The Skywalkers: A Thriller (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 5)

by JC Ryan

  He took another wild shot, this time showing that he’d deliberately missed Roy.

  But, by then, Joseph was begging him to please stop and blubbering that he’d try harder. Brideaux reloaded the magazine and said, “Okay, I’ll give you another 30 minutes. But Roy, you will really have to talk to Joseph. He has to move his ass or I will have to come back for more target practice in 30 minutes.”

  Daniel spoke up. “He needs something to stop the bleeding, you asshole, before he bleeds out.”

  Brideaux looked at him with contempt. “He’s not going to bleed out in half an hour. But if Joseph hasn’t made some progress by then, I’ll put some more holes in him and speed up the process.”

  Moaning, Roy still managed to shake his head at Daniel. There was no bargaining with a madman, and no use in getting himself shot, too.

  Somehow Joseph got control over his nerves and emotions and found the strength to go on. He ran another search, found the right text and started translating and writing it down. On the hour he had translated a huge chunk of it and Brideaux rewarded him by not shooting anyone. At the ninety minute mark, the lift door opened and five heavily armed men walked into the great hall.

  Brideaux greeted them happily, quite drunk by that time. He waved his glass vaguely in Roy’s direction and told one of them to see to his wound for now. The man had cleaned it and was wrapping it in sterile gauze when, five minutes before the two-hour mark, Joseph announced he was done.

  It took a little while longer for the men to read and understand the directions, and for Roy to give them directions for operating the robots. Once they were ready, though, entering the room, running the shutdown routine and removing the beast was surprisingly quick. They packed up all the computer equipment and took it out, leaving Brideaux to do as he wished with his prisoners.

  Brideaux had finished his bottle of cognac and started on another, celebrating his victory in style. Although still almost falling-down drunk, he staggered over to where Daniel sat on the floor and stood over him, reeling.

  “Goodbye my friend! Thank you for all your help to get this done. I could not have done this without your help.”

  Though his words were slurred, they burned into Daniel’s mind. If it was the last thing he did, Daniel would remember this and take his revenge – but Brideaux was still talking.

  “Now jus’ a few health tips for you as well, Dan’l. I’ll be in control of the worl’ soon. In fac’ I am awready. But it will be goo’ for you and your love-y Sarah and little Nicky to be goo’ ci’zens. I’m gonna be fair and jus’ king. Goo’ health, wealth, happiness and prosperity and a long life to ever’one. Don’ come after me. Don’ hate me. Just be nice and quiet and I leave you alone. All you mother otherfuckers here as well. Oh, I almos’ forgot. My guys are on their way to pick up those 10th and 8th Cycle Libraries a’ your place righ’ now. We jus’ can’t leave ‘em in your hands anymore. You guys are just not capable of managing it prop’ly – you fuckin idiots almos’ destroyed the worl’ twice ’cause you can’t manage it.”

  While he was rambling, Daniel caught JR’s eye and lifted his eyebrows. Had JR managed to get loose yet? They needed to rush this maniac while he was distracted. But JR shook his head. No way to get out of the cable ties.

  Brideaux was still making his speech. He’d put his gun hand over his heart, and was making some kind of pledge. “

  I promise I will protec’ it and make sure all that comes out of it will be used for the common good of all mankin’ an’, an’ womankin’ an’ you guys here. Sorry about you frien’ over there JR,” pointing to Robert's dead body, “ bu’ maybe he died to let you all know you don’ fuck around with me.”

  He turned to go. Daniel said, “John, you’ve won, but at least cut us loose.”

  Brideaux looked at him with surprise. “No, I don’ think so. Okay, goo’bye. I hope your lovely girls come and look for you and take you all home.” He turned to Joseph and said “Ol’timer, get your stuff and le’s go. You will be living with me for a while. I’ve decided to hire you.”

