Blinding Fear (14 page)

Chapter 22

“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on, Ranjit!” Veena Javad yelled at her husband as he rapidly yanked a few hastily selected articles of clothing from his chest of drawers and stuffed them into a suitcase. “Since yesterday you’ve been running around like some kind of madman, buying all those camping supplies, freeze-dried foods, getting the car serviced when it’s not due. The kids are getting scared!”

He paused for a moment from his frenetic activities long enough to turn to his wife and intently look at her. “Did you do all I asked?”

“I don’t know....you gave me a big list.....Ranjit! What is going on!!”

He went to the closet and pulled out a couple of heavy jackets, sweaters and bluejeans. “How many times do I have to say this? I can’t tell you! At least not now.”

At that moment, their two children, a 10 year-old boy and 7 year-old girl, stepped into the door frame of their parents bedroom.

“Daddy, we’ve done what you asked us to,” the boy said, a slight quaver to his voice. “We’ve put all our winter play clothes into our backpacks.”

“That’s good, Rojan. Thanks!” he said, turning to look at his son. “Now. Are you sure you got everything Alisha will need when we go camping?”

“Yes, I put in her boots, heavy gloves, ski parka and pants—stuff like that.”

“Great! Now, I want both of you to go into the kitchen and take anything you can from our food cupboards and refrigerator and put all of it into shopping bags. No heavy stuff, though. No big cans or heavy boxes. And don’t worry about things in the freezer. Oh, and go down to the basement and get as many bottles of water as each of you can carry. Then put everything in the Yukon. Okay?” He forced a smile. Then said to his daughter. “Everything’s going to be fine, honey. We’re just going to spend some time in the mountains. That’s all.” He patted her cheek. “Off you go.”

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes filled with confusion and fear, trying to understand what her father was doing. She then turned to follow her brother.

Turning back to his wife, Ranjit asked again, “Did you get those things done?”

“Yes. Let’s see. I cancelled our cell phone service, internet and credit cards a few days ago. I went to the bank, pulled all our money out of checking and savings and closed the accounts. I went to the....”

“How much?

“From the bank? A little over $11,000. It’s in the Yukon’s glove box”

“What else?”

“I got the extra gas cans and filled them up. I also......”

“Did you get the ammunition?”

“Yes, but why!? Ranjit, I’m your wife! You can tell me things! It’s okay!”

“For both the 45 and 12 gauge?”

“Yes. Are you in some kind of trouble?!”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?!”

“The ammunition!”

“It’s in the car. For God’s sake, Ranjit, talk to me!!”

He ignored her and instead reached into the back of his closet and pulled out a leather hand gun case. He unzipped it and pulled out a classic, Browning Model 1911, 45-caliber, semi-automatic handgun. He released the clip, checked to see that it was fully loaded, then slammed it back into place with his palm. Rather than putting the gun back into its case, he put it into the waistband at the small of his back. He again reached into the closet and drew out a Remington, pump-action, 12 gauge shotgun. After checking it over carefully as well he went back to packing.

His wife watched with growing alarm, then sat down heavily on their bed. “That’s it, Ranjit! I’m not doing anything else or going anywhere until you tell me what this is all about!”

He stopped and turned to face her, his face softening. He thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a conclusion. “Okay. I’m sorry. It is work related. But I can’t give you all the details because it’s too dangerous for you to know them. All I can tell you is that there are some things happening in this country and abroad that could create.....what should I call it.....civil unrest. We just need to get away to someplace safe for a little while until things can quiet down.”

“‘A little while’? How long is a little while?”

“A few weeks. Maybe a few months.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “And just what is ‘civil unrest’ supposed to mean?”

He took her hands. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one, honey. You’ve heard the terms ‘need to know’ and ‘compartmentalization.’ That’s what I’ve got to invoke with you now. It’s not going to help us in the next few hours or days for you to have all the facts. Once we get away and get safe, I’ll fill you in on everything.”

Looking into his eyes she could see he had revealed as much of the truth as he could for now. She knew enough about his job at the NSA to realize that a great deal of what he did was highly classified and could present a national security risk if exposed. “All right,” she sighed.

“Thanks. I love you.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Now. Did you go next door to use Fred and Louise’s landline to check on your aunt’s cabin above Cottonwood Heights?”

