Dar as Daylight

I'M SORRY ITS' BEEN SO LONG!

I would like to say hello to my friends and readers who have toughed it out while waiting for this short chapter to arrive. I can't tell you how hard it is for me to walk the 12 feet from my bed to this computer console, which contains everything I need to move this story along. My brain feels and reacts like under-cooked oatmeal and the cancer that has me hurting in places I never knew could hurt this bad. My doctors have finally put me in a stage III trial, and continue to say I look better than any other patient they have. I wish I felt

My white count took a nosedive to 920, and they panicked. They had to stop the chemotherapy before they killed me with kindness. I just restarted the treatments this past Monday. They are now using my abdomen, instead of my arms for the IV fluids, because of my veins. I am awaiting the results of the latest lab test to see what is going on inside my body. It's nothing good probably, never is. I have no idea what is coming up next.

As far as the chemo is concerned, I have two more segments to go in round six, and there are a total of eight rounds in this program. I start round seven Monday. If the cancer is not in remission by the end of eighth round, the bigwigs will get together again, and either extend this course of action, or smile at me, say good bye, and hand me a script for pain medication and another for Marijuana so I can keep my food down. 76 years old and I am taking a drug I abhorred all my life.

Cancer patients are guinea pigs, nothing more, nothing less. My cancer is a virulent form of Multiple Myeloma. This is the second time in 9 years I've had to fight it. The first time, it was knocked out of my body in two years. It sounds like a long time, but with cancer it's not. This time it has established itself in the 'Bones and Dura of my spinal column, plus my hips and adipose structures of both legs. They use 'Preemie' needles on me now to get blood out of me. Thank goodness for the 'Port' in my chest for incoming meds.'

Every time I am outside, and see a tree, I smile. There are fewer and fewer of them around here now. Thank goodness there is nothing called "Global Warming."

Deforestation probably caused a great deal of it.

Have you ever noticed that hospitals never include green in their color schemes? Why is that? Bob

Chapter22A

1. Finding a way to save Jemma.

Drake Hamel went through every source he had, legal, semi-legal, and illegal trying to get Jemma a new heart from around the globe. He couldn't come up with one. Regardless of the amount of money he offered, the rules regarding transplantation in the United States, the two Williams would never approve what he did to save her.

He was in constant contact with Patrick, keeping him up to date on what was happening. Patrick was not happy with his progress. Patrick outright told him, "If you don't get me someone else's heart before my mother dies, I will cut yours from your chest and give it to her."

Drake knew Patrick was not kidding. He returned to work doubling his offices search for donors and closing it down to any other work. Before he retired, one of Drake's attorneys, Frank McTier, worked as a prosecutor for the U.S. Army for 23 years. In the normal course of doing his job for the Army, he had gone through nearly every military trial reaching back to the occupation of Berlin. There were several classic trials every prosecutor had to know by rote. The Army should have lost them, but the defendant's lawyers were either inept, or the defense team did not call witnesses who could have exonerated their clients. This information did not come out weeks or months after the trials. It came out years later, in Books, or in their Wills, that were written by Generals and Colonels, who were senior commanders on site at the time, and who wished to exonerate specific officers or enlisted personnel the Army wronged. Most of the classified field operation information was not disseminated. This one soldier had not been informed 'Officially' that he had been cleared of all charges and specifications against him, and that he had been raised to the rank of full Colonel.

Colonel Lucius C Canyon had also been awarded the 'Distinguished Service Cross/with two clusters' for his extraordinary bravery and leadership in the face of overwhelming odds in Bosnia/Herzegovina. The citation continued for more than 233 pages, more than any other recipient in the history of the award. The yellow oakleaf clusters, signifying his rank, and his Distinguished Service Cross, were in a small display with other awards at his alma mater, the "West Point Military Academy."

Drake asked, "What's your point Frank?"

"That man, that soldier, worked for William Zabo for more than 40 years, and as far as anyone knows, he is still alive. They may still have a relationship to this day, Drake."

Drake was on the phone to Patrick instantly.

"Of course, my father is friends with the colonel. Why do you want to know?"

