Thermals

by Evan Currie

  “Fallacy.” Gwen said simply, not looking up.

  “What?”

  “It’s a fallacy that altitude has anything to do with it.” She said, “You hit terminal velocity in free fall at about fifty-five meters per second. Five hundred feet or Fifty thousand, it’s the same thing to physics, the only difference is how long you have to enjoy the view.”

  “Yeah well, he still hit damned hard.” Anselm rolled his eyes.

  “The plastic was working like a drogue, and he wasn’t conscious when he hit…” Gwen told him, “Under the circumstances, that was his best chance at survival. He didn’t stiffen up, so his legs took the damage.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Anselm told her as he finished checking Somer’s upper body. “I don’t think he’s bleeding internally, but I’d like a professional opinion on that…”

  “Chopper will be here in less than fifteen minutes,” she said instantly. “That’s the best they can do.”

  Anselm cursed but nodded as he checked Ron’s arms, wincing as he found the first break. “Man, if he makes it I do not envy him the pain his recovery time is going to inflict.”

  “If he makes it he’ll be bloody well lucky to experience any pain at all.” Gwen growled, "Damn fool thing to do, gallivanting around the thermals without proper gear. He should have had a cold suit, at the very least. You don’t strictly need a vacuum suit up that high if you have air, but you should at least dress warm.”

  Anselm looked at the flimsy skydiver gear the man wore, well, flimsy in comparison to what he should have had, and was forced to agree. He paused before saying so, however, when he found Somer’s hand locked in a death grip around a piece of electronics.

  “What’s this?” He asked as he pried the fingers off the cracked plastic one by one.

  “It’s an altimeter,” she said, looking over.

  Anselm looked at it for a moment, punching the ‘on’ button but the OLED display remained dead so he just pocketed it instead.

  “Find something?”

  “Don’t know. Check it out when I get the chance,” he told her. “You done?”

  Gwen nodded, “Best I can do.”

  “Alright. Help me hook up your Emergency Response Unit to him and we’ll take turns watching him until the chopper arrives.”

  “Right on.”

  They moved quickly, attaching the ERU to the injured man’s chest and quickly turning it on. Developed specifically for First Responder Units, the Emergency Response Unit monitored the patient constantly, applying CPR automatically if needed, as well as oxygen, defibrillation, and other emergency lifesaving protocols.

  Once the ERU was attached, there was nothing to do but sit and wait.

  *****

  Abdallah Amir didn’t look up from his lab computer when Jacob walked in, he didn’t care what the other man had to say, at the moment. What he was doing was too important.

  “Amir, they found the Thermie.”

  Abdallah sighed, sliding the binocular extension arm of his microscope away. “And this affects me, how?”

  “His name was Ronald Somer,” Jacob said. “His wife is an Interpol Inspector. They were here on their honeymoon.”

  Amir froze in mid-motion, his hand inches from the sealed container he had been studying. When he spoke his voice was cold as ice, “Say that again.”

  “His wife is an Interpol Inspector.” Jacob communicated the important information a second time.

  Abdallah grimaced, pushing himself away from his work, his hands clenching into fists.

  “What happened?” He demanded, turning around and glaring at the large man.

  Jacob didn’t flinch, though he did pause a moment before speaking. “We don’t know yet. It’s possible it was an accident…”

  “What does that matter!?” Amir blasted, “Interpol will be all over this either way! They send in an agent and one of their own gets killed the same day!?”

  “He wasn’t technically one of their own…”

  “He married an Inspector!” Amir growled, “That makes him Interpol as far as this is concerned.”

  The terrorist growled, shaking his head. “God damn them. I don’t have time for this.”

  *****

  The helicopter had set down a short distance away, just moments ahead of the sudden influx of off-road vehicles that had arrived as part of the Shanty search effort.

  “Holy crap, Inspector!” One of the drivers of that effort chuckled as he looked at the battered squad car. “You did a real number on your car here.”

