Trace and Bullet had begun working on the case when they were together in Naval Intelligence out of Naval Base San Diego since 2004. The first chatter came across from overseas flights and into LAX.
“We think someone is planning another attack”, agent Samuelsson said interrupting Trace’s flashbacks. aHere, look at this file and read transcript 7-7-19.
We’ve located the next patient of the doctor. We will know shortly if the patient is sicker than the previous ones. We will contact you later about the cost of its care.
“It’s the same medical references that led Bullet and I to the first case bombs”, Trace replied. The submarine lunged on an upward track. We were going topside. The sharp bells signaled our arrival. Trace released his grip on the railings, he never did get used to the surfacing of subs, and then Samuelson blurted out “You interested Detective? If you are, you up to it? We know you’ve been away for a couple of years. Still burning to find your buddy’s killer?” Samuelson knew he was hitting the right buttons. Trace looked right in his eyes with a burning glare. Trace responded “Yeah, this thing needs to end here and now.”
*******
Chapter 7 Back to Work
“Morning detective” said a voice. “Morning” replied Trace; to whoever just walked by him. Trace was on his way to pick up a few things and then check out for what could be his last assignment. Just as he was putting his keys on the desk a tap on the shoulder grabbed his attention. It was Mac. “Nick, Cap wants to see you in his office, he’s up in smoke over something, you being back and all.”
Captain Rodgers was this big, loud type of a person you could ever meet. But he always looked you in the eye and shot straight. He always wanted everything in line and in line yesterday.
“Hey Cap”, Trace slid under the captain’s voice as he was kicking out a uniform. “What the hell have you got me into Nickels? I’ve got ten calls this morning from all kinds of departments wanting to know when I was releasing you to some outfit called MIGITNO. I don’t even know what that means, some CIA black op thing you got yourself involved in?”
“FBI cap, FBI, I was in the FBI not CIA”, Replied Trace with a clenched jaw. Cap responded “You know I can’t just let you walk out without some kind of medical clearance. You almost killed the last guy that pointed a gun at someone. That’s what I told this jerk fellow Cornwallis, Cornwall, corn something. You get your ass up to Dr. Jackson and get me a release before I let you off my watch. Got It?” “Got it”, Trace said.
Dr. Jackson was the farthest thing from his mind. Just last week he was cussing her under his breath, and then 24 hours ago from some cruise ship he was pulled into the current of life he wanted to forget. He was about to blow a gasket to get back to the most tension filled assignment he could think of. Trace knocks three times on the door.
“Come in Detective”, said the calm curt voice. “I’ve been expecting you. You certainly have things stirred up today. The captain has been yelling for me to finish my file and get rid of you. Did they really pick you off that cruise ship in a helicopter?” “Yes Mam” said Trace. He could be very cordial when the time and place seemed appropriate and Dr. Jackson was as good as a doc could get.
“Yes Mam? What’s that all about? The last time we spoke I was some power hungry female when I ordered you to take a couple of weeks of R &R”, answered Dr. Jackson.
Dr. Jackson had the most gorgeous brown eyes and a curl around her lips and a stare that said she could take you down in a heartbeat. She wasn’t a cop’s doc for nothing. If she did though you would probably just lie there and let her do what she pleased. But if you said something like that to her she would write you off as a hard up cop and send you downtown for six weeks of counseling, so no one ever crossed that line.
Trace countered “Yes Mam, I did say that the last time, but I should have been more respectful.” Dr. Jackson stood up from behind her desk “So Am I deserving of your respect or not detective Nickels? Am I this power hungry bitch or not after all?” Trace softly replied, “I didn’t say that, I just said I should have been more respectful.” Trace looked into those eyes and thought for a minute he could really tell her how he felt. Tell her how he appreciated the things she did for him. She literally pulled him from the edge a couple of years ago and kept him sane during his time as a detective in San Diego. He was a wreck when he arrived and she put him back together somewhat. That is until the liquor store thing.
Dr Jackson pushed a file in front of Trace and pointed to where he needed to sign. “Get out of here detective and go do some real police work for a change instead of coming and crying to me every time things don’t go your way! Don’t make me tear this release up the captain said I had to sign. I don’t know who you know, but I put a little notation that I needed to recheck you in 3 months. How’s that for power hungry?” “Thanks Doc”, said Trace with the tiniest of grins. “I’ll check back when I’m through and maybe we can swap stories again.” Trace gave her one more glance as he moved through the door. “Good Luck Agent Nickels,” she said smoothly.
