"Oahu Fifty-Nine"
"Oahu Fifty-Nine"
11/20/2016
I.
When the rough burlap sack was pulled off his head, Timothy Limbo tried not to react. In an instant, he took in the situation. He was tied at the wrists and ankles to a substantial metal chair that was bolted to the floor. The room was illuminated by a chilly blue light that came from indirect panels high up by the ceiling, and the walls were completely covered by sound-absorbing acoustic tiles.
He wasn't in pain anywhere. He hadn't been softened up or beaten at all, and the lack of hunger suggested he had not been unconscious for long. The last he remembered clearly had been hearing an odd scratching noise outside the door of his suite at the Royal Queen Hotel near the Barbers Point Naval Air Station. Tim remembered being suspicious and crouching down near the door to listen, then suffering a sudden dizziness.
And here he was. His best guess was that some sort of knockout gas had been sprayed under the door and he had inhaled a snootful. That gave him some wry amusement, considering how often his KDF team had used anesthetic vapor.
Timothy had been staying at an Airbnb for eighty dollars a night because he was cheap. The room had no balcony overlooking Waikiki Beach and no champagne in iced buckets from room service but he was happy with a clean dry bed and a working bathroom. He didn't ask for much.
Walking around from behind him came a tall young Asian woman. She was wearing dark blue slacks and a tan pullover with long sleeves. Fastened on the right side of her belt was a gold badge he didn't recognize. She tucked a stray lock of black hair back out of her face and gave him a cold appraising stare.
Timothy estimated she was twenty-four years old. Five feet ten, one hundred and twenty pounds, in excellent athletic condition. Judging by the facial bone structure and skin tones, he thought she was of Japanese ancestry but that wasn't his best area in analysis. Clipped to her belt behind a bony hip was a snub-nosed .38 Colt revolver and a smartphone was in a holding case on the other hip.
The woman did not seem inclined to speak. She stood with arms folded across her modest bust and stared at him coldly. Timothy gave her a pleasant smile but he did not begin the conversation either.
This stalemate might have gone on indefinitely but a section of the wall slid aside to reveal an opening. The door was not detectible when closed and the walls seemed unbroken. Standing in that opening was a trim athletic Asian man in his late twenties. He was wearing dark slacks, a short-sleeved white dress shirt and he had an identical gold badge clipped to his belt. As he strode into the room, an identical short-barreled revolver could be seen holstered at his right side as well.
The woman turned toward him expectantly, but it was the man who spoke first. "Thanks, Ahine. Well, mister, we've identified you."
"And who am I?" asked Timothy.
Reacting sourly to that flippant response, the man recited, "Timothy Jerome Lambert, aka Timothy Limbo. Born and raised in Westport, Connecticut. No military or arrest record. Since June of 2013, you have been listed as a full-time employee of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, a non-profit research organization investigating paranormal reports. Your address is given as 28 East 38th Street, New York City."
Timothy nodded. It was taking an effort of will not to start tugging at the straps which held him in the chair. "Now let me play," he said. "You're Hawaiian of Japanese descent, with traces of a Los Angeles accent that suggest you have not been living here more than five or six years. You injured your right knee recently. You are or were a member of the Honoloulu Police Department, probably a detective. College-educated and well-read. The young lady there is a close blood relative, probably a first cousin... no, a younger sister. She has joined the police force recently. I would say she's barely past rookie stage...."
He broke off at the astonished expressions on their faces. The man consciously assumed a poker face and turned to his partner. "He's guessing."
"Not exactly," Tim said. "Some of it is basic observation and some is cold reading, that is, your eyes confirm or contradict my deductions. Look at her knuckles. She has been studying a hard style martial art for at least three years. Remembering the Japanese background, I'd go with karate. Shotokan?"
"Kyokushinkai-kan," she admitted, speaking for the first time. "Brian, he's good at this.'
The man she addressed as Brian scoffed. "It's less impressive than it seems. Carnival tricks. He watches his target's reactions and changes his guesses to match. You need to take your situation seriously, Mr Lambert."
"Am I being charged with anything?"
"We'll decide that."
Peering at the gold badges as they had gotten closer, he made out a large '1959', a eagle with both wings spread and numbers at the base... an 11 for the man and a 22 for the woman. "That's interesting," Timothy said, "1959... that was the year that Hawaii became a state, right?"
Brian and Ahine exchanged glances and left the room without explanation. When the door closed behind them, the walls seemed unbroken again.
Left in the chilly silent room with its blue glare, Timothy took a deep breath and looked down at himself. He was wearing the same excessively loud multi-color print shirt and khaki shorts as before, with flip-flops on his bare feet. He tensed his leg muscles and decided that the pockets in his shorts felt empty. That was no surprise.
He had not been wearing the silk-thin Trom armor because his plan had been to loiter about the beach with a thousand other tourists. For the same reason, he had been about to leave behind most of the gadgets and weapons KDF members carried. His Link, sunglasses, a bottle of water and a towel to sit on had made up his gear for the afternoon. So, he reflected, at least his captors would not be getting their hands on any of the advanced Trom-design devices he normally carried on him.
Waiting, figuring these people were trying to get his nerves on edge, Timothy decided not to summon one of his caspers. He was certainly being observed by several cameras, even though he couldn't find the lenses from where he was sitting. If somehow his friendly ghosts showed up on video, he would have a lot to explain.
As Timothy was mulling over the unexpected situation, the hidden door slid open again. This time, a man in his early thirties walked slowly in and fixed an openly hostile stare on Tim. This was a man of Irish or Scots ancestry with thick black hair and blue eyes in a rough-edged face. He was wearing dark slacks, a white shirt with the collar open and a black suit jacket which held the gold badge on the left breast pocket.
Coming right up in front of Tim, this man folded muscular arms and stood with feet well apart. The body language suggested challenge and anger. "Let's talk about mass murder. When you and your gang came here from the mainland two months ago, you left twenty-three dead bodies behind. One of them was Professor George Kimowaua of the University of Hawaii. And here you are again...."
II.
Coming in over the Pacific too low for radar to pick up, the sleek black CORBY barely cleared some of the waves. The stealthcopter not only had no heat signature, its rotors used noise diffusers so that its passing was hardly more than a sound like a stiff breeze. Unless someone in a boat or plane happened to be looking in the right place, the odds of their being detected were extremely low.
In the pilot seat, Lauren Sable Reilly intently watched the row of small video screens and readouts. Her eyes moved from one dial or gauge to another, and then back to the vertical row of green figures and numbers that glowed on the interior of the windscreen. "Galvan, any response?" she said.
"Nothing," answered the big Melgar. Along with Jin, he was seated on the bench in the rear compartment. The clear plexiglass divider had been left open. Galvan was holding one of the Links and tapping its buttons, then waiting for some response on its screen.
Even sitting quietly in denim shorts and a white T-shirt, Galvan was an imposing sight. His body looked like a hard sculpted mass of muscle with no fat underneath the skin to detract from the high definition. The wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist in an V-shape, and his arms and legs were thick with perfectly shaped sinews. But his build was more functional than ornamental. He looked like a blacksmith and not a bodybuilder.
Galvan's dark brown hair and beard were curly and sprinkled with grey. Usually, he was quick to laugh and to tease, but at the moment he seemed as serious as his teammates. "Tim's Link has shut down, Sable. It is neither receiving nor sending signals. The only function still active is its location transponder."
At the stick, Sable shook her head sadly. Her thick black hair had been pulled back into a bun. In her black field suit with its waist-length jacket, she looked professional and grim. "This has only happened once before. When one of us is going to be out of sight of a Link, we change its settings or this happens."
"I wonder if Timothy simply forgot in his eagerness to go to the famous beach?" asked Demrak Jin.
"That's doubtful," answered Sable. "He's very good about procedures like that. Tim always checks three times to make sure he's locked a door or turned off a stove. No, I have to conclude that he has been taken prisoner and his Link was confiscated."
"I have a detailed reading on his location," the Melgar said. He read off longitude and latitude and then concluded, "In more down to Earth terms, he's inside a building on the west side of Route 93, six and one-half miles north of Kapolei. He's only sixty yards from the shore."
"I have a fix on it on my own Link," said Demrak Jin. Next to the towering Melgar, Jin looked even smaller than she was. Only a few inches over five feet tall, wiry and thin, she was wearing a long-sleeved tunic and pants of grey sharkhide with the rough abrasive side outward. As a Gelydra, she displayed the usual short bristly white hair and cloudy blue eyes in a sullen face.