  “Don’t remind me, Don,” Gwen sighed, gesturing to Anselm. “Look, Anselm, why don’t you catch a ride with the chopper. It’ll take Somer back to the Project. They have a good hospital there…I’m sure that his wife would appreciate having a fellow Interpol Officer around.”

  “What about you?” Anselm asked, nodding in agreement.

  “I’ll stay here,” she sighed, jerking a thumb at her car. “I need to arrange a tow for the Eliica, anyway.”

  Anselm shot her a wry smile. “Good luck with that.”

  She flashed him what may have been a rude gesture as Anselm hooked a hand into the side of the chopper and climbed aboard. One of the para-medics tossed him a helmet, which he put on.

  “Get us out of here!” He told them.

  “On our way.” The pilot returned over the helmet communications system, powering up the engine and easing up the collective.

  The roar of the chopper flooded out all sound as the big Black Hawk lifted off, leaning into the turn, and accelerated away toward the distant tower.

  *****

  Inspector Adrienne Somer was waiting when the chopper landed, but Anselm intercepted her and held her back as the para-medics rushed him off the chopper and into the medical facilities.

  “Let me go!” She yelled, and Anselm could see where her eyes were still red from crying earlier.

  She wasn’t crying now, though, she was focused on getting past him.

  “Adrienne…Let them do their job…Adrienne…Inspector!”

  That last cracked out like an order and froze her for a moment as the medics completed their jobs and vanished from sight. She looked after them, face stricken and shaking.

  “There’s nothing you can do just now. Let the doctors do their best for him.” Anselm told her, hooking an arm around her shoulders and turning to follow the paramedics into the hospital facility.

  “I don’t…this can’t…” Adrienne was shaking now, a reaction that Anselm was used to. She was dropping off the adrenaline surge that had hit her body when she was worried about her husband, now that she knew what had happened and didn’t need to be on alert anymore. The result was the shakes, and he figured that she’d be like that for a while.

  “Come on, let’s get a cup of tea while we wait, alright?” He suggested as they walked the neutral two-tone corridors of the hospital facility.

  She nodded dully and Anselm caught the eye of a nurse and made a gesture toward his mouth like he was drinking. She pointed around a corner, her eyes watching Mrs. Somer with concern. The by-play went unnoticed by Adrienne Somer, as Anselm guided her around the corner and toward the vending machines that sat against the far wall.

  He sighed, figuring that it was too much to hope for, to get real tea, but decided that this would do. There was something automatically healing about cupping a warm mug in your hand while you worried about something else. He paid the machine for the drinks, noting that the plastic cups they had here were both large and sported a nice strong handle, and brought them over to where Adrienne was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs.

  “I don’t understand…” She whispered, “Ron was always doing this sort of thing…He knew to be careful, he was careful… How could this happen?”

  “I don’t know, Adrienne.” Anselm confessed, wrapping her hands around the first mug while he sat next to her and gripped his own.

  “How is he?” She asked, sounding like she was afraid of the answer.<
br />
  Anselm didn’t blame her.

  “Alive.” He said, “I can’t say more than that. We’ll have to wait.”

  She nodded dully, slowly sipping at the tea in her hands.

  Anselm noted the silence that fell only a few minutes after both of them had stopped speaking, but didn’t break it, when he did notice. As the silence deepened, he saw that Adrienne was lost entirely in her own world right now and sighed softly in response. He was no good at this, there should be family members or friends or something here to do the sitting thing.

  He shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable in the padded seat, and was abruptly made aware of the weight in his pocket. He fished it out, remembering that he’d pocketed Ron’s altimeter when he’d taken from the man’s hands. Mostly, he’d done so simply to avoid losing any evidence, as whatever strap had once been used to secure it to Somer’s harness must have snapped in the fall. But since he now had it he might as well check it out.

