Will is slinging over Manitoba right now on his way further east. He's installing communication repeater stations high in the sky over each province so that Will and I can still talk to the duty officer on the Wilizy when we are in New York, a trip that we'll be making soon. It only took him a couple of hours to come up with the solution and design the device. He's putting the repeaters inside small slings locked invisibly into a static position over a provincial landmark. Will expects to have the entire network of repeater stations installed through to New York by nightfall and will be home before midnight.
Doc and Granny offered to be Will's back-up in case something went wrong on his installation trip, but they were also hoping to have a little honeymoon. They had travelled by bus to Regina many years ago for a sports tournament but had never been any further east. I warned them about the perils in New York so I don't think they'll visit the city, but they may take a long look around what remains of Eastern Canada after Will is finished.
Yollie just came in to say that she knew what the DPS technician is hiding and gave me a quick summary. I called everyone back to the Wilizy for an evening meeting. I didn't want to interrupt Doc and Granny's honeymoon, but we really need Doc on this. It's going to be Wolf's operation to run. I have the broad outlines of the plan ready. Hank and Yolanda have agreed to bring three of their children into the operation and they're landing on the Wilizy deck now.
# # # # # # # #
From Yollie's journals: May 3rd and 4th.
After I told Scrawny Butt what had happened on my morning visit to the technician – let's call him Dopey because he's not so swift – I returned to his mountain perch, hid inside my sling and waited to see what he would do. Dopey tried to pry his brain-band off but with no luck. That surprised me because I've seen discarded bands and their rivets are quite short. A little pressure should have popped them out quite easily. He rummaged through a small tool case that he had on his belt and found a miniature screwdriver that wasn't much help because the bands don't have a screw head to turn. Then out came the jack knife and he started cutting at the flesh where the rivets would have been embedded, all the time mumbling some sort of mantra to help him cope with the pain, I guess. He was carving off bits of flesh, which was impressive by the way, and attacked all three rivets and eventually loosened them enough to pop them out. I looked at the bloody band later and the rivets looked long and nasty which may mean something to Scrawny Butt, but not to me.
Dopey but Brave mopped up a lot of blood with his shirt and wrapped the shirt around his head to stop the bleeding. He looked at his bare chest and pulled some cold ash from the fire pit and made some marks on his chest. Then he used one of his water bottles to wipe the marks off. Since that left him with only two full bottles, and no source of fresh water, I will continue to call him Dopey.
I left to establish my own camp for the night. When I checked him again before nightfall, he was standing, bare-chested on a promontory, looking down the mountainside. I expect he was hoping for a return visit from yours truly. Probably love at first sight. Naturally I obliged but not before zipping down below his line of vision first. I saw him watching me hoofing it up the mountain and then he turned away and went back to his camp.
When I saw him again, he was standing in front of his fire pit, both palms outstretched in a Stop position, which I did. He pointed to a black symbol on his chest. Bomb! He reinforced the message by pointing to himself and making arm waves like a bomb going off. The message on his bloody forehead was equally clear – he was a live microphone. I nodded that I understood and he beckoned me into the camp.
"The Wilizy aren't going to come, are they?" he asked.
"Not if that scrawny girl is the Wilizy. She's not allowed in our territory. I told you that this morning. You're going to starve here or die of thirst first. Let me take you to a friend who can start you on your way to the coast."
"Do you know where the Wilizy might be?"
"I don't know anything about them, remember? If anybody knew, it would be the border patrol."
"Could you find out and take me to where they are?"
"Why do you want to see them so badly? They obviously don't want to see you."
"I wish to join them. I am willing to reveal information about the DPS computer systems but someone will have to help me find the Wilizy." All the time he was saying that, he was pointing at the bomb on his chest. OK, not so dopey after all.
"I can't take you but I'll see if someone else can. You should go somewhere you're wanted."
He ignored me.
