“Josh! Where are you?” the Quechuan yelled as he ran to the room’s center.
“I’m in here, Samuel,” Turner replied coming out of the empty room next to Osama’s office.
“I take it that you didn’t find him.”
“I had him, but he gave me the slip.” Turner replied angrily. “This place must be honeycombed with passageways for a quick getaway. He ducked into here and then disappeared. He must be—” Turner stopped mid thought as he saw the grave look on his friend’s face. “What is it, Samuel?”
“We’ve got another problem, Josh. Maria and your dad are trapped on the Cumbre Vieja on La Palma. Maria called and said that the land slide had begun and they were stuck on a ledge above it. And that’s not the worst of it, Josh.”
“What Samuel?” he asked, fear rising in him.
“Your dad’s been shot by Burr. Maria says it’s serious and that he needs medical attention soon.”
“Let’s go,” Turner said as he, followed by Samuel, ran out of Osama’s office and down the corridor to the stairs.
“What about Osama?” Samuel asked as they bounded down the stairwell.
“To hell with him!” he replied forcefully. “We’ve done enough. Let the authorities deal with him.” As they hurried into the atrium, they ran into Saune and his men, who had just finished checking the rooms in the lower level.
“It’s good to see that you two are alright.” Captain Saune said relieved to see them in one piece. “The lower level is clear of resistance and so is the tunnel. The Marine Cobra took out almost all of Osama’s men and is hovering outside to provide support.”
“The upper level is clear, except for Osama. He's still somewhere in the facility. He must have hidden passageways in the building.” Turner said as the group made their way to the door of the control room. “We need to get to La Palma now, Captain. Maria and my father are in trouble. Can you take us there in the helicopter?” he asked as Samuel pounded on the door for Yashiro to let them in.
“No way, Josh. Osama’s henchmen made short work of the old Huey with a few rockets from their hand-held launchers. It’s completely scrapped,” he said as the Japanese scientist opened the door to the control room.
“Damn!” Turner yelled in frustration as they walked over to where Yashiro had been working to disable the Scalar weapon. “There’s got to be a way to get to them.”
“I’ve done all I can at this point,” said Yashiro, who had fashioned a bandage for his wounded arm out of his lab coat.
“I’ve succeeded in converting the weapon’s EM waves to an endothermic cold mode and have taken it as high as I dare go. Any higher and the field drains below won’t be able to handle the immense EM feedback. I’ve programmed the system to start a gradual reduction of the output levels until it shuts down. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, it should be completed in an hour or so,” he reported, pleased with the fact that he was finally able to contribute somehow.
“Nice work, Yashiro. It was a good thing we ran into you in the lava tube,” Turner said, his attention still focused on the plight of his father and Maria.
“Don’t worry about Osama, Josh,” Saune said, seeing the anguish in Turner’s eyes. “He’s not going anywhere and before long this place will be swarming with your Marines. We’ll flush him out soon enough.”
The VHF radio then crackled in their ears. “Captain, this is Sears. What is your situation? Over….”
“Colonel Sears, the facility is clear of active resistance and is secure. There is one combatant still hidden somewhere in the facility, but poses no threat at the moment. Over….” Saune reported.
Samuel whispered, “Don’t forget the three scientists I locked up in there,” he said, pointing to the chair still propped up against the supply room door.
“That’s good to hear, Captain.” Sears responded. “Major Zibrinski will be landing a squad of Marines within a few minutes. They are at your disposal.”
Pressing the transmit button, Turner cut in. “Colonel, this is Josh Turner. Could you have them land at the facility’s main gate area out front? We’ll meet them there. Over….”
“Affirmative, I will advise the Major to expect you. By the way, Mr. Turner, you and your associates did a nice job today. You have saved the lives of a lot of people with your efforts,” the Colonel said respectfully. “Sears, out….”
“I have an idea,” Turner said, his eyes brightening. “Let’s go, Samuel.”
