

# Brain Worms

Charles Kaluza, DO

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Charles Kaluza

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Forward

My intention for writing "Brain Worms" was to explore the potential for using the cystic stage of the pork tape worm as a bioengineering tool. The basis of the story was a patient who had presented to my hospital some years back and the ensuing discussion amongst us physicians. It was remarkable how few symptoms he had from the multiple cysts in his brain. Apparently the human body tolerates the tapeworm cyst with very little inflammatory reaction, which would allow us to use it medically if we could genetically engineer the tapeworm to do our bidding.

All characters and scenes are entirely fictional and all religious references are meant to merely enhance the story. This work is not meant to be an affront to any ethnic or religious group but merely a story to explore the potential of bioengineering. Using bioengineering to allow for control of someone's mind has been an interesting experience which I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

Holding the syringe up to the light, Dr. Ahmad could see tiny moving crescents. These were his babies: the product of Arab science. Dr. Ahmad listened absently while the surgeon explained to the young Saudi about the mild burning he was about to feel in his ear. The surgeon touched the eardrum with a small pledget of phenol that produced enough burning to bring tears to the young man's eyes. Almost immediately, numbness and blanching of the eardrum followed. Dr. Ahmad passed the syringe to the surgeon almost reverently. The surgeon removed the cover from the syringe and attached a long needle. Staring intently at the monitor, Dr. Ahmad watched the needle advance through the ear canal and penetrate the eardrum. The surgeon slowly pressed the plunger and the precious fluid was injected into the ear.

After the needle was removed, Dr. Ahmad could easily see his creations. One hundred of his genetically engineered worms were wiggling around the middle ear of God's newest recruit, searching for an opening into his brain. Not all of them would make it, but enough would to give this warrior superhuman strength when the time came.

The surgeon asked the young warrior if he felt dizzy. Hearing a negative reply, the surgeon told him to sit up. Dr. Ahmad could see the twitching in the young man's eyes and knew he had some dizziness. It would soon pass. The young man complained of a sensation of movement in his ear and the surgeon said, "It is from the medicine. That feeling will gradually diminish."

Dr. Ahmad recited a short prayer of thanks and handed the warrior a modified cell phone. He reminded the young man, "This phone is now your most precious possession. It is what will activate the power of God now instilled in your ear. When the time comes, you will be given the code which you must enter into the phone and then inhale deeply with the antenna in your nose."

Chapter 2

When Dr. Harry Williams arrived at the emergency room, the receptionist greeted him with a simple, "Room 13." Harry walked to the far end of the emergency room and stood in the doorway watching the activity. The patient was anesthetized and connected to the respirator, but the EEG monitor still showed spikes of activity suggesting persistent seizure formation despite the general anesthetic. Harry spoke up saying, "I think you should deepen the anesthesia."

Both the ER Doc and the anesthesiologist looked up to see the doorway filled with Harry. Harry asked, "What do we have?"

The ER Doc replied, "This young adult male of Middle Eastern descent was brought in because of status epilepticus. Seizures began almost two hours ago with no prior history. Patient had been complaining of a headache recently and became progressively more confused this afternoon. The grand mall seizures persisted despite IV Phenobarbital. We just now got him anesthetized. I was about to perform a spinal tap."

Harry said, "I'm not sure I would do that. It sounds like he has developed hydrocephalus and if you relieve any pressure in the spinal column he may end up herniating his brainstem."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. How about I let you take over here and I see to the other patients. They're stacking up."

Harry replied, "Happy to help. Seems like the craziness has started early this evening."

Harry spent less than a minute examining the patient. Not much to examine when the patient is anesthetized. The young man seemed to be in his mid-twenties and in good health. His tongue was grossly swollen and dark colored from being repeatedly bitten during the seizures. There was some bleeding from one of the ears but no obvious skull fracture. He did use an ophthalmic scope to look in the patient's eyes and saw the papilledema, which is the hallmark of increased intracranial pressure.

Harry asked when the MRI scan was going to be done. The nurse responded, "Radiology is backed up. It will be a couple hours." Harry picked up the phone and called radiology himself. When the MRI tech tried to explain how busy they were, Harry barked, "I am declaring a neurosurgical emergency and I want the MRI done now!"

The tech replied, "It will take me a couple of minutes to get the patient out of the unit. Do you want anything special?"

Harry said, "I need the head down to the brainstem, with and without contrast, using the protocol for the surgical halo. And the patient is already anesthetized."

"Yes, sir."

The anesthesiologist grumbled about the hassle and risks of moving an anesthetized patient, but Harry said, "We have no choice. Let's get going."

The entourage proceeded in a somewhat orderly fashion to radiology, and despite the grumblings of the anesthesiologist, moved the patient onto the MRI unit. After the initial setup, Harry said, "I'll go get something to eat while you're getting your pictures."

The anesthesiologist complained again, "If I have to sit up here while you eat, at least bring me something when you come back."

"Anything in particular?"

"None of the greasy stuff. Something that looks reasonably fresh."

Harry was so busy arguing with himself about the possible diagnosis that he forgot to pick up something for the anesthesiologist to eat. The cafeteria was closing down when Harry remembered. He asked one of the kitchen staff, "Do you have anything I can bring upstairs. I promised the anesthesiologist I would bring him something to eat."

"Would a ham and cheese sandwich be OK?"

"Thank you. That would be great."

Harry returned to radiology about the time the first MRI pictures were available. Not only were the dilated ventricles of hydrocephalus evident, but even without contrast the multiple cysts in the frontal lobes were obvious. It was not until the scan had progressed to the brainstem before Harry was sure of the diagnosis. A cyst was plugging the outlet to the fourth ventricle. Harry muttered, "Brain worms."

The anesthesiologist asked, "What are you talking about, brain worms?"

Harry explained, "These cysts are caused by the larva of an intestinal worm, a tapeworm, I think. These images are just like the published reports. Never thought I would see a case myself. We have to remove the cyst from the fourth ventricle. I'll go up and get the surgical crew set up. As soon as they are done here, let's transfer up to surgery."

Harry checked the position of the sensory halo one last time, making sure all the screws were firmly embedded in the patient's skull. He centered his incision over the right eye, high on the forehead. With one stroke, the scalpel sliced through the shaved scalp and muscles down to the bone. He used the electrocautery to stop the bleeding. Using a sharp elevator, he lifted the pericranium off the skull, exposing the cream-colored bone. He carefully measured down from the coronal suture and marked the bone with a surgical pen. He said simply, "Drill."

The nurse handed him the drill that seemed to almost disappear in Harry's huge hands. All the normal chatter in the operating room ceased when the whine of the drill began. Everyone's teeth were clenched slightly as the high-speed drill ate into the patient's skull, a sound reminiscent of a dentist office on steroids. As Harry began to expose the smooth white dura matter covering the brain, he had the nurse change the drill bit to a diamond burr. With a very light touch, Harry carefully sculpted the edges of the hole, removing all sharp edges. When the hole reached the size of a nickel, Harry was satisfied and stopped to stretch.

This break gave the anesthesiologist a chance to resume his complaining, "You know, I'm missing dinner just so we can help this rag head who doesn't even have any insurance. He probably isn't even a legal resident."

Harry let him go on for a bit before saying, "At least it's not the middle of the night. Besides, it doesn't matter if he was bright green and from Mars, he still needs our help. You make sure he doesn't move and let me relieve the pressure on his brain before permanent damage is done."

The anesthesiologist then complained about excess radio interference with his instruments and asked if anyone had a cell phone on. Nobody admitted having a phone on, and Harry said, "Let's just get the job done."

"Easy for you to say. But the radio interference is screwing up my electronics and I'm having a hard time adjusting the anesthesia depth. We need to get those electronic guys back and do another evaluation. I thought they had fixed the problem. How can you expect me to work in a situation like this?"

In response, Harry asked, "How did you get by before you had all of this electronic monitoring stuff?"

"Same way you did before your fancy computer guidance stuff was available. I doubt you would want to go back to the old days of guessing where you were in the brain."

The conversation ended when Harry held out his hand and the nurse placed the pencil-like brain trocar in it. Indenting the dura matter with the point of the trocar, Harry looked up at the monitor. He adjusted his angle slightly to correspond with the guideline displayed on the monitor, which displayed a three-dimensional adaptation of the patient's brain. With slightly more force, Harry pushed the trocar through the brain's covering and into the brain substance of the right frontal lobe. Everyone in the operating room but Harry shivered a little as the trocar penetrated into the brain. Harry advanced the trocar about three inches before the computer monitor indicated he had entered the lateral ventricle. The collar of the trocar sheath was secured to the surgical halo and Harry removed the center shaft. The clear brain fluid began to flow out of the hollow tube. Harry controlled the fluid by simply putting his thumb over the open port. He said simply, "Scope."

Harry passed the flexible scope into the lateral ventricle. The video monitor shared his view with everyone in the room. The ventricle wall was smooth and shiny with the blood vessels obvious along the surface. Harry operated the controls like a fancy video game, advancing the scope into a short tunnel, the interventricular foramen. Once into the third ventricle, Harry continued his dissent into a much longer interconnection, the cerebral aqueduct. The scope was able to descend to the base of the brain through this passage only because it was dilated from the increased pressure. When Harry's view changed from the narrow aqueduct to the more open space of the fourth ventricle, the large cyst was evident. Advancing the tip of the scope slowly, several smaller cysts could be seen floating freely. Inside each cyst was a small structure, the cysticercus. When Harry advanced the scope next to one of the small cysts, he was sure the larva was still wiggling. He captured as many of the small cysts as he could using a small suction catheter.

The large cyst was much too large to simply aspirate up the catheter. Harry had to puncture the cyst and drain it before it could be removed. He passed the small grasping forceps through the narrow suction port of the scope and grabbed the cyst wall. He gradually withdrew the scope, dragging the cyst behind it. The brain fluid immediately began draining and the pressure on the brain began to recede.

Harry removed the scope with the large cyst dangling from the tip and held it up like a hunting trophy for everyone to see before placing the cyst in a specimen jar for the pathologist. Harry reinserted the scope and saw the dilated intraventricular foramen was already narrowing. He again maneuvered the scope down this passage to the floor of the third ventricle. He used a small catheter to make several punctures through the wall to create another drainage port to prevent a cyst from again blocking the natural drainage.

The hard part was now done. Harry removed the trocar sheath and began repairing the bone with a titanium mesh and dura patch. The anesthesiologist asked, "How often do you see these brain worms?"

Harry continued his work as he replied, "Once."

"But, it looked like you knew what you were doing."

"I read an article about it."

"Geez, sure glad the patient didn't know you hadn't ever done this before."

Harry laughed his big laugh and said, "Surgery is surgery. These brain worms are pretty interesting though. We had better start this guy on steroids. His brain is going to swell some."

Harry finished sewing the deep layers together and then stapled the scalp closed before applying the head bandage. The circulating nurse asked him what she should do with the small cysts Harry had removed. Harry said, "Put a couple of them into a specimen tube for me so I can show them to the patient when he wakes up. The rest can go to pathology."

The nurse very gingerly placed a couple of the cysts in a tube, checking several times to make sure the cap was sealed. They made her so squeamish, she could not help shuddering. She asked, "Are these things actually eating his brain?"

Harry answered, "I don't think so."

As Harry was about to leave the OR she said, "Here, don't forget your friends," and handed him the tube.

He laughed again before saying, "Thanks for your help. I'll start writing orders and meet you in the ICU."

Chapter 3

Harry arrived at the hospital before dawn to check on his patient one more time before signing off to his partner. Dressed in his fishing clothes, he did not have the appearance of a distinguished neurosurgeon, but looked quite comfortable in his non-medical attire. When he arrived at the ICU, he found his patient missing. The nursing staff was upset and tried to explain. They had been working on a tough code and when things settled down, they realized Harry's patient was gone. Hospital security had notified the police but they had not yet arrived.

Harry objected, "How could you lose my patient? The patient was in no condition to leave the hospital. Was he even awake?"

The ICU nurse let Harry vent, knowing he was a gentle giant. She finally interrupted him saying, "Dr. Harry, it wasn't our fault."

Harry was quiet for just a minute before replying, "Sorry. I have a lot on my mind. Having this patient disappear doesn't help. If he shows up, call my partner. I'm going fishing."

The two-hour drive to the river put-in gave Harry time to settle down. Pulling over at the scenic overlook, Harry spent a minute looking at the changing browns and grays of the canyon walls. To the far left, the river was a blue ribbon with the white rapids looking like pearls sewn on. When he had first seen this high desert country, it had been a scene of desolation. But over the years, the open sky and the scent of sagebrush had won his heart. Before he dropped down into the Deschutes Canyon and lost contact with the outside world, he called the hospital one last time. His patient had not been found and the police were not very interested. When he spoke with the pathologist, he was surprised to learn that his surgical specimens had never arrived in the lab. None of this made any sense. But then a lot of things in his life were not making any sense.

Harry's thoughts returned to the argument he had with his wife as she was leaving. How could she be so unhappy and not understand his need to work. Medicine gave his life meaning and seemed somehow to compensate for his previous life in the military. Saving lives balanced the ledger with the ending of lives he had been so good at previously. His anger rose just thinking about how his wife had called surgery a mistress she could not compete with. She wasn't competing with it. He tried to create balance in his life, but she was never happy with her share. A week of solitude on the river doing battle with only his flyrod would help.

Harry's attitude was just beginning to improve as he descended into the steep canyon. This jewel of a river snaking its way between the basalt cliffs in the high desert canyon held the promise of healing. The first three days of solitude battling white-water in his old battered raft settled Harry down enough that he began to actually enjoy life again. The fishing was fantastic, but the catching a bit slow. It didn't matter; life was regaining a better perspective. His thoughts of his wife were no longer so angry and upsetting. Maybe he had been working too much. She used to enjoy the river trips even if she didn't fish. The sunshine and quiet time to read were her rewards, even if she clenched the raft rope with a death grip every time they bounced through the rapids. It had been a couple of years since they had done a river trip together.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when he recognized the big bend which ended at washout rapids. When he had first started rafting the river, he would lower his raft through the rapids with ropes rather than risk losing control in the huge trough and standing wave. As his confidence built, he learned to run the rapids and enjoyed the challenge. He set up on the far right side with the bow pointed at the bank. As soon as he passed through the chute he would pull hard back to the center of the river below the standing wave. He did a quick inspection, making sure all his gear was secured, and stretched his shoulders. The roar of the rapids was growing and his raft accelerating, when he heard the distinct sound of a rifle shot. As he entered the chute he noticed his left raft tube was beginning to soften and pull the raft to the left. Harry worked hard with the oars trying to keep the raft to the right of the turbulent water. Pulling for all he was worth, he was thrown backwards when his left oar broke off. The drag of the deflated left tube sucked him into the main flow of the rapids, with Harry struggling to regain his seating.

He could feel his raft being sucked into the boiling water but time had taken on a different dimension. In slow motion his raft went vertical as it began ascending the standing wave. In agonizing slowness, it flipped over and slid back into the trough. Harry had time for one last breath of air before he and his raft went under. He was in a giant washing machine that tumbled continuously. Harry held on to the raft rope as tightly as he had ever held onto anything. The agitation of the roiling water kept trying to tear his grip free. Harry's lungs began to burn with the desire to breathe. He now understood the old-timers saying, "The danger is there is too much air to float but not enough to breathe." Suddenly the raft shot upwards, dragging Harry with it. He had time for only a single breath before he was again sucked below. He kept his grip on the raft, knowing that without the raft's buoyancy, he could be kept below indefinitely. The urge to breathe became overwhelming. Harry felt the darkness coming; he was losing his ability to fight. The river was winning.

Harry was barely conscious, yet held onto the raft. His powerful hands felt the stronger surge of the rope as the raft was ejected from the trough. But Harry was no longer aware. His life preserver kept his head above the water as he floated downstream. Awareness gradually returned and produced violent coughing as Harry tried to clear his lungs of water. Still clutching the rope in a death grip, Harry regained some control as he drifted into an area of large boulders along the shore. Harry let go of the raft and it continued downstream. He lay hidden, half submerged amongst the boulders. His coughing gradually cleared and he regained some semblance of thinking. He wasn't sure which side of the river the shot had come from. The current was now on his left as he faced upstream; he had landed on the west shore.

Harry lay as motionless as he could, trying to stay unseen, but the cold was seeping in through his wet clothes and he began shivering. The shadows were advancing down the canyon wall as the sun settled in the West. Hypothermia was setting in, but Harry refused to move from his protection; his survival instincts overriding his physical discomfort. When the canyon shadows finally covered him, Harry was shivering so much it was difficult for him to crawl on to dry land. His waders were full of water and his feet and legs appeared massively swollen. He worked his way between some sagebrush and a large boulder and lay with his head pointed downhill, allowing most of the water to run out of his waders. As he stood up, he heard the distinct rattle of a snake that was not happy to be sharing his rock with Harry. Harry froze until he heard the snake moving off in the rock crevices, which seemed to amplify the sound of the rattle. He began stripping his clothes off. He wished he were wearing the high-tech clothing which his wife kept buying for him, with its quick drying characteristics, instead of his preferred jeans and flannel shirt. He leaned up against the stone, trying to absorb as much heat from it as he could. The coolness of the evening was coming on as he finished wringing out his wet clothes. The stone's heat helped, but he needed to get moving just to get warm.

Harry had no proof that someone had tried to kill him. His instincts had kept him alive while he was in Special Ops with the Navy; he wasn't going to doubt them now. He took stock of his armament which consisted of a small pocketknife, his car keys and the miniature flashlight on his key chain. He was 10 miles from the nearest road and it was going to be a dark night. His only shoes were the wading shoes with the felt soles and metal cleats. It was going to be hard to traverse the rocky terrain without making noise from the metal cleats. His life preserver would provide some warmth, but it was bright yellow. Better to be not seen than a bit warmer. Harry tried walking in the wading shoes without the waders but there was no way to tighten them up enough to keep his feet from sliding around. Traversing the canyon walls with the waders on would have been impossible. He used his pocketknife to trim the feet off of the waders and laced his boots up as tight as possible. It was not mountain climbing gear. But it was all he had.

Time to get going. Whoever shot his raft would be looking for him. Harry policed the area, trying to remove any trace of his having been there. Nothing he could do about the water he had dragged up. He let the life preserver float down the river, but packed his waders with him until he could hide them properly. He moved uphill slowly, stopping next to rocks and sagebrush to listen for other movement. As Harry moved up the canyon wall, he could see the band of darkness approaching from the east. Soon the blackness of night would be upon him. The climb up the steep canyon walls warmed Harry and his thinking improved. It was 10 miles to the take-out, depending on how far he had drifted below washout rapids. Once he reached the high country, the going would be fairly easy. But there was a small rock wall he would have to traverse first. The light reflecting off of the opposite canyon wall provided him with his last chance to plan his route. He studied the wall as he moved higher, trying to memorize his every move. The band of blackness reached him before he reached the wall, and the darkness of night set in.

Harry kept moving upward until he reached the rock face. He worked his way to the right until he found the pyramid shaped rock that signaled the start of his climb route. He rested for a few minutes. Looking down towards the river, he saw a light moving slowly. For just the briefest of seconds, he thought of calling out and asking for help but his survival instincts took control. A rescue party would almost certainly involve a helicopter with searchlights. And who would know he even needed rescuing? He wasn't due at the take-out for another three days. Whoever was moving with the small light did not appear interested in rescuing Harry.

The evening was cooling off quickly and just a few minutes of rest allowed the chill to settle back in. Harry's feet were already hurting. These wading shoes were not meant for serious hiking, much less mountain climbing. Exploring his route using his hands was tedious, but Harry made steady progress. The trail he had chosen was worn and he discovered a small pile of oval pellets. Deer have been going this way. Harry moved upwards, feeling his way and following his mental map. The going was slow, but he made steady progress until the deer trail and his planned route diverged. Harry took another rest and considered his options. The deer trail headed up to the right along a small shelf, but Harry's planned route followed a rock fault to the left. Critters had established their trail over the centuries and Harry had planned his route in the failing light. The deer knew where they were going. But were they going where Harry wanted to go? Harry decided to follow the deer trail. Covering his tracks would have been ideal, but the small cleats in his wading shoes left marks everywhere. He doubted anyone would be crazy enough to try and follow him in the dark.

The starlight provided just enough illumination for Harry to distinguish shades of blackness. Navigating mostly by feeling the worn rock and soil with his hands, Harry lost track of time and was surprised when he felt level ground in front of him. He rested and got a fresh bearing from the stars. He could no longer see below, but listened intently for sounds of pursuit. The night was silent except for the muted sound of a coyote in the distance. His rest period ended with a shivering. Time to get moving. Harry figured he had only a little ways to go until he reached the old railroad grade. Glancing at the North Star, he picked another star ahead of him as his guide. With a shuffling gait he moved on feeling his way amongst the rocks and sagebrush. He thought, "At least the rattlesnakes are all holed up."

Harry's speed picked up considerably when he reached the old railroad grade. The going was much easier, although Harry's feet were paying the price. He moved in a semi-automatic mode, his mind occupied with the mystery of why someone was trying to kill him. It had to be connected with his disappearing patient. His hospital surgical specimens had vanished. There must have been something special about the brain worms. Why would someone care so much about an intestinal parasite? He thought about the specimen tube the nurse had given him to show his patient. Where did he put it? He remembered having it in his shirt pocket when he went to the hospital so he could show the patient. What shirt was he wearing? Harry reflexively padded his shirt pockets and felt the small tube in the left shirt pocket. He lifted it out, but could see nothing in the darkness. He slipped it back into his shirt pocket. His thoughts were interrupted when his foot wedged between two rocks and he stumbled. His attention was drawn back to the present.

The problem with being in the present was that his feet hurt and he was chilled. It was only October, but the night was cold and he was still damp. Midnight had past before Harry arrived at the take-out. It was deserted except for the empty vehicles and trailers in the parking lot. Harry watched silently for several minutes listening. He took off his wading shoes to avoid any sound of his metal cleats, and walked on the gravel in his stocking feet. Each step seemingly contacted a different blister. Circling the parking area, Harry was like a large cat on the prowl. When he was satisfied there was no one else around, Harry moved amongst the parked vehicles. He found his Jeep and unlocked the door. The dim interior light seemed as bright as a spotlight.

Harry grabbed his cell phone and quietly closed the door. He walked away from his Jeep, putting a little distance between himself and the light. He wasn't sure who he should call. Would his wife even care? He decided to dial 911 and report the incident and his survival. The phone rang three times. Just as the call was answered, Harry was engulfed in the explosion of his Jeep. The force of the explosion threw him down, violently knocking the wind out of him. Heat from the explosive gases rolled over him. The dampness of his clothing saved him from bursting into flames, but his hair burned and curled. His face, protected from the heat by the gravel, was scraped and cut.

The force of the explosion was over as quickly as it started. Harry lay quietly trying to breathe for only a few seconds before his instincts had him crawling away gasping for air. Only after he reached the edge of the parking lot and crawled between two sagebrush clumps did Harry turn and look at his still burning Jeep. The only other car close to his was rolled onto its side and burning as well. Someone had definitely gone overboard in an attempt to kill him. Harry's breathing was still difficult and he wondered if he was developing a pneumothorax. His attention was drawn back to the fire when he detected movement. Someone was examining the wreckage.

Harry moved further away from the light keeping to shadows. He decided to retrieve his shoes and wait for the arrival of the fire trucks. As he worked his way back to where he had stashed his shoes, Harry was confronted by someone with a semiautomatic weapon. The man spoke with a Middle Eastern accent, "You are sure hard to kill. Keep your hands up and walk back to the parking area."

Harry started to do as he was told. He continued his turn though, and planted a kick into his assailant's midriff, and followed with a karate chop to his larynx. He felt the man's larynx crush, and knew his assailant would die quickly of suffocation. Harry grabbed his shoes and ran off to higher ground again keeping to the shadows. Only after he had put a half-mile between himself and his now dead attacker did Harry stop to listen. This moment of silence allowed the nerves from his feet access again to his brain. A more acute pain from the many ruptured blisters and desert thorns replaced the previous complaints of pain and discomfort. Harry had to sit and remove his stockings; he could feel blood saturating the stockings. Turning his socks inside out, Harry removed as many thorns and burrs as he could. Just pulling on the stockings reignited the pain. Harry heard a sound of movement. He could not tell if it was another attacker or a natural citizen of the desert. Pulling on his boots as quickly as he could, Harry moved further away; still no sign of emergency vehicles. Maybe there was no one around to have heard the explosion or seen the fire.

Harry debated making his way to the freeway to flag down a car, but figured that would be where his assailants would expect him to go. Instead, Harry decided to try and catch a ride on one of the many freight trains making their way through the Gorge. Taking a fresh bearing on the North Star, Harry headed north by northwest. He visualized the route of the railroad and decided to try and reach the tracks where they made a major curve around a cliff before entering a tunnel. The train would have to slow down. Harry tried looking at his watch with the miniature flashlight. But he discovered the watch had been smashed against a rock. He looked again at the North Star and realized the Big Dipper had rotated around and the pointer stars were now facing westward. It would be dawn in a couple of hours.

Finding the railroad tracks, Harry worked his way west until he was at the sharp turn. He now allowed himself some rest waiting for the next train. A little sleep would be welcome, but the pain in his feet kept him awake. After 30 or 40 minutes, Harry felt the ground begin to vibrate, indicating an approaching train. Harry stood up and his feet complained bitterly. Even as it slowed, the train would be doing better than 20 miles per hour. The brakes squealed as the train slowed. Light from the signal was enough to give definition to the individual cars. As the train sped past, Harry sprinted along the tracks, trying to keep up with the moving cars, without much success. Finally, he reached out and grabbed the ladder on one of the freight cars. Only his powerful grip allowed him to hold on. He was jerked off his feet and his shoulders felt as if they were being jerked out of their sockets. Pulling himself up the ladder until his feet perched safely on the bottom rung, Harry relaxed a little until the train entered the tunnel. Despite pulling himself tightly against the ladder, Harry still felt as if the tunnel wall was about to crush him. The tunnel blackness added to his anxiety, and he began sweating profusely despite the chill of the evening air. Harry knew he was in the tunnel for only a few minutes at most, but the time seemed to go on forever. Memories came back of the blackness of the solitary confinement pit cell he experienced as a POW, and with those memories a powerful anger began to build.

Dr. Harry Williams was a respected neurosurgeon with good academic credentials, who lived in a civilized society. The other Harry was a Navy SEAL who specialized in the most dangerous anti-terrorist Special Ops. This Harry was coming back to life and wanted to know who was trying to kill him and why. As the train rumbled towards Portland, Harry held on and thought. Using one hand to check the specimen tube in his pocket, Harry wanted to make sure it was still intact. He needed to talk to someone about why these brain worms were worth all the trouble someone was going through.

His thoughts of parasitology brought back fresh memories of Laura, the post-doc fellow who taught his class. He was so enamored with her that he really didn't learn as much as he should have. Harry was surprised that thoughts of Laura and their dramatic breakup were still so emotional. Her anti-war stand destroyed their budding relationship when she learned of his military experience. This rejection had hurt and the pain came back to the surface now. Harry wondered whether asking for her help would be worth the pain.

The cold was again becoming a factor. Wind pushed through his clothing and brought back the night chill. He climbed up and down the ladder repeatedly just to stay warm. It was a miserable choice between moving and generating some warmth or staying stationary to protect his painful feet. Climbing on top of the freight car would allow him to lie down, but making the transition from the side ladder to the top while the train was moving seemed to be more effort than it was worth. The train slowed and then stopped at a siding to allow another train to pass in the opposite direction. Harry took this opportunity to find an open boxcar and climb in. After just a few minutes, the train moved out and Harry sat in the corner, out of the wind but still chilled. He must have fallen asleep because he noticed the train had stopped. Stiffness in his joints became evident as Harry clumsily stood and climbed out of the boxcar. The rail yard was fairly busy despite the very early morning hour. Not knowing which way to walk, Harry moved perpendicular to the tracks and found himself penned in by a fence. He walked north until he came to the barrier at Powell Avenue. The Oregon mist was enough to gradually dampen him, allowing the cold to sink in even further.

He climbed the barrier and found himself in the parking lot of a striptease joint. He went to the dilapidated phone booth and called for a taxi. Harry sat on the curb until the taxi arrived. When Harry opened the door the driver remarked, "Must have been one helluva night, buddy."

Harry responded, "More action than I wanted. Take me to Northeast 23rd and Marlboro Road."

"I think you should show me some money first."

Harry dug his wallet out, extracted two wet $20 bills which he handed to the driver and said, "Turn up the heat."

Harry warmed up only a little during the short taxi ride. He got out of the taxi and walked the last few blocks to his house. Oregon dreariness was now an advantage because he was pretty much invisible. Walking past his home, Harry circled around behind the house. The metal cleats on his shoes made stealth more difficult, but Harry was not taking any more chances. He moved as carefully as a cat on the prowl. No one seemed to be watching his house, and Harry approached the back door. Before trying the door, Harry checked the phone line and found it severed. Someone had disarmed his security system. He wished now that he had put in a failsafe security system, but had ceded to his wife's wishes and installed a standard system which was now easily bypassed. Rather than using the door which might have been booby-trapped, Harry decided to enter through a window. Taking his shoes off, Harry climbed up on the back porch and removed the screen from his den window. The rough roofing on the porch made the blisters on his feet bleed again but he ignored the pain. Although the window was locked, it took Harry only a few minutes of jiggling to forcibly break the lock and slide the window open.