Leaving the screen showing a blinking red dot on a map grid, Jin stowed her Link in a waterproof pouch which she clipped to her waistband. "I will find Timothy, captain. And if anyone has harmed him, they will deeply regret it."
Only inches above the ocean surface, Sable slowed the CORBY to a hover. Oahu was a thin dark line on the horizon. "All right. Jin, I know you can swim all day and night without tiring, so I'm letting you off here. When you make shore, find a chance to send us a 'green' signal so we know you are safe."
"Certainly." Demrak Jin unstrapped the restraints which held her to the bench. From where it hung on one wall, she took down what seemed to be a knapsack and shrugged into it. This was actually a hollow frame of aluminum tubing covered with fabric to resemble a conventional knapsack. Fastened within it was the weapon she had crafted herself, a three-foot bone blade with a handle of walrus ivory. It only required opening two velcro patches to draw the long knife.
Demrak Jin had stubbornly resisted camoflauging her treasured weapon this way. She resented it. But as she realized how it allowed her to walk around in public without drawing fearful attention, even the Gelydran woman had accepted it as a good idea.
Getting down on hands and knees by the side hatch, Jin called up to the cabin, "I'm on my way, captain."
Before the Gelydra could exit the craft, Sable snapped in a tone she seldom used on her team, "Remember your orders about restraint, Jin. I mean it."
"I hear you," grumbled the white-haired Ulgoran. She reached up to throw the lever and the hatch slid open. Hot salty air rushed into the back compartment. The Gelydra sprang out fifteen feet away from the copter, jack-knifed her body and disappeared into the water with hardly a splash.
"You can tell she's a creature of the sea," Galvan observed as he closed the hatch. "If she entered the Olympics high-dive competiton, she'd cause heart attacks in the judges."
That made Sable laugh. "I'd pay to see that. Don't worry about Jin, Galvan. She'll be fine."
"I know her capabilities," the giant Melgar said. He went back to the metal bench and lowered himself to fumble with the restraint straps. "I would have liked to go with her. I am tireless, you know."
"I know," Sable said. "You're indestructible and super-strong. Even for a Melgar, you're exceptional. But the plan is for you to approach from a different angle." She allowed herself a sigh. "Usually we fly into such isolated areas that no one is tracking us. Right now, we're within two miles of a US Air Force Base and I don't want them to scramble fighter jets over us."
Galvan leaned way over on the bench, watching her through the opening in the compartment divider. "Have you ever thought about operating under FAA regulations? Doing everything legally would make operations easy in many ways."
"With a CORBY? We can't allow the authorities to inspect this craft. The advanced Trom systems have to remain secret. This is basically a spaceship disguised as a helicopter, Galvan. The KDF is only allowed to use CORBYs because we give our Trom Girl membership at Tel Shai."
She swung the nose of the black stealthcopter west, skimming out to sea, heading away from Hawaii. "Not to mention, this is a civilian craft armed with twin 50mm chain guns. Right there is a felony prison time for everyone involved."
"I suppose," said the Melgar champion without enthusiasm. "And I can see where maintaining an additional regular helicopter inspected and approved by the FAA would be a huge added expense."
Turning her head for a mere instant, Sable smiled back at him. "I hoped you're not worried about Jin."
"More that I am worried about anyone who gets in her way....."
III.
"Aren't you required to read me my rights before questioning?" asked Timothy im the most reasonable voice he could manage.
"No. We do not necessarily follow the restrictions placed on normal police procedure. But you're here to answer questions, not ask them. How did you enter Hawaii? We checked the airport and the ship logs, and you are not listed anywhere."
Timothy flung his head back to get his mop of yellow hair out of his eyes. So far he felt no urge to urinate but he wondered how that necessity would be handled. "Look," he said. "For me to trust you, give me a little something to work with. You're not regular HPD. What's with the gold shields and the '1959' on them? Just give me some assurance I'm talking to the good guys."
The man interrogating him took a long moment to reply. Most of that was spent visibly reining in his anger. Finally, he managed a moderate voice as he said, "Fifty-Nine is a special counter-terrorism task force authorized by the Governor of Hawaii. We answer only to the Governor. We have been granted extraordinary latitude in carrying out our duties as long as we don't screw up. Fifty-Nine has a three-year mandate to carry out its mission, after which it will be disbanded."
"Okay, sounds reasonable so far," Timothy said. "And you're in charge."
"I am! Lieutenant Commander Bruno Matthew Barrett, USNR. As acting head of Fifty-Nine, I will now proceed to ask you questions and, believe me, you will be better off answering."
Meeting that openly hostile stare evenly, Timothy said, "My legal counsel is the Donna Worth Agency of West 85th Street in Manhattan. I think her daughter Taylor Worth is in San Diego right now. I want to make a call and have her present before we go any further."
Barnett leaned forward until he was breathing in Timothy's face. The Fifty-Nine commander had a narrow, tense face with deepset brown eyes which seemed perpetually angry. "No. You will not be given a phone call and you will not have a lawyer present. Fifty-Nine's work is too urgent for that."
"Now I know I'm not dealing with the good guys."
One open hand drew back as hard and rigid as an axe blade, but Barret still managed to restrain himself. "This State has been under a campaign of assault from terrorists and by espionage agents of both China and North Korea. We are acting during a state of emergency."
"That's just an excuse," Timothy scoffed. "Dictators and fascists always have pretty songs to justify what they--"
That did it. Barret backhanded the young blond man viciously across the face, snapping Tim's head far to the side. "You need to lose some of that defiance, son." Straightening up, the Fifty-Nine commander stormed out of the interrogation chamber.
Left alone, Timothy noticed that the blue light had been turned down into a dim haze and that the air was definitely colder. He exhaled and saw vapor from his breath. His cheek stunk from that slap and there would be swelling but he hardly noticed that.
Fifty-Nine? A counter-terrorism task force that broke the law for the greater good? Timothy wondered why he hadn't heard of this bunch before. Well, time to get some information. The dim light convinced him his caspers would not be seen. Tim narrowed his eyes and concentrated.
Coming into existence in front of him were two small tornadoes of barely visible moving air. Varying from five to six inches in length as they moved, the caspers hovered around him like concerned hummingbirds. He whispered, "Hey, it's okay, fellas, I haven't been hurt. Go take a look around."
Instantly, his friendly ghosts whipped around the interrogation room. They promptly found a ventilation grill hidden behind one of the acoustic panels and seeped through it. Letting go as long practice had taught him, Timothy could 'see' whatever the caspers perceived through their mystic perception. He had learned to shift rapidly between the caspers as they flew in different directions.
Odd, he thought as he followed one of the caspers up and down fluorescent-lit corridors. This did not seem to be like any police headquarters he had ever seen. Every room was either a standard office with someone doing paperwork or a common room of cubicles where typical office workers were tapping on computer keyboards or making phone calls.
Nowhere did he see the 'Fifty-Nine' logo or any police notices. Signs on the walls read 'Rapid Data Processing Co,' along with work schedules and plaques proclaiming 'Employee of the Month.'
Timothy frowned and withdrew his awareness from that particular casper. This didn't make any sense. If he didn't know any better, he'd figure that this Fifty-Nine squad was only using this one chamber beneath a regular office building. But why would they do that? He shifted his perception to find that the other casper had managed to get outside. The small whirlwind of force was circling over a parking lot filled with cars.
Then the casper swooped down where a small grim figure was marching across the parking lot. The seawater had already dried from her peculiar hair and from the sharkhide outfit. She did not even leave wet footprints. Demrak Jin stomped directly toward the back door of the building, her right hand reaching up to where the hilt of her weapon was concealed.
IV.
"Come up here, Galvan ," Sable said over one shoulder. "Flying this bird is a lot to ask of one person. It's like juggling on roller skates."
The Melgar champion barely squeezed through the open partition and settled carefully into the co-pilot seat. The top of his head brushed the instruments lining the ceiling and shoulders filled the space between the seats.
"This was not designed for a man of err substantial proportions," he grumbled as he strapped in.
"Hah! No. Jeremy won't admit it, but he had the cabin built to suit himself at six feet and maybe a hundred and seventy pounds. Are you going to fit okay?"
"Sure, sure." Galvan began studying the rows of dials and gauges. "I earned my helicopter license years ago. This is in some ways similar to a standard panel...I think..."