“Uh-oh,” Samuel replied in usual fashion as they filed out of the control room’s doors and back down the corridor to the atrium. The team then exited the Bishamon facility, grateful to be leaving the place where so much death and destruction took place. Most importantly, they were grateful to still be alive.
The sun was descending over the Atlantic Ocean to the west as the CH-46 Sea Knight helicopter that was launched from the Hazleton loomed into view. Coming overhead, the big transport chopper descended gracefully. As it touched down on the rocky grounds of the main gate, it threw debris everywhere.
Turner and the other men waved in acknowledgment as the rear door to the aircraft opened. Fifteen fully-armed Marines hit the ground, quickly securing the perimeter and the now vacant guard shack.
A tough looking lieutenant made his way over to them, and Saune greeted the lieutenant with a handshake. The Marine lieutenant could see the weariness in Turner’s eyes along with the cuts and bruises adorning his face and head.
“Lieutenant, Captain Saune here can give you and your men a heads-up on what’s inside,” Turner yelled over the din of the Sea Knight’s twin rotor blades and roaring GE T58 turbo-shaft engines. “I need to speak to the pilot.”
“That will be Major Zibrinski, sir,” he yelled back.
Turner slapped him on the back, and then ran for the open rear door of the Sea Knight. He was still guarded by a Marine, who allowed him and Samuel access.
“We have visitors, Major,” the Marine medic standing at the rear of the CH-46 Sea Knight’s flight deck announced. He motioned to the two ragged looking men approaching from the rear of the craft.
“I’m expecting them, Lieutenant,” she replied, releasing her seat restraints and rising up from the pilot’s seat. She squeezed past the medic and entered the transport bay of the big chopper, greeting Turner with an extended hand. “Mr. Turner, I presume?” she asked as Turner shook her hand. “I’m Major Sidney Zibrinski. Colonel Sears told me to expect you.”
“Pleased to meet you, Major. This is Samuel Caberra,” he said, motioning to his Peruvian comrade who waved from the seat he had plopped into.
“If you don’t mind me saying, Mr. Turner, you look like hell. Would you like our medic to give you a go-over?” She asked, seeing the battle scars on Turner’s face from the last twenty-four hours of constant abuse.
“There’s no time for that, Major. I need a huge favor from you. Two of our people are trapped on the volcanic ridge on La Palma. One of them is my father and he's been shot. Can you help me?” he asked. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to try.
“Sorry, but no can do, Mr. Turner. I’ve got a group of Marines here that I’m responsible for,” she replied as the second CH-46 came into view from the cockpit window. It touched down ninety feet away from them.
The anxiety and turmoil that had accrued over the last day finally reached its zenith. Turner was weary, aching, and now distraught over his father and Maria. They held on precariously to life with only one chance for survival. Turner erupted in uncontrolled anger.
“Damn it, Major! We’ve been through hell the last twenty-four hours, putting our lives at risk in an effort to stop these madmen from washing out the entire east coast of the United States. Hell, we’re not even sure if we’ve stopped it in time. A lot of people are dead and more may die before this thing is over. My father is at risk of dying from a gunshot wound on that God-forsaken island just twenty minutes away, and you tell me, ‘no can do’?” He turned away and sat down next to Samuel, totally frust
rated and feeling utterly helpless.
As tough as Sid Zibrinski was, she couldn’t help but feel empathy for this man and what he had been through. She liked his attitude and figured she would have probably reacted the same way, so she decided he was gutsy enough to go out on a limb for.
“Let me run it past Colonel Sears, Mr. Turner,” she conceded, climbing back into the pilot’s seat. She put on the ANR flight intercom set and contacted her superior on the Cobra. She related Turner’s request to the colonel, who still hovered over the west flank of the Bishamon facility. Turner looked on in hopeful anticipation. He saw Zibrinski nodding in affirmation a few times, followed by her saying, “Yes, sir, will do, stand-by.” She motioned for Turner to put on her flight intercom set and said, “The colonel wants to speak with you.”
Putting on the headset and adjusting the boom mic, the Major gave him the thumbs-up.
“Go ahead, Colonel Sears; this is Turner,” he said, preparing for the disappointing response and the argument that would ensue.
