Hal successfully completed the sim. The computer program stopped at the end, then returned to the starting point. He would have to repeat it again and again. Three more times. After that, he completed a simulated training for contingency plans, should the mission go awry. A variety of scenarios presented themselves and Hal responded to each intuitively, while following orders after to abort the mission and proceed to exfil. He found the process redundant. He got it after the first sim. Hal presumed the repetitions were necessary for retention with someone in a subconscious-sleepwalking state.
During the sims, Hal discovered that he could reach for any of his weapons and they would appear in his hands. If he reached down to his holster and closed his hand, he would be gripping his sidearm. The same was true of a submachine gun, grenades, fixed-blade knife, and even chemlights.
They practiced simulations with nearly every weapon — sidearm target practice, faux knife fights, and hand-to-hand close quarter combat. Hal wondered if he responded the same now as all of his subconscious simulations.
By the time the sim training came to an end, Hal had worked up a good lather. Baldo led Hal out of the OmniTrainer to a comfortable chair, brought over from the box. He kept the VR headgear on Hal. Running the mission brief through the VR as well as memory retention programs with flashing images and names of his targets. McCreary quizzed Hal, drilling him with virtual flashcards. He would say the target’s name and ask Hal to repeat it. Confirming Hal’s retention, while utilizing vocal, visual and muscle-memory learning techniques.
After three hours of intensive training, the preparation was complete. Baldo removed the VR headgear, placed Hal’s shoes back on his feet and guided him to the pickup for the drive home, just the way he arrived.
Hal wasn’t sure if he should shower or go right to bed. He couldn’t remember waking up sweaty or smelling of body odor. He figured showering was common and maybe even worked into his mind control programming. If not, oh well. He wasn’t going back to bed hot and dripping from head to toe in sweat.
Falling asleep wasn’t easy. Not just because of all the caffeine in his system, but from the rush of the training he just completed. He couldn’t wait to tell Jenny and Hank. He wanted to tell everyone he knew.
“How’d it go?” A gravelly voice sounded on the other end of McCreary’s home phone. He was groggy, having just awoken. His mind cleared, realizing it was Trest.
“Fine— Great, sir. Went really well.”
“He found the barn okay?”
“Yes, sir. No problem there.”
There was a pause. “No problem there? So, where was it?”
“Not a problem, sir. Just a couple delays in command responses. I’m thinking it’s the new environment. He completed all the sims with the usual speed, diligence and aggression. He’ll be fine.”
“Good to hear. POTUS has been on my ass like we’re in a Castro District bath-house, so this France mission has to go off without a hitch.
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”
“The ISIS cell is so deep in a Paris no-go zone the French won’t risk offending the Muslims by taking it out. Their President turned down a SEAL Team six op to infiltrate! All the more reason we have to ace this mission. Going into unfriendly land unseen is one thing. Going into ally country is another. He paused for effect then repeated his words… “Without a hitch.”
“Yes, sir. A-game.”
“Alright. Tomorrow night.”
“Roger that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SCIROC
“Those… look amazing!” Jenny said, as Henry entered the dining room from his backyard, gripping a metal tray of mesquite-grilled steaks — cooked to perfection. He wore a chef’s hat and novelty apron printed with the six-pack abs of a boxer and a championship belt that read “Grill Master.” Henry removed the hat and apron, setting the tray of steaks on the rustic polished-oak dining room table, joining Hal and Jenny.
It was early evening. Over the course of dinner, Hal walked them through his entire training. Giving them a play-by-play. From the high-pitched sound of the tone that woke him through an implant to the interactive VR training and mission brief. Henry the technophile had several questions about the VR hardware and training. He was eager to know the minute details of the training. Jenny listened in disbelief as Hal revealed more of the world that had been hidden to her for the last two years.
The three speculated on next steps — how his mission may go down and how he might be able to steal a suit — should the opportunity present itself. They discussed every possible scenario and contingency they could imagine. Including all the back-up plans Hal covered in his training. The discussion ran well into the warm peach cobbler Henry prepared, topped with heaping scoops of frigid vanilla bean ice cream.
Hal expected the mission to happen soon, while the training was still fresh in his mind. Possibly even tonight. He asked Henry for a double-shot espresso to go with his peach cobbler.
The three set up an assembly line on the dinner dishes with Hal washing, Jenny rinsing and Henry drying. Halfway into it, Jenny received a cryptic text. The same kind she always received the evening of one of the ghost missions, never knowing her subjects were leaving the facility. This one had an additional note with longitude and latitude coordinates — a new location. She showed the message to Hal and Henry.
“It’s running out,” Henry alarmed, handing the phone back.
He was referring to a timer on the encrypted app that would delete the message after thirty seconds. Jenny snapped a screen shot of it before it disappeared. “Who puts longitude and latitude?” She asked, rhetorically. “Just tell me the location!”
Henry removed his phone, opening a map application. “What are they?”
She read the numbers slowly, “Longitude 32.851866, Latitude 106.060970.”
Henry typed them into his phone. A map popped up with a pointer hovering over a light beige blank area zoomed all the way in. Henry zoomed out. “That’s Otero County. Just East of the base. The Ba—”
“—Barrett Ranch,” Hal completed his sentence.
“How did you know?”
“I was there. That’s the barn where I trained.”
“Why didn’t you say?” Henry asked, agitated. “You know he’s a friend. You were with me for his birthday barbecue!”
“I know,” Hal replied, “and that’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to contact him or involve him in any way.”
“I’m gonna’ call it a night,” Henry said. “You two stay as long as you like.” He started out of the kitchen.
“Henry…” Hal said. It sounded unusual to Henry because Hal never referred to him by anything other than Hank or Uncle Hank. “You okay?”
“No problem, pal.”
“I should’ve told you,” Hal said. “The fewer people that know about this the better. I withheld it for his safety and yours.”
“I understand. No worries.” Henry gave Hal a friendly smack on the shoulder and tightened his grip on it. “Knock ‘em dead, kid.” Henry’s eyes told Hal not to sweat it. They were good. And then he passed through the dark living room, disappearing into the blackness of the hallway.
“I better hit the road too,” Jenny said. Hal nodded in agreement. Finishing his coffee. He gave her several minutes to drive out ahead of him, inconspicuous to any spying eyes.
Hal lied on his back in bed. Awake with eyes closed. Certain he would get the call tonight, but when? He had no idea. The waiting now was even more arduous than before, when he wasn’t sure if they would even summon him. Analog seconds ticked by on an imaginary clock in his mind, with minute and hour hands perpetually frozen. Henry’s espresso was kicking in full force. Not that he needed it to help him stay awake tonight. The adrenaline rush he felt reminded him of his very first combat mission as a CSAR PJ. The mission itself was a cake walk. All he did was hop out of an HH-60 Pave Hawk helicopter and watch Marines load a wounded brother onto the helo. He leaped back in and held the IV bag while two other PJs worked on the Marine. Hal remembered the feeling of his boots hitting foreign dirt when he jumped out. He could still see the dust kicking out on all sides of his soles, like he had landed on the moon. Not knowing what lay on the horizon, raising his M4, ready to fire at anything that mov—