“Yes. She said we can use it anytime we want. She said she’d leave the key under the flower pot near the back door. Instructions for the wind turbine and well will be on the kitchen table. Apparently, Uncle Jay keeps the place fully stocked with food and drinks so we should be good in that area for a while. The weather might be a bit dicey for the next few days, though. Apparently there’s the possibility of some snow above 6,500 feet over the next few days. The cabin’s around 7.”

“Did you put the snow chains in the Yukon?”

“They’re in the back with the extra gas.”

Rojan poked his head around the bedroom door opening. “Daddy. There’s a man at the front door who wants to talk to you.”

Ranjit’s head snapped around to look at his wife who could see the stark alarm in his eyes.

“Who is it Rojan?” Veena asked calmly.

“He wouldn’t say his name.”

Ranjit pulled the 45 out from behind his back, racked a cartridge, released the safety, then returned it to his waistband. “Stay here Veena! Rojan, go get Alisha and come back here. Nobody comes out until I tell you!”

Ranjit slowly walked down the hallway from the bedroom, carefully considering his options if his assumption about who was at the front door was correct. As he turned a corner toward the front entrance he could see he’d been right.

Quinten Gnash stood calmly on the front stoop, hands behind his back.

Ranjit approached his former partner with a hurriedly thrown up facade of calmness. He stopped well short of the door. He wanted to make sure there was adequate room between them in case things spun out of control. “Gnash. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you. It seems your phone’s been disconnected.”

“Yea. Our service here is really lousy. I’m probably going to change to Verizon instead.”

Gnash nodded in seeming agreement, then added, “Looks like you and the family are going camping. Got the Yukon all loaded up, I see. Headed to the mountains without a cell phone?”

“We just want to get away for a while without any distractions.”

The big man nodded again. “I suppose I can understand that—after all you and I have been through lately.” He paused. “Is your internet down too? I’ve tried sending you e-mails. I keep getting an ‘E-Mail Not Sent’ error message.”

“Sorry. Got no idea about that one. Maybe there was something wrong at your end.” Now it was Ranjit’s turn to pause for effect. “Tell you what. Why don’t we just cut out all the frigging small talk! Just come to the point, okay!”

“Sure. Works for me. I want you to come with me—right now! There are some loose ends we need to get wrapped up surrounding your departure from our operation.”

“Like what? I practically signed my life away right after I saw you last!”

“There are some more post-separation papers you need to sign the internal affairs people forgot about.”

“Wow. They’re really getting sloppy, aren’t they? However, I’ve got plans. We’re leaving right away.”

“There’re also some other very important documents missing from the conference room. You wouldn’t know anything about those by any chance?”

“Not a clue.” He’d had enough! “Listen, Gnash! Maybe you’re hard of hearing or something! I’m leaving! End of discussion!”

“I’m afraid I must insist!”

Ranjit now realized that he had no choice but to fall back to his final option. He also realized that Gnash still had his hands behind his back. He whipped out the 45 from behind
his
back and leveled it at Gnash’s face. “No, I must insist! I’m not going anywhere except with my family! I want you to drop whatever you’ve got behind your back—now!”

Gnash hardly blinked. “Don’t be stupid Javad. I can take that away from you in a heartbeat!”

“I think you may have forgotten. Before I made the unfortunate decision to come to the NSA, I spent five years with the Salt Lake City PD. I was fully certified with the 45 and I’ve had my share of fights.”

“You’ve got no chance. Just lay the gun down before I do something you’ll regret.”

“This is the last time I’m going to ask. Then I’m going to put a bullet in one of your kneecaps! Now drop it!” He lowered the barrel.

“And attract attention? I don’t think so.”

“Nearly all our neighbors are at work or school. A single shot will go unnoticed. Do it!”

Gnash began to lose his calm demeanor. “I’m definitely going to take pleasure in settling this score with you.” He released something from his hands. Ranjit heard, then saw the Taser clatter to the ground.

“Kick it out to the street!”

Gnash did so with one easy swing of his foot. The Taser skittered off the steps and down the driveway.

“Get in the house!” Ranjit snarled, backing up, holding the gun in his right hand while waving Gnash inside with his left. He knew he had to keep at least eight feet between himself and the man who was now his mortal enemy. He had no doubts that if given even a tiny opening his powerful, athletic adversary would take it. After that.....he didn’t want to think about it.

