The Eighty Eighth Key Ch 66

Chapter 66: Walpurgis Nacht

Callahan helped Didi to her bedroom located in the little studio up the hill, but he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by what had just passed between them. Still, he hardly understood what had really happened.

One moment he was helping her stand and the next she was pushing him down and mounting him, and yet he'd never experienced such a frantic coupling in his life. Didi had seemed possessed and even now, back in the studio's bedroom, she was acting strangely — like a caged tigress pacing back and forth in her bare enclosure.

Deborah came in with them and she helped Didi into the shower, and once they were free of her, Deborah commented on the utter strangeness of Didi's behavior. "Did something happen while Brendan and I were gone to get the car?" Deborah asked.

Callahan hated liars more than anything, just as he hated deceit in general — employed for any reason — but events on the beach now stood to put this to the test. "She was, well, very aggressive," Harry sighed as they left the studio and headed back down the hill to his house.

"Aggressive? How so?"

"Sexually."

"Well, I was curious. I think there's a little semen on your trousers."

"I had no idea..." he said, turning red.

"No idea of what? That she's been attracted to you? My goodness, Harry, any woman could see that, and I think she must have for years."

"Oh, no...but I, well, I had no idea I could still get it up."

Deborah shook her head. "I'm afraid I haven't been a good enough companion to you, Harald. "You aren't that old, but I think you definitely are too young to be living with an old spinster like me."

"You mean enjoying your company and finding you to be an excellent partner isn't enough?" he said, perhaps a little sarcastically.

"I enjoy being with you too, Harald, but now you must excuse me if I feel a little inadequate."

"Hey, it takes two to tango, Deborah. Don't put all this on yourself; I haven't exactly been hot to trot, you know?"

"You have been through a lot, yet you are still a man..."

"That's no excuse," he added with a sigh, opening the front door to his house and stepping aside to let her by.

Brendan was standing outside on the rear deck looking out to sea, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand — when Callahan heard someone playing the piano. His piano. Suddenly furious he ran through the living room only to find his son Lloyd at the keyboard...

...and he looked up from the piano, smiled his Cheshire Cat grin — and once again disappeared.

"Did you hear that?" Callahan barked as he walked over to the Bösendorfer.

"Yes, of course," Deborah replied as she came up to Harry, "but...who was playing...?"

"Lloyd was here again."

"Lloyd...? Again? Harry, what's going on?"

Brendan walked in and looked around the room, then he shook his head. "There are too many people interested in you, Harry. Trouble is coming, and soon -- I think."

"What are you talking about, Brendan?" Callahan asked. "What do you mean by too many people...?"

"Maybe 'people' isn't the right word," Brendan replied, grinning as he pointed at a mote loitering in the shadow of a ceiling beam. "You're making a lot of enemies."

"Enemies? Why do say that?" Eisenstadt asked.

"The orca told me. He also told me to tell you to be careful."

"Wait a minute..." Callahan growled. "Are you telling me you were having a conversation with a fucking fish...?"

"No, I was having a conversation with a fucking mammal."

Callahan grumbled as he walked away, stumping for his bedroom and the infinite promise of a long, hot shower, but Eisenstadt turned and looked at the blue mote hovering inches from the ceiling, and then she saw another one across the room, and this one was pink — and she sighed, if only because the pink mote seemed to be hiding from the blue one.

'This really is getting complicated,' she thought.

"You're not kidding," Brendan said — before he walked out of the house and up to the little studio where Didi Goodman was undressing and getting ready to step in the shower.

+++++

When a new aircraft rolls off one of Boeing's assembly lines in the Seattle area, either in Renton or Everett, Washington, that aircraft will transit to nearby Boeing Field, located halfway between downtown Seattle and Sea-Tac, the main international airport. At Boeing Field, or BFI, airline-specific avionics are installed and tested and, after passing internal company checks, delivery flights to the ordering airline commence. Boeing Company test pilots join pilots from the ordering airline on a series of test flights that are structured to allow for thorough testing of all the airliner's various systems, especially those systems typically utilized during day-to-day operations. The first flight is usually a routine familiarization flight, and typically the Boeing test pilot acts as the pilot-in-command, this company pilot's job being to ensure that the airline's acceptance pilot is indeed up to snuff on all the airliner's systems.