"This Colonel's mind can be another avenue to check for leads Patrick. If I can talk to him, maybe he can send me in another direction."

"Let me ask my father and get permission for you to contact him. If you go there unannounced, you will not be coming back alive."

"I think I'll wait for permission to call."

"Excellent choice, Drake."

Patrick moved into the clean room, quietly and carefully. He walked over to his father's bed and whispered into his ear, "Dad, Drake wants to contact Colonel Canyon. He's run out of leads to get mom a new heart. I've threatened to take his, if necessary, and he wants to see if the Colonel can give him any other avenues to explore."

"He was an excellent contact for you Patrick. Write this down. Call 938 -- 741 -- 1109. The answer will be 'Central Station.' Drake is to answer, 'This is the Private. The Tree is Down. Contact Immediate."

"He will be on the phone in a moment, dad."

"Good work my son."

"Thanks dad."

***************************************************************

Drake's Lockheed Jet Star, landed at the recently completed Comex International Airport, on Vancouver Island, and was whisked away with Frank McTier in tow. Without going through customs, Carl and Mel walked them directly to the helicopter, with Paul waiting at the controls.

Frank said, "Patrick told us not to wear shoes with laces, because they could be used to harm or kill the Colonel. We didn't pack sneakers or deck shoes for that reason. We only packed loafers and boots to show you we only want to ask questions and receive information helpful to the Zabo family."

"Why didn't you fly Patrick's 747 out here?"

"Two simple reasons; it's too big to land at this airport, and it's too slow."

"I understand it's too big for this airport, but what do you mean it's too slow?"

"Even with a minimum weight, which this flight would have had, and a basic fuel load, the flight would have been restricted to .88 Mach. The Lockheed Jet Star is the fastest private aircraft ever built. Unrestricted it can reach .96 Mach at 59,000 feet. That's why we rented it over any other aircraft in the fleet. It's not as elegant as the Gulfstream, or as politically correct as the new Canadian Bombardier might have been, but there is nothing faster in the sky, and this is where we wanted to be."

Paul said, "Strap in tight gentlemen, I am going to show you Vancouver Island at 100 feet above ground level. It is a sight you will never forget."

Drake said, "I'd rather go straight to the Colonel if you don't mind, sir."

"I am a Sergeant, not a sir. You may call me Paul, or Sergeant, but never a sir. Is that understood Mr. Hamel?"

"Yes sir, I mean Sergeant, Paul. Please call me Drake, my father is Mr. Hamel."

"Thank you, Drake, it is a privilege. I know everything about you, including your less than stellar childhood, the first girl whose cherry you picked, and how you became the man you are today."

"My office couldn't do that in less than two days, and we have resources that are unbelievable and impenetrable."

"If I were you Drake, I would check on the impenetrable part. We had a field day with it."

"We have six of the world's best hackers checking on that site daily. How could they possibly have missed an intrusion like that?"

"Do you believe they only work for you, and your benefit?"

"We also have people checking up on them to see what they are doing."

"Yes, you do, and we have people checking up on them. We are but a very small cog, in a very large wheel. However, we have enough money and influence to keep that wheel greased and moving freely anytime it needs help. When we need information, it comes in very quickly. How does the name Patricia Jankoiac sound to you?"

"You couldn't possibly know about her. We were like two ships sailing side-by-side, and never meeting. We were putting books away in the closet at the back of the classroom, at the end of the semester of our eighth grade. For some reason, she pulled down my shorts, and gave me a blow job, a very quick one I might add. She never mentioned it to anyone. I never mentioned it to anyone, and when it was over, we continued stacking books. I don't think we looked at each other for the rest of the time in the closet. I know I didn't speak to her, and she never said a word to me. How could you possibly know about us? We went to separate schools the next year."

"Well, Drake, one of you must talk in your sleep, or she spilled the beans, because you just verified our information."

"I'll be damned. Caught in a trap of my own making. Very good Paul, excellent work."

"We will be going down over a waterfall very shortly, keep your eyes outside, that's where the beauty is."

Paul followed the nap of the earth for the 48 miles from the airport to the Colonel's compound.

