They returned to their first stances and Hal threw an attacking blow. Yarbo deflected and countered. Hal blocked the counter strike instinctively, and naturally launched a counter of his own. Yarbo blocked it and before they knew it — they were sparring.
Both men used various advanced strike and blocking techniques. Each holding his own. The class froze. Stopping their exercise to watch the intense sparring match. The class formed a circle around Hal and Yarbo as their spar had advanced to include kicks and judo throws.
Yarbo attacked in a flurry and Hal impressively countered. Surprising Yarbo. Hal threw a counter right too fast for Yarbo to block, but instead of a full punch, Hal smacked him with an open hand. Not hard, but hard enough to let him know he got one by. Yarbo smiled and nodded. It was on.
Yarbo stepped back and pulled a sharkie (rubber knife) from his belt. He lunged at Hal, and Hal blocked it using the technique they just practiced. Yarbo pulled his arm back, sharkie in hand in a counter-swipe move, slashing at Hal’s midsection. Hal deflected it and employed a perfect grab-and-snap technique on Yarbo’s wrist. Not injuring it, but popping the rubber knife free and transferring it into Hal’s hand. Oohs and aahs sounded from the crowd, along with a patter of golf-claps.
Yarbo wasn’t pleased, shown up by a student in front of his class. He ratcheted up the spar intensity, lunging forward to taunt Hal into striking with the knife. Hal took a jab and Yarbo jumped back. Yarbo threw a kick that Hal sidestepped. Yarbo lunged with a fist toward Hal’s midsection. Hal stabbed with the knife toward Yarbo’s exposed ribs. The strikes happening in unison. Only Hal didn’t realize he was taking the bait. Yarbo grabbed Hal’s upper arm — avoiding the sharkie blade and using Hal’s own momentum to pulls his arm and shoulder forward in a judo-throw. Hal somersaulted over and hit the mat on his back and head in a hard THUD.
The class was silent. Hal slowly sat up, dazed. “You alright?” Yarbo asked, offering him a hand up. Hal nodded, accepted his hand and rose a little wobbly. A series of white flashes appeared in his mind. Hitting the mat shook something loose. The vision of his mind’s eye was a gun display case. Trophy weapons. Nine-millimeter sidearms with gold hand grips. He also saw a cave with shimmering water reflections on the roof and walls. Another vision appeared of him slashing the throat of a man in a hot tub. Hal closed his eyes. Forcing the images from his mind. He grabbed his towel from the mat. Wiping the sweat from his face. Hal picked up his gym bag and staggered to the door. Ignoring concerned classmates offering help as he headed out.
Hal arrived at home, dropped his gym bag on the living room floor and fired up his laptop. Soaked in his sweaty martial arts gi. He sat in the dark, eyes closed, waiting for the computer to start. Trying to remember more details from the flashes. Searching his memory. He saw the cave again. Then the hallway. He saw men speaking Spanish. Mexico? He thought. Was I in Mexico? Whose house is this? The computer start-up theme chimed and his eyes flicked open. He typed in a search of “Mexico murder gun collector.” He scanned through the search result paragraphs. Nothing caught his eye until about a half a page down. “Mexican Drug Lord Murdered” was highlighted in the link metadata along with a blurb about a rare gun collector and owner of exotic animals. A flash of the black panther appeared in Hal’s mind. He remembered looking eye-to-eye with the exotic muscular cat. He clicked on the website link. It showed images of a blackened and smoking pit where the villa used to be. The article read, “Notorious drug cartel kingpin El Lobo (Alfredo Alfredo Vincente Garcia) is dead. Killed in the bombing of his opulent hillside villa in the Kino Bay Estates region of Mexico, overlooking the Gulf of California.”
Hal searched the area in satellite view of Google Maps. Zooming to the hillside villa. More flashes pounded his mind. He saw himself entering the back gate and going into the house. Then racing across the hillside shrouded in thick fog like he was running from something.
In the box at Hangar 302, Baldo sat alone. Watching surveillance camera feeds from inside Hal’s home. Another screen displayed a hacked view of Hal’s computer. Baldo was seeing everything Hal searched. The young airman frantically picked up the phone. “It’s Baldo at 302. Sheridan is looking at the Mexico site.”
“What do you mean?” An angry Trest answered.
“He found an article on El Lobo’s murder and searched the area.” He’s zooming in on a map view of the estate. He knows.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Should we bring him in?”
“Yes! Wait though. Until he’s asleep. Bring him in the usual way.”
“Roger, sir.”
Hal obsessively searched the villa surroundings in Google Maps, and pulled up every article he could find on El Lobo. Copying and pasting notes, images and dates into a document he created. He glanced down at his watch, realizing he had been going at it for several hours. He hadn’t experienced any other flashes since seeing the panther and the yard. Seeing the villa and surroundings emboldened him. He was even more committed. He knew he was there, but his analytical mind couldn’t accept it without a viable explanation. Was it an RPA mission I flew at Creech? He pondered. Scanning his mind back in time over all the RPA missions he flew.
Nearly all were under Air Force command, but a few were flown under the guidance of the CIA. Of those, the only missions in our hemisphere were recon missions in Columbia, Venezuela and Central America. He remembered a couple strikes on cartel targets in Columbia. He thought about possible strikes on Mexican cartels, straining his memory, but couldn’t recall any. He thought about other recon missions he may have been on earlier in his Air Force career, but none came to mind.
Hal flipped through his phone. Searching for a contact. Hoping it was still there. He found it. “Emerson RPA Pilot.” Hal thought about calling him then looked at his wristwatch. It was well after midnight. Too late to call. Hal was at peace with the thought of Mexico being part of a past mission he couldn’t remember. The notion would tide him over for the night anyway, and allow him to get sleep without obsessing on it. He popped a couple more pills from the bottle Dr. Elm gave him, which seemed to be working. Hal showered and hit the rack. The pills took effect and he was out a few minutes later.
It was after one am in Hangar 302. McCreary and Trest had arrived, joining Baldo. They watched Hal sleep peacefully over a night vision camera hidden in the corner of his ceiling. “Bring him in.” Trest ordered.
“Initiate the sequence.” McCreary ordered Baldo. Baldo typed at the computer and a high-pitched sequence of beeps played over the speakers. Soft. Like a subtle case of tinnitus— ringing-of-the-ears, but in a high-pitched synthetic tone. Not loud enough to wake a person up.
“Implant operational,” Baldo said. “He’s hearing it fine.”
Hal rose from his bed at the sequence of high-pitched notes. Eyes closed. He stood in front of his bed and faced forward. Like standing at attention. Awaiting orders.
“Sleepwalking engaged.” Baldo noted. “You have the comm.”
McCreary took over, adjusting his headset. Speaking in monotone. “Beacon to Ghost One. Calmly get dressed, get in your vehicle and drive to the base. Drive to Hangar 302.”