Book Two
Laser Liar
Laser Liar
Posted 9/1/2009
Prologue
Summer 2006
Training Camp
Iran
“Farouk, you have done well these
past two years, you have a good command of the American English.
Your combat techniques and American culture training has been
outstanding. You are more
than ready to carry out Allah’s will.
You will lead the most important mission ever attempted by our
people in the United States.
You will have your own cell and will be given your contact and further
instruction once you arrive in country.
For security reasons we can not give it to you until you have
safely completed your infiltration,” said Abu Anas al-Zarquawi.
“When will I leave for this honored
mission?” asked Farouk Allawi, the 28-year-old Iranian.
He was an attractive dark skinned, male, five-foot nine-inches,
with black hair and mustache.
The physical training had hardened his body and prepared him for
any opponent.
“You will leave tomorrow for Brazil,
with your cell members. When
you reach Brazil you will call this number and tell them you wish to buy
an original Shahir Persian rug.
You will follow his instructions.
Share this number with those traveling with you.
They will need this in the event something should happen to you.
Now go and share this information with those in your cell.
Tell them the vehicle will take you from here at first light.”
Farouk exited the tent, stood and
watched as the men and women adorned in their black clothing ran by.
He thought back to his first day’s here- English classes,
hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, chemicals and explosives
training. Oh yes, those
unbelievable American custom classes.
It was no wonder that the Jihad was needed to cleanse the world.
He gave thanks to Allah that those days were behind him now.
He went directly to his eight-man tent and found Ayah Dagwood.
Ayad was a 27 year old black haired
with a stubble beard Syrian who stood five-foot nine-inches tall.
He had studied hard and worked hard side-by-side with Farouk,
earning his respect and becoming his second in command.
Together, they went in search of Silvi Awarki.
Silvi had just finished her exit
briefing and was returning to her tent.
The desert breeze had kick up some sand and Ayad shielding his
eyes with his hand was barely able to recognize her due to the apparel
she was wearing and the blowing sand.
He grabbed Farouk and pointed to her.
Farouk hurried across the sand-covered roadway between the rows
of tents and caught up with her.
He told her to follow him and they walked between tents and out
of the blowing sand.
Silvi was a very attractive 24 year
old olive skinned Iranian, with black silky hair and a well-developed
body. She stood an inch
shorter than the two men but the abundance of hair made her look and
inch taller. Farouk was the
only man that she had ever cared about or even respected.
Her black piercing eyes focused on Farouk as he spoke.
“We leave at first light.
Finish your packing tonight and get some rest.
I am not sure how much rest we will have on this journey.”
“Where are we going?” she asked in a
soft low voice that reminded Farouk how he felt about her.
“We go to Brazil tomorrow.”
“Then where?”
“I do not know.
We will be given instructions when we get there.
I will share the contact number with you and Ayad tomorrow
morning. Our time of
training is over we are now true warriors of Allah.”
The two men returned to their tent and began packing.
They could not pack anything that could possibly connect them
with this training camp.
“Abu has just informed me that none
of our people has ever attempted a mission as important as our mission,”
said Farouk.
“We will be the honored ones.
What is our mission?” asked Ayad.
“It is so important and secret that
we will not be told until it is time to accomplish it.”
Ayad plopped down on his cot, looked
up at Farouk and asked, “What mission in America could be that
Important?”
*
*
*
The next morning at daybreak the van
driver opened the doors and three newly trained terrorists loaded
their belongings. Ayad sat
in the front passenger’s seat and Farouk and Silvi sat in the back.
They looked forward to the dusty, hot ride from the Dasht-e-Kavir
to Tehran. They were finally
leaving the salt desert, that in it’s self is a blessing they thought.
Anticipation for them to see
Tehran was exciting. They
haven’t seen a village much less a city in two years.
Disappointment came as soon as they entered the city.
The volume of traffic, the jams and backups it created was
extremely frustrating. The
pollution was evident everywhere they looked.
It was a city of only 1500 kilometers square but squeezed into
that was 12 million people.
