The Eighty-eighth Key Ch. 52

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When they got back to the base his Huey was just coming out of an overdue maintenance check, and he had been scheduled to take it up for a pre-mission check-out that afternoon - just to certify that the aircraft was indeed airworthy. Back in his flight suit and after donning his helmet, he made his walk around with this particular Huey's crew chief. With nothing amiss, he climbed behind the right stick and started her up, then took off for a fifteen-minute circuit to the south - away from Iraq.

Alone with his thoughts, he thought again about his monologue with Rooney, and the things he'd consciously tried to push out of mind for the last few years, then -

"Yes, I was wondering when you were going to make the connection."

Startled, Callahan turned and saw The Old Man in the Cape sitting in the left seat...

"What the Hell are you doing here!" Callahan snarled.

"Oh, I was just curious. You know, what it was like to fly one of these things. Noisier than I thought, that much I can tell you..."

Callahan pushed the stick hard over - and the view ahead shifted from blue sky to rocks and sand. Callahan looked at the Old Man and saw abject terror in his eyes - so he let up and resumed flying straight and normal.

"What did you do that for!?" the Old Man cried - before he disappeared. Then, a moment later he reappeared: "That really wasn't a nice thing to do, you know?" And with that, he was gone, again.

"Interesting," Callahan sighed as he reefed the Huey into a tight, high-g turn to the left. He flared at the base about ten minutes later, then signed-off on the crew chief's chit. With that done he grabbed Rooney and went to their pre-mission briefing.

"Okay," the Major began, "tonight is kick-off time, and we have new intel we have to run down before the first air assaults hit this region."

"Like, uh, what are we expecting out here?" Rooney asked. "I mean, we're about as far from Kuwait as possible, right?"

"The chatter we're picking up leads us to believe that as soon as the invasion begins Scuds will launch at targets in S.A. and Israel. We're assuming that any launchers this far west will be targeting Israel. Our worst case is a nuke hitting a population center like Tel Aviv, and with that in mind this mission is targeting a large mining operation with an unusual amount of tire tracks around two buildings..."

"Tire tracks?" Callahan asked.

"The mine has been closed for months. The tracks weren't there three days ago. Any more questions?"

"You got overheads?" Callahan asked.

The screen filled with satellite imagery of the mining complex.

"What are they mining out there?" someone asked.

"An odd coincidence here. Bauxite and, well, Uranium. A B-1 out of Diego Garcia is slated to hit the facility at 0200, so we'll want to be on-site at 1130 hours, a half-hour before hostilities commence. If there are launchers in the buildings we need to hit them before they can move into position."

An Army colonel was sitting in on this briefing, and he spoke up now.

"Callahan's and Rooney's ships will be carrying mini-guns on this hop, but we want these two assets to make an initial sweep - then back off. These two ships will be carrying medical teams and a radiologic assessment officer for after-action analysis, so keep these two covered at all cost. And remember, you've got to be out of the area before the B-1 drops. Any questions?"

There were none.

Callahan went back to his Huey as techs finished removing the rocket pods, replacing these with two small Gatling-style electrically operated mini-guns.

"How many rounds?" he asked.

"1500 each side. Here's the weight and balance sheet for your workup."

"Anyone got a weight on this medical team?"

"On the sheet, Captain, other side."

Callahan read through the weights and entered the units - in pounds - on the graph, and anyway he tried it he came up heavy. "Rooney?" he called out.

"Yo?"

"You worked the numbers yet?"

"Yup. Too goddamn heavy is what I get!"

Callahan turned to the techs. "Find me 600 pounds and dump it."

"Captain, this load out comes from the Colonel. We can't..."

"As far as I can tell, the Colonel ain't flying this crate. Now, get rid of 600 pounds cause these things ain't gonna get off the ground at this weight. We clear?"

"What's the problem?" Callahan heard the Colonel asking as he walked into the hanger.

"We're too heavy is the problem," Callahan snarled.

"At night, with these temps and density altitudes? You sure?"

Callahan walked the colonel through the numbers on the graph, and the old man grumbled but nodded in agreement.

"I don't want to send you boys in without weps, but that's the only thing I see you can get rid of. That'll give you about 200 pounds to spare at takeoff."

"Well," Callahan added, "it's that or dump the medical team."

"Captain, some of my boys are gonna get killed out there tonight..."

