Guardian Program Ch. 33

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Guardian Program Ch. 33

A novel by R.C.PeterGabriel, all rights reserved.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Smith, Mr. Smith," Scott stated in greeting, as he held the door for Sam to get into the back of his car. I watched his face the whole time I descended the stairs from the plane. Once seated, the door was closed and I was still without a clue as to whether or not the news was simply bad, or devastatingly bad. If it had been good news, he would have told us right away, regardless of Sam's request.

Scott was completely deadpan. He did cop-face well. Ex-marine, the first person in history allowed to be assigned to Camp David for more than one tour of duty. Decorated several dozen times, and one of a small handful of people I completely trust my life to. He's also one of a small handful of people still willing to spar with me after their first time.

Sam stayed pressed against me. Or maybe it was I who was pressed against her. I guess the semantics of it didn't matter. I was also trying to do deep breathing exercises to stay calm but without much success. She tried to distract me by saying that we had met at the very airport we just left. I told her she was wrong, pointing out that I had met Julie at the airport and didn't meet her until somewhere over Idaho or Nevada. Immediately after the words came out of my mouth, I was forced to chuckle at myself.

Sam looked slightly crestfallen and asked, "Are you laughing at me?"

"No Baby. I was laughing at myself. I had just thought about the pointlessness of arguing semantics, not ten seconds before I did exactly that. Proof that intelligence isn't the same as wisdom."

"Oh, I think you're as wise as they come," she responded, then snuggled in against me even tighter. However, her distraction bubble popped because I was forced to point out that if I was so wise, we wouldn't be in the situation to begin with. I would have protected Toni and Jessie and I wouldn't be seeing the memory of Jessie scolding me for being careless about security.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I didn't even notice when Scott took us out of the way, getting us to the house from the far side. He drove us into the garage and closed the door before getting out and opening the car door for us.

I thanked him and led Sam into the house. Inside she stopped for a moment, I assume it was to get her bearings with the reversed floor plan. When she nodded to herself, I motioned to the living room. She led the way with Scott bringing up the rear.

The room held seven others, five men and two women. I was overwhelmed by the obvious look of 'cop' that all of them put off. Shepherd was the only one who seemed comfortable being there, but he still had on all of his tactical gear, minus the helmet, so he stood out from all the suits. The fact that he was behind the bar, helped provide the look of comfort.

"Hello Sir, I made this for you," Shepherd stated while holding up a highball. "Mrs. Smith, can I get you anything?"

I crossed the room and shook his hand across the bar, then took my drink. "Dark beer." I requested, then downed about a third of my drink before holding my last gulp. I closed my eyes and savored the rich flavor of my twenty-year-old bourbon. When I heard the top come off Sam's bottle, I opened my eyes and swallowed.

I downed the rest and set down my glass before taking Sam her beer. I looked at Scott. "Okay Greg, I'm as sedated as I'm going to get until after you've delivered the news."

He motioned around the room. "Don't you want to know who's been working with us?" he asked instead of providing the information.

"Look, I'm not a child. I know you're all wondering when I'm going to snap and end the world. I know you're stalling, trying to give my drink time to get to my blood. I also know that you know, I don't need introductions." I started pointing to each individual, and with Hal's help, naming names and who each of them worked for. Lieber had sent Secret Service, Homeland Security, and FBI. "Now Greg, we've been friends for a long time, but you're starting to piss me off. What aren't you telling me?"

Sam set her beer down. I don't think she had even tasted it. She took my hand saying, "Sweetheart, why don't we all sit down."

I took my hand back, "Please Sam, go ahead and sit. I don't want to sit. I've been cooped up in the plane for over eleven hours, plus the travel time before and after. I've been out of my mind with worry. Now for the last time Greg, tell me what you know. Now!"

Scott sighted. "Ease down, Robert. I'll tell you. Just so you know, everyone in the room has signed non-disclosure contracts, and four of the six got here less than an hour ago so they hardly know any more than you do." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "Robert ... you really should sit down."