The congestion saddened them. The van dropped them off at the Imam
Khomeini Airport. The three
stood and stared. The airport was a startling contrast to the
rest of the city.
It was constructed primarily of
glass and steel and very modern in its architecture.
Built about five years earlier at the cost of one billion
dollars. Beyond a
doubt the grandest thing any of them had ever seen.
They made their way to the Iran Airlines ticket counter.
Traveling as tourists, the three purchased tickets to Rio de Janeiro.
None of them had ever flown on an
airliner before. The
cleanliness and comfort was surprising for them.
Service they received from the attendants and the meals were
totally unexpected. Life
beyond their villages and the training camp was indeed decadent.
However, they did not complain and secretly enjoyed every minute
of it.
The flight touched down at Antonio
Carlos Jobim International Airport.
They had never seen such mountains, and blue water.
They didn’t know where they were going but so far it just kept
getting better and better.
They found a phone in the airport and Farouk made his call.
“I would like to purchase a Shahir
Persian rug,” said Farouk.
“Just a moment, I will get the man
that handles that,” responded the male at the other end of the line.
“This is Abu, how may I help you?”
“I would like to purchase a Shahir
Persian rug. I am told that
you have such a rug.”
“We have many; you must come and see
for yourself. Do you have
transportation?”
“I am afraid that we do not have
transportation to come to you,” answered Farouk.
“In that case I will provide for you transportation, I like to take care of my customers. Where are you located?"
“We are at the airport.”
“Which airport might that be; we
have three?”
“The airport called Antonio Carlos
Jobim, outside the arrival area of Iran Air.”
“Look for an early model station
wagon with a red card in the passenger’s side window.
How many are there of you?
That vehicle should be sufficient for you and your baggage.”
“Sir, we are two men and one woman
and we travel with very little baggage.”
“Stay in front of the baggage
removal area on the curb- it will be about twenty minutes.”
The voice hung up without further conversation.
Ayad and Farouk watched tourist in
their excitement and dress.
They had never seen women dress like this except for a few pictures in
the American Culture Class they had in the training camp.
“You two are pigs,” Silvia said as
she watched them looking wide-eyed at the scantly clad females.
“Allah made women for men to enjoy,
we are only following Allah’s will,” returned Ayad with a grin.
“You talk to me like that again, you
son of a dog and I guarantee that you will meet Allah personally and
then you can discuss it with him,” Silvi replied with a nasty stare.
The station wagon approached and
Ayad was the first to see the red card in the window.
He stepped off the curb and held out his hand.
The driver obviously of Arabian
descent stopped the vehicle, stepped out of the car and said, “May I
help you?”
“Yes we want to buy an original
Shahir Persian rug and we are waiting for transportation,” answered
Farouk.
“You will be very pleased with the
variety of rugs he has in stock,” said the driver as he helped them with
their bags. “It is but a twenty minute ride, please get in and make
yourselves comfortable.” He
drove them from the airport and asked, “I trust your flight was a
pleasant one?”
Farouk and Silvi were not much on
small talk and settled silently in the back seat.
Ayad, who was sitting with the driver, answered, “It was a great
experience, one I will never forget.”
He sat in awe at the sights and the people as he rode.
His head was continually turning from side to side taking in all
the sights.
The vehicle threaded their way south through the busy streets until they turned
right on Resende and pulled into an alleyway just before Fatima.
They drove into a small parking area behind what appeared to be a
strip mall. The driver told
them to leave their luggage in the car and enter the building. A
wood appearing door was a surprise to them when they
discovered it was made of solid steel.
They entered a hallway wide enough for two people to walk side by
side. There were rolls of
carpet about twelve feet long on racks from the floor to the ceiling on
each side of the hallway.
The room opened to a large show room with all types of carpeting.
On their right as they entered was a desk, filing cabinets and a
general office set up. On
the left was a round table and chairs with catalogs and forms on the
table. The room was filled
with aisles upon aisles of rugs on racks that extended to the ceiling.
A man, who appeared to be in his
sixties, approached them. He
looked them over with a curious eye.
