Plot Line

by Alton Gansky

  Shackleton made eye contact with Ray then nodded. His guest had sensed the tension in the room. “Well,” he said standing. “It’s been a wonderful evening. I enjoyed dinner and the pie. I especially enjoyed the conversation. Next time, we’ll have you over to our place. My wife makes a wonderful meatloaf.”

  “That would be nice.” Ray rose from his chair. The others joined him. They drifted toward the front door. Shackleton said, “We’ve talked about some very important things tonight. If you have any questions, or want to talk more, let me know.”

  “I’ll do that, Dale,” Ray said. “I hope you won’t think us heathens or anything.”

  “Not at all. Spiritual matters require thought.”

  Shackleton took his leave.

  In the kitchen Ray, Nora and Amy put the dishes in the dishwasher. Amy was quiet and withdrawn, moving about the work listlessly.

  “I thought your pastor was a pleasant man,” Nora placed the remaining pie in the refrigerator.

  “Smart, too,” Ray added. “Seemed to know what he was talking about. Not that I agree with everything he had to say.”

  Amy sighed, but said nothing.

  “What’s the matter, Skeeter?” Ray asked. “Did your old parents embarrass you?”

  Amy looked up from the counter she had been wiping. Ray could see a glistening sheen of tears. Her face was a shade redder than usual. Sadness washed over Ray. “I don’t think you took him seriously. You didn’t listen to what he said.”

  “We listened, Amy,” Nora said. “Religion is just a very personal thing.”

  “We’re not talking about religion, mom. We’re talking about faith. Depositing our trust in Christ. That’s different than religion.”

  “It’s all the same to me.” Nora’s words had an edge to them. Ray feared everything she would not say with Dale Shackleton in the house was about to be said now.

  “You couldn’t be more wrong,” Amy snapped.

  “Listen young lady,” Nora shot back. “Your grandfather shoved that faith stuff down my throat, but never swallowed any himself. It was a way of controlling other people, especially me. That’s all religion has ever been, a way to control other people.”

  “That’s not true, Mom!”

  “Enough, you two,” Ray said loudly. “Let’s not ruin a decent evening by squabbling.” He took Amy in his arms. She was on the verge of tears. “Listen, kiddo, your mother and I appreciate your concern for our souls. I know this was an important night for you, and I’m sorry if it didn’t go the way you planned, but few things in life do. We’re happy with your involvement in church. It has made a very positive difference in your life.”

  “It has, dad, it really has. I wish you could feel what I feel, understand what I understand.”

  “I know, Skeeter. When you first started going to the church, did your mother or I object?”

  “No.”

  “We’ve worked hard to rear you to be an independent thinker, to make good decisions. That’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you need to extend the same courtesy to us. You’re an individual and so are we. We all make life decisions. Yours is just a little different than ours.”

  Amy gently pulled away. “It’s not a little different, Dad. It’s very different. This isn’t about choosing a sports team to follow or who to vote for in the next election. This is about eternity. This is about God, the Creator of the universe. This is about accepting or ignoring what Jesus did on the cross. It’s not a little different—it makes all the difference in the world.” Amy walked from the kitchen.

  “That church sure has turned her head,” Nora said. “Maybe we should insist she stop going.”

  An unsettled feeling welled in Ray’s chest. He couldn’t say why, but he knew it was a bad idea. “Most kids her age do their best to ignore their parents. Her concern comes from love, not rebellion. If she wants to go to church, she should be allowed to go.”

  “Sometimes I think you’re too easy on her.”

  “Sometimes I think you’re too hard on her. She’s a great daughter. She deserves our love and support.”

  “I love her.”

  “I know you do,” Ray said. “Raising a child isn’t easy. Just about the time a parent gets it figured out, they’ve grown up and moved on. We need to enjoy her while we can.”

  “I suppose so,” Nora admitted.

  Ray stepped to his wife and gave her a long hug, and wondered what to do about Skeeter.

  Six

  “The general knows we’re here?” Devlin spoke with authority. He’d been on more military bases than he could count and dealt with high-ranking personnel more times than he could remember. It was important to immediately set an authoritative tone. No military commander liked a “suit” coming in and telling him what needed to be done.

  Devlin was indeed wearing a suit, a navy shadow-strip, straight cut Giorgio Sanetti, a blue silk tie and a white shirt. The fact he was one hundred and seventy feet underground made no difference to him. The suit was his uniform. From the soles of his black St. Paul Oxford shoes to the three-button suit-coat, Devlin was wearing over a thousand dollars on his body.

  Betty and Quinn were more casual. Quinn, ever the Californian, wore Nike sneakers, blue jeans, and a tan polo shirt. Betty was a woman with simple tastes wearing a black ankle-long cotton duster covering a simple gray pantsuit.

  “Yes, sir. The general was advised of your arrival.”

  Devlin glanced around the empty room as if to ask, “Well, where is he?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” Taylor was stone-faced.

  “He’s here right now,” came a gruff baritone voice from the doorway. General Ben McLain stormed into the conference room like a surging tide. All eyes turned to him. After shaking hands and making introductions, McLain said, “Let’s sit down and get to work. Since the Pentagon insisted you come, I assume they’ve told you about our problem.”

