Dark as Daylight Ch. 12

"Okay, I'll order you a salad."

"If you do, you won't live to testify Tuesday. All that studying will have been for nothing, and you will never see the fourth floor."

"We have an agreement."

"Prove it."

"You gave me your word."

"Get me a steak, medium well, twice baked potato, asparagus, ice tea, black-out cake, coffee, with real cream, and I may remember what I said. Oh yes, and a small Waldorf salad."

"DAD!"

"Don't look at me for help; I have to live with your mother."

"Will?"

"You are on your own little brother. I have to live with a 7-month pregnant woman. Its' not just Pickles and Ice Cream at 4 o'clock in the morning. Her attitude changes with the wind; any wind."

"This is nuts. Do you want Sour Cream, Butter, or both with the potato?"

"Both please."

"Is sex really worth all the crap women put men through Will?"

"HELL YES!"

"I think so too."

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

"You are going to fly that airplane, Patricia?"

"Yes, its' my airplane. Do you have any objections to it?"

"I thought it was a little airplane, that's a big Boeing."

"That's a Boeing 757-500 series. Do you want me to give you the specifications on it?"

"No, that won't help me in the least. Just get me to Charleston in one piece please."

"Then get on my fucking airplane and shut up."

"Okay, okay I'll be quiet."

"Kelly, do you want to play copilot?"

"Hell yes, I'll be just like Halle Berry in the movie, "Executive Decision."

Chase said, "Funny, it didn't look like she was a blonde."

"Sit down Sergeant."

"Only if you'll sit on my lap, Captain."

"You have no idea how often I get that offer."

"Well you just got it one more time."

"Any time you two are finished, we can start our preflight, and get off the ground."

"Yes ma'am."

"Kelly grab that clipboard, and a pen. Write down whatever you hear."

"Yes ma'am, you are the captain."

"Kelly once you learn how to fly a glass cockpit Boeing aircraft, you know how to fly every Boeing aircraft. Boeing designed it that way so the airlines didn't have to retrain every pilot to fly every different aircraft in their fleet..."

Patty continued talking to Kelly, as she maneuvered her way through the sequence of her pre-flight checklist. Her photographic memory was like a sponge, and memorizing this information was like child's play to her. It took her less than one minute to go through the entire sequence. She looked out the pilots' window, to the mechanic, for permission to start up the engine number 2. He gave her the signal, and the engine roared to life

"Albany Tower this is 9130 Victor India, with Bravo."

"9130 Victor India, clear to taxi runway 19."

As she started number one engine, she began moving the big aircraft from its parking spot, towards the taxiway, and pushed the button to get on the speaker.

"We are number 2 to take off. Buckle your seat belts, make sure your tray tables are in the up and locked position, and don't walk around until I turn the lights off. Not only am I your captain, but I am your flight attendant, and anything else you need on this aircraft today. Don't piss me off; that goes for you too Lucius, or I will fly this thing upside down."

He shook his head. "Why William, why is she your daughter. I would gladly hang her upside down and whip her backside, with a cane, if it wasn't for you."

"9130 Victor India is cleared for takeoff. Climb to Flight Level 350, contact Boston Center, 122.15, leaving 1-1 thousand."

Patty repeated the clearance, pushed the throttles forward, and the aircraft started its run, southbound on runway 19. She pushed the aircraft into a steep climb to meet the noise restrictions in the area.

When she turned off the seatbelt sign, Lucius headed for the flight deck, while everyone else headed for the galley to get something to eat.

"How long is it going to take us to get there?"

"The computer says 2 hours and 47 minutes. There are thunderstorms all the way down the coast, and if I deviate, or if Air Traffic Control makes me deviate around them, it will take us longer. We don't play with thunderstorms, Lucius, they throw airplanes around, like they are a child's toy."

"I know; I'm just thinking about the people on the ground."

"I will do the best I can to get you there as fast as possible, but I will also do it as safely as possible."

"Why is that light blinking?"

"It's reminding me that we past 11,000 feet, and I'm supposed to change high-frequency to the Boston Center, on 122.15."