Harry's den was in shambles. Someone had searched the house thoroughly with no regard to being subtle. Tapping his shirt pocket to assure himself the specimen tube was still intact Harry thought, "These brain worms sure must be important to someone." This followed by the realization that his wife's decision to visit Minnesota was a real blessing...who knows what they would have done to her.

Harry wanted to take a long hot shower, but settled for clean dry clothes. He looked for his old, worn and comfortable hunting boots, but they were not in his fishing closet. Running shoes would have to do. Even though they felt too tight on his swollen feet, they were definitely better than the wading shoes. He opened his gun safe which was hidden in the attic, and took cash and his Lugar 9 mm pistol out of the safe. After loading the pistol, Harry strapped on the underarm holster beneath his Pendleton wool shirt. The tightness of the holster strap and the weight of his pistol provided some comfort. Closing the safe, Harry did a quick tour of the house. It had been thoroughly trashed. Grabbing a hat and his favorite Gore-Tex jacket, Harry departed the house via the window, which he closed before securing the screen again. A dog barked as he circled around his neighbor's house, but the fog kept him relatively invisible. He looked almost respectable with a hat covering his burned hair. Dropping his wading shoes and damaged clothing in a public trash bin, Harry again checked to make sure the specimen tube was safe in his shirt pocket.

Harry bypassed all his favorite breakfast places and went to one of the chain restaurants to eat. Ordering two large breakfasts, Harry easily ate both of them. He was now warm and fed and his thinking should have been more logical. Instead of proceeding to the police, he considered his options for getting to Seattle. If he rented a car, there would be a record of his credit card use. No way of getting on an airplane armed. The train seemed the best choice. Walking to the train station was out of the question because of his feet. A cab ride would be worth the risk of identification. Harry walked out of the restaurant and hailed a cab.

Chapter 4

Harry slept for most of the train ride. Having the weight of his pistol gave him a sense of security which allowed him to relax. With three hours of sleep Harry departed the train feeling almost rested. Making his way to the university campus, he was surprised at how much it had changed. The bioscience building was no more and he needed help in locating the parasitology department within the massive life sciences building. Seeing Laura's name listed as the department chairman made Harry nod his head as he thought, "She deserves it."

Harry entered the department section and was met by an efficient looking young lady who asked if she could help. Harry said, "I would like to meet with Dr. Laura Anderson."

"I'm sorry, but she's teaching a class and has meetings scheduled for the remainder of the day. I can schedule you an appointment for tomorrow."

Harry glanced around the room and noted the four offices which radiated from the waiting area. Laura's office appeared to be on the outside wall. Harry said, "I'm an old friend and thought I would stop in and say hello. Would you tell her Harry stopped by?"

"Anything else?"

"No. I'll stop by some other day."

Harry left the department, but took a good look at the door lock as he was leaving. He found the local coffee shop and returned with a large mug of coffee to watch the department. At noon the secretary carefully locked the doors and took her break. Harry nonchalantly disposed of his coffee and walked back to the department door. He used one of his credit cards to spring the latch and walked into the department. Closing the door behind him Harry opened Laura's office door and took a look around. It was much nicer than the office he remembered, but the general feeling of the room was the same: too much stuff in the space. Harry made himself comfortable behind the desk and waited. It was almost 5 o'clock before he heard Laura's voice and the door open.

Laura saw Harry sitting behind her desk and turned to the secretary, "I'll lockup. You can head on home."

"Harry Williams, it has been a long time. What do I owe this visit to?"

"I need some parasitology help."

"I think I heard that same line 12 years ago and look at the problems it caused."

Harry's expression turned dark for just a second before he replied, "The past is over. I do need your help."

"Last I heard, you were completing a neurosurgery program. Why would you need help with parasitology?"

"I removed some brain worms from a patient and someone is very upset about it. I would like to know why."

"Did something go wrong?"

"No, surgery went well. The next morning though my patient disappeared and the surgical specimen never made it to pathology."

"Tough to make a conspiracy out of a patient who skips out and a missing lab specimen."

Harry hesitated before telling Laura the next piece of the puzzle because he knew how she felt about violence. He simply said, "Someone tried to kill me."

It was Laura's turn to have her emotions color her expression. She replied, "I would think there were many from your previous career who would like to kill you. What makes you think it's related to your surgery?"

"I saw one of the guys. He was Middle Eastern, just like my patient."

The light had changed enough that Laura could see the bruising on Harry's face. She walked over and removed his baseball cap which revealed his singed hair. She gently touched the side of his bruised face. With tears in her eyes she said, "When are you going to quit playing cops and robbers? We live in a civilized world. What happened?"

"They placed a bomb in my car. It exploded when I tried to use my cell phone."

"You could have been killed!"

"I think that was their idea." Harry could see the emotions swirling across her face as she wrestled with the same issues that had torn them apart a decade ago. Laura refused to accept the fact that there were those in the world who could not be persuaded with love and flowers to live in peace.

"This doesn't make any sense. Why would somebody try to kill you because you helped a patient?"

"I think they knew I kept a couple of the brain worms."

"Why would you do that?"

"I thought my patient would enjoy seeing what had caused his problem."

"Do you still have them?"

Harry reached into his shirt pocket and removed the specimen tube which he handed to Laura. She used a hand lens to look at the small cysts floating in the fluid. After just a few seconds she said, "These are cysticerci of Taenia solium. They cause most cases of brain parasitism and are pretty common in developing countries. Nothing too unusual about them." Laura slipped further into her academic mode as she continued, "Man is the only final host for the pork tapeworm and pigs are the usual intermediate host. Pigs consume feed contaminated by human waste and eggs of the tapeworm. The eggs hatch and the larva move through the intestinal wall into the bloodstream and from there into the muscle tissue where they form the cysticerci. The cycle is completed when humans eat the pork which is not adequately cooked. The cysticerci are released by the stomach acids and develop into tapeworms to continue the cycle. If humans consume the eggs they become accidental intermediate hosts. As you have seen CNS involvement is common."

Harry asked, "For my patient to have contacted these brain worms he would have had to be around pigs?"

Laura answered her student's question, "The disease is endemic only in those areas with widespread small-scale hog farming."

"Then this makes no sense. My patient was religious and they consider pigs unclean."

Laura asked, "How do you know that?"

"They made me change his diet order to a pork free diet."

"I would suppose he had traveled to some area where the disease is endemic."

Harry had to agree academically with the logic of Laura's argument, but his instincts told him differently. He pushed the issue, "Is there any other test we could do to see if there's something unusual about these brain worms?"

Laura, shrugging her shoulder said, "We could perform electron microscopy on the head of the scolex and possibly do genetic analysis. Sub species differentiation is pretty minimal in Taenia solium, but some differences have been reported."

"Can we do it now?"

"I've had a long day. But if you buy me dinner, we can have a look."

"Dinner it is."

Harry followed Laura down the corridors to the lab section. Laura started working at a small machine about the size of an office copier. There was an absence of the usual lab paraphernalia with only an occasional sink and some glassware to signify they were actually in a lab. There were automated machines for everything. Laura used a small pipette to remove one of the brain worms. She placed it in the examination port and pushed some more buttons. A monitor became active and she used a joystick to control the electron microscope. As the scolex became visible, Laura zoomed in on the head region. The monitor filled with an image of an inside-out monster. Clearly visible were the four suckers and the crown of hooklets which were invaginated into the cyst.

Laura explained, "The outer wall is dissolved in the stomach and the scolex turns itself right side out. Sorta like peeling off a glove. The suckers and hooklets then attach to the intestinal wall where the tapeworm begins to grow."

Harry asked, "How did something this weird ever develop?"

Laura ignored the question as she zoomed the microscope onto the region of the hooklets. Harry knew the look of concentration he now saw on Laura's face. She was seeing something, and her mind was in the analytical mode. Harry was again amazed, seeing his former love as a hard-core scientist instead of the flighty peace advocate with no logical reasoning. Harry looked at the screen, but could not determine what was so interesting to Laura. She had zoomed the microscope so almost the entire screen was filled with hooklets. They looked like disorganized crab claws. Laura began mumbling to herself and sketching a drawing of the clawlike structures. Harry just waited.

Laura finally said, "This just isn't right. I'll be right back."

While Laura was gone, Harry unlaced his shoes and carefully took his socks off to inspect his feet. A few of the blisters had not yet broken. For the most part his feet looked like raw hamburger. He saw no sign of infection and was gently putting his socks back on when Laura returned. She saw the bleeding skin on his one heel as he was pulling the sock back on. "What happened to your feet? You need to see a doctor and get that taken care of."

"I got a few blisters trying to get away from whoever it was who blew up my car. I'll be OK."

"I think you need to see a doctor. That looks terrible."

"Laura, I'll be OK. Remember, I am a doctor now. And there is no sign of infection." Before Laura could go on, Harry asked, "What is bothering you about these brain worms?"

Laura started to demand that Harry go to the emergency room. But the look on his face made her realize that he was not going to listen. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "The shape of the hooklets seems odd."

Laura began paging through the collection of pictures she had brought. She found one demonstrating the hooklets and held it up so Harry could see the difference. The hooklets on his brain worm were definitely shorter and more disorganized than those in the picture. He asked, "What does this mean?"

"It would seem that your sample of Taenia solium is either a new sub species or a genetic freak. I would expect that since it survived the larva stage it is a new sub species."

"How do we tell for sure?"

"Genetic analysis."

"How do we get this genetic analysis performed?"

Laura was already pushing buttons to retrieve her specimen from the electron microscope. She placed the specimen under a standard microscope and used a miniature knife to slice a small piece of the worm off. She carefully transferred this speck of tissue to another miniature test tube. She placed this tube into an opening of another machine called a "DNA Analyzer" and started typing on the attached keyboard. After several minutes she said, "We'll know in 24 hours. Now you owe me dinner."

"That's it? You just put a piece of tissue in the machine and you get a genetic printout?"

"Not exactly. The tissue is digested and the DNA is replicated millions of times and the fragments are sequenced. The computer searches for patterns and compares them to known genomes. We have only a partial analysis of the Taenia solium, but it will be good enough for a simple comparison. Let's go eat; I'm starved."

Harry tried to control his limping because he knew it would give Laura another opportunity to hound him about going to an emergency room. He had been sitting long enough that his feet were able to complain about the agony he was causing. He knew he was only partially successful when Laura said, "I still think you need to go to the emergency room and quit being so macho."

Harry ignored the remark, but was glad to wedge his large frame into her small car and take the weight off his feet. It was a short drive to a nice seafood restaurant where the food was tasty and the wine flowed freely. It was almost like when they first met. The conversation was wide-ranging. However, they both avoided any discussion of politics or the military. After a second bottle of wine, the discussion moved to their personal lives. Laura admitted to having been too busy with her academic life to have established any other long-term relationships. When she asked Harry about his love life, his expression saddened and he related the argument he and his wife had been having regarding his work. When he explained that Angie felt surgery was his mistress with whom she couldn't compete, Laura was understanding. As Harry was explaining how Angie had gone back to stay with her folks, Laura could not help but smile to herself.

The waiter asked if they were interested in desert. Laura declined, but Harry said, "I would enjoy a dish of vanilla ice cream with some chocolate sauce."

Laura laughed and said, "I see you still have your sweet tooth."

"How do you expect me to maintain my svelte figure if I don't have a bit of ice cream occasionally. You don't think I got to be this size by eating tofu, do you?"

"I must admit you still look pretty fit. How do you stay in such good shape?"

"I still work out every morning and play racquetball a couple times a week. How about you? Do you still work out?"

Laura sat up a little straighter before replying, "Some. Not as much as I used to. I still cross-country ski most weekends when the weather is reasonable."

The evening was getting late and as Harry was finishing his ice cream, Laura asked, "Do you have a place to sleep tonight?"

"Haven't thought about it yet."

Laura hesitated only slightly before saying, "You're welcome to crash at my place."

"I have to sleep somewhere. So if you don't mind, I would appreciate it."

Harry was so busy cleaning the last traces of ice cream out of his bowl he did not notice the smile that crossed Laura's face. He paid cash for their meal and they walked back out to Laura's car.

Harry was feeling the effects of the wine and his lack of sleep and did not notice how quiet Laura had become. It was a 45 minute drive to her condo and Harry slept. He was awakened as the car stopped, and realized he had been asleep. He apologized for being poor company. Laura laughed nervously, and replied, "You needed your sleep."

They walked up one flight of stairs and Harry held the door while Laura entered and turned on the lights. She apologized for not having taken time to clean better, but she had not been expecting company. Harry just ignored the apology. The place was clean, and except for having too much stuff in it, appeared quite nice. He sat on the sofa which seemed a little small with Harry's large frame on it. Laura said, "There might be some brandy in the cupboard above the fridge. Make yourself at home while I change out of these work clothes."

"Thanks anyway. I think I've had plenty to drink already. Could I use your computer to check my e-mail?"

"It's in the spare bedroom. The switch is on the power strip to the right of the monitor. While you're doing that I'll take a quick shower."

Laura took her time getting freshened up and agonized over which nightgown to wear. She used some of the perfume she had left from what didn't seem so long ago anymore. When she walked into the spare bedroom, she instinctively clutched her robe tighter around her. Harry had been transformed. He was sitting rigidly erect in front of the computer. Muscles on the side of his neck and shoulders were so tense it looked like he was going to tear her desk apart. She timidly asked, "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry was quiet for several seconds before he replied in a cold, controlled voice, "They've kidnapped Angie."

Laura felt the same fear she had when Harry would have nightmares of his imprisonment and torture. It was the same fear and the violence from which it sprang which had destroyed their relationship before. She could think of nothing to say, and just stood in the doorway trembling. After what seemed a longtime, she asked, "Have you called the police?"

"No. They're demanding I meet with them. They promise Angie will be released unharmed if I cooperate."

"But they might hurt you!"

"I would expect you're right."

"Harry, what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure. If I can't contact my old friends for help, I guess I'll do what they're asking."

"You can't! It's too dangerous."

"Laura, I have no choice. I'll do what I need to do. I'm going to make a few phone calls and I want you to get ready to leave for a few days. They might have tracked me to you, and I can't have you staying here by yourself."

Laura went and began packing as she had been told. She was crying both from fear and from the memories of their failed relationship. Harry used a phonecard to dial his old friend Theodore who was living up in Alaska. Harry did not even bother to exchange pleasantries. He simply said, "I'm in trouble and need your help."

Theodore listened to the brief summary and asked, "We need a little time. Can you leave for Alaska in the morning?"

"Yes. But I can't leave Laura by herself. I may have been followed."

Harry could hear the clicking of Theodore's keyboard in the background and waited somewhat patiently for the next step. Theodore finally said, "I have Andrew booked on a flight from San Francisco, arriving in Seattle at 9 AM. You're booked on a flight through Anchorage at 7 AM under the name of Barry Williams. You need to change your ID. I'll pick you up at the airport."

Harry was rummaging through the desk drawers looking for a sharp knife and laundry pen when Laura came back. When he explained what he needed, Laura without saying anything went to the kitchen and came back with a small knife and laundry pen. Harry tested the knife and was going to ask if she had a sharpener, but decided to make do with what he had. He carefully shaved portions of the "H" on his driver's license, then used the laundry pen to transform it to a "B". He was now Barry Williams.

Laurel finally asked, "What are we going to do?"

"We have a room at the airport for tonight. I leave early in the morning and an old friend is arriving at 9 AM to protect you. I want you to stay in the room until he arrives."

"But I have a class to teach at 10."

"You'll have to be a little late. I want you to do everything Andrew says without any arguing."

"How will I find him?"

Harry's expression softened as he said, "Andrew has a soft Southern drawl and when he knocks on the door he will address you as ma'am. He walks with a definite limp."

Laura asked, "He has something wrong with his legs?"

"He doesn't have any. When we were captured, he tried to escape and they tortured him by breaking both legs. Before we were rescued, infection set in and they needed to amputate both lower legs."

Laura's face went white as she contemplated the brutality. She finally asked, "And this man without legs can protect me? How does he walk?"

Harry actually laughed and his face had a shadow of genuine joy as he said, "Andrew without legs is still one of the most capable warriors we have. He gets around on his prosthetic legs pretty well. If anyone can protect you, Andrew can. But you must do as he says."

Before Laura could say anything else, Harry handed her a sheet of paper with a telephone number and an e-mail address. He said, "I need you to send the results of the genetic testing to this e-mail address. I'll be at this telephone number if you need to reach me."

As Harry handed her the paper, she saw the holster under his arm. "You're carrying a gun?"

Harry at first didn't seem to know how to respond. Finally, he said, "Yes. I'm going to leave it with you until Andrew arrives."

"But I hate guns."

Harry reached over and held her gently by both shoulders and said softly, "I know this is part of life you despise and deny, but for just a couple of hours I want you to be able to defend yourself. Once Andrew gets here, he'll protect you and you won't have to worry about the gun anymore. Can you handle this?"

Laura simply nodded her head. Harry gave her a brief hug and said, "We had better get going. I'll drive."

Harry followed Laura's directions as they headed toward the airport. He seemed to spend as much time looking in his rearview mirror as he did looking forward. Laura was too upset to ask him if something else was wrong. They were headed south on I-5 in the center lane when Harry turned sharply in front of a double semi and took an exit ramp. The truck sounded its horned and Laura screamed. Harry took the next right, followed by another right, then parked the car and turned off the lights.

Laura said, "What are you doing? You almost killed us!"

"I think we were being followed. We'll just sit here for a bit. Do you know where we are?"

"I'm either home in my bed having a terrible nightmare, or I'm in an alternate universe because this can't be happening!"

Harry laughed and the tension seemed to drain down a bit as he said, "I like the thought of the alternate universe. It is a bit of a stretch from your normal life, isn't it?" Not waiting for her to answer, he continued, "I'm truly sorry to have you involved in this, but I did need your help. Everything should settle down by morning."

Harry started up the car and took the next right, hoping to get back on the freeway. They ended up on a one-way which crossed under the freeway without access. Harry asked Laura for advice, but she was as lost as he was. He tried a series of left turns, but ended up paralleling the freeway, headed in the wrong direction. When he finally found an entrance ramp, they were headed north toward Canada. He made light of the situation by saying, "If someone was following us, think how lost they must be."

Laura finally recognized an exit. They took it and finally got turned around headed back toward the airport. When they arrived at the hotel, Harry parked the car and made Laura wait while he scanned the area. He got out and opened her door, easily lifting her luggage. As they were walking to the door he said, "Just think how exciting this would have been 12 years ago."

Laura was so upset she just ignored the remark. They checked into the hotel and made their way to the room on the third floor. She noticed Harry would look around the corner with his hand under his shirt before moving forward. When they entered the room the first thing Harry did was move one of the beds against the door. By this time Laura was too emotionally spent and tired to worry about his paranoia. When Harry suggested she should get some rest she simply nodded and prepared for bed. It would have been nice to take comfort in Harry's arms, but he appeared already asleep - fully clothed with the Luger resting on his chest in the ready position. She climbed into bed very tired, but knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. The sound of Harry's gentle snoring gradually relaxed her though, and she fell asleep.

She was awakened by a gentle shaking of her shoulder and, "Laura, it's time to get up." It took a few seconds for her to orient herself. But when Harry handed her the gun, she was instantly awake. He explained how the safety worked on the gun and she tried to listen. But when she took the gun her hands were shaking. Harry helped prop her up in the bed facing the door and said, "Don't let anyone in until Andrew gets here. If someone tries to force the door just shoot in their direction and they'll leave. You are going to be OK, and life will return to normal in a couple days."

Laura wanted to say something, but it was all she could do to hold back her tears. She just nodded and then Harry was gone, leaving her facing the door with a gun. She stared at the weapon in her hands trying to remember what Harry had said. She glanced at the clock. It was 6:00 AM. Three hours. She could handle three hours. Every time she heard a noise or another door open, her anxiety would increase. When someone knocked on the door and announced "Room service" Laura responded, "Wrong room. I didn't order room service."

The voice responded, "Sorry; wrong floor."

Laura glanced at the clock: 8:45. If Harry's friend was supposed to arrive at 9:00 AM he would still have to make his way to the hotel which would take a half-hour. Forty-five minutes to go. She could make it. The digital clock seemed to advance the minutes much too slowly. Surely time was not going this slow. The clock read 9:12 when the knock came again. She ignored it.

A voice on the other side of the door said, "Room service."

"I didn't order room service."

Somebody was trying her door. She heard noises like somebody was trying different keys in the lock. The lock clicked open and the door was opened to the extent of the safety chain. Laura's hands were shaking as she raised Harry's pistol and pointed it at the door. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she pulled the trigger nothing happened. She looked down at the pistol and remembered Harry had said something about pushing a safety. She started pushing things, trying to remember exactly what she should be doing. A clip of bullets fell out of the handle as she was trying to turn the safety off. She looked up and saw someone using a wire cutter on the chain. She tried pushing the clip back into the gun, but her hands were shaking so badly it would not go in.

Hearing a thump, Laura looked up and saw the hand with a wire cutter sliding down the gap in the door. This was followed by, "Miss Laura, this is Andrew. Harry's friend. Would you please undo the door?"

Laura scrambled out of bed still holding the pistol and the clip of ammunition. She stood to the side because of the hand and arm that were sticking in the room. She dropped the pistol and ammunition to work on the chain, but there was too much tension and she was unable to release it. In a trembling voice she asked Andrew if he could pull his arm back through the door. He replied, "Ma'am if you hold the door open as much as you can, I'll try.

Laura pulled against the security chain and the hand and arm slowly slid out of the door opening. She closed the door and released the security chain. When she opened the door, she saw a small man holding a larger man under the arms. He said, "If you please, I think we should bring our friend in."

Laura stood back as Andrew dragged the unconscious man into the room. He positioned the man in the chair by the desk and used sheets to tie him up. When he was finished, he apologized for almost being late.

Laura asked in a voice surprisingly steady, "What did this man want? And what did you do to him?"

Before replying, Andrew picked up the pistol and ammunition clip Laura had dropped. He inserted the clip expertly into the pistol and put it in his coat pocket. He then said, "I would expect this gentleman meant you harm. Why didn't you use the gun?"

"I tried, but I forgot how to work the safety, and when I pushed a button those bullet things fell out. I'm sure glad you're here and I would like to leave this place."

"Ma'am, I think that is a good idea. While you are getting ready I'll make a few phone calls and have this gentleman taken care of."

Laura was dressed and ready to go in just a few minutes. Andrew picked up her small suitcase in one hand and his cane in the other. He held the door open for her. As Laura was walking through the door she glanced back again at the intruder. Andrew interpreted her look and said, "The FBI will be here shortly and I expect they will have some interesting questions for our new friend here. It would be best if we were gone before they arrive."

They made their way down the elevator and were exiting the lobby when unmarked cars with sirens began arriving. Laura started walking to her car but Andrew said, "Considering what they did to Harry's car, it may be best if we use the rental car that's waiting for us."

Andrew offered to drive and Laura was more than willing to let him. When they arrived at the campus, there were security cars everywhere around her building. She was required to show her ID and had to vouch for Andrew just to get in the building. Her department seemed to be filled with campus security people and police. When she walked into her office, the reason was obvious. It had been ransacked and was a disaster. The security people were asking her lots of questions, but she had trouble focusing. She said, "What about the labs?"

"Your parasitology lab was broken into and some of the equipment appears damaged."

The police were asking questions too, but Laura ignored them and started walking to the lab. She could not remember where they had left Harry's brain worms. Did he take them when they left the lab? She remembered using the optical microscope to obtain her sample for the DNA analysis but could not picture what she had done with the specimen afterwards. It probably didn't matter because all of the specimen racks and containers had been taken. Someone had plundered her lab completely. The DNA analyzer had been damaged and they had partially dismantled the unit. Her lab technician was examining it and she asked him what had been damaged.

He said, "They removed the specimen holding unit and the data drive. I don't know what was in there, but it's gone now."

Laura said, "It was an unusual specimen of Taenia solium I was analyzing for an old friend. Is all the data lost?"

"They took the entire data processing subunit." The tech looked thoughtful for a minute and plugged the machine back in. All kinds of red warning lights came on, but he scrolled down through the menu screen to the clock. It said 05:12. "Well, we know what time they were here now, and we may be able to recover some of the data if the machine backed up to the server at 4:00 AM as it was supposed to."

They were interrupted by a police officer who wanted to know what they were talking about. Andrew spoke up for the first time. "It would seem that the vandals were some animal right's nuts who thought we were doing animal experiments. The damage will take a while to sort out, and we will file a complete report as soon as we figure out how much damage we have. May I have your card so I know whom to contact?"

The cop was happy to have someone assume leadership and accepted Andrew's suggestion without even asking who he was. Andrew accepted the officer's card and thanked him for the help. As soon as the cop left, Andrew said to Laura and the tech, "We need to download that data file and see if there is anything on it."

Laura immediately brightened; this was something she could handle. She sat at one of the computers and started punching passwords into the keyboard. Soon she was looking at the backup data files and after a few minutes said, "I've got it. Not a lot of data, but better than nothing."

The tech was looking over her shoulder and said, "Looks like you have data on the primary fragments, but none on the replications. We should be able to tease a partial analysis out of this."

Laura gave him her seat and the young man began typing rapidly. He looked up and asked what comparison Laura wanted. She told him to use Taenia solium.

Andrew watched for a while before asking how long the analysis would take. When the tech said he would have an initial report in an hour or so, Andrew suggested they get a bite to eat. Laura looked at the tech who said, "Go ahead, I'll get this done for you."

They went to the faculty dining room and went through the cafeteria line. Laura chose some fruit and cottage cheese while Andrew filled his tray with enough food for 2 or 3 people. They sat in the corner by themselves and Andrew proceeded to devour his food. When he was finished, Laura commented, "You eat as much as Harry."

Andrew laughed an easy laugh and said, "I keep hoping I'll grow up like Harry."

This Andrew was an easy man to like. Laura said, "Harry told me about your legs. I have trouble visualizing such brutality in our civilized world."

"It was our job to make the world seem civilized. I was pretty lucky they saved the rough stuff for Harry. The good news was we were rescued... I think we should be getting back and check on the data analysis."

They walked back in relative silence and Laura tried to imagine what Harry must have gone through. No wonder he had nightmares. They arrived about the time the tech was performing crosschecks. The computer simulation showed a good general correlation with the known genome of the pork tapeworm, except for a few glaring discrepancies. The fragments were partial and they had no way of crosschecking their results. However, it appeared as if 4 to 6 of the genes were not natural to the parasite. Laura sat at the computer and used a program to compare the foreign fragments to known genes. The computer worked for only a moment before possible genes were listed. The matches were with human genes.

Andrew asked, "Could these genes be contamination?"

Laura responded, "Possible, but I was pretty careful with the specimen. I wish we still had some material to work with."

"Someone is intent on making sure you don't."

The tech asked, "What are you talking about? Is this why someone broke in? Because of a tapeworm?"

Andrew answered, "This parasite is important to someone. We don't know who or why. I want you to keep this information quiet until we know more. Is there any way of telling what these human genes do?"

Laura began typing on the computer and studied the results before saying, "Assuming the match is correct, most of the genes are involved in neuro-endocrine function, but we don't have enough data to be certain."

"And no way of getting more data." Andrew continued, "We had better send what we have up to Harry. He and Theodore may be able to make sense out of it."

Chapter 5

Harry arrived at the SeaTac airport about an hour before his flight departure. Using one of the electronic check-in kiosks, Harry punched in the reservation code Theodore had given him. Taking the ticket the machine spit out, he proceeded to the security line check-in. The agent checking IDs and tickets looked briefly at Harry's modified ID and ticket. Harry was practicing the anxiety control methods he had learned long ago. The agent commented, "I bet it's already cold up there in Nome."

Harry smiled, as he took the ticket and ID that was offered to him saying, "It's always cold up there." Taking off his shoes, Harry hoped the blood wasn't too visible on his socks. He walked through the metal detector and was relieved when the metal detector remained silent and he wasn't frisked. He worked hard to maintain the look of bored innocence and controlled his grimacing as he put his shoes back on his sore feet. It was only as he was walking towards his gate did he look again at his ticket. He had assumed Theodore lived in the Anchorage area. What was he doing in Nome? He wasn't real certain where Nome was, but remembered it was the closest American town to Russia. It would be like Theodore to live on the edge. Harry thought about calling Laura but decided not to draw any more attention to her than needed.

He sat in the corner of the waiting area and nonchalantly surveyed all those who entered the area. The boarding process began and Harry checked his seat assignment. His seat was toward the back and was a middle seat. He didn't fit well in even the larger first-class seats; it was going to be a long ride. Harry waited until almost everyone had boarded, then made his way to the final check-in. He handed his ticket to the agent and had to groan when she said, "Would you step over there, sir, for a random screening?" Harry did as he was told and produced his ID for the security agent. This agent looked much closer at the ID, but still missed Harry's impromptu change. He again took his shoes off and stood with his arms outstretched as the agent used his wand to check for metal. This was followed by a manual pat down. Harry's shoes were swiped and checked for explosives. Harry glanced at his feet. The old dry blood from his blisters was obvious to him, but the agent didn't seem to notice.