Damai always wondered about people who were so willing to die for
Allah. Sadly he smiled and
extended his hand.
“Ah you are my friends who are
looking for the special Persian rug.”
I am Damai and you have already met Omar.
I have just what you need.” He nodded to the driver who walked to
the front door and locked it.
The shop owner
walked over to a large bookcase and pushed the remote in his
pocket. The bookcase swung
open making a large doorway into a very dark room. “Quickly my friends step inside.”
Once inside he closed the bookcase with the driver on the outside
for security. While the door
was closing the elder gentleman turned on the fluorescent lights.
The room appeared medically clean.
There were two computers and three printers on one desk and a
credenza on their right as they entered.
Across the room on their left was a tripod holding a Sony
Cyber-shot DSC-W5 digital.
On the wall in front of it was a solid light blue tapestry.
What appeared to be a cutting table with several chairs was
placed by the opposite wall from the door.
A filing cabinet stood by one end of the long table.
A clothing rack with men and women’s clothing was on the other
end.
“Welcome to my laboratory friends.
It is here that we make you citizens of Mexico.”
“I thought our mission is in the
United States,” queried Farouk.
“You are correct.
That is your final destination, but first we must get you into
the United States. It is not
easy for someone with a Muslim sounding name to enter the states any
longer. We can thank our
al-Qaida friends for that.
This transformation will take two days.
We will take your pictures along with your fingerprints and you
will have all the credentials you will need.
There will be two ways to enter the United States, one is to be
smuggled across the border into Arizona and the other is to attempt to
enter through the border checkpoint.
The last one is riskier than the
first due to the more in-depth checking they do now.
When you arrive at your Mexican destination, Rebecca will decide
then how you proceed. Now we
will begin work. You will
find South American made clothing on the rack.
Find something that fits you and we will get the photographs out
of the way.”
“They check the type of clothing?”
asked Ayad.
“Of course, what Mexican will be
wearing clothing made in Iran?
You will go with the driver and purchase sufficient clothing to
get you in to the states.
Once there you will buy all American clothing.”
“You must be Silvi; I see you have
found clothing to fit you.
You will be first then, please stand in front of the tapestry.”
Silvi looked over at Farouk then
walked over to the tapestry and faced the camera with a sullen look
“No, you must smile.
You must present yourself as a happy Mexican.
We do not want someone looking at your picture and thinking that
this woman is trouble.”
“I do not like smiling; it is a sign
of weakness. Only when I am
able to remove infidels from this earth will I smile.”
“You must look weak and innocent,
that is a weapon in itself.
Deceit is a great strategy; give your opponent a false sense of
security. They must have
taught you that. Now, fool
me into thinking that you are a naive Mexican girl.”
“As you wish,” said Silvi, trying
her best to give a happy smile.
After a few pictures of each one, they were taken shopping for three changes of clothing.
The trio was also treated to a room at the Petropolis.
The suite was better than $800.00 a night for them.
Ayad kept asking why they were given such luxury; the other two
kept telling him that it was a send off to a place from which they may
never return.
*
*
*
They spent the next few days
rehearsing their cover stories and preparing documents.
That night they were on a Delta Airlines plane bound for Mexico
City. From there they took a
bus to Nogales. It was
there they were to meet their next contact.
This was the contact that would get them into the United States.
They arrived and found the Super 8
Motel on Mariposa Road.
Farouk and Silvi checked into their room and Ayad into his.
Farouk called his contact and was told to meet the following
morning at the restaurant La Roca.
The room was a far cry from the room they occupied the previous
nights. However, Farouk and
Silvi couldn’t have enjoyed it more.
*
*
*
The next morning they left the hotel
an hour and a half before the meet.
The three were amazed at the shops and the traffic as well.
They transferred items from their luggage into backpacks that
they purchased and purchased flashlights, a compass, a first aid kit and
a few other miscellaneous items. It became obvious that there was going to be
considerable adjusting on their part.
They found the restaurant and sat in the rear of the dining area.
Two brown paper bags were placed on the table next to each other. They watched
with anticipation as the customers came and went.
