Mark Midway Box Set: Mark One, Mark Two, Mark Three, and Mark Four

by John Hindmarsh

“I can give you some painkillers,” offered Anna, reaching for the first-aid box.

  “No, thanks. I’ll be alright. After a couple of years I got a position on a larger motor yacht, Hammer, as their navigator. I didn’t know at the time that the yacht was owned by Cerberus.”

  Mark and the others were stunned by this revelation. For a moment silence reigned. At last, Niland spoke. “Cerberus? You worked for them on board their chairman’s yacht? Wow!”

  Reb grimaced. “Yes, it was a surprise to me when I started to realize who was who. Oh, none of the crew was supposed to know about Cerberus. A steward made a recording of a meeting of the senior American executives. I heard about it and he played it for me. Mark, you were mentioned. They wanted to get you into Cerberus. The steward was killed later, I heard, in a bar brawl of some kind. I think after that one or two new crewmembers were Cerberus.

  “Toward the end of last year, the Chairman must have been fearful of arrest. He told us we were to sail only to countries without an extradition treaty with the United States. In January we were heading to Morocco from Montenegro when the yacht was attacked. I thought the attackers were pirates. There were Chinese people involved. I could hear them shouting instructions in Mandarin; I can understand a few words. I thought I got away without them realizing; we were near the Spanish coast and I sailed my sailboard to Gibraltar. I don’t think anyone else managed to escape. There was a lot of shooting and the pirates blew up the yacht. As far as I know, they killed the Chairman.

  “After I reached Gibraltar, I needed new documents. My passport was on Hammer. I got a replacement and returned to London. After some thinking about my future, I decided to search for you. I had some information but not enough, so I contacted that Cerberus lady and she accessed their records and obtained more details for me. It took me a while to find this place, though. I had some very able assistance; the three children in London are capable hackers. They discovered you had moved to this property. Then I suppose the Chinese followed me, tracked my activities, but I don’t think they knew who I was trying to meet. Perhaps they realized I had survived their attack on Hammer and they wanted to eliminate a witness.”

  She stopped and looked at each of her audience. “Can I stay?”

  ~~~

  It was late afternoon before Mark was able to connect to Schmidt. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Schmidt, I’ve a problem building here. We had an unexpected visitor. She was shot and injured by someone in a Chinese Embassy vehicle. I’ll send you the video files. Our visitor’s injury is relatively minor but she might need to have it checked at a hospital. As soon as we take her to a doctor—it’s an obvious gunshot wound—we’ll be at risk. Oh, and I may have wounded one of the vehicle’s occupants. They left in a hurry.”

  “You’re on a roll. First a visit from a child welfare visitor and now a Chinese shooter.”

  “I don’t think the two events are connected.”

  “Yes, the probability is low, less than 20 percent. Send me all the images you have, including everything on the embassy vehicle. I’ll task my analysts to discover who they are. What about your visitor?”

  “She’s private.”

  “Hmm. I’ll explore the details with you, when we meet up.”

  “We’re worried the police may visit again. I expect them here tomorrow. I don’t think anyone will report the shots—there are always hunters out, around here. However, if the guy I shot is seriously hurt, his companions will take him to the local hospital. There’ll be a report to the police of a gunshot wound and after they investigate, they’ll end up here.”

  “Okay. I’ll get back to you later this evening with a detailed plan. Expect a support team to arrive in the morning. I’ll utilize Bravo Company from the 145th MP Battalion. They’ll see this as a challenge. You’ve met Major Dempsey. He’ll lead.”

  After ending the call, Mark turned to Reb. She was sitting next to Anna who was holding her hand. His sister’s face was pale; it was clear she was suffering from the gunshot wound. He asked, “You can cope until tomorrow? If your wound gets infected or the pain is too much, we’ll have to break cover.”

  “I—I think I can. It’s only a scrape.”

  Anna said, “You were fortunate. Any lower and it would have made a mess.”

  Reb nodded.

  Mark said, “I have to send off some image files to Schmidt. We can talk some more once I’ve done that.”

  ***

  Chapter 5

  The following morning everything seemed to happen at once. The intruder detection software blasted its warning only minutes after ten a.m., when everyone was in the workroom where Mark maintained all his video equipment. He was modifying the software controlling the two drones. Now that he knew how Reb had stopped the image transfers, he wanted to ensure it was impossible for anyone to block the cameras again.

  Reb held her head at the sudden sound. “Oh, do you have to make so much noise?” she complained.

  “We have visitors. There are police SUVs at the front gate,” replied Mark, after he checked the camera images. “I’d better call Schmidt.”

  The VoIP connection took less than ten seconds.

  Mark said, “Schmidt, good morning. Our local police force has returned. There’re three vehicles. They’re waiting at the gate for some reason.”

  “I have them on my screen, too. We use big drones, not little ones.” Schmidt smiled into his video camera. “Your police officers are about to get one helluva surprise. Bravo Company’s in the air and is minutes away. You should go outside and watch. You’ll be impressed.”

  Mark disconnected the call and looked at his companions. “I think we’ll play it safe and watch from here.” No one dissented.