Sable pulled on the collective stick and began to rise. "Right now, I need you to keep an eye on the tracers. You see Timothy's signal?"
"Got it," Galvan said. "And now I also have a fix on Jin. Where is her tracer hidden?"
"Inside a fake molar at the back of her mouth," Sable told him. "She hates the idea. She put up so much fuss when I clipped it to her real teeth but I convinced her that it's one place not likely to be found in a search."
"Her signal has slowed down. I take it she has reached the beach. That girl swims like a torpedo, it's quite a sight." He smiled as two quick beeps sounded on the instrument panel. "That's her signal, letting us know she's on land."
"Good. Galvan, I'm hitting twenty thousand feet. How are their signals?"
"Nice and strong," said the Melgar. He was trying to find a way to extend his legs full length but couldn't manage.
"Fine. We're three miles out from the island. I admit it, I'm nervous about being around so much military hardware. Not only are we within sight of a Naval Air Station but Hickam Air Force Base is just down Ewa Beach. And the Honolulu International Airport is right next to them! There's enough radar signals in the air to pick up a mosquito."
Galvan laughed. "Really? I was told these CORBYs had Trom systems that realigned radar and heat detectors to make them invisible."
"Nothing is perfect," Sable replied. "Holding steady." She leaned back and consciously lowered her shoulders in an effort to release some tension. "Human technology is always getting better, you know. Smartphones are almost as good as our Links at this point."
Checking the row of video screens, Galvan seemed satisfied. "No planes have been scrambled, captain. I think we're okay. Any theories on what has happened to Tim?"
"We have too many enemies to pick a likely one," she said. "But I think it must be about what happened with the Menehune a few months ago."
Galvan peered down through the windscreen at the southern coast of Oahu far below. "Go on."
"There have been some scandals in Hawaii the past year. An anti-terrorism task force has been accused several times with using excessive force and unnecessary brutality. They've been violating civil rights of suspects with abandon. In one incident, they used full military hardware against suspected drugrunners. They've had several shootouts that endangered passersby."
"Sounds like the typical American approach to me," Galvan snorted.
"The group has been backed up both by Governor Lewis and by the State District Attorney's office," Sable said. "So far, public protests and lawsuits haven't gotten anywhere."
"And you think this bunch of paramilitary cops might have abducted Tim? What are they called?"
"They're called 'Oahu Fifty-Nine.' After the year Hawaii joined the Union." Sable swung the CORBY around and moved closer toward the shore. "I've been worried about clashing with them sooner or later."
A few seconds later, Galvan gave a start. "Sable. Look at this. Both signals are moving together. Do you think Jin and Timothy have escaped?"
Accelerating toward the island, Lauren Sable Reilly said, "No, quite the opposite. It's what I hoped would happen."
V.
Through the 'eyes' of a casper, Timothy Limbo had been watching as three men in business suits rushed from the rear of the building to confront Jin. He honestly expected a slaughter. With her strength and speed and ferocity, the Gelydra was perfectly capable to cutting down three gunmen in almost one continuous move. Her body was used to moving against the great pressure of the depths, so fighting in open air was easy for her.
But she raised her empty hands and went meekly along with them. Timothy's mouth fell open so his chin hit his shirt. That was so out of character! What was going on?
His connection with the caspers broke off as the door to the room slid open. The woman called Ahine stormed in, crouching as she unbuckled the straps on his ankles and wrists. Immediately, she yanked his hands behind him and clicked a pair of cuffs on them.
Stepping away from her prisoner, Ahine clapped one hand on the butt of her revolver as if praying to use it. "Let's go. We're relocating you."
"I could use a bathroom break first," he said. "Only be a minute."
"Shut up. Get moving." She shoved him hard from behind. "Damn stupid haole...."
"Does that mean no? OW!" he yelped as she cuffed him upside the head with an open palm. They stepped out into a corridor bathed with the same cold blue light. Doors at intervals showed no identifying numbers or plaques. To their right, the man called Barnett hurried up. Suit jacket gone, he had a Kevlar vest strapped over his torso and was carrying his sidearm drawn.
"This way, Ahine," he barked. "We're taking him and the girl in Van 3. The rest of the team has her secured."
"Girl?" asked Tim. "Not a tiny little thing with stiff white hair?"
"You! Quiet. From now on, keep your mouth shut unless we're asking you a question." He took Timothy's other arm, half dragging him at a gallop down the hallway. As they neared its end, the metal door clanked and swung open on its own to reveal the back end of a dark green van with tinted windows. The back doors were wide open. Between them, Barnettand up lifted Tim to toss him in, then slammed and barred the panel.
Sitting up in the empty rear compartment, Demrak Jin gave him a sardonic grin. "Ah, Timothy. I have come to rescue you, as you can see." She wriggled sideways so he could see her hands were also cuffed behind her.
"Oh my God, you ARE developing a sense of humor," Tim said. "Galvan is rubbing off on you. Good to see you, buddy."
"When your Link went dead, Sable started to worry about you," the Gelydra said. She grunted with effort, there was a clink behind her and she lifted her hands with the chain between the cuffs broken. There was blood on her wrists where the metal edges had dug in.
"That's why I never wanted to arm wrestle with you," Timothy said.
"Hold still, you silly person," the Gelydra said as she got behind him. A second later, his hands were free as well, although each wrist still wore one bracelet. "But keep your hands close behind you, my friend."
"Got it. We have a bit of surprise on our part this way. Thanks, Jin. We're dealing with an elite police unit that thinks it's above the law."
He examined the interior of the compartment in which they sat. Several restraint straps and cargo webbing on the walls were the only breaks in solid metal. The wall panel facing the front cabin where the drivers sat was closed and locked.
"I could kick the rear door open," Jin offered.
"It's tempting but I bet Sable would want us to go along meekly until we get these Oahu Fifty-Niners all in a group to tackle them in one move." He held up his open hand and a casper whirled into existence over it. The tiny whirlwind swayed as if listening, darted around the interior of the compartment and then squeezed out near the left wheelwell.
"Most vehicles are far from airtight," he told the watching Gelydra. "Hang on. Okay. It looks like the leader of this gang, Barnett, is driving. The woman is next to him. I don't see anyone else. You know, we're not making good speed. It's bumper to bumper out there."
"That will be a help if Sable is tracking us."
"Absolutely. I can't imagine how Hawaiians put up with traffic like this, unless today is unusual. I don't see how Barnett could even turn on flashing lights and a siren to get through because there's no place for drivers to pull over. What a mess."
As the casper returned and swooped around Timothy like an energetic dog waiting to be petted, Demrak Jin watched and smiled. She asked, "Can you send one of your creatures up to the CORBY and see how Galvan is doing? And Sable, too, of course."
The casper popped like a soap bubble and Tim settled back down. "They can't move that fast or go that high, Jin. Far as I can tell, they can catch a car at about fifty miles per hour and they can clear the top of your average office building. But they have limits."
The Gelydran woman drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. She dabbed at her injured wrists, but the bleeding had already stopped. "These fools took my knife. That was not unexpected. I did bring one of my older weapons and not the one I had just finished honing."
"Weapon or not," Tim said, "I bet before this is over, they'll be sorry they took you prisoner."
VI.
"We're up to thirty-five thousand feet," Sable said. "How are those signals?"
"They're flickering a bit, to be honest," answered Galvan. "I think we can still follow them."
"Let me know if you feel you're going to lose contact," she said. "This island is making me a nervous wreck. There's one Naval base or Air Force base after another. It's insane. So far, I see no indication that we've been detected...."
"Signals are still good," the giant Melgar told her. "Traffic is easing up a bit. The target vehicle just passed the town of Nanakuli and is picking up speed."
Reaching behind her, Sable unfastened her helmet and lowered it over her head with the deftness of long practice. The visor slid down with a click. Through the speaker grid in the helmet's mandible, her voice came clearly, "I need to make a few phone calls, Galvan. Keep one eye on the CORBY's status, will you?"
"Not a problem," he said. Although he came from Androval, an adjacent realm at a pre-industrial level, Galvan had traveled in the real world so long that he was comfortable with modern technology. The Melgarin might fight on horseback with swords and lances when in their own realm, but they had no trouble adapting.
Ten minutes crawled by. He could not hear what she was saying into the communications system in her helmet and he wondered if she was trying to contact Jocelyn Garimara back in New York.
Sable tapped the right ear pod and her visor retracted into the helmet crest. "That might help a little. It's amazing if you think about it. We're about as remote as you can get, fifteen hundred miles from land, yet I can make phone calls as if they're next door."