Finally, a woman who appeared to be
in her fifties approached the table smiling.
She pulled out the empty chair from the table for four.
“Ah my friends, it is so good to see you again.
You will have to tell me all the news that has occurred since I
left. First of all how have
you been?”
Farouk was taken by surprise as the
woman sounded as though she was an American.
Secondly, her approach to the conversation caught him off guard.
He didn’t even remember her name; how was he supposed to keep up
the charade. He was trying
to think of what to say when she spoke again.
“Did Rebecca surprise you or what?
I bet you didn’t know I was back did you.
I had a great vacation in Rio- I stayed at the Petropolis.
You should go there sometime, the shopping is wonderful.
I spent hours shopping; I found this perfectly beautiful Persian
rug, if I could have gotten it on the plane I would have bought it in a
minute.”
There was no doubt that this was
their contact. “It is so
good that you are back. We
did miss you. Not a lot has happened around here, since you left,”
Farouk said.
“I had such a great time shopping.
I did pick up something and I am just dying to show you.
Do you want to come over to the old hacienda?
I have my car right outside.”
“Yes, we would love to go to your
house, wouldn’t we?” replied Silvi looking at the two men.
The two men quickly nodded in
agreement and just a few minutes later, the group was in the car and on
their way. “There was an
American in the restaurant, I’m sure he was a government agent, that is
why I pretended to be the one who just got back,” informed Rebecca.
“Since Mexico has become the number one entrance to the United
States for al-Qaida operatives, the border towns are crawling with
undercover agents. The
illegal migration has become so popular; the Mexican government
advertises the routes. There
are approximately a half a million Latinos entering every year.
The Mexican government even issues magazines
telling them what to bring and what to look out for.
We are talking about over 100,000 immigrants a year that are
captured and sent back only to try it again.
According to the United States Census, there are about 11 million
illegal immigrants living in the States.
Mexicans make up over half of those.
The more Mexicans that go to the states, the more money they send
back home to Mexico and the less their government has to pay out for
their welfare. It's a great
boost for the struggling Mexican economy.
It's no wonder the Mexican government encourages the migration
to the land of milk and honey.
The other Latin American countries are climbing on the bandwagon
as well. About 3 million are
from other countries in South America.”
“Where are we going now?” asked Ayad.
“We’re going to drive out to a
little air strip, load up in a twin engine Cessna and after a two hour
flight, you will meet your next contact.
Tonight Raul is going to get you across the border.
There is 6000 miles of American border and only about 11000
Border Patrolmen that is averages less than two men per every thousand
miles. However, Arizona has
one of the largest compliments of agents in the country.
The Tucson complex alone has about 2500 agents.
Raul knows the safest place to
get you through.
*
*
*
The plane landed on a sandy strip in
the vicinity of Sonoyta, Mexico.
There Rebecca, who said that she has been doing this for more
than twenty years, wished them luck and returned to the plane.
They watched as the plane lifted skyward.
Less than an two hours later, a 1949, green, Chevrolet with a thick
dust cloud following appeared to come out of nowhere.
It sped toward them and slid to a stop with the cloud totaling
obliterating the view of the vehicle and causing the three of them to
hurriedly back away.
As the dust cleared, the five foot
four inch, dark skinned, man with a black mustache and greasy hair,
looked at them from his driver’s window for minute.
He opened the door and stepped out.
Farouk couldn’t help but think that he was playing the roll, with
his cowboy boots, jeans with a huge belt buckle and western style shirt.
“So you wanna go north.
My name to you is Raul, I don wanna know you name.
Get in the car and I take you to you jumpin' off place.” Raul drove them to an adobe style house in a
desolate area. There, they
remained for the remainder of the day light hours.
When darkness arrived, Raul briefed them in what to expect and
where to find their next and final contact.
He also had them check their equipment and supplies to assure
they were prepared.
“We will cross the boarder close to
an American village called Lukeville.
We will travel through the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument
Park. There is no border
patrol in this area it is safe.
This is the place where you find the water tanks, which you will
be thankful for. We will
stay in the north part of the Park during the day and you will rest.