The boarding process was complete except for Harry. The agent seemed to take forever doing the explosive test and Harry worried that some of the explosive from his car's destruction had contaminated his feet. He tried to suppress his relief when the agent told them it was okay to put his shoes on and board the airplane. Harry quickly tied his shoes and entered the walkway to the airplane. He wished he had packed a bag of something so that he had luggage to check. They may not be profiling, but they were certainly careful with those without luggage.

Harry ducked his head to enter the airplane and stayed stooped over as he worked his way to the back of airplane. The airplane was almost full. Only a few center seats were available. His seat was between a burly man almost as wide as he was and a young mother with an infant on her lap.

When Harry finally got off the airplane in Anchorage, he didn't notice the pain in his feet because he was so stiff and sore from the cramped seating. He stretched and walked for most of the hour he had, before boarding the airplane to Nome. He was surprised when they entered the airplane from the rear. All of the freight was loaded forward and the passengers sat in the rear with a bulkhead separating them from the freight containers. At least this flight was somewhat less full so Harry had a little room to stretch out. The dozen or so passengers all looked like they belonged on the flight, except for Harry. His lightweight jacket and running shoes were definitely out of place amongst the parkas and boots. Harry finally got a little sleep. However, images of Angie being tortured kept entering his thoughts and dreams.

When Harry deplaned in Nome, he had to walk across the cold tamarack to the terminal building. Once inside, he nonchalantly scanned the small building looking for possible threats. Theodore wasn't to be seen, so Harry took a seat along the outside wall and waited. He pretended to read a newspaper while he watched. Almost everyone from the flight had already departed when a nondescript man who had been sitting on the far end of the small terminal rose and walked over to him. Harry had to smile because his friend had escaped even his notice. Theodore still had his ability to remain invisible. The old friends were reunited with a simple handshake.

Harry followed Theodore out of the building to a beat up looking pickup truck. Once in the truck Theodore said, "It would appear you need some clothing. Not many people up here are your size, though. We'll stop at the Trading Post and see what they have."

They rode in silence for the short trip in to town from the airport. They stopped in front of one of the touristy places on Front Street. There was a little snow, but the covered boardwalk was clear. The store was filled with overpriced souvenir clothing and trinkets. They did have a rack of fur-lined parkas, one of which almost fit Harry. They did a little better on the boots only because they were so oversized to allow for thick felt liners. The only pants they could find were some XXL commercial fishing rain pants. Theodore found a pair of chopper mitts that covered Harry's huge hands and his ensemble was complete. A bit unusual, but complete. Theodore paid for the supplies and they headed out of town. Once they were south of town, Theodore relaxed and began talking. He explained how his beat up old truck was actually a high-performance ATV hidden under an old truck body so it would appear natural in Nome. Harry finally interrupted to ask how Theodore had ended up in Nome.

"When our outfit was dissolved, they offered me an intelligence position. I accepted with the provision that I could live where I wanted. We bargained a bit about security and then I chose the most distant place from Washington D.C. I could find. Hence, Nome. Been here ever since and have no intention of leaving."

The discussion turned to the present crisis. Theodore said, "Seems the FBI is now looking for you. Apparently some size 14 footprints were found outside your in-laws house. Somehow they found out you wore size 14."

Harry was thoughtful for a minute before responding, "I was wondering what happened to my hiking boots. They were missing when I returned to my house. Whoever is behind this plans well."

They continued down the Sound, paralleling the beach until Harry finally asked, "How far out of town do you live?"

"I live in the center of town. Just not this town. I found this great place in an old mining town called Council. It's pretty much a ghost town, but meets my needs perfectly. I share the town with an old miner and a couple Native families. The isolation gives me the security I need."

They drove past an abandoned collection of old railroad cars. Before Harry could ask, Theodore explained, "The world's shortest railroad. It was some kind of financial scam back when the gold mines were booming. They laid just enough track to get the railcars unloaded from the barge and then abandoned the project. The investors took it in the shorts."

Harry could see the cloud bank approaching from the south and mentioned the change in weather. Theodore said, "The first major snowstorm is headed our way. Winter comes early up here. It should blow through in 24 hours and we can get you back on your way."

Harry was wondering if coming all the way to the ends of the country made any sense. Maybe he should have gone to the police. It had been almost 18 hours since he saw the e-mail. Twenty-four hours more before he could leave. Angie had to be horribly worried. Those causing this crisis seemed to be pretty ruthless. Lots of things could go wrong in 48 hours. If his enemies were religious fanatics, would they torture women? His thoughts mingled with the view of a low mountain range ahead. The slopes still held a reddish color from the blueberry and cranberry bushes. He had not seen a single tree since arriving. Angie would like the colors.

Harry could really sense the power of the truck as they started the uphill climb. Leave it to Theodore to have the highest tech stuff and still stay almost invisible. The vista from the top was awesome, and Harry's troubles and anxieties receded somewhat. Theodore pointed to a large stone and said, "I have a magnetometer hidden in that stone. It alerts me to any traffic on the road."

Harry watched his friend fiddle with an electronic device. He knew better than to ask for an explanation which would have been far more technical than he had any hope of comprehending. Afterward, Theodore relaxed noticeably and said, "Not been any traffic. I don't feel secure until I know nobody has been bothering anything. Fishing season is a bit of a hassle because of the occasional fishermen making his way down to the Fish River."

They had another hour of driving during which Theodore discussed his findings. There had been a significant increase in intercepted traffic regarding a religious event amongst suspected terrorist sympathizers. He had no way of knowing whether Harry's troubles were connected, but the Middle East background suggested a link. There were no leads on Harry's wife, and the kidnapping was not announced until this morning. No motive or demands had been made except for the e-mail Harry had received.

As they descended into the river valley, Harry realized there were trees. Short stunted trees, but real trees nonetheless. Theodore explained how the lower elevation and protection from the storms allowed the permafrost to melt enough for trees to take hold. The town wasn't much, several buildings grouped together. They turned into a shed facing away from the prevailing wind. The adjacent house looked like a heavy snow would be enough to collapse it. Theodore held open the door and Harry entered a very modern looking kitchen. The house had obviously been rebuilt from the inside out leaving the dilapidated exterior as a camouflage. The inside was warm and well lighted but the decorations were almost nonexistent. Harry asked about the source of electricity and Theodore went on a long, complicated exposition about his multiple energy sources with multiple redundancies.

Harry finally interrupted him to ask if they had received any information from Laura. Theodore glanced at his computer screen and saw the indicator flashing. He sat down and looked into a small camera device. The screen became active, then displayed, "Retinal scan complete and verified." Theodore began typing and soon a message from Laura and Andrew appeared. Harry was relieved to know Laura was doing OK and under Andrew's protection. The destruction of the lab reinforced his opinion about the brain worm's importance. Why someone would insert human genes into a parasite remained incomprehensible. Theodore began manipulating the data file they had received and isolated the DNA sections that appeared to have been inserted into the genome. He used a secondary program to begin cross-referencing the data. Laura had already referenced the sequences to the known genetic codes. Theodore was referencing them to published data worldwide. If they were important, someone would have written about them.

Harry watched Theodore work and realized there was not actually a computer in the room. He interrupted Theodore to ask where the computer was and was told to be patient. After several moments of programming Theodore got up and said, "I'll show you now."

Theodore opened the closet and punched in a code on the keypad. The back wall of the closet slid open and a stairway descending into darkness was visible. As Theodore stepped forward, the lights came on. As they climbed down the stairway, Theodore explained how the house was built on top of a mineshaft. The mineshaft opened up into a fairly large room which had been lined with insulating materials and support structures. There was high-tech equipment everywhere. Theodore explained in great detail how he had built his own mini supercomputer using hundreds of parallel processors. Harry realized that this was indeed Nirvana for Theodore. No distractions -just his equipment. Harry was still puzzled about how he could connect to the Internet. After Theodore began explaining how he used the cover of the water tank as a specialized satellite dish to connect with the military intelligence satellite system, Harry realized he should not have asked. After listening to several minutes of discourse regarding frequency shifts, digital filtering techniques and encryption, Harry finally held up his hands and said, "I believe you."

They returned to Theodore's study where results were scrolling across the screen. Theodore watched the screen for several minutes before saying, "This is going to take awhile. Why don't you sack out for a bit. Bedroom is past the head on the left."

Harry thought it was a good idea. With a simple "OK" he started for the bedroom. He turned and asked Theodore, "Okay if I take a quick shower?"

"Good idea. Clean towels in the cabinet on the left."

The shower felt wonderful, but cleaning his feet created some fresh bleeding. He took the time to put a few Band-Aids on the worst areas. Harry washed his socks out the best he could and draped them across the heating register. He crawled under Theodore's heavy quilt. The next thing he knew Theodore was waking him up saying, "Harry, you had better get up."

"What time is it?"

"About 2200. Somebody is headed our way."

Harry was up and pulling on his clothes immediately. It took him a minute to remember where he had left his socks because his mind was already in the planning state. He asked Theodore, "What do you have for armament?"

"Small arms only. They wouldn't let me have any of the heavier stuff."

"How long before they get here?"

"They were going pretty slow past my magnetometer. The snow must have slowed them way down. We should have 30 minutes anyway."

Harry asked, "Any way to warn your neighbors?"

"Already have."

Harry began looking through the small stock of weapons in Theodore's closet. He chose a 9 mm Lugar and a somewhat modified M14 automatic rifle. Both weapons were meticulously clean and ready. Theodore was dressing in his outdoor clothes and Harry followed suit. Theodore said, "I would like to keep them away from my house, but we need to make sure their visit isn't benign. I'll situate myself below the hill and take out one of their tires using the silencer. If they act innocent, I'll make my way back to the house and wait for them to arrive. We can fix the tire later and pretend innocence."

"Where do you want me?"

"If they mean us harm, they'll probably move to the south and enter the cluster of houses in the center. I would like you positioned between here and the cluster of old buildings." Theodore handed him a miniature headset and night vision goggles. "The night vision goggles won't work too well because of the snow, but they're better than nothing. The headset is digitally encrypted."

They finished dressing. Before leaving the building, Theodore secured his computer and turned off all visible lights. When they exited the door, Theodore not only locked it, but activated some other mechanism. Harry did not even ask what it was, but believed Theodore when he was told, "Don't try to open the door unless I've disarmed it first."

The world was a swirling mix of gray. Without any city lights and the clouds overhead, the darkness was surprisingly complete. The heavy snow just added to the opacity. The night vision goggles worked only at close range. Harry moved off in the direction Theodore had indicated, but had traveled only a few feet before he had to turn and orient himself. Even with the night vision goggles the other houses were invisible. His headset became active and Theodore said, "You need to move another hundred yards south. I will have the headset produce a tone when you're moving south. The built-in GPS is pretty accurate and I can know your position within a few feet."

Harry began moving again and the tone in his ear became constant as he headed south. When he had traveled what he felt was 100 yards he heard Theodore say, "There is an old piece of equipment just to your left. Not much shelter, but a good vantage point."

Harry positioned himself as directed and surveyed the surrounding area. He could barely make out the old houses ahead of him. The ground was flat and open between his position and the houses. He waited. His feet no longer hurt because the cold was already penetrating his boots. He wished they had found a pair big enough to have left the liners in. He wanted to stomp his feet to warm them. Instead, he concentrated on a slow steady scan of the area in front of him. Surely 30 minutes had already passed. He continued his scan of the area and thought he saw some movement at the edge of his visual field. He stared back towards the left and waited. There was definitely movement. He wasn't sure if it was a man or dog, but something was moving towards him. Harry whispered into his headset, "Movement headed my way."

"They must have left the vehicle before the hill. I'm going to circle around. Take out your target quietly if possible."

Harry watched the movement come gradually closer. It was definitely a man crouched low and moving with stealth. Harry eased himself further behind one of the support columns and waited. His target was now clearly visible as a man who had been trained in carrying a weapon. Time seemed to stand still. Harry's feet no longer bothered him. Harry had removed his heavy mittens and held his rifle at the ready. His target instinctively moved towards the structure for cover. Harry waited until the man was opposite his hiding site and stepped out behind him. Harry swiveled the rifle around and used the butt to strike a snap hit to the man's skull where it connected to his neck. The man dropped instantly and silently.

Harry felt the man's neck. His pulse remained stable. He pulled the laces out of the intruder's boots and used them to secure his hands and feet. He then called Theodore on his headset. "Target neutralized."

Theodore was breathing hard when he answered, "Infrared suggest three individuals. Tracks separate. One set is headed toward the Native families. Keep moving south and see if you can intercept. I'll follow the third set."

Harry tried to orient himself visually, but the heavy snowfall obliterated everything. He followed the GPS tone in his headset and moved south. He again was like a big cat on the hunt. His first target had no night vision goggles. Hopefully his next target was also limited. The houses were much closer now and he could see the heat signatures of the two occupied houses without difficulty. A slight glow was visible in the snow and Harry recognized the recent footprints. Like a cougar tracking a deer, Harry followed his quarry. The tracks rounded the corner of the house and Harry deflected his course to the side for a better approach. On the far side, he saw someone peering into a window.

A muffled rifle shot sounded out, and his target turned suddenly when the lights came on in the house. The light almost blinded Harry and he had to push off his night vision goggles. The movement attracted his target's attention. Harry saw the rifle pointed toward him. Without waiting, Harry fired his.

The door opened and Harry found himself looking into two hunting rifles. A fairly small man and woman were holding the guns on Harry. They looked very confident in their use. Harry raised his arms. The man asked, "You Theodore's friend?"

"I'm Harry, Theodore's friend."

The man glanced at the fallen attacker and recognized death before asking, "Who was this man?"

"Someone sent to harm Theodore and myself. There is still one other in town."

"How can we help?"

Harry did not feel he could risk the lives of these innocent friends. He said, "Stay secure in your house. I'll try and find Theodore."

Before the conversation could continue, a stranger appeared from the dark holding a gun against Theodore's head. He said in accented English, "Drop your guns or your friend dies."

Harry thought about trying to take out the attacker, but he seemed too competent. Theodore would almost certainly not survive the attempt. Harry lowered his gun and set it on the freshly fallen snow. Theodore's friends followed Harry's lead. The attacker spoke Arabic into a handheld radio and another stranger stepped forward. The second man said in better English, "You would be Dr. Harry Williams. You are a difficult man to contain. You are to return with us or be eliminated. If you choose to cooperate, your wife will be safe."

"What do you want of me?"

"Your cooperation and the computer files which were transmitted to you."

"How do I know my wife is safe?"

"We are sacred warriors and we speak in the name of our God. It is as I say."

Theodore spoke up and asked, "You speak for Dr. Ahmad then?"

The two attackers spoke to each other in Arabic and Harry looked at his friend who had obviously pushed a significant button. Theodore was up to something, but he didn't have the foggiest idea what. After the Arabic discussion became less heated, the man with better English said, "It would seem the damage has been worse than expected and both of you will return with us. You will give us access to your computer."

Theodore asked, "If I refuse?"

"Then everyone and everything here will be destroyed."

Theodore responded, "At my house."

"Take us there now."

Theodore led them back towards his house. As they passed by the machinery Harry had used as cover, they stumbled over the still unconscious attacker Harry had neutralized. The attacker with the good English bent over the man and felt for a pulse. He told Harry, "Bring my companion."

Harry picked up the attacker and carried him over his shoulder. They approached the decrepit looking house and the junior attacker tried the door which was locked. Theodore was told to unlock the door and then step back. He did is he was told and as the attacker opened the door, Theodore covered his face. A blast of pepper spray greeted them. The intruder screamed. Harry turned toward the other attacker who had already crouched into an attack position, "Nobody move or you will all die! What happened?"

Theodore responded, "He didn't let me disarm the bear repellent. It's just pepper spray."

"What bear repellent?"

"I've been having trouble with a grizzly bear bothering my place, so I set up the spray to keep the bears away."

"You really have bears?"

"It's been a big problem lately."

The attacker's anxiety increased significantly. Not only did he have his four prisoners to worry about, he also had bears to worry about. Four trained men were sent to capture one man. Now he was facing four prisoners in a snowstorm with one sacred soldier dead and two disabled. Better to even the odds and reduce the number of prisoners. He decided to take out everyone but Harry. Moving to the edge of the small porch, he ordered the three to stand aside. He had no sooner given the order when he heard a noise behind him. He turned only slightly, but it was enough of a distraction so he didn't see Sven. Sven stepped around the corner and struck the attacker with a crowbar across the skull. The crowbar was more than effective and the attacker crumpled to the ground.

Theodore and Harry quickly finished subduing the attacker who was suffering from the pepper spray. Theodore said, "Sven, I owe you one. Sure glad you left your mine and lent a hand."

"Heard the shots. Figured claim jumpers. Best be getting back to work."

Sven disappeared and Harry said, "Doesn't say much, does he?"

Theodore replied, "Most he's said in the past six months. Sven pretty much keeps to himself. Let's get inside."

It wasn't until Harry began warming that he realized how cold his feet were. He removed the boots and began massaging his feet. Theodore was talking to the Eskimo man about the possible location of a car. After a few minutes discussion, Theodore gave him a headset with the built-in GPS unit and sent him to look for the vehicle. Theodore secured the door behind him. Harry turned his attention to the injured attackers. The man with the pepper spray was pretty miserable, but would recover fully. The attacker he had knocked unconscious seemed to be recovering slowly. The crowbar, however, had been a bit too effective. As he ran his fingers along the skull, he noted an evident depression. Both pupils were equal and responded to light, but he was worried about possible brain injury.

Harry said, "This one is going to need medical attention."

Theodore responded, "Not much hope for that until the storm lets up. Supposed to clear a bit in about 12 hours."

The Eskimo woman, Mary, walked out of the kitchen with a pot of tea. "Enough excitement already. Time for some tea."

Harry accepted the tea and watched Theodore work at his computer console. He interrupted enough to ask, "What was your comment about a Doctor Ahmad?"

"He's a Ph.D. type who was recently put on the watch list by Homeland Security. Seems he attends one of the mosques where the religious teacher's viewpoint is suspect. His research involves neurotransmitters in parasites. I'm doing a further search now."

Harry accepted the limited explanation and went to check on their attackers who were now prisoners. The one he had taken out was starting to regain consciousness and would recover. The guy who spoke good English wasn't doing as well. His left pupil seemed to be getting sluggish. He needed a CAT scan. But they were almost 500 miles from the nearest unit and stuck in a snowstorm. He interrupted Theodore again by asking if he had any steroids.

"I don't, but I bet Mary does. She's the village health aide."

Mary walked out of the kitchen when she heard her name. Harry asked her about steroids and she said, "I have Prednisone and Decadron."

Harry said, "Decadron would be better. Is it injectable?"

"The prednisone is injectable for bee stings, but I only have Decadron pills."

Harry considered how he would get the Decadron into his enemy who was now his patient and decided the prednisone injectable would have to do. He asked her to get the medicine, but Theodore objected. "Until we're sure there's no more of them around, you'll have to wait."

Harry the physician wanted to argue, even though Harry the warrior knew Theodore was correct. The physician would have to wait. He spent his time fussing over his patient. The pupil seemed to be getting even more sluggish. His reflexes were still intact otherwise. There was no excessive bulging of the skull at the point of contact with the crowbar, and he was worried about a countercoup injury. When Mary asked why he kept checking the man's eyes, Harry explained, "When the head is struck, the brain bounces around inside the skull. Many times it is the bounce back from the opposite side that causes the blood vessels connecting the skull and the brain to tear. Blood then builds up in the space between the brain and the skull, which then pushes the brainstem down and compresses the nerves. If the pressure gets too high, the brainstem will herniate out of the skull base, and the compression leads to death."

Mary asked how they could treat the pressure. Harry explained how steroids reduce the swelling of the brain, which, in turn, relieves some of the pressure. This bought the patient some time. Removing the blood was the definitive therapy, though. Harry rechecked the pupils and the right one was beginning to dilate. He needed to do something. Where was Mary's husband? He couldn't just sit around much longer. Mary sensed his impatience and asked, "How could we remove the blood?"

Harry responded, "He needs a CAT scan to identify the site of bleeding. Then he needs to go to surgery for burr holes to drain the blood."

Quietly, Mary said, "Have they not shown skulls of other Native Americans who had these burr holes performed in ancient times? They had no CAT scans."

Harry's first impulse was a flash of anger because he was being compared to some ancient witch doctor. He was then quite humbled by the simple reprimand. Very gently he said, "You're right. We should be able to do the burr holes here."

Chapter 6

Harry repeated his neurologic exam and was convinced of the progressive deterioration. If he did not operate, this patient would die. However, operating blindly could kill the patient, and operating without sterile conditions could cause sepsis and a brain infection. He remembered a lecture on the history of neurosurgery. At the time, operating on the basis of a simple physical exam and an educated guess regarding location of the hematoma seemed archaic at best. Now that he was faced with a similar situation, he realized how much personal fortitude a surgeon required to proceed in the face of uncertainty. No wonder neurosurgeons had egos.

The site of the skull fracture remained indented, with normal soft tissue swelling. It just didn't feel like significant pressure was developing under the fracture. The hematoma must be on the opposite side. Harry thought about the forces applied when Sven had struck the attacker. Surely the brain had bounced back and forth inside the skull. The hematoma probably resulted from bridging veins in the sagittal or lateral sinuses tearing when this man's brain bounced away from his skull. The skull fracture was on the left; it would be logical that the subdural was on the left. Harry wasn't able to put in words why he thought the hematoma was on the right - other than to say that it didn't feel like pressure was building up under the fracture. A simple CT scan would have given him the answer almost immediately.

Harry interrupted Theodore to ask where his first-aid kit was. Theodore did not even look up. "Bathroom. Under the sink."

Harry retrieved the first-aid kit. It was standard military issue with antiseptics and bandages, but no surgical instruments. Mary said she had a surgical kit at her house which was where the medicine was, too. Harry was about to insist that he needed the equipment and medicine, despite the risk, when they heard someone stepping onto the porch. John spoke up, "It's me, and I have the driver."

Mary started to open the door. Theodore stopped her and handed Harry one of the semi automatic rifles. They stood against the wall and Theodore nodded to Mary to open the door. As the door opened, a stranger stepped in. John followed, holding his hunting rifle at the ready. As John stepped through, Theodore closed and secured the door behind him. John explained how he found the driver sitting in the running van ready to depart. When he tapped on the car window with his rifle the man had crouched down and gunned the engine. John had chosen to simply shoot the tires rather than the man. The tires stayed on the rim for a ways before the van lost all traction. The man tried to flee on foot but was overtaken quickly.

Theodore did not recognize the man and asked John who he was. John replied with a nod and an Eskimo phrase. Harry had to ask what the phrase meant and Theodore explained, "It's a nice way for an Eskimo to describe a white man who is a schmuck."

Theodore began to question the man in detail about how he became associated with the attackers. Harry interrupted to ask if Mary could get the medical and surgical supplies he needed. Theodore asked the driver again how many men he had brought. The driver insisted there were only four of them. Theodore agreed to let Mary retrieve the instruments and supplies, but insisted that John accompany her. When the driver became uncooperative, Harry said, "You know Theodore, I've never done a burr hole with a cordless drill before."

Theodore added, "And you think if you practiced on this schmuck it would be better?"

Harry said, "A little practice is always a good thing. Besides, ventilating his brain a little might help him remember."

The driver was now looking very confused and asked, "What are you talking about, ventilating my brain?"

Harry explained, "This one gentleman you brought to us has developed a blood clot over his brain. I have to drill a hole through his skull to drain the blood and relieve the pressure. I could use some practice."

"Nobody's drilling no holes in my head."

Theodore suggested, "Maybe you should remember a little better why you drove these guys out here."

The driver looked at Harry, who was practicing with a cordless drill, then at Theodore, who was holding an automatic rifle pointed at his head. He said, "You guys are crazy. They gave me a grand upfront and promised me another grand when we got back. They never said nothing about anyone getting hurt. They just wanted to bring some guy back with them. How was I supposed to know they were bad guys?"

Theodore said, "I suppose it's every day someone offers you two grand to drive out to Council." Theodore continued, "Did they describe the guy they were looking for?"

"They said he was a stranger who had just come in on the morning flight. They described him as being a really big man with reddish hair." The driver looked up at Harry who just smiled back at him.

Theodore's small living room was now filled with prisoners. Harry decided to use the kitchen as his operating room. The two recovered attackers wanted to know what Harry was going to do to their leader. Harry did his best to explain the surgery and the risk. The confusion evident on their faces meant they either did not understand the proposed surgery or why someone would help their enemy. Harry decided it was irrelevant and proceeded to prepare for his surgery. He carried the unconscious man into the kitchen and placed him on the kitchen table. He used Theodore's barber set to clip the man's already short hair to stubble. He then used some dishwashing soap to scrub the right side of his patient's skull, and followed by shaving it with one of Theodore's razors.

Mary returned with their medical kit. She had a reasonable selection of bandages and a few scalpels. Harry asked her to boil some water and placed the largest drill bit from Theodore's tool collection into the pot. He was wondering about a cautery unit and interrupted Theodore again. Theodore responded, "In the middle drawer under my workbench are a couple soldering guns."

Harry had Mary retrieve the tools and selected the smaller pencil type. There was no logical way to sterilize the tool, though he had Mary wash it with soap and water. They covered the table with sheets and Harry used some of the local anesthetic to numb up the skull and scalp. He washed his hands and dried them with a clean towel. Harry considered for just a second his choice of surgical sites. Then he used the scalpel to cut through the man's scalp, down to the bone above his right ear. He picked up the now hot soldering gun and used it to sear the bleeding edge of the scalp. When he had controlled the bleeding, Harry took a deep breath and picked up the cordless drill. With a half-inch bit Harry begin drilling into the skull. The bone drilled harder than wood, but the drill gradually ate into the man's skull which was about 1/4" thick. As Harry's drilling reached through the hard outer cortex, the drilling speeded up and Harry relaxed the pressure. As the bit began biting into the inner layer, Harry needed to again increase his pressure. Too much pressure and the drill would fracture the inner table of the skull and damage the brain even further. Not enough pressure just generated heat from the drill without cutting away the bone.

As Harry reached the expected depth, he relaxed the pressure again and kept removing the drill bit and cleaning the bottom of his hole. The bone itself was bleeding, but Harry was looking for a change in color as the tip of the drill bit penetrated through the man's skull. When he finally saw a point of redness, he knew the real danger was beginning. Harry began to sweat profusely. He needed one of the diamond burrs from his neurosurgical kit. Unfortunately, it was 2,000 miles away. He would slowly drill for a few seconds; then wipe the hole clean with linen strips Mary had boiled for him. The center area of redness continued to grow from a small dot, and dark blood oozed into his drill hole. His surgical hunch had been right. Now he needed to enlarge the hole enough to evacuate all of the accumulated blood.

The oozing blood obscured his view completely. He used the smooth end of a forceps to feel the bony edge of the hole he was creating. It seemed to take forever to gradually wear down the edge without driving fragments of bone into the patient's brain. After about 20 minutes, Harry was satisfied with his hole. He figured that at least 50 cc of blood had oozed out of the hole. Some of the blood was already clotted. He wished he had a suction device to draw out the remaining clots. He thought about drilling another hole, but decided the risk outweighed the benefit. He used the forceps and the linen strips to remove as much of the clotted blood as he could. There was a small amount of fresh bleeding, but without a full surgical exposure he would be unable to stop the bleeding. The vessels would have to seal off themselves. It was highly unlikely the patient would bleed to death from the slow bleeding but the buildup of pressure between the skull and the brain would have most certainly herniated the brainstem out of the skull and killed the patient.

Harry used one of the linen strips to loosely pack the drain hole he had created and then added more strips as a surgical dressing over the top. He then used gauze to create a skull dressing to absorb the bleeding and protect the wound from further contamination. He had done his best and now they would have to wait to see whether it was good enough. He interrupted Theodore again to ask, "How long until we can medevac this guy out to a hospital?"

Theodore called out from the adjacent room, "Snow should let up enough for a helicopter in ten to 12 hours. Is the guy going to make it?"

"He should. Probably lose a couple more units of blood. But he should be able to tolerate that."

Harry had Mary help him move the patient into Theodore's bed. He remained unconscious, but his pupils seemed less dilated. Harry doubted the man would regain consciousness soon, but he tied his hands together anyway. No use taking any chances. Mary, who had not said anything during the surgery, stated, "You do good work. I was imagining primitive peoples doing this with bone scrapers. Do you think they knew what they were doing?"

Harry replied, "I've read some of the reports. Hard to say if they were letting out evil spirits or relieving pressure. People survived the treatment and their skulls healed, so they must have known something."

