Palmer was as close to being a true secret agent as anything Ben Dare could imagine, having developed a legendary reputation for his uncanny ability to expose and circumvent the most sophisticated enemies threatening the United States. What’s more, his ability to strategize and design countermeasures to these threats was unparalleled. But these same intelligence-gathering qualities also served him well in private enterprise; his security firm had become especially adept at providing high-level personal security for the likes of movie stars, dignitaries, and the occasional rock star.
Although it was never publicly acknowledged, Palmer was also known to have close ties to a covert top-secret organization known as “cleaners,” the activities of which were so clandestine that even the FBI, ATF, and Secret Service would disavow any knowledge of their existence. In fact, not many people on the Hill knew of this elite group, and even for these few that did, their knowledge was typically limited to hearsay rather than direct experience.
Cleaners were utilized by the Executive Office when every other option was exhausted. They were capable of things that no other agency could accomplish, simply because they weren’t constrained by rules of diplomacy and could undertake actions other agencies would consider illegal. Whenever the Joint Chiefs of Staff or Armed Services Committee was presented with a problem that stretched the legal ability of the CIA, or there was a potentially significant diplomatic repercussion were the activity linked to the United States government, the cleaners were called in. Cleaners were rumored to have been responsible for several key assassinations, from John Kennedy to Jimmy Hoffa, but such claims were always vehemently denied as wild speculation. Irrespective of what the cleaners may have done in the past, their capability was an essential part of top-secret cold-war operations throughout the world.
Ben Dare suspected that Palmer himself was a cleaner, but had never broached the subject with the man. It was enough that he seemed to know how to contact these people and Ben left it at that. He anticipated that Senator Coscarelli would demand an audience with one of these agents, and Palmer’s help would be paramount in accommodating that request. Ben briefed Palmer on the status of the kidnapping and asked that he prepare a proposal to rescue the senator’s daughter, certain that Alfonse would be asking about this as a starting point.
With these preliminary calls completed, Ben steeled himself to make the call he dreaded the most. He dialed the senator’s private line.
“Good morning,” Alfonse Coscarelli said, answering the call.
“Good morning, sir, it’s Ben. I apologize for the early interruption but I have urgent news,” he said, choosing his words carefully.
“Go ahead, Ben. I’m up. What’s happening?” he asked warily.
“Senator, it’s your daughter, Sela and grandson, Jeremiah… they’ve both been kidnapped,” he said, taking ample time to convey every facet of the difficult situation involving his family. The senator took the news hard. He listened quietly as Ben described in-depth the entire sordid ordeal. Ben figured his boss must surely be in shock, but surprisingly, the senator maintained his composure.
After a slight pause the senator replied, “Okay, Ben, I appreciate all you’ve done. It’s mighty difficult for me to understand how both of my daughters and grandson could be tied up with this mess, but I guess we’ll learn soon enough who’s behind it. I’ll be in my office by nine. Please have the gentlemen you’ve briefed available as early as possible.”
“No need to apologize, Senator. I can only imagine what you’re going through. I’ll make certain that Vickers and Palmer will be available to brief you shortly after nine, sir. Goodbye.”
Ben was thankful that the call was over and the senator had taken the news rather well, considering its severity. There was no telling where this story would end up, but with Emerson Palmer involved, someone was going to pay dearly for taking Senator Coscarelli’s daughter and grandson. Ben Dare was willing to bet the house on that incontrovertible fact.
FORTY
San Jose, California
Jarrod Conrad had no idea where he had been taken by the kidnappers, having been sequestered in the back of a van totally devoid of windows. A divider between the front and the cargo area made it impossible to see out the windshield as they drove. The only thing he knew was that they drove exactly fifty-two minutes from Stanford University until they reached their final destination.
Jarrod’s kidnappers had made an uncharacteristic mistake leaving him with his laptop. While it didn’t have GPS capability, he used the time to compose several messages to Sarah, which he saved in the draft file of his email outbox. He had no idea when he might be able to contact her, but he placed the first message in his outbox to send at the first available opportunity. He hoped like hell there was Wi-Fi capability wherever he ended up, or this part of his plan was shot.
When the driver shut off the engine, he entered the precise time of travel from his house in the first message: “Sarah-at new location fifty-two minutes from house. Will confirm when see Jer. Stay safe…J.C.”
A moment later the back doors opened and the man named Colt asked that he exit the van. Jarrod stepped into a large warehouse about the size of a football field. There were multiple trucks, an over-head hoist, and sundry equipment filling most of the space, and one end exhibited several smaller structures encasing an office, storage, bathrooms, and presumably sleeping quarters. But what he saw in the very center of the building gave him goose bumps and quickened his pulse. Prominently displayed amongst an array of equipment- computer monitors, a forklift, various cables, and hardware-was a large flatbed trailer on top of which was unmistakably a full working model of his antigravity machine. Eureka! Jarrod thought. I knew this sham was about my gravity research.
Jarrod was exhilarated. For the first time he experienced the boundless joy of looking upon years of research brought to reality. Before him stood his dream-come-true, the culmination of a vision he had tenaciously clung to since childhood. He marveled at the huge magnetic housing that would contain the nuclear core; it resembled a typical electrical generator, except that it appeared to be lined with a thick lead shield. Radioactive insignia were prominent on its exterior.
Near the end of the trailer was the microwave dish that would focus the gravitrons. It was lying flat on the trailer, but Jarrod could see a hinge connected to a retractable hydraulic arm. This would extend and automatically focus the dish according to precise computer coordinates once the trailer was locked in position.
A series of cables led from the generator to the dish. Both of these large components were connected to a computer terminal at the center of which was positioned a seat for the operator to input the necessary formulae to operate the machine. The terminal was surrounded by a thick Plexiglas barrier, which Jarrod had not designed into his model, but it didn’t detract from the operation of the machine. In fact, he felt this addition sort of spruced up its appearance, giving the unit a cutting-edge, space-age resemblance.
Jarrod stood in awe, reflecting on the significance of the moment. He was soon interrupted by a rotund, balding man in a lab coat, swiftly approaching. Jarrod surmised the man was the programmer responsible for building this replica. He had a toothy smile as he approached, apparently oblivious to the unseemliness of their circumstances.
“Dr. Conrad, I presume,” he said, extending his hand as he closed the last few feet to where Jarrod stood at the back of the van. “I’m Aldin, Professor. It’s a high honor to meet you,” he added, eagerly shaking Jarrod’s hand. “I’ve had the pleasure of studying your research on antigravity particle acceleration and I’m proud to present you with a full working model, sir. Please, follow me.” Sweeping his hand with flair, he allowed Jarrod to precede him toward the machine. “I’d like to show you around; I have so many questions that only you can answer.”