  Leaning on Joseph, he left, while Daniel shouted, “John Brideaux – I will have my revenge – in this life or the next.” Brideaux had one parting thing to say. “Dan’l. Dan’l my ol’ frien’ you din’ listen. Don’ hate me. This is for the goo’ of all mankin’.” Somehow, he regained his feet and clearer speech as the lift doors closed. The last thing Daniel heard was, “I have the same ideals as you. We are not that different.” Daniel didn’t respond. Even if he’d still been within earshot, he was not going to talk with this evil man anymore. It was not worth his breath.

  JR lifts his wounded hand in a wave and says, “We will see again John.”

  If John Brideaux knew what those words meant he would have killed JR and everyone else then and there but one and a half bottles of very expensive cognac have clouded his thinking.

  Meanwhile at the Rossler Foundation

  As soon as the call was over, the girls got moving again on their assignments.

  Most of the families of the selected Rabbit Hole coterie had been briefed as the Enigma plan was developed. A ‘phone tree’ except without the phones sent a cascading message to them that the time was at hand. Sarah delivered the message to the first family, who notified the next, who notified the next until everyone was ready. Now all she needed to do was gather Mark’s family and those of the other two ex-Marines and get them started.

  The plan had been simple until the extras were added. Each family would make its way to a rendezvous point where a large van would be waiting. They were staggered in different meeting points and at two or three hour intervals so as not to create suspicion.

  Since there were no more than two or three routes to the Rabbit Hole, and at least one was considered too far out of the way to be practical, they would stop in different towns along the way and wait to proceed at pre-determined intervals designed to keep them from becoming a convoy of white, unmarked vans that would surely attract notice. Once each group was delivered to within walking distance of the Rabbit Hole, the van driver would drive to the Billings airport and abandon the van, making his way to a place where the next one would pick him up – a different place each time. It was the best they could do, but it should work.

  Each family had been given a list of what to bring, allowing as much as practical, including keepsakes and children’s cherished toys, but leaving behind everything large and bulky. More than one woman mourned her Keurig coffee maker or a favorite piece of heirloom furniture, but they all understood the necessity. All cell phones and other electronic devices were collected and thrown in a bin to be destroyed.

  It would be like going into witness protection. There would be no contact with anyone left behind, ever. For the good of the Rabbit Hole Gang as one of them dubbed the group, as well as the good of friends and extended family left behind. The latter would be as safe as anyone, as long as they knew nothing of where the Rossler Foundation had gone.

  The last to be sent on their way were the Canyon rescue party’s families. They needed the most time, since they hadn’t been prepared ahead of time. Sarah was the most impressed with their discipline, though. When it came time to destroy the electronics, there were no protests from teenagers over their Gameboys and Playstations. In fact, they’d left them behind. She only hoped her mom and Aunt Sally had as easy a time of it with little Nick’s game. He loved that thing.

  Aaron was to drive the van that would take these families to the Rabbit Hole. Sarah stopped by to make sure he would be able to find it.

  “Don’t worry, Sis,” he said. “I’m good with a GPS.”

  “How did your mom and Grandma Bess take the news?” Sarah asked.

  “Mom’s good as long as Dad’s with her. And Grandma was amazing. She took her clothes and Grandpa’s ashes and nothing else. Said she was glad to leave all that clutter behind, because it just had to be dusted.”

  “I love your grandma,” Sarah said, smiling.

  Just then, the f
irst of the three ex-Marine families arrived and Sarah introduced Aaron as their driver. The two helped get the families settled and their possessions stowed, and Sarah hugged Aaron goodbye. She would be the last one out of the Foundation building if she had anything to say about it, and would be the one to pick him up after he abandoned the van. The two of them would have to hike for several miles to their final destination at the Rabbit Hole to throw off any followers.

  Back at the canyon

  With Brideaux and his gun gone, not to mention his henchmen, Daniel and JR had scooted together and managed to get their cable ties off. They were attending to JR’s hand and Roy’s wound when the doors slid open again. They froze. Had Brideaux changed his mind and come back to finish them off as well?

  JR recognized Mark first. “Hey, are we glad to see you guys!”