  The OLED display still wasn’t lighting up, which was odd. OLED technology was a lot tougher than the LCD displays it had replaced, and it didn’t crack the way it used to happen with LCD screens. Anselm pulled out his portable and flipped it open with a casual twist of his wrist, then tapped in the serial number on the back of the altimeter and did a search.

  Ah.

  That’s what he wanted to know. The Altimeter had a wireless option for programming, as most of the tiny electronics did of late. If it still had power, then he could probably mirror the display on his portable. He checked the battery, flipped open his portable and linked into the system remotely.

  Anselm frowned.

  That couldn’t be right.

  The mirror display on his portable read out as over two kilometers below sea level. Ron Somer was an experienced para-sailor, he’d never have missed something that blatant.

  Maybe it was damaged in the fall, Anselm thought, tapping a command into his portable. A moment later the Altimeter’s self-diagnostic went by and returned a clean bill of health. Well hell.

  At this point Anselm was stymied. He was a counter terrorist specialist, not a computer tech, and there was something wrong here.

  “What’s that?”

  The dull voice startled Anselm for a moment, and he found himself looking over at Adrienne as she pulled herself out of her quiet little world and looked at him.

  He thought about lying, thought about just saying nothing, but finally decided to treat he like a professional colleague.

  “It’s Ron’s altimeter isn’t it?” She asked before he could speak.

  Anselm had to resist the urge to speak. Of course, she could always beat him to it and force him to treat her like a professional colleague.

  He nodded.

  “What’s wrong with it?” She asked.

  “I don’t know.” He told her honestly, not bringing up the details. “Probably damaged in the fall.”

  She nodded, “Oh.”

  “I’m going to mirror its software and shoot it over to a guy I know, though.” Anselm said, calling up his buddy list and opening a connection through the portable. “Just to be sure.”

  Adrienne nodded as the semi-circular screen lit up and a face peered out of it. “Selm? Izzat you? Do you have any idea what time it is!?”

  “Can it, Richie.” Anselm replied with an almost good-natured tone, “I’ve got some software from a Korningsworth Altimeter I want you to check out.”

  “Huh? What?”

  “Software. Mirrored from an altimeter. Check it out.” Anselm said slowly, more slowly than he needed to in fact, and the man on the other side bristled in response.

  “Christ, Selm, don’t you go getting uppity with me! It’s three AM here, for God’s sake!”

  “Just check the software and let me know what you find, ok?”

  The man nodded, “Fine. Look, what am I looking for?”

  “Just compare it to the Vee One point Oh version and see what changes have been made, if any.” Anselm told the man, “Then get back to me, ’k?”

  “’K.” The man sighed, blinking away his sleep and reaching for a contact lens case. “On it, Selm.”

  “Thanks.” Anselm said, shutting down the connection.

  Adrienne licked her lips, looking at Anselm. “You think someone did this to him?”

  “Maybe.” He admitted slowly, “I don’t know…but…”

  “But you don’t believe in coincidence. Right?”

  “Right.” He nodded.

  “Neither do I.” She said after a moment, taking a breath. “Agent Gunnar…If you find out someone did this to my husband…”

  “It’ll be handled.” He promised quietly.

  She shook her head, “No. I want to handle it.”

  “Inspector, that’s not a good idea.” Anselm shook his head, “Besides which, you will be needed here with Ron.”

  The blond looked stricken, caught between two desires. Anselm sympathized with her entirely, knowing that the desires were not only conflicting, but the desire for revenge was entirely more tempting than the desire to be by her injured husbands side. Revenge meant action, it meant more strength drawn from her will and her mind’s bag of tricks. It meant not having to face the long will-sapping hours of sitting by the side of a man who may not survive.

  “He’ll need you when he wakes up.” Anselm said softly.

  Adrienne remained silent for a time, then nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  *****

  “What is the status on the Interpol husband?” Abdallah Amir asked as he walked up behind Mr. Jacob.

  “Badly injured, but it appears that he will survive. Whether he will be able to walk again is another matter.”

  Amir grimaced, “Damn it.”