"Okay, will one med team do the job?"

"Not if it gets shot down," the colonel countered. "I want two teams out there, period."

"Then we go in clean. The only way the numbers work."

"Okay. Sidearms and rifles all around then."

Callahan shrugged. "We can do that, no problem."

"I wonder where the hell my people screwed up this calculation?"

"This is an early 60s model, sir. Optimally, you should have this equipment on a 412."

"Callahan?" the colonel mused. "You the character running the air taxi thing in California?"

"Yessir."

"And you've got 412s?"

"Yessir, for running firefighters at altitude. Nothing better, in my opinion."

"Oh? I didn't know you guys were doing that. Interesting. How about we send you back to Germany and we refit some new 412s with this stuff. Think you could train replacements?"

"Take about a month, sir, from start to finish."

"Well, good. This whole nuclear thing is a crock; Hussein shot off his mouth one time too many, far as I'm concerned anyway, so this is nothing but a waste of time if you ask me."

Callahan shrugged. Because he really didn't know what to say now.

"Well, Ivan won't stay quiet for long. We need to upgrade our equipment in Germany and Korea, and you'd be doing me a favor if you could take this on and see it through. This Rooney work for you?"

Callahan nodded. "Yessir."

"Okay. He goes with you when you head out. We'll let you make a few sweeps out here, as long as you're here, anyway, then send you both back to Frankfurt. Train your replacements then you can go home."

"Thank you, sir."

The colonel nodded. "Should've had you do this ten years ago, but hell, the program should have never been axed in the first place. Well, y'all be safe out there..."

Rooney walked over. "Did I hear that right? Out of here soon?"

"Let's just stay safe, Mick. I see light at the end of the tunnel."

"I see snow, Harry. Swiss snow."

"I hear that, Amigo. Well, let's saddle up and head out."

Take off, head north along the Jordanian border, avoiding the two main highway border stations by cutting inside Jordan, then east - into the desert. 2315 hours, the target mining facility just beyond a low ridge-line dead ahead - and Rooney falls back, letting Callahan's Huey take the lead. Over the ridge and just ahead everything snaps into focus: three Scud launchers and truck-mounted anti-aircraft guns. Then - literally dozens of anti-aircraft batteries open up on Callahan's Huey...tracer rounds leading right to the windshield...Callahan reflexively jinking hard left as hundreds of rounds hit home, the Huey disintegrating before his eyes, the searing pain of dozens of heavy caliber rounds tearing through flesh -

- and an instant later his untouched Huey is miles away in a hover five thousand feet above the desert -

Men in the back are screaming in pain at one point in one reality, and inside the next second they are sitting in puddles of confusion and doubt - their eyes telling one story, memory still trying to comprehend impending death in another, the dissonance creating a rebellion of the senses.

"What the fuck just happened!" a medic screams as he claws at his helmet.

Callahan knows what has happened and his mind instinctively tries to reach for the 'why' - then he catches himself before he falls into the trap...

"That's the Callahan maneuver," he said over the intercom. "Nothin' to it, so y'all just sit back and relax..."

But his mind is trying to reorient to set-point-zero once again, his body rebelling as the effects of the discontinuity grabbed him by the throat.

"Cat 2, Cat 1, you still with us?" Rooney said on the net. "Cat 1, come in!"

"What do you mean am I still with you?" Callahan said, perhaps a little too meekly.

"You just cleared that ridge and the sky lights up - then you were fucking gone!"

"Cat 1 to all units, two Scuds getting ready to launch. Heavy AA units in place. MOVE IN NOW!"

"That weren't no fuckin' maneuver," one of the medics in back cried. "We dead, we in heaven now..."

"Get your head out of your ass!" Callahan snarled. "And stand by to pick up wounded!" The scene below erupted in pure chaos as Hellfires and mini-guns raked the makeshift launch pad, then one of the Scuds lit off, the shock wave from the blast ripping up the night. Cries for help started coming in and Callahan reefed his Huey into a tight turn and came down near a green smoke flare. Men were loaded and he took off, heading straight for base ten meters above the sand.

Rooney arrived about ten minutes after Callahan's Huey, and even before the rotors had spun down Rooney went off in search of Callahan...

"What the fuck happened out there, Harry?" he said when he found Callahan walking with the crew chief.

"What do you mean - what happened?"

