he was talking to, the color drained from his face.

  “Yes sir. Yes sir. I will sir. You have a good day too sir. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”

  Hanging up the phone, the man turned to face George, an awe inspired look on his face.

  “That was General Reagan. He said he would pay me twenty cents a gallon if that would be OK. I just have to agree to whatever it is you want me to do.”

  George had gambled, and it paid off.

  “First of all, what’s your name?”

  “Ralph.”

  “OK Ralph. Do you know where these planes are headed?”

  “The one on the right is fueled up for Boston. The one on the left is fueled up for San Francisco.”

  “Excellent. I need one more thing from you. I want you to get me a mechanic’s uniform and stash it in the bathroom. You need to do it right now, and it needs to fit me. I have to be able to move in it. OK?” George emphasized the last part. He had a feeling he was going to be doing some moving.

  “No problem. Do I need to talk to the other two again?”

  “No Ralph, you don’t. I’d suggest you never speak to them again. I’ll handle it. Have a nice day.”

  “You have a good one as well.”

  The two men shook hands, and George turned and walked back toward Hans and the doctor. As he neared the two men, a huge smile on his face, Ahiga held out his arms.

  “Well, that’s all taken care of. Where are we going now, boss?”

  Hans did not seem pleased at all, and the tone in his voice confirmed it.

  “We are not going anywhere. Who did you have him call?”

  “It was no big deal. I told him you had forgotten your purchasing papers, and put him in contact with a man I know. The U.S. Army will be picking up the tab on this one.”

  Though he was still angry, a slight smile curled the lips of the little man. It almost looked like a snarl, George noticed.

  “Well, Murphy, I don’t know how you did it, but nice job.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just pay him anyway?” George thought that maybe he had built a slight rapport and could use it to his advantage. Hans gave a menacing look to the doctor, who had a sheepish grin on his face.

  “Hey, I can’t be perfect all of the time. It seems that I left the company checkbook back in Boston.”

  He toed the ground with his foot, and drew a circle with it while he answered. George patted him on the back, and guffawed.

  “Man, the big boss won’t ever let you live that down. So, to Boston we go, huh, guys?”

  “No. The two of us will be flying to Boston. You will receive your orders from the pilot of the other plane when you get in the sky.”

  Hans’ reply was terse and then he walked away. George turned to the doctor.

  “Yikes, I bet he never gets laid.”

  “I believe you are correct there,” the doctor replied while laughing and patting George on the shoulder. “You did a nice job today, Murphy. I look forward to working with you again soon.” The doctor turned and was about to walk away when George shouted after him, above the din of the B17 engines.

  “So, Hans is a pilot?”

  “Are you kidding me?” the doctor turned to answer. “That moron couldn’t fly a paper airplane. I’m in charge of this big bird.”

  “A doctor, pilot, and commando,” George spoke to himself. “Quite the trifecta.”

  Moving with a purpose Ahiga made his way into the main terminal. He wouldn’t be flying to San Francisco today.

  ***

  Cursing to himself George Ahiga emerged from the bathroom in the terminal wearing a mechanics outfit that was at least two sizes too small. His arm movement was limited, and his back and chest looked as if they could burst through at any moment. Receiving stares from the cute receptionist, he decided to get to the hangar as fast as possible. The planes would be departing soon.

  Once in the hangar George saw that he had a problem. The B17 headed to Boston had already begun to make its way out. He had to be on that plane, though, and his mind raced for a solution. Picking up a wrench, and running full speed he made up the ground in seconds, and was able to get underneath the mammoth aircraft.

  He had remembered seeing something in his short time on the other plane, and hoped it was what he had thought. The plane was starting to pick up speed, now, as it crossed the threshold of the hangar. It wouldn’t be good for him to be seen, so George jumped onto one of the landing gear and climbed.

  The steel was cold, and his hands became numbed. Once he had a firm grasp on the landing gear assembly George looked for the hatch he hoped would be within his grasp. Underneath him, the runway zipped past at a tremendous pace, and he spotted what he was looking for.

  “No turning back now, Georgie boy,” he said to himself while getting focused on his task.

  The crescent wrench he had picked up was small, and he wished he would have grabbed another. He felt the plane leave the ground, and the cold air whipping past chilled him to his bones. Working at a feverish pace to open the small hatch, George knew he had seconds before the gear rose. Once that happened, he would be crushed in its assembly, or fall to his death.

  Above his head, the bolts on the small hatch did not want to give way. Thirty seconds went by, and then a minute. The plane was climbing now, and the wind chilled him to the bone. His entire body went numb, and George fumbled with the remaining bolts. One by one, and only because of his extreme strength, he was able to remove them, and just as the landing gear began to rise, pulled himself up into the plane.

  George fought to control his shivering as he took in his surroundings, and breathed a sigh of relief. He had come through the hatch out of sight from the pilot and copilot. The cabin, it seemed, was up a ladder toward the nose of the aircraft. A number of large crates and boxes scattered about the floor in the area, and he hid behind one, while assessing the situation. As long as Hans or the doctor didn’t come into the back, everything would be fine. He contemplated climbing into one of the larger boxes, but then ruled it out. It wouldn’t be good to disturb their state.

  “I’ll just head aft and get as far away from that cockpit as I can. This should be a nice ride across the country.” George muttered to himself. Just as he was starting to regain control of his shivering muscles, though, he felt the icy steel of a forty five caliber hand gun against the back of his neck, accompanied by a familiar voice.

  “Ticket, please.”


  *******************

  45.

  Chase had inspected the two aircraft, and knew where he could stow away without being detected on both. He just had to choose which plane would house the weasel, and be on it. It seemed an elementary decision, and he chose the plane filled with boxes. Though he had wondered what the boxes contained, he made the decision to leave them alone, just in case their keeper knew what exact condition they were in.

  Though the two planes were massive, stowing away in them was not going to be simple. If the weasel was a careful man, he would be inspecting every inch of the plane before takeoff. That would not bode well for Chase, and as he heard trucks approaching, he crouched in his position in the tail of the plane. It was a tight fit for the large man, and, clutching his forty five, he prepared to defend his position.

  Hours seemed to go by, but were minutes, before he heard the sound of the plane’s engines spooling. He cursed under his breath that he couldn’t confirm whether the weasel was there or not. Making a calculated decision, Chase decided to leave his hiding spot, and move forward to the main body of the plane, where the radio operator would be on station for a normal trip.

  As he approached, crawling on his belly, he noticed the bomb bay doors were open, and he could hear someone in the cockpit. Poking his head out of the main door of the aircraft, the area seemed to be clear, and Chase exited. The man in the pilot’s seat wasn’t the weasel, and Chase noticed the other plane’s engines were now spinning as well. With all the stealth he could muster, he ran to the other plane, swung himself in under the nose, and proceeded through the navigator’s area.

  At six feet four inches, and two hundred and thirty pounds, engineers hadn’t built the B17 for Rex Chase. Squeezing through the bomb bay catwalk, and through the open bomb bay, he came upon a scene that caused him to freeze in his tracks. Two men were loading body bags into the compartment just ahead, where the waist gunners would be, and Chase could hear them over the din.