Legacy of a Mad Scientist (35 page)

Two hours later, after an uncomfortable nap on lobby
couches, Geoff shook his sister awake.

“He’s still not back yet?” Ashley asked.

Geoff shook his head. “Ash, I hear voices.”

Ashley shot bolt upright.

Sure enough, from one of the units down the hallway,
Ashley could hear them too. There were voices, plural, as in more
than two.

Ashley was off the couch and pulling Geoff toward the
kitchen. They didn’t go through the door, but Ashley fished the
Micronix from her back pocket waited for a few moments in the
doorway.

“What are we doing?” Geoff asked.

Ashley raised her finger to her lips. She looked at
the door they were crouched beside. She could back through it, into
the kitchen and out of the central lobby. Opening it would make
noise. There was no way around that. Across the lobby, and up three
stairs, the hallway ran toward the intersection at the end

She looked down at the Micronix in her hand. She
pressed downward on the stiff button. It sunk a bit, but the blade
didn’t pop.

Ashley coughed and jammed down on the trigger. The
blade snapped out. It was not quiet, but Ashley’s ruse appeared to
have covered it. The conversation in the back room continued,
unbroken.

The wicked knife in hand, Ashley lowered her brow and
set out toward the hallway entrance, Geoff trailing along
behind.

They made their way down the hallway, toward the
three-way intersection at the top of the T. At the corner they
waited. The doorway to unit six, in the center of the hall, was
open. There were at least three people inside, maybe four.

“I can’t believe you sent me to Jerusalem,” the woman
said.

“I can’t believe you came back empty handed,” a
deep-voiced male replied.

“I did leave in something of a hurry,” she
answered.

“Regardless,” Ross interrupted the bickering. “What
we need to do now, is work up a believable cover and get them out
of here?’

“What did you have in mind?” the man asked.

“Vancouver,” Ross answered.

“That can’t actually be your plan? Canada?” the woman
asked.

“What’s wrong with Canada?” Ross responded.

“What about killing this son of a bitch?” the woman
replied.

“What about it?” Ross sounded tired.

“Well?” The woman directed this to another part of
the room.

“Well what? You heard him, he asked us not to shoot
him.”

“I think the President may have shined him on a
little bit,” a fourth voice suggested.

“That’s exactly what I think,” she replied, sounding
familiar somehow.

“What’s he after, then?” one of the men asked.

“Ha! Everything?” she replied.

“Fox told him about MacPhail and the Midway.” Ross
said.

Everyone laughed.

“Oh, you’re kidding?” someone said.

“I’m not. Our friend had him arrested, and MacPhail
asked for his lawyer, so now Woody is on his way to Glasgow for
some Manx kippers and the keys to the midway.”

The adults laughed loudly.

Ashley hit the button, retracting the blade; they
didn’t hear it. She slipped it back into her pocket.

“I didn’t think anyone was dumb enough to fall for
it,” the woman said. “Oh my god that’s priceless.”

“It gets better. After their scheduled visit to the
fabled vessel, our intrepid director is scheduled to visit the
Anserini-Chen Lodge, and ask for the managing director, Mr. Porter
about participating in the Annual Snipe Hunt.”

“He can’t be that stupid!” someone said, between
great belly laughs.

“Has he got anyone assigned to us at all?” Ross
asked.

“The Agency, the Bureau and the Marshall’s office
formed a joint task force. You guys got your very own Federal Posse
on your ass.” The third male said.

“They didn’t invite Ice and the Marlboro Man?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” The third
replied.

“It’s been twenty-four hours,” she objected. “Why
haven’t we killed this ass hat yet?”

“Are we back to this?” the deep-voiced one objected.
“Why don’t we just jump to the end, blow into the oval office and
shoot Potus?”

“who’s potus?” Geoff whispered to his sister.

“i don’t know. shhh,” Ashley replied

“This is what Fox was afraid of happening,” one of
the men said,

“Well at least we have
Cause
now. No one can
say it’s pre-emptive,” the woman answered.

Ashley couldn’t help thinking she sounded a lot like
her mom.

Geoff suddenly pushed past his sister and walked into
the unit. “Mom?” he said, in a loud shocked voice.