  “I’ve been briefed,” Devlin said. “Has anything changed in the last six hours?”

  “We haven’t found him, if that’s what you mean, Mr. Chambers. We have helicopters searching the area but they’ve come up empty handed. As you know, there’s very little topside but dirt and more dirt. This facility is located here for two reasons: Existing underground caves and the absence of towns and highways. If Dr. Rehnquist left the base, he’s not going to get very far. He’ll die in the desert.”

  “Could he have commandeered a car?” Betty asked.

  “Every vehicle associated with the place is accounted for as well as every car, truck, helicopter, and motorcycle that has come close to the base. We run a tight operation here.”

  “What about his home?” Quinn asked.

  McLain glowered. “Yes, we even thought to check his home. The scientists that work here do so for four weeks at a time. They can’t leave the base. We provide everything they need.”

  “If Dr. Lindquist is not outside, then he must be inside. Yet, he hasn’t been found. How is that, General?”

  McLain leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes for a moment then spoke as a weary father would speak to a stubborn child. “This base is different from most underground facilities. It is largely natural and not dug from native rock. The walls are limestone, carved by countless years of erosion. Carlsbad Caverns, one of the largest caves of its type in the world is only twenty-two miles from here. Our country has scores of such caverns. This one has been kept secret. The only way we could do that successfully, was to use what nature provided and not bring in large, easy to identify equipment. Consequently, there are caverns connected to caverns, most are secured or unreachable, still many exists where a man, properly motivated, could hide.” He paused, then added, “We’ll find him.”

  “I have no doubt, General,” Devlin said, “but I have to assume the worst. It’s our job to presume Rehnquist has found a way out and, if so, he presents a real danger to your project and to certain persons in the Pentagon and Cong
ress.”

  McLain nodded reluctantly then conceded, “You have our support.”

  There was a heavy pause, sodden with tension. “How do they feel about all this?”

  McLain stared at Devlin as if he could pull back flesh and bone and peer right into his brain. A moment later he shifted his gaze to Quinn and Betty. “Such matters are on a need to know basis. This project has an above Top Secret classification.”

  “General,” Devlin said. “I know you received commands from the Pentagon to render any help we request. I also know you were informed of our security clearance.”

  “What about them,” McLain said nodding at Devlin’s associates.

  “They’ve been cleared and briefed. We are on the same team, General. We serve the same government, we have the same goals.”

  McLain exchanged a glance with Captain Taylor, then said flatly, “They’re unhappy.”

  “How unhappy?” Devlin pressed.

  “Controlled. No problems, but they’ve made their displeasure known.”

  “Can they help us?” Devlin asked.

  “I haven’t asked, they haven’t offered,” McLain admitted.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s our problem. We should be the ones to fix it.”

  “But they would help if we asked?”

  McLain nodded. “But if you know as much as you say you do, then you know how messy that could get.”

  “With all due respect, General McLain,” Devlin said. “We’re up to our necks in mess as it is. It can’t get much worse.”

  “It can get worse, Mr. Chambers. It can get far worse than you imagine.”

  Colin Rehnquist had moved from the electronics room. It had been difficult. Every corridor had at least one security camera trained on it. With the base on high security alert, Colin would not be able to walk ten paces before being surrounded by a half dozen armed guards looking to please their commander. So Colin had to be careful. His life depended on it.

  Circumstance dictated his decision. If he could not move where people normally traveled, then he would have to find a new way to get around. These weren’t new thoughts. Colin was a man of science, familiar with planning. His desire to escape had been nesting in him for months, so he had given it much thought. He went about his business as usual all the time studying his surroundings, learning, analyzing, and memorizing every door, every security camera, and every shift change. It took great mental discipline, but he had done it, committing much of the bases’ floor plan to memory. His security clearance allowed him access to nearly every area of the facility. Still there were holes in his knowledge, gaps that could not be filled by mere observation. To ask for blueprints would raise suspicion and there was enough of that going around.

  The room Colin had first hid in had been selected carefully. Not only was it out of the unblinking gaze of the security cameras, but it also adjoined the storeroom he was now in. In turn this storeroom was situated next to the mechanical room, separated only by a partition made of aluminum studs and drywall. The mechanical room was a large expanse filled with ventilation equipment, water heaters, air purifiers and dozens of other esoteric machines that kept the base habitable for humans. Ducts and pipes ran overhead, concealed by a drop ceiling composed of two-foot by four-foot sound absorbing panels hung from heavy wire. To make the underground facility less cave-like, ceilings had been hung in every room and office. Only in the corridors were pipes and vents visible.

  The storeroom was a repository for all things janitorial. Boxes of bathroom supplies were neatly stacked on metal shelves. In the corner of the room was a wheeled bucket with two mops, their handles leaning precariously against the unpainted drywall. Bottles of cleansers, bleach and floor wax lined the bottom shelf. Recessed into the ceiling was a fluorescent light fixture, which Colin, fearful light would bleed under the door drawing attention, refused to turn on. Instead, he used a small, pocket flashlight.