This flight typically departs BFI and turns east, and it flies along the US-Canadian border just inside US airspace before turning south and shooting a touch and go at the international airport in Great Falls, Montana (GTF), before turning west and returning to BFI. If any of the the airline's pilots seem rusty or in need of systems remediation, the Boeing pilot may have the airline's offending pilot shoot an additional approach at the Boeing Co. airfield located in Moses Lake, Washington, before returning to BFI. More flights are scheduled, any bugs are run down and fixed, and only then is the aircraft delivered to the airline in question.

However...not all "commercial" aircraft manufactured by Boeing go to the airlines.

The Boeing Company's Airline Delivery Center is located at the northwest end of the airport, the Museum of Flight located about midway along the west side of the main runway (14R/32L), while tucked away in a nearly forgotten area near the southwest corner of the airport is a small apron typically packed with P-8A Poseidon maritime surveillance aircraft and the occasional KC-46 aerial refueling tanker. Security here is tight.

One morning in January, 2009, a small group of people drove up to this small apron in two blacked out Chevrolet Suburbans and they quickly boarded an unmarked Boeing P8. The aircraft immediately took off on runway 32Left and flew to the Canadian border before turning east, apparently heading for GTF on a typical Navy acceptance flight, but this P8 descended and disappeared from radar just east of Leavenworth, Washington. Ten minutes later the P8 reappeared on radar and continued, unquestioned, to Great Falls before returning to Boeing Field later that morning. Two pilots departed the aircraft, leaving no one else on board.

+++++

The De Havilland Beaver carrying Debra Sorensen and Daisy-Jane landed on Turner Bay, in Desolation Sound, British Columbia, and it taxied in to the floating dock at Bliss Landing and tied off. Debra and Daisy walked up to the little store above the docks; the pilot carrying her lone duffel bag while following a few paces behind. A few minutes later the pilot emerged and returned to his aircraft; he soon departed, returning to Vancouver, and Sorensen's team following Debra arrived by helicopter a few minutes later.

When the team went into the store they found the woman and her dog were indeed still there, only it wasn't Debra, and now reports were coming in that the Beaver had reportedly disappeared from radar.

Word was relayed to Delbert Moloch, and he was not amused.

+++++

The little Dana Goodman unit stood next to the General on the flat concrete apron, and for some unknown reason she had decided to hold his hand. He looked at her and smiled when she did, yet he was uncertain of her motives — and after talking with Taggart he was fairly certain he was being manipulated. With his free hand he looked at his wristwatch and noted the time once again and sighed, only now he noted she was staring at him.

Then he heard the rumbling motor of an old Pratt & Whitney nine cylinder radial Wasp Jr throttling down and he looked to the northwest and could just make out a little seaplane lining up to land on the Columbia River. Another few minutes passed before a Huey lifted off from the river, and this helicopter landed on the apron in front of the General a few minutes later.

Debra Sorensen and Daisy-Jane slid out of the Huey; Daisy ran up to Dana and gave her a kiss while the General met Debra halfway and then escorted her to the waiting C-20H. Ralph and Dana Richardson were already on board, as was Sumner Bacon, and within a minute the airstairs closed and the jet began taxiing to the active runway. The jet took off and turned to the southwest, bound for San Jose, California.

Debra briefly wondered what had come of Daniel Wingren, but after one look at the General's sour demeanor she decided she really didn't need to know right now.

+++++

Deborah Eisenstadt heard the shower running and running and eventually decided she'd had enough; she walked into Harry's bathroom and found the shower was indeed running -- but that Callahan wasn't in the shower. His towel was untouched, and there were no wet footprints on the bathroom floor. She called his name and this was met with silence. She looked for his prosthesis and found it propped up beside the laundry hamper, and his cane was there too, right beside it, and suddenly she grew concerned...

+++++

Brendan walked into the small studio expecting to find Didi Goodman there, but after he walked in he saw her lycra skin crumpled up on the floor outside the bathroom and he heard the shower running. He didn't want to intrude but he wanted to talk to her now so he called out her name.

And he too heard nothing in response.

He called her name out a second and a third time, and silence was the only reply.