  Mark answered, “We heard you might have had some trouble. Where are the bad guys? We’ll take care of them.”

  “Gone,” Daniel answered. “You must have missed them by minutes. Did Sarah tell you what was here, what’s at stake?”

  “Yeah. I guess they got that beast thing, too?” Mark answered.

  “They did. We need to get out of here and get our people to safety.”

  “Already done, my friend. That’s one efficient wife you’ve got there. She told us to bring you to the Rabbit Hole, dead or alive. I assume you want to get there alive?”

  “That would be my choice. JR?”

  Daniel’s dry humor made the others laugh as JR answered, “Oh, I guess.”

  Then they sobered, remembering Robert. “He has no family here,” said JR. “His mom is in Australia. Should we take him with us?”

  Daniels voice was gentle as he made his regrets to his little brother. “We won’t be able to contact her, JR, and she won’t be able to come and get his body. I think it’s best we leave him here, outside in the canyon. We’ll bury him before we go.”

  Later, as they stood in a circle around the cairn that marked Robert’s grave, they swore again to avenge his death, sometime, somehow, even if they had to follow John Brideaux to hell to do it.

  “What’s the range on this thing?” Daniel asked, as the seven men climbed into the chopper. “And what the heck is it?”

  “This is one of the Lynx Mk9 choppers out of the UK that were modified for conditions in Iraq, back in 2010,” Mark answered. “A buddy of mine bought it when it was decommissioned, for use out here. He ferries actors from Flag to sites out in the desert for filming. Or, he used to. It belongs to the Rossler Foundation now.”

  “Cool!” exclaimed JR. Daniel supposed it didn’t matter. If they had no further use for it after this mission, it represented money they’d never use again anyway, probably.

  “So, what’s its range?” he asked again.

  “Oh, 400 miles or so, depending on weight. With our current load maybe 250,” Mark said, grinning.

  Daniel thought fast. The chopper had already flown from Flagstaff to here. They could probably make no further than Farmington, New Mexico on the remainder of the fuel.

  He called Mark, who was still trading good-natured insults with JR, to come back and talk to him, and asked him how they could make it to either Billings or Bozeman, in Montana. It would take several hops, but Mark had a surprising number of friends along the way who could help organize refueling and overnight rests inconspicuously and without asking questions.

  It was settled - they’d fly as close to the Rabbit Hole as they could get. Mark said if they chose Bozeman, he knew a man who would store the chopper in a place where no one would question it.

  Within a few minutes, the remainder of the expedition and their rescuers were on their way across the Navajo reservation on their way to Farmington. Daniel hoped Brideaux would treat him well. He had no idea where to even look for Joseph for a rescue attempt. One more friend left behind among many. He knew they couldn’t save everyone, but this one hurt more than any other.

  Just after midnight of the 6th day at the Rossler Foundation

  Just after midnight on the same day, two helicopters with FBI insignia on them landed on the lawn in front of the Rossler Foundation building and ten men, all dressed and armed as FBI SWAT team members, jumped out. At the same time, two FBI incident vans stopped at the front gates. Two “FBI” agents got out, walked up to the security guards and shot them at short range with silenced guns. Afterward, they drove the vans right up to the front door.

  As soon as the fake FBI agents stormed through the front door, the two security guards inside jumped up and were killed as well. With no one left to stop them, some fifteen operatives raided the place. They broke into the server room and took all the servers, collected all the computers and documents and anything else they could lay their hands on throughout the building. An hour later, they were done and moved out the front gate, with no one in the city any the wiser.

  Brideaux was waiting for them in a warehouse in Denver, with Joseph under guard at his side. He watched, at first in triumph and later in a growing tantrum, as his experts get everything set up and start working through his prize. None of the computers would boot up. Brideaux railed at the fake agents. “Don’t you know the difference between an operational computer and one that’s been stripped of its hard drive?