Ashley followed him, pushing open the cracked double
doors.

The woman was facing them, leaning against a
credenza. Behind here were windows onto the unit’s patio. The sky
cast her in sharp silhouette, but Ashley could still make out the
heavy battle armor she wore.

She looked directly at them. She looked a lot like
their mom, but it wasn’t her. Her hair was longer; she was a little
taller and much, much stronger. She looked a like her, but Ashley
could tell, this was not her mom. Still, they could have been
sisters.

Geoff had frozen in place, as had Ash, for a
moment.

They looked around the room. Ross was sitting in a
deep chair, his shirt off, his chest and arms bandaged up.

The other two men were also wearing some kind of
battlefield armor. The glass balcony doors were open. There were
three rifles leaning against the patio railing and short-range
weapons on the table, with exotic looking helmets.

Ross sat up. “Ashley, Geoff. These folks here are
friends of your parents. This is Jim Croswell, Master Sergeant
Steve King and Captain Analynn Snow.”

“How come you don’t have a rank?” Geoff asked
Croswell.

“I’m retired,” Croswell answered.

“What does Maj. Gen. stand for then?” he asked,
pointing the roughed and fading designation on the shoulder and
chest plates.

“Major General,” Croswell answered, pointing at the
three stars above the letters.

“You were a General?” Geoff asked, astonished.

“Yes, that’s right,” Croswell answered.

“And you knew my dad?”

“He was one of my best friends,” Croswell answered.
“I’ve known him since we were your age.”

“How come I never met you before?” Geoff asked.

“Cause I was working a lot, and so was your dad,”
Croswell answered.

“Are you working now?”

“You could say that.”

“I did say that,” Geoff answered.

Croswell smiled and tousled Geoff’s hair. “A complete
smart-ass. Just like your old man.”

Geoff smiled.

“So, they’re dead, our parents?” Ashley asked.

“Yes,” Croswell answered. “And the people who hurt
them could still come back.” Croswell glanced to Captain Snow.

“Aren’t you going to kill them?” Geoff asked.

“If they come near you, you bet we are,” Captain Snow
answered.

Ash wondered if she were still lying on the couch and
dreaming. The conversation was surreal. This was clearly her mom.
In some ways, she was more her mom than her real mom was.

“We just need to be careful.” Croswell said, looking
at Captain Snow. He looked back to Ashley and Geoff. “You two,
however, are going to be perfectly fine, don’t you worry.”

Ross coughed and sat up. “Yes, and we still have some
work to do here.”

“Guess that’s our cue,” Master Sergeant King said,
slamming his drink, rising from the couch and stepping toward the
balcony.

Ana took a step to the side, giving King room to exit
behind her.

King nodded to Ashley and Geoff. “Sorry guys. Your
dad was the best.” He stepped out onto the patio and picked up his
helmet and rifle.

Croswell finished his drink and stood as well. He
addressed Ashley and Geoff. “You’re parents were good people. I’m
sorry they were hurt. Stick close to Ross here. He’ll take good
care of you.” He stepped out onto the empty balcony.

Ash and Geoff both did a double take, realizing that
Master Sergeant King had vanished while Croswell was speaking
them.

Croswell put his helmet on, picked up his rifle,
adjusted something at his waist and disappeared, right before their
eyes.

Geoff blinked several times.

Captain Snow knelt before the children.

There were tears in her eyes.

She pulled them close and hugged them both. Her armor
felt cold and bulky, alien. She kissed them on the forehead.
“Smile, be polite, try and help people as much as you can. Ashley,
take care of your brother.”

Captain Snow stood, stepped out onto the balcony,
slung her rifle and picked up the remaining helmet. She put it on,
took a step upward, up into the air, and then vanished from the
visible spectrum.

Ash and Geoff stared at the empty afternoon sky as
Ross poured himself another dram from the almost empty bottle.

Saturday Afternoon, July 25, 2308

Ross returned with Ashley and Geoff to the kitchen to
help unpack the supplies. He seemed fine. He'd changed into a clean
set of clothes, and his previous injuries weren't troubling him at
all, allowing him to instruct the children in the preliminary steps
of their new project.