"If I can find a guide, he'll be here shortly after sunrise tomorrow. He'll bring some food and gear. If nobody comes, head downhill until you find a stream, fill your water bottles, and follow the stream to a river. By that time, you will have passed some small villages. Ask for help travelling to the coast!"
I tossed a bottle and a food bar at his hands but he promptly fumbled and dropped them. Then I walked away and reported to Scrawny Butt. She flew off somewhere in her sling for about an hour and then called an emergency meeting for this evening. Everyone but Will is going to be at the meeting. He'll be on the eastern side of North America but will still be able to listen in and talk. I can't believe what that guy can do.
# # # # # # # #
The next morning, I dropped my 8-year old brother, Mush-for-Brains, into Clumsy's camp while Clumsy was still sleeping. That would save the little munchkin a nasty hike up the mountainside. I'll have to talk with Doc about finding a better place to leave defectors if we ever get one again. Mush-for-Brains isn't my brother's real name, but it's what I call him when I'm feeling affectionate. I have other names I can call him, but they aren't so complimentary. His real name is Mathias.
We still didn't know where we're going to lead Clumsy. Wolf had pored over maps last night and had identified three possible sites that were reasonably close to us. We needed to keep Clumsy hiking for several days so that Wolf could prepare the battle site first, but we couldn't hike him too far or he'd be completely exhausted. Mush-for-Brains had the easiest leg today. Basically straight south following an established trail.
Mush brought two packs with him into camp – one with food and water and the other with better gear for Clumsy. My instructions to my brother were simple: don't answer any questions; don't volunteer any information; don't exhaust the city-boy.
Mush-for-Brains helped Clumsy set up camp that evening and walked away without saying anything. I picked him up soon afterwards and delivered him to the Wilizy where he received a hero's welcome. I may have hugged him once or twice myself.
# # # # # # # #
The Narrator: May 4.
"Ivan's on the move," Rick announced from the doorway into Zzyk's office.
"Walking or flying?" Zzyk responded without looking up from his paperwork.
"Walking."
"Do we know who's guiding him?"
"No. We're not hearing any voices now. We should assume he has one or more aboriginal guides."
"Would this silence be normal?"
"It could be. We know from the female voice that they didn't want to help him. The guides might not even be walking anywhere near him. It's difficult to hear things over Ivan's laboured breathing."
"Mobilize the Special Operations Force. Insert them into the area tonight after dark. Make sure that nobody sees them or hears them."
Zzyk didn't need to worry about his SpOp force being discovered. The person on the Wilizy who was assigned to watch DPS garrisons was busy planning an operation. He had taken his surveillance pictures that morning and wasn't scheduled to take follow-up pictures for another week. The impending battle would be over by then.
# # # # # # # #
From Yollie's journals: May 5.
Day 2 was a repeat of the previous day except now we knew where we were going to take Clumsy and what was going to happen afterwards. I called it Operation Woodchuck and the name stuck. It seemed appropriate for what Wolf had in mind.
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br /> The hiking was tougher on the second day. A nasty mountain sat smack dab between where Clumsy was and where we wanted him to be. That meant he had to take the long way around. For some sections, he would have to crawl on hands and knees up a steep incline. Fortunately, it was deeply wooded so a slip wouldn't mean anything more than some skinned knees.
Assuming the guide's duties was Toe-Jam, my 9-year old brother, boringly called Theo by Mother. I have this agreement with Theo. I can call him Toe-Jam publicly, but I can't tell anyone why I named him that or else he will spill some beans that wouldn't do my reputation any good. So young, and already so sneaky. Like Mush, he set up Clumsy's camp and disappeared into the darkness without indicating that he even spoke English, or whatever variation of it that he actually uses. I don't always understand what Theo is saying. He and his older brother, Lucas, often speak in code that only they understand. My nickname for Lucas is Lukety-Split because everything this kid does is at high speed. First to finish supper; first to be in line for dessert; first to try to get two desserts. Reese, my other brother, has the opposite nature. Slow to react; slow to act. But, you don't want to get on his wrong side. I call him Grease-Spot because that's what he'll be like if you cross him. You won't be able to get him off of you.
