“Susan said she was feeling tired, so I told her to go take a nap before supper,” said Rebeca. “When I went to check on her, she was gone. At first, I thought it was a joke, so I checked around her room, but when I couldn’t find her, I began to panic. I tore the house apart looking for her. When she didn’t turn up anywhere, I called the police to report her missing.”
“Can I check her room?” asked Grant.
“Yes, of course.”
“Make sure you don’t touch anything,” warned the officer.
Grant nodded and made his way up to Susan’s room. The door was wide open. He stood in the doorway, looking around the room. Rebeca hadn’t exaggerated; everything from Susan’s bed to her dresser had been moved to one side during the frantic search to find her. He took one step inside and saw a couple of new pictures on her wall. Instead of a mountain, they were of an island. Like before, she had written the latitude and longitude on the drawings. Grant took a couple of pictures with his phone and forwarded them to the duty officer back at Gauntlet. He was about to leave the room when a thought occurred to him. He stopped and walked to the wall the alien was supposed to come through on Susan’s drawings. He placed his hand on the wall and pushed against it, trying to see if it moved. It didn’t budge an inch. Grant swore and ripped a picture from the wall. It was of the gray alien and Susan sitting in her room. He had seen enough. His blood began to boil. They had taken Susan, and he wasn’t going to rest until he had her back safely in the arms of her grandmother.
“Did you see what you wanted to?” asked Rebeca when Grant walked into the kitchen.
“The drawings of the island, when did she do those?”
“Yesterday. Why?”
Grant shook his head. “It’s probably nothing,” he lied, not wanting to divulge anything around the police officer.
A few minutes later, the police officer wrapped up his interview and promised to bring back a search party to help scour the countryside for Susan. Rebeca saw him out and fought back the tears as the cruiser drove off.
Grant’s phone buzzed. There was a text message for him. He opened it and read over the information sent to him by the duty officer.
“Anything of value?” asked Elena.
“Perhaps. The island Susan was drawing is called Bouvet Island, and it is probably the most remote island in the entire world.”
“Why would she draw that?” asked Rebeca, taking a seat at the table.
“I have no idea, but her last pictures sent us to a temple in the middle of a mountain in Bolivia. There has to be something on Bouvet Island she wants us to see.”
Rebeca’s lips trembled. “Will they give my granddaughter back to me?”
“I don’t know,” replied Elena. “The majority of people who report being abducted are gone for only a few hours. A couple of days at the most.”
“But what if she doesn’t come back? Then what? She’s all I have.”
Grant looked Rebeca straight in the eyes. “Ma’am, don’t you worry about that. I’m going to get your granddaughter back, no matter what it takes.”
“How?”
Grant held up his phone and called Gauntlet Headquarters. The duty officer answered the call. “Lieutenant, listen carefully to what I’m about to ask for.” When he was done, he looked over at Rebeca and smiled.
“Do you think they’ll give you everything you want?” she asked.
“Sure, why not? Once my boss lets the secretary of defense know what we found in Bolivia, he’ll probably sign off on anything.”
“I hope so, Mister Grant.”
“If he doesn’t, I’ll hire a boat and sail there myself. Please take me at my word. Susan is coming home to you, one way or another.”
Rebeca wiped the tears from her eyes. “I do believe you, Captain. And I feel sorry for anyone who gets in your way.”
32
The South Atlantic
Grant stood on the stairs leading to the cockpit of the four-engined C-5 Galaxy and watched as the pilot brought the large transport aircraft directly behind the KC-135 refueling plane. As soon as both planes were ready, the KC-135 extended its refueling arm and deftly maneuvered until the arm locked in place with a fuel receptor on the top of the C-5’s fuselage. Within seconds, the precious fuel began to flow from one aircraft to the other.
“I don’t know how you guys do it,” remarked Grant. “That’s some slick flying. I spill gas when I fill up my Jeep.”
“Practice makes perfect,” remarked the pilot.
“That’s two down,” said the co-pilot. “Two more until we land in São Paulo for some rest before flying back home.”
“How are your people doing down below?” asked the pilot.
“The Rangers are doing the smart thing and sleeping,” said Grant. “I think my people are too worked up to sleep.”
The navigator checked her notes. “Captain, we’ll be over Bouvet Island in approximately three hours. If you’re going to get any shuteye, now’s the time.”
“I’ll pass on your advice, but I don’t think any of my colleagues will sleep.” Grant waved at the flight crew, climbed down the ladder, and walked the length of the large aircraft to the back where his team was resting. Capable of carrying over seventy passengers, for this run, the plane was nearly empty. The nine-man Ranger squad was fast asleep, while Elena, Hayes, and Maclean sat together, chatting quietly.
“Anything new from back home?” he asked, joining them.
“This,” said Maclean, handing Grant a tablet. On it was an image of Bouvet Island. Almost entirely covered by a glacier, the island in the middle of the South Atlantic didn’t look particularly inviting.
“What am I looking for?”
“Enlarge the western side of the island.”