“Mr. Turner, I’ve ordered Sid to comply with your request. There’s plenty of space on the other two Sea Knights for her Marines. I think that is the least we can do for all you and your companions have been through,” he responded. Turner’s heart jumped for joy at hearing the news. “I know there will be hell to pay for allowing this, but I’m willing to risk it. Tell Major Zibrinski I’ll radio the Hazleton and tell them you have engine problems and are heading back. That will give you ample time to do what you have to do on La Palma. Our hospital on the Hazleton can treat your father’s wounds.” He paused for a moment. “Mr. Turner, I have instructed the Major to abort the mission if the situation becomes too risky. Understood?”
“Yes, Colonel, and thank you,” Turner replied, adding, “I owe you a drink!”
“That’s the second offer I’ve had today,” he said, laughing as he spoke. “Go on, Turner, tell Sid to get going. The third Sea Knight is coming in now so we’re covered here. Sears, out….”
“Let’s go get your father and his friend, Mr. Turner.” Zibrinski said with a wink as she powered up the transport chopper’s GE turbines and hit the stow lever for the aft ramp. Turner smiled back gratefully as he stood up and made his way to the rear of the craft where Samuel still sat, sprawled over two chairs with his eyes shut.
“We’re on our way to La Palma to get Dad and Maria,” he announced happily, slapping his friend on the shoulder.
“It’s about time we got some amenities on this all-inclusive Canary Island vacation,” Samuel replied lazily. His eyes were closed, but he was still smiling.
The CH-46 Sea Knight rose skyward and banked to the west, leaving behind the Bishamon facility and its aura of death and mayhem behind. As they headed out over the Atlantic Ocean, Zibrinski could make out the tiny island of La Palma in the distance. She noted the ominous plume of ash rising from the high peaks. It was being carried off to the southwest by the wind currents.
The sun was almost below the horizon as they sped across the open expanse of water. No one on board could ever envision, in their wildest nightmares, the horrific act of nature they would soon experience.
***
Inside of the Bishamon control room, a large wall panel was pushed out from within. It fell to the floor as Yagato Osama stepped out from the hidden stairwell. It was one of many throughout the complex used for extreme situations such as this. Ruffled by his unexpected encounter with Turner, he had now regained his composure. While behind the wall, he overheard the conversation minutes earlier.
“Fuyuki, where are you?” he yelled abruptly. Looking around the dim, empty control room, he heard muffled voices and banging on the supply room door. He kicked the chair that was bracing the door and it opened to release three disheveled scientists, grateful to finally be set free.
“It’s over, Oyabun,” Fuyuki Seijun said in defeat. “They have managed to reverse the effects of the Scalar waves on La Palma. We must escape. Soon this place will be swarming with American soldiers,” he stated, his voice rising in panic.
“It is not over, Fuyuki. Begin the corrections on their meddling and continue with the process,” he roared. The three scientists quickly sat at the terminals and began to key new data into the program Yashiro had recently reversed.
“I was able to contact my helicopter at the airport, and have instructed him to arrive here in a few hours when it gets dark. We have a secure place to hide until then. Don’t worry,” he said calmly, pointing to the false wall. “We are not finished yet, Fuyuki. They will soon pay for their interference.”
34
Aboard the USS Hazleton, Captain Jason McKnight stood on the foredeck of his vessel smoking his pipe. As his ship sped through the calm waters of the Atlantic on its mission, in his mind he was going over all contingencies. As he studied the strange mushroom-shaped, black cloud in the distance, Lt. Commander Ewell came rushing down the steps to join him on the foredeck.
“Captain, the radio shack has Admiral Borland at COMLANTFLT on the horn again, and he wants to speak with you.” Mac calmly tapped his pipe on the deck railing and emptied its contents into the sea. He followed Ewell back up the steps and onto the bridge.
“What’s our distance to the Canaries?” he asked picking up the bridge’s red phone and covering the mouthpiece.
“The closest landfall is La Palma at eighteen nautical miles to the southwest, sir,” his first officer responded.