He poked his head into the bathroom, not really knowing what to expect but half certain he would find Didi passed out on the shower floor — but no, the shower was running but was otherwise empty. Now confused, he walked around the little apartment attached to the studio, then he searched the studio proper — both with no success.

And now he was scared.

So he turned to face the far side of the sky and his fingers went to work, peeling back layer upon layer of time and space until he came upon something so unexpectedly frightening he literally felt like he might pass out...then his knees buckled and the lights went out.

When he came-to Deborah was shaking him, commanding him to wake up, to "snap out of it!" — and she seemed agitated, almost scared.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"In Didi's studio...where did you think you were?"

"I'm not sure. Why are you here?" he asked.

"Harry's disappeared. Where's Miss Goodman?"

"They're gone. Both of them."

"What do you mean, gone?" she cried. "Do you know where they are?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't think that's possible."

"What does that mean, Brendan?"

"I saw something. We can't go there."

"What did you see! Tell me!"

"Come close," he said as he peeled away the sky once again.

And when Deborah Eisenstadt looked inside she tried to comprehend what she was seeing, and when understanding finally came to her she began to cry.

88/66.2

The Air Force C-20H flared over the numbers at San Jose's Mineta International and settled on the runway, exiting left and turning onto the Victor taxiway on its way to a general aviation apron just south of the tower. Two more black Suburbans met the aircraft and all the passengers scurried rapidly down the airstairs and into the waiting SUVs without so much as a glance, then the caravan headed for the northbound 101, the two vehicles eventually making it to Sand Hill Road in Palo Alto. The Suburbans skirted the Stanford campus and passed the linear accelerator center as they crossed the 280, and at that point four more identical Suburbans entered the mix, escorting the caravan to a small group of unmarked office buildings inside a gated, self-contained campus overlooking Searsville Lake. All six SUVs pulled into a locked sally-port, and once all the overhead doors were secured everyone exited and walked into a heavily fortified and secured entrance foyer before getting into an elevator.

One of the escorting guards hit the 'Down' button and once the doors slid-to the elevator car began a minutes long descent down into the earth, and Debra Sorensen wondered just how far down they were going. Dana Richardson began fidgeting nervously, holding onto her father's hand so tightly he grimaced. Sumner Bacon cast a nervous, sidelong glance her way and he grinned cheerfully, if a little stoically, when he realized just how deep they were going.

And little Dana Goodman simply held onto the General's hand and stared at him. If she had any concerns at all she gave no voice to them.

When the doors finally slid open the were confronted by yet another security team, and at this point even the General had to produce his credentials. Then, with this out of the way, one by one members of the group were led to living quarters in a small wing, and Debra guessed there must have been sleeping facilities for several hundred people down here — yet the group passed these by and were ushered into a small office. Everyone but the General and Tracy were fingerprinted and photographed, color-coded ID badges were handed out and security oaths were meticulously recorded.

"What the hell is this place?" Ralph Richardson finally asked the General, perhaps when he couldn't stand the suspense any longer.

"It's an engineering facility, Mr. Richardson," the General replied. "That's all you need to know at this point."

"Why are we here?" Richardson asked, still a little flummoxed.

"We're here to figure out why Dana is here, and if there is, indeed, any commercial opportunity afforded by her presence with us."

"I hate to ask," Debra asked now, "but are we prisoners?"

"I'd really rather you didn't think of it in quite those terms, Miss Sorensen, but your movements for the next few weeks will be closely monitored and restricted. At least until we know what your father is up to, anyway; once we have a handle on that situation we'll reassess the situation."

"I'm not sure I like that," Debra sighed.

"Understandable," the General stated matter-of-factly. "But I'd ask that you consider my point of view. First, Dana claims you are her mother. Second, you have been demonstrating certain, shall we say, unusual abilities for not quite ten years, and these abilities may or may not be related to your...daughter. And, quite frankly, until I know more about these abilities I'm not certain I understand exactly what kind of security risk you may or may not represent."

"Me — a security risk?" Debra cried, now clearly exasperated. "What on earth do you..."

But the General simply held up his hand, in effect stopping her before she could complete her thought. "At this point, Miss Sorensen, I'm most concerned about the implications of your falling into the wrong hands, and by that I mean the people your father seems to be working for, and until I do I need to keep you out of their reach."