Before Galvan could press her on exactly who she had called and why, his attention snapped back to the monitor screens. "They've turned off the main road, captain. They're going right. It must be a private road, the map grid doesn't show anything."
Sable leaned over to verify, then swung the CORBY hard to starboard. She also began gradually descending. "Galvan, please make sure the weapons systems are ready. I know I checked them before we took off but it never hurts to make sure a second time."
"Chain guns deploy, ready for use. Check. Anesthetic spray hoses fore and aft, all ready. Pressure at maximum. That's it, Sable. These copters are not heavily armed."
"Yeah, sometimes I wish we had rockets or cannons or something heavier," she said. "But where would it stop? I worry that if we became flying gunships, we'd be quicker to use force when it's unnecessary."
"Good point." Galvan tapped the monitor with one finger. "The vehicle has stopped."
"All right. Stand by, we're going in." She tilted the CORBY's nose down and started what was almost a dive until they saw a narrow paved driveway beneath them between miles of lush vegetation.
VIII.
Circling a sprawling three-story whitestone mansion that had its own pool and tennis court, Commander Bruno Barnett brought the van to a halt at the rear of the building. He flashed his headlights three times and a man in black stood up from behind the retaining wall of a garden to wave that all was clear. A bright red Nissan was already parked by the wall but the other members of Oahu Fifty-Nine had gone inside to prepare for the prisoners.
Barnett hopped out and waved to the sentry. In addition to his Kevlar vest and the SIG-Sauer P226 holstered at his belt, he was now toting a M3 .45 caliber submachine gun, commonly called a 'grease gun.' He swung around in a full circle as if expecting an attack at any second.
Walking around to stand beside him, Ahine did not draw her sidearm. "What's up, Bruno?" she asked. "I was watching the whole trip, I guarantee we weren't followed."
The leader of Oahu Fifty-Nine slowly lowered his weapon. "I can't say exactly. But I've learned to trust my instincts. Something is wrong." As he finished speaking, his phone buzzed in his shirt pocket and they both gave a start.
"No one has this number except our team," he muttered as he held the device up to his ear. "Barnett. Who? All right, go ahead." He listened for a few minutes, made a few comments that were cut off. Finally, he ended with a furious, "I understand. All right! We'll have a long talk."
Ahine did not have to ask, her puzzled expression was enough.
"That was the FBI," her chief said. "Department 21 Black, to be exact. They're claiming the Menehune murders as a federal case under their jurisdiction and telling us to back off!"
"What? They can't do that, can they? We're Fifty-Nine, we don't answer to them," she said.
"I'll have to check with the Governor. He's always backed us before." Barnett was so enraged that his fingers hurt from how tightly they were gripping his gun. He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down just as the rear doors of his van slammed open. Two small feet could be seen sticking out as the doors exploded outward.
The tiny blonde woman in the sharkhide outfit leaped nimbly to the courtyard. She swung around to face them, fists clenched by her sides.
"What the hell? Did she just.. KICK those reinforced doors open?" said Garnett.
"It doesn't matter," Ahine replied as she unsnapped her holster and put her gun carefully on the ground behind them. "Look at her. She's aching for a fight. Well, I'm just the girl to give her one!"
The Gelydra stalked closer. Her face was surly at best but now it had settled into a rictus of anger. Ahine dropped into a forward leaning stance, drawing her right fist back by her armpit. Her left arm extended forward, bent upward at the elbow and ready to block. The Fifty-Niner let out her breath in a hoarse rasp.
...And she was taken completely off-guard by Jin's attack. The Gelydra blurred forward and effortlessly leaped up past shoulder level. Her fist smacked down at the base of Ahine's neck. That blow felt like being struck by a rock swung on a cord. Ahine grunted and fell face down, not even managing to get her hands up to cushion the landing.
Bruno Barnett had barely been able to follow the attack. So quick! It sank in with a cold shiver that this was not a normal Human he was facing. The Commander of Oahu Fifty-Nine raised his M3 and placed his finger on the trigger, ready to fire.
Demrak Jin growled.
Before Barnett could open fire, a huge dark shape swooped down seemingly from nowhere to hover thirty feet off the ground. It was a black helicopter, but more silent than any stealth craft he had ever seen. Even the spinning rotors seemed to generate little downdraft.
Behind him, Commander Barnett heard the rest of his Fifty-Nine team running up, but he hardly noticed. He forced his attention away from the sinister unmarked helicopter back to the weird woman he had just witnessed knocking out his best fighter with a single blow. Jin fixed a cold stare on him that had the single-minded focus of a born predator. Barnett knew he had never been in greater danger.
In the next second, the right-side hatch on the helicopter slid open and a man dropped straight down thirty feet to land in front of the blonde. The man's feet loudly cracked the paving when he hit, but he was unhurt. This was the biggest, most muscular, most intimidating specimen that Barnett had seen in a lifetime of combat. His nerve broke. He fired three quick bursts from the grease gun.
Galvan's T-shirt was instantly shredded by the barrage, but he himself wasn't harmed. Where the bullets hit him, the Melgar's skin indented briefly but straightened out again without being broken. White teeth flashed within the dark curly beard. Galvan raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Are you quite done?"
Another brief burst from the M3 also produced no damage. Some of the 45 slugs made whining noises as they ricocheted away and at least one broke a window in the house behind the scene. The big Melgar turned his head slightly to address Jin behind him. "Sorry, my dear. I'm sure you wanted to shove that gun down his throat."
"There is still time..." Demrak Jin muttered. She tried rushing past Galvan but the Melgar stopped her with an outstretched arm that she could not budge.
For some reason, this was when Bruno Barnett dropped his gun carelessly to the ground as he never had done before. His mouth was open, mouthing words that never developed. Flanking him were the other two Fifty-Niners, also stupefied by what they had witnessed. Bullets should not ricochet off a man's bare chest without even inconveniencing him.
From within the helicopter, a woman's voice boomed, "Commander Barnett! I am patching through a call to your phone. I suggest you take it."
Sure enough, Barnett's phone buzzed and he answered it in a rather distracted manner. "Hello, I mean, Barnett here. Yes. Yes, sir. I understand but Governor, it's our mission.. No, sir. I would not want that. Very well." He put the phone away and turned to his teammates. "Stand down, men. We're off the case on orders directly from the Governor. Take... take Ahine inside and see what medical attention she needs."
As the two task force members slung their assault rifles over their shoulders and gently carried their limp teammate into the mansion, Barnett squared his shoulders and faced these strangers bravely. Whatever happened now, he was determined to take it like a man.
The black helicopter lowered its landing gear and settled to the courtyard. The overhead rotors slowed and came to a halt. Both Galvan and Jin watched as the pilot hatch slid open and Sable hopped out.
From beneath the van, Timothy Limbo sheepishly emerged. "Don't look at me that way. You two are the supermen, I'm just Human. I didn't have armor or any gadgets on me."
"It was best that you remained out of the way," Galvan said politely.
"Yes," Demrak Jin added with a bit of a snarky edge. "Let the real warriors do the fighting."
Sable had approached Barnett, removing her helmet to face him directly. "So. I hated to call in support like that but we have helped 21 Black and the Mandate so many times. It's only fair they back us up once in a while. I trust your orders are clear, Commander?"
"Quite clear! I don't have to like them but I do have to obey."
"Good. I strongly suggest that you do not keep any records of this encounter. Do not discuss it with anyone. It's better for everyone that way."
Barnett nodded, but his stance with fists on hips remained defiant. "I don't seem to have any options at the moment, whoever you are."
Walking past them, Jin waved her fake knapsack cheerily. "I have retrieved my knife, captain. We can leave now."
"Everyone in the CORBY," Sable ordered. She replaced the helmet on her head. With its opaque visor down, she was an unreadable enigma. "I offer a truce. From now on, unless it's an extreme emergency, we will leave the Hawaiian islands to you and your Fifty-Nine team."
"Fine."
She backed up toward the CORBY, keeping an eye on the man. "I have to say one thing. I don't like the way you trample over peoples' rights. Maybe I'll see if I can presure the Governor to rein you cowboys in a little. You CAN fight monsters without becoming a monster yourself." As she gripped a handhold and pulled herself up into the hatch, she finished, "Maybe we will not have to meet again."
Watching the strange aircraft lift straight up with barely a whisper, Bruno Barnett did not speak until it was gone from sight. "Fine with me," he finally said.