Grant zoomed in on the photo. His eyebrows shot upward. There was a ship beached not far from the island’s only inhabitants, a small Norwegian metrological station. “When did that appear?”
“It looks like it ran aground sometime during the night,” said Hayes.
“Colonel Andrews said they hadn’t had any luck reaching the Norwegians,” said Elena. “It would appear they’re experiencing communication problems.”
“Something tells me this isn’t coincidental,” said Grant.
“The Norwegian ambassador has asked us to check in with their people, to see if they’re all right,” said Maclean.
“We were planning on landing near their base, so I guess we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
“Speaking of that,” said Hayes. “Are you sure this plan of yours is going to work?”
Maclean patted Hayes on the back. “Cheer up, Professor. What could go wrong, jumping from a perfectly safe C-5 Galaxy onto a frozen rock with little or no chance of rescue if you were to seriously injure yourself on landing?”
“Those are my thoughts exactly.”
“Don’t worry; I’m the one who has to jump with you. Trust me; it’ll be another fantastic anecdote for that bestselling book you’ll never be allowed to write.”
“I just wish Captain Grant had discussed this with us before we boarded the plane.”
“Please, Jeremy, you would have objected, turned green, and vomited into a flight bag,” said Grant.
“Just like you did when he told you an hour into the flight,” added Maclean.
“This job isn’t paying me enough,” said Hayes.
“You’re telling me,” said Maclean. “Be honest, what else would you rather be doing right now?”
“Anything but this.”
“Enjoy the flight while you can,” said Grant. “We’re about three hours out from the drop zone.”
Hayes’ complexion paled. He stood and ran to the lavatory.
Grant felt for Hayes. The man was a scholar, not a soldier, but the threat the world was facing required a combination of both skills. Like it or not, Hayes had become a field operative.
“Jim, did you get a chance to complete your investigation into Hancock’s murder befo
re we departed?” asked Grant.
“Not really, but I did find out a couple of things for the colonel,” replied Maclean.
“Such as?”
“I watched the silent video feed from Hancock’s car several times before deciding to see if anyone in the office could read lips. And what do you know, I found someone. It turns out the younger sister of Corporal Kyle—one of our intelligence analysts—is deaf. She learned to lip read when she was a kid, so she and her sister could talk without anyone knowing what they were going on about.”
“Was she able to help?”
Maclean nodded. “Oh, yeah. The second Hancock lowered her window she told her contact that he was being set up.”
“So, she was a little more involved with Roth’s people than she let on.”
“You can say that. Hancock also asked him to kill her.”
“No!” blurted out Elena.
“Corporal Kyle was as shocked as you are, but she reviewed the video four times and never wavered from her original pronouncement. I know people will have a hard time believing it, but Technical Sergeant Hancock was just as fanatical as the men we encountered in Alaska.”
“What about the MP’s cars stalling? How did her contact do that?” asked Grant.
“That was easy to figure out. Hancock’s contact must have had an EMP device in his car. Many police forces around the globe are looking at using the technology to stop dangerous drivers from getting away during a high-speed pursuit. This one must have had a fifty-meter bubble. As soon as Captain Jones’ team entered the bubble, all of the electronics in their vehicles ceased to work.”
“Clever bugger.”
“You can say that again.”
“My head’s spinning,” said Elena. “I knew Hancock. She had been with Gauntlet for close to three years. I would never have suspected her of being a traitor.”
“That’s what made her the ideal conspirator,” said Maclean. “She was able to hide in plain sight.”
“Colonel Andrews is going to have to order an in-depth review of all personnel working for Gauntlet,” said Grant. “It won’t be easy, but if we want to be able to work in the shadows without continually having to look over our shoulders, a little intrusion into our private lives is a small price to pay.”
Hayes staggered back to join the group and took his seat.
Maclean tossed him a boxed lunch. “Hungry, Professor?”
Hayes shook his head. “I don’t think I could keep it down right now.”
“Suit yourself. The grub’s always better when the Air Force makes it.”
“Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?” said Staff Sergeant Wright, the Ranger squad leader, to Grant.
“Certainly,” Grant rose to his feet and motioned toward the back of the plane. The two men were dressed in identical camouflage uniforms, except for the missing rank and name tag on Grant’s. “What’s on your mind, Staff Sergeant?”
“Sir, my men and I were tasked on really short notice to act as close protection for you and your people. I’d like to be able to brief them on why we’re going to jump onto Bouvet Island, and if we are going to face any opposition when we land.”
Grant liked Wright. The man didn’t mince words. “Sergeant, I can’t get into the specifics of this mission, as it is classified well above both of our pay grades. What I can tell you is this assignment has national security implications, and I wouldn’t have asked for your help had I not thought we were going to run into trouble. Does that answer your questions?”
Wright nodded. “I guess that’s better than no answer.”
“Sergeant, we’re less than three hours out. You should use this time to prep your men for the jump.”
“I take it you want us out the door first.”
“That’s correct. As Mister Maclean and I will be jumping tandem with our civilian colleagues, we’ll jump right behind you.”