The trip through the Park is about twenty miles.
From there you will travel on a trail that is obvious, this trail
follows a compass point of about 355 degrees.
There is a small town about fifteen miles from the park.
This town is called Aho- it is there that your final contact will
meet you.
"This is very much desert and you
must conserve your water.
You follow the trail until you see a highway; this will be Highway 85.
Stop and watch at that intersection for an all white van that
will park with the rear of the van facing south or towards you.
You must move swiftly into the van.
There is very little border patrol in that area, but don’t take
any chances.”
“This van, it will take us to our
final destination? There
will be no more traveling?” queried Ayad.
“Yes, I will take you to the park’s
north edge and he will take you to your living quarters.
Beyond this I know nothing.
Gather your belongings and we go now.”
*
*
*
The trek through the park was
tiresome and uneventful.
They found the water tanks and filled their canteens for the next
night’s trip. The three
slept during the day in a place that many had slept before them.
That night Raul put them on the trail north wished them luck and
retreated back the way he came.
Ayad had purchased and been given the responsibility of the
compass. He led the way.
They did their fifteen-miles in just under six hours.
It was still dark when they saw the white van parked as Raul said
it would be. They ran for
the van opened the back doors and jumped in.
“Your name?” asked a voice from the
front.
“Farouk!”
“Is everyone here and in good
condition?”
“Yes we are fine,” He hadn’t
expected to hear an American voice.
“The van started up and drove north
on Highway 85 to Interstate 10.
There, the van turned east to their final destination.
They were dropped off at an apartment complex in the town of
Goodyear. They entered the
manager’s office at sunrise.
A smile crossed the manger’s face as he came through a door connecting
to an apartment. The black
haired, clean-shaven, five-foot eight-inch 150-pound Iranian greeted
them by hugging all three of them.
“You do not remember me?
I left the camp last year and have been here ever since.
I have made many preparations for you.
First you must get in to your apartment before too many see you.
You must be Ayad, you are already in your apartment just go
through that door I came out of, and you can stay with Rashid and me.
Farouk, I will take you to your apartment, which will be A-204.
In case you do not remember my name it is Ghaleb…Ghaleb al Sharaa.”
I am a member of Abdul Masab’s cell.
*
*
*
They had a good day’s rest.
That evening they were versed on the reason for being here.
Ghaleb had the opportunity to become acquainted with the cell
members. They rested the
next day and that evening were taken to what was to be their garage
repair shop. Ghaleb opened
the garage door and told Farouk that the two cars and stake body ton and
half truck were for his cell.
It was determined that would be all the transportation need to
accomplish the mission.
Farouk’s cell established a legitimate front with the garage for several
months while they studied their target, met with their inside contact
and adopted a working plan for a successful mission.
They also spent a few evenings with
their contact from the inside, learning the floor plan, security
personnel and their areas of responsibility.
They had to plan for the equipment necessary to remove the target
device and load it on their transportation.
Qassem al-Jazaeri a young 22 year
old Saudi entered the garage and asked for Farouk.
Ayad asked who wants him.
He told Ayad he would tell Farouk that information.
Ayad grabbed Qassem and pushed him against the wall.
Qassem hollered out, “Abdel al-Dikheel sent me to help him.
Bandar Al Otaibi knows me and he is here.
Ask him.
Laser Liar
2006
Avondale, Arizona
As the laser beam crossed the room
displaying a bright red dot on the gasoline driven device, Dr. Robert
Massey took the remote out of his lab coat. He looked at Dr. Philbert
Langford and with excited expectation announced, “This is it Phil, our
years of work will pay off with the push of this button.”
With that the man, with the Doctorate in Electrical Engineering,
specializing in Electromagnetic Radiation, activated the remote.
“Hummm-zit!” was the response from
the instrument on the table.
A simple electric lawn mower engine, fifty feet away, smoked coughed and
stopped running. The
reaction created by the instrument brought shouts of glee from both
scientists.
“Thank God, our years of work have
finally paid off,” said Dr. Langford, Project Chief. “We have done it.