Harry asked Mary to watch over their patient/prisoner and he went to talk to Theodore. Theodore had a stack of papers waiting for him. The papers were medical and scientific articles regarding neurotransmitters. One of the papers had Harry's name on it from when he was a resident in neurosurgery. They had treated a patient with a frontal tumor who had suffered from periodic episodes of rage that ended when they removed the tumor. The tumor cells had been secreting a neurotransmitter which seemed to be involved in the loss of control the patient suffered from. Most of the other papers had to do with either genetics or with neuroendocrine function in parasites. Several of the papers were written by a Dr. Ahmad.

Harry finished his quick read of the material and asked, "You think this Dr. Ahmad is our man?"

"It's by far our best match. His field of research is neurotransmitters in parasites. He is connected with a possible terrorist organization, and he is on the Board of Directors of a small cell phone company with Arab ownership. Oh, he also lives just outside of Minneapolis."

Harry asked, "You think they have engineered these brain worms for a terrorist act?"

Theodore did not look up from his computer screen for a minute or so before responding, "I have calculated an 87% chance that the genes which were inserted into your brain worms are responsible for producing the neurotransmitter you found in your patient suffering from periodic episodes of rage. I haven't figured out why, but I'm pretty sure of the connection."

"What next?"

Theodore punched some more keys and a weather map was displayed which showed the snowstorm moving inland. He punched some more keys and the map became a moving display. Theadore said, "I think the storm will moderate in Nome 0600 local. But as slow as it is moving, it'll be noon before anything can fly here. I have a military transport arriving from Elmendorf to pick you up in Nome at 0600. With refueling, you should be departing by 0630. Arrival in Minneapolis at 1400 local. Some Special Ops folks will meet you there and help set up the operation."

"How do I get to Nome in this snowstorm?"

"I'll have John take you in his dog sled to the roadhouse at Solomon. The road should be fairly clear from there to Nome and I'll have a driver waiting to pick you up. You'll need to leave by 0200."

"A dog sled?"

"About the only reasonable way to travel in a snowstorm. Between the dogs' natural ability and my GPS headset, they'll get you there safely. The schedule gives you a couple more hours of sleep."

Harry asked, "What about the guy with a head injury? He needs real medical care."

Theodore looked up at Harry and said, "You've changed some. The mission comes first; the well-being of the enemy combatants must be kept secondary. I'll have him medevaced out as soon as a helicopter can get in here. Only room for one on the dog sled. By the way, here's your orders which are retroactive to the time you performed the surgery. You're entitled to $124 a day, plus per diem for hazardous duty."

Harry asked, "You can do this?"

"Not sure, but I did it anyway. Something significant is brewing and we need to get a handle on it. I think you should get some sleep while you can and let me finish my work."

Harry lay in the spare bedroom trying to get some rest. He was trying to analyze the information Theodore had given him, but it wasn't making sense. His soldier's ability to sleep took hold and he slipped into oblivion. He found himself watching Angie being tortured in a cell that looked like his torture site from many years ago. Dreams of the ordeal he had faced seemed tame, compared to watching his wife in anguish. Someone was grabbing him by the shoulder when all he wanted was to break into the room and rescue his wife. Gradually Theodore's voice entered his consciousness, "Harry, it's OK. Harry, time to wake up."

Harry withdrew from the scene of torture and reentered reality. He looked up at Theodore and said, "Sorry. They had Angie in the torture cell."

Theodore looked at the now twisted metal headboard and knew Harry had had a tough dream. He simply said, "Time to get going."

Harry dressed and found breakfast waiting. Mary had cooked up a platter of hotcakes and moose sausage. John came in and said the dogs were ready. Mary told him to eat something first. John took off his heavy parka and ate while standing by the door to stay cool. Harry finished his stack of pancakes and sausage and began dressing in his outerwear. John asked if he had more clothes. Harry shook his head no and John said, "I'll drive careful, so you can stay warm."

They walked out into darkness which was banished only from a small area in front of the house where light fell through window panes. The snowflakes were so small they didn't show up as individual flakes but rather as a general whiteness which quickly paled the yard light. The dogs were harnessed in two rows. There were at least a dozen of them hopping in their excitement. The back of the sled was chained to a post on Theodore's stoop. Harry followed John out to the sled. The dogs' yelps increased exponentially as John approached the sled. He had Harry climb into the wooden sled which seemed a bit flimsy for someone of Harry's size. Harry half sat and half laid on the foam cushion. John then covered him with a sleeping bag and a blue tarp. Harry felt even more like baggage when John used ratcheting straps in a crisscross fashion to secure him and the tarp to the sled. The sled itself was made of strips of wood locked together with what appeared to be rawhide. It seemed to sag way too much with Harry's weight.

Then they were on their way. Harry hadn't even thanked his friend for the help nor apologized for the trouble he had brought. His thoughts were first of how ridiculous it was to be traveling by dog sled to meet a jet transport. As the dogs began climbing the hill, the sled tended to rock back and forth with significant creaking like an old rocking chair. The animals were working hard and started to put all of their energy into pulling. Their yelping was soon replaced by the silence of the snow and the soothing sound of the sled runners. The regular drumming of the dogs' feet added a musical quality to the quiet sounds. As the hill steepened, Harry felt John step off the runners and heard his footsteps as he ran along the sled, helping push it uphill. John would shout an occasional word to direct the dogs. Otherwise, he and the team worked together silently. Harry felt a change when they crested the hill. Despite wiping his goggles clean, he could see nothing. They were out of the valley with the trees, and snow now obliterated everything. He wasn't sure how John and the dogs could navigate in the whiteout.

The rhythm of the sled and the quiet sounds of the sled runners and dog's paws produced a soothing of Harry's distraught emotions. There was no reason for anyone to torture Angie. She was just a pawn being used to draw him in. She would be afraid, but there was no reason for her life to be endangered as long as her kidnappers felt she had value. If Theodore was right, they wanted him because of his knowledge of the brain worms. Someone must have told them that he had kept a couple of the worms or maybe the radio interference in the operating room was a transmitter which had relayed the info. The question was how were the brain worms connected with his paper on neurotransmitter induced rage. Rage in a terrorist would be a powerful weapon. Yet, how would they control the onset of a rage? His patient with the brain worms exhibited no signs of being able to control his rage.

They had been traveling for a couple of hours when John called a halt to the dog team and took time to make sure Theodore's sensor had registered their passage. The dogs were panting from their exertion on the uphill run. As soon as John gave them the command to move though, they were off and running. Their speed improved significantly as they headed downhill to the coast of Norton Sound. The wind was also noticeably stronger and the snow packed more firmly. The rocking of the sled, especially on turns, was much more noticeable. At times Harry felt sure the sled was going to tip. He shifted his weight to the outside as much as his confinement allowed. John did not need his help and was distracted by Harry's weight shifting. He told Harry, "It would be better for you to sit still. The dogs and I will control the sled."

Harry did as he was told and concentrated on trying to see something in the darkness. He would wipe his goggles but it changed nothing. He felt trapped, with only the sound of the dog's paws and the sled runners mixed with the creaking of the sled, connecting him with his mission. He tried to plan the next phase, but had no information to base his planning on. Instead, his anxieties would surface only to be soothed by the sounds. He lost track of time. A building suddenly appeared and John called a halt to the dogs. Lulled, Harry felt a sharp sense of disappointment that his ride was over. He now understood a little why this ancient mode of transportation persisted in a time of rocket ships.

When Harry was released from the sled and stood, he realized his feet were numb from the cold. A car was waiting. With a simple handshake, he left John and his dogs behind. The falling snow did seem less dense, but the wind was much more noticeable, building the snow up against the left side of the car as they drove toward Nome. They arrived at the airport a little past six and a sergeant was waiting for him in the terminal. He asked to see Harry's orders. Harry produced the papers Theodore had given him. The sergeant examined them carefully before saluting Harry and saying, "Welcome aboard, Sir. Can I assist with your luggage?"

"Thank you, Sergeant. No luggage. I appreciate the lift."

Harry's feet were now burning and tingling from the warming in the overheated car. He walked across the tarmac gingerly to the Gulfstream jet painted in Air Force colors that was waiting for him. He climbed aboard and took the seat indicated by the sergeant. The pilot boarded the plane and said, "It'll be a few more minutes while they de-ice the plane. Flying up here keeps you on your toes. The storm has settled down some, but we still had to push minimums to get in here."

Harry replied, "I appreciate your efforts. Sorry for the inconvenience."

The young Air Force captain replied, "No problem. I'd much rather be flying than working on the report my CO wants done regarding the maintenance issues. We don't get many VIP trips to Nome."

Harry ignored the hint for an explanation and looked out the window. The snow was still swirling around the streetlights and dawn had not yet come to this northland. He said, "Still looks pretty marginal to me."

The young pilot sounded cocky as he reassured Harry, "With our new electronic guidance systems we can handle zero-zero conditions on takeoff without any problem."

Harry was thinking back to some of the helicopter flights he had flown in conditions like these. It was just too easy to get disoriented. Better not to know what was going on. His thoughts were interrupted. The sergeant presented a secure briefcase and several forms for Harry to sign accepting these documents. Harry scanned the forms which authorized him access only while in transit. Theodore must have found something. Harry signed the forms and accepted the key with the sergeant's admonition not to open the file until they were airborne.

Chapter 7

Angie left the Guthrie Theater and headed up Hennepin Avenue toward her car. It had been a delightful play. Harry would have enjoyed it if he just wouldn't work so much. She started thinking about their relationship. Maybe she was becoming a bit of a "Shrew" herself. She didn't really understand why Harry needed to commit so much of himself to medicine. It must have something to do with the nightmares he had. But she couldn't fix that. She needed him.

Lost in her thoughts, Angie opened her car door. She never saw the two men approaching her. One of them placed a strap around her arms and the other a strip of tape across her mouth. They simply picked her up and put her in the backseat of a car like a piece of baggage. Her abduction had taken all of 15 seconds. She struggled to sit up, but the windows were so darkened she could not even see out. The front seat was separated from the back by a thick dark glass. They drove for what seemed to be about an hour before stopping. The door opened and strong hands reached in and lifted her out. She wanted to fight, but there was nothing to fight. She was carried in through a garage-like building and into a brightly lit hallway. They made multiple turns and descended in an elevator. A door was opened through which she was carried and sat on a chair. An armed guard stood by the doorway as the tight strap was removed from her arms. One of the men said with an accent which sounded Middle Eastern, "You will stay here. You may remove the tape."

They left her sitting confused and scared. She began carefully pulling the tape from her face, trying to leave at least some skin attached. The tears did not help. With the tape removed, she thought of screaming but decided no one would be capable of hearing her. When she had settled down a bit, she began to look around the room she was in. It appeared to be a small, nicely appointed apartment with a sleeping area and a sitting room. There were curtains on the wall, but behind them were no windows. Thoughts continued to race through her head, but nothing made any sense. Someone had obviously planned for her arrival because there were clean clothes of her size in the closet. Worn out, she decided to try and sleep. She prepared for bed and dressed in a nightgown that seemed to have an Arabic design. Sleep did not come easily, and when it did, her dreams were of Harry and fighting.

She wasn't sure how long she had slept or the time of day she awoke. She had left the bathroom light on just to help keep oriented. She looked around and realized someone had placed a tray of food on the table. She had not heard anything and this frightened her anew. She looked at the table more closely and realized it was some sort of dumb waiter. She put on a beautiful cotton robe and sat at the small table. She was quite hungry but wondered if she should eat. She thought of Harry and what he would do. She could hear him say, "Might as well eat. If they meant to harm you, they would have already done it." So she ate. The fresh fruit was excellent.

Time seemed to have no meaning without clocks or daylight. She filled the time, after preparing for the day, by practicing her singing. Soon another meal appeared on the small table which she saw descend into the floor and then reappear with the food. Harry had never talked much about his imprisonment but did say keeping track of the time was one of the secrets to maintaining sanity. She knew how long her songs were and that gave her at least a clock of sorts.

Angie continued to pace around the small apartment she was locked in. She had been held captive for two of her nights now and she felt as if the confinement was going to drive her crazy. Why was she being held? It obviously had something to do with Harry because the only thing they had asked her for was his e-mail address. She worried about Harry. Was he in trouble too? After fidgeting and singing most of the afternoon, she finally sat and picked up a copy of the Holy Book, which was sitting by the bedside. Leafing through the text, she was amazed at how many of the stories she recognized from her Bible studies. Her reading was interrupted by a knock at the door. A young man dressed in a business suit and carrying a gun entered.

He bowed slightly and said, "Ma'am, your presence has been requested for dinner. If you would accompany me please."

Angie looked at the man and was tempted to try and use the skills in self-defense she had learned at Harry's urging. He looked much too comfortable with his gun. She rose from the reading chair and headed towards the door. The young man stepped aside and allowed her to enter the hallway before saying, "Proceed to the left. The elevator is at the end of the hall."

Angie did as she was directed and found the elevator door open and waiting. They entered the small elevator and her guard used a key to activate it. The elevator began ascending. Either it was a very slow elevator, or they moved several stories. The door opened and her guard nodded for her to exit the elevator. She entered a large foyer which was richly decorated with tapestries and dark wood. She was directed across the foyer. She could see a grand staircase to the left leading downwards to an elegant entryway, yet she was directed to the right. They stopped in front of a massive, carved wood door that dominated the wall in front of them. Her guard knocked quietly on the door and opened it. She entered a room whose walls were covered with tapestries; even the ceiling was covered in cloth. Ahead of her was a long dining table with a cluster of men at the far end. It was obvious their conversation had ended with her arrival.

The man sitting at the head of the table rose and walked toward her. He was dressed in a dark suit and appeared slightly older than Harry. He had significant graying of his dark hair at the temples. He was a small man who carried himself with dignity. He bowed ever so slightly and said, "Mrs. Williams, I must apologize for this horrible inconvenience we have caused you. We mean you no harm and I pray to God that your dignity is being respected."

Angie was startled by the man's sincerity. She answered, "I am being treated well, but why are you keeping me prisoner here?"

A look of anguish appeared on the man's face before he replied, "I know it is not proper to hold innocent women captive under the teachings of our holy book. It is a price I bear. We mean you no harm... Your husband has something of mine which must be returned. Let us enjoy the meal God has provided. We will speak more of this later."

He again bowed ever so slightly and motioned toward one of the settings at the table end. As she moved toward the chair, another man in waiter's attire appeared from behind one of the tapestries and held her chair out. Angie was seated. Her napkin was presented, and she noticed a bulge under the side of the waiter's apron which appeared to be a gun. Her host or captor sat again at the head of the table. The candles were lit on the table and he asked, "May I pray?"

Without waiting for her to reply, he proceeded to pray in a language which she assumed was Arabic. He then repeated in English:

"Praise be to God, Lord of the Universe,

the Mercy-giving, the Merciful!

Ruler on the Day for Repayment!

You do we worship and You do we call on for help.

Guide us along the Straight Road,

the road of those whom You have favored,

with whom You are not angry,

nor who are lost!

Amen."

When he had finished the prayer, he asked if she wanted to pray as well.

Angie was taken back for only a second by his request. She bowed her head and prayed, "Lord our father, I thank you for the gifts you have given. I ask for your help in this time of need and if it is your will, my safe release and the safety of Harry. Amen."

When she looked up the waiter again appeared from behind one of the tapestries and set a small salad in front of her. Her host said, "A good prayer. One I can pray also. If you would not mind, I would like to know what church you belong to?"

"Presbyterian."

"I am not as knowledgeable regarding the differences amongst Christian churches as I would like. It would seem to me the teachings of Calvin have a flavor most like the flavor of our holy book. The recognition of salvation being a gift of God to those chosen is the essence of my understanding of the great teachings of our holy book. Many Christian faiths do not seem to put enough emphasis on the horrors of hell and the need to lead a good life while here on earth."

"I'm not sure John Calvin would agree."

"No, it is very difficult for someone with strong belief to understand the beliefs of another. I was initially a great disappointment to my family because I preferred the study of science to religion. Living in America gave me the opportunity to immerse myself in the beautiful logic of science. I had no need for religion. To my immigrant parents, who had such a profound faith, this was a terrible burden. They foresaw me facing an eternity of suffering in hell."

Their conversation was disrupted by the serving of a seafood dish which smelled delightful although the spices were not easily recognizable to Angie. She at first wasn't going to eat because she feared her food would be poisoned, but something in her host's sincerity changed her mind. The setting and food were almost enough to make her forget that she had been kidnapped. A thought of how Harry enjoyed seafood was enough to cement her reality. She asked, "What does your disregard for ancestral faith have to do with my kidnapping?"

A fleeting expression of pain or tension crossed his face before he replied, "Actually, it has everything to do with it. Almost 4 years ago my wife died in an auto accident and my grief opened my eyes to another aspect of life. My science could not explain her death. Oh, it could explain the physiology of death, but it was an empty explanation. At the cemetery a simple prayer was recited 11 times and on the 11th recitation I finally understood. God is the source of everything. I realized my life had not been full and my wife's death was a gift from God. It opened my eyes and allowed me to receive the message of salvation."

"I am sorry for your loss, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Once my eyes were open I saw things. I realized my science needed to be used as a tool, not only to make things better here on Earth, but also to help others see the error of their ways and obtain salvation. America is a wonderful country; it has allowed me the greatest of opportunities in science and also to realize the greatness of God. An evil has pervaded this country of mine, of ours, and captured many of our fellow citizens. I now understand it is my duty to help free those held captive by this evil."

"What evil? And are you sure others want your help?"

"The evil is the curse of gambling which Satan has spread upon our land. The Teacher was quite specific in his teachings about gambling. Satan not only holds captive those addicted by this curse, he has also blinded others to this evil. It is now my life's work to open the eyes of my fellow citizens to this evil curse."

"I don't suppose you are planning a TV commercial in opposition."

"If only it was so easy. No, a statement needs to be made. This statement needs to have enough force to open the eyes of everyone to the work of Satan. I'm risking everything in my attempt to counteract this work of Satan."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me."

"With God all things are possible. Your husband's research has led me to a way of creating the statement which will open peoples eyes."

"I thought you said Harry had something of yours. Now you're saying it was something in his research?"

"Is it not a wonderful expression of God's greatness that it was your husband's research which has given me the method to fight Satan and at the same time allow your Harry to interact again in this process? I am very much looking forward to meeting your Harry. Hopefully, he will soon return to me what is mine and then you will both be free to resume your lives."

"If Harry has something of yours, just ask him for it. I can't imagine Harry keeping anything that belonged to someone else if he knew they wanted it back."

"I would ask him except we haven't been able to contact him. Seems he's gone to Alaska. Do you have any idea why he'd go to Alaska this time of year?"

Angie looked puzzled and said, "I thought he was going fishing on the Deschutes. Guess he decided to go to Alaska instead."

"We know he went to the Deschutes River. He left for Alaska after we sent him the e-mail asking him to meet with us."

Angie just shrugged her shoulders. Her host asked, "Does he have friends in Alaska?"

"Harry doesn't have a lot of friends... One of his old Navy buddies does live somewhere in Alaska, though. Seems like I remember he's way out in the boondocks."

"That would explain why he's not responded to us. I hope he checks his e-mail soon so we can all resume our normal lives. What did your Harry do in the Navy?"

Angie was getting a little suspicious of the conversation and said, "Harry has never talked about his military life, but I know he did some diving. He keeps in contact with a few old friends, but I've never met them." She decided not to mention Harry's nightmares.

Their conversation was interrupted by a waiter offering dessert. It was a beautifully prepared fruit dish. Angie's host explained how this had been his wife's favorite dish. Abruptly, a very serious looking man appeared, apologized for the interruption, but ignored Angie completely. Angie pretended to not hear the conversation but the man was so intense his voice carried. She heard snippets about a warrior and convulsions but it made no sense to her. Her host replied to the man's information very quietly and she only picked up a few words about expected rates of complications. The man left and her host explained, "I must apologize for the interruption. One of our companions has become ill and I needed to make arrangements for his medical care. We could use the surgical services of your Harry. His abilities seem to be highly regarded."

A delightful tea with a hint of peppermint was served and Angie took a small sip before replying, "I am a musician and know little of medicine. I do know that Harry works much too hard. And, it's difficult to maintain a marriage when everyone is asking so much of one of the partners."

"My wife and I also faced a similar issue. My dedication to science caused me to work long hours and have a sense of preoccupation. When my dear wife finally understood that my efforts were not just for myself, but rather also to redeem Arab science, she became more of a partner. We both needed to sacrifice the time together we so valued, but together we could accomplish so much more."

Angie listened to her host explain how Arab science, which was the basis for almost all of modern science, had fallen into such disregard. His long litany of all the different contributions made by his Arab ancestors was almost like a chant and she found herself thinking instead of Harry. Her attention was drawn back to the present when her host said, "You know, my dear wife and I were much like you and your Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I had my commitment and dedication to science. My wife, like you, was dedicated to family first and her music second."

"You had children?"

"We have, I mean, I have two beautiful daughters who have inherited their mother's beauty and her music. You have no children?"

"Harry and I have talked about it but it seems our lives are too busy to dedicate ourselves to children. Maybe someday."

"Blessed be God. It was our gift of children which has given me strength to go on after my wife's death. I would counsel you to accept children as a gift of God. It is possible to lead a full life utilizing God's other gifts in the service of God and your fellow man. For a woman and a man, the rearing of children is the greatest gift from God."

Angie looked at her host and realized he had tears in his eyes. She asked, "Your children are not here with you, are they?"

"No. I am sorry. My emotions give me away. It is a time of possible danger and I have sent them to their grandparents. It is a burden I carry to do the will of my God." He then changed the course of conversation by asking, "Would you be willing to play the piano in my music room?"

"I'm a prisoner here and you want me to play the piano for you?"

"I'm sorry. It is an inappropriate request. Reading and listening to my wife play the piano was one of my great joys. I apologize." He continued, "Does your Harry enjoy listening to you play?"

"He says so, but all he does is sit in his chair and read. I don't know if he really listens or not."

"I think your Harry is not so different from myself. My listening was not usually an active thing but rather a subconscious one which produced a mellowing of my soul. It wasn't until I lost my wife that I realized how important it was."

"I'll play."

Her host arose and simultaneously the waiter appeared and helped pull her chair back. One of the tapestries was held to the side and another ornate door opened. The room was more of a library than a music room and at the far end sat a white Bosendorfer concert grand piano. Angie walked up to the beautiful instrument gently touching the polished top. She sat at the keyboard and did a simple warm-up before starting to play "Clair De Lune." The room rang. Music poured forth and Angie let herself go in the classic notes. She did not even pause as she completed the first piece and moved on to other works by Debussy. It was a wonderful instrument and the room's acoustics seemed tuned to the sounds of the piano.

When she looked up her host was sitting in a reading chair with his eyes closed and his fingers formed a triangle on his lips. When he realized she was done playing he opened his eyes and smiled, "We obtained this piano shortly before my wife died. Hearing it come alive again was wonderful and I thank you for the gift which I did not deserve." He asked, "You and your Harry haven't been getting along too well, have you?"

"We're having a hard time."

"All marriages have hard times. If nothing else, I hope this unpleasant situation teaches both of you how important you are to each other. A good marriage is hard work and both parties must give more than 50% to make it work. You are a gem, and I think your Harry is one too, but maybe needs a little polishing. The art of being a good wife is to learn how to polish without scratching."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. There was a discussion in a language Angie did not understand and she heard her host raise his voice emphatically. After several minutes, he returned apologizing, "I am most sorry, but my project requires my attention. You will be escorted back to your quarters."

Angie wanted to ask his name but he was gone, and the guard who had escorted her had taken his place in the doorway. She arose from the piano bench and followed him back to the elevator.

Chapter 8

The snowbirds had just started to arrive in Bullhead City, so the parking lot for the Wal-Mart store was pretty empty. A young man was walking toward the entrance rubbing his temples; he was wearing a dark jacket despite the warm temperatures. An elderly lady began backing her car out of the parking space and did not see the man behind her. The car was moving slowly enough that anyone should have been able to avoid it. The young man wasn't paying attention though. In slow motion the rear fender struck the man and knocked him down. His head struck the bumper of the pickup truck next to him. The woman stopped her car and got out to see what had happened. The young man was sitting on the ground and appeared dazed. She asked him, "Are you all right?"

His accent was so thick she was not able to understand him at first and repeated her question. This time he shouted, "I'm all right! Leave me alone."

His anger frightened the woman and she returned to her car not sure what to do next. Her fear increased dramatically when the young man got up and began kicking her car. She locked her doors and started the car. This seemed to enrage him even more and he kicked in one of her back windows. She shifted the car to drive and started to pull away. Suddenly the man was standing on her hood and kicking in her windshield. The windshield crystallized and she could no longer see forward. She tried to drive anyway and struck another car parked in the lot. The man was now screaming at her in a foreign language. She panicked and shifted the car into reverse. She stepped on the accelerator. Rearward motion caused the man to fall from her hood, but she struck another car and was stopped again. Her anxiety increased.

A few people had already gathered and a retired military officer stepped forward to try and control the situation. He approached the young man saying, "Settle down."

The young man was already in a full rage. Screaming, he spun toward the man and planted a karate kick into his upper abdomen. He followed with an elbow to the man's temple, crushing his skull. He turned from his lethal attack and again charged the car. The woman inside screamed for help. People grabbed their cell phones to call the police. No one dared approach the young man.

After he had destroyed all the windows in the car he opened the door and dragged the woman out. He threw her to the ground and got in the car. He started ramming the car behind it and in front of it. The woman tried to escape by crawling, but the rear wheels crushed her legs before she could get away. Everyone was running away! The enraged driver continued to batter all the cars in the parking lot until his weapon would barely move. He then pointed the car toward the store. Its front wheels would barely turn because of sheet metal rubbing against the tires. He floored the accelerator. The rear wheels screeched against the pavement as the car moved toward the store's glass entryway. The store manager was standing in the doorway but fled as he saw the car approaching. It crashed through the safety glass. The turnstiles had enough strength to stop the vehicle.

The man tried to open the door but it was jammed. He climbed out the window, still screaming in a foreign language. He knocked over everything in his path as he made his way toward the sporting goods department. Sirens were filling the air as the police arrived.

As he made his way toward the gun rack, everyone fled the store. When he reached the gun rack and found it was locked, he picked up a baseball bat and began breaking everything in sight. He repeatedly struck the lock securing the shotguns in the rack, but the lock held. He turned his attention back to the glass counter tops. The safety glass was tough and did not break under his battering. He moved to the tool section and picked up a sledgehammer. A single blow was enough to shatter the safety glass. He picked through the pistols but realized they were all air pistols. He used the sledgehammer on the lock securing the shotguns. The lock finally gave way and he grabbed a 12 gauge Remington. Shotgun shells were sitting on the counter, and he began loading the shotgun as the police entered the store.

Noticing movement, he began shooting across the store. He emptied the shotgun, shooting at the lights and any movement. He reloaded the first shotgun and grabbed another to load also. He kept shooting one shotgun until it was empty, and with the second ready would reload the first. Any movement or light reflection would draw his attention. He had thousands of shotgun shells and was protected behind the heavy cabinet.

Bullhead City was a quiet town and the police were not used to doing much more than dealing with traffic violations or the occasional drunk. Even domestic disputes were relatively rare in this retirement community. Now their entire on-duty police force, which consisted of two young officers who had never fired weapons at another human being, were trying to control the situation. The police chief was off-duty and somewhere on the Colorado River fishing. The officers made frantic calls to the state troopers but they were in an isolated corner of the state and help would be a while arriving. Loughlin, across the state line in Nevada, had a little larger police force but no legal status in Arizona. They asked for help anyway.

It seemed as if they had reached a standoff. The gunman was staying behind the counter firing a shotgun repeatedly and destroying the store. As long as they could keep him in the store help would arrive eventually. They would occasionally take a shot in his general direction just to keep him pinned down. The walls all around them were peppered with shotgun pellets. A crowd was gathering in the parking lot and the police wanted to disperse them, but there was no one available to do it.

The random shooting stopped and the young officers peeked around their cover. Suddenly the young man began running toward the exit with a shotgun in each hand, like a movie character. The closest officer yelled a warning to stop and was rewarded with a shotgun blast that blew his hat off. The second officer took aim and fired his 9 mm Lugar. He thought he hit the gunman, but a shotgun blast forced him to duck as well. The first officer peeked above his cover and began firing but was forced back down again by the shotgun blast. The gunman was now backing through the doorway, occasionally firing one of the shotguns.

Suddenly, the gunman just fell to the ground. One of the young policemen started toward the door saying, "He's down."

The policeman who had lost his hat responded, "Are you sure?"

Cautiously, the first officer approached the gunman. He still clutched one of the shotguns while lying on his back thrashing violently. His hand holding the shotgun was already bloodied from striking the concrete sidewalk and there was a thumping sound as the gunman's head struck the concrete during his convulsions. The policeman approached warily and tried grabbing the shotgun from his hand. Only after he had forcefully pried open the man's fingers, already contracted in a death-like grip, was he able to take the gun.

It took a moment for the police to convert from their attack mode to a first aid mode and try to protect the man's head from the concrete. He was now foaming at the mouth and his tongue was bleeding and blackened from having been clinched between his teeth. More sirens could be heard arriving. They were having little success at protecting the man's head from striking the concrete because his convulsions were so forceful. Then the convulsions stopped. The policemen relaxed for a few seconds until they realized the gunman had stopped breathing, too. An ambulance arrived and the officers were relieved to transfer CPR care to the Medic. The man had no pulse and they were unable to pry his mouth open to insert an airway. He was dead.