“Sir, is there anything you can tell me about the people we’re likely to run into down there?”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “They’re fanatical mercenaries from all over the world. I suspect all of them are ex-SOF personnel.”
“Rules of engagement?”
“Sergeant, you always have the inherent right of self-defense. This naturally extends to the civilian team members. If their lives are in danger, you and your men are authorized to use everything at your disposal up to, and including, deadly force to protect them.”
“Do we have to wait for the opposition to fire before we can fire back?”
“No. If they demonstrate hostile intent toward any team member, I expect your men to engage the enemy. Don’t forget, there’s a team of Norwegian scientists on the island, so make sure of your targets before firing.”
“I can live with those ROEs. What’s our extraction plan, sir?”
“The USS Farragut is currently making her way toward the island and should be close enough to launch her Sea-Hawk helicopters in about three days. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
Grant held out his hand. “See you on Bouvet Island.”
Wright shook Grant’s hand. “Hooah, sir.”
“How are you feeling?” Grant asked Elena as he securely snapped her harness into place on his tandem jump rig.
“I’m about ninety-five percent scared, and five percent excited,” she replied as he tightened the harness so she wouldn’t move around after they exited the plane.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be on the ground in no time.”
“What altitude are we jumping from?”
“About seven hundred meters.”
Elena grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a lot. Will that give the parachute plenty of time to open?”
“It’s more than plenty. Combat drops can be done safely from as low as one hundred and thirty meters.” Grant handed Elena her jump goggles and safety helmet to put on. She was dressed in a mix of warm, water-repellent clothes, as the temperature on the island wasn’t much above freezing.
A broad-shouldered staff sergeant joined the line of people waiting to jump. He took one look up and down the line before stepping to one side so he could observe everyone. Grant recognized the man by the badges on his uniform as a jumpmaster. The sergeant bellowed, “Hook up!”
The soldiers repeated the words of command as they attached their static lines to the jump cable running down the side of the aircraft.
“Check static lines,” ordered the jumpmaster.
Grant repeated the command and checked his line, and the line of the soldier directly in front of him.
“You’re good, boss,” said Maclean, standing behind Grant, with Hayes hooked onto his jump harness.
The next order was, “Check equipment.”
Grant made sure one last time that Elena was as snug as she could be.
“I’m really beginning to get nervous,” said Elena over her shoulder.
Grant patted her arm. “Just do as Jim and I told you, and this will be nothing more than a walk in the park.”
“Sound off for equipment check.”
One by one, from Staff Sergeant Wright at the door, all the way back to Maclean, the jumpers acknowledged that they were okay and ready to go.
Grant could feel the aircraft begin to slow as it approached the island. The side door opened, and a rush of bitterly cold air swept inside.
Wright moved to the open door and looked out. He turned his head and yelled, “Drop zone in sight.”
The familiar rush of fear and adrenaline surged through Grant’s body. He loved being a paratrooper, but each jump was different. Today was the first time he would be jumping tandem with anyone, but he had faith in his training and in the equipment they were using. His eyes fixed on the light above the door, waiting for it to change from red. Grant took a deep breath and readied himself.
The light turned green. The jumpmaster patted Wright on the shoulder. “Go!”
Without hesitating Wright jumped, followed by the rest of the men i
n his squad.
Grant and Elena shuffled behind the Ranger squad. They didn’t stop at the door, but simply jumped out. As she had been briefed, Elena pushed her head back into Grant’s chest, kept her feet tight together, and crossed her arms to stop them from flailing from side to side.
In his mind, Grant counted, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand. When he reached four, his parachute burst from his pack and deployed. Grant felt a tug on his body as the chute rapidly slowed their descent. He looked up to make sure his canopy had deployed correctly before reaching for the toggles to control his descent and forward movement. Grant saw the line of Rangers just below and steered toward them. The ice of the glacier covering the island raced up toward them. Grant picked a flat-looking spot and slowed the rate of his descent. Just before Elena’s feet were to touch down, he brought them to a near standstill. It was just like taking a step onto the glacier.
“How was that?” he asked.
Elena opened her eyes. “Are we on the ground?”
“Safe and sound.”
“Thank God for that. Let’s not do that again if we can help it.”
Grant unbuckled Elena from his harness and gave her a wink. He turned about to collect his parachute and spotted Hayes and Maclean, who had landed only a few meters away. Grant was surprised to see Hayes clapping his hands and doing a jig. He thought the man would have been catatonic after the jump.
“Sir, I’ve let our lift know that we’ve arrived without incident,” reported Wright.
“Thanks, Sergeant,” said Grant. “Get your men ready to head out. The Norwegian station is only about five hundred meters due west of our current location.”
Wright nodded and ran back to prepare his squad for an advance over the open terrain.
Grant looked around for the hardened equipment container that had been thrown from the plane right after Maclean jumped. He spotted the bright orange parachute and found the box jammed inside a small crevice. Grant jogged over, undid the hasps, and opened the box. Inside were his and Maclean’s weapons, NVGs, and other supplies.
“That jump was a hoot,” said Maclean with a chuckle.
The Founders Page 15