We have created the greatest non-lethal weapon known to man.
This is going to be a definite blessing to man kind.”
He also had a Doctorate in Electrical Engineering.
However, his specialty was in Laser Technology.
“This is definitely going to make
history- you know that Bob.”
“Not only history, but this is going
to make a better future- a safer future even.”
“Just think, of the possibilities,
Law Enforcement for one, no more high speed chases endangering the
officer and innocent by-standers.
The officer aims the laser and pushes the button and the
electromagnetic pulse shuts the perpetrator’s car down.
It could be used from a helicopter in pursuit of the vehicle or
from the chase car,” espoused Dr. Massey.
Having worked for campus police
while putting himself through college, the six foot four inch, 250 pound
scientist with salt and pepper hair and horn rim glasses, thought first
of the police application.
“Bob, think about the application on
the battle field, troop movements, armored vehicles, motorized rocket
launchers and God knows what else stopped dead in their tracks.
We can totally shut down the enemy’s movements.
With a little boost, it’ll stop navel and air support as well.”
Dr. Langford entered the Army at age
18, and after finishing OCS, the officer candidate school at Ft. Benning,
GA, received his degrees by bootstrapping to college while in the army.
He retired, after thirty years, as a Colonel from his last assignment as
Weapons Research and Development Chief.
He was recruited a year later to head up the top secret “Research
of Advanced Weaponry” (RAW).
Now twelve years later, with his white hair, goatee and gold rim
glasses, he had accomplished his ultimate goal-a non-lethal weapon of
Herculean importance. He had
seen too many dying, amputated, or psychologically destroyed soldiers.
This could definitely be a humane weapon. He felt his years of
dedication were well worth it if it could possibly ease the pain of war.
The two doctors were the only
individuals in the RAW laboratory who were aware of their creation.
They had been extremely careful to keep it that way; it wasn’t
easy, everyone in the facility was curious about their project. There
were only three other people, period; who knew they were working on a
laser guided electromagnetic pulse.
The only personnel outside of the highly classified facility who
knew of work on the LGEP were the President of the United States, the
National Security Adviser and the Secretary of Homeland Security.
The combined Argon/Krypton (Ar/Kr)
ion laser running 50 amps at 400volts with a regulated power supply
produced a high quality multimode beam with output power of 100 watts.
This type of beam was normally found in laser entertainment
shows, such as the one on the face of Stone Mountain in Atlanta, GA.
However, they had been able to produce excited photons in a red
ray at 650 nm. Once they had
the power for distance, it was a matter of having an electromagnetic
wave pulse join the laser to pinpoint the target.
Their problem for years was how to combine the two wavelengths.
Dr. Massey had finally produced a
high voltage transducer that converts that voltage to a wavelength that
approached 120,000 eV or the beginning of the Gamma ray wave spectrum.
This was combined with the laser and their wavelengths were close
enough for them to travel together.
Once this high voltage pulse struck the target, it over powered
the device and immediately burned out the entire electrical system. It
didn’t matter whether it was a simple spark plug wire or a complex
computer the surge of the electromagnet pulse overloaded the circuit and
shut it down.
They now had their delivery system
with a giant limitation- power source.
The power source was not only huge and bulky but it also needed a
cooling element. For it to
be mobile at this point wasn’t practical.
Mobility was an important factor.
In its present state, it would require a two and half ton truck
to move it. Now that they
knew it would work, it was just a matter of working on the power source
and that should be much simpler.
In fact Dr. Massey had an idea that he was sure would work and
was anxious to try out.
Ralph Munroe with his doctorate in
Physics and specializing in Thermonuclear Research rang the bell to the
laser lab. Dr. Massey
hurriedly rolled the burned out mower engine into a storage cabinet.
Dr. Langford turned up the exhaust fan and answered the door.
“Ralph my boy, how are things going
on your side of the door?” asked Dr. Langford with his typical warm
smile. He made a point of
blocking Dr. Munroe from entering too far into their portion of the
classified lab. “Don’t tell
me it’s time for lunch already?”