1/29/2018
11/20/2016
I.
When the rough burlap sack was pulled off his head, Timothy Limbo tried not to react. In an instant, he took in the situation. He was tied at the wrists and ankles to a substantial metal chair that was bolted to the floor. The room was illuminated by a chilly blue light that came from indirect panels high up by the ceiling, and the walls were completely covered by sound-absorbing acoustic tiles.
He wasn't in pain anywhere. He hadn't been softened up or beaten at all, and the lack of hunger suggested he had not been unconscious for long. The last he remembered clearly had been hearing an odd scratching noise outside the door of his suite at the Royal Queen Hotel near the Barbers Point Naval Air Station. Tim remembered being suspicious and crouching down near the door to listen, then suffering a sudden dizziness.
And here he was. His best guess was that some sort of knockout gas had been sprayed under the door and he had inhaled a snootful. That gave him some wry amusement, considering how often his KDF team had used anesthetic vapor.
Timothy had been staying at an Airbnb for eighty dollars a night because he was cheap. The room had no balcony overlooking Waikiki Beach and no champagne in iced buckets from room service but he was happy with a clean dry bed and a working bathroom. He didn't ask for much.
Walking around from behind him came a tall young Asian woman. She was wearing dark blue slacks and a tan pullover with long sleeves. Fastened on the right side of her belt was a gold badge he didn't recognize. She tucked a stray lock of black hair back out of her face and gave him a cold appraising stare.
Timothy estimated she was twenty-four years old. Five feet ten, one hundred and twenty pounds, in excellent athletic condition. Judging by the facial bone structure and skin tones, he thought she was of Japanese ancestry but that wasn't his best area in analysis. Clipped to her belt behind a bony hip was a snub-nosed .38 Colt revolver and a smartphone was in a holding case on the other hip.
The woman did not seem inclined to speak. She stood with arms folded across her modest bust and stared at him coldly. Timothy gave her a pleasant smile but he did not begin the conversation either.
This stalemate might have gone on indefinitely but a section of the wall slid aside to reveal an opening. The door was not detectible when closed and the walls seemed unbroken. Standing in that opening was a trim athletic Asian man in his late twenties. He was wearing dark slacks, a short-sleeved white dress shirt and he had an identical gold badge clipped to his belt. As he strode into the room, an identical short-barreled revolver could be seen holstered at his right side as well.
The woman turned toward him expectantly, but it was the man who spoke first. "Thanks, Ahine. Well, mister, we've identified you."
"And who am I?" asked Timothy.
Reacting sourly to that flippant response, the man recited, "Timothy Jerome Lambert, aka Timothy Limbo. Born and raised in Westport, Connecticut. No military or arrest record. Since June of 2013, you have been listed as a full-time employee of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, a non-profit research organization investigating paranormal reports. Your address is given as 28 East 38th Street, New York City."
Timothy nodded. It was taking an effort of will not to start tugging at the straps which held him in the chair. "Now let me play," he said. "You're Hawaiian of Japanese descent, with traces of a Los Angeles accent that suggest you have not been living here more than five or six years. You injured your right knee recently. You are or were a member of the Honoloulu Police Department, probably a detective. College-educated and well-read. The young lady there is a close blood relative, probably a first cousin... no, a younger sister. She has joined the police force recently. I would say she's barely past rookie stage...."
He broke off at the astonished expressions on their faces. The man consciously assumed a poker face and turned to his partner. "He's guessing."
"Not exactly," Tim said. "Some of it is basic observation and some is cold reading, that is, your eyes confirm or contradict my deductions. Look at her knuckles. She has been studying a hard style martial art for at least three years. Remembering the Japanese background, I'd go with karate. Shotokan?"
"Kyokushinkai-kan," she admitted, speaking for the first time. "Brian, he's good at this.'
The man she addressed as Brian scoffed. "It's less impressive than it seems. Carnival tricks. He watches his target's reactions and changes his guesses to match. You need to take your situation seriously, Mr Lambert."
"Am I being charged with anything?"
"We'll decide that."
Peering at the gold badges as they had gotten closer, he made out a large '1959', a eagle with both wings spread and numbers at the base... an 11 for the man and a 22 for the woman. "That's interesting," Timothy said, "1959... that was the year that Hawaii became a state, right?"
Brian and Ahine exchanged glances and left the room without explanation. When the door closed behind them, the walls seemed unbroken again.
Left in the chilly silent room with its blue glare, Timothy took a deep breath and looked down at himself. He was wearing the same excessively loud multi-color print shirt and khaki shorts as before, with flip-flops on his bare feet. He tensed his leg muscles and decided that the pockets in his shorts felt empty. That was no surprise.
He had not been wearing the silk-thin Trom armor because his plan had been to loiter about the beach with a thousand other tourists. For the same reason, he had been about to leave behind most of the gadgets and weapons KDF members carried. His Link, sunglasses, a bottle of water and a towel to sit on had made up his gear for the afternoon. So, he reflected, at least his captors would not be getting their hands on any of the advanced Trom-design devices he normally carried on him.
Waiting, figuring these people were trying to get his nerves on edge, Timothy decided not to summon one of his caspers. He was certainly being observed by several cameras, even though he couldn't find the lenses from where he was sitting. If somehow his friendly ghosts showed up on video, he would have a lot to explain.
As Timothy was mulling over the unexpected situation, the hidden door slid open again. This time, a man in his early thirties walked slowly in and fixed an openly hostile stare on Tim. This was a man of Irish or Scots ancestry with thick black hair and blue eyes in a rough-edged face. He was wearing dark slacks, a white shirt with the collar open and a black suit jacket which held the gold badge on the left breast pocket.
Coming right up in front of Tim, this man folded muscular arms and stood with feet well apart. The body language suggested challenge and anger. "Let's talk about mass murder. When you and your gang came here from the mainland two months ago, you left twenty-three dead bodies behind. One of them was Professor George Kimowaua of the University of Hawaii. And here you are again...."
II.
Coming in over the Pacific too low for radar to pick up, the sleek black CORBY barely cleared some of the waves. The stealthcopter not only had no heat signature, its rotors used noise diffusers so that its passing was hardly more than a sound like a stiff breeze. Unless someone in a boat or plane happened to be looking in the right place, the odds of their being detected were extremely low.
In the pilot seat, Lauren Sable Reilly intently watched the row of small video screens and readouts. Her eyes moved from one dial or gauge to another, and then back to the vertical row of green figures and numbers that glowed on the interior of the windscreen. "Galvan, any response?" she said.
"Nothing," answered the big Melgar. Along with Jin, he was seated on the bench in the rear compartment. The clear plexiglass divider had been left open. Galvan was holding one of the Links and tapping its buttons, then waiting for some response on its screen.
Even sitting quietly in denim shorts and a white T-shirt, Galvan was an imposing sight. His body looked like a hard sculpted mass of muscle with no fat underneath the skin to detract from the high definition. The wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist in an V-shape, and his arms and legs were thick with perfectly shaped sinews. But his build was more functional than ornamental. He looked like a blacksmith and not a bodybuilder.
Galvan's dark brown hair and beard were curly and sprinkled with grey. Usually, he was quick to laugh and to tease, but at the moment he seemed as serious as his teammates. "Tim's Link has shut down, Sable. It is neither receiving nor sending signals. The only function still active is its location transponder."
At the stick, Sable shook her head sadly. Her thick black hair had been pulled back into a bun. In her black field suit with its waist-length jacket, she looked professional and grim. "This has only happened once before. When one of us is going to be out of sight of a Link, we change its settings or this happens."
"I wonder if Timothy simply forgot in his eagerness to go to the famous beach?" asked Demrak Jin.
"That's doubtful," answered Sable. "He's very good about procedures like that. Tim always checks three times to make sure he's locked a door or turned off a stove. No, I have to conclude that he has been taken prisoner and his Link was confiscated."
"I have a detailed reading on his location," the Melgar said. He read off longitude and latitude and then concluded, "In more down to Earth terms, he's inside a building on the west side of Route 93, six and one-half miles north of Kapolei. He's only sixty yards from the shore."
"I have a fix on it on my own Link," said Demrak Jin. Next to the towering Melgar, Jin looked even smaller than she was. Only a few inches over five feet tall, wiry and thin, she was wearing a long-sleeved tunic and pants of grey sharkhide with the rough abrasive side outward. As a Gelydra, she displayed the usual short bristly white hair and cloudy blue eyes in a sullen face.