It didn't take me long to deliver Toe-Jam to the Wilizy since it was hovering unseen in the sky above Clumsy's camp. Doc had been observing Clumsy through the Wilizy's telescope all day long, especially after Toe-Jam had used hand signals to tell Clumsy that he stunk and should take a little bath in a creek. Ice cream was trotted out for the second night in a row. Everyone in my family loves ice cream. I didn't hug my brother this time. I had things in my pockets that I wanted to keep.
# # # # # # # #
The Narrator: May 5.
"Ivan has settled in for the night," Rick announced.
"Map," Zzyk ordered. A few minutes later, both were looking intently at a large-scale map on a wall in the operations room.
"Starting location on May 3rd here," Rick said and inserted a pushpin. "May 4th camp site here," and another push pin followed. "You can see from the map that they were avoiding a mountain today and couldn't take a direct route, but they ended up eventually right here." The third pin followed.
"Almost a direct line if you ignore the detour," Zzyk observed. "This small lake is the logical destination. It straddles the Aboriginal Nation-Alberta border."
"Ivan is an hour's hike away from that lake. There's a clearing on the other side that would serve as a good campsite. Everything else in the area is heavily treed."
"He'll leave camp at dawn?"
"That's been the pattern."
"Can he swim?"
Rick shrugged. "Whoever's guiding him will have thought of crossing the lake. Will you attack immediately after they arrive tomorrow or wait for night?" Rick saw Zzyk's eyes glaze over, so he sat down and waited. This will take 15 minutes, he thought. You should attack immediately before the Wilizy can disappear.
Zzyk straightened 20 minutes later. "Eighty-six percent probability of success if we attack as soon as Ivan settles into their camp. Twenty percent probability if we delay and they use that time to move away from the lake. The proximity of this camp to Edmonton suggests that Izzy came here after escaping from the compound. Zurt has had ample time to join her. Sixty percent probability of catching both of them tomorrow. Alert SpOp that they need to be ready to move at dawn. Send the attack signal to them 15-minutes after Ivan arrives in their camp tomorrow."
"Contingencies?"
"Not needed. Ivan is going to cross that lake. We're going to be in the Wilizy's camp before they realize we're in the area."
Back to the Table of Contents
Chapter 4
From Yollie's journals: May 6.
Today called for the smartest brother I had. Normally that would be Wolf, but he was establishing firing lines and setting up defensive positions and couldn't be spared. A worthy replacement was 13-year old Jack who I had christened Abernathy. Mother had named him Jack after one of her cousins, but that name had lasted only until the would-be Jack found out that he could name himself anything he wanted to. Mother had resorted to posting a little sign on the fridge that read Jack's name is ____ today, but she soon became tired of changing the note every other day. Everyone just called him Nat. He was supposed to take a permanent name when he became an adult and we were all curious what it was going to be. Currently he was trying out Claw but that probably wouldn't last. Nat is as much as Claw person as I am a Shrinking Violet person. I had chosen Abernathy for him because it sounded different, but not overly insulting. I hadn't been able to find enough dirt on that brother to warrant one of my usual nicknames. I told you he was smart.
Nat was expected to speak in his role and he had to do it with conviction. As well as with the help of Granny's flashcards. We wanted the DPS to attack us in broad daylight, so Wolf had planned for today's hike to last only an hour. During that hour, Nat walked backwards in front of Clumsy displaying Granny's flashcards that told him what was going to happen at the gravel bank overlooking the lake and then at the lake itself.
For this final day of Operation Woodchuck, we had split into two groups. On the A.N. side of the lake, we had Nat, Clumsy and Doc. The Wilizy was also on this side of the lake. Granny has had some medical training so she was in the Wilizy ready to serve as a nurse if Doc needed her. Mother was in charge of the Wilizy and was supervising Mush-for-Brains, Toe-Jam, and Winnie who were operating the ship's telescopes. I was on guard duty in my sling and would stay in the A.N. until Nat and Clumsy had safely left the area.