“Not much has changed I’m still
working on that hand held heat-seeking radar project. In fact we just
about have it ready for field-testing. I needed a break and I thought
that I’d come and visit you gentlemen.
However, if you’re too busy, I’ll just go to lunch instead.”
“Hey Bob, you want to go to lunch?
I think I’d enjoy something to eat about now,” Dr. Langford said,
taking off his lab coat and hanging it on a hook by the door.
“You coming?” he asked Dr. Massey.
“You bet.
I want to hear more about his hand held radar unit.
Go ahead and I’ll put away a few things here and I’ll be right
there.” As soon as the other
two left, he placed their Crypto-level secret documents into the drawer
of the safe type filing cabinet and locked up the cabinet containing the
burned out engine. He made
sure all the elements of the laser were shut down and the cooling system
was working. He hung up his
lab coat, looked back in the lab, gave a sigh of satisfaction, turned
out the light and locked the door.
“You never have told me what you and
Massey are working on. No
one else in the lab has any idea.
Is it something that you can’t tell us about?
Hell we’re all cleared for top secret, you know,” quizzed Dr.
Munroe.
“It’s not that big a deal.
We're attempting to develop a ray that can transmit an entire
text on pulse. For some
reason it came down with a crypto clearance only.
That’s why we can’t talk about it,” offered Dr. Langford.
I guess that makes me a laser liar, he thought.
“From the size of that thing you
should be able to send the Bible to China in one pulse.
I don’t understand; this is a weapons research facility, why are
you two working on a communication device?
I’m pretty sure that’s sort of out of your realm of expertise
isn’t it?”
“Ralph, what can I tell you?
It’s crypto and you’re top-secret.
Since that’s the case let’s, talk about your project.
What does a hand held, heat seeking, radar apparatus accomplish?”
asked Dr. Langford just as Dr. Massey joined them.
“The concept is fantastic.
Picture this if you will: The point man on a night patrol is
moving forward with the squad behind him.
Normally an ambush would let him pass and hit the main body of
the patrol. With this device, he picks up a dozen-heat signature spread
across the trail fifty meters ahead.
He adjusts his M-40 grenade launcher with six rounds of ammo to
his electrically connected radar unit and fires.
The rounds are aimed at each of the blips.
No more ambush and none of our soldiers were even at risk.
It‘s beautiful.”
“You’re right that is a fantastic
idea. How close are you to
completion? Do you have a
prototype yet?” questioned Dr. Massey.
“We’re still getting the bugs out of
the prototype. I noticed
that you have a prototype already completed.
How close are you to a finished product?” Dr. Munroe asked.
“As I told you Ralph, we can’t
really talk about it.
However, said Dr. Langford, looking all around the room and leaning
close to Dr. Munroe, “I can tell you that laser is an acronym for ‘Light
Amplification by Stimulation Emission Radiation’.
Bet you didn’t know that?”
“Okay, please no more sarcasm, I’ll
quit being nosey. I just
can’t help but wonder what a communications project is doing in a
weapons lab. It just doesn’t
make any sense, Phil. It is
also a little strange that it is classified higher than top secret.
The higher-ups must want to make sure that it doesn’t fall into
the wrong hands.”
“Why should such a thing bother you?
The fact that we are working a top secret communication device
shouldn’t be a problem to you.
Ralph if you show too much curiosity…just remember what happened
to the cat. With Uncle Sam,
all things are possible. We
really don’t want to lose you. You're kind of interesting to have
around.” Doctor Massey warned.
They ate their lunch with a
surprisingly silent Dr. Munroe.
He was the youngest scientist on board at the facility.
The thirty-year-old, five foot eleven inch 180 pound doctor stood
out with his dark complexion black hair and clean-shaven face.
He was also one of the few who were not wearing glasses, although
he did have contacts. He
received his Doctorate from Stanford University and had worked in
various government laboratories around the country before coming to RAW
a year earlier.
He was very closed mouth about
himself, almost secretive in fact but always curious and asking
questions about others. He
very seldom answered questions but he was constantly asking them.
