CHAPTER FIVE—21ST CENTURY

 

It’s funny how easy it was to fly from Las Vegas to Tucson in just a short two hours from my door to the limo—of course when you had money. No security, no ticketing, no hassles, I didn’t even have to leave my pistol behind. Since 9/11 air travel had really become a pain. I’d forgotten how much I liked traveling on a private plane.

“So where we headed Nigel”? I asked.

“About an hour’s drive sir,” he replied as the privacy screen rose between us, “Please help yourself to refreshments.”

I looked around the back seat and found the minibar stocked with wine, champagne, brandy, whisky, and scotch—an alcoholic’s dream come true.

“Fresh ice, these guys didn’t miss a beat,” I mumbled to myself. This limo had to be sitting at the terminal for at least three hours. Three hours in the desert and they still had fresh ice. Those executive terminal folks were great, and Staan was one class act.

Zeroing in on the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label scotch I decided to forego the ice and go neat for my first taste of this very expensive liquor.

The scotch warmed me as it glided down my throat and into my stomach. Once again, I began to doze off but forced myself to stay awake. I wanted to see where Nigel was driving me. He steered the car west then south toward Mexico on I-19.

I rummaged through the minibar to see if Staan had anything to eat. Nigel had arrived before I’d eaten dinner and since I dozed off on the plane, they didn’t bother to wake me and feed me. I found a tin of cashews, broke the seal, and began munching. A brochure advertising Estegahlal was sitting next to the nuts. I wondered if Staan was trying to tell me something. Personally, I stayed away from drugs of any kind, preferring to stay young and in shape the old-fashioned way, through the pain of diet and exercise.

I cracked the window and caught the fragrance of the creosote bush after a fresh rain. I remembered how Anna loved the smell as much as I did. We always joked about bottling the scent and becoming rich on the sales. It seemed so long ago.

A Green Valley signed passed by the window as I daydreamed and remembered Anna. I’d met her in high school. Her father was an officer stationed at Nellis Air Force Base just outside of Las Vegas. My father was stationed there as well but he was an enlisted man. In the pecking order of life in those days enlisted kids didn’t associate with officer’s kids and vice versa. The moment I saw her though I knew that stupid rule was going out the window. She was a tiny little thing, about five feet two. Dark hair and dark brown eyes. She had the face of an angel, a Hispanic angel.

In those days Hispanics in Las Vegas were a rarity. Today, however, they have fully assimilated into the Las Vegas culture and the locals have embraced them warmly.

She was a living doll, a rare treasure, she was so beautiful it hurt. The mystique of her beauty and heritage drove me crazy. It took me six months to work up the courage to ask her out. When I finally did, she told me she was busy. It would be another month before I worked up the courage to ask her out again. This time the answer was yes.

We exited the highway at the Amado exit and headed west on a side road then turned north. It seemed like Nigel was trying to confuse me with all the twists and turns but I think I kept up with him fairly well. We finally pulled off the paved main road onto a well-graded dirt road. A large, faded wooden sign on the side of the road announced that this was Abaddon Research, No Trespassing. I could see in the moonlight that a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire kept formation with the limo on both sides of the car as we weaved our way about a mile down the road. Suddenly we made a sharp turn to the right and there, in the saddle of three small hills sat a large well-lit complex, completely hidden from the road until we made that sharp turn.

It looked like a factory or mining operation. I rolled down the window again to get a better look and noticed it was too quiet for a mine or a factory. Nigel drove forward about another one hundred meters towards a gate shack and the entrance to the compound. A rent-a-cop stepped out of the shack, at least that was my first thought until he got closer to the car.

The guard was kitted out in a desert camouflage battle dress uniform. His head was protected by a special operations force half-helmet. A Kevlar helmet designed after the Battle of Mogadishu for SOF guys, a little smaller than the original Kevlar helmets most of the military wore. The only thing missing was Night Vision Goggles, but with all the light, it would hinder more than help. He wore a tactical vest complete with hand grenades and smoke grenades. I was impressed, this guy was no slouch. He held his M-4 rifle with special operations modifications at the ready, slung across his body with the barrel just slightly turned away from the car. This guy was either a wannabe, one of those guys who want to run around in military gear and all enamored with guns and knives but don’t have enough balls to actually join the military—or this guy was the real thing, a pro.

“Kill the engine and step out of the car, the driver first then passengers.” The guard yelled.

“Not to worry sir, this is standard procedure,” Nigel said lowering the privacy shield and cutting off the car’s engine.

The gate guard kept the rifle at the ready and I kept my eyes on him as Samuel stepped out of the car and the guard motioned him to the gate in front of the headlights.

“OK, now you Professor Jason, open the door on my side and step out.” The guard ordered.