Chapter 9

Harry sat with his eyes closed visualizing the maps and details from the packet of information Theodore had provided. He would occasionally open his eyes and glance at a sheet to make sure his mental image was accurate. He had no way of knowing what information would be essential, so he was memorizing all of it. They were at 43,000 feet streaking southeast across north central Canada. His concentration was broken when the Air Force sergeant interrupted him saying, "Excuse me, sir. You have a phone call which is secured."

Harry accepted the phone offered to him and the sergeant disappeared forward. He placed the phone to his ear and said, "Hello." There was no response. The phone seemed dead. He looked at the handset closer and saw a flashing button labeled "Hold." He pressed the button and the flashing stopped. He could now hear some static. He said, "Harry here."

Theodore's voice came through saying, "Harry, we have about 7 1/2 minutes before we lose satellite coverage. I may have another case for you. A Jordanian man studying in the US went into a rage and then died during a seizure."

Harry asked, "What did the autopsy show?"

"Wasn't one."

"Can't you get one done? We need to know if he had brain worms."

Theodore responded, "The body was stolen from the morgue before the autopsy could be performed. This happened in some small town in Arizona."

"Did he have any symptoms?"

"The reports are pretty sketchy. Apparently he was accidentally struck by a car and hit his head. His rage became progressive. He pretty much destroyed everything in a store and parking lot, and killed one old-timer. He was shooting everything up and then suddenly developed a seizure and died."

"I wonder if he could have ruptured a cyst when he hit his head?"

Theodore asked, "What would that do?"

Harry explained, "If these brain worms are capable of excreting neurotransmitters, the fluid of the cyst would have a high concentration. If the frontal lobes of the brain were directly stimulated, an uncontrollable rage would develop. That's what happened intermittently to my patient whenever the tumor would release the neurotransmitter. Nothing as dramatic as you described."

"Would it have to be in the frontal lobes?"

"It would be more effective if the frontal lobes were directly stimulated. That's why frontal lobectomies were so effective in controlling rage."

"I thought your patient, which started all of this, had a cyst that blocked his brain's drainage path."

Harry explained, "His acute symptoms were from the blockage. However, he had multiple cysts in his frontal lobes. Apparently these brain worms have a predilection for the frontal lobes. Normally they don't cause much of a problem unless they develop a cyst that blocks the drainage from the ventricles."

Harry waited for a response and finally said, "Are you still there?"

"Just a minute..."

Harry heard typing in the background and figured Theodore was working on his computer while they spoke. Harry glanced at his watch. He wasn't sure when they started talking, but their time must be almost up. Theodore spoke up saying, "The guy who developed the rage attack was studying at the Colorado Institute of Mining. His major was structural engineering and he had a scholarship from an organization called The Institute for Advancement of Arab Science. Guess who the main benefactor is for this Institute?"

"How would I know?"

"Figured you would guess. It's one Doctor Ahmad."

"The same guy you think kidnapped my wife?"

"The scholarship is awarded in memory of his wife. I think we had better get a handle on any other recipients. There doesn't seem to be much public information on this Institute. Our time is about out. It'll be another hour or so before we have secure coverage. I'll call you back if I come up with anything else. All the information I can find on the security system will be waiting for you when you arrive in Minneapolis."

Harry was about to ask what coursework this Jordanian had been taking when the phone went silent.

Harry thought about the new information for just a few minutes and then did what most professional soldiers would do when faced with information which didn't add up: he slept. He dreamt of Angie playing at a concert hall when a group of madmen broke in and began destroying the place. Angie ignored the uproar and continued to play. He was struggling through the crowd trying to reach her to protector her, but the mass of humanity plugging the aisle kept him away. He awoke with a start, covered with sweat. At least he hadn't destroyed the airplane seat, as he had the metal headboard in Council. He glanced at his watch. Another 10 minutes or so before Theodore would call back.

He closed his eyes again. Only this time, Harry visualized how the brain worms could invade the frontal lobes. Laura had explained how the larva travel in the blood stream and then work their way directly into the tissues. How would you train these worms to concentrate in the frontal lobes? He could think of no vascular difference that would signal the worms to exit the blood vessels in the brain, rather than the liver or muscle. He began wondering how they got out of the blood vessels. Did they actually chew their way through the vessel wall and into the brain tissue? If about 10% of the blood flow went to the brain, wouldn't 90% of the worms end up in other tissues? It seemed injecting the worms directly into the brain would be the most efficient, but his patient had no evidence of previous surgery.

Maybe they entered through the cribriform plate. Yet how would you keep the larva against the cribriform plate? This porous bone at the roof of the nose allowed the nerve endings to connect the brain directly with the nose for the sense of smell. He had patched leaks of brain fluid through the cribriform plate by lifting the frontal lobes and putting a patch over the porous bone. It would be the most direct connection. However, since it was open below to the throat, training the worms to migrate through the bone openings seemed impossible. You could inject the worms through the bone. But there was no way of sterilizing the nose. So, infection would be a major problem. Maybe if you injected the worms into the sphenoid sinus they would find their way up through the cribriform plate. It wasn't making much sense. Harry's musings were interrupted again by the phone.

Theodore said, "I think I've found the connection. This student who went berserk had been studying at a university in Jordan before his transfer. The religious teacher who led his religious studies group is considered a threat because of his teachings. I've found several calls between this guy and the religious teacher who Doctor Ahmad studies under."

"And?"

"I just have the times and dates of the calls but no recordings. Another coincidence which seems to link these events together."

Harry asked, "Was this Jordanian, the religious teacher, teaching the usual religious war stuff?"

Harry could hear Theodore typing in the background and after just a few seconds Theodore replied, "Nope. Seems he's convinced that his religious group must take an active part in the ongoing battle between God and Satan."

"Why would this create a security threat?"

Theodore answered, "This theology stuff isn't something I enjoy - more your bag than mine. Seems the offending statements have something to do with martyrs who die fighting Satan getting a higher reward in heaven. He goes on to speak about innocent lives who are lost in the battle also being rewarded."

Harry asked, "Is Satan identified?"

Theodore worked his keyboard before answering, "Just as a fallen angel. Nothing political that I can see. I'm not sure how this relates to his being listed as a security threat - other than martyrdom being related to the suicide bombers. Do you see a connection I'm missing?"

"I would expect it has something to do with the innocent lives being lost implying collateral casualties... Keep digging. Where does this Doctor Ahmad get the funds to sponsor those scholarships?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention that. Seems the cellular phone company that your Doctor Ahmad is involved with is extremely profitable and privately held. As best as I can tell, the profits are from exorbitant charges to customers in the Middle East. The money flows back through Doctor Ahmad to other charities and institutions. All quite legal but sort of fishy."

Harry mused, "Seems like my car exploding when I tried to use my cell phone may be more than a coincidence. I think we need to keep looking at this connection. Anything else?"

"We're about out of satellite coverage. The security system at Doctor Ahmad's estate is quite elaborate. It'll be a challenge, but I'll try to get everything organized by the time you land in Minneapolis."

"How about gear and equipment?"

"Being organized as we speak. Getting stuff your size is still a problem. It'll all be unmarked and hopefully untraceable. Looks like your best approach is going to be from the lake."

"Any help?"

"I've activated José. We're not authorized to operate stateside, so nobody's going to accept responsibility. If I can find anything firmer I'll get the security folks involved. Until then you'll be on your own. Getting the FBI involved would be an issue because they're looking for you as a suspect."

"Theodore, one more thing...thanks."

Harry heard Theodore start to say something but the phone line went dead. Harry muttered to himself, "You would think with all this satellite communication stuff a person could finish a conversation." He knew Theodore was probably working with pretty stringent security issues but it was a pain just the same. The information dots were slowly starting to line up, and with time they'd get it solved. His thoughts turned to Angie and his anxiety increased again.

Chapter 10

Harry figured they had about 45 minutes before landing in Minneapolis. He used the time to make sure he had committed all of the information in the packet to memory. Concentrating kept his anxiety down. When he felt the jet engines reduce power, he relaxed a little. Soon the sergeant came back to collect the brief case and make sure he had his seat belt on. He told Harry they would be on the ground in a few minutes. The countryside below was in full fall colors. Fall was always Angie's favorite time of the year; Harry always figured it was the artist in her.

Harry watched the ground come up at him and soon a screech of the jet's tires touching the pavement announced their arrival. The plane left the runway and continued to taxi away from the airport terminal. Harry realized they were probably going to the military portion of the airport. They taxied up to a large hangar with an open door. The jet engines were shut down, but there was no move to open the cabin door. Looking out the window, Harry could see a tug maneuvering on his side of the airplane. Soon the airplane began moving slowly forward into the hangar. When it stopped, Harry expected to disembark; however, the sergeant came back and told him it would be a few minutes yet.

Harry wasn't particularly good at waiting but decided to try and be patient. After what seemed hours, but was probably only 10 minutes, the door opened and Harry stood. The sergeant said, "Sorry, Sir. It'll be a few more minutes."

Harry sat back down and mumbled something about the military. He heard the sergeant talking to someone about the security sweep being complete. Soon the sergeant returned with a naval uniform complete with hat and shoes. He handed the uniform to Harry and asked him to change before departing the airplane. Why they wanted him in uniform made no sense, but Harry wanted off the airplane and did as he was told. The uniform even fit. Theodore had not lost his attention to detail since retiring to his intelligence work.

Harry exited the small gangway and was met by a Navy chief who appeared to be all business. He was greeted with a salute and, "Sir, welcome aboard the Naval Special Ops temporary operation site."

Harry returned a salute and nodded a reply. The chief asked him to follow. They walked around the aft section of the airplane where a limo with darkened windows was waiting with the door open. Harry noticed the hangar door had been closed. They weren't taking any chances of anyone recognizing him. He sat in the rear seat and the door was closed. He could hear the groaning of the large hangar door as it was raised. The limo moved forward and began winding around the small roads which connected the military portion of the airport to Fort Snelling. Fort Snelling was as much a museum as an operational military site. They proceeded to the edge of the compound and the limo entered a nondescript World War II era building. The door was closed behind them and the limo door opened by a young sailor. The chief said simply, "This way."

They proceeded to an office area where another sailor stood guard. Harry was asked to look into an iris scanner for identification. A door opened and Harry found himself in a small office with a single desk and an additional door. A guard opened the second door, and Harry found himself in a small waiting area in front of an elevator. The chief inserted an ID card into the slot and the elevator door opened. He motioned Harry into the elevator, which was only big enough for one person. Harry's claustrophobia surged when the door closed and he felt the elevator descending. It seemed a long time before the elevator stopped and the door finally opened. When the door was fully open, he had entered a different world.

Harry faced two Marine guards armed with automatic weapons. Ahead of him was a single door which could have led to a bank vault. A guard next to the iris scanner motioned Harry forward. Harry stared into the scanner until a green light came on. Both guards then saluted Harry. Harry crisply returned the salute, and the second guard began working with the keyboard to open the door. A single chime announced the release of the locking system. The guard pulled the door open and motioned Harry through. Harry entered a high-tech center about the size of a high school gymnasium. The door closed behind him and Harry just stood scanning the multitude of computers and displays. Theodore would have enjoyed it. Computers were just a necessary evil to Harry. Nobody seemed to notice him.

Then Harry heard his name called with a slight musical nuance and recognized José. His old friend, spry as ever, approached from across the room. He had been the youngest member of their team and still seemed a bit shy of middle-age. His hair remained dark and he sported a jaunty mustache that seemed to clash with the naval uniform he was wearing. Harry's face broke into a smile as he offered his hand. José took his hand and extended it immediately into a hug by pulling Harry's head down to his height with his left arm. Before Harry could say anything, he was being led across the room to a small office. Inside the office were crammed a commander and two petty officers, all wearing the insignia of the Navy SEALs.

José introduced Harry to the lieutenant commander and both of the petty officers. The commander was all business and started the meeting by saying, "I understand you want to be involved. But activating former team members is not proper protocol. Because this operation is stateside, a decision was reached to support your efforts, but with the understanding that we will not acknowledge your presence nor provide any detectable assistance. The two of you will be on your own. Do you accept these conditions?"

Both Harry and José responded with simple, "Yes."

The commander softened somewhat saying, "We help our own. However, rules are pretty specific about our operating stateside. The supplies and equipment have all been selected to be non-traceable. Theodore was pretty specific about what you would need, but our timetable was short. Everything is functional although not necessarily ideal." The commander handed Harry a packet and continued, "You have about 25 minutes to review the packet and then you are scheduled for a fishing excursion to scout the site before darkness sets in." He nodded toward one of the petty officers and said, "Jim helped prepare this report and he'll stay to help you work through it. When you're done there will be a taxi waiting for you at one of the alternate entrances. You will change into casual clothes before departing here. Any questions?"

"No, Sir. Just a thanks for going out on a limb to help."

"From what I hear, we all owe you a great deal. We'll do our best to keep an eye on the situation even though we're pretty limited here stateside. If things go badly, it'll have to be the FBI. Good luck."

They got to work immediately on the security system report. There was almost nothing official, but Theodore had compiled an extensive list of equipment providers' sales records. From this they had created a probable design. The system relied heavily on infrared cameras and motion detectors. There were no external alarms, which meant their security personnel were probably fully armed. Building design blueprints were not consistent with the amount of fill material removed and concrete poured: which meant there was almost certainly an underground extension. Harry was impressed with the young Navy SEAL; he had an extensive knowledge of building structure and design. He sketched a probable design of the hidden access areas. The blueprints showed the elevator going from the lower floor to the second floor. Yet, the elevator which had been ordered for the project was capable of moving through five standard floors. If they assumed three hidden levels, the amount of excavation and concrete worked out pretty well.

The ventilation system was again very oversized and a large duct system seemed to end for no reason next to the elevator shaft. They assumed these ducts provided airflow for the lower levels. Although they were not able to identify any possible stairway site, they assumed one was there. Harry asked, "How could they extend the building three stories without the building inspector noticing?"

The young man explained, "They did file a soils report showing poor soil structure which seems inconsistent with the local geology. The structural engineer involved with the project had designed these huge footings. It would not have been hard to have extended the footing trench and created a false bottom for the authorized building. Once the footings were poured, a gradual excavation would not have been easy to spot. One of the neighbors did file a complaint about the number of trucks."

Harry asked, "Any information on this structural engineer?"

"Theodore highlighted that information. Seems he originated in Egypt and finished his studies here under a scholarship given by the Institute for Advancement of Arab Science."

The discussion moved on to the security system itself. The building permit drawings showed only a very simple system, but Theodore had traced specific purchases and contracts. Highly advanced sensors and monitors had been purchased by several of the company's associated with Dr. Ahmad. There was, of course, no way of knowing which units had been installed in this particular project. The system appeared to be fairly dependent upon infrared detectors. The discussion got very technical about infrared shielding and the effectiveness of the equipment on hand. José was now in his element and he led this portion.

The second petty officer returned carrying a duffel. He said they had to get moving. He pulled casual outdoor clothing from the duffel and told Harry to get dressed for a fishing trip. While they dressed, he explained a small fishing boat had been equipped with cameras and electronic detection devices. They were to work their way along the shore fishing and do their final surveillance under the guise of a fishing trip. They left the secure room by a different tunnel and ended up in the rear of one of the museum buildings. Casually, they were merged into the flow of visitors and taken to a car. The vehicle was an older station wagon showing the signs of too many years exposed to road salt. They drove through afternoon rush-hour traffic into the sun.

They arrived at a small marina on Lake Minnetonka. The old red fishing boat seemed pretty normal. Everything on the boat however had at least two functions. There were infrared and standard video cameras built into the position lights and head of the trolling motor. The marine radio antenna was connected to a computerized signal analyzer which was hidden in a fish box. The depth finder doubled as a high resolution video monitor. Their instructions were brief, but José adapted quickly to the electronics. Harry listened to the last-minute instructions. When told to get going, he tried to get the motor started. The boat not only looked old - it was old. This motor had to be started with a rope pull. It sputtered once or twice but wouldn't catch. Finally José said, "You pull on the rope. Let me work the throttle and choke."

On the second pull, they had the engine running. With just a little tweaking of the mixture adjustments it sounded pretty good. They headed off down the shore toward the estate of Dr. Ahmad. The estate itself was built on a small island which was connected to the mainland by a gated, single lane bridge. Harry cut the motor to an idle about a half-mile from the estate and began setting up their fishing gear. There was a spinning rod for each of them and an assortment of plugs and spoons. He tied a 4 inch Daredevil spoon onto José's line and handed him the rod. José objected saying, "I don't know how to fish."

Harry laughed and said, "Anybody who can make things work and run like you do can learn to fish. Just flip the wire bail open and let out about 50 feet of line. Now click the bail by cranking on the handle of the reel. Good, now just hold your rod still and keep the tip up and maybe you'll get lucky and a fish will catch you." Harry then proceeded to rig up his rod and reel and began casting off to the side. The plug wobbled immediately and Harry could've actually enjoyed himself except they had work to do. José was so busy adjusting things and pressing buttons his rod was never still. The video monitor zoomed in on the bridge connecting the estate with the mainland. The bridge was obviously quite stout. Harry asked, "How much weight you think that bridge is designed for?"

José studied the image a little closer and said, "It can easily support a couple of fully loaded semis. Seems a bit overbuilt for an access to a private house."

José started fiddling with another instrument. Harry continued his casting, maintaining their cover. Finally Harry asked what was going on and José responded, "They're using a high frequency short burst radar. But I'm having trouble detecting the pattern. Fairly high tech. We've been in range for the past couple of minutes."

"So they know we're here?"

"Possibly. They haven't focused in on us yet. Wait a minute, now they have. No frequency shift but a series of pulses. Yup, they definitely have us. Now the random pulses have a pattern and they're including us on a regular sweep."

Harry was examining the video camera image and could detect no radar unit. José explained, "They're most certainly using the new solid-state units. Not as much range but pretty good detail and no need for a radar tower. These things are small, essentially a radar unit on a chip. They're so cheap car companies are putting them in cars to help people backup. I'll need to see if we can avoid detection by using a wooden boat."

Harry asked, "Do you have enough data to determine a safe distance?"

"I think so. We may be able to approach quite a bit closer in a wooden boat but it depends on the reflection characteristics of this frequency. It'll take a bit of study."

Harry was watching the video monitor closely and said, "They have visual on us. The video camera on the roof edge has changed angle and is now pointed at us. Make it look like you're fishing, and try and hold your rod still."

They were still a couple hundred yards away but their video camera was recording excellent detail. Harry tried to see if anyone was looking, but the windows seemed opaque and he figured it was some special type of window glass. Their depth had been averaging about 10 feet, but as they passed under the bridge it began dropping off. Harry turned towards José when he heard the rod striking the edge of the boat. José was holding on but looked confused. Something was trying to pull the rod out of his hand. Harry yelled, "Set the hook!"

José didn't have any idea what Harry was talking about. He just held on. The drag on his reel was complaining as the fish stripped off line. Harry had already shifted the motor into reverse and was trying to catch up with the fish. José regained his composure somewhat and began reeling frantically. Harry said, "Take it easy. No use reeling as long as the drag is slipping. Keep your rod up."

The fish now changed directions and headed out towards open water. Harry shifted the boat motor into forward and twisted the throttle to give the engine a little more oomph. José had stood up and the sudden acceleration almost caused him to fall overboard. Harry reached out and grabbed him. Holding on until Jose regained his footing. "Sorry about that. Now start pumping your rod, and reel on the downstroke. Not so fast, nice and easy. The fish will tire out soon."

Their mission slipped a little bit while the fish was taking them away from the island. But the chase was on, and gradually they reclaimed fishing line as they closed in on the fish. Suddenly the water erupted and a beautiful muskie walked on his tail in front of the boat with José's Daredevil hanging out of his mouth. The fish thrashed wildly and suddenly the spoon slipped free and came flying back at the boat. Harry yelled, "Incoming." They both ducked as the projectile landed in the boat between them. Harry began laughing but José was somewhat stunned. Harry said, "Now that really wasn't fair. You hook a muskie on your first time fishing! I've never been able to hook one despite my many attempts. Talk about beginner's luck. Maybe the fish knew it had a better chance with you and was just teasing us."

José asked, "Why did it get off?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "That's why it's called fishing and not catching. Maybe your hook set should have been harder, or maybe softer. No way of telling. Quite a thrill seeing one of these fish, though... I suppose we had better get back to work."

Harry turned the boat around and they angled back toward the island. He wanted to return to the bridge and complete their sonar mapping of the bottom terrain but figured it would look suspicious. Instead, he angled the boat toward the closest portion of the island and they resumed their monitoring and video recording. They were only going to miss maybe 100 yards of sonar mapping. José let his line out and Harry resumed his casting while intently watching the video monitor. He zoomed the camera into full magnification trying to detect the security cameras. A camera on the lake side of the house was hidden under the eve. No doubt but they were being tracked. Harry said, "We're on camera. Make it look like you're actually fishing." Harry pulled the brim of his hat down a little lower and made sure his face was turned away from the camera.

They completed their circle around the island and angled back to the mainland. As dusk began to settle, they continued fishing until they were around the next point and out of view. Harry told José to reel in and he accelerated the old motor. By the time they reached the marina it was getting dark. A young Navy SEAL was waiting for them and helped them remove the electronics. They left the boat tied to the dock and walked up to the parking area. Their old station wagon was the only vehicle in the lot. José noticed Harry was limping and asked, "What's up with the gimp?"

Harry replied, "I had a bit of excitement a few days ago and ended up with a few blisters. Got a ways to go before they're healed. I'll tell you about it when we get this finished up."

They loaded their gear into the station wagon and headed back to Fort Snelling. José was using some sort of electric gadget and Harry finally asked him what he was doing. José said, "Checking for bugs or tracking devices. Seems clear, but some of these new bugs put out such a narrowband signal it can be tough to detect."

Upon arrival at Fort Snelling, they entered yet another tunnel, which eventually connected them with the safe room. They no sooner entered when José and one of the young SEALs began downloading their data. The detail they were able to project went far beyond what Harry had been able to capture on the small video monitor. The commander asked about the data interruption and Harry explained, "Our work got interrupted by a fish and we needed to maintain our cover. We missed about a hundred yards of sonar survey."

This estate was a fortress with everything but the drawbridge. They discussed many ways the existing bridge could be secured. A frontal assault could be very messy and the survival of anyone held captive within could not be assured. A commando raid seemed the only alternative. They discussed logistics and available manpower but Harry wasn't really listening. He interrupted saying, "I'm going in alone. It's me they want and I'll not risk my wife or anyone else."

There was silence that was broken only after a long pause by the commander who said, "Harry, you were the best, but it's been a long time."

Chapter 11

The boat hull creaked and the oar locks groaned if Harry put too much stress on his rowing. The old boat leaked a bit but was in pretty good shape considering its age. Theodore had insisted on a wooden boat to reduce their radar signal, but the original builder would have had a difficult time adjusting to the night vision goggles and electronics his boat now carried. Harry felt renewed - actually doing something after all those hours of planning. Theodore's plan allowed him 35 minutes to approach the island giving him an arrival of 0312 local time.

Theodore had insisted on multiple data relays. A rectal probe shaped like a huge suppository was the primary locator and used a super high frequency short data burst for position reporting. Harry accepted the normal banter from his old and new friends regarding the need and technique for insertion. As always though, if Theodore said it was needed, they complied. Sitting on the hard seat rowing kept Harry aware of the probe. He concentrated hard on a nice easy rhythm, no use getting overheated. The infrared camera at the front of the boat was displayed on a monitor, they had mounted on the stern in easy view. It made rowing easier to actually be able to see where you were going and yet be able to use your whole body to row. It took Harry only a little bit to adapt to the reverse image and obtain good tracking.

On schedule they rounded the last point separating them and their target. The mansion was visible as a general outline of darkness with bright areas representing heat loss through the windows. Harry's rowing slowed and he tried to prevent any creaking from the boat hull or seats; small waves lapped against the boat. By using the wooden boat, Theodore felt they could approach within a hundred yards or so and remain undetectable. However, for a safety margin, a quarter-mile was established as their near approach point. The offshore side of the island had seemed to be the best approach with several large boulders to provide cover for Harry.

When José indicated they were at their target site, Harry stopped rowing and began completing his preparations. His weapons consisted of a ceramic knife, a toolkit, and a 9 mm Lugar which had been built out of high-strength composites. Only the firing chamber and barrel had any steel in them. The ammo used high-tech plastic cases and lead bullets with a special coating to reduce radar detection. Several pouches of plastic explosive completed his arsenal.

Theodore's plan was to have Harry disembark the boat and swim the final quarter-mile using a snorkel attached to the night vision helmet. The snorkel was designed to dissipate heat and reduce further the infrared signal. Harry was completely covered in a heavy wetsuit which should make him invisible to infrared detection equipment.

Harry began attaching the swim flippers to his feet and grimaced as they put pressure on his still raw blisters. The first major challenge was to get Harry's 260 pounds out of the boat without swamping it. In planning, it seemed easy enough to slip over the stern of the boat. The reality was not so easy. This little rowing dory was never designed to have someone of Harry's size perched on the stern. As Harry slid over the aft end, the bow of the boat pitched upward to such an extent that José grabbed onto both sides of the boat and had images of Harry sinking them. Some water shipped in over the stern as Harry slid off. But as soon as his weight transferred to the water, the stern started to rise back up out of the water. Harry held on to the boat and tried to stabilize it as José began quietly bailing the several inches of water from the boat. The microphone system in his helmet amplified the sounds and Harry could not help be concerned about the noise. He knew the sounds were amplified, but knowledge doesn't necessarily prevent the emotional reaction. When things stabilized on the boat and Harry was assured José was not going to sink, he pushed off gently.

The helmet had a built-in moving map display driven by a GPS unit. Harry simply followed the track line swimming quietly right at the surface of the lake. It was actually quite peaceful to be cruising along in the darkness of the night. Harry was now in attack mode and wasn't aware of this peacefulness. Although each kick of the flippers would rub against his blisters, Harry wasn't aware of the pain; he concentrated on the image of his position and route, which was displayed on the face shield of his helmet. As Harry approached shore, he released the flippers and crawled up between the boulders. From this point of relative protection he surveyed his route. There was a small seawall and then an expanse of grass with only an occasional shrub disturbing the open space. As he turned his head, the projected topographic map would change accordingly. He saw nothing new and decided to proceed according to their previous plan.

Harry took out the gizmo for detecting infrared laser sensors. It seemed to be nothing but a piece of wire which uncoiled from a small device like a measuring tape. Harry extended the wire fully and began moving towards the seawall. Theodore had figured they would have multiple sensors along the wall which would discriminate between birds and real targets. Harry crawled along using the probe in front like a blind person with a cane. As he approached the seawall a small flicker of light was evident along his probe. He moved even slower as he probed this defense shield. Being careful not to disrupt the first laser light, he reached over it and continued to probe. Multiple signals were evident. It seemed to be an invisible fence. Harry relaxed only a little as he contemplated his next move. Suddenly his earphones became active with José's voice advising him, "Move the probe through a 90° arc starting at a vertical point above the first laser. It's important that you move at a constant speed."

Harry knew they were transmitting data using the rectal probe and he imagined the probe was actually warming up inside of him as it sent data. He cast aside these thoughts and carefully swung the probe through the arc requested. He counted at least a dozen individual flashes; however, they all seemed to be within the first horizontal foot. The top one was almost 6 feet high, too high to jump. There was a couple minute delay before José's voice came back saying, "You need to set up a repeater and move through sensors number five and six, counting from the bottom. Place the detector so that both numbers five and six are showing and press the center button for two seconds. You must keep yourself between the fourth and seventh - between one and 1.8 m. You have six minutes of sensor relay power."

Harry began to experiment with his sensor trying to find the right angle so that both laser five and six were showing simultaneously. It took a few minutes for the set up and a few more minutes to stabilize his sensor using beach sand and gravel. He had visualized his foot placement over the lowest sensor. In order to accomplish this movement, he had to balance on his left foot while extending his right leg and foot through the imaginary opening in the fence. Harry took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He pushed the button for the long two count and, like one of the pantomime dancers at a circus, Harry extended his right leg through the imaginary fence. He visualized moving through a barbed wire fence and kept his torso bent horizontal as he rolled himself through the opening in very slow motion. He transferred his weight onto his right foot and continued the pantomime while slowly pulling his left leg through the opening. While still on all fours he reached under and picked up Theodore's sensor.

Harry used the sensor above himself before rising to a low crouch. He then continued his slow movement toward the building, probing first with the sensor. He had gone less than 20 feet when the sensor again detected the infrared lasers. This invisible fence had fewer strands and, by deactivating the uppermost strand, Harry was able to step over the fence. He had just swung his left leg over the fence when the speakers in his helmet picked up the sound of animals running. He was halfway over the fence and continued his move across the fence. By the time he finished rotating his torso across the fence, the animals were visible to his nightvision.