"You didn't turn around to look at the light, to see which one is blinking."

"If it was any other light than that light, an alarm would have sounded along with it. Then I would have turned around to see what was happening. I know this aircraft Lucius, backwards and forwards, from the top to the bottom. I've read every manual, every update, and every warning that come out for it. I am as up-to-date on this 757, as any pilot in the fleet. The only reason I don't get a pilots' license is because they want me to start with a single engine, propeller driven airplane, and fly it for 250 hours so I can take a test to move up to a dual engine propeller driven airplane, and repeat the same thing. Then I have to start my jet training which takes thousands of hours, to get my rating. It's all bullshit, because some asshole wrote a book one hundred years ago, and they haven't changed it since. They won't allow you to deviate from it, so I do it my way. If they ever take me to court because I don't have license, and I'm flying this airplane, all my lawyer has to do is start asking me questions about it. When he gets through with me, the FAA will have nowhere to go in their cross-examination."

"I hate you Patty. I think I hate everyone with a photographic memory. You make everything sound so easy, and for you it is."

"Then you must hate yourself. You have a photographic memory, and never put it to use except for your military operations, and to do my dad's bidding. Think about that, while you get your ass out of my flight deck; I'm busy."

On the way back to his seat, Lucius thought about what she said. He never thought about his retention of knowledge in that manner. He believed it was his years of reading, studying, looking at maps, knowing every kind of weapon, knowing its strongest and weakest points. It was his life, and he was better at it then anyone else. He could look at any map placed in front of him for the first time, and dissect it into its most basic parts in microseconds. They could tell him he had this arms package, and this many soldiers. He had to defend, or attack that position. They would give him an amount of time to do it, and he always finished earlier than expected, and with a plan that was so good it would be implemented many times in the field.

Finishing number 2 in his class at West Point was a disappointment. It was his size that held him back from the number 1 prize. He was number one in all the academic areas by a wide margin, but in physical strength, he could not compete.

At 17 years old, when he entered the Academy, he weighed 138 pounds. He was fast, and could run forever. He became an elite athlete, in track and field sports. However, when it came to the strength category, he was unable to compete with his peers.

During his 1^st tour of duty, he became a serious advocate of the martial arts. He trained his body as he trained his mind, religiously. Regardless of where he was stationed, he trained every day, usually taking three classes per week. He practiced, while not on official duty hours. He became a master of three Oriental arts, in under four years. Each was exactly the same. Each was totally different. Each melded with the other to form 'a perfect combination of mental preparation, personal control, devotion to God, passion for life, skill, and ruthlessness.

This preparation added emphasis to his military readiness. His fitness reports were over the top. Commanders vied for him to be in their units, and when they got him, like water, all the other ships in their command tried to rise to his level.

He never failed to be promoted on the first go round. Then came the breakup of Yugoslavia into what is now Bosnia-Herzegovina, and all hell broke loose.

Supposedly, it was under the control and command of the United Nations, because there were many nations involved trying to end the bloodshed and ethnic cleansing that was taking place.

As usual, the United States was the main player, and it was the American army in the field that was seeing the most action. The best 'Company' they had in the field was run by a young Major, Lucius C. Canyon. He always seemed to be in the right place, at the right time. He managed to make command headquarters change plans because of new intelligence he received in the field, in a timely fashion, from captured enemy soldiers.

Command would send him an order to reach a certain position in two days, to join another company, to relieve a city that was under the control of the Serbs. His radioman would send back a reply that the city had been relieved of its invaders. They were now pushing them further back into the hills. They were miles 15 kilometers beyond the city, requesting new orders on how far they were to chase the enemy.

His company became so good under his command; they couldn't control him. He would see things on a map that he knew needed to be accomplished, under the U.N. guidelines, and did them without authorization.

Command sent out a combined order, to his and other companies, a timeline for it to be accomplished, along with a starting time.

One such order was for him to join with these 2 other 'Companies' take the town of Donji, in preparation for an assault on the city of Vakuf.