“Veena! Get in here! Now!” he screamed.

His wife started to rush out the door of the bedroom but the children tried to follow. She pushed them back and closed the door, then walked quickly down the hall. As she came into the study where her husband had Gnash cornered she stopped in horror at what she saw. “Ranjit! What are you.......”

“Don’t ask questions! Just go to the garage and get that big roll of duct tape.”

She darted out of the room and returned in less than 20 seconds with the roll.

He signaled Gnash with his gun, holding it in both hands. “Sit down in that swivel chair at the desk. Now!”

Gnash slowly did so, never taking his eyes off Ranjit, seething with fury, waiting for any opportunity.

“Spin around and face the wall!”

As Gnash did Ranjit realized he had only a split second window to take his next action. Quickly stepping forward before Gnash could try to take the offense, he delivered a vicious roundhouse punch to the right side of the other man’s jaw between the chin and ear. During training at the Salt Lake PD he’d learned the technique. He knew that simply clubbing Gnash over the head with the gun might not knock him out—a carefully delivered blow to the jaw would. Although he felt as if he may have broken a finger or two, he was gratified to see his antagonist slumped down in the chair. He stepped forward and grabbed the heavily built man under the armpits before he slipped to the floor.

“Veena! Help me hold him!”

Together they wrestled him back to an upright position, then rapidly secured him to the chair with a multitude of duct tape wraps. Ranjit had no illusions the tape would hold such a powerful man for long, but then again they only needed a few minutes to get away.

“Go get the kids in the car. Hurry!”

As Veena ran from the room he looped a few additional wraps around Gnash’s head, covering his eyes and mouth but not his nose. Checking the unconscious man’s pockets he found Gnash’s cell phone, dropped it on the floor and smashed it under his heal.

A moment later Veena returned with their terrified children and together they raced to the Yukon. Just before piling in, Ranjit grabbed Gnash’s car keys from the ignition of his NSA pool car and stuffed them in his pocket. He also unscrewed the microphone from the two-way radio and threw it into the Yukon. Seconds later he started the big SUV and roared down the driveway, crushing Gnash’s Taser as he did.

Chapter 23

Christina pulled the golf cart into one of the half dozen small parking spaces exclusively reserved for them in front of the large, two-story administration building.

Claire stepped out and together with her host headed past beautifully manicured lawns and shrubbery into the main entrance. The lobby was decorated in an eclectic mix of space-themed art, statuary and large models of civilian and military aircraft dating back many decades. They walked up a sweeping staircase, down a wide corridor lined with other offices, then into Kayode Seok’s office by passing through an extra-large set of glass double doors, beautifully embossed with “KS Space Tourism, Inc.” Inside, two administrative aids sat at ultra-modern, plexiglass desks. One of them, an elegantly dressed, middle-aged Asian woman, looked at a clock on the wall—which told Claire they were four minutes early—then greeted them with a broad smile. “Thank you for being on time. You must be Claire McBeth. Kay’s earlier appointment will be wrapping up shortly. If you’d care to take a seat I’d be happy to get you some refreshments. Coffee, tea, water, perhaps.......?”

At that moment the doors to Seok’s personal office opened and three older, but very distinguished-looking men and two slightly younger women came out. They all looked happy. Trailing them, Claire immediately recognized Kayode Seok, also smiling. He was much taller than she had expected but just as strikingly handsome as presented in his pictures that her boss had provided.

“Thank you all for coming,” Seok said. “Sorry to cut our meeting off so abruptly. But I’ve got a very important meeting with that young woman over there.” He pointed toward Claire, “She’s a reporter from the New York Sentinel here to do a story on our efforts to get people like you into space. Hopefully, 18 months from now, instead of me, she’ll be interviewing you on your experiences while orbiting the earth.”

They all turned to look at her. Slightly embarrassed, she smiled thinly, waved and said, “Hello.”

Seok shook hands all around, gently ushered them out the glass doors, then turned back to Claire. “Ms. McBeth, how good of you to come.” He turned to Christina who was watching from a nearby water cooler, sipping from a paper cup. “And thank you, Christina, for ensuring she got here on time. I hope you’ve got her settled into her quarters and filled her in on some of the basics of our efforts here?”

Christina smiled and answered with a thumbs up.