Harry had just enough time to plant himself firmly and draw his knife before the first dog was on him. The dogs weren't barking but were in full attack mode. The first dog lunged directly for his neck. Harry met the charge using his left forearm to block the dog and his right hand to counterattack with the knife. It was a good knife and Harry was able to slice through the dog's neck before it could clamp down with its powerful jaws. The force of the dog's lunge was enough to rock Harry back on his heels. He fought to keep from falling back into the fence.

Before Harry could completely regain his balance, the second dog was on him. It was a heavier animal. Instead of lunging for his neck, this dog went for Harry's right arm. The Kevlar covering of his wetsuit kept the dog's teeth from penetrating into his flesh, but the force of the animal's bite was enough to paralyze Harry's arm. Harry dropped the knife. With a 60 pound vice clamped on his right arm, Harry swung his body away from the fence. He raised his arm up, lifting the heavy dog to take away the animal's traction. With the powerful animal hanging from his arm, Harry grabbed the front of the dog's neck with his left hand. He squeezed hard, trying to cut off the blood supply to the dog's brain. The dog twisted while hanging from Harry's arm, creating enough force with its bite that Harry was sure the bone would be crushed.

Gradually the animal slipped into unconsciousness, but the jaws did not relax. Harry lowered the dog to the ground but kept his grip on its neck until he was sure the dog was truly dead. He then pried apart the jaws and began massaging his right forearm. There didn't seem to be any broken bones, but it took several minutes before he regained feeling and some strength in his right hand. His lack of movement had been noticed by José. Harry's speakers became active asking him what the problem was. Harry responded, "A couple of silenced Dobermans. About ready to proceed."

Harry took stock of the situation. No obvious alarms had been sounded. He had moved enough that he was no longer sure of the invisible fence position. Harry debated trying to retrieve the sensor but decided he was more apt to accidentally disrupt the lasers while looking for the sensor. Since the dogs had charged, they probably were operating in a space clear of any of the infrared laser fences. Better to move forward; he had a mission to accomplish. Harry spent only a few seconds scanning for his knife and was lucky enough to find it. He moved quickly forward in a crouched position along the line the dogs had come from. Harry kept clenching and unclenching his right hand trying to restore circulation and strength. It took only a couple minutes to approach the building proper.

The initial plan was to disable the sensors on one of the doors leading into the porch and then into the house. Harry decided to explore the dog kennel first to see if an entry would lead directly to one of the lower floors. The door into the kennel was small, but once inside Harry was able to stand and consider his options. The wall separating the kennel from the house had an obvious doorway and Harry carefully probed for magnetic sensors or electrical contacts. A single magnetic sensor was present on the top of the door. His instrument gave him a relative magnetic strength, so he chose one of the magnets from his kit and stuck it on the doorframe to maintain the position of any magnetic switches. Harry hoped this high-tech magnet would also cancel any electrical signal generated if he succeeded in opening the door.

The lock itself was a simple deadbolt which Harry was able to pick fairly easily. He slowly opened the door. The vents in his helmet let in enough air that Harry could detect cooking odors. He seemed to be in some sort of pantry. He moved slowly forward and encountered another closed door. A quick check revealed no obvious sensors and no locks. Noises were evident on the other side of the door. Harry ever so gently began opening the door. He controlled his movements as if he were in the operating room working on someone's brain. Light began flooding into his area almost overwhelming the sensors in his helmet. Harry debated removing the helmet but decided he may yet need the infrared capability.

With the door now ajar about a foot, Harry peered around the corner. The door opened into a large kitchen area and at the far end someone was working. A late middle-aged black woman was adding flour to a large mixer. She was quite intent on what she was doing and the noise of the mixer would cover any sounds Harry made. There was another door almost midway between his position and the woman working. He debated his options. The easiest solution would be to simply take out the woman, but she was most certainly an innocent worker. She appeared to be concentrating hard on her baking and there was a good chance he could maneuver towards the other door without being seen.

The woman emptied the flour bag and turned toward Harry. Harry moved back behind the door but left it ajar so she would not see any movement. The sound amplification in his helmet picked up her footsteps moving his way. Harry drew his knife and stepped back into the pantry against the wall. There was no cover except for a broom leaning against the wall. He held the broom in front of his rigid frame and hoped it would be enough camouflage. The woman entered the pantry and flipped on the light switch. Harry held his breath as she walked past him and pulled another bag of flour from the shelf. She turned and walked out the door, flipping the switch off. Harry had watched her expression and she had not given any indication of alarm. He listened as she walked back to the other end of the kitchen and he could hear the flour bag being torn open.

Harry began breathing again. He should have taken her out; it would have simplified everything. Harry slowly opened the door again and peeked out. She was busy at her mixer concentrating on measuring ingredients. Harry surveyed the room again. Either exit back through the dog kennel or make his way to the other kitchen door. He moved carefully out through the door carrying the broom as portable camouflage. He slid sideways along the wall keeping his motion slow and smooth. With one eye at all times on the woman, he made his way to the doorway. As he neared the door, he could now see a bigger door on the far side of the counter where the woman was working. This would be the door leading to the dining area. He had no idea where the smaller door would lead. He visualized the blueprints which had shown the kitchen area connecting only to the dining area. Then he remembered that the garage was below the kitchen. This door may lead to a lower level.

Harry very slowly turned the knob and tried to open the door. It moved a little but became wedged. Pulling up on the knob to distort the door slightly, Harry pulled harder. The door gave way but not without a groan. The sound echoed in Harry's helmet. He glanced at the woman, but the sound must have been covered by the mixer noise because she didn't look up. Harry opened the door wide enough for him to enter. Before he could slide behind the door though, the woman turned toward him. Harry froze hiding behind his broom. The woman was obviously on autopilot; she walked to a cupboard and picked up a container of something and returned to her work without seeing Harry. Harry ever so slowly slid behind the door. He was now on a landing with the stairs leading down. He slowly closed the door behind himself to the point where it jammed. He listened but could hear no sounds other than the mixer. He realized he was still carrying the broom and he leaned it up against the wall.

Harry maneuvered down the stairway to another door, which was locked. He checked for magnetic sensors but found none. He worked on the lock and quickly picked it. Harry carefully opened the door towards himself and peered around the edge. His eyes were readjusting and the night vision compensated for the darkness. He was in an entryway of sorts with two doors leading in opposite directions. He spent a moment trying to orient himself based on the blueprints he had memorized. It seemed the door on the left should open to the garage, which meant the door on the right went somewhere else. Checking for sensors, Harry found two on the door to the right. He matched up the magnetic strength the best he could with his limited selection. The lock was much more complex, an industrial type deadbolt. Harry was getting frustrated with the lock, which refused to respond to his efforts. He stood up straight and stretched, and was reminded how much his feet hurt. He crouched back down and continued to work with his picks. Finally the cylinder released and he was able to turn the lock.

The door opened. The light came on and Harry froze. Temporarily blinded by his night vision goggles, Harry stayed in his crouched attack position. Nothing else happened; no obvious alarms were sounded. Harry moved into the hallway and closed the door behind him without engaging the lock. He scanned quickly for a security camera and saw it in the far corner of the room. There were two doors leading out of the room; one was locked. He chose it and began working on the lock with his picks, after having first placed his magnetic sensors. It felt as if the security camera was weighing him down. If anyone was monitoring the system he would be obvious. The lock was similar to the entry lock and he succeeded fairly quickly in opening it. He stepped through the door and closed it after first inserting some tape into the latch to prevent the lock from closing automatically.

He had entered a dimly lit hallway rich with carpeting and paintings. He slipped down the hallway looking for the elevator they expected. There was a stairway leading upwards but no obvious elevator. He began checking what appeared to be closet doors and found a set that were locked. Checking for sensors, he again found they were monitored, and placed his magnets. He picked the lock and opened the door. Hidden behind the closet doors was the elevator. He used his knife to pry the doors opened enough to insert his fingers. The doors gradually yielded to his pressure and he slid his head into the opening. The night vision goggles showed the elevator shaft descending at least three stories and the elevator car sitting two stories above. It was an electric elevator with cables. Without hesitation, Harry reached across the elevator shaft and grabbed hold of the cables, pulling the rest of his body through the closing elevator doors. He balanced on the 2 inch ledge inside the elevator shaft on the edge of his foot, while he leaned across the 4 foot shaft to hold the cable.

Harry felt the cable which was pretty smooth, but he knew there would be enough small broken strands to cut through his gloves as he slid down the cable. He wrapped his right leg around the cable and was about to descend but his left foot was stuck. The door had closed on the tail of the shoelace. He tugged with his leg but the shoelace held, and the pressure on his foot brought the pain of his blisters back to his consciousness. Holding onto the cable with his left hand, he removed his knife and sliced through the shoelace. Leaving the remnant was not ideal. But then nothing in this operation was. He began lowering himself hand-over-hand down the elevator cable.

He felt the vibration of the motor starting and knew someone had activated the elevator. Suddenly he was moving downward at a rapid clip. He tried to look down, but the night vision goggles had trouble focusing with the rapid movement. He knew there would be a large pulley at the bottom and tried to position his legs away from the cable hoping to miss the structure. He had no way of knowing which way the pulley would be facing but if he was caught between the pulley and the cable he would be torn up worse than the kids who used to put their hands in the old-fashioned ringer washers. Harry only had a few seconds to wait before he struck the elevator shaft floor. Even though his powerful legs acted as shock absorbers it was a hard landing. He instinctively released his hold on the cable and tried to regain his balance. His shoulder brushed against the rapidly moving cable and his wetsuit was shredded. The Kevlar covering was enough protection that he was able to bounce back without further injury, but it was a close call.

Harry had no sooner regained his balance than the cable stopped moving and then reversed. The counterweight began moving up which meant the car was moving down. The bottom of the shaft was solid and there was no escape door. He sensed the approaching elevator car. There was little room at the bottom of the shaft and Harry had to lay curled on the floor, around the emergency bumper, as the elevator car began stopping a foot above him. He could hear voices speaking in what sounded Arabic but could not make out what they were saying. The door opened and light streaked into the elevator shaft around the door gaskets. Harry reached up and touched the bottom of the elevator car. He could easily feel the vibrations of someone getting out of the car. They left the elevator with the door open and were gone for a few minutes - which seemed much longer to Harry pinned below the elevator car. Harry's racing heart gradually slowed. When they returned, Harry was able to understand a few of the words they said. He may not have been able to make much sense of the conversation, but the unmistakable sound of an ammo clip being slammed home into an AK-47 rang loud and clear. The elevator car started ascending and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Being pinned below the elevator at the bottom of a shaft was much too much like a solitary confinement cell.

Harry wasted no time. He pried open the elevator doors and climbed out of the elevator shaft. He found himself in a moderate sized room which contained armaments ranging from 9 mm Luger pistols to shoulder mounted rocket launchers. He helped himself to an AK-47 and several clips of ammo. There were no other rooms attached, so he returned to the elevator shaft. He again pried open the doors and pulled himself into the shaft. Climbing the cable to the next floor, he stabilized himself on the narrow ledge inside the door. While hanging on to the cable with one hand, Harry used his other hand and a foot to gradually pry the door open. When he had worked both feet into the opening, he let go of the cable and forced his way through the opening. He was now in a small hallway with three doors. He gently placed his helmet against the door closest to him and could hear the sounds of equipment. The next door was quiet, but the third door had the sound of someone breathing.

Harry tried the door but it was locked. He quickly scanned for sensors and found none. His frustration grew as he used his picks on the deadbolt without success. It seemed to take forever to work the lock, though it finally opened with a loud click. Harry readied the AK-47 and waited, but the breathing stayed regular on the other side of the door. Opening the door slowly, he stuck his head into a room which was only lit by a light from the adjacent bathroom. It looked like a small motel room with a single bed. Stepping into the room he closed the door, quietly keeping the latch from engaging.

With his gun at the ready he moved to the bed. The person sleeping appeared to be Angie. But he wasn't sure because the night vision system did not allow for color or significant detail. Scanning the room for cameras, Harry saw one in each of two corners. He instantly covered the camera with a translucent sheet to blur the image. He then moved to the bed and looked closer to make sure it was his wife. He gently shook her by the shoulder saying, "Angie, wake up."

Angie was aroused from her sleep by a mechanical voice that seemed to come from Darth Vader. As she opened her eyes, she could see only the outline of Harry's helmet leaning over her. Instinctively, she went into attack mode. She landed her first kick in Harry's midsection, knocking him back a step. Her next kick was aimed for his groin. Harry had already reacted and deflected the kick as he said, "Angie, it's me! Harry."

It sounded sort of like Harry. Angie froze in her attack position and responded, "Harry?"

"Honey, it's me. Let me open this face shield."

Harry was fumbling with the latches on the face shield but Angie realized it was really him. She went from attack mode to rescued mode immediately and jumped into his arms and began crying. All Harry could do was hold her, with his right hand still clutching the AK-47. After a few minutes Harry said, "We need to get going. Do you have any clothes?"

Angie let go of Harry's neck and quickly put on some clothes. In a couple of minutes they were ready. Angie asked, "How do we get out of here?"

Harry responded, "I'm afraid the security people know something is up. It might get rough. If we can make it to the lake, there's a boat waiting for us."

Angie said, "I think we're a couple of stories below ground. They have always used an elevator to bring me back and forth. The main entry is a grand stairway. Why is this happening?"

"Brain worms."

"What are you talking about, brain worms?"

"I'll explain later. Let's try and get out of here."

Harry began cutting the sheets with his knife to create a sling. He opened the door and with a quick look into the hallway, held the door open for Angie. Securing the door, they made their way to the elevator. He had Angie climb onto his back and rested her hips in a sling over his right shoulder. Over his left shoulder he carried the AK-47. Prying the elevator door open, Harry balanced on the slim ledge and reached across the narrow elevator shaft to grab the counterbalance cable. Carrying both their weights, he began climbing up the elevator cable trying to remember how many floors he had dropped when the elevator had activated before. Sweating profusely in his wetsuit, Harry hauled them hand-over-hand up the elevator shaft.

By his count they had one more floor to go. Resting wasn't an option, so despite the burning in his arms they continued slowly up the cable. When Harry saw the shoelace still hanging out of the door he knew where he was. He climbed a few feet further until he could rest one foot on the narrow ledge. Holding the cable with only his left hand he reached across and pried the door open enough to get his fingers through. With a firm grip on one of the elevator doors he let go of the cable and pulled himself and Angie across the gulf of the elevator shaft. They were now perched by his toes on a 2 inch ledge. He inserted his other hand into the narrow opening and began prying open the elevator doors. As soon as they were able to squeeze through the spring-loaded doors they were met by four armed guards with their rifles aimed at them. Another man held a pistol to José's head.

Chapter 12

Harry slowly raised his arms. One of the guards spoke in good English, "Let the gun slide to the ground." "Now kick it toward me."

Doing as he was told, Harry considered fighting. But with Angie on his back and a gun to José's head, it really wasn't an option. The guard said, "Put the lady down." Harry had no sooner complied than two of the guards moved forward and patted him down confiscating his pistol and knife. One of the guards then planted a kick in Harry's midsection. It was a good kick but probably not enough to have taken Harry down. Harry collapsed however and Angie screamed. A door opened and a man dressed in silk pajamas and a robe entered the hallway. He spoke firmly in Arabic and the guard responded in a more subdued voice.

Angie recognized Dr. Ahmad and demanded, "Make them stop!"

Dr. Ahmad said a few more words in Arabic and then addressed Angie, "I apologize for my man. Apparently his cousin and your Harry had a previous encounter during his cousin's demise. I am assuming this is your Harry."

Angie nodded in the affirmative. Dr. Ahmad said, "Dr. Williams, I would have wished to have made your acquaintance under more welcoming circumstances. It would appear our security has been severely compromised. I must inconvenience you, your wife and friend for a while longer. We mean you no real harm." He turned to the guard and gave commands in Arabic before returning through the door from which he had previously entered. Harry's hands were tied behind his back, as were José's. Angie was left free of restraints, but the guards kept their guns pointed at them.

Angie helped Harry to a sitting position. He groaned as if in great pain and concentrated on trying to reposition the rectal probe by using only his sphincter muscles. The kick had partially dislodged the probe and Harry's squirming finally accomplished the complete reinsertion of the probe. Angie was fussing over him and Harry whispered, "I'm OK."

After several minutes of waiting, Harry opened his eyes and appeared to have recovered. He asked José what had happened. José simply said, "They have a submarine."

"A submarine?"

"That bridge abutment we thought was so overbuilt... It's a submarine docking station."

Any further conversation was stopped when a guard shouted, "No talking!" While they waited in silence, Harry thought about the drop-off they had found when their surveillance was interrupted by the fish catching José. It made sense to have a way of accessing the secure area without using the highly visible bridge. His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a helicopter approaching. It was a single rotor, turbine powered model almost certainly a Huey. At first Harry thought it must be military. But since no one seemed worried, it must be one of the civilian versions. The neighbors weren't going to be happy having a helicopter land at this hour. The copter had no sooner landed when the guards yelled at them to get up.

They were led into the garage area and out the opened doors. Harry's feet were sore enough that he had no trouble limping and moved quite slowly. One of the guards kept yelling at him to hurry up, but Harry ignored the order. A new looking helicopter was now sitting in the large drive area with its rotor winding down. It was one of the fancy civilian versions of the Huey. They told Harry to climb in and he proceeded to do so with apparent great effort. Angie helped him and Harry took advantage of the noise to tell her, "You need to know, I love you. We'll get out of this yet."

Harry took advantage of his slow-moving to scan the helicopter controls. They looked pretty standard - though a lot more electronic gizmos than he was used to. One of the guards directed him to an aft seat and he sat where directed. A second guard kept a gun pointed at him while the first guard tried to secure the shoulder straps and seat belt. Harry was just too big. And with his hands behind his back there was no way the shoulder harness was going to fit. They looped the shoulder straps through Harry's arms and used more duct tape to secure him to the seat. They again showed respect for Angie and had her secure herself. José was secured with tape while the guards stood at the ready.

They were busy loading crates into the cabin and Harry could see Dr. Ahmad directing the loading. They finished loading and Dr. Ahmad entered the helicopter which immediately powered up its rotor. They rose quickly. Harry watched the movement in relationship to the shore lights and was pretty sure they were moving straight north. They ascended to maybe 1500 feet before leveling off. It sounded like the engine was being pushed pretty hard. Harry lost his visual references and concentrated on keeping track of time. One of the guards placed a headset over his ears with the microphone positioned in front of his mouth. A similar headset was given to Angie. As soon as Angie's headset was positioned, Harry heard a voice speaking in very proper English, "Dr. Williams, can you hear me?"

Harry responded, "Loud and clear."

The voice continued, "I must apologize for not introducing myself earlier but your surprise appearance has disrupted our normal operations. I am Abram Ahmad. Since you have so completely violated my security system I would assume you already know that. Would you mind telling me how you found us?"

"The equipment in the genetics lab had done a partial backup before your people destroyed it. My friend traced the genetic sequence to a paper you had written. From there it was an educated guess."

"This would be your friend in Alaska?"

"Yup."

"Seems one of our people who was sent to retrieve my intellectual property sustained a head injury. Required some sort of brain surgery which was performed in a village without a hospital. I would assume you had something to do with that."

"He had a run in with a crowbar and developed a subdural hematoma. I performed a burr hole to relieve the pressure. It was a challenge operating with just a cordless drill."

Dr. Ahmad was quiet for a few minutes before saying, "Dr. Williams, you are a most remarkable man. In some ways I wish you had not kept that surgical specimen, but it is God's will that we meet. Your innocent action has produced an avalanche of consequences. I personally apologize for the stress this has caused to your wife and yourself. We will need to detain you for a little longer but we mean you no harm."

"Can I have my boots back?"

Harry watched Dr. Ahmad work a switch and talked to someone on a different circuit. After a brief conversation, Dr. Ahmad returned to their circuit and said, "It would seem your boots have been destroyed. Was there something special about the boots?"

Harry replied, "Just that they were very comfortable; my feet have been pretty sore since my walk in the desert."

Again Dr. Ahmad worked the communication switch and spoke with someone else. Even from the back seat, it was obvious the discussion was very animated and went on for several minutes. When Harry's circuit became active again, the strain in Dr. Ahmad's voice was obvious. Dr. Ahmad explained, "I have never meant you harm. Unfortunately, Oregon is a long way from my home and instructions seem to lose their clarity as the distance increases. My men exceeded their authority and I will need to deal with this issue. Being a military man you probably understand better than I the nature of field operations."

Harry asked, "How is it you were able to follow me?"

"My associates have spent years building up an information system which works through both public and private systems. I found it most interesting that your file includes lots of information about your medical career and your athletic career but almost nothing about your military career. Our sources in the military are pretty good and I would have thought our database would have been more complete. What did you do in the military?"

Harry replied, "I spent my eight years in the Navy."

"This much we know and your wife said you did some diving. Having witnessed firsthand your abilities, I would assume you spent time with the Navy SEALs. Would my assumption be correct?"

"Could be."

"Your period of service would coincide with the genocide against those of my faith in the Balkans. It is known by some that the special forces of the US military were instrumental in limiting the deaths of those who practiced my faith. Would you have been involved in those operations?"

"Maybe."

"It is difficult for me to understand how a world which is supposed to be civilized can tolerate such barbaric behavior. It is an obvious demonstration of the power of Satan in our world. I was never more proud to be an American than when our forces stepped in to stop the slaughter of these innocent people."

Harry responded, "I'm not sure you need to create a devil to explain mankind's actions. We're plenty capable of being nasty on our own. In every conflict there are always two sides to the story and I'm not sure anyone was completely innocent."

"You are a humanist then. Do you share your wife's beliefs in the teaching of John Calvin?"

"Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs and Angie is perfectly capable of maintaining her beliefs on her own. It would seem logical that higher powers exist in the universe, but I do not claim to understand them. The peace she finds in church I find in the wilderness."

Dr. Ahmad was quiet for a moment before responding, "Not until the death of my wife did I understand the message from God. My beliefs were quite similar to yours. I had no need for religion. Once my heart was opened, my world expanded greatly and the greatness of God is evident all around me. I would pray that this understanding may one day be yours also."

Before Harry could respond, Dr. Ahmad was interrupted and again switched communication channels. He spoke a moment to someone and the helicopter changed directions, all lighting was turned off. A brief glimpse of another helicopter followed the sudden turn. Harry knew they were now on a stealth run. He figured they were following a river because of the intermittent banking and low altitude. Only occasionally would he get a glimpse of a light in the distance. The multiple turns had long since disrupted his sense of direction and he had no idea where they were headed. Almost 30 minutes passed before their conversation resumed.

Dr. Ahmad announced, "Seems you must have had some more friends. My home was invaded by the police, accompanied by some national security people. They had a search warrant looking for you."

Harry responded, "I had heard the FBI was looking for me because some footprints were found outside Angie's parent's home. It would seem someone had fed them some information. Maybe they were following up on the lead."

"Dr. Williams, I would doubt very much the national security officers would be involved in a domestic matter. It would seem much more logical that your arrival preceding theirs is the relevant connection."

"Your point is well taken. Would it also not be logical for me to have left a message which would activate if I did not return in a given time? Seems like the game is about up."

"Oh, if only it were a game. Obviously our contingency planning will now have to be put into effect. The operation will of course go on, though you have made things more difficult. Do you have any other surprises waiting for me?"

Harry quipped, "Life is full of surprises, but it would appear it's your show now." He thought about the rectal probe and gently squeezed his buttocks to assure himself of its position. The range of the signal was limited. Hopefully, military monitors would pick the signal up at least intermittently. He looked over at Angie, who really wasn't big on flying anyway; there was nothing to see in the darkness. Harry wished he could at least hold her hand to reassure her. The pilot seemed to know what he was doing, and it was probably better that Angie couldn't see out and realize how low to the ground they were. The continuous banking had to be hard on her stomach though. Forward he could see the reddish glow from the instruments and what he thought were night vision goggles on the pilot.

For the better part of an hour they wound and wove, then finally leveled out. Harry could see no lights whatsoever. They now continued straight and level, but Harry could not get a clear enough view of the stars to figure out what direction they were going. He occasionally saw some reflections of starlight, so he figured they were flying over water at least occasionally. Dawn was at least an hour away.

Harry determined they had been flying for the better part of 2 hours when the helicopter began to slow. A circle of lights became visible. Nothing else could be seen in the darkness. The helicopter had no sooner landed when the lights outside were extinguished and the cabin lights inside the helicopter were turned on. Harry looked over at Angie who gave him a small strained smile. She looked a little green around the edges but otherwise OK.

One of the guards began undoing the duct tape which had restrained Harry in a not so gentle fashion. As soon as he was freed from the restraints, the doors opened and he was ordered out of the helicopter. He instinctively ducked his head as the rotor overhead spun down. One of the guards motioned him forward. A few lights on in the building provided enough illumination for Harry to make out a walkway. Moving slowly and limping more than he needed to, Harry appeared old and beaten.

The exhaust from the turbine engine covered up the smell of fall in the pine forest. It wasn't until Harry was well clear of the helicopter that he could detect the scent of the forest. He turned and looked back and could see several other people following him.

The guard prodded him with the rifle to keep moving. A reflection from the window lights extended on for quite a way - they must be adjacent to water. They were obviously up north in the lake country, but a two-hour helicopter ride could have them anywhere in northern Minnesota or Wisconsin and possibly even in Canada. The door was opened and Harry was directed into the hallway, then down several flights of stairs. He could hear the hum of machinery; it sounded like a generator running. A door was opened and he entered another hallway. The second guard was waiting with an open door. They spoke in Arabic and Harry was directed into the room by the point of the rifle barrel. He obeyed, and the second guard began removing the duct tape from Harry's hands. The first guard kept a few feet back with the rifle pointed straight at Harry. As soon as Harry's hands were free, the guard moved away and the door closed behind him with a loud click from the deadbolt.

Harry surveyed the room. It had a small bed and a sitting chair. One corner of the room sufficed as a bathroom. He scanned the room for a camera and was pretty sure it was in the simple overhead light fixture. By far and away the nicest prison cell he had ever been in. Pressing his ear against the door, Harry could hear voices and then another door was closed. After a few minutes, the voices returned. A speaker box in his room announced, "Stand to the rear of the room." After doing as he was told, his door was opened. The two guards were standing there with their semi automatic rifles pointed at his wife. One of the guards said simply, "Go."

Angie ran into Harry's arms. He had no sooner embraced her when the tears started. They stood quietly with Harry's massive arms gently surrounding her while the tears flowed. Only after several minutes was Angie able to say, "They said I can stay with you if you cooperated. What do they want?"

Harry said, "I'm not sure now. Let's sit down so I can take the weight off my feet and I'll tell you what I know."

"What's wrong with your feet anyway? You're limping. Are you okay?"

They sat on the bed and Harry summarized what had happened since the night he had performed the emergency surgery. He did leave out a few details about the actual conflict, though. Angie didn't need to know people had been dying because of these brain worms. She asked, "Why didn't you just give them their worms?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "At first I didn't know that's what they wanted. Then I suppose my stubbornness set in after they attacked me. When they kidnapped you, I just reacted. They should never have dragged you into this."

"What are we going to do now?"

"I would think getting some sleep should be our first priority."

Angie objected because there was no way she was going to sleep under these circumstances, but she knew Harry was probably right. Harry may have his nightmares, but falling asleep was never an issue for him. They pulled back the blanket and she nestled into his side with her head resting on his shoulder. Within just a few minutes Harry's gentle snoring began. She lay there with her mind racing, knowing sleep would be impossible. Just being next to Harry made her realize how much she loved this gentle giant. It must have been the rhythm of his breathing because gradually she relaxed and slipped into sleep also.

Angie was awakened by a tapping sensation. At first the noise seemed to fit into her dream. Gradually, though, she became aware of a distinct but irregular tapping sound. She could feel Harry's arm move ever so slightly with the louder taps. Without moving she whispered, "What are you doing?"

In a whisper Harry replied, "Talking to José, using prison code. Pretend you're still sleeping."

The tapping and scraping sounds continued and reminded Angie of the camping trip where the sound of mice chewing and scratching had kept her awake. She had tried to waken Harry and make him do something. He had aroused himself enough to identify the sound and instantly fell back asleep leaving her to worry by herself. It was the start of their first big argument. When morning finally came, she accused him of not really loving her because he didn't make the mice go away. Lying there listening to the sounds now made the previous episode seem so foolish, but at the time it was a major thing. She wondered what Harry and his friend were talking about. She tried to discern some meaning from the sounds. Other than detecting a rhythm of sorts they had no significance for her. She tried organizing the rhythm into a melody which she began to quietly hum. Her concentration was interrupted when the speaker box in the room activated with a crackle.

Chapter 13

A voice said, "Dr. Williams, I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation but we have an urgent medical matter. I was hoping you would be willing to use your medical gifts to help."

Harry responded, "What sort of medical matter?"

"We have a man who has lost consciousness and is seizing."

"Another complication of your brain worms?" Angie stiffened noticeably with his reply and he saw the look of consternation on her face.

The voice replied, "Quite possibly, but someone in the need of medical care nonetheless. Are you willing to help?"

"Yes, but my wife comes with."

"As you wish."

The crackling sound indicated their conversation was over. Angie asked, "What are you talking about? Brain worms?"