I opened the door and stood up; my eyes locked on the gate guard’s. I got that old feeling, the one I hadn’t felt since my days in Baghdad with Seventh Group, someone else was watching me. I sensed more than I saw a slight movement to the left in the darkness and without turning my head tried to see in the darkness.

Another lesson I learned in the military after years of fighting in the dark is that the center of the eye doesn’t have the rods needed to see at night. It’s better to try and see something in the peripheral vision in the dark. I could just make out what looked like a small mound. A firing position, I thought, there’s another guard out there with a bead on me.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a laser dot on my skull right now,” I said to the gate guard.

He looked surprised but motioned me to the front of the car alongside Samuel. “What makes you think that”? He asked.

“Just a feeling that I have. One that’s saved my life on a few occasions. And the fact that your compadré in the fighting position at the car’s eight o’clock moved. So what unit were you with?”

“Hmph,” was all the guard said as he used his flashlight to inspect the car visually then took out a hand-held device and scanned around the outside and inside of the limo. He opened the trunk and hood and scanned them as well.

“It is a new device one of Doctor Staan’s company’s developed, an explosives sniffer,” Nigel explained stepping from the limo. “It is not on the market as yet, but Doctor Staan expects it to debut in the next few months. It should be quite a boon for security personal around the world.”

Another billion-dollar discovery, I thought. This guy Staan is like King Midas, everything he touches turns to gold.

“Yeah, and the nice thing is you don’t have to feed it or clean up after it,” I said trying to get a reaction from the guard.

The guard was going through my gym bag and paid no attention to my remarks. “Don’t worry, I packed clean underwear,” I said at him.

He looked up and gave me a hard look. “Just keep quiet Professor and we’ll be done shortly.”

The guard closed the trunk then walked to the front of the limo and closed the hood. “Seventy-fifth Rangers and you”?

That explained the lack of humor. The Rangers were always too serious. “Seventh Group at Bragg, Iraq, and Afghanistan,” I replied.

“Come over to the guard shack for a moment. I need to have you stand here.” He pointed to a spot on the concrete with an “X”.

“Now look up here,” he pointed to a point on the shack’s window, “and say cheese.” He said with a big grin.

“Cheese,” I said, and a flash went off over my head.

“Now, put your hands on the scanner in front of you.” The scanner was on a ledge that ran around the guard shack. Placing my hands as I was instructed the scanner automatically began a scan.

“Full handprints and photo before entering, you’ve got some heavy security here,” I said to no one in particular.

“It’s more than a photo, we’re doing a facial scan as well.” The gate guard replied.

A green light came on over my head. All this security you’d think they were holding nukes in the facility, I thought.

“You’ve been cleared.” The gate guard said. “Ted Adams,” he said introducing himself and holding out his hand. “Oh, and you can hand over the Ruger and your ammo before you go in,” he added.

There was no arguing. My face had to have a puzzled look—how did they know? Ted took a step to my right as I removed the LCP and the ammo from their holsters and handed them to him.

“Thanks,” he said, “to answer your question we have an X-ray scanner in the car.”

I took his hand and shook it, “Please to meet you, Ted.”

“And I’m Mike Santaros, Tenth Group, the best group.” The guard from the fighting position had left it and was approaching with an outstretched hand. I took it and returned the gesture.

“Welcome to Abaddon,” Ted Adams said. “Nigel, you’re clear to proceed. Mr. Sullivan is waiting for you at the headquarters building.”

I gave Adams a puzzled look, where was he getting all of his information? Ted looked at me then smiled. “It’s a bone mike and receiver,” he said. “A new technology developed by…”

“No wait, let me guess, Doctor Staan,” I said interrupting him.

“That’s right,” he said with a knowing grin. “The transmitter is a whisper mike, it picks up everything we’ve been saying plus if I want to transmit, all I have to do is whisper about this level.” Adams mouthed something but I didn’t hear a thing. “And they hear everything clear as a bell.”

“The receiver actually vibrates the bones in your skull so you don’t really have any sound that can be detected. Real Star Wars technology,” he said.

Nigel moved back to the limousine and opened my door. “Ready sir”? He asked.

“I suppose, nice meeting you guys,” I said waving as I walked back to the limo.

“You guys really are serious about security here,” I said to Samuel as I sat down in the back seat.

“We have to be sir with all the new technology.” He replied.

“You’ve got a lot of that.” This has been an interesting trip already and it’s just starting, I thought. Definitely worth the five thousand Staan offered.