Lucius heard the alarm go off for an aerial intruder, followed by the appropriate aircraft identification, and continued relaxing on the veranda. On his left side he had his close arms weapon, and on his right side, his long rifle. With his field of fire, no one was getting close to him that he didn't want to. His biggest problem, at this moment, was the itch in his leg, and he couldn't reach it to scratch it. The damn thing was healing, but not quickly enough for him. Now this phone call from William had his mind working overtime, and it felt wonderful. He only wanted his body to be as useful as his mind was at this moment, but it wasn't. He had to figure out a way to bring it up to speed quickly. He already figured out one way to help Jemma, but William would never go for it.

'A life for a life.'

No, his friend would never approve of it, even if it meant saving his beloved wife's life. He was working on an alternate plan that had promise, but that required a face-to-face with him. With his current medical condition, being complicated by what he found out in the hospital about his declining health, option number two was not out of play. How could he slip that one by William? No one slipped anything by that old man, not even him.

"Let me work on a 3rd option", he thought. Let me work out a way that all of us can live. Jemma will want to kill me when she wakes up healthy. Then she can read my will, and the three of us can be at their 130th wedding anniversary.

"That shouldn't be too hard, should it," he thought?

"My goodness, your old bastard, that is your third option. Patty's 'Stasis' Boxes. I will sell him hard on the second option and then relent on the third.' He will have to bite on that one."

Lucius heard the rotors of the helicopter spinning down in descent, arguing with every molecule of air to hold that aircraft steady, until Paul put it precisely where he wanted it. One inch off would never do for his son. He finally stopped target shooting with Paul, blaming it on his illness, because they were both equals in every possible way. He would never admit it, but Paul knew it, because of the gleam in his eyes.

Mel and Carl came around the corner of the veranda identifying themselves as they did. The Colonel gave them the safe signal, and they took up their assigned positions.

Frank McTier, and Drake Hamel walked into sight next carrying their attaché cases in front of them, followed by Paul. Lucius knew everything was right with the world, and the meeting was on. This was no longer a possible hoax by some high-level spook trying to get to him. These men were emissaries from William Zabo, his friend.

Paul entered the code that deactivated the Tasers and allowed access onto the veranda without injury to any person trying to do it surreptitiously.

"Good afternoon, dad, how's the leg?"

"I want a pet monkey, so it can scratch my leg from the other end. It itches like crazy."

"No pain, no gain, dad."

"You start that shit with me today, Paul, and you will be doing push-ups in front of me until the sun goes down."

"I guess you are going to miss your meeting, with these two fine gentlemen, your bathroom breaks, lunch, and dinner. Isn't that so, dad?"

"I hate it when you have the upper hand on me."

"Once in every 43 years shouldn't be too hard to take, Colonel."

"Well it is, and I still don't like it."

"Colonel Lucius C Canyon, it is my privilege to introduce to you two emissaries from Patrick Zabo, your friend, and William Zabo's youngest son. This gentleman is Drake Hamel, and this is Frank McTier. Both are harmless to you."

Drake asked, "You never frisked us, how do you know we are not carrying weapons of any kind, Paul?"

"When you entered the helicopter, you passed through a metal detector. The two seats you were assigned are attached to stress detectors. If you had any ill intent towards the Colonel, you would have been dropped overboard when we passed over one of the outlets to the Pacific Ocean, and never seen again. You never went through customs, and never entered Canada as far as their government is concerned. No one gets this close to the Colonel without me being sure of your intentions."

"He is very handy to have around Mr. Hamel."

"I want to know what his sources are that he has so much information about me and my work."

"No, you don't, and you never will."

"I have a lot of money, I can pay you very handsomely."

"Would you like to know your exact net worth Mr. Hamel as of last night, or would you like us to update it to today?"

"Even I don't know that Colonel Canyon; how could you possibly know? I would have to call five people, they would have to tally their numbers, and phone them into me to add them up. Yet you say you know my net worth?"

"I'm happy to say you are a very wealthy man, and you are not cheating the government by keeping an offshore account. I guess William has taught you well."

"I receive a $20 million check on 2 January every year from William. He doesn't ask questions, all he asks for is fidelity. I give that to him 100% of the time."

