The First End (11 page)

“What was the symbol?”

Korfa considered his response. He didn’t possess
the vocabulary in English necessary to describe what he had seen.
But he could draw it. Taking out a piece of paper and a stubby
pencil, he drew the symbol for Bill.

Bill and Lorna looked at it and both let out a
sigh. It was the US Air Force symbol. Lorna might not know the
significance of it, but her innate intelligence told her that it
couldn’t be good that an object belonging to the Air Force, had
been offered for sale halfway around the world.

The lawyer, however, knew what this meant. A
piece of the aircraft that had been ordered destroyed, had not been
destroyed. Somehow the pirates had succeeded in getting some of the
components off the ship before it had been reclaimed. He needed to
report this as soon as possible. It seemed obvious to him that
someone had killed the boy for the object.

Lorna thought so too. “You think this object is
why the boys were killed?”

“Probably.” He looked back at Korfa and handed
over another bill. “One more question. Do you know anyone who is
looking for American metal?”

The man grinned broadly and nodded. “Sure. They
sometimes come here to look. They never say, but I overhear.”

“Good. Who?”

“The Chinese.”

Bill and Lorna let out another collective
sigh.

A direct satellite link from the cockpit of the
private airplane allowed Bill the opportunity to talk to General
Hynes privately. Lorna sat in the passenger section enjoying a
bottle of cold, filtered water—an improvement over anything else
they had to drink recently. Luk Bol waited in his jeep outside,
keeping a wary eye on the American plane.

“Our experts confirm,” the General said through
the video screen, “that the object in question is the main CPU of
the prototype. It runs the targeting algorithms, early detection
systems, and evasion modes. Installed properly, it can be lethal in
unfriendly hands. We must retrieve it as soon as possible.”

“That might be a problem, General,” Bill said.
“As far as I can tell, the piece was smuggled out by the Chinese
about a week ago. No doubt their scientists are examining it as we
speak.”

The General cursed, and Bill watched the man
begin drumming his fingers on the table. “This is not acceptable,
Captain.”

“How dangerous is this piece? Can it be reversed
engineered?”

“The general consensus is that it cannot be.
Opening the seal on the box renders the CPU worthless. All data
will be lost and without the data, the schematics are worthless
too.”

“But…”

The General sighed. “But there is nothing to
stop them from using the one they have. It is more of a plug and
play piece of technology.”

“General, if I may, why build something that
would be so easy to use by the enemy? This isn’t some blasted home
computer we’re talking about.”

“This was a prototype, Captain. It was never
meant to go into combat. Heck, it was never meant to leave US soil.
If we started mass production, we would have engineered a piece
that would be worthless or at least secure if it fell into the
wrong hands.

“I see.”

“The point is, Captain, they can use the part
they have. They couldn’t duplicate it, perhaps, but they could
build a single aircraft around it or modify one they have to be
compatible with its systems.”

“That’s not good.”

“No it isn’t. At the very least, the Chinese
would have a single superior aircraft capable of creating havoc
over the skies of less advanced countries. Blast it, Captain, it
could cause our own Air Force significant problems before we could
shoot it down!”

Bill sat back, trying to digest it all. “It
seems certain the Chinese have it?”

Hynes nodded. “The analysis of the burned cloth
that Lieutenant Lorna sent us confirms that the accelerant used was
of Chinese origin. This is too much of a coincidence to ignore. A
pickup in the chatter of their intelligence services suggest that
something big is going down.”

“Is there any way to retrieve the object?”

“Now that it is on Chinese soil? Very unlikely.
Even if we knew where it was at, we would have no way of getting it
short of a full military strike. The President is loath to commit
to something that extreme.”

Yes, Bill could see the political fallout of
that incident would make the Cold War look warm and fuzzy by
comparison. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Right now? Return Stateside. Once we locate the
part, we will try to put a covert plan into action to either
retrieve or destroy it.”

“So I’m done? I can go home?”

“You can come home, son, but we’re far from
through with you. The Joint Chiefs are reluctant to bring too many
more people in on the secret of this disaster. We want to keep the
people who are in the know to as few as possible. That means you
will remain on active duty until this crisis is resolved.”