"Just who is my father working for?" she added.

"We can talk about that some other time," he said — his voice suddenly hard with an edge of finality. "We've all had a long day. I suggest we head to our rooms and get cleaned up for dinner. We'll have plenty of time to talk later this evening."

Debra remained fixed in place, yet everyone else walked off to the wing they'd been assigned to...until she noticed Tracy Abernathy had remained behind and was now just standing there — looking at...her.

"There's a lot going on here," Abernathy said, "and a lot I still don't understand, but take it from me, he only has your best interests in mind."

Debra turned to face her: "I noticed they didn't print you, or take your picture...?"

"I've been here before."

"With Richardson?"

Tracy shook her head. "No. With the General."

Debra seemed taken aback by this revelation. "So, do you know what's going on around here?"

"No, not really. Just the broad strokes, mainly because my area of expertise is very peripheral to the undertaking."

"So...what are 'the broad strokes?'"

Abernathy hesitated for a moment, then she just shrugged — and grinned, now a little impishly: "New technologies, I guess you could say. Now, let's find your room. I'm sure a shower would do us both a world of good."

"After six weeks at sea? My-oh-my Miss Scarlet, whatever do you mean...?"

+++++

Callahan came to, quite suddenly — and painfully — aware that it was blistering cold out...here. Wherever here was. He was curled up in a fetal ball, only now Didi was beside him — and she was as naked as the day she was born, and just coming to.

She tried to sit up then realized how cold it was out here, then she noticed Callahan was sitting beside her, that his lips were blue, and that his teeth were beginning to chatter. She looked around and realized they were sitting inside a large wooden bucket, but the sky overhead was so clear it was almost surreal. For a moment she wanted to reach up and pluck a star from the inky black sky.

They felt it then. A distinct humming vibration that seemed to be coming from someplace well below, and then it hit her: Callahan appeared to be about twenty years old — and both his legs were intact.

It took a moment for Harry to notice, and when he did he simply smiled then began to stand and help Didi up.

But before that could happen he looked around and gasped. "Holy mother-fuckin' son of a bitch," he mumbled as he pulled Didi up...

"Jesus," she whispered. "Is this for real?"

As far as either could tell they were in the forward lookout tower aboard the Titanic, but there wasn't a single light burning anywhere, and the bridge appeared to be completely unmanned. Smoke was coming from the stacks and the ship was easily cutting through the water at what felt like a decent pace, so Callahan concluded someone had to be aboard...someone had to be tending the boilers. Unless all this was an illusion...?

Then he heard Didi again.

"Oh...no..." she moaned...

...and he knew what was out there without even looking. It had to be...

Yes, a huge iceberg, now dead ahead.

He'd seen all the movies, knew what happened next and he reflexively reached for the bell's lanyard but then the absurdity of the situation hit him. There was no one on the bridge to hear the bell, no one to command the helmsman to turn the wheel, so he braced himself on the leading edge of the crow's nest and waited for the inevitable impact...

...yet it never came.

The great ship plowed dead ahead — hitting the iceberg with her slender rivet-plated bow — yet there was no sound of grinding metal, no explosion of shattering ice raining down on the foredeck — only a gathering darkness as the great ship plowed into a brackish mist.

Yet Callahan blinked as a glowing numbness spread through his limbs to his chest and finally to his face and eyes; he felt Didi by his side for most of this but within moments she disappeared. He reached out in total blindness, his hands seeking the rails of the crow's nest, but that too was gone and he suddenly felt very disoriented, almost unsteady on his feet — until he realized that there was now literally nothing underfoot.

Little pinpricks of streaking light began to resolve but then stark terror gripped his chest as he realized he was adrift — in what appeared to be space. His body slowly tumbling, there was nothing to reach out for, no way to steady himself, no way to stop this insane motion. Tentatively he took in a deep breath but he felt, again, nothing. No air flowed into his lungs. Yet he did not feel in the least like he was suffocating. 'That's not possible,' he thought — as his mind scrambled to make sense of this new reality. He brought his wristwatch to his face and hit the little button to illuminate the face — and though the light worked he saw that the second hand wasn't moving — and that too made no sense.