I knew at that point, that the news was going to be devastatingly bad. I looked behind me to see Sam. Her expression was pained and her perfect eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry Robert," she sympathized and held her hand out to me. I slowly accepted her hand, and the two of us sat on one end of the sectional.

Scott motioned and everyone else but he and Shepherd took a seat as well. I knew Shepherd didn't trust the Feds and probably had his weapon in his left hand below the counter the whole time. He was watching my back, which made me even more anxious because I hadn't thought of the Feds as a risk.

Greg sat on the coffee table in front of us. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, making the space between us more intimate. He was trying to inform me personally, and not make it into a group debriefing.

"Last night before dark we canvased the neighborhood as per your suggestion. We knocked on the door of every home within a quarter mile along the shore, and three blocks inland. We also knocked at any home along the other side of the lake that has a direct view of your house. Not one person admitted to seeing or hearing anything unusual. At least before the standoff that is.

"Of course, no one answered at many homes. When that happened we scanned the house and found nothing of note. All except for your neighbors to the south, the Clemons. We tried to scan into their house but all we found was that it was privacy-protected, under your orders.

"We were all set to call you when Mrs. Smith called."

I squeezed Sam's hand but didn't take my eyes off, Greg. "She had followed the location tracers on both of Toni's and Jessie's phones and found that they had only been in two locations since the conversations that you had had with each of them. One was here, of course. The other was the Clemons'.

"I explained to her that we'd attempted to scan into the house without success, due to the privacy lock. So, she had Hal lift it. What we found was significant. From outside we noted no life signs, but significant quantities of human blood."

I must have gone away for a moment because, in the next second Greg was attempting to pry my fingers out of Sam's, while Don was using a pressure point on my elbow to get me to let go from that end.

When I realized what was happening, I let go immediately and apologized. She flexed her hand assuring me that she was fine, that nothing was broken. Don produced a glass of water, and I thanked him, while Sam snuggled in against me and hugged my arm. I took a long pull on the water and asked Greg to go on.

"We kicked the front door, and what we found was nothing short of a major crime scene, but I want to assure you that our findings show that it is possible, that Toni and Jessie are still alive.

"We found a large blood trail leading from the basement, where there appeared to be a makeshift torture chamber set up. We found evidence that one or more plastic drop cloths were laid down and at least two victims had been suspended from a hook in the ceiling and beaten with a cane.

"Castoff on the walls indicates the torture must have taken place for many hours. There was a splatter pattern on the wall, along with a 9mm slug that would be consistent with a through-and-through shot to the chest of Debra Clemons. No bone was noted but the amount of splatter would indicate a fatal wound.

"Copious amounts of blood belonging to both William and Debra Clemons, led up the stairs and to the garage. There must have been a hole in the tarp or the blood leaked from the end while being dragged. The quantity of blood along the trail, coupled with an estimate from Hal as to the amount that would be left in the tarp or tarps, indicates the certain fatality of both of the Clemons."

I could tell that I was starting to sweat, and I knew Sam could feel it, but I hoped it was subtle enough that no one else could see. I had no idea what was going on and was starting to feel like a caged animal.

Who could have tortured and killed my friends? But, the more important questions to me were, 'Where is the rest of my family', and 'Are they alive'?

"You said, Toni and Jessie, might be still alive," I stated in a voice that even I could tell was pleading.

"Yes ... Robert, the signs did not indicate that they suffered a fatal wound in the house. I do need to tell you that we did find a large carving knife stuck in the torture room's wall that had Toni's blood on it. We also found her blood on the floor at a point that seemed to be the edge of a drop cloth.

"We have no idea how much she bled onto the tarp itself, but the amount we found was less than ten milliliters.

"If they tortured her, they certainly didn't do it in the same manner as they did the others. We found no cast-off or other evidence indicating that they tortured her at all. And we didn't find any of Jessie's blood anywhere on the premises."