Leaving the screen showing a blinking red dot on a map grid, Jin stowed her Link in a waterproof pouch which she clipped to her waistband. "I will find Timothy, captain. And if anyone has harmed him, they will deeply regret it."
Only inches above the ocean surface, Sable slowed the CORBY to a hover. Oahu was a thin dark line on the horizon. "All right. Jin, I know you can swim all day and night without tiring, so I'm letting you off here. When you make shore, find a chance to send us a 'green' signal so we know you are safe."
"Certainly." Demrak Jin unstrapped the restraints which held her to the bench. From where it hung on one wall, she took down what seemed to be a knapsack and shrugged into it. This was actually a hollow frame of aluminum tubing covered with fabric to resemble a conventional knapsack. Fastened within it was the weapon she had crafted herself, a three-foot bone blade with a handle of walrus ivory. It only required opening two velcro patches to draw the long knife.
Demrak Jin had stubbornly resisted camoflauging her treasured weapon this way. She resented it. But as she realized how it allowed her to walk around in public without drawing fearful attention, even the Gelydran woman had accepted it as a good idea.
Getting down on hands and knees by the side hatch, Jin called up to the cabin, "I'm on my way, captain."
Before the Gelydra could exit the craft, Sable snapped in a tone she seldom used on her team, "Remember your orders about restraint, Jin. I mean it."
"I hear you," grumbled the white-haired Ulgoran. She reached up to throw the lever and the hatch slid open. Hot salty air rushed into the back compartment. The Gelydra sprang out fifteen feet away from the copter, jack-knifed her body and disappeared into the water with hardly a splash.
"You can tell she's a creature of the sea," Galvan observed as he closed the hatch. "If she entered the Olympics high-dive competiton, she'd cause heart attacks in the judges."
That made Sable laugh. "I'd pay to see that. Don't worry about Jin, Galvan. She'll be fine."
"I know her capabilities," the giant Melgar said. He went back to the metal bench and lowered himself to fumble with the restraint straps. "I would have liked to go with her. I am tireless, you know."
"I know," Sable said. "You're indestructible and super-strong. Even for a Melgar, you're exceptional. But the plan is for you to approach from a different angle." She allowed herself a sigh. "Usually we fly into such isolated areas that no one is tracking us. Right now, we're within two miles of a US Air Force Base and I don't want them to scramble fighter jets over us."
Galvan leaned way over on the bench, watching her through the opening in the compartment divider. "Have you ever thought about operating under FAA regulations? Doing everything legally would make operations easy in many ways."
"With a CORBY? We can't allow the authorities to inspect this craft. The advanced Trom systems have to remain secret. This is basically a spaceship disguised as a helicopter, Galvan. The KDF is only allowed to use CORBYs because we give our Trom Girl membership at Tel Shai."
She swung the nose of the black stealthcopter west, skimming out to sea, heading away from Hawaii. "Not to mention, this is a civilian craft armed with twin 50mm chain guns. Right there is a felony prison time for everyone involved."
"I suppose," said the Melgar champion without enthusiasm. "And I can see where maintaining an additional regular helicopter inspected and approved by the FAA would be a huge added expense."
Turning her head for a mere instant, Sable smiled back at him. "I hoped you're not worried about Jin."
"More that I am worried about anyone who gets in her way....."
III.
"Aren't you required to read me my rights before questioning?" asked Timothy im the most reasonable voice he could manage.
"No. We do not necessarily follow the restrictions placed on normal police procedure. But you're here to answer questions, not ask them. How did you enter Hawaii? We checked the airport and the ship logs, and you are not listed anywhere."
Timothy flung his head back to get his mop of yellow hair out of his eyes. So far he felt no urge to urinate but he wondered how that necessity would be handled. "Look," he said. "For me to trust you, give me a little something to work with. You're not regular HPD. What's with the gold shields and the '1959' on them? Just give me some assurance I'm talking to the good guys."
The man interrogating him took a long moment to reply. Most of that was spent visibly reining in his anger. Finally, he managed a moderate voice as he said, "Fifty-Nine is a special counter-terrorism task force authorized by the Governor of Hawaii. We answer only to the Governor. We have been granted extraordinary latitude in carrying out our duties as long as we don't screw up. Fifty-Nine has a three-year mandate to carry out its mission, after which it will be disbanded."
"Okay, sounds reasonable so far," Timothy said. "And you're in charge."
"I am! Lieutenant Commander Bruno Matthew Barrett, USNR. As acting head of Fifty-Nine, I will now proceed to ask you questions and, believe me, you will be better off answering."
Meeting that openly hostile stare evenly, Timothy said, "My legal counsel is the Donna Worth Agency of West 85th Street in Manhattan. I think her daughter Taylor Worth is in San Diego right now. I want to make a call and have her present before we go any further."
Barnett leaned forward until he was breathing in Timothy's face. The Fifty-Nine commander had a narrow, tense face with deepset brown eyes which seemed perpetually angry. "No. You will not be given a phone call and you will not have a lawyer present. Fifty-Nine's work is too urgent for that."
"Now I know I'm not dealing with the good guys."
One open hand drew back as hard and rigid as an axe blade, but Barret still managed to restrain himself. "This State has been under a campaign of assault from terrorists and by espionage agents of both China and North Korea. We are acting during a state of emergency."
"That's just an excuse," Timothy scoffed. "Dictators and fascists always have pretty songs to justify what they--"
That did it. Barret backhanded the young blond man viciously across the face, snapping Tim's head far to the side. "You need to lose some of that defiance, son." Straightening up, the Fifty-Nine commander stormed out of the interrogation chamber.
Left alone, Timothy noticed that the blue light had been turned down into a dim haze and that the air was definitely colder. He exhaled and saw vapor from his breath. His cheek stunk from that slap and there would be swelling but he hardly noticed that.
Fifty-Nine? A counter-terrorism task force that broke the law for the greater good? Timothy wondered why he hadn't heard of this bunch before. Well, time to get some information. The dim light convinced him his caspers would not be seen. Tim narrowed his eyes and concentrated.
Coming into existence in front of him were two small tornadoes of barely visible moving air. Varying from five to six inches in length as they moved, the caspers hovered around him like concerned hummingbirds. He whispered, "Hey, it's okay, fellas, I haven't been hurt. Go take a look around."
Instantly, his friendly ghosts whipped around the interrogation room. They promptly found a ventilation grill hidden behind one of the acoustic panels and seeped through it. Letting go as long practice had taught him, Timothy could 'see' whatever the caspers perceived through their mystic perception. He had learned to shift rapidly between the caspers as they flew in different directions.
Odd, he thought as he followed one of the caspers up and down fluorescent-lit corridors. This did not seem to be like any police headquarters he had ever seen. Every room was either a standard office with someone doing paperwork or a common room of cubicles where typical office workers were tapping on computer keyboards or making phone calls.
Nowhere did he see the 'Fifty-Nine' logo or any police notices. Signs on the walls read 'Rapid Data Processing Co,' along with work schedules and plaques proclaiming 'Employee of the Month.'
Timothy frowned and withdrew his awareness from that particular casper. This didn't make any sense. If he didn't know any better, he'd figure that this Fifty-Nine squad was only using this one chamber beneath a regular office building. But why would they do that? He shifted his perception to find that the other casper had managed to get outside. The small whirlwind of force was circling over a parking lot filled with cars.
Then the casper swooped down where a small grim figure was marching across the parking lot. The seawater had already dried from her peculiar hair and from the sharkhide outfit. She did not even leave wet footprints. Demrak Jin stomped directly toward the back door of the building, her right hand reaching up to where the hilt of her weapon was concealed.
IV.
"Come up here, Galvan ," Sable said over one shoulder. "Flying this bird is a lot to ask of one person. It's like juggling on roller skates."
The Melgar champion barely squeezed through the open partition and settled carefully into the co-pilot seat. The top of his head brushed the instruments lining the ceiling and shoulders filled the space between the seats.
"This was not designed for a man of err substantial proportions," he grumbled as he strapped in.
"Hah! No. Jeremy won't admit it, but he had the cabin built to suit himself at six feet and maybe a hundred and seventy pounds. Are you going to fit okay?"
"Sure, sure." Galvan began studying the rows of dials and gauges. "I earned my helicopter license years ago. This is in some ways similar to a standard panel...I think..."
Sable pulled on the collective stick and began to rise. "Right now, I need you to keep an eye on the tracers. You see Timothy's signal?"