Harry gently replied, "It's a long story. In short, our host has genetically engineered these brain worms and inserted them into his people. I innocently kept a couple to show my patient and that's what started our trouble. They have gone to a lot of effort to keep this secret."

"You mean this whole thing is about worms eating someone's brain?"

Harry tried to explain, "The worms don't actually eat the brain; they secrete chemicals which control emotions. Somehow Ahmad has learned to control the secretion of the chemicals which gives them control of the person."

"But why would they do that?"

"Controlling a soldier's emotions would be a powerful weapon. Armies have always tried to indirectly do this. Now the soldier is being directly controlled."

"I thought he was a scientist. Why does he need soldiers?"

"That is the $50 question."

Angie responded, "He is such a gentle man. It doesn't seem possible that he would do this to people."

Harry looked questioningly at his wife before replying, "I think our Dr. Ahmad has more than one side to him. The side I've witnessed hasn't been gentle."

"You mean he's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

Harry had to smile at the analogy before saying, "I would think maybe that's a little too strong. More like we're seeing different aspects of someone on a mission who presents only those aspects needed to accomplish what needs to be accomplished. I doubt he would let much come between him and his mission - whatever that is."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of someone approaching in the hallway and the distinct sound of a key working the lock. The door opened to reveal two uniformed men carrying automatic weapons. They had an air of competency about them and their weapons were both aimed at his wife. The more senior appearing one said, "Come."

As Harry stepped through the door, the soldiers stepped back keeping a little distance between them and Harry's reach. They weren't going to give him an opportunity. While they moved toward the elevator, Harry leaned towards Angie and whispered, "If I say Alamo, raise a ruckus."

The guard growled, "No talking."

The hallway was about 50 feet long, pocked with several doors secured with deadbolt locks. An elevator near the end waited with open doors. The guard motioned them in and closed the door, obviously not wanting to be in such a small space with Harry. The door had no sooner closed when Harry asked Angie if she had a pin. Angie removed one of her hairpins and Harry immediately began working with the emergency stop lock on the elevator. The elevator moved upwards, then stopped as Harry successfully turned the lock. He pried open the elevator door. They were only a few feet shy of the next floor. Using his feet to prop the car doors open, he pried apart the outer doors using his powerful fingers.

His plan changed when he saw Dr. Ahmad looking at him in surprise. The two guards had already leveled their automatic weapons at him. Harry said, "Seems your elevator isn't working right."

Dr. Ahmad had recovered his composure and said, "Dr. Williams, it would seem my elevators are a special attraction to you and they seem to work fine when you're not involved. It would be best if we got on with our work. You can play with the elevators later."

One of the guards said, "Have the lady climb out first."

Harry told Angie, "Climb up over my back. I'll hold the doors open."

Angie did as directed and had no sooner regained her feet when one of the guards pointed his automatic rifle at her and the other guard said, "Now you climb out. No tricks or the lady dies."

Harry obeyed. As he clambered through the doorway though, the elevator doors closed on his left foot and he had to twist it through. His still unhealed blisters flared and he let out a groan. Angie, startled at the painful sound, moved forward to help Harry. The guards shouted in Arabic and Dr. Ahmad cautioned, "Mrs. Williams, please don't move."

Angie responded, "But, Harry is hurt."

Harry had already recovered and proceeded to pull himself through the outer doors. Dr. Ahmad asked, "Dr. Williams, are you all right?"

Harry said, "The door scraped the blisters I developed with my stroll through the desert. I'll be okay."

The guards moved back a step, giving themselves a little more room and separating Harry from Dr. Ahmad. Dr. Ahmad said, "The patient is in our infirmary straight ahead. He began complaining of headaches a few days ago followed by dizziness and loss of appetite. Yesterday he developed incontinence and lethargy. He began having seizures shortly after we arrived."

"Sounds like obstructive hydrocephalus. Pretty similar to the other guy I saw with your brain worms. I suppose this patient also benefited from your experiment?"

"Dr. Williams, the progress of science is always associated with some cost. We had predicted a 1% complication rate and it is only slightly higher than that. With refinement of our technique I would expect this complication rate to decrease significantly. For now this patient needs your help."

"Lead on; I'll do what I can."

The infirmary consisted of a well-equipped treatment room and an adjacent two bed recovery area. In one of the beds, a young Middle Eastern man was attended by a middle-aged woman in nurse's uniform. She was trying to place an IV in the man's arm. His arms were partially restrained, but ongoing seizures were making her task impossible. Harry stepped forward and fully restrained the patient's arm, allowing the nurse to finally get the IV needle inserted and secured in place. The nurse nodded in appreciation and began injecting medication into the IV tubing.

Harry asked, "Valium?"

The nurse responded in Arabic and Harry looked at Dr. Ahmad for a translation, but he was talking to one of the guards and not paying attention. Harry picked up the bottle. Although the writing was in Arabic, the chemical name was duplicated in English: diazepam. He asked the nurse, "How much?"

She looked puzzled momentarily but responded in broken English, "5 mg."

Harry shook his head and held up both hands with his fingers spread and said, "10 mg."

The nurse nodded and drew up some more of the medication and injected it into the IV line. The seizures began to soften; the patient remained unresponsive, but his violent thrusting against the restraints was reduced to an ongoing trembling. Harry tried to examine the patient. Other than noting the stiffness of his neck there wasn't much to examine. Pulling open the eyelids revealed dilated pupils with significant random motion. Harry used an ophthalmic scope to look at the back of the eye for the telltale sign of edema of the optic nerve, but the eye motions made it impossible. Using the handle of the reflex hammer he stroked the bottom of the man's foot and watched the toes. The toes straightened upwards instead of flexing as they normally would, a positive Babinski sign. The patient's breathing was somewhat irregular with pauses followed by rapid breaths, but the lungs were clear and the heartbeat regular and strong.

Harry stepped back from the bed and turned again to Dr. Ahmad. Dr. Ahmad asked his opinion and Harry said, "Moderate obstructive hydrocephalus with early compression of the brainstem. He needs to be evacuated for immediate surgery to decompress the brain."

"And if that is not possible?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "Progressive compression of the brainstem and death."

Dr. Ahmad asked, "What timeframe are we talking about? Can it be delayed medically?"

Harry explained, "High-dose steroids will buy a little time. But if he does not get to surgery in the next couple of hours there won't be much left to save."

Dr. Ahmad looked thoughtful and a bit sad when he explained, "It will be almost 12 hours from now before he can be evacuated. He's a good young man with a strong interest in religious study; a shame to lose him, but if it is God's will, so be it."

Angie spoke up with a sense of bewilderment, "You have a helicopter, why can't you get him to the hospital?"

Dr. Ahmad turned towards her saying, "If only I was free to do as you suggest... However, our commitment to the work of God comes first. The life of one, though important, must never take precedence over the well-being of the many. Our inspired work of God must be brought to completion, if we are to save this great country of ours."

Angie turned toward Harry, "This doesn't make sense. This young man, he's hardly more than a boy, is going to die. Isn't there anything you can do?"

Harry said, "If I had an MRI scan and my surgical equipment it would be a simple thing to drain off the excess fluid. Operating without proper equipment and an MRI scan would be dangerous and I could end up killing the patient. Our host needs to get him to the hospital."

Angie looked at Dr. Ahmad, who responded by frowning and saying, "If it is God's will, he will survive. Otherwise his reward is already waiting for him in heaven. If your husband is unable to help here, then all I can do is offer up my prayers."

Angie looked from Dr. Ahmad to Harry. They both appeared resolute. She finally said, "Harry, please help this young man. I'm not sure what game you two are playing, but I don't want to see him die. Please, do it for me."

Harry was quiet for a minute before saying, "I could try to insert a small drain catheter to relieve the pressure. Without imaging studies it will be completely blind. But it may buy him the 12 hours he needs so he can be transported to a real hospital."

Angie reached over and took Harry's hand. Her delicate fingers felt lost in Harry's huge grip. Dr. Ahmad acknowledged the response with a slight nod of his head and said, "Dr. Williams, we appreciate your efforts. Your good Samaritan act will be rewarded. What supplies and equipment do you need?"

Harry said, "What I would like is a real hospital, but what I need are some basic surgical instruments, a drill and a sterile catheter."

Dr. Ahmad spoke to the nurse in Arabic and after a few minutes of discussion told Harry, "We have something called a laceration tray and IV supplies, but the only drill we would have would be in our shop. My nurse wanted to know what type of catheter you wanted?"

Harry thought for a minute before saying, "It needs to be about 3 inches long. Either a subclavian catheter or a spinal tap catheter would work. We can make one of the battery-powered drills work but I will need at least a half inch bit."

Dr. Ahmad again spoke to the nurse in Arabic. After several minutes of discussion she brought forth a variety of needle catheter units most of which were too short. Harry selected one he thought would be long enough. He said, "We need to shave his head and prep it with something. Do you have any injectable steroids?"

Before Dr. Ahmad answered, they were interrupted by a guard who began speaking excitedly to Dr. Ahmad in Arabic. Dr. Ahmad listened intently and gave a short reply before telling Harry, "I will leave this work to you. Other things need my attention. I pray that God's hand guides your work. The guards will of course keep watch."

Dr. Ahmad left before Harry could even reply. The two remaining guards moved back against the walls and kept their weapons pointed at them. The guards obviously had some professional training and were not taking any chances. Angie asked, "Harry, what can I do to help?"

Harry said, "I'll need your help holding things and handing the instruments to me. Sure wish this nurse spoke English. Maybe you can try communicating with her. We need to shave his head and wash it."

Angie began playing a game of charades with the nurse indicating their desire to shave the head. It took a minute for the nurse to relate Angie's finger motions of scissors and shaving to the surgical preparation of the patient. She became excited when she realized they were proposing to operate and immediately went to a cupboard returning with scissors, a razor and surgical prep soap. Harry pointed to the right part of the skull and the nurse immediately began trimming the hair. Harry interrupted by saying, "I need some steroids; ask her if she has any IV medications."

Angie was at a loss on how to relay the question until Harry pretended to inject his arm. The nurse looked confused until Angie repeated the motion into the patient's IV line. The nurse responded in Arabic which just added to the confusion. Angie pretended to hold up different bottles and repeated the motion of injecting into the IV line. The nurse nodded and opened up a locked drawer. Harry began looking through the medicine collection. The main labels were all in Arabic but the chemical name was listed in fine print in English. Harry identified some lidocaine for anesthesia and found a small vial of dexamethasone, but it was the suspension and designed for joint injections. He wasn't sure of the dosage but figured it would be impossible to give too much. He scrounged around looking for syringes. The nurse looked up from her surgical prep and pointed at a cupboard. Harry opened the cupboard and found a nice assortment of syringes.

Harry drew up the entire vial of dexamethasone and injected it into the patient's right shoulder muscle. He would have much preferred the soluble form so he could have given it intravenously; the suspension form would help, but worked much slower than the IV form. The lidocaine was 2% strength and would work fairly well for local anesthesia. Harry drew up 20 cc in a syringe and after the right scalp was shaved, he injected an elliptical area 3 inches across with the anesthetic agent. He then made scrubbing motions with his hands over the scalp. The nurse nodded and began washing the patient's shaved scalp with the surgical prep solution.

Harry began opening cupboards searching for surgical supplies. The nurse looked up and said something in Arabic. Harry made the motion of cutting with a scalpel and sewing. The nurse pointed to the cabinets at the end of the room. Harry opened the doors and found several laceration trays. There were a few miscellaneous instruments and a small selection of sutures. Harry took one of the trays and a few of the sutures and placed them on the small table next to the bed. He went back and looked for some sterile towels or drapes. They were in a lower cupboard. He chose several and added them to his collection. The cupboard doors and drawers were pretty much all open by now and Harry still hadn't found any scalpels.

Angie asked, "What else do you need?"

"I need a damn scalpel! I can't just chew through this patient's scalp! This should be done in a hospital with real equipment."

Angie and the nurse looked at each other and Angie tried to imitate the cutting action of a knife. The nurse nodded and held her soapy hands high as she walked over by Harry and pointed at a box sitting out in the open right in front of Harry. Harry picked up the box and recognized the scalpels. He mumbled a thank you and the nurse went back to finish scrubbing the patient's scalp. Another cuss word escaped from Harry's mouth when he dropped the box of scalpels. As he bent over to pick them up, he palmed one of them and slid it inside his stocking. He placed the box back in the cupboard and added the scalpel to this instrument collection.

Turning towards the guards Harry bellowed, "Where is the damn drill I asked for? I can't operate without it!"

One of the guards began talking into a small radio. There was a knock on the door and the guards assumed a more ready posture as they opened the door. A boy entered the room carrying a battery-powered drill and a box of drill bits. The guard spoke to him in Arabic and the boy turned and looked at Harry with a wide-eyed look of anxiety. The boy slowly walked towards Harry and handed him the tools. Harry had no sooner accepted the tools when the boy almost ran from the room. The guards kept their automatic rifles pointed at Harry the whole time.

Ignoring the situation, Harry looked through the drill bits and picked out the largest one which was less than a half-inch. He took the bit to the sink and began scrubbing it with soap and water. After satisfying himself that it was reasonably clean, he opened a bottle of alcohol and dropped the bit in trying to sterilize it. He washed his own hands and then tried to fit into the sterile gloves, but it was hopeless. The gloves must have been ordered for the nurse and his huge hands were never going to fit without tearing the gloves apart. The nurse had already used some towels to drape the patient and was opening the surgical tray when Harry realized he would not have any cautery. He was mumbling to himself about how foolish this all was when Angie asked if he was all right.

"Yeah, I'm all right. It just isn't right to risk this man's life because of some grand plan to save our country... I'm talking like a doctor not a soldier. I have to wonder what our host has planned. He talks about saving our country but I bet there are a lot of folks who will disagree with his idea. Any idea what he is planning?

Angie replied, "At dinner one night, I can't remember when exactly, he talked about the evils of gambling and how he was risking everything to try and stop it. He seemed really sincere."

Their conversation was interrupted by Dr. Ahmad's voice over the intercom saying, "Dr. Williams, I will explain my intentions at dinner. How are things going?"

Harry responded, "I'm ready to start, but this really should be done at a hospital."

"What should be and what is, are frequently incompatible. I again thank you for your efforts and pray for guidance of your hands. I'll check back with you shortly."

Harry put off thinking about the bigger picture and concentrated on the present. He used the sterile drapes to cover the drill motor as best he could. He then palpated the patient's skull identifying the intersection between the frontal and temporal bones. Using his large finger to approximate the 2 cm he needed forward of the suture line, Harry picked a point straight above the right pupil and used the scalpel to cut through the scalp. He made his incision about 3 inches long and blood began immediately welling up. Trying to identify and grab the bleeding vessels with the poor quality instruments, which were normally found in laceration trays, was becoming a major annoyance and Harry mumbled under his breath repeatedly.

The nurse was watching and brought over a battery operated cautery unit. It was nothing more than a miniature soldering pencil, but it was effective in controlling the bleeding from the smaller vessels. After about 15 minutes of diligent work, the bleeding was under good control.

Angie tried to help by blotting the blood with a gauze sponge but it was all she could do to concentrate. She had never watched Harry perform surgery before. Her queasiness was a combination of her artistic temperament and general anxiety. Harry had her pulling back the scalp with some clamp things so he could see better. Retreating into her music, she concentrated on humming a difficult musical score which forced her to control her breathing. Things were a little better until Harry picked up the drill and started drilling into the poor man's skull. Her humming became louder as she tried to block out the sound of the drill.

Harry looked over at his wife and asked, "You going to be okay?"

Angie tried to smile and said, "I think so. How do you know where to drill?"

Harry went back to drilling and answered over the noise, "It's an educated guess; our catheter is short, so I needed an approach which would match the catheter length. Sure would have been nice to have had a MRI scan."

Angie really wasn't listening and had already retreated into her music. She was on her third song before Harry put down the drill. She looked at the hole he had created in the man's skull and saw some white material at the bottom. She asked, "Is that his brain?"

"No, it's the durra, the brain covering. I'm going to try and advance the catheter without opening the durra. It'll be much safer if we don't have to open this lining."

Angie watched as Harry picked up a needle sort of thing about 3 inches long and began pushing it into the man's head. She had to ask, "Doesn't that hurt?"

Harry replied, "No, the brain doesn't actually have pain sensors, so it can't hurt."

The needle was now almost two thirds of the way gone as Harry slowly pushed it forward into the man's brain. He would push a little and then look to see if any fluid was draining out. Angie asked, "How will you know when you're in the right spot?"

Harry replied, "In the operating room we have equipment that shows you exactly where you are. Here it's just a guess until the fluid starts to flow."

The needle was pushed all the way in and still no fluid. A soft "damn" escaped from Harry as he withdrew the needle. Angie asked what was wrong. Harry explained, "I must have angled too far lateral. I'll change directions and try again."

Angie watched as Harry again advanced the needle slowly into the man's brain. She had a puzzled look on her face as she asked, "What happens to the brain when the needle goes in? Does he lose 1976 in one spot and 1984 in another?"

Harry continued advancing the needle in steps as he explained, "The needle does do a little damage, so I try to avoid the most sensitive areas of the brain. It's not that the frontal lobe isn't important; actually, we seem to function pretty well despite significant damage here. By contrast, in other parts of the brain even a pea size area of damage, can produce severe disability. The brain doesn't really work like a regular computer. It's more analog-like with only certain areas responding to different stimuli."

Angie found herself more intrigued by the surgery and was now leaning forward to get a better look at what Harry was doing. He had advanced the needle most of the way when fluid started running out of the needle. Harry responded with a simple, "Finally." The fluid didn't gush out, but a steady stream of drips was coming from the end. Angie tried to mop up the leaking fluid which had the texture of the sugar water she put in their hummingbird feeders at home. Harry very carefully slid the metal needle out from the plastic sheath that surrounded it.

Harry asked for the suture and Angie knew enough to hand him the threads he had laid out. When he asked for the needle driver Angie was uncertain. Harry pointed to a pliers-like instrument which Angie handed him. She watched as he most delicately pushed the needle just under the white shiny layer and out again. The instrument seemed almost like a toy in his big hands. His strong fingers gently tied a series of knots around the plastic tube he had left inside the brain. Angie tried to keep the area clean by mopping up the fluid which kept dribbling out of the tube, but every time she tried, she seemed to get in Harry's way.

Harry finally said, "Don't worry about the fluid. It won't hurt anything."

Angie relaxed some and just cleaned up the fluid as it drained onto the young man's scalp. Harry asked for another suture, which she handed him, and he began sewing the scalp shut. It was kind of like the sewing her mother had taught her. He kept dividing the space in half with each new suture he put in. When he was finished the wound was closed with only the hub of the plastic tube sticking out. Harry spent a lot of time tying this hub securely to the skin of the scalp. He asked for an IV tubing but Angie was not sure what he meant.

Harry pointed at the tube leading into the man's arm and the nurse went to a cupboard and brought out a box. She opened it and Harry took out the clear tubing. He plugged one end into the hub sticking out of the man's scalp and attached the tubing with another suture. The nurse had a pretty good idea of what was next and already had bandage materials ready which Harry used to completely wrap the man's head. Harry stretched and said, "Well, we've done our best. Now all we can do is hope it was enough until they transfer him to a real hospital."

The fluid was now dripping out of the tube and Angie asked, "Shouldn't we collect the fluid?"

Harry responded, "I suppose it's going to make a mess."

He pointed to the plastic IV bag and after a minute of pantomime motions, the nurse understood and got Harry another bag of IV fluids. Harry exchanged the bag with the almost empty one draining into the man's arm. He emptied the remaining fluid into the sink and then plugged the end of the tube draining the man's brain into the bag.

Harry had no sooner finished when a voice came from the overhead speaker, "Dr. Williams, a job well done. We will transfer our man to a hospital as soon as possible. Your humanitarian efforts are much appreciated. I would ask that you and your wife join me for dinner."

Harry looked a little puzzled when he responded, "I could do with a bite to eat, but isn't it a bit early for dinner?"

The voice answered, "It would depend upon which time zone you were functioning in. The guards will escort you to our dining room."

Chapter 14

The guard by the door responded to the knocking by stepping back as he opened the door. A man dressed in some sort of military uniform armed with both a pistol and an automatic rifle spoke in Arabic. After a not too short conversation between the guards the man in uniform said in English, "You have time to freshen up. This way please."

Harry and Angie followed him through the door. The other guards followed close behind with their weapons at the ready. The scalpel Harry had hidden in his sock was rubbing against his ankle, not enough to cause pain but enough to remind him of its potential. They were shown to a small dressing room without windows. Hanging on a rack were several dresses and a suit of a dark blue material that looked like it might even fit Harry. The guard said, "We hope the clothes fit satisfactorily. You have 45 minutes before dinner."

The guard closed the door and there was a definite click of a lock being engaged. Harry and Angie walked over to where the clothes were hanging. The dresses all had a Middle Eastern flair to them. Angie picked up a blue and orange pattern dress and held it up against herself asking, "What do you think?"

Harry looked at the dress and his wife and said, "I think our captor is going to a lot of trouble and I'd like to know why." Harry was a little slow recognizing the look of frustration on his wife's face, but finally realized she'd asked a different question. He added, "I like you with bright colors on and it looks like the dress would fit. Why don't you try it on?"

Angie asked, "Do you think they have one of those cameras here?"

Harry quickly inspected the small room and spotted a camera in the base of the light fixture - possibly a second one in the bracket holding the mirror. He pointed to the camera and Angie said, "I can't change with them watching me."

Harry thought to himself how her room had most certainly been monitored but knew enough not to say anything. He repositioned the clothes rack and held the suit up against the light fixture to block the view of the camera. He said, "This should give us some privacy. You can go ahead and change."

Harry watched his wife undress and could not help admiring her good physical condition and intrinsic beauty. She pulled the brightly colored silk dress on and it draped over her curves quite nicely. She was a good-looking woman.

As Angie began fussing with her hair, Harry removed his operational clothes, which were now quite ripe. He maybe not so accidentally gave the camera a full "Mooning" as he stripped off the wetsuit. He sniffed his own underarms and said, "I sure could use a shower."

Angie said, "Looks like you'll have to settle for a spit bath."

"Better than nothing. Have you seen a razor?"

Angie looked through the drawers in the vanity but found no razor. She finished fussing with her hair and stepped away from the sink telling Harry, "It's all yours. More towels in the second drawer on the left."

Harry stepped up to the sink which he filled with water and began taking his spit bath. He was not yet finished when a knock on the door startled them. The door opened partway and a razor was pushed through the opening. Then the door again closed with a click. Harry looked at the razor and said, "Ask and you shall receive."

Harry finished cleaning up and began dressing in the suit provided. It was expertly made but not quite finished. The material seemed to be a silk and wool blend. The pants were a little short and a little big around. The shirt was tight around the collar but otherwise fit well. The suit coat fit surprisingly well. Harry looked at the tie and put it back down. Angie asked, "Aren't you going to wear the tie?"

"Shirt is a bit tight. I would be more comfortable without it."

Angie replied, "I'm not sure what type of dinner this will be or the rules of dress, but I'm guessing you should wear the tie."

Harry grumbled, "Whoever heard of a prisoner having to wear a tie. None of this makes any sense." Harry put on the tie. For shoes he had to settle for his soft operational footwear, which wasn't all that bad since his feet were still bleeding some.

There was a knock on the door and a voice in good English asked, "Are you ready?"

Harry nonchalantly moved against the wall just in case someone would be foolish enough to enter the room. He nodded to Angie and she said, "Yes, we're ready."

They were giving him no opportunity to attack. The door was unlocked and only partially opened. The voice said, "This way."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and opened the door for Angie. Two young men dressed in formal attire and armed with automatic weapons met them in the hall. They were directed down the hallway toward a foyer. The artwork was stunning albeit slightly out of place in the rustic lodge setting with log walls. Across the foyer, a young man dressed in formal attire held open a large, beautifully carved wooden door. A bulge under his coat suggested he too was armed. They entered the room, which was paneled in rustic pine, and had a crystal chandelier hanging over a long table that appeared to be made from sections of logs. Dr. Ahmad was sitting at the end of the table and rose when they entered. He moved to the side and held a chair for Angie and motioned for Harry to sit across from her.

Smiling at Angie Dr. Ahmad said, "I hope the clothing was satisfactory. I must say the colors suit you well."

Angie wasn't sure how to respond, so Harry answered, "Our compliments to your tailor. A difficult task creating clothes without an opportunity to measure and fit first."

Dr. Ahmad replied, "My tailor has been with me now for several years and is quite satisfactory. The dresses were from my wife's collection. We did have to guess at your size which to say the least is unusual. I'm glad you find the clothes satisfactory."

While Dr. Ahmad was speaking a waiter discreetly placed a small wine glass in front of each of them and poured red wine from a decanter. Dr. Ahmad raised his glass and said, "A salute to you, Dr. Harry Williams, and your surgical skills. God has given you great gifts to heal."

Harry responded by lifting his glass towards Dr. Ahmad and taking a sip of the wine with Angie following his lead. It was an exceptionally good Cabernet and Harry savored the fullness of the flavors. Dr. Ahmad asked, "You approve of my wine selection?"

"An excellent choice. What is the vintage?"

Dr. Ahmad sipped on his wine before replying, "A Northern California selection from 1997; an exceptional year for California reds."

Harry took another sip before asking, "I thought the Teacher prohibited the use of alcohol?"

Dr. Ahmad responded, "As a general statement this is true. I suffer from high cholesterol and was advised to drink one or two glasses every day. I do choose to make my medicine as flavorful as possible. It is my God's will."

The conversation remained superficial as the many courses were served. It may have been the food or the presence of the rectal probe but Harry began to develop colonic spasms. Angie noticed his pale color and asked if he was OK. Dr. Ahmad could not but help notice the concern in her voice. Harry said, "I need to be excused for a minute."

Dr. Ahmad nodded to one of the attendants and the two guards who had escorted them to the room appeared; both well armed. Harry slid his chair back and moved toward the open door. He was escorted to a bathroom down the hall. They really did not need the guards because Harry's present call of nature took precedence over everything else. He had broken out in a sweat by the time he closed the bathroom door. He made no attempt to try and recover the probe figuring it had done its job. It was several minutes before Harry was again stable enough to return to the dinner.

Harry returned to the dining room to find a not so young man equipped with electronic detection gear surveying the dining room. Dr. Ahmad asked, "Dr. Williams, are you feeling better?"

Harry replied, "I apologize for the disruption but some things just can't wait."

Dr. Ahmad watched Harry as the electronic detection gear was used to scan him. Harry tolerated the scan but asked, "What's going on?"

Dr. Ahmad said, "My people have detected some electronic noise which they felt was coming from this room. I apologize for the inconvenience."

They finished their scan and Harry sat down. His appetite had only partially returned, so he did his best to enjoy the food. Dr. Ahmad asked, "Dr. Williams, I would hear some of your military experience."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "I was trained to do a job which I did. Not everything went perfect but I did my best."

Dr. Ahmad asked, "And this job you did is what convinced you to go into medicine?"

"I was exposed to a side of life which was not very pleasant. Medicine seemed a way to help wash the ugliness off."

"Has medicine given you the peace you sought?"

"Mostly it has. At times the demands are high and it has interfered with those other things in life I cherish."

Both Dr. Ahmad and Harry instinctively looked at Angie who could not help but blush with the sudden attention. She kept quiet. Dr. Ahmad then asked, "Did you feel this conversion to medicine was a gift of your God?"

Harry did not respond at first and had a faraway look on his face. He finally said, "When things were not going well, I questioned the meaning of life and the existence of a God. It was a short time but quite intense. I never came to peace with the issue. I guess I tend towards the beliefs of the Gnostics; an unknowable God and people who are capable of being evil on their own without the need for a devil."

Dr. Ahmad had a surprised tone to his voice when he asked, "You believe in the Gnostic's myths of a creation?"

Harry laughed and replied, "No, I'm quite happy with evolutionary theory. I suppose a universe as large and old as ours may allow for some interference by outside forces - although I wouldn't know what they were."

Their conversation was interrupted by waiters serving the main course: an exquisitely prepared leg of lamb. Not Angie's favorite normally. But when asked, she had to admit, "It is quite delightful."

Harry complemented the chef, "This is the finest lamb I have ever eaten." He continued, "My previous experience as a prisoner did not include such fare."

Harry's comment made Dr. Ahmad wince ever so slightly before he replied, "Dr. Williams, I would much prefer to think of us as colleagues who have not yet realized our mutual interest and goals. Our interest in science and the betterment of mankind link us together even though our immediate objectives may differ."

Harry seemed much too interested in devouring what remained of the lamb to reply. Angie asked, "I thought you were going to make a statement about the evils of gambling?"

Dr. Ahmad smiled gently at Angie before saying, "It is true that my God has given me the task of reforming our great country. A heavy burden and one that has forced me to delay my other work. This other work has great potential to relieve mankind of much suffering. It is this work which your Harry is so well suited to continue."

Harry seemed to ignore the conversation and concentrated on cleaning the bone of any remaining morsels of meat. Angie asked, "It seems whatever you are planning has a great risk which caused you to separate yourself from your own children. Would it not be better to keep your family intact and concentrate on your other work? I would think your children need you more than ever since the death of your wife."

