A melee ensued as the hopeful recruits helped him pick up the papers. A few set their backpacks down. He spotted a pair of sunglasses clinging to one and a trendy beanie hat on another.
Hal emerged, standing up on the far end of the crowd, wearing the wrap-around Oakley shades and beanie hat. He fell in behind the tour guide who led the crowd back out to the awaiting bus. Hal shuffled onto the bus, trudging to the back where he sat low and out of sight. Eyeing the windows for any sign of guards. He leaned back, relieved. The coast was clear.
Baldo squinted at the monitor, zooming in on areas of the crowd. No sign of Hal. Baldo brought up the feed of Hal’s desk. Empty. He checked the cameras in the corridor near the commissary. Not much movement. He spotted Yarbo talking on his phone on the way to lunch. No sign of Hal.
Baldo pulled up hidden cameras inside the commissary. He zoomed over the AF personnel eating lunch. Closely examining the faces. Hal wasn’t among them.
Next, Baldo brought up the cameras overlooking the parking lot. He zoomed to Hal’s truck. Empty. Not a soul around. Baldo quickly scanned the cameras in Hal’s home. They came up on a multi-cam view on the main monitor. His home was quiet and still. Baldo picked up the phone… “Sheridan is off the map.”
The last of the high-schoolers trampled onto the bus, scrambling to find open seats. The yellow school bus pulled away from the Air Force parking lot. It was about a mile ride down First Street to the main gate at Holloman. Hal stayed low in the seat, watching out the window as the bus snailed along. It couldn’t reach the gate fast enough.
“What do you mean you don’t know where he is?” Trest’s voice crackled over Baldo’s phone.
“I was watching him, along with the others and I can’t find him now. He was at his office. It looked like he left for lunch and I lost him in the corridor. His truck is still in the lot and he’s not at home.”
“Is he in the can?”
“Negative. I had one of our guys check.”
“What about the gates?”
“I called them all. Nobody has a record of him leaving base.”
“Well, what’s happening at the base today? Are there any visiting speakers or forums he might be at? Did you check the public affairs calendar?”
“Checking it now, sir.” Baldo searched on his computer. “Just a tour from Alamogordo High School, sir.”
“Has their bus left the base?”
“I’ll call the gate.”
The tour bus reached the main gate at First and Santa Fe Drive. The Air Force guards waved it through. Politely nodding to students on board. The kiosk phone rang, but by the time a guard picked it up, it was too late. The school bus was free and clear of the base.
“I’ve got something here…” Charlie said in Chinese. Pulling headphones down connected to the MSS laptop. Jagged audio waveform lines skipped across a window on his busy screen. Weng hovered over him, studying the screen. “…Chatter from the police scanner. It’s coming from the Security Forces on the base. They’re tracking a school bus that just left the base.”
“Pull up the live YG-30 feed,” Weng said.
“Yes, sir.” Charlie typed on the military-grade laptop, remotely controlling the YG-30 spy satellite about five-hundred miles above New Mexico. The YG-30 was the newest PLA military spy satellite in the Yaogan Weixing series. The wide-angle, high-res observation vehicle used electro-optical sensors to surveil any spot on Earth across a wide spectrum of wavelengths including optical, infrared, gamma and UV radiation.
Weng watched as the image zoomed down from space, zeroing in on Holloman AFB. The ultra-high resolution enabled Charlie to pick any spot and continue zooming while maintaining a sharp image. Weng spotted the yellow bus. “Here.”
Charlie typed on the computer and the image centered on the yellow bus. Charlie spotted the flashing lights of a police SUV several blocks away. He pointed it out to Weng.
Hal casually glanced out the window of the rear exit. Unaware of the police car. A ruckus erupted several seats away, grabbing his attention. “My hat’s gone!” A student said. “Someone stole it!”
The bus stopped at a light. The kid scanned the bus. “There! In the back!” He pointed at Hal. Hal jerked the lever of the emergency exit, jolting the door open — triggering a high-pitched alarm. Hal leapt out, hitting the ground on a sprint. Dodging cars, dashing in the opposite direction. Causing one to slam on the brakes. All eyes in the bus were on him as he crossed two lanes of oncoming traffic. A garbage truck rumbled by, momentarily shielding their view. It passed by and Hal was gone.
Sirens sounded ahead of the bus. A white SUV with flashing lights parked in front of the bus, blocking its path. The SUV had two blue stripes running the length of the vehicle and a seal of the Air Force Security Police.
The MSS agents in the bunkhouse observed the entire event over the live feed from the YG-30 spy satellite. Including the mysterious man in the skull-cap beanie and sunglasses.
“Stay on him,” Weng said, “while we gear up.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MKULTRA
The weathered garbage truck passed a suburban strip mall with a large supermarket. It slowed for a tight turn onto a narrow street. Hal stepped down from the running board on the back of the truck, landing in a jog. He continued across the small street to a run-down motel.
Hal paid cash, got the key, and before heading up to the room, darted across the road to the supermarket. Throwing the beanie hat and sunglasses in the trash on the way in.
Patrons dotted the supermarket. Business was slow on weekday afternoons. Hal shoveled six packs of Coke into a cart along with a couple four packs of Starbucks bottled drinks. He pulled down a yellow four-pack carton of Red Bull, eyeing the label to see exactly what flavor “yellow” was. A woman pushed a cart past his line of sight at the end of the aisle. He looked up, seeming to recognize her, but couldn’t place it. An image flashed in his mind, startling him. Causing the Red Bull to slip from his hand. It hit the floor and burst, spraying a stream of urine-looking energy drink on his leg. Hal was oblivious to it. His mind focused on the woman from his vision. Realizing it was her—the same young woman in a lab coat who gave him an injection in his dream. She looked different, dressed in casual track pants and a loose sweater. Hal started toward her in a brisk gait. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
She looked back. Recognizing him, but pretending not to. She cut down another aisle.
“Ma’am?”
Hal picked up the pace. Trying to jog while not appearing to be a stalker to the store patrons. He lost sight of her, but locked onto her again when he reached the end of the aisle. She ditched her shopping cart and darted to a manager by the exit. Terrified, she pointed Hal out to the manager like he was a serial killer. The manager picked up a phone on a post nearby. Calling security, Hal presumed.
The woman continued out the door. The manager stepped in front of it after she passed, blocking the exit. Hal sprinted for another exit, knocking over displays and slaloming shopping carts. A security guard dashed down an aisle on his tail. Hal leapt the chain of a closed cashier stand and the manager cut him off as he landed. Shoving a stack of a dozen shopping carts toward him. Hal planted his hands on the carts and vaulted them like they were a pommel horse. He sprinted to the exit, now blocked by the security guard — a thin frail man who had no business security guarding anything. Hal leaped on a run, hurtling toward the guard and planting a foot on his chest. The two tumbled through the exit. Hal rolled to his feet and was up in a flash — bolting across the parking lot — head on a swivel — looking for the woman.