I found myself able to relax a small amount, but it was enough that it allowed me to think. "Okay, so it looks like we're back to the kidnapping. I'm sure Toni would have offered them money. The only question is how much she would say I was worth. If she told them about the new phone I'm about to go to market with then the price will be extreme, but no matter what the price I'll let them think they're getting it.

"One thing I'm confused about though is if they knew about the phones alerting us, then that would suggest an inside job. The fact that the Clemons were tortured and killed, suggests that Toni and Jessie were either just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the Clemons tried to bargain for their lives and used them as a bartering tool. It can't be both an inside job and an attack on the Clemons that overflowed to us. It just doesn't compute."

I glanced around the room and saw that my comment had sparked several debates on the subject. The three groups of Feds had each turned to their respective partners to discuss it.

When I looked at Sam, she was crying quietly, making her eyes look even more like the precious jewels that they were. I could see that she had reached the end of her strength, and our roles had just reversed. I was going to have to carry her for a while like she had done for me all day. I scooped her up into my lap and hugged her.

"We'll get through this," I offered simply and wiped away a few of her tears. "There's no bank in the world that I can't manipulate. We just have to wait for a ransom demand, then let them think that whatever account they name has received the funds. Even if they transfer the money out, we'll know where it went before they even have confirmation of the transfer."

That's very interesting, Mr. Smith," stated Special Agent Lois Heidner, of the FBI. "I'd be very interested to know how you could manage that. Regardless, I think I might know how it could be both an inside job and a crime of opportunity."

She had the attention of the entire room, including Sam who sat up to look at her better. "Need to know, Special Agent," I stated, then asked, "What's your theory?"

"You run a security firm that has thousands of employees, worldwide. Is it such a big stretch to think that one of them could be involved in whatever the Clemons were into?"

Sam jumped up with a start and a huge gasp. She ran from the room turning to the left but arresting her progress by grabbing the edge of the archway. A half moment later she ran past headed the other way.

"The phones!" She yelled as she ran past. The rest of us sat dumbfounded for several seconds, before following her. I was on my feet being the first to come to my senses. I stepped on the table Greg was sitting on and used it to hurdle the far side of the sectional.

Hitting the floor running had me out to the room before anyone but Shepherd had made their feet. I reached my office as Sam already sitting in my chair spotted me. Her mouth open, as if she was about to give instructions to Hal, closed it and blushed instead, then stood. "I'm sorry, Robert. I should have asked. May I use your chair?"

"Of course," I responded as the others started to filter into the room. I noticed my 'wall-'o-business', displayed random sporting events, the news or weather, or had blank screens. That was the protocol whenever someone entered my office without authorization to see the information about my businesses.

Sam sat back down and ordered Hal to display all phones belonging to Bridge security personnel within one mile. The main monitor responded with a map of the area, two miles across. As expected, the area around my house had eighteen blips, including the four inside the house.

"Display the timeframe beginning twelve hours before Toni and Jessie Smith's phones went offline."

The monitor changed to indicate only two phones in the area, namely Toni's and Jessie's. When it did, I noticed the number of vehicles in the neighborhood dropped considerably also.

"What's with all the traffic outside?" I asked. "There must be fifty extra vehicles out there."

"Robert," Greg responded. "You can't expect to have a dozen people in combat gear having a standoff with Police and Sheriff's personnel, not to mention a helicopter gunship flying around. Then have the FBI, Homeland Security, and Secret Service all show up without drawing the attention of the media. We'd probably have news helicopters hovering above us right now if Homeland Security hadn't declared a temporary no-fly-zone."

"How are you getting these images?" asked several voices behind me almost at the same time.

"Satellite feed from Bridge Security," I sort of fibbed.