  “I didn’t know you cared, Amir.”

  “Of course I care. The only thing worse than a dead man, is a live martyr to bring every bleeding heart down on us like raining bricks.” Abdallah Amir growled, “This is an intolerable situation…Only days from the completion of the project, and now this…”

  “We have everything prepared, Amir…we could increase the time table.”

  “No.” Amir shook his head, “We can’t. We need the people inside the Project for that, and the celebration isn’t for four more days.”

  “We could force them to…”

  “How?” Amir demanded, “There are eighty thousand people in the outer ring of the city, how do you propose to force them? At best you would get a few thousand, while scattering the rest like untended sheep. No, they have to be lured in.”

  “I apologize, Amir.” Jacob said quietly.

  “Forget it.” Abdallah replied, shaking his head. “For now we’ll remain as we are and hope that this blows over. Find out what happened to that Interpol man, Jacob. I want to know if this is an obstacle set by God, or by man.”

  Jacob nodded.

  “And Jacob?”

  “Yes Amir?”

  “If it is an obstacle set by man, and not God…send that man to meet God.”

  “As you say, Amir.”

  Patience was a virtue, but Abdallah’s patience had practical limits.

  *****

  “Mrs. Somer?”

  “That’s me.” Adrienne looked up at the nurse, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

  “Your husband is in the Intensive Care Unit now…If you’d like to see him…?”

  “Yes please.”

  The nurse smiled, “This way. The Doctor would like a word with you before you go in.”

  Adrienne nodded, and started off while Anselm caught the nurse’s attention.

  “Yes Sir?”

  “Excuse me, Nurse, but do you know where I can find the gear Mr. Somer was wearing when he came in?” Anselm asked, flashing his Interpol ID.

  *****

  Inspector Gwendolyn Dougal groaned in sympathy pains as her Eliica was yanked up hard by the tow rope they’d attached to one of the four-wheeler trucks, the patrol car twis
ting slightly under the pressure.

  “Sorry Gwen.” Donald Smitts grinned sympathetically, “Gotta do it.”

  “Yeah, I know Don. Thanks.”

  “Hey, no troubles. Right, Gwen?” The man shrugged, clapping his hands clean. “You’ve been out here for us other times, we’ll be here for you.”

  “Yeah, well…thanks anyway.” She smiled, rubbing the back of her head, ruffling up her red hair.

  Don Smitts just chuckled, “As you wish. You ready to move out?”

  “Just hang on a sec, ok? I want to make sure that we’ve cleared the scene,” she told him. “By tomorrow, if we get any wind, this place will just be another slice of the desert.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. Alright, me and Jackie will be waiting when you get back.”

  “Thanks.” She said again, walking over to where the para-sailor had struck, noting that the sun was starting to set.

  She didn’t have a lot of time, given that the dark out this far could be very dark and most of the four-wheelers had gone and taken their flood lights with them. Of the ones that were still here, few of the drivers would want to be sitting still while their batteries ran down for her.

  The impression in the ground where the man had struck was relatively small, but fairly deep. His legs had folded up under him, absorbing a lot of the energy, though breaking in the process. All around that indent were the light patterns in the sand where the memory plastic of the para-foil had rubbed the sand in one direction or another.

  She pulled out her flashlight and started to play the powerful light across the ground to counter the growing shadows.

  “Whatcha looking for?”

  Gwen started, almost jumping out of her skin as the young voice popped up behind her. “God Jackie, don’t do that!”

  Jackie Smitts grinned at her, shrugging in a manner that was probably supposed to be innocently endearing. Luckily, Gwen knew the girl too well to fall for that.

  “Sorry.”

  Gwen shook her head, “I’m just looking over the site before a wind comes up and wipes it.”

  “Looking for anything special?”

  “No, just making sure we didn’t miss anything.”

  “See anything?”

  Gwen smiled softly in the dimming light, but shook her head. “No, it looks like we got everything.”