Gardner sighed. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning that it will probably be you that we
send to retrieve the object.”

Heaving one last deep sigh, Bill said aloud,
“Why me?”

“Because we love you, son.”

The lawyer rolled his eyes. “Since when did the
military love anyone?”

“Oh, we love you. We love you when you follow
orders.”

“Figures…sir.”

“Always does.”

The line went dead, leaving Bill to his own
thoughts. He sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Finally, he
stood up and walked to the cockpit of the plane. The two pilots sat
chatting as he opened the small door. “Get the plane ready. We’ll
be leaving soon.”

“About time,” the blond pilot muttered. “This
isn’t the most hospitable country in the world.”

“The freaking country has gone to blazes,” the
other red-nosed pilot agreed.

“Just get us ready to takeoff. I have a little
business to attend to.”

The blond pilot eyed him askance. “You going
far?”

“No, just outside.”

Both pilots turned to see Luk Bok leaning
casually against his jeep. One other soldier sat in the jeep,
wrapping a red handkerchief over his head. Bill recognized the
soldier as one of the two had been ordered to kill the Mayor.

Good.

“He doesn’t look to be a very sociable fellow,”
one of the pilots whispered. “You sure you just don’t want us to
take off right now? We have clearance.”

“Somalia doesn’t have an air force do they?”

“No. Just a collection of rickety boats and lots
of guns. No planes to speak of.”

“Do they have a treaty with a neighboring nation
with an air force?”

“Nope,” blond pilot responded. “Their government
is still not officially recognized by any nation that I know
of.”

“Good.” Gardner spun on his heels and made his
way to the door. Lorna met him there, having overhead the
conversation.

“What are you going to do, Gardner?”

“There is no justice in this city. I thought to
add a bit before we go.”

She put a hand on his chest. “Don’t. You may
wind up dead, and I don’t know how I can explain that to the
General.”

He brushed her hand aside. “You saw what he did,
Lorna! You saw that little girl. I’m not going to let him get away
with it.”

“Don’t try to kill them,” she insisted. “That
won’t make matters better.”

“I won’t kill them. But if you don’t get out of
my way, I’ll move you myself.” His anger came bubbling up, a cold,
lethal rage that seethed like a cauldron too long on a fire.

Startled, Lorna stepped back, and Bill swept by
her and pushed open the door and activated the extending steps.
Before the lieutenant could say anything else or attempt to
interfere, Bill was down the steps and marching towards the two
mercenaries.

Both saw him coming of course, but the driver
took one look and then went back to being bored, figuring that Bol
would talk to and deal with the ugly American. Bol stood up
straighter and took a firmer grip on his automatic weapon. Perhaps
it was the way Gardner walked or the expression on his face, but
Luk Bol knew instantly why Bill was coming. He grinned as the
American walked up to him. “Hey, man, you going to teach me a
lesson, eh?”

Bill nodded curtly. “More than that, Bol. I’m
going to give you a new career.”

The inference was completely lost on the
murdering mercenary. The only warning Gardner received was the when
the smile dropped off the pirate’s face. Bill ducked as the big man
swung his rife viciously at the ex-marine’s face. The moment the
rifle cleared his head, Bill launched a vicious blow to Bol’s solar
plexus. The attempt to take Bill’s head off had turned the
mercenary’s body slightly so that Bill’s blow didn’t hit square.
The glancing punch only succeeded in knocking the pirate into the
side of the jeep.

He staggered, trying to regain position to keep
the American from hitting him again. Bill had other worries. He
snapped a kick at Bol’s weapon hand, and succeeded in knocking the
rifle from the other’s grasp. The assault weapon hit the side of
the jeep and clattered to the ground.

Bol cursed, and launched himself at the lawyer
with a roar. Although not trained in hand to hand combat as Bill
had been, Luk Bol possessed the instincts of a brawler who knew how
to fight dirty. Gardner twisted to avoid a knee to the crotch and
then felt himself practically bowled over as the pirate grappled
with him.