Trace noticed a hush around the office. “Here Cap. This what you need?” Trace handed the medical release to the captain and caught the figure of some one in the corner of his office. Trace said “Excuse me cap, didn’t mean to interrupt.
“Damn polite fellow, isn’t he Captain” said the figure. Trace turned around to the voice he knew. He saw the slender, dirty blond hair, blue eyed woman. She had the face that would cut through to your heart.
“Jill”, Trace said. “Well “said the woman,” you do remember old pals, even if you don’t return messages.” Jill Corningwell was Trace and Bullet’s trainer at the academy. She still looked like she could pull you out of car head first and then jab those high hills into your neck without a blink of an eye.
“Cap, this is Jill Corningwell”, Said Trace. “Yes, we’ve met”, said the captain. “Now, you’re off my back and on someone else’s. Hope you can keep a collar on this one agent Cornwall.” Jill answered, “That’s Corningwell, Captain.” “Whatever,’ replied the captain as he grabbed the duty roster and began yelling at the desk sergeant.
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Chapter 8 Old Acquaintances
Jill Corningwell was the top FBI tech analyst when Bullet and Trace began. She trained them both in the wizardry that was called techno-warfare. She was a brilliant agent, one of the most thorough and insightful persons they knew. It was also that she was a head turner still at 36. Her looks kept her out of field work. She could stop a parade with her looks when she went out on assignment. She didn’t care or use her looks at all; she was a patriot, right down to the last megabyte.
As Jill and Trace walked back towards his desk she softly said. “Where can we go to get you up to speed on where we are?” Trace guided her to the interview room around the corner from his desk. The door closed behind them and Jill pulled out a large folder and her laptop. She slid the folder towards Trace, clicked on her computer, and said, “read through this and I’ll get hooked up with the latest intel.” The folder was marked FOR EYES ONLY. There again was the briefcase bomb and the notation. The Doctor is in. “There we go” exclaimed Jill as she fired up the computer. It was all rushing back to Trace, the bond that was there between Jill, Bullet, and Trace. They had pursued the doctor and his plan to inflict pain on the evil empire the US of A.
Trace looked up as Jill started to talk. He said “is this the first we’ve heard of the doctor since the explosion,” his voice dropping off. Jill quickly picked up the conversation, “Yea, not a word since the last time we got so close to him.’ It had been 2 years since the domestic intel community had put so much effort into trying to stop this attack. Trace gathered his thoughts to reply, “How many agents still are working on this?” “About a dozen “was Jill’s reply. “Mostly communication techs and a couple of field agents and myself. Here’s what we know at the moment. We picked up the track of a burner phone in Brussels, Belgium that crypted the doctor was in. It led us
to Chicago, where the second one was found, and then to an account, a money supply trail. We’ve kept that silent. That led to a mix of servers and networks until we could track it multiple times to Miami. There we caught a break and picked up an email. There’s the email on the back page.
The doctor is in. The first patients we looked at were not very ill, but we will get a prescription anyway. The next patients are expected to be of a more serious nature. We will send package airmail when the prescription is ready.
Trace glanced up at Jill, “Looks like it’s all starting again.”
“Big time” replied Jill. “Here’s what our buddies at Homeland spotted on there sat. You know the one classified as telecommunications. Here’s a video of what it captured.”
Trace looked on as Jill narrated. “The sat shows two, what we think are Raptor AG-4’s. They were skirting up the coast of Florida. The Coast Guard scrambled there usual drug units and then this happened. When they went to check them out, they disappeared from the planes. The sat image also goes blank at the same time. Either they have a base somewhere, flew out quickly to sea, or went stealth.”
Trace rubbed his head and his eyes got big. “Stealth” he said. “That’s a big step for the doctor. Do you think they have that capability?” Maybe that’s what they have been doing for two years, upgrading!” Jill responded “that’s where you come in. That’s your first assignment, Find out if it’s possible for them to have this” Trace immediately conjured up a face. I know who can help get this party started, but I will need to go see a horse.