Ashley noted large quantities of sterno, compressed
propane canisters, motor oil, cooking oil, powered gelatin,
petroleum jelly, candles, liquid gas, pounds of cornstarch, soap,
and then came the surprises. Bags from a hardware store yielded
large quantities of nails, ball bearings, glass stones, as well as
real stones and granite shards.

Ross smiled and stepped over to the electric stove,
he set pots on each of the burners and turned them on to their
lowest setting. Then he filled the pots with oil. Once warm, he
began to add the thickening agents, the cornstarch and soap. He
showed the kids how to mix in large amounts of alcohol, diesel fuel
and finally the sterno. Ashley and Geoff watched as Ross used a
spatula to dig the flammable gel from can after can, all emptied
into the oil-filled pots.

Geoff turned up his nose at the pungent fuel-like
smell of the jellied alcohol. "What are we making?" he asked.

"Munitions," Ross answered.

Geoff looked confused but didn't ask for an
explanation.

"Ashley, would you unwrap those ice trays?" Ross
asked.

Ash peeled the plastic from the metal ice trays.

Ross gestured to the various boxes of steel nails,
glass beads and small ball bearings, "Get a big bowl and start
mixing all those together.”

Ross smiled at Geoff. "We're making bombs," he
said.

Geoff's eyes grew wide with amazement.

An hour later the pots still simmered, the flammable
gel bubbling around magnesium and aluminum shavings. Once Ross was
satisfied that most of the excess water had boiled off, the thick
gel was poured and scooped into rectangle cookie sheets covered
with waxed paper.

Ross instructed the kids to pour a layer of nails,
glass and sand over the gel. Then another thin layer of gel was
poured over the soon-to-become shrapnel pies. They were topped off
with a wet layer of sand, small rocks and wrapped in foil. Once
filled, the pots and pans were stacked in the otherwise empty
refrigerator.

Ross showed Ash and Geoff how to assemble detonators
from a quantity of plastic tubing and a spool of wire. He clipped
off six-foot lengths and taped them inside the plastic. He taped up
one end of the tube filled it with gel, squeezed through the
clipped corner of a plastic bag. Once finished, the tubes were
inserted into the pots and cookie sheets of explosives. Before long
the supplies were used up. The pots and pans filled the fridge and
freezer. They had also used most of the drinking glasses.

It was dark outside; they had cooked for six hours
straight.

Saturday Evening, July 25, 2308

Stanwood and Von Kalt arrived in Glasgow in the
middle of the night. The United Kingdom checkpoint required they
dock their vehicle for inspection. Stanwood flashed his ID and
suddenly all obstructions were removed, He even gained an official
escort.

The United Kingdom gave inter national cooperation
high priority when it came to partners like the Republic. The swarm
of sirens and flashing lights that descended upon MacPhail’s
residence was astonishing.

Unfortunately, Angus was not at home that evening and
missed the opportunity to appreciate the spectacle put on in his
honor, for the second time that week. Stanwood and the local
constable were informed that upon Mr. MacPhail’s release, only a
few days earlier, he’d returned home long enough to pack a bag and
go on holiday.

Stanwood had no idea, but was repeatedly informed
that Mr. MacPhail was some ninety-two years of age and in ill
health. The excitement of the trip to jail had ironically done
wonders for his spirits, and he’d decided, quite spontaneously,
that he wanted to travel.

His landlady, herself an esteemed matron north of
seventy, wasn’t at all sure of her tenant’s destination. She seemed
to recall him mentioning all sorts of exotic locals and freely
confessed that some of them may have been her suggestions, she
could no longer remember which was which.

When Von Kalt informed him of MacPhail’s reservation
in Douglas on the Isle of Man, Mrs. MacTavish perked right up.

“Angus was born in Peel. He has two sisters living in
Douglas and a brother up near Saint John’s,” she said.

Ross fixed a light dinner on what few plates were
left, and spent the evening showing the children the best ways to
wire the rooms and hallways. Together they laid out a fairly
complex defense grid. They chose the downstairs storage area as the
command post, running all the surveillance cables and detonation
wires through a hole they drilled in the floor of a closet.