Bol was stronger…much stronger as Bill found
out. With a surge, Bol lifted Bill over his head and threw him
bodily to the ground. Bill hit the hard packed dirt with a short
cry of pain as he felt one of his ribs crack. He kept the presence
of mind, however, to roll partially aside to avoid a heavy boot
that tried to smash his face in. He then grabbed the boot, and
using it as a fulcrum, twisted around and cut Bol’s feet out from
under him.

An angry cry escaped the pirate’s lips as he too
found himself flat on the ground. Bill took advantage of his
opponent’s situation and rolled over the top of the other man,
delivering an elbow to the man’s nose that shattered it. Continuing
his roll, Bill came up off the ground having found and captured
Bol’s lost weapon.

The other pirate had slowly come alive with the
fight and Bill found him standing in the jeep with his own weapon
trained in the direction of the two combatants. He never expected
the American to come up with a weapon of his own and so stood their
mutely while Gardner calmly shot him once in the head.

“Sorry, Lorna,” he muttered. Well, he would
worry about breaking his promise to the woman some other time. He
spun around in time to see Bol grasping for him. He slammed the
butt of the rifle into the man’s ribs and heard a satisfied crack
of a broken rib. “Now we’re even,” he said loudly, standing to his
feet. He pointed the assault weapon at Bol, who seeing no chance of
escape, paused and spit at the American.

“Well, get on with it then,” he barked, wiping
blood away from his crushed nose.

“Remember that girl I was talking to?” Bill
asked. “The one right before your men killed the Mayor of
Merca?”

“What are you talking about, man?”

Bill sighed. The man didn’t even remember the
girl. The man’s twisted mind probably never recalled any of the
carnage or individual faces of his victims. “You killed her.”

The man glowered. “I killed many people, man. So
you kill me now?”

“No. I’m going to change your career.”

“What you mean by that, man?”

“You’re going to become the prey instead of the
predator.”

Bill calmly shot Bol in the right kneecap. Bol
screamed and grabbed at his shattered knee. He screamed again when
Gardner shot him in the left kneecap.

“You’re never going to walk again,” he hissed,
tossing the gun over the jeep where Bol couldn’t readily get to it.
“I suspect in a country like this, they will find little use for a
cripple!”

Tears of pain and fury seeped from the wounded
man’s eyes. He cursed and swore as the lawyer walked away. Bill put
the man out of his mind. He hoped somewhere the little girl would
rest more peacefully, knowing that the murdering scum would
probably not live long enough to hurt anyone else.

Lorna and the blond pilot met him at the door to
the plane. “You can leave now,” he said to the pilot.

The man looked past Bill to Bol, who writhed in
agony on the ground. “Yeah, I think we better.” He scurried off to
get the plane off the ground and headed towards the United
States.

Lorna said nothing. Her eyes were a mystery to
him. He didn’t sense condemnation, sadness maybe, but no judgment.
Bill figured that even if she didn’t say so, she agreed with Bol’s
fate.

“Let’s go home,” he said, wincing as his broken
rib caused a stab of pain to lance through his chest. “I may need
to see a doctor.”

Bill was badly injured. He was probably hit by
some object during the fight. Moments later, he plunged into the
darkness, leaving Lorna and the pilots to worry about his
condition. Nobody knew if he would make it through.

It took six months for the dreaded call to come
in. Bill had returned, nominally, to his law offices, where his
colleagues had pestered him to no end on his mission to Somalia on
behalf of Wastend. They didn’t know that Wastend had nothing to do
with the actual mission, but Bill figured even hinting otherwise
would land him in a military prison somewhere. ‘National Security’
and ‘Top Secret’ had been flung at him so many times since his
return that he felt jumpy just thinking about it.

His cracked ribs had healed nicely, thanks to a
military doctor that General Hynes had secured for him. Gardner
suspected that the doctor had been ordered to get the ex-marine
back into tip-top shape, for the man acted more like a drill
sergeant than a doctor when it came to ordering Bill around. He
found himself running more and doing more exercises than he thought
appropriate for a man healing from injuries.