He was exceptionally, bordering on overly, friendly.
Most of the personnel just thought he was trying to be accepted
into the group of secret scientist.
He was somewhat irritating but basically likable and was in fact
accepted.
They finished their meal and Dr.
Munroe said he was still hungry.
He ordered a sandwich to go.
When it arrived, they returned to the lab.
Dr. Munroe had finished his sandwich while they were walking
back. As the three of them
entered the lab, Dr. Massey turned to Dr. Munroe, put his hand out and
said, “Sorry Ralph this is as far as I can let you go.”
Dr. Munroe replied, “Hey, I fully
understand. Is your trashcan
available? I’d like to throw
this bag away.”
“Sure over there between the desks.”
was the answer from Dr. Massey.
Dr. Munroe threw the wadded up brown paper bag in the trash,
looked quickly around the laboratory and left.
The two doctors sat down at their desks and rehashed their
project, basking in relief resulting from the accomplishment, and then
settled down to discuss the problem of the power source.
They discussed several possible solutions and decided to start
working the next day on one of the more promising solutions.
Dr. Langford walked to the message
center and gave Specialist Maxwell a crypto message for the Homeland
Security Secretary. It was a
simple message stating that the test of LGEP firing was a success and
that all that remains is a practical power source.
That should be accomplished within the month. That should make
the old man happy and give us a few more months of job security anyway.
Continued testing of the LGEP proved
flawless which added to the exhilaration of the two doctors the next
day. They had even discussed
an existential solution to the power problem.
They should whip the power supply problem and be ready to
demonstrate the device to the higher-ups next week.
Dr. Langford was already making plans for a week of golf at the
Star Pass course by Tucson, Arizona.
Other than the challenge of his job, golf was his passion.
The RAW facility was located in a
large warehouse in Maricopa County just south of the Avondale, Arizona
city limits. Actually the
warehouse consisted of hundreds of empty boxes and crates.
There was a single front entry door on the west side of the
building. A loading-dock the
length of the building was located on the south side.
The four overhead roll up-doors were always closed, except on the
few special occasions when shipping or receiving large crates containing
secret devices. There were
no windows or other entrances in the building.
A ten-by-ten foot building connected
to the corner of the warehouse provided the guard with observation and a
place to cool off after making his rounds.
It was equipped with windows allowing a view east along the
loading dock, south to the fence and beyond and a large window facing
the front of the building allowed viewing of the fence and entrance
gate. The entry door to the
“guard shack,” as it was called, had a glass window that allowed a view
north across the front of the building.
The gate was the only entrance through the chain link fence, with
the concertina barbed wire over hang.
This building was also the Non-commissioned-Officer-in-Charge’s
(NCOIC) office. Sergeant
First Class Hansen held this position and could be found there during
the day.
The inside of the building consisted
of neat rows of what appeared to be full but was actually empty
containers. One of which was
a large Conex container located in the southeast corner of the building.
This was primarily a large metal box used to store and ship
military supplies. It
measured approximately eight feet tall and wide and twelve feet long.
A pair of metal doors was located on one end.
The floor of the container had been removed.
The military policeman on the upper landing and the one in the
basement were armed and had remote control devices that unlocked the
Conex container’s doors.
Once you entered the container, you
began a descent on a ramp to the basement.
There was a desk and chair placed by a closed door at the bottom
of the ramp. An armed
military policeman staffed the desk.
His mission was to check identification, observe the personnel as
they placed their eye to the Iris Identification System, and otherwise
secure the entrance.
The warehouse had a wooden set of
stairs that led up to each side of the twenty square foot office
structure on the inside of the north wall.
There were windows from about waist high to the ceiling
surrounding the office. This
would normally be the warehouse supervisor’s office; however, in this
case it was the Security Director’s office.
An armed military policeman was constantly on duty in the office
overseeing the warehouse area. The security director joined him during
the day. One-armed military
policeman impersonated a stevedore and provided security on the ground
level main floor of the warehouse as well as the outside.
None of the security personnel were in uniform.
No one on the outside of the fence would ever know of his or her
true purpose.