"Got it," Galvan said. "And now I also have a fix on Jin. Where is her tracer hidden?"
"Inside a fake molar at the back of her mouth," Sable told him. "She hates the idea. She put up so much fuss when I clipped it to her real teeth but I convinced her that it's one place not likely to be found in a search."
"Her signal has slowed down. I take it she has reached the beach. That girl swims like a torpedo, it's quite a sight." He smiled as two quick beeps sounded on the instrument panel. "That's her signal, letting us know she's on land."
"Good. Galvan, I'm hitting twenty thousand feet. How are their signals?"
"Nice and strong," said the Melgar. He was trying to find a way to extend his legs full length but couldn't manage.
"Fine. We're three miles out from the island. I admit it, I'm nervous about being around so much military hardware. Not only are we within sight of a Naval Air Station but Hickam Air Force Base is just down Ewa Beach. And the Honolulu International Airport is right next to them! There's enough radar signals in the air to pick up a mosquito."
Galvan laughed. "Really? I was told these CORBYs had Trom systems that realigned radar and heat detectors to make them invisible."
"Nothing is perfect," Sable replied. "Holding steady." She leaned back and consciously lowered her shoulders in an effort to release some tension. "Human technology is always getting better, you know. Smartphones are almost as good as our Links at this point."
Checking the row of video screens, Galvan seemed satisfied. "No planes have been scrambled, captain. I think we're okay. Any theories on what has happened to Tim?"
"We have too many enemies to pick a likely one," she said. "But I think it must be about what happened with the Menehune a few months ago."
Galvan peered down through the windscreen at the southern coast of Oahu far below. "Go on."
"There have been some scandals in Hawaii the past year. An anti-terrorism task force has been accused several times with using excessive force and unnecessary brutality. They've been violating civil rights of suspects with abandon. In one incident, they used full military hardware against suspected drugrunners. They've had several shootouts that endangered passersby."
"Sounds like the typical American approach to me," Galvan snorted.
"The group has been backed up both by Governor Lewis and by the State District Attorney's office," Sable said. "So far, public protests and lawsuits haven't gotten anywhere."
"And you think this bunch of paramilitary cops might have abducted Tim? What are they called?"
"They're called 'Oahu Fifty-Nine.' After the year Hawaii joined the Union." Sable swung the CORBY around and moved closer toward the shore. "I've been worried about clashing with them sooner or later."
A few seconds later, Galvan gave a start. "Sable. Look at this. Both signals are moving together. Do you think Jin and Timothy have escaped?"
Accelerating toward the island, Lauren Sable Reilly said, "No, quite the opposite. It's what I hoped would happen."
V.
Through the 'eyes' of a casper, Timothy Limbo had been watching as three men in business suits rushed from the rear of the building to confront Jin. He honestly expected a slaughter. With her strength and speed and ferocity, the Gelydra was perfectly capable to cutting down three gunmen in almost one continuous move. Her body was used to moving against the great pressure of the depths, so fighting in open air was easy for her.
But she raised her empty hands and went meekly along with them. Timothy's mouth fell open so his chin hit his shirt. That was so out of character! What was going on?
His connection with the caspers broke off as the door to the room slid open. The woman called Ahine stormed in, crouching as she unbuckled the straps on his ankles and wrists. Immediately, she yanked his hands behind him and clicked a pair of cuffs on them.
Stepping away from her prisoner, Ahine clapped one hand on the butt of her revolver as if praying to use it. "Let's go. We're relocating you."
"I could use a bathroom break first," he said. "Only be a minute."
"Shut up. Get moving." She shoved him hard from behind. "Damn stupid haole...."
"Does that mean no? OW!" he yelped as she cuffed him upside the head with an open palm. They stepped out into a corridor bathed with the same cold blue light. Doors at intervals showed no identifying numbers or plaques. To their right, the man called Barnett hurried up. Suit jacket gone, he had a Kevlar vest strapped over his torso and was carrying his sidearm drawn.
"This way, Ahine," he barked. "We're taking him and the girl in Van 3. The rest of the team has her secured."
"Girl?" asked Tim. "Not a tiny little thing with stiff white hair?"
"You! Quiet. From now on, keep your mouth shut unless we're asking you a question." He took Timothy's other arm, half dragging him at a gallop down the hallway. As they neared its end, the metal door clanked and swung open on its own to reveal the back end of a dark green van with tinted windows. The back doors were wide open. Between them, Barnettand up lifted Tim to toss him in, then slammed and barred the panel.
Sitting up in the empty rear compartment, Demrak Jin gave him a sardonic grin. "Ah, Timothy. I have come to rescue you, as you can see." She wriggled sideways so he could see her hands were also cuffed behind her.
"Oh my God, you ARE developing a sense of humor," Tim said. "Galvan is rubbing off on you. Good to see you, buddy."
"When your Link went dead, Sable started to worry about you," the Gelydra said. She grunted with effort, there was a clink behind her and she lifted her hands with the chain between the cuffs broken. There was blood on her wrists where the metal edges had dug in.
"That's why I never wanted to arm wrestle with you," Timothy said.
"Hold still, you silly person," the Gelydra said as she got behind him. A second later, his hands were free as well, although each wrist still wore one bracelet. "But keep your hands close behind you, my friend."
"Got it. We have a bit of surprise on our part this way. Thanks, Jin. We're dealing with an elite police unit that thinks it's above the law."
He examined the interior of the compartment in which they sat. Several restraint straps and cargo webbing on the walls were the only breaks in solid metal. The wall panel facing the front cabin where the drivers sat was closed and locked.
"I could kick the rear door open," Jin offered.
"It's tempting but I bet Sable would want us to go along meekly until we get these Oahu Fifty-Niners all in a group to tackle them in one move." He held up his open hand and a casper whirled into existence over it. The tiny whirlwind swayed as if listening, darted around the interior of the compartment and then squeezed out near the left wheelwell.
"Most vehicles are far from airtight," he told the watching Gelydra. "Hang on. Okay. It looks like the leader of this gang, Barnett, is driving. The woman is next to him. I don't see anyone else. You know, we're not making good speed. It's bumper to bumper out there."
"That will be a help if Sable is tracking us."
"Absolutely. I can't imagine how Hawaiians put up with traffic like this, unless today is unusual. I don't see how Barnett could even turn on flashing lights and a siren to get through because there's no place for drivers to pull over. What a mess."
As the casper returned and swooped around Timothy like an energetic dog waiting to be petted, Demrak Jin watched and smiled. She asked, "Can you send one of your creatures up to the CORBY and see how Galvan is doing? And Sable, too, of course."
The casper popped like a soap bubble and Tim settled back down. "They can't move that fast or go that high, Jin. Far as I can tell, they can catch a car at about fifty miles per hour and they can clear the top of your average office building. But they have limits."
The Gelydran woman drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. She dabbed at her injured wrists, but the bleeding had already stopped. "These fools took my knife. That was not unexpected. I did bring one of my older weapons and not the one I had just finished honing."
"Weapon or not," Tim said, "I bet before this is over, they'll be sorry they took you prisoner."
VI.
"We're up to thirty-five thousand feet," Sable said. "How are those signals?"
"They're flickering a bit, to be honest," answered Galvan. "I think we can still follow them."
"Let me know if you feel you're going to lose contact," she said. "This island is making me a nervous wreck. There's one Naval base or Air Force base after another. It's insane. So far, I see no indication that we've been detected...."
"Signals are still good," the giant Melgar told her. "Traffic is easing up a bit. The target vehicle just passed the town of Nanakuli and is picking up speed."
Reaching behind her, Sable unfastened her helmet and lowered it over her head with the deftness of long practice. The visor slid down with a click. Through the speaker grid in the helmet's mandible, her voice came clearly, "I need to make a few phone calls, Galvan. Keep one eye on the CORBY's status, will you?"
"Not a problem," he said. Although he came from Androval, an adjacent realm at a pre-industrial level, Galvan had traveled in the real world so long that he was comfortable with modern technology. The Melgarin might fight on horseback with swords and lances when in their own realm, but they had no trouble adapting.
Ten minutes crawled by. He could not hear what she was saying into the communications system in her helmet and he wondered if she was trying to contact Jocelyn Garimara back in New York.
Sable tapped the right ear pod and her visor retracted into the helmet crest. "That might help a little. It's amazing if you think about it. We're about as remote as you can get, fifteen hundred miles from land, yet I can make phone calls as if they're next door."