“McKnight here,” he barked into the phone. He knew that it was an admiral, but he didn’t care.
“Captain, this is Admiral Borland at COMLANTFLT. Have you anything new to report on the situation on Tenerife?” he asked gruffly.
“The CIC reported that Colonel Sears met with some weapons fire at the target zone, but the facility’s perimeter has been secured. The Sea Knights are touching down at this moment with Marine backup for the clean-up OPS,” Mac reported, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair.
“Has there been any report from the civilians on-site as to the status of the terrorist weapon?” Borland asked in a tone that bordered on frustration.
“No, Admiral. Nothing definitive since the report from Sears that said they were having some success. The civilians were supposed to give us the go, or no-go. As of now, we haven’t gotten an all-clear,” he replied.
“In the absence of any confirmation, Captain, I’ve got orders from the President to proceed with the Tomahawk strike. The guidance data has been satellite down-linked to the Milford for execution,” he stated. “The U.S. Geological has reported to the President that the La Palma volcano is erupting, and a partial slide on the western flank has occurred. Without any confirmation from the teams on-site as to the condition of the terrorist weapon, he has no other option than to eliminate the source of the weapon.”
“But Admiral, what about the—”
“Mac, I don’t like it either. But with the threat of that landslide possibly becoming a reality, the President has to act, and act now. You have your orders, Captain,” Borland snapped back at him. “Recall the teams at once and commence with the Tomahawk launch. The President wants that device neutralized ASAP.”
“Yes, sir,” Mac said in frustrated compliance, hanging up and then ringing the Combat Information Center.
“CIC: Lieutenant Minichino,” the voice said on the other end.
“Lieutenant, this is the Captain. I want you to recall the away teams and EVAC the civilians at once, then get me the Captain of the Milford. We have our orders to launch,” Mac barked over the phone, not happy about this turn of events.
“Aye, Captain,” the CIC Officer responded as the line went silent.
“Damned politicians,” he barked aloud to no one in particular as the bridge crew averted his gaze. He paused, staring out at the plume of smoke in the distance, assuming it was the ash cloud from the eruption on La Palma.
“I’m sure that it will work out fine, Captain,” Ewell said in an attempt to defuse his commanding officer.
<
br /> “I hope to God that they’re right about this,” he said to Ewell, who looked at him apprehensively.“Firing that Tomahawk now that we have almost secured that facility is like putting perfume on a pig, Commander. It’s still gonna wind up being ugly and smelly when it’s done,” he said, letting out a deep breath.
“Okay! Let’s get this show on the road,” he said in finality. “Commander, have the launch deck special detail stand-by to receive the away teams.”
“Yes Sir, Captain,” Ewell said, alerting the aft deck by way of its ship-wide intercom.
Mac walked back out of the wheelhouse and onto the open deck as the cool evening breeze blew across his weathered face. Looking at the ominous dark plume in the distance, he felt that something just wasn’t right. Something in the back of his mind was troubling him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. With that in his mind, he went back onto the bridge where Ewell awaited his orders.
“Commander Ewell, what is our current depth?” he asked his first officer, still gazing at the cloud to the southwest with a growing dread.
“We’re at only thirty-two fathoms, Captain,” he stated as Mac shot him a troubled look. “Chart room advised that we are crossing a volcanic undersea ridge that will give way to deeper water in about an hour,” he said quickly to put his skipper at ease. “We still have plenty of maneuvering room. Is there a problem, Captain?”
“I don’t know, Commander; there could be. I’m just covering my ass for all contingencies,” he answered slowly. Then it finally hit him; the reason for his growing anxiety. A sudden rush of learned experience and old seaman’s tales rushed through his mind as Ewell stared at his focused eyes.
“Captain, are you alright?”
“Commander,” he shot back with a forceful conviction, “I want all water-tight doors shut. Secure the launch well for heavy seas, and aweigh the special sea and anchor detail. Advise the Milford and Blakeslee to do so as well. Now,” he ordered.
Zero Point Page 29