*******
Chapter 9 Old Friend
Del Mar Horse Club. Trace felt good walking in the gate and smelling the sea air. Nothing like surf and turf. It smelled just like it did when he was a kid and Trace and his dad would come and spend the weekends trying to make a big score. Trace walked up to the outdoor cabana and gazed intently at the Puerto Rican beauty tending the bar. Trace could picture a beach, with nothing on but a tan and just sipping away on something smooth and enjoying her company as much as she enjoyed being herself.
“Need a drink stranger? How bought some Jack Daniels? You looked a little dazed!” quizzed the bartender. “Just thinking about you” said Trace. “Well Nick, It’s been along time since you thought about me. I’ve missed that.” She said as she leaned over the bar towards Trace. “Me too” came his reply.
Isabella was a native Puerto Rican Bombshell. Trace thought she had been a Miss USA contestant when he first met her. They met when he was in Navy Intel and had something; and then the call from the FBI changed it all. A decision he wondered if he regretted. He had been out of touch the last 6 to nine months as his life got darker and darker.
As he looked into those hot brown eyes he could only sigh. He said “run away with me and let’s leave all this. “She smiled back and said “your call” He paused. “One quick job I need to take care of and then I’m all yours,” Trace said. “Job? When did that start?” said Isabella. “I thought you were doing some slum work down at the local PD?”
“Was, until they ask me to save the world,” Trace said sarcastically. “Sure,” said Isabella. “Well you’re the one to do it.” Her eyes squinted and her lips curled in a wry smile. “You just needed an excuse to see me” she cooed. “I don’t need an excuse to see one of the most beautiful girl’s on the planet,” Trace said shyly. “One of!!” Isabella’s voice got intense. “Someone else out there I don’t know about big shot?” Trace chuckled, “You’re the one and only love. You know that, by the way where’s RC?”
“He’s down at the finish line where he lives,” she said. “OK, gotta go save the world,” he grinned. As he walked away Trace looks back and taps his chest and winks. Isabella smiles and touched her chest then her lips with her slender fingers and blows a kiss to him. His thoughts raced to a beach and then to helicopters.
“RC!” Trace yelled.
“Trace man!” replied this tall figure hanging over the railing. RC rose up and grabbed Trace by the shoulders and gave him a big bear hug that shook his whole body. RC was all solAdier. He had fought in Desert Storm flying helicopters into Bagdad and back to Kuwait and then some black op work for Navy Intel. That’s when they met.
“You here to bet the ponies with me and soaked up some sweet Isabella? She’s not gonna be here forever you know. God it’s good to see ya!” RC exclaims genuinely. RC looks up at the sky boxes and puts up a 1 then a 5.
“You love it here don’t you RC?” asked Trace. RC responded “Yeah, every minute. This is what we fight and die for.”
There off!, the announcer blares on the speaker. RC yells “come on number 5.” He had a hundred on number 5. This was a sprint and they were about to come down the stretch. “Come on boy, take ‘em right here,” RC said encouragingly. Trace checked the board and saw number 5 was three to one odds, good money to make on this one. “Come on 5, Come on 5” repeated RC.
The announcer blares. Number 8, He’s Around The Corner, leading by a two lengths. Number 5, Sweet Onion, sitting off his shoulder. They are battling down the stretch. It’s He’s Around The Corner by a length. Sweet Onion gaining ground. It’s a duel to the wire. Sweet Onion, He’s Around The Corner, at the wire…too close to call. Hold all tickets. RC spun around to Trace. “Wadja see 5 or 8 huh, 5 or 8,” asked RC. Trace replied, “Looked like 5 got the head bob, but it was hard to see with all you degenerates jumping all around.” “Degenerates!” exclaimed RC. “I can’t make this kind of money selling Mercedes to the Arabs in Kuwait. Remember hot shot, you were right here too a few years back.” “Yeah, Yeah, good times if I remember right” Trace mumbles grudgingly.