On the Alberta side of the lake, Dad, Izzy, and Will were in the air and watching their respective horizons in case the DPS had anticipated our destination and sent forces earlier than expected. Wolf was now in charge of the entire group from his high invisible hover over the center of the lake.
Nat delivered Clumsy to his deathbed right on the dot. I knew he would. That kid has a clock in his brain.
# # # # # # # #
"This is about as far as I can go," Nat said to Clumsy from the top of the steep bank overlooking the lake.
"What do I do now?"
"Can you swim?"
"Not much."
"There's a log down on the beach. Roll it into the water, hang onto it, and kick your way to the other side. Aim for the very tall tree just on the edge of the water. See it?"
Clumsy followed the line of Nat's finger. "Yes."
"I'll give you final directions on the beach."
"I have to climb down here?"
"It's steep and slippery but it's the only trail down."
Clumsy took off his shirt and wrapped it around his head and face. He sat down at the top of the path to the lake his guide had selected for him. It was indeed steep, contained a slight S-curve, and had a gravel and sand surface. Clumsy lay down on his back, nodded that he was ready, and Nat pushed on his head to accelerate him down the gouge in the bank as though he were a human toboggan. (The toboggan is one of Granny's teases. Supposedly, they were sleds that the ancients used to slide down snow-covered hills. She had gushed about them so often that I almost believed that they existed. But snow? In Calgary? Really?)
Clumsy's back would be pretty much shredded by the time he reached the bottom but at least he hadn't flipped over onto his front. The shirt around his head was to protect his face if that had happened. Clumsy had been encouraged to make any noises that he felt like making, so it was a noisy descent. When it was finished, Clumsy lay at the bottom of the trail, his body from his waist down in the water, and his bloody back lying on the narrow sand shelf below the cliff. Doc was in the water waiting for him, his medical bag in one hand, and a heavy thick pad in the other. He'd kneel on the pad to avoid leaving prints in the sand. Doc unwrapped the shirt from Clumsy's face and rolled him onto his front.
"Mister! Mister! Are you OK?" This from Nat at the top of the cliff who didn't have to act to sound concerned.
; Doc was searching Clumsy's lower back for a small pale scar that he had seen in the telescope the day before. Alcohol swabs cleared away the sand, a scalpel cut into the flesh, and Doc swabbed out the incision as best as he could. Clumsy groaned even louder.
"Mister. Mister! Can you get up?"
Doc attacked a faint white scar by Clumsy's hairline with similar sound effects. Again Doc swabbed the area as best he could, but hesitated. Will, I need you overhead, he thought.
Seconds later, Will was there – invisibly of course – and their conversation was all mind-to-mind.
Will, as far as I can tell, this is the wireless receiver and microphone that captures everything that this guy says or hears. Take a look.
Doc swabbed the incision near the hairline and opened the wound even further, which brought forth more sound effects.
Looks like it, thought Will who was using a magnifying filament from inside his sling.
This thing in his back has to be the explosive but I don't see a detonator. Perhaps it doesn't need one. I can't find any wires at all in what remains of his back.
"Hang on mister," Nat screeched. "I'm coming down. Don't move!"
I'll scan his body for foreign bodies. While Will was doing this, Nat had reached the small beach and was unpacking a second set of flashcards.
Will summarized. These are the only two foreign devices in his body that my filaments can find. The top device is the wireless receiver and microphone. If the DPS wants to explode the bomb in his lower back, they have to send a signal to the wireless receiver, which in turn will send a signal to the bomb and it will then explode. If the wireless receiver is prevented from sending the "explode now" signal, he should be safe. However if the bomb is moved away from the receiver, one of the devices may be programmed to act automatically. This means you can't remove the bomb without possibly setting it off. You should actually sew him up so that it can't be accidentally dislodged. Proceed as planned with the receiver. When it's dead, the bomb will be too.