After a few minutes, Bill Wall, the technician sitting in the pilot’s seat said, “I think we have it done.”
“Good. I’ll radio the General and let him know we are ready to activate Houdini,” Mike said, as he raised the hand-held walkie-talkie.
“General, this is Mike Evans onboard the first C-17. We are ready to activate Houdini.”
“Roger that, Mike. Whenever you are ready.”
“Go for it, Bill,” Mike said. Bill flipped the newly wired accessory switch on the flight controls.
“Houdini activated,” Mike announced on the radio.
“Good job guys, the plane just disappeared. Right here on the tarmac.”
“Any holes in the Exoskin?” Mike asked from inside the plane.
“A few small ones on the wings. No big deal. Let’s move on to the next plane. We are way behind schedule.”
“Roger that,” Mike said as he stood from the co-pilot’s seat.
A few minutes later, Mike stood with the General, as his team hurried to the next plane.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” the General said rhetorically. “Two Hundred and eighty-two thousand pounds of plane can just disappear.”
“Technically, Sir, it did not disappear. It is still there; you just can’t see it.”
“I’m aware of how the technology works, Mike. Can we get the job done on the other six?”
“No way can we finish six in twenty minutes, Sir. But I have a suggestion. My team and I can travel with the planes and finish the programming mid-flight.”
“Can that be done?”
“Of course. The tiles will have to be placed on the outside fuselage before takeoff, but the internal setup can be completed in flight. May I ask the nature of the mission and why it so imperative that we leave in, what, eighteen minutes?” Mike asked while looking at his watch.
“Strictly speaking, this is above your clearance, but given the circumstances, I will let you in on the plan. We have already deployed our only NATT, the Flying City. If Flying City is successful, then there will be no need for the C-17s. However, if the Flying City fails, then the C-17s must be in the region for backup. To be an effective back up, they need to be on their way now.”
“Will they be escorted?”
“They will be flying into enemy territory as it is. We have a Pacific carrier group moving into position now. They will offer limited support, but their main defense is the Houdini. If they are detected over Russian air space, no number of escorts will be able to save them.”
“Let me go with them. If they get into a jam, my scientific expertise could be the difference between mission success or failure.”
The General stood on the airport apron, his breath visible in the air, contemplating the proposal. “You are too valuable to lose, Mike.”
This is my one shot at getting on that plane. This is the mission; this is my opportunity to give something of value to Calidus Delusor. This is my ticket out of here, freedom, and another chance with Nikita.
“Am I more valuable than the cargo you are attempting to acquire in Russia?”
The General pondered that for a moment. “At the risk of sounding unkind, I would have to say no. The cargo to be recovered in Russia is more valuable than any man on the planet, probably more valuable than any 10,000 men.”
What could possibly be that valuable?
“Then, there’s your answer. You need my team on the planes, not only to keep the mission on schedule, but in case something goes wrong.” Mike pulled the hood of his large coat over his head to shield him from the wind.
The General nodded his head. “How many men on your team?”
“Fifteen, Sir.”
“You can take three. The rest stay here.”
Great. I’m on the plane going to an unknown Russian location, to pick up an unknown cargo. I have no idea how I’m to take possession of the cargo, or how I am going to deliver it to Calidus. If I am caught, I will be executed, and Calidus is not answering his little hairy bug phone. How could anything go wrong?
“How are we going to get the cargo on to the C-17 once in Russia? I’m pretty sure the Russians are not going to let us use one of their airports?”
“No. That’s the beautiful part. If plan A does not work, plan B is to fill the shuttle crafts with cargo and fly it up to the C-17s. We are going to load the C-17s mid-flight,” the General explained, and then hurried off.
Shuttle craft? What shuttle craft?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Richmond, VA
Governor Robert Fisher was standing in his plush office, staring down at the head of a 22-year-old would-be intern as it bobbed back and forth. Her hair was bleach blonde, but not in a slutty way; she had it pulled back in a bun. He grabbed and twisted the hair on the back of her head and pulled her in even closer. He could hear her choking a little, but not too much. Her horn-rimmed glasses smashed up against her face, and he erupted down her throat. Reflexively, she pulled back; he released his grip on the back of her head. She coughed a little and wiped off her mouth, as she awkwardly stood to her feet.
“Nice, Jessica, very nice,” the Governor said, as he drew in a deep breath.
“My name is Cathy,” she protested, as she straightened the stylish glasses on her nose.
“Sure, it is honey.” The Governor pulled up his zipper.
“You’re an asshole. Did I get the job?” she asked as she tucked in her blouse.
“Yeah, yeah. You got the internship. Next time, no teeth.”
He stared at her firm ass as she hurried out of his office. His cell phone rang. Not many people had his personal cell phone, and they knew not to call unless it was important. The list of people that have his number is short: his wife, kids, chief-of-staff, his poker buddies, a few select Senators, and the President.
“Hello?” Fisher said into his smart phone, as he gazed into the ornate mirror hanging on the wall to straighten his $225.00 solid red power tie.
“This is General Stone Byrd, Space Command. We have a problem. A big problem.”
“What is it?” Governor Fisher asked. He had forgotten about MJ-1 of Majestic Twelve. Of course, he had the private number. It had been a long time since MJ-1 had called him. After all, the Governor was MJ-12, the lowest ranking member of the elite group.
“I need you to gather the entire Majestic-12 group in DC within the hour. I will address everyone at once,” General Byrd said.
“May I ask the nature of the problem?” Fisher asked.
“Let’s just say it’s of the apocalyptic variety.”
“Shit. I will be right on it. Does the President know? He knows a little, but not everything. I wanted to bring it to the full Majestic Twelve before I read him in,” Byrd said.
“Okay, I’m on it.”
“Say, you sounded a little out of breath when I called,” Byrd asked with a chuckle. “So, you’re interviewing interns?”
“How did you know?”
“I will call back in one hour. Have everyone there.” The phone went dead.
Robert Fisher was serving the first year of his term as Virginia’s Governor. He knew that there were six other MJ-12 members in the Washington, DC area. Four others were spread around the country, and General Byrd was on the Moon Base. He could not have his secretary make the phone calls; he had to call them himself. He knew they would all attend the meeting, regardless of what they were doing.
Robert Fisher stepped out into the hallway, where is secretary gave him a knowing look. “What can I do for you, Governor?”