Sam's next order was, "Fast forward until another phone enters the designated area." Hardly a moment went by as the sun came up, shadows and cars throughout the neighborhood shifted or sped by respectively. The display reverted to real-time as a dot representing a Bridge Security phone moved into the area displayed. "Hal, identify the owner of the new phone."

"David Rutschman," stated Hal.

"My driver?" I asked in disbelief, as we watched the blip move along several streets, then the car it was in, vanished once it reached the privacy-protected area around the Clemons' house. The blip representing the phone's location continued and turned into the Clemons' drive, then went to the front door at a slower pace.

After less than ten seconds, it moved inside the house.

"Looks like he was expected," stated Shepherd.

"It does seem that way," noted Allen Richards of the Secret Service.

We watched as David went straight into the garage, stayed only a few minutes, then returned to the foyer. He stayed there for about a minute then moved downstairs. When he did the floorplan changed with him.

"Mr. Smith, it is true that I was born, but I wasn't born yesterday," began Special Agent Heidner. "You have floor plans of every house in the area, and your man Scott here, used the terms 'scanned' and 'life signs', as well as being able to tell that there was 'significant amounts of blood'. All of this was noted from outside the house. Inside he could distinguish DNA from several persons, even though it was mixed together and did it in moments, instead of days of lab testing, as well as determined lethal versus non-lethal wounds.

"Which brings us to your little satellite image. I don't know of any satellite that has its images 'privacy blocked', and they sure as h-e-double-toothpicks can't see when someone moves up or down stairs inside a building.

"Last but not least, Mrs. Smith here is talking to your computer, and it is ... responding! Would you like to tell me what is going on?"

I turned and looked her in the eye. "No," I replied flatly. "You're here to help solve a crime. No, you are here because I had the Secretary of Defense send you here, to avoid having the local constabulary shot.

"You currently have no use for me that springs to mind, except that of media damper. I'm sorry if I'm being rude Special Agent, and I do thank you for helping to bring these clues to light, but I have more important things to do than explain my technology to you. Now, if you could focus, I'll get back to finding my loved ones."

I didn't even bother pointing out that infrared satellites could tell your position within some buildings.

Sam was looking at me when I turned back around, giving me a look that no one but me could have read. It said 'I love you, but you're reacting emotionally again.' I gave her a nod and turned back to the monitor.

Rutschman stayed downstairs for only slightly longer than he was in the garage, then moved back upstairs and went into the kitchen, where he remained.

"Hal reduce visual to a one-hundred-yard radius," Sam instructed. The image zoomed in to include only the Clemons' house, a small portion of my house, and the one on the far side.

"Fast forward," I ordered, causing the dot indicating Rutschman to start squirming slightly faster, but remained where it was.

"Hal, add furniture consistent with what was in the house immediately after the privacy block was removed." A chair appeared under Rutschman's blip, along with the rest of the home's furnishings. It would seem, he was sitting calmly at the kitchen table, drinking something with two others. "Hal, what was in the three cups on the table in front of Rutschman?

"Coffee, with varying additives," Hal began."On the cup noted as one," began Hal, as designations appeared near each of the cups, "has DNA from David Rutschman; the cup noted as two has DNA from William Clemons; and the cup noted as three has DNA from Debra Clemons. All three have traces of DNA from Debra Clemons on the outside of the cups. No other traces were noted."

After slightly more than ten minutes, the blip indicating Rutschman's phone moved to the kitchen counter and then circumnavigated the table, pausing three times, and returning to the counter. It moved to the refrigerator and repeated the process, then returned to the chair it had originally been in.

Scott spoke up. "Rutschman is more than a guest, he's serving coffee as if he's been there a hundred times. And unless more people arrive soon, there wouldn't be enough time to torture anyone, let alone as extensively as indicated."

I glanced at the time stamp. It showed 09:33:41 Mountain (DST) "Hal, how long before anyone else arrives at the Clemons' house?"

"Seven minutes, six seconds."

"Fast forward, to that point."

End of chapter 33. I hope you enjoyed it and all of my work.

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