Without speaking, both Kilmer and Weaver hastily grabbed hold of the dangling ladder as the helicopter hovered some twenty feet overhead. Each held fast to a rung of the ladder and were flown through the air in a fixed-line fly-away — a term coined by the Army Rangers. This method of evacuation was quicker and actually safer than trying to land the helicopter on the roof of the building.
“Heave ho, evac,” Richard Kilmer yelled into his mic.
Weaver circled his finger overhead to indicate they were ready for the brief flight that would whisk them away from the Quantum Building. The two commandos held fast as the overhead rotor slowly lifted them up. They felt the full force of the wind blast from the rotating blades as the aircraft snatched them quickly off the roof. They could see the streetlights and traffic below and knew it was just a brief ride to Bowling Green Park, where Colt would be waiting with the van.
To divert attention from FAA and air traffic control, Holloway had Marlon submit a nighttime training flight plan. The Quantum Building and Bowling Green Park just happened to lie along the route to be flown. In this manner, Marlon could quickly do the evacuation from the roof, drop his payload, and continue along his pre-authorized flight path. This would also provide a plausible explanation about why he was flying near Stanford University and the Quantum Building at the time of the break-in. The evacuation from the roof and the subsequent flight to Bowling Green Park would only take about two minutes, allaying suspicion from FAA.
As the helicopter approached the drop-zone, the two commandos unclipped from the ladder and dropped to the ground from about five feet. This allowed Marlon to maintain his power and depart the area before anyone with radar noticed his aircraft hovering over the park.
“Good luck, team leader,” Marlon said, as he bid farewell to his teammates. “See you in San Jose.”
“Ten-four, evac,” replied Kilmer. “Ya saved our arses, mate.”
Both Kilmer and Weaver made a hasty retreat to the north end of Bowling Green, where the cargo van was awaiting their arrival. Colt Hamil sat behind the wheel with the motor running and immediately pulled away from the curb as they jumped in.
“The op was jigged; had to clip a guard who rolled us leavin’ another office,” Kilmer said, buckling his seatbelt.
“But lucky on us, we ripped-off Conrad and that scientist we clocked won’t r’member much. This gig started out aces…but went all to hell. Ya okay?” he asked, turning to look at Weaver.
Weaver nodded, but seemed preoccupied with watching Colt negotiate the traffic in his methodical and professional manner. “Jesus, what a fucked-up mess,” he uttered, finally comfortable that the worst was over. It didn’t appear that the police or anyone had witnessed them enter the van or leave the scene.
“I won’t second-guess your decision, Boss, but did you really have to blow away the guard?” he asked, irritated they had added murder to their list of crimes for the evening.
“Hey, thanks to you guys,” Colt interrupted, “I just added a second-degree murder to my rap sheet if we’re busted. What the hell happened up there? Did I hear you right? You broke into two offices?” he asked glancing sideways at Kilmer with his eyebrows askance.
“Ease down, mates,” Kilmer replied. “Ya heard right…I had no choice. I don’t like this any more than ya’ll. Suffice it to say, Holloway’ll be pissin’ ‘imself the op was successful. The Feds’ll finger Marshall in the breach of ‘is cousin’s office and that scientist’ll think he saw two commandos liftin’ nuke fuel. The guard got in the way is all. He’s collateral damage. Now quit bitchin’ and let’s git home. I could use a grog. Anyone else?” he asked, sounding nonchalant, hoping to cut the tension he could feel from Colt and Weaver.
Kilmer knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. He still had to explain to Alastair Holloway how terribly wrong everything went down this evening. He knew he would have to suffer the wrath of this egomaniac, but also knew with equal measure that Holloway’s facile imagination would surely create some rational explanation to turn the events to his advantage. Kilmer decided to have a couple beers to decompress before placing the call to Holloway.
Upon reflection, Kilmer wondered if the dead security guard had a family. Unfortunate, he thought. Richard Kilmer knew that the mark of a good warrior lay in the ability to resist the regrets of battle, regardless how cruel or odious the outcome. He had never harbored personal regrets from any of the dozens of deaths he had executed through his years of service as a military officer, but civilians were different, and he considered the security guard a civilian. He was an unintended casualty of an operation gone wrong. Richard Kilmer knew that at some point he would be held accountable for the man’s untimely demise. Karma aside, Kilmer believed that changing the life path of another individual was not without meaning.
“We got the info ya ordered,” Kilmer said nonchalantly to the man paying for his services.
“Outstanding. When can you provide the data?” replied the terse but urgent voice on the other end of the scrambled personal PDA phone.
“T’morrow,” Kilmer replied. “Weaver’ll hand the disc off to Aldin Mills at his lab in Redwood Shores. No clue how much time he’ll need to program the equations…maybe a couple of days. But that’s out o’ my hands.”
“Confirm that we now have everything to make this thing work- you’ve retrieved Conrad’s formulas. I expect a fully functional machine this time,” demanded the surly voice on the phone.
“Aldin’ll get everythin’ we lifted from Conrad’s computer. And Weaver planted all the info for the Feds…as specified. This’ll finger Marshall. That part of the op was good as gold,” he concluded, hinting that everything hadn’t gone flawlessly.
“Elaborate,” said Holloway, the irritation in his voice almost palpable through the phone line.
“I had to off a guard,” Kilmer replied apologetically. He told Holloway the remainder of the story surrounding their bungled evacuation from the Quantum Building.
“I guess I didn’t make myself perfectly clear when I told you not to mess this up! ” Holloway angrily replied, making no pretense at disguising his rage. “So…let me get this straight. We have a dead guard and an eyewitness that can put you and Weaver at the scene of a double theft and homicide at the Quantum Building. And after breaking into a second lab, you hung around long enough to kill some fat bastard that fancies himself a guard. Are you out of your goddamned mind?” he yelled into the phone.
“You assured me this would be done exactly as planned,” Holloway continued, the vitriol oozing from his voice. “I supplied the reconnaissance detail you requested; procured the password to get past the firewall; established the timeline for conducting the operation; even arranged the air evacuation…” he seethed, lacking any modicum of restraint in excoriating Richard Kilmer. “Next time I want a cluster fuck, I’ll be sure to call a goddamned Australian commando.”
Kilmer tried like hell to maintain his composure. “It was a command decision,” Kilmer replied steadily, refusing to be unnerved. “My only choice was to save the lab rat. Yer dodgy recon should o’ clued us there might be someone cruisin’ the halls that late. Killin’ ‘im would’ve implicated Ryan Marshall in a murder. Is that what ya wanted? Ya weren’t there, Mr. Holloway.”
Kilmer fully understood that this was Alastair Holloway’s modus operandi: a gifted individual always in control and without peer, invariably the smartest one in the room, bitingly caustic, belittling anyone who made even the smallest of errors. His behavior was irritating under the best of circumstances, but he tolerated it for the money Holloway provided for his singular services. But when he felt the sting of his whip, there was only so much Kilmer would stomach.
“None of this is what I wanted, you arrogant ass,” Holloway replied. “Make sure you get my data to Mills tomorrow… without any further complications,” he shouted.
The phone went dead in Kilmer’s ear.