"Your ship...man...it disappeared into a wall of tracers - I saw it coming apart in mid air - and then...just fucking gone, man. And then a few seconds later you're miles away and nowhere near the LZ!"

"I kicked the rudder and started a roll right, and hit the collective pretty hard, slipped sideways then up. Learned that trick in 'Nam..."

"Yeah? Well, man, you gotta show me that one sometime, 'cause I ain't never seen nothing like that before."

Callahan turned to the crew chief. "Better check the Jesus nut when you look over the rotor head. I must've stressed the whole rig pretty good."

But by then Rooney had disappeared.

And by then the talk had started. The medics in Rooney's Huey started sharing accounts of what they'd seen and that got everyone wound up again. Then the medics in Callahan's Huey started recounting what it felt like while they were getting shot - and then nothing - just orbiting the scene a couple of miles away from the scene without a scratch on anyone. Rumors spread after that, insane stuff about time travel and ruptures in the space-time continuum, officers got involved and a minor uproar developed. Within hours Callahan and Rooney were sent to Frankfurt, their Hueys following on a re-tasked C-5A; Callahan started developing a curriculum to train a new generation of 'Sniffers' after they settled into their new quarters. Rooney continued to question Callahan for a few days then finally just dropped it. A general came by and asked if Callahan could put together a course stateside and then simply discharged them, then and there. Freshly minted colonels now, Callahan and Rooney put on their civilian clothes and grabbed a train to Zurich.

Callahan called Didi before they caught the afternoon express to Davos, and she met them at the station in time to take them to dinner. After they settled in at the restaurant she started right in:

"Your CFO at the helicopter company called, wanted to know if I could come and help out with some of your business interests there..."

"Yes?"

She shook her head. "That's not going to happen. I am fully engaged here..."

"I take it you are still working for..."

"Exactly," she said, stopping Callahan as she smiled at Rooney. "I'd love nothing more, but under current circumstances, it's simply not possible."

Callahan shrugged. "Medellin again?"

"And Moscow. Even as they seem to be coming undone they continue to stir up trouble in Syria."

"And now Scuds," but Callahan regretted saying that as soon as the words left his lips. Yet Rooney was keeping quiet now, his eyes locked on Didi's.

"Yes," she said. "But the skiing is good here now. I've called my favorite shop; they're expecting you first thing in the morning. You should be up on the slopes by noon."

"Any chance you could come with us?" Rooney asked, and Didi seemed taken aback.

"Me? Really? Actually, I'd love to! I haven't been up once so far this year."

"Great!" Rooney said. "It's a date!"

Callahan watched this exchange silently grinning, knowing it had been at least a year since Rooney had been with anyone - and Didi was anyone's guess. 'Well, this could be interesting after all...' he said as he watched the two of them schmoozing away during dinner.

She had her gear loaded on Avi's Range Rover by the time breakfast was finished the next morning, and she took them into town with one eye on the road - and one eye on Rooney. Two hours later, with new clothes and skis, they rode up the funicular to the summit and Callahan watched Rooney fumble with his skis, not quite knowing what to expect as Didi helped Mickey with his bindings.

"I've never seen anything like these," he confessed. "Marker? What's with the rotating heel?"

"Supposed to release easier, more controlled," Didi said. "Just slide this clip to center the turntable and step down as you normally would."

Callahan hung back and watched Didi flirting with Rooney, utterly amazed she'd apparently fallen for him so quickly. The two of them laughed when they fell, laughed when one tried to help the other back up - only to be pulled down, and he found watching the two of them more fun than the skiing. By the time they stopped for lunch they couldn't keep their hands off one another.

Then he looked around the room.

It was the same as the last time he'd been here - with Avi and Sara - and that hit him like a gut punch. He excused himself and walked out onto the snowpack and he saw the Old Man in the Cape standing on the main observation deck - looking out over the valley.

"I didn't expect to see you up here today," Callahan said as he approached.

"Indeed? I do hope you're not still angry at me."

"Why would I be angry?"

"You should have been more careful, you know?"

"So? Why intervene again?"

"The general and his little pre-flight pep talk? It didn't happen that way. He delayed you by twenty minutes."

Callahan sighed. "So, what you're telling me is that it had already happened once before. Why don't I remember that one, too?"