"You and I are two of a kind Mr. Hamel. However, my checks were much larger and more frequent than yours. This will be a very short meeting, because I have everything figured out in my mind. You will do the paperwork according to my wishes. William will countersign my signature."

"Paul is my heir. You will update that part of my Will. You can take your office off this business of finding a heart for Jemma and put it back to your normal work schedule. We will be leaving for New York tomorrow. Is your jet large enough for two more passengers, especially one in my condition?"

"No sir, it's too small inside, and you would be too uncomfortable for the long trip."

Immediately, Paul said, "Call Patrick, have him send his 747 to Vancouver International Airport, with full medical equipment, and staff onboard. It must include top notch cardiac and vascular surgeons, an anesthesiologist, and all the equipment they might need in the event of an inflight surgical cardiac emergency. 2, make that 4 very pretty-surgical nurses, and one orderly, who knows how to muscle around one insufferable old man.

"I will not take that abuse from you sergeant."

"You will until you can run without falling over your own feet again, dad."

"Drake, also, tell Patrick I want the inside of that aircraft to have no seats in the rear half of coach set up as an operating theatre. I want everything removed, and what remains sterilized from top to bottom as if a major operation was going to occur in-flight. The nurses will tell him is needed to get everything in proper order, and it better include a 'Heart Lung Bypass machine', just in case, everything goes south on the way there."

"We will be wheels up to New York by 10P.M. tomorrow night."

"10 PM tomorrow night, why not 9?"

Lucius said, "Mr. Hamel, if my Sergeant says we are leaving at 10 PM there is a reason. It may have no bearing on what you must do as far as your paperwork and our meeting. However, it has to do with the securing of this facility, and the 'Air Traffic' arriving in the New York area.

My sergeant leaves nothing to chance when it comes to me, my safety, the safety of my staff, and this facility. This is not just a home for me. It is a 'Worldwide Transmitting, Receiving and Distribution station for the Pacific Theatre of Operations, and therefore installations worldwide. There are things that must be done to secure all these systems, whether they are above, on, or below ground. Maintenance here is a continuous project and there are things that our Russian, and Chinese friends would love to get a close look at, or if possible, take home with them. If they believe for one second that this area is vacant, for an extended amount of time, they can send a team in to have a look. We used to have a 12-hour warning window, before the new airport opened. Now they can be on us in an hour by helicopter. All these things require coordination, and proper coordination takes time, Mister Hamel."

"All I see is trees, and a big house, colonel."

"That's all you're meant to see. The green wires that stretch for 4.75 miles along the Pacific coast are part of the U.S. Air and Submarine ultra low frequency transmitting and receiving system. Whether it is a group of Russian Bear Bombers taking a flight off the West coast of Alaska, and heading south towards Washington State, Oregon, and California, the Alaskan command knows it first, and we track them all the way down the Pacific Coast to Mexico. The system is so good we can tell you which bombers are flying on what days by the sound of their engines.

We listen to their submarine chatter, because the Russians are so paranoid, they want to know exactly where their subs are every 12 hours. They should call us, because we could tell them, within 30 miles, if they are in the North or Central Pacific, as far west as the Kamchatka Peninsula, and at exactly what latitude they are. Did you see the 7 satellite dishes we have on our property on your way in. I know Paul takes great pride in flying directly over 3 of them when he brings guest in for a visit."

McTier looked wide-eyed at the two men before he said, "You have all this stuff out in the open with no one guarding it?"

"What do you mean no one is guarding it? I'm here, Paul is here, Mel is here, and so is Carl. We have the Royal Canadian mounted police in the area if we need extra help, and if anyone tries to enter the country illegally, immigration stops them. This is a very secure area."

McTier said, "Bullshit, anyone could have walked in here and taken you out."

"How easy was it for you to walk onto this patio, Mr. McTier?"

"Paul twisted the handle, opened the door, and we walked in. It wasn't hard at all."

"Would you like to try it?"

"Sure, why not."

Paul said, "Frank, if you would stand by the edge of the screened area, approximately 15 feet away, and then walk right to the door and enter."