“Excellent.” He turned back to Claire. “Please, come in.” He gestured toward the open doors of his personal office.

‘Wow,’ Claire thought as she walked in. ‘This guy’s got politeness and diplomacy down to a science. Wonder how much is show?’

Spacious, yet fairly simple and tastefully decorated, were her first impressions of his office. Surprisingly, instead of the usual “grip and grin” collection of photos of Seok with assorted VIPs, some of the walls were covered with what were apparently pictures of his family.

He saw her looking at them. “My wife Kyung-Hee and our six children and thirteen grandchildren,” he said proudly, his arm sweeping around the space. “Although my wife lives here in Texas with me, our children have scattered around the globe. I’d hoped I could have some of them work for our company one day but it didn’t work out. They’ve all got successful lives of their own.” He paused for a moment, looking at one photo after another. “Fortunately, with new communications technologies I can talk to and see them on a regular basis. They used to call us every day, but with their children coming along and growing up, it’s not quite so often now; every few days or so. Still, I’m very blessed.”

“I can see that. I can only hope if I have a family someday they’ll be as loving as yours.”

“Of that I have no doubt, given what an obviously successful woman you are. I must admit I am surprised Mr. Right hasn’t come your way yet.”

“Thank you for the compliment Mr. Seok, but there aren’t very many Mr. Rights left in the world for me.”

“Do not worry. Sometimes it takes a while.” He stopped for a second, looking around. “But I’m not being a proper host! Let’s sit on the sofa so we can talk in comfort. Also, why don’t we dispense with the formalities, shall we. Please call me Kay and I’ll call you Claire. Is that all right with you?” He lead the way to a large overstuffed, 10-foot leather sofa set against the one wall that wasn’t decorated with Seok’s family. Instead, it held head-and-shoulders photos of several dozen men and women, neatly arranged in rows of three, with their names beautifully inscribed on small brass plaques beneath each one. The ratio was about 5-1 men.

“Sure. I’ve always felt a little a informality was a good thing in an interview,” she replied as they sat down.

“Good. It’s interesting, actually. When I lived in Korea I always referred to business associates using honorifics. Since coming to this country, however, I’ve discovered that a little less formality can be helpful in enhancing communications. Even so, let’s get down to why you’re here. What would you like to know about what we’re trying to do here?”

She pulled out a digital voice recorder from the small purse she’d brought along. “First, do you mind if I record all our conversations?”

“That would be fine.”

She stood the recorder upright on the coffee table in front of the sofa and turned it on.

“Why don’t we start with the photos on the wall behind us. Could you tell me why they’re here? I noticed many of them are well known celebrities, Fortune 500 CEOs and assorted industrial magnates from all over the world.”

“I have no problem in telling you they are the first in what I hope will be a long list of high-end clients who will take a trip into space with us. I do insist, however, that you not identify any of them by name, or photographically, in your article.”

“Naturally.” She twisted around to look up at pictures again. “So all of these people have made reservations for a space flight? Have they paid in full?”

He laughed softly. “That would be great, but no. They have put down a deposit to reserve a seat, however”

“How much?”

“Twenty percent.”

“For what kind of trip?”

“Some have reserved a seat on a sub-orbital flight only. Others want to take our 3-orbit flight, another group wants the 5- or 10-orbit flights. A few want our premium excursion—a 3-day trip to the International Space Station.”

“Would you care to tell me what the actual dollar amounts are for those flights?”

“The sub-orbital flights are $250,000 per seat. The full-orbital flights start at 2 million and range up to 6 million. If you want to visit the ISS, the cost is 40 million. We have also placed a premium surcharge on all seats for our maiden sub-orbital, full-orbital and ISS flights.”

“Which is...?”

“An additional 15%”

Now Claire couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “So all these people on your wall have already shelled out anywhere from a few tens of thousands of dollars to somewhere well above, maybe, 10 million?”

Seok nodded. “And I might add there are other flights that have additional surcharges associated with them.”

“Such as?”

“Well, use your imagination, Claire. During what other annual occasions would some people like to be in space?”

“Okay. New Years and Christmas come to mind.”

“Very good.”

“And the surcharges for those are.....?”

“30% and 25%, respectively.”

“Pretty steep! Some would say outrageous!”