Race number 2 is official. 5 Sweet Onion by a nose, 8 He’s Around The Corner, second, and Mr. Sunshine third. Fourth was Logan’s Man rounding out the superfecta was the announcers call. RC chimed in, “Money in the Bank, Money in the bank. “Trace smiled at RC having such a good time. RC looked at Trace and said, “Whatcha here for, not pleasure it seems.” Trace replied, “no, I’m looking for a chopper.” RC’s eyes got big and said “Rent or Buy.” “Neither” said Trace, “one that can disappear. Know of any?”
RC looked around to see if anyone was interested in their conversation. “You mean vanish, disappear, off the radar,” asked RC. “Yeah something along those lines,” replied Trace. “You gotta be on the cutting edge to be a player in that,” replied RC. “You need to go see my buddy Cal. He has some toys you might like to play with. He’s into all that intel stuff you like,” RC said with a wry grin. “He’s out on Hwy 56 about 6-7 miles.”
Trace looked around to get one last look at what a day of pleasure would be like. RC jumped in. “I got a tip on a good one in the next race, buddy. Ghostagain; son of Ghostzapper is ready to take down a grade 2 at 5-1. You want in?” asked RC. “Nah, I’d be here all day if I did. Gotta run this down” Trace said. Trace busted knuckles with RC and headed for the exit. RC looked up and held up two fingers then three. It was still a nice day at the track just being there. He saw the path the led towards Isabella. Trace turned the other way, can’t get distracted he thought. If he takes that path again it has to be for good. And there off blared the speakers. Trace could here RC yelling along with the crowd. This is what we fight for.
*******
Chapter 10 Missing Aircraft.
As Trace walked up to the metal building he read the sign that said Metro Tech Airways. As he banged on the door it slowly opened. Trace thought, strange for a high tech place. “Cal,” Trace hollered. “Cal, you here” Trace said again.
“What you need Cal for?” came a reply from behind a workbench covered in dust and grease. “Just an answer to a couple of questions or two, Trace said. “You can get answers from an encyclopedia.” replied the voice. Trace spoke curtly, “I need answers only a disciplined fellow would have” Replied Trace.
Trace had noticed the Army tat on the greasy man and thought he would bring in a military phrase. Trace continued, “RC from down at the tra
ck said I could see some stuff if I talked to Cal.” The voice softened some, “RC huh? You some kind of military?” “Yeah I’m a friend of his from Desert Storm and I need some info,” Trace responded. The voice approached Trace and looked him in the eyes. “What type of info you needin’? Maybe ol’ Cal can help” the voice said with pride in his voice.
“I’m Agent Terrance Nickels, FBI and I need some info on a helicopter that can disappear. I noticed you have a tat of airborne 723, with an ODA snake symbol. That’s a pretty heavy outfit.” Trace said. “Your pretty clever for a spook,” said Cal. Trace jumped in,” Not a spook “said Trace, “FBI, we don’t spook.” “Sorry man, sometimes I don’t know who comes sniffin’ around in here. RC sent ya huh? You must be top notch then. How is he? Still at the track?” asked Cal. “Everyday I guess,” said Trace, “Now about some info.”
Cal reached out his hand after rubbing off all the grease. “Cal Terry, Nice to meet you agent Nickels”, said Cal. “They call me Trace” he replied. “RC said you could point me in the right direction on some new technology I’m looking into; Helos going invisible to radar.” Trace confided. Cal perked up, “Stealth huh, everyone is trying to upgrade to that, it’s some pretty hot stuff. Good people and bad people are working on this stuff now,” Cal said.
Trace questioned, “Is it possible for a helicopter to disappear now days?” Cal said, “Yeah everybody has it now, Whisper it’s called. The US used it in 2011 when they killed Bin Laden and now everyone from North Korea to corporate has it. Let’s walk out back and I’ll show you some stuff.”
Cal and Trace walked outside to a work shed and went inside. There was a steel door to open, then a stairwell down. Cal and Trace went down a couple of flights, and then turned into a large shiny work space. At the end was a shiny helicopter. Trace looked around and saw two armed guards walking a catwalk. “Cal?” said Trace, “You’ve been holding back.” Cal coolly said, “Yeah this is my real workshop.” They continued to walk and went past a bank of computers with two technicians and as he walked by he saw his picture and a file opened and stopped suddenly. Cal exclaimed, “Sorry, We needed to check you out before we let you down here. I do a lot of DOD stuff so they let me access a file or two when needed.”