"Sage advice and I only wish it could be so. God's will, not my will."

Harry finally put the bone down and said, "That was awfully good. I am supposing that you think your brain worms could be further modified to produce other neurotransmitters. If the proper neurotransmitter could be secreted in a controlled fashion, control of Parkinson's and other neurologic diseases would be possible."

Dr. Ahmad's face beamed with excitement as he added, "Strategically placed units would secrete the appropriate neurotransmitter for a couple of years and then just harmlessly disappear. Just think of the potential. Even depression and other psychiatric diseases might respond. Rather than forcing people to take medicine with harmful side effects, we could produce the right chemical in the right place and have good control of the secretion. It will be the greatest advance in medicine in a longtime."

Harry looked thoughtful as he replied, "Controlling the secretion from the cyst would seem to be the key."

Dr. Ahmad's eyes lit up as he explained, "Nanoparticles incorporated into the cyst wall can regulate the secretion. These particles can, in turn, be controlled by either a radiofrequency or chemical agents. These miniature biological factories can be made to vary their secretion rate from essentially nothing to a biological maximum with a fairly fine degree of accuracy."

"What keeps the host from reacting with the cyst?"

"It is either the design of God or your evolutionary development which causes the host to ignore this cyst until it dies. When it is no longer active it does produce some inflammation and is reabsorbed by the body. A most wonderful system."

Harry asked, "Could these nanoparticles in the cyst wall be made to respond to glucose levels?"

Dr. Ahmad looked thoughtful before replying, "I have not worked with glucose specifically and it is a much smaller molecule than those I have worked with. It may be easier to genetically alter the worms to make them more responsive to glucose. Making them secrete insulin would be fairly easy. They incorporate human genes fairly well. You're thinking of a treatment for diabetes?"

"A computer-controlled method of secreting insulin has been the Holy Grail in medicine for the past 20 years with success always a few years away. Maybe we should be looking at a biological method. Since these parasites evolved to be part of us maybe using them medically would make sense."

Angie had been listening to the medical discussion trying to understand what they were talking about. She finally interrupted and asked, "Are you talking about injecting worms into people to control their diabetes?"

Dr. Ahmad was taken back slightly by the angst in her voice. He responded, "They're not really like the parasitic worms you are imagining, but more like genetically engineered miniature factories."

Angie shuddered and said, "I'm not sure I could let someone inject worms into me even if it was for my own good."

Harry laughed heartily and said, "I hadn't thought of it from the patient's viewpoint. It does sound sort of gross. Research teams are already using intestinal worms to modify our immune systems, especially for colitis. I would expect someone with Parkinson's disease who could control their disease by having one of these brain worms injected into their brains might disagree with you."

Angie shook her head saying, "The thought of one of these worms crawling around in my brain and eating me from the inside is too much."

Dr. Ahmad objected, "These are the larva form and produce Cysticercus which are immobile cysts. They don't eat anything but just absorb nutrients through the cyst wall."

A beautiful dessert of berries and yogurt was served which allowed Angie to change the subject. She asked, "When will you get to see your daughters again?"

Dr. Ahmad's face first seemed sad. Then a bright spark appeared as he replied, "If God wills, I will see their beautiful faces in two more days."

"They must miss you terribly. To lose their mother must have been hard and now to be separated from their father isn't good. The sooner you rejoin them the better."

"It is a hard path God has given me to follow. But once I received the gift of knowing him, doing his will I must. My separation from my daughters has been hard and the thought of separating from my country is also hard."

Harry had been listening to the conversation trying to make sense of what was going on. He asked, "This separation from your country would seem to mean that whatever your current work is, it will not be as well received as the potential work of treating Parkinson's disease or diabetes. Is this why you would like me to be your colleague?"

Dr. Ahmad responded," Dr. Williams, your insight is correct. My present work will probably prevent my return to this great country. I would like to see the potential of my work carried out and you would be an ideal person to do so."

There was a heavy silence before Harry responded, "Your work has great potential especially for treating neurological diseases. Before I could commit to carry on your work I need to know more about it."

It was now Dr. Ahmad's turn to reflect quietly before responding, "Dr. Williams, you have stated that you choose not to believe in the devil as an entity. I know differently. It was not until God opened my eyes that I became aware of this existence and the danger it represents. This evil is intent on destroying all that is good in this country of ours. It is my most sacred obligation to make a statement that will open the eyes of my countrymen to this great evil."

Harry was silent, not knowing what to make of this intense proclamation. Angie, sensing his confusion, suggested, "Because Harry doesn't understand your concept of the devil, maybe you should elaborate on his works."

"The devil has chosen to destroy our families and our society by promoting gambling. We have been deceived into believing gambling is a harmless pastime. Not only do we allow our people to gamble away the money needed by their families but we also have chosen to use the ill-gotten gains of this sin to fund the education of our children. The use of lottery funds for school funding is the epitome of our degradation and induced by the devil."

Harry asked, "You see the devil as an active entity of evil which is influencing us here on earth?"

"He is the Lord of this world trying to deter us from service to God. The Christian concept of the devil is not so dissimilar."

"I had read that Dante's Divine Comedy, which is the basis of most Christians understanding of the devil, is taken directly from our religious writings. I am not sure there is much biblical support for the concept of the devil as an evil entity. Seems to me most of the references are subject to significant interpretation. The name Lucifer, for instance, was a Latin word for Venus and probably referred to the Babylonian king. Certainly the Old Testament concept of Satan as the tempter is dramatically different."

Dr. Ahmad smiled before saying, "Dr. Williams, your knowledge and insight of theology is a pleasant surprise. I would not have assumed such an interest in someone of your background. You are of course correct in your understanding and most of the theology of the devil is oral tradition. But this oral tradition is based on an ancient text which is important both to your early Church fathers and the Teacher. Have you read the Book of Enoch?"

"I know only a little about it. It was an ancient text that was rediscovered in the late 18th century. Haven't read it."

Dr. Ahmad nodded before continuing, "Several sources are now available for this sacred document. Much Christian, as well as my religious thought, is actually based on this work. The true author is unknown, but it appears to predate Jesus by a few hundred years. It is often quoted by early Christian fathers but was never accepted into the Orthodox cannon of Christianity or Judaism."

Harry asked, "Sort of the holy grail of the devil, so to speak?"

"It is the most complete description of the devil and the rewards of heaven from the ancient writings. Other apocalyptic writings do exist such as your own book of Revelations. We have our own versions in our holy book. These writings seem to represent a theological argument to explain how evil can exist in a world with an all-powerful God."

"Seems like a big stretch of the teachings from the Hebrew Bible and even from the Gospels to create this cosmic battle. I think my friend may have had it right. His opinion was that shit happens."

Dr. Ahmad asked, "Could you explain further please?"

"I was working in a ghetto hospital and we had a young child dying of leukemia. He was a neat kid and tolerated all of our treatments with a pretty good sense of humor. My friend had a child of the same age. As we watched this young boy die a terrible death, my friend asked why this child suffered while his child was spared. This philosophical discussion carried over to a stop at the tavern on our way home. As we pulled into the parking lot, we both noticed a bumper sticker on the back of a rusted out junker of a car that read simply, "Shit Happens." We both laughed at the simplistic message. But after a couple of beers and a lot of talking we decided maybe the message was right."

Dr. Ahmad was thoughtful for a bit before responding, "Your bumper sticker theology would have made more sense to me before I discovered or was gifted with the discovery of the greatness of God. It is my hope that you too will someday be given the gift of faith and with it the understanding of the one true God."

Angie again changed the subject by asking, "If Harry agrees to continue your research will you let us go?"

Angie's simple question produced a heavy silence in the room. Dr. Ahmad's face displayed something akin to both anger and shame. He responded, "Mrs. Williams, I have never meant you or your husband any harm. I am truly sorry for having inconvenienced you both, but it has been God's will that our lives interact. Very shortly God's mission will be accomplished and you will be allowed to resume your lives."

Angie pushed harder asking, "It sounds like your mission is going to harm people. Why do you insist on hurting people when your research could be used to help people?"

Dr. Ahmad seemed more comfortable with this question and responded, "Both are for the good of mankind. Just as your husband must cause pain to heal someone with his surgery, my statement will cause some pain. But it will also allow this country of ours a chance to heal the cancer that is destroying it. Without our fighting the evil works of the devil, his strength will just increase and the suffering will be far greater."

Harry asked, "You have created your warriors by inoculating them with these brain worms, which are capable of producing a rage, to fight the works of the devil?"

Dr. Ahmad did not answer directly but just nodded. Harry continued, "How do you control the onset of the rage and the targeting of your now enraged warriors?"

"Targeting as you call it is a matter of proper training. Activation is dependent upon a messenger chemical stimulating the nanoparticles in the wall of the cysticercus. I have found pheromones to be most efficacious as messenger chemicals. Once the nanoparticles are activated secretion is quite rapid. A normal person is thereby transformed into the most deadly of warriors."

Harry said, "Pheromones would make sense. The vomer-nasal organ in the nose would transmit them directly to the frontal lobes where rage seems to originate. Very clever."

Angie was somewhat confused by the explanation and asked, "You are turning normal people into some sort of ninja warriors with these brain worms?"

Dr. Ahmad tried to explain, "Your Harry may be able to explain it better; however, I will try. You are familiar with the stories of some women using apparent superhuman strength to lift a car off a child or husband in order to save their lives. We all have this ability. But only in the most exceptional conditions can it be harnessed. I have created a system that enables the control of this ability."

Harry was quiet for a while before saying, "The capabilities you speak of have been apparently demonstrated by your agent in Arizona. It would appear that you have not yet gained perfect control."

Dr. Ahmad looked both surprised and embarrassed by Harry's comment. He responded, "You have knowledge of that unfortunate event. Our complication rate is within our expected outcomes. Ideally it would be reduced to near zero. Life is not yet perfect and we do our best." He changed the subject by asking, "Dr. Williams, are you willing to continue my work on the medical benefits of this discovery?"

Harry fidgeted for what seemed a long time before replying, "I think your work has great potential for helping mankind by treating some of the most difficult diseases. I would be willing to participate and carry forward this research, but only if you give up this current mission. You have created a weapon which will kill many innocent people and I cannot be a part of it."

Dr. Ahmad stiffened only slightly on hearing Harry's words. He turned to Angie and said, "God's will, not mine. Your Harry has decided. I cannot give up what I must do. Now you must decide. I give you the choice of coming with me and serving God or staying with your Harry. You are a princess who needs to be appreciated."

Hearing these words Harry rose to his feet. Simultaneously four guards appeared. Three of them had their weapons pointed at Harry, the fourth at Angie. Harry stared at the weapons and then slowly sat back down. Dr. Ahmad continued, "As you have implied, my daughters need a mother and I would choose you."

Angie stammered, "You want me to come with you?"

"You would be treated as a princess and never want for anything. You would have the respect of the people and could continue your music."

"But I want to stay with Harry."

Dr. Ahmad's appearance hardened noticeably and his voice was cold as he said, "You also have chosen. One cannot be forced to do the will of God, but I have tried to give you both the opportunity. I have met my obligation."

Dr. Ahmad nodded his head and the main door was opened. He arose but before departing said, "You will be released in 48 hours. Dr. Williams, you will be inoculated with a preparation which will ensure you do not continue to try and attempt disruption of my work. The larva will be injected intravenously. They have been engineered to produce a dopamine antagonist and the nanoparticles to respond to a very select radiofrequency. If something happens to me my followers have the radio transmitter to activate the nanoparticles."

Angie spoke up, "I thought you said you meant us no harm?"

Dr. Ahmad shrugged his shoulders and said, "Other than some mild muscle pain there is no harm as long as your Harry does not continue his war against me."

"But you're going to inject him with brain worms!"

Dr. Ahmad raised his voice slightly, "They are not brain worms. They are genetically modified larva which will produce harmless cysticercus. Harm will be done only if harm is done to me."

Angie protested, "But what if something happens to you and it's not Harry's fault?"

Dr. Ahmad was walking through the door and turned to respond, "The world is not perfect. Maybe you should pray to your God that I stay healthy."

Chapter 15

The guard who spoke good English appeared almost immediately after Dr. Ahmad left the room. He said, "If you cooperate, I am to release you in 48 hours. If you resist, you will both be eliminated. This way."

Angie was scared and asked Harry, "What are we going to do?"

"We are going to do as we're told. But remember the Alamo."

The guard almost shouted, "No talking!"

Harry stood and pulled back Angie's chair. They held hands as they left the dining room and returned to the sick bay as directed. The two waiters acted as additional guards, though still dressed in their formal attire, and looked quite comfortable carrying their automatic weapons. They kept sufficient space between themselves and Harry, not taking any chances. They arrived back at the infirmary and the leading guard opened the door. The nurse was still cleaning up. Harry's patient had been moved into one of the two recovery beds.

Harry said, "I should check the status of the patient."

The guard responded, "OK, but the lady stays here."

Harry walked over to the bed. The young man was no longer seizing but remained unconscious. His breathing seemed more regular and his pulse was strong. Harry lifted the eyelids one at a time and looked at the pupils. They still seemed somewhat large, but both were reactive to the light. The drain he had placed seemed to be working. Fluid still dripped into the bag which was about one third full. Not a bad surgical result considering the conditions. He asked the nurse, "Has he had any more Valium?"

The nurse looked confused and Harry returned to their pantomime by pretending to inject medicine into his arm. The nurse shook her head in the negative and responded in Arabic. Harry pretended to have a seizure and held up his five fingers and again pretended to inject into his arm. The nurse looked at him questioningly and held up the bottle of benzodiazepine. Harry nodded in the affirmative and the nurse reached for a syringe to give the medicine. Harry said, "No, not now. Only if he has another seizure."

The nurse again look confused and Harry turned back to the guard asking, "Can you tell her to administer the medicine only if he has another seizure?"

The guard spoke in Arabic and the nurse smiled and nodded in the affirmative. Harry gave her a thumbs up sign and returned to where Angie was waiting. They stood in silence for a few minutes until Harry complained to the guard, "I need to sit down because my feet are still sore."

The guard replied simply, "Sit."

Harry guided Angie to a couple of chairs in the waiting area and sat down. He allowed himself to settle into a watchful waiting mode. To Angie he seemed almost asleep. It was hard to visualize her impatient Harry waiting so calmly - especially when they were planning to inject him with worms. She wanted to talk. But looking up at the guard and the scowl on his face, she kept her silence. She thought of the tapping Harry had been doing in bed and wished she could do something like it to communicate. She decided to try an old game. With very subtle movements she drew the capital letter "I" on Harry's leg and then covered it with her hand. She then continued with a L-O-V-E and again covered it with her hand. Harry seemed oblivious but she continued with a Y-O-U and let her hand settle quietly over her writing.

Harry shifted slightly in his chair and his hand rested on her knee. With just subtle changes in pressure he replied L-U-V-U.

Angie was beaming inside. She was going to try some more writing when Harry stiffened noticeably and she perceived the sound of an airplane in the distance. Harry was concentrating hard on the sound. When he apparently recognized the type of plane, his body again relaxed into his state of watchful waiting. The airplane sound grew louder and changed pitch as it approached, landed on the water and taxied in. The sound suddenly quit as the craft was shut down. Silence had returned for only a couple of minutes before the door opened and Dr. Ahmad entered. Accompanying Dr. Ahmad was a middle-aged man of dark complexion, wearing a white lab coat with the label "Microbiology" on it. The man looked as if he had not slept in some time.

Dr. Ahmad's manner was brusque and he never looked directly at Angie. He said, "Dr. Williams, have you reconsidered?"

Harry replied, "Not much to reconsider."

"So be it then. My assistant has brought what is needed. We have not used this modification before, but the theory is sound. My assistant is nervous because as a researcher he has never worked on a human before but he is competent." After a short pause, Dr Ahmad continued, "If someone in my organization needs your help I would expect you to provide the assistance. Refusal would be as if you were harming me directly and would be justification for activating the cysticercus. Any questions?"

Angie flared, "But that's like blackmail!"

Dr. Ahmad ignored her comment and did not take his gaze from Harry. Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "Seems simple enough. Either I cooperate or you will produce a pseudo Parkinson's disease that could be fatal - or at least incapacitating enough to end my surgical career. You're not going to win any nice guy contest."

"Doing God's will is not a game. I do what I must and I gave you every opportunity to work as a colleague. You refused. Now you will experience Arab science as it again ascends to its rightful place in the forefront."

Dr. Ahmad began speaking in Arabic to the guard. The guard looked up at Angie and nodded his head. The conversation continued with Dr. Ahmad obviously giving orders. Dr. Ahmad then began talking with the man in the lab coat who said almost nothing in reply but nodded his head intermittently. It seemed obvious to Harry that Dr. Ahmad was giving very specific instructions which probably meant little good for him. The guards still dressed in their formal wear seemed to be paying as much attention to Dr. Ahmad as they were to him.

Harry began planning a trajectory to the nearest guard and shifted his position slightly to launch himself in attack. Just as he was about to push off, Dr. Ahmad pointed at him and the guard's attention was refocused in his direction. Harry let his body relax back to the state of watchful waiting. Their conversation in Arabic went on for several more minutes as final instructions were given.

Dr. Ahmad turned to Harry and Angie. He bowed ever so slightly in their direction saying, "I had hoped for a much different relationship, but God's will... Do as the guard says because I still mean you no harm. They have been instructed on your release if you cooperate, but no resistance will be tolerated."

Dr. Ahmad looked at Angie one last time as if to give her one last chance to change her mind. His intense gaze made her shudder inside, but she kept her external composure and returned the gaze. It was a wordless battle and finally Dr. Ahmad shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly before turning and leaving the room. Angie's emotions rose to the surface as a slight trembling although she said nothing.

The man in the white coat began preparing the treatment table by adding two arm extensions to the sides. He nodded at the guard who then said, "Lie down on the table. Any resistance will cause your elimination and the woman will be taken to our Doctor."

Harry arose slowly as if he were in great pain and moved to the treatment table. As he turned to lie down, he looked up at Angie and gave her a subtle wink of his right eye. Angie's emotions churned as she watched her Harry who had apparently become passive. The subtle wink implied hope, though, didn't it? Did it mean he still planned to resist? What was she to do? Why did he use the Alamo as a signal. Didn't they all die in that battle? What did the guard mean when he said she would be taken to their doctor? Were they planning to abduct her again? She never wanted to see Dr. Ahmad again. This wasn't her life; she was a musician.

Harry very much looked an old man as he slowly lay down on the table. Straps were placed on both of his arms and cinched down tightly. The guard spoke up in Arabic and the man in the white coat added a second strap to both of Harry's arms. The guards rearranged themselves into a rough triangle, with the military-appearing guard staying near the only window. One of the wait staff stood next to Angie and the other stood at the foot of the treatment table. All of their weapons were kept pointed at Harry.

Angie watched as the man in the white coat held up a small vial and carefully inserted a needle syringe into the top. He held the vial up the light to make sure he drained it completely. His hands had a noticeable tremor and he seemed extra careful as he put the needle guard back on the syringe. Setting the syringe on the counter, he picked up a rubber strap and worked it around Harry's left arm just above the elbow. With the strap reducing the blood flow back to Harry's heart, Harry's veins began to swell. The man poked Harry's arm with his finger trying to choose a vein to inject.

Even though Angie could see the veins in Harry's arms from across the room, the man just kept poking and fidgeting. Finally he seemed to select one and began wiping it with an alcohol sponge. The skin cleaning seemed to go on for at least a full minute. It seemed like a form of torture - taking so long to prepare the skin just to inject the brain worms that could end up killing Harry. The man's tremor seemed to get worse as he kept wiping the skin.

Putting down the alcohol sponge, the man picked up the syringe. Holding it upright, he flicked it with his finger to move all of the air bubbles to the top. Holding the syringe up to the light, he gradually advanced the plunger to remove a small amount of air. Beads of sweat broke across his forehead. Positioning himself on the exam stool, the man took the needle guard off the syringe and pointed it towards the vein he had selected. His tremor was severe enough that he had to rest his hand on Harry's arm. The beads of sweat were now rivers, and he stopped to mop his brow with the back of his arm.

As the now shaking hand returned to Harry's arm, the sound of a helicopter starting outside the window penetrated into the room. Everyone's attention was drawn to the sound. As the turbine wound up and caught, the guard nearest the window turned to watch. It was the opening Harry needed. With a violent contraction of his arm and chest muscles, he snapped the arm support boards free from the treatment table. The violent movement knocked the man in the white coat backwards and the syringe he was holding struck him in the chest. The needle penetrated to its hilt, and the inertia of his hand injected the contents into his own body. The man's screams were partially drowned out by Harry's yelling, "Alamo."

Harry's forward motion carried him off the table and launched him at the nearest guard. The guard's reaction was quick but not quick enough to overcome Harry's onslaught. Harry used the arm board still strapped tightly to his arm as a club, and struck the guard alongside the neck before he could raise his weapon. The guard fell and Harry tore the automatic weapon from his hand. As Harry's forward motion carried him toward the floor, the guard dressed in uniform responded and fired a burst at Harry. Harry held the metal arm boards in front of him like a shield, deflecting the few bullets accurately aimed at him. By the time Harry had hit the floor, the weapon in his hand was operational and returned a deadly burst at the guard. The inertia of the automatic weapon blast pushed the guard through the now shattered window.

Angie responded to Harry's yell with a fury she did not know she possessed. Her self-defense training, that she had taken only to please Harry, took over. She kicked violently towards the guard's groin from behind. The force was only partially effective but it was enough to disrupt his attempt to shoot at Harry. She jumped onto his back and began clawing at his eyes. The guard swung around trying to dislodge her, but she held on. Angie felt her head being jerked back as the guard grabbed her hair and pulled to dislodge her. Holding on to his face for all she was worth, she ignored the pain of her hair being pulled out and kept trying to gouge his eyes so he could not see to shoot Harry.

Angie wasn't sure she could hang on any longer when suddenly the man lurched backwards and she found herself in Harry's arms. Her enraged body had just begun to relax when she heard the nurse yell something in Arabic. The only word she understood was "Doctor." She and Harry both turned toward the sound, and Harry dropped into a combat position as he turned. The man in the lab coat had produced a gun. The nurse behind him tried to stop him from shooting by stabbing him with a syringe she had filled with Valium. The man turned his weapon on the nurse and fired point-blank at her before Harry could respond with a deadly burst from his weapon. The nurse never even had a chance to scream in pain because the chest wound had ruptured her heart. By the time Harry had crossed the room she had fallen silently, still holding the syringe. Harry felt for a pulse in her neck and then gently used his two fingers to close her eyelids.

Angie looked around the room in disbelief. There was blood and carnage everywhere. She stood still, in shock. Harry quickly ascertained that the two guards who were still dressed in formal wear were alive but unconscious. He used a piece of tape to secure their hands and feet, not taking any chances. The helicopter had taken off just before the shooting had begun and was just visible in the distance. Harry stared at it for a few seconds while calculating its direction. He then said, "I have to go get José. Can you guard the hallway?"

Angie replied, "Me? I don't know how. I want to stay with you."

"I'll only be gone for a minute or two. I need you to cover my back so we don't get trapped. You can handle it; you know how to use a gun. If anything moves, shoot at it. Okay?"

Angie nodded her head and Harry handed her one of the automatic rifles saying, "Don't worry about hitting anything. If something moves, just shoot. You should have at least 20 shots left. Stand here in the doorway so you can see both ways but still be protected by the wall."

The gun was much heavier than Angie had expected. She cradled the gun as Harry carefully looked both ways down the hallway before moving quickly to the elevator door. It seemed to take forever before the elevator opened. Then Harry was gone. Angie's heart was beating so hard she was sure the sound could be heard across the room. She glanced back into the room and could not believe her eyes which revealed such horrible carnage. She turned back to the hallway concentrating her attention there. Her ears picked up the sound before she saw the movement. Someone was coming and trying to be quiet.

Her tension level ratcheted up another step. She pressed herself against the wall with only her head poking into the hallway. The bright multicolored dress she was wearing was definitely not the best camouflage. Her eyes picked up movement and she responded by pulling the trigger of the weapon. The weapon became alive, unleashing noise and fire in its fury. Angie would have dropped the weapon except for Harry's admonition that he needed her to cover his back. The movement was gone. But for how long?

Angie heard a burst of gunfire coming from below. Now what was happening to Harry? How long could it take? Then the lights went out. The hallway became engulfed in darkness broken only by the light coming through the broken window. While her eyes were adapting the shadows seemed almost alive. She wanted to retreat into the room where there was some light, but she knew she needed to guard the hallway. The sound of a speedboat leaving at high speed penetrated into her world but she ignored it.

***

Dr. Ahmad sat silently lost in thought in his executive seat in the rear of the helicopter. The helicopter flew along just feet above the water staying far below any radar coverage. The route had been well-planned in advance. They had been traveling for 15 minutes and the pilot announced they had just crossed the Canadian border. They would arrive at the airport in Thunder Bay in less than a half-hour. His Citation IV jet was waiting and would depart immediately upon their arrival. The jet was fitted for transcontinental flight. Once airborne they would disappear as they followed a transpolar route to the Mideast. Everything was going according to plan. They would be out of radar range before his "Statement" was made by his holy warriors.

Dr. Ahmad could not get the vision of Angie playing the piano out of his mind. She seemed almost divine sitting there making music where his wife had sat. Suddenly he realized she was divine, having been sent by God as his reward for the sacrifices he had made in the war with Satan.

Dr. Ahmad broke his silence by telling the pilot, "We must go back."

The pilot would not have normally questioned an order from Dr. Ahmad, but a flight plan had been filed for the Citation. He said, "If we go back, we'll miss our departure time and may have to refile our flight plan."

Dr. Ahmad explained, "We cannot leave without the woman. What will be, will be."

The pilot responded by doing a 180° turn and heading back to the Lodge. As they approached the Lodge they could see a speedboat crossing the lake. The people in the boat were waving at them in warning, but Dr. Ahmad told the pilot to press on.

Sounds of an approaching helicopter broke the quiet and became gradually louder. Soon the helicopter sounded like it had landed and the engine kept running. Rescue finally? Angie felt hope.

***

The sound of a small piece of glass hitting the floor attracted Angie's attention and she turned to look back into the room. Someone was trying to climb through the broken window. She pulled the trigger again and the gun spewed forth its fury - the fire from the gun being even more evident in the partial darkness. The wall became splattered with multiple bullet holes and the person retreated back through the window. There were enemies everywhere and Angie couldn't decide whether to hide in the hallway or the room, so she stayed in the doorway somewhat exposed to both. She heard another noise in the hallway and pointed the gun ready to fire. Nothing.

Angie's attention became focused when she heard again the noise in the room. She turned her head and saw someone at the window. She turned the gun toward the window and pulled the trigger but nothing happened. She pulled even harder but still nothing happened. The man was coming in through the window. Angie squeezed the trigger hard, and still nothing happened. She then remembered Harry saying something about having 20 shots; surely she hadn't used all 20. She was frozen trying to figure out what was wrong. Suddenly one of the men who had left with Dr. Ahmad was standing next to her and jerked the gun from her grip. She tried to fight back but he used a roll of duct tape to secure her arms and legs. The man coming through the window helped the other and they simply carried Angie to the helicopter. She fought with the only tool she had left: her voice. She screamed long and loud for Harry.

Harry and José exited the elevator and Angie was gone. The sounds of the helicopter were intermixed with her distinct soprano scream. They rushed out of the hallway and through the entry. Guards were loading Angie into the helicopter which began to rise immediately. Harry raised his weapon and fired a burst at the tail rotor but it was a short burst. He was out of ammo. The helicopter continued to rise but pitched forward when the pilot tried to fly off at full power. Harry knew he had damaged the helicopter, though not enough to force it down. Now it was leaving with his wife as prisoner.

Harry said, "We need communication."

José responded, "Already checked telephone lines, dead."

Harry's mind was considering options when the float plane which had arrived earlier finally entered his consciousness. He told José, "See if you can find a working cell phone or transceiver. I'll see if the airplane that came in has a working radio. Seems like we don't have much time. We need to talk to Theodore and get a warning out ASAP."

José asked, "A warning to whom?"

Harry's face had a look of concentration on it before he replied, "This guy seems to have a major hang-up about gambling. I would expect his statement has something to do with the casinos. Maybe even with the lottery system. We'll have to leave that up to Theodore."

Harry didn't even wait for José to answer but headed out to the lake where a somewhat beat-up old-fashioned airplane on floats was tied to the dock. It was painted a classic red with an occasional patch of duct tape covering a tear in the fabric. The word "Beaver" was highlighted in white along the side. He moved at a loping run ignoring the complaints from his feet.

Chapter 16

Radhwan completed his midday prayers prostrate on his prayer rug, at peace with his God. As he carefully rolled up his prayer rug though, images of his mother and father berating him for not finding a job intruded upon his consciousness. He has been given a most sacred mission; the concerns of this life are irrelevant. How can he make them see this without violating his oath of secrecy? If they only knew the training he had received and the significance of the mission, they would support him; not badger him with petty details about his responsibilities as an adult. Just because his brother went to college is no reason why