“Not when you do the math. Historically, the cost per pound to put anything into orbit is around $10,000. If you factor in traditional supply-and-demand considerations we’re confident our rates are quite reasonable. We think we’re going to do better than the $10,000 per pound amount, but the costs can be very challenging to control.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Are there really that many ultra-rich people in the world looking for very expensive roller coaster rides?”

Seok smiled. “Last time we looked at the lists there were approximately 1,700 people in the world whose net worth was over a billion. The average net worth of those people was just a little shy of four billion. It might also interest you to know that about 200 of that group are women. The one thing you may be missing is that these are people who have experienced most of what the world has to offer in entertainment. Many of them are looking for something very new, very exciting and to use your roller coaster metaphor—kind of scary. That’s where we come in. If we get just 10% of all of them to take one of our trips we’ll be more than pleased.”

“I guess those people who left before me were potential customers as well?”

“All of them. And more than ‘potential,’ I might add. Combined they left 23 million of their dollars, euros, pounds and rubles on deposit with us for seat reservations.”

“Speaking of rubles—what about the Russians? They’ve already had some success.”

Seok frowned slightly. “For a long time the Russians wanted to be the first to do anything, almost without regard to cost, efficiency or quality. Yes, they’ve done space tourism first and there are some other things they do well. But from what I’ve seen, their excursions have been second rate. We’re all about an every-inch-of-the-way, first class experience. We think we’ll move ahead, then stay ahead of them and anybody else who gets into the arena.”

“I guess that explains why you’re in business—the potential to make lots of money. But what about how you got started? Building what amounts to an international spaceport in the middle of a desert must have put a serious dent in your personal bank accounts. Would you mind revealing how much?”

“Not at all. I’ve personally put up more than $400 million. I’ve also received substantial incentive packages from the State of Texas and the West Texas Commercial Development Agency to build it here. Virtually all of that has been in the form of tax incentives, utilities upgrades and highway improvements. I would be less than honest if I didn’t tell you I’ve also received several large grants and subsidies from NASA, the Air Force and the National Reconnaissance Office to put their people and some of their payloads into orbit from time to time. As I’m sure you’ll understand, which agency, the project and how much are topics I cannot discuss.”

“Of course.” Claire made a mental note to try to find out those vital details from other sources later.

She continued with a more innocuous line of questioning. “I also heard this land was once owned by the Air Force. They had a large number of aircraft and several thousand personnel stationed here.”

“Yes, that is true. From June of 1942 until early 1978 the Strategic Air Command had hundreds of heavy bombers stationed here. President Jimmy Carter closed it down as part of his defense cuts. It’s been turning back into dust ever since. It’s kind of sad to see the old photos of what was once a vibrant, very active air base return to being a home for tumbleweeds, rattlesnakes and scorpions. Not to worry, however. We cleaned them all out during early construction.”

Claire couldn’t help but shiver at the thought, then decided it would be best to move on. “One thing I don’t understand is how you can take so many reservations. Back in the days when NASA was using the space shuttle on a regular basis they were lucky to get four, maybe five off the ground per year. It looks to me like you’re planning on taking dozens of space tourists into orbit every year. How are you going to meet such a demanding launch schedule?”

Seok paused for a moment then said, “I have an idea. You’ve probably got lots of technical questions that would best be answered by a senior member of our team. Why don’t I send you over to meet him? I’ve already given him a heads-up that you might be coming. I’ve also asked him to give you the full tour of our facilities and aircraft and that he should standby to be peppered by many probing questions. Once you’re through with him, you and I can talk some more. How does that sound?”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

“His name is Herc Ramond. He’s VP for Launch Systems and Training as well as our senior pilot.”

“Where can I find him?”

Seok looked at his watch. “About now he’s probably in the gym. He’s similar to me in some ways. He has certain things to do every day at a certain time. I’ll have Christina take you there.” He walked to his desk, picked up the phone and spoke briefly to someone.

A moment later Seok’s office door opened and Christina came in.

“Would you please take Claire to see Herc Ramond,” Seok said. “As usual, this time of the day he should be in the gym.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him there a few times when I was working out myself. If you feel up to it, Claire, maybe you’d like to work off some stress from the trip; Hit the free weights, maybe the tread climber?”

“Thanks. The only thing I plan on hitting in the next few hours will be a good mattress.”

Together, they headed out the door.