  Holding the flashlight in his mouth and moving quietly as possible, Colin cleared a vertical area from the shelves removing just enough contents and relocating them on the floor near the opposite wall to form a ladder. Before putting his weight on any part of the metal shelves, he cast the beam of light to the back edges verifying the shelf was securely attached to the partition. It was. Large bolts fastened the shelf’s metal uprights to the wall. The shelf would not budge. He had done this three times already, but he had to be sure. He was on the verge of panic. He had abandoned his post setting off a manhunt. There was no backing out now. Even if he walked into General McLain’s office and turned himself in, they wouldn’t forgive him. He didn’t know what they would do, but knowing what they could do terrified him.

  As he worked, images of them circulated in his brain like paper caught in a tornado. Slowly he raised his right foot and placed it on the first shelf. Taking hold of a higher shelf, he pulled himself up. The plan was simple in concept, but simple plans could go awry. He could not be too cautious. The set of shelves that now served as his ladder were two meters high leaving a space less than a meter between it and the suspended ceiling panels.

  Slowly, careful not to fall or to knock anything from the shelves, Colin climbed the improvised rungs. A small man, Colin was able to position himself on the top shelf. Lying on his back, the ceiling tiles hovered just a handful of centimeters away—so close he had to remove the pocket light from between his teeth.

  His heart rattled in the cage of his chest and he drew in bucketfuls of dusty, recycled air. Then, raising his hands, he pushed against one of the tiles. It came loose from its T-bar support. Pushing up, Colin was able to slide the panel back and over another tile. He looked up into the black inverted well that was the space between the ceiling and the cavern roof above. Directing the light into the black space, he saw what he had hoped to see, expected to see, needed to see. Square sheet metal ducts ran in long horizontal paths, like an endless train.

  He had no interest in the ducts. He had seen many television shows and movies where the hero makes his escape through a ventilation conduit, but Colin was too smart for that. Thin metal straps were attached to channels by sheet metal screws suspended the ducts. He might not be a large man, but the odds of the duct giving way under his weight were too great to risk. Besides, any movement in the duct would be heard throughout the base. It would be impossible to flee. He had two other problems. The pressure in the ducts was monitored. The engineers who maintained the environment in the underground base would immediately know if something were obstructing the airflow. No, escape through the air ducts would have to be left to people who wrote movie scripts. He needed something more practical.

  He saw what he was looking for: pipes. A series of eight, two-inch pipes ran horizontally just to Colin’s right. To his left was a large, six inch, cast iron waste pipe that ran from the restrooms on the upper levels. The large black pipe ran half the length of the base until it ended in a waste treatment area one hundred meters away. Colin wouldn’t be traveling far.

  It was slow and painful, but Colin had worked his way through the two by four-foot cavity left by the removed tile and took his footing on the waste pipe. The conduit was supported by the partitions that made up the various offices and rooms. It had the additional support of one-inch straps spaced every two meters. Using the straps to steady himself, Colin started his journey in darkness.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. He repeated the phrase, whispering just under his breath. So quiet were his words, he could barely hear them himself. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

  Colin was fearful. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his life.

  Seven

  The call had come at nine that evening. Ray was home alone, working on his novel.

  “Ray,” the caller said. “Pack for three days. A car will be there in ten minutes. You know the rules.�
�� The caller hung up.

  Ray recognized Devlin’s voice immediately. “So much for writing.”. Powering down his computer, Ray gathered a few clothes, toiletries, a book, and the laptop computer Devlin had given him. True to Devlin’s word, a car pulled arrived out front. He phoned his wife. “Business calls, kiddo. I’ll be gone two or three days.” Nora didn’t ask where he was going. They’d been through this situation several times before, but he had never been gone for more than a day. She knew not to ask questions. This was part of the job that paid them so well.

  A young man dressed in a sport coat, slacks and loafers helped Ray with his bag and then whisked him off to a small community airport in San Bernardino where a business jet awaited.

  The Lear jet flew east and Ray tried to track his location by watching for landmarks that glowed eerily under a full, ivory moon. The task proved impossible. He recognized the occasional city, but had no way of knowing if his guesses were correct. The wide expanse of sulfur yellow lights he saw an hour after take off could be Phoenix but every thing else was too remote to identify. He did know they were over the great southwest desert. That much he could see out the small windows of the plane.

  Ray settled in his seat and waited. He was alone in the passenger compartment. The Lear Jet could seat ten comfortably, making his isolation all the more real.

  The jet landed at a small airfield with a single runway. Of the two crew who flew the plane, only one exited the cockpit. He opened the cabin door, removed Ray’s bag and computer and walked down the steps to the tarmac. Ray followed. As he stepped from the cabin, he was engulfed by the great blackness of a desert night. The smell of juniper and scrub oak filled the air. A stiff, warm, dry breeze blew from the south. A low set of mountains was to the west, awash in moonlight. Overhead the black inverted bowl of night sky was bejeweled with stars, dimmed only slightly by the moon.

  “You look well,” a voice said. Ray turned and saw Devlin Chambers taking the bags from the co-pilot. “I trust your flight was a good one.”