He replied was, "I am having dinner at a restaurant in Vakuf. Should I pay the bill now, before I start my retreat to Donjo, or pay for it when I return?"

For some reason his promotion to full Colonel was denied, and it never came up for review again. He seriously pissed off some very important people, with that remark, but he did not care. He kept moving forward. His men loved him, and his style of command. They could always see his back, because he was always in front of them, leading the way. He never lost one soldier he trained, because he would not allow them to fail. Training under his watchful eyes was brutal. It was worse than being is battle. That is why they survived this hellish war. They were the elite 'Company', the 'Elite Soldiers.' They received the most grueling assignments, and they accomplished each one, without any loss of life.

They were constantly called off their missions to help 'Companies', who were in dire straits. They would move with speed and stealth, hit the enemy at his weakest point, and relieve the 'Company' that was in trouble.

His 'Company' received medals, his 'Men' received medals, he did not. He didn't care, he moved on.

Then they found out how he received such great intelligence about the enemy, and they had a way to get rid of this thorn in their side. They brought him up on charges of 'Abuse of Prisoners of War.' It was done by the CIA all the time, behind closed doors, and by both sides in this crazy war.

He brought the press to mass graves to show that neither side was an innocent victim in this war. The Generals' said he was not allowed to do it to save American, or allied soldiers' lives.

He threatened to call higher ranking Generals to the stand...who would back him, and his methods up.

The Military Court changed the charges to "For the Benefit of the Service.'

He didn't like it, but it was the lowest charge they could use to have him leave the service, without the loss of his rank, and still receive his pension.

Members of the press yelled 'Foul' when they heard what they did to this fine officer, and soldier. His story was in the news for days, as the Pentagon tried to dance around the issue of treating enemy POW's as required by the Geneva Convention.

When the SecDef was asked if Milosevic followed the same rules, he said, "I don't know."

Siebert replied, "Your Generals' do. They know the enemy kills our soldiers, when they refuse to cooperate. They also kill them after they cooperate. You were briefed on this by Lt. Colonel Lucius Canyon, 9 months before his superiors kicked him out of the Army."

"I would have to refer to my schedule to verify that briefing, because I don't remember it."

William was watching a news programs, while they were interviewing this diminutive, wiry man, and liked the way he thought on his feet. Nothing that he was asked bothered him, or made him reach back for an answer. He needed a new body man, but Lucius Canyon didn't look or fit the bill physically. Mentally, he liked the man. He would try him out against some of his best men to see how we stood up.

When he was approached, Lucius had two questions: Who is William Zabo, and what is a body man.

After he was informed of the details of his job, Lucius said, "I'll give it a shot."

They met for the first time in an elite training facility on the west side of Manhattan, two days after his initial meeting with William's envoy. They spoke for a few minutes, and William said, "I've read about your military career, and it would appear that you are more concerned with getting the job done, then waiting for orders to do it. I like that in a man. It shows initiative, foresight, and courage. You knew you're going to catch hell from your superiors. Their thinking is always three days behind the action. Let's see what you can do here, and we will talk about your future. Stephen will tell you the rules."

"Colonel, you'll meet three opponents. One heavyweight, one middleweight, and one light weight. Each bout will last 30 minutes, or until either party yields. Style means nothing, winning does. All three men work for Mister Zabo, and have for many years. They have proven their worth, to prove yours, you must show you are worthy of employment. There are no gloves, and no headgear, no safety equipment. If you have any qualms about this, you may leave"

"I understand; we can begin anytime they are ready."

"This is Miguel, and he is our heavyweight. When the bell rings, you have 30 minutes to become acquainted with one another."

The bell rang and Miguel came at Lucius like a boxer, Lucius bounced around like a lightweight boxer also. Miguel had at least an 8-inch reach advantage over Lucius, and began throwing quick jabs at his head. Since he was also so much taller, the jabs were easily ducked under by Lucius, who moved in and hit Miguel quickly, in the area of his heart

Miguel laughed as he backed up. "Is that all you have a little man. If it is you are in trouble."