"Other interventions. Think of several pebbles hitting a pond at the same time. Ripples interact in unpredictable ways."

"You care to tell me what's really going on?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?"

"No, not really."

"At least two groups of people are trying to alter the timeline of your existence, for their own ends."

"And you? Who are you? And why do you care one way or another?"

"I can't tell you that. Not without throwing another pebble into the pond."

"I think I'm beginning to lose touch with reality."

"Understandable, I think. I might if I was in your place, as well."

"Am I caught up in - well, something like a war?"

"More like a dominance dance between rival factions."

"Factions?"

"It's complicated."

"You're joking, right? That thing in Iraq left about twelve witnesses..."

"None having the slightest idea what happened."

"Getting me summarily tossed out..."

"As happened before, Harald."

"What has all this got to do with my mother and her music?"

The Old Man turned to Callahan, compassion in his eyes. "You are on the right path now, so try to stay on it. She left all you need to find your way."

And then the Old Man was gone, and as no one else on the deck noticed anything out of the ordinary Callahan turned and walked back to the restaurant.

Where Rooney and Didi were making goo-goo eyes at each other.

"Anyone still feel like skiing today?" he asked, looking at Mickey.

"Maybe one more run?"

"Sounds great!" Didi said, giggling like a thirteen-year-old.

Callahan rolled his eyes as he settled up and led them back out to the snow.

They stayed for a week, Rooney and Didi keeping at it all night, every night.

His mother's piano, still in the living room, was in tune. On their third night at the house, Callahan sat at the keys and played segments from his mother's Second Concerto, going back to the assault on the Scuds - wondering what version of events he'd find.

Only now he found he could play events almost like he was controlling a VCR, switching angles, fast-forwarding, going back to look at something from another point of view, and he could see almost the exact moment of the intervention. Anti-aircraft rounds slamming into the Huey, glass shattering, bullets hitting him - and several medics in the rear of the aircraft - just before an invisible hand reached out and yanked them backward in time, repositioning the Huey miles away in the process. Still, even after looking at this event over and over again, Callahan was no closer to understanding why it had happened. 'Dominance dance' just didn't mean much to him, because too many pieces of the puzzle were still missing.

He called DD back at the Cathouse, advised he would be returning in less than a week, and that he'd appreciate someone tidying up the house before his arrival. "And ask someone from the shop to get the piano in tune."

"Oh? Are you going to be playing more?"

"Probably," he told her, trying to keep his voice free of emotion.

"I'm sure you'll have company."

"Oh? How's the doc doing with his lessons?"

"Pretty good, I think. He's still trying to play Debussy the way you did."

"Well, good to hear. And Didi is stuck here; other commitments, I guess you could say."

"I figured as much. You might want to spend some time at the shop when you get back. They're burning a lot of incense over there these days..."

"Really? Well, that sounds encouraging..."

"Encouraging?"

"DD, that's called sarcasm. I know that must be a concept wildly unfamiliar to you, but truth be told there are some people who resort to using it from time to time."

"Hah! Anything else I can do before you get back?"

"Well, Mickey seems to have fallen in love with Didi, so you might want to sign him up for Swissair's frequent flier program."

"Sarcasm, again?"

"No, actually."

"Wow. I am impressed. Well Harry, see you soon."

He stayed at the house the next several days, let Didi and Rooney figure out of this thing they'd found had legs or not, then Didi made their flight reservations for the trip back to California.

"I thought the Army was going to fly us back?" Rooney asked. "What gives?"

"We were discharged, Mickey. No paperwork to tend to 'til we get home. And - do you really want to ride home in another C141?"

"Not really, no."

"Okay, so you two go ski your asses off tomorrow..."

"You're not coming?"

"I might," Harry said. "We'll see."

"I kinda wish you would. I have something special in mind."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Concerning Didi."

"I see. When and where shall I meet you two? At the top - by the funicular station?"

"Just come with us in the morning, Harry. I hope that's not too much to ask."

"Okay. Will do."

Callahan agreed - not because he was curious, but he thought this might not go as hoped and he wanted to be around to pick up the pieces if it did. He left them to cook dinner at home and went into town, more to walk the streets and take in the vibe than anything else, but he had his Nikon with him and he wandered the street looking at the world through the viewfinder. After the sun dipped behind the mountains he went to his favorite place for fondue and had a quiet meal to himself.