Before Galvan could press her on exactly who she had called and why, his attention snapped back to the monitor screens. "They've turned off the main road, captain. They're going right. It must be a private road, the map grid doesn't show anything."
Sable leaned over to verify, then swung the CORBY hard to starboard. She also began gradually descending. "Galvan, please make sure the weapons systems are ready. I know I checked them before we took off but it never hurts to make sure a second time."
"Chain guns deploy, ready for use. Check. Anesthetic spray hoses fore and aft, all ready. Pressure at maximum. That's it, Sable. These copters are not heavily armed."
"Yeah, sometimes I wish we had rockets or cannons or something heavier," she said. "But where would it stop? I worry that if we became flying gunships, we'd be quicker to use force when it's unnecessary."
"Good point." Galvan tapped the monitor with one finger. "The vehicle has stopped."
"All right. Stand by, we're going in." She tilted the CORBY's nose down and started what was almost a dive until they saw a narrow paved driveway beneath them between miles of lush vegetation.
VIII.
Circling a sprawling three-story whitestone mansion that had its own pool and tennis court, Commander Bruno Barnett brought the van to a halt at the rear of the building. He flashed his headlights three times and a man in black stood up from behind the retaining wall of a garden to wave that all was clear. A bright red Nissan was already parked by the wall but the other members of Oahu Fifty-Nine had gone inside to prepare for the prisoners.
Barnett hopped out and waved to the sentry. In addition to his Kevlar vest and the SIG-Sauer P226 holstered at his belt, he was now toting a M3 .45 caliber submachine gun, commonly called a 'grease gun.' He swung around in a full circle as if expecting an attack at any second.
Walking around to stand beside him, Ahine did not draw her sidearm. "What's up, Bruno?" she asked. "I was watching the whole trip, I guarantee we weren't followed."
The leader of Oahu Fifty-Nine slowly lowered his weapon. "I can't say exactly. But I've learned to trust my instincts. Something is wrong." As he finished speaking, his phone buzzed in his shirt pocket and they both gave a start.
"No one has this number except our team," he muttered as he held the device up to his ear. "Barnett. Who? All right, go ahead." He listened for a few minutes, made a few comments that were cut off. Finally, he ended with a furious, "I understand. All right! We'll have a long talk."
Ahine did not have to ask, her puzzled expression was enough.
"That was the FBI," her chief said. "Department 21 Black, to be exact. They're claiming the Menehune murders as a federal case under their jurisdiction and telling us to back off!"
"What? They can't do that, can they? We're Fifty-Nine, we don't answer to them," she said.
"I'll have to check with the Governor. He's always backed us before." Barnett was so enraged that his fingers hurt from how tightly they were gripping his gun. He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down just as the rear doors of his van slammed open. Two small feet could be seen sticking out as the doors exploded outward.
The tiny blonde woman in the sharkhide outfit leaped nimbly to the courtyard. She swung around to face them, fists clenched by her sides.
"What the hell? Did she just.. KICK those reinforced doors open?" said Garnett.
"It doesn't matter," Ahine replied as she unsnapped her holster and put her gun carefully on the ground behind them. "Look at her. She's aching for a fight. Well, I'm just the girl to give her one!"
The Gelydra stalked closer. Her face was surly at best but now it had settled into a rictus of anger. Ahine dropped into a forward leaning stance, drawing her right fist back by her armpit. Her left arm extended forward, bent upward at the elbow and ready to block. The Fifty-Niner let out her breath in a hoarse rasp.
...And she was taken completely off-guard by Jin's attack. The Gelydra blurred forward and effortlessly leaped up past shoulder level. Her fist smacked down at the base of Ahine's neck. That blow felt like being struck by a rock swung on a cord. Ahine grunted and fell face down, not even managing to get her hands up to cushion the landing.
Bruno Barnett had barely been able to follow the attack. So quick! It sank in with a cold shiver that this was not a normal Human he was facing. The Commander of Oahu Fifty-Nine raised his M3 and placed his finger on the trigger, ready to fire.
Demrak Jin growled.
Before Barnett could open fire, a huge dark shape swooped down seemingly from nowhere to hover thirty feet off the ground. It was a black helicopter, but more silent than any stealth craft he had ever seen. Even the spinning rotors seemed to generate little downdraft.
Behind him, Commander Barnett heard the rest of his Fifty-Nine team running up, but he hardly noticed. He forced his attention away from the sinister unmarked helicopter back to the weird woman he had just witnessed knocking out his best fighter with a single blow. Jin fixed a cold stare on him that had the single-minded focus of a born predator. Barnett knew he had never been in greater danger.
In the next second, the right-side hatch on the helicopter slid open and a man dropped straight down thirty feet to land in front of the blonde. The man's feet loudly cracked the paving when he hit, but he was unhurt. This was the biggest, most muscular, most intimidating specimen that Barnett had seen in a lifetime of combat. His nerve broke. He fired three quick bursts from the grease gun.
Galvan's T-shirt was instantly shredded by the barrage, but he himself wasn't harmed. Where the bullets hit him, the Melgar's skin indented briefly but straightened out again without being broken. White teeth flashed within the dark curly beard. Galvan raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Are you quite done?"
Another brief burst from the M3 also produced no damage. Some of the 45 slugs made whining noises as they ricocheted away and at least one broke a window in the house behind the scene. The big Melgar turned his head slightly to address Jin behind him. "Sorry, my dear. I'm sure you wanted to shove that gun down his throat."
"There is still time..." Demrak Jin muttered. She tried rushing past Galvan but the Melgar stopped her with an outstretched arm that she could not budge.
For some reason, this was when Bruno Barnett dropped his gun carelessly to the ground as he never had done before. His mouth was open, mouthing words that never developed. Flanking him were the other two Fifty-Niners, also stupefied by what they had witnessed. Bullets should not ricochet off a man's bare chest without even inconveniencing him.
From within the helicopter, a woman's voice boomed, "Commander Barnett! I am patching through a call to your phone. I suggest you take it."
Sure enough, Barnett's phone buzzed and he answered it in a rather distracted manner. "Hello, I mean, Barnett here. Yes. Yes, sir. I understand but Governor, it's our mission.. No, sir. I would not want that. Very well." He put the phone away and turned to his teammates. "Stand down, men. We're off the case on orders directly from the Governor. Take... take Ahine inside and see what medical attention she needs."
As the two task force members slung their assault rifles over their shoulders and gently carried their limp teammate into the mansion, Barnett squared his shoulders and faced these strangers bravely. Whatever happened now, he was determined to take it like a man.
The black helicopter lowered its landing gear and settled to the courtyard. The overhead rotors slowed and came to a halt. Both Galvan and Jin watched as the pilot hatch slid open and Sable hopped out.
From beneath the van, Timothy Limbo sheepishly emerged. "Don't look at me that way. You two are the supermen, I'm just Human. I didn't have armor or any gadgets on me."
"It was best that you remained out of the way," Galvan said politely.
"Yes," Demrak Jin added with a bit of a snarky edge. "Let the real warriors do the fighting."
Sable had approached Barnett, removing her helmet to face him directly. "So. I hated to call in support like that but we have helped 21 Black and the Mandate so many times. It's only fair they back us up once in a while. I trust your orders are clear, Commander?"
"Quite clear! I don't have to like them but I do have to obey."
"Good. I strongly suggest that you do not keep any records of this encounter. Do not discuss it with anyone. It's better for everyone that way."
Barnett nodded, but his stance with fists on hips remained defiant. "I don't seem to have any options at the moment, whoever you are."
Walking past them, Jin waved her fake knapsack cheerily. "I have retrieved my knife, captain. We can leave now."
"Everyone in the CORBY," Sable ordered. She replaced the helmet on her head. With its opaque visor down, she was an unreadable enigma. "I offer a truce. From now on, unless it's an extreme emergency, we will leave the Hawaiian islands to you and your Fifty-Nine team."
"Fine."
She backed up toward the CORBY, keeping an eye on the man. "I have to say one thing. I don't like the way you trample over peoples' rights. Maybe I'll see if I can presure the Governor to rein you cowboys in a little. You CAN fight monsters without becoming a monster yourself." As she gripped a handhold and pulled herself up into the hatch, she finished, "Maybe we will not have to meet again."
Watching the strange aircraft lift straight up with barely a whisper, Bruno Barnett did not speak until it was gone from sight. "Fine with me," he finally said.
1/29/2018