He moved in again, and threw the first punch that landed. It hit the Colonel on his right shoulder, spun him around, and he went to the floor.

Miguel moved in for the kill. He was standing over Lucius, smiling, as his right hand moved up into the air.

Lucius left hand reached up, grabbed Miguel's nuts and squeezed them like oranges.

Miguel screamed in pain, and moved to get away from Lucius.

Lucius said, "If you take one more step, I'm going to use my right hand and smash them until they burst. Do you yield?"

"Yes," Miguel yelled, "Let me go, you're killing me. Let go!"

Less than one minute had elapsed, and the first fight was over.

Lucius look over at William Zabo, who sat there, with a placid look on his face. It was as if nothing interesting had happened.

Stephen walked onto the mats and said to Lucius, "Colonel, it is your choice; you can wait until the remaining time has expired, or you may begin the second match now."

"We can start it now, Stephen."

"Very well; this will be your middleweight fight. Frank will be your opponent. The rules are the same; you have 30 minutes from the time the bell rings."

Frank was a very muscular, Afro-American man, with intense eyes, and black skin. He moved like a cat, as the Colonel watched him warm up.

The bell rang. Frank came at him, in a boxers' stance, but swung his right leg at his head. Lucius ducked under it, and swiped his left leg out from underneath him, causing Frank to fall on his ass.

Frank bounced up laughing. "So, you have some skills. This should be fun."

Each of them landed blows, and watched each other closely for signs of weakness. Neither found the other wanting, as the bout past the 3-minute mark.

Frank believed the Colonel was slowing down, as he was bending over more frequently, and appeared to be breathing harder. He traded punches, aiming for the Colonel's chest, in an attempt to make him breathe harder still.

When it appeared to be the right time, he jumped, in attempted to scissor lock the Colonel's neck, and get him into a submission hold.

Lucius ducked under his legs, and grabbed Frank's neck. He twisted it, and Frank's body followed, landing his face on the floor.

Placing his thumb and forefinger on a pain inducing trigger point, Frank screamed.

Lucius increased the pain, utilizing his left hand on another, highly sensitive, trigger point.

Frank was in agony, as he tried to break Lucius hold on his neck and back.

"Do you yield?"

"Yes, dammit, yes." Frank yelled.

Lucius let him go, but told him not to move, while he used his hands to desensitized the nerves he just abused.

When he allowed Frank to get up, Frank shook his hand.

"Nice move Colonel, where you really tiring?"

"No, it was just a ploy to get you to use your best move. I wanted to see it, before I put you down."

"Are you telling me you could've taken me earlier?"

"I didn't want you to feel bad about your skill level."

"Will you teach me one day?"

"If they hire me, I will train you all."

"Are you really that good?"

"No, I'm better than that."

"You are going to have to prove it to me. Zeke is the best of all of us. He's faster than lightning, and stronger than steel. None of us have ever beaten him."

"I will."

"Good luck Colonel, I will be watching."

"Don't blink, you may miss the action."

Lucius looked over to see what Mister Zabo was doing. Again, he was sitting there as if nothing interesting had happened.

Lucius was not amused. He decided to dispatch Zeke quickly. That might make this man take notice, and if it didn't, screw him. I've dealt with Generals before, and this one will just be another one, who hasn't the foggiest idea about security.

Stephen stepped onto the mats again, and gave the Colonel the same options he heard before.

Lucius told him he was ready, and there was no need for a delay. He was introduced to the Zeke. They were told to begin, when the bell rang.

Zeke went to the far side of the mats to loosened up. He did handstands, push-ups, back-flips, cartwheels, and other gymnastic moves that showed off his fitness level, his flexibility, and his strength.

Lucius stood in the center of the mats, utilizing the same bored expression Zabo used as he gazed at him.

Finally, Zeke walked to the middle of the mats. He stood there with his arms dangling at his sides. It was as if the Colonel didn't matter to him. The Colonel was too old, too short, too thin, and too tired to mean anything to him today. He had taken the measure of this old man, and found him wanting.

They waited for the bell.

The Colonel smiled. Zeke smiled.

The bell rang.