  ~~~

  Major Dempsey, circling below the modified Army Hercules he had exited only seconds before, watched as each group from Bravo Company dropped from the rear of the aircraft. They tumbled out ten at a time, a total of fifty, their wingsuits catching the slipstream as the Hercules flew at eight thousand feet, just above stalling speed. The major had led their exit. The pressure of the slipstream filled and solidified his wingsuit, creating a platform that would allow him to fly for miles.

  Bravo Company formed up on their group leaders and the resulting V formations trailed Dempsey as he headed toward their destination. He was more than pleased with the professionalism of his Cerberus team. They were difficult to motivate and he was tested each day by their unique approach to discipline and duty. But this type of exercise appealed to their sense of adventure and they reveled in the challenge it provided.

  He checked his schedule in his helmet display. At this rate his small force would reach the target in under ten minutes. He planned for his men to arrive with no advance warning to the law enforcement team waiting at the gate to the small property. There would be no aircraft in sight, no engine noises, only the sudden and simultaneous landing of fifty wingsuited soldiers. Ten men—an advance party—were already in position. They had departed the aircraft earlier and he’d checked his heads-up display for confirmation of their arrival. They had landed before the appearance of the police and were monitoring events. They were now half-buried in the snow along the road leading to the entrance to the farm property, hidden from all but the most alert eyes.

  The experimental wingsuits, intended for Special Forces HALO tests, were an RDEz product. Somehow, General Schmidt had managed to divert a hundred or so of the suits to the 145th and Bravo Company had worked hard to develop a level of expertise in their use. The learning curve had been steep and for some, painful. Using the wings was far more hazardous than standard parachute jumping. The company had not experienced any fatalities in training, although three men had suffered broken limbs as a result of poorly judged landings. He expected they would make a full recovery. They were Cerberus, after all.

  To Dempsey’s surprise, the suits were proving to be very effective for low altitude jumps. The suit’s ability to support a gliding experience of at least five mi
les for every mile of height at exit provided his teams an excellent flying range. The suits had an experimental camouflage pattern of white and blue in random patches to help hide the soldiers as they dropped from the sky.

  Dempsey checked his helmet display. His current airspeed fluctuated around forty knots, the air temperature at ground zero was about 45 F and the temperature increased almost four degrees for every thousand feet of altitude lost as he descended into warmer air. It still felt as though it was freezing. Oxygen supply was not a problem as they dropped from the initial height of eight thousand feet.

  He checked progress against the flight plan. The flight computer indicated they now had an estimated flight time of less than five minutes. His men were in their intended formations, everything was proceeding to plan.

  He looked down, glorying in his near silent flight over farmlands and forests, across roads and rivers, all the while unobserved. Drifting chimney smoke outlined the wind direction. Tiny streams were frozen over, as were the small lakes. A river ribboned its way across the landscape. An occasional dog barked, seemingly aware of the fifty soldiers floating above the earth, and was chastised for raising false alarms. A cloudless, blue sky and morning sunshine promised a warm day.