  “His experts calmed him. There were still the blade servers. This was a job for their hackers. But, when they booted up the servers and hack into them, they found Raj’s little joke - a welcome screen on each and every one of them with a photo of his hand showing a middle finger! Beyond that, there was nothing but movies and games on them. Now they understood the blank spots in the racks. The missing Rosslers must have taken the important ones with them. In the boxes they’d taken from the vault, they found only rolls of toilet paper. This last insult sent Brideaux into such a fit of rage that he had to be sedated. When he woke, he directed his crew to find the missing Rossler employees at any cost and make them talk. Where had those sons of bitches gone with his libraries?

  Those of the Rossler Foundation people who had to be left behind had each found an email in their home computers the next morning, after the bug-out. With no other explanation, they’d been given regretful severance notices and told to check their bank accounts, which had been enriched by several thousand dollars in severance pay for each. A few of them received frightening and painful visits from FBI agents – they didn’t know the difference – who demanded to know where the Rosslers and a few other key employees had gone. After finding that even under torture the ones left behind had no knowledge of the others, they went back to Brideaux with the report.

  It seemed that they’d vanished into thin air, clearing out the building before they left. The agents found no one at the houses of Daniel, JR, Sinclair, Luke, Bess, Luke, Ryan or even Daniel’s parents in North Carolina. Some of the Foundation employees were also missing.

  They had gone, disappeared with no word to anyone. The neighbors didn’t know anything, hadn’t seen anything, they had no idea. Brideaux went mad. Waving his gun to prevent his people from sedating him again, he was swearing like no one had ever heard a human swear before.

  He knew he had a problem. Although his plan had worked out exactly as anticipated up until now, he knew he’d never know peace again as long as the Rosslers and their brilliant scientists had access to the Tenth and Eighth Cycle libraries. Until he could find them and those libraries he would always have to look over his shoulder.

  With his future and that of the world at stake, Brideaux deployed all of his resources. He put out contracts on them in the crime world. He let police in every likely jurisdiction, the FBI, the CIA and a handful of other alphabet-soup agencies know – they were wanted for heinous crimes. He called in his NSA stooges to track cell phones, land lines, internet activity; every possible lead or trace. He had to find them.

  Chapter 44 - Utopia has arrived

  New Delhi - The G 20 summit

  It didn't take long for Brideaux to demonstrate his new power in an even
more sinister manner. A week after putting a price on the head of every missing Rosslerite, at a G20 conference held in New Delhi, among the usual protesters were a handful of men with backpacks. Seeing nothing but what appeared to be computer equipment, security officers allowed them to remain in the roped-off area where the crowd was gathered. Inside, the twenty representatives to the conference as well as some dozen or more heads of state of the delegate countries were seated for lunch in the Emily Eden Room.

  The delegate from the United States rose as if to give a toast and the conversation quieted. Rather than a toast, however, the delegate had an announcement.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please be advised that when I call your name, you will be required to leave, with our thanks for your service, which is no longer needed. I represent a group of individuals who will now replace selected members."

  A buzz of conversation ensued, with some laughter as people decided it was a joke, although in poor taste. However, when the man began calling names, the buzz turned to angry shouting. "Ibrahim bin Ibrahim. Yoshi Yamaguchi." Before he could utter a third name, other delegates rushed him and seized him.

  "What's the meaning of this? Are you drunk?" demanded the delegate from Germany, in impeccable English.

  "Not at all. Let go of me or suffer the consequences." His hand slipped into his pocket and the delegate from Canada moved to restrain him and draw it out. In it was a small device that looked much like an old-fashioned pager. This started a stampede among those near enough to see it, as they assumed it was a trigger for an explosive device. Instead, it signaled the men outside, who each brought a hand-held microphone from their pockets and began to speak in a language strange to the passers-by and protesters in the square.

  There was no hue and cry, as the crowd was polyglot anyway. When nothing of note happened, they turned their backs and ignored the men with the backpacks. Once those had intoned their lines into their microphones, they melted away into the crowd and eventually left the area.