Adams opened the gate and Santaros disappeared into the guard shack. Entering the compound, I tried to get a feel for its layout. To the front was a multi-storied building, what appeared to be a parking garage under construction with exterior lights on each level. To my right was an open area for about thirty to forty meters then a series of tanks and other holding vessels. Water tanks, fuel tanks, propane tanks, all partly dug into the ground. It looked like a flammable and toxic storage area. On my left were a series of slump block buildings all single story about twenty meters wide and fifty meters in depth. The first had a small lawn in front, a flagpole, and a newer, fancier Abaddon Research sign; different from the one on the road. The logo for Abaddon was a large letter “A” with what looked like a pocket watch on its right leg. Strange, I thought, no Luminos Pharmaceutical signs. Nothing to tie Staan to Abaddon Research.  To the right of what I took to be the main building and towards the larger structure were two more buildings about the same size. Behind the three buildings, I could see a series of construction trailers. Just past the three modern buildings was an exception, an anathema. Here stood an old wooden building. It reminded me of an old railroad station or railroad worker’s home. Definitely out of place with the other buildings but I could imagine it being here long before everything else although I saw no railroad spur entering or exiting the compound.

Samuel glided the limo to a stop in front of the main building, the one I took as the headquarters, where a tall red-bearded man in a construction hard hat stood. Nigel jumped out of the limo and opened my door.

I stepped out onto the gravel as the big man walked forward and extended his hand,” Professor Jason welcome to Abaddon Research, I’m Danny Sullivan, Doctor Staan’s partner.”

I gave Sullivan a firm grip and got one in return. “Thanks, good to meet you Mr. Sullivan and it’s good to be here, I think.”

“Call me Sully, everyone else does. How was the trip?” He said with a smile.

“Great,” I replied, “I love flying private air and I’ve always wanted to try the Johnnie Walker Blue Label. To tell you the truth, though, I’m famished. I hadn’t eaten my dinner when Nigel showed up so I’m a bit overdue.”

“Doctor Staan thought you would be since you fell asleep on the plane. I’m to take you to the dining facility and get you into bed for the evening. Doctor Staan is a bit tied up right now; an unforeseen event, so he will see you in the morning about nine AM.”

Staan knew I fell asleep on the plane, I thought. He has good intelligence that’s for sure. I was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t going to get to meet him tonight but hey, I figured it was his dime.

“I’m sorry for the delay as I’m sure you’re curious as to why you’ve been asked here.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am very curious. What can you tell me about what Doctor Staan needs me for? He mentioned my talents in his letter.”

“I’m sorry professor but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when you meet with Doctor Staan.”

“Can you at least tell me about Abaddon Research”?

“Again, Professor I’m not at liberty to disclose…”

“OK, alright I get the idea, it’s up to Doctor Staan. Can you at least tell me what’s for dinner, Sully”?

“That I can professor,” he laughed.

Directing me to the headquarters entrance we walked down the corridor and straight out the back to one of the trailers I’d seen earlier. It was a double-wide affair with four picnic-type tables near the entrance and a food line that ran down the middle of the two trailers. The kitchen obviously took up the back half of the double-wide. The staff was waiting, five people, all dressed in white with the Abaddon logo on their chef’s coats.

“Dinner is normally from six to eight PM but since we knew you were coming; we kept the kitchen staff on to feed you.

“Well, I certainly appreciate it.”

“Go ahead through the line. I’m going to check in with Doctor Staan to see if his status may have changed, I’ll be back soon.”

I ate my steak and potato in silence recounting the last couple of hours. The meal was good, and I felt better with a full stomach. I was just starting to nod off when Sully returned.

“No change professor, he’ll see you in the morning. Now that you’ve finished let me take you to your room.”

Sully led me out of the chow hall and down the row of trailers to one near the large well-lit building. I had the trailer all to myself although I could see there were four bedrooms with one bed per room. My room was fairly Spartan, with a bed, a nightstand, and a washbasin.

“Showers and baths are shared professor but as you can see, you’re all by yourself tonight,” Sully explained.

Following him down the hall he showed me a TV room with a refrigerator and coffee maker, a bookshelf with paperback novels, and a stack of DVDs.

“There’s liquor in the cabinet if you want a drink, beer, and other beverages in the refrigerator. We’ve also got munchies in the cabinets if you’re so inclined, professor.”

“Thanks, this is quite the setup,” I replied.

“No problem professor, we take care of folks out here. Oh, Doctor Staan had me put some of that blue label in the cabinet for you in case you want a drink tonight; and with that, I’ll be leaving you.”

“Thanks again Sully, I really appreciate the hospitality.”

He smiled and opened the door to leave. Just as he was stepping down, he stopped. “Oh, almost forgot to tell you. You’ll have a guard outside the door tonight.”

I gave him a “you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me” look.

“Sorry professor but the grounds can be dangerous at night. Don’t want you stumbling around and getting hurt and suing the company.” He said with a big grin. “If you need anything just ask the guard. He’s in contact with our control room and it’s open twenty-four hours a day. Have a good night.” He said ducking out the door and closing it behind him. I caught a glimpse of the rent-a-cop outside all decked out in his combat gear. This place was something—exactly what kind of something I wasn’t quite sure yet.

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