  Dempsey wore an experimental ARG command helmet that provided augmented reality in layered projections of images and data superimposed on the real world. His men wore similar helmets, although they lacked the command features contained in his unit.

  The ARG’s small computer, modem, and battery pack were nestled in the small of Dempsey’s back, protected by his bulletproof jacket. The large bulbous visor covered most of his face, providing one-way vision with complete clarity, while preventing observers from seeing any projections. The complete ARG unit—visor, helmet, and computer—was controlled by the wearer’s mental impulses via a skullcap built into the helmet.

  The ARG units provided data feeds to the team of analysts and tacticians at Camp Brewer, Bravo Company’s base, and the supporting system enabled Dempsey to tap into any of those feeds to see or hear events across his command. Personnel at Camp Brewer reviewed, in real time, uploads of every action, every step, every sound transmitted from every helmet. They fed back tactical suggestions, analytic results, identification details, and other data in support of the mission. All the material would be available for his review and assessment when he returned to his base.

  RDEz had provided the ARG system for field-testing at Schmidt’s request. Dempsey knew the general was involved in the organization’s activities, but that involvement did not give him any cause for concern, because RDEz’s research teams were proving to be excellent inventors and innovators and were providing very advanced technology to the 145th.

  Almost to the second, as planned, Bravo Company started its final descent under wingsuit control; They would land without deploying parachutes. The soldiers, in a synchronized maneuver, turned into the light morning breeze, slowed to stalling speed to cancel the lift of their wings and dropped the final ten feet or so to the ground. One or two soldiers stumbled as they landed on uneven surfaces hidden under layers of snow and ice. They all had landed inside the property perimeter, with twenty soldiers on each side of the gate and the remainder at the gateway. Dempsey was in the center, facing the road.

  Three two-man units carried Hornet V “fire and forget” anti-tank missiles. Schmidt had expressed his concern that the police would bring in an MRAP-equipped SWAT team and had authorized the issue of the weapons. The missiles were live and the major hoped to end the day without authorizing their use. Common sense, he hoped, would prevail. They were here to persuade the local law enforcement officers to treat Midway and the other occupants of the farmhouse with respect and caution. Their intention was not to wreak havoc on the locals.

  Dempsey had landed closest to the gate. He peeled off his wingsuit to reveal his army uniform, with rank and service ribbons displayed. His soldiers copied his example, removing, folding, and placing their wingsuits to one side; they would retrieve them later. They were all dressed for the winter and snow conditions. While Dempsey was armed with a holstered pistol, his men carried short barrel UZI SMGs—not regulation military issue but a weapon they had found to be very suitable when deploying in wingsuits.

  The major stepped up to the gate. As he did so, he signaled his small escort team to stand back. By this time, five law enforcement officers had gathered at the entrance to the property with expressions of astonishment as they faced the men and women of Bravo Company. The officers wore militarized camouflage uniforms, bulletproof vests, and carried holstered handguns. One officer was using his radio and Dempsey listened via his augmented system, confirming the man was reporting Bravo Company’s arrival to his base. Dempsey then focused his attention on the officers, instructing his visor-mounted camera to take an image of each face and transmit it to Camp Brewer for identification.

  “Who’s in charge?” asked Dempsey as he reached the small group. He did not raise his helmet’s visor.

  “He is,” two of the younger officers replied in unison as they pointed at the man still using his radio.

  “And he is?”

  “Lieutenant Peter Harkness. He’s waiting for Corporal Cox to arrive with our MRAP so we can take down this gate,” one of the officers said.

  “You have a Mine Resistant Protected Vehicle for your SWAT team?”

  “A thirty-tonner.”

  As they spoke, Dempsey’s visor displayed the young officer’s identification and personal details. David Leary was twenty-eight, former US Navy, and had a Criminal Justice degree. He had been recruited by the Redmont Police Department four months prior and was a junior member of the force’s Containment Team. The ARG also displayed Leary’s height, weight, and naval service record, details which the major ignored. Redmont was about ten miles away and had a population of under a hundred thousand. Dempsey wondered why such a small city had need for a thirty-ton MRAP, equipment intended for aggressive warfare in Iraq and Afghanistan.

  “You won’t need it, David,” Dempsey said. “You have my assurance.”

  The officer appeared startled when Dempsey addressed him by name.

  Dempsey continued, “Can you ask Lt. Harkness to come talk to me? Tell him I’m Major Dempsey, 145th MP Battalion, and I’m here with my Bravo Company. We’re testing some of our equipment.”

  “Sure.” Leary walked over to Harkness. Dempsey watched as Leary interrupted his superior’s radio conversation. The highly sensitive directional microphones in the major’s helmet allowed him to hear every word.

  “Lieutenant, he says he’s an army major—they’re all MPs—and would like to speak with you. He says his Bravo Ccompany is using this property for testing their equipment.”

  “Very well. I’ll be there when I finish this call.”

  Harkness clicked on his radio and said, “Cox, the army is here and I’ll go talk with them. Get yourself here, ASAP.” He replaced the microphone, closed the door of his vehicle, and walked over to the gate. Behind him, the soldiers hidden along the snow bank, stood, dusted themselves off, and stepped onto the roadway. The police lieutenant stopped for a moment, shook his head as though in denial, and continued toward Dempsey.

  “Lieutenant Harkness,” Dempsey greeted the man. His helmet transmitted Harkness’s image as he spoke. “I’m Major Dempsey, 145th MP Battalion. Can we help you?”

  “I’m not sure. We want to enter this property and I’m waiting for our MRAP. We’ll take down this gate in seconds, once it gets here.”

  Dempsey checked the gate and confirmed Midway had shut down its electronic locks. He reached over and loosened the chains. “I don’t think your vehicle is necessary,” he said as he swung the gate inward. His purpose was not for the police to enter, but for some of his unit to exit the property.

  Two of his men—dog handlers—stepped aside to allow the gate to open wide and then they walked out onto the road, toward the group of police officers. The handlers and their dogs had jumpe
d together and the animals still displayed excitement from the drop. The dogs tugged at their leads as they sniffed at each police officer.

  Dempsey continued, “But I think you need more than a desire in order to enter army property.” He didn’t mention Schmidt had concluded a rental arrangement, for a very short period, for the house and land the prior evening.

  “We suspect someone committed a crime here yesterday,” protested Harkness. “My chief has instructed me to make inquiries and arrest whoever we find.”

  “Perhaps you can provide me with details.” Dempsey checked his helmet display; the dog handlers had made some discoveries. He heard them mention Cerberus to two of the officers. “But first—” He raised his voice, “Officer Johnson, Corporal Marchini.” Two police officers appeared startled. Dempsey continued, “Would you please join my dog handlers? I think you both know why. Surrender your weapons and badges to Leary.” The dogs had sniffed out the two men as Cerberus. The organization’s personnel records were incomplete and the two men had been omitted from Schmidt’s list of police officers with Cerberus-based genetic enhancements. “Apologies, Lieutenant. We need to have a discussion with these two. They’ll be coming with us, when we leave, I’m sure.”

  Harkness looked bewildered as his two of his team handed over their weapons to David Leary. He turned and watched as they then stood by the dog handlers. “What’s this? They’re two of my most experienced officers.” His voice rose. “What are you pulling?”

  “Assume they tendered their resignations, without notice. No, they’re not under arrest. They’re innocent of any wrongdoing. As I said, we want to talk to them. Now, tell me about this crime you’re investigating.”

  ***

  Chapter 6

  The roar of the huge SWAT vehicle as it approached interrupted the lieutenant’s attempt to answer. Dempsey watched its pace decrease and the engine noise increase as the driver down-shifted to bring the monster to a halt. It skidded on loose gravel and stopped just feet away from the now open gateway. Dempsey recognized the vehicle as a Buffalo six-wheeler, an ex-army MRAP, typical of the larger ones used in Iraq, weighing over sixty thousand pounds. It loomed, black and threatening, over the group at the gate, a prime example of the militarization of law enforcement organizations. Three heavily armed and armored SWAT team members alighted via the rear ramp, their faces reflecting astonishment at the presence of more than fifty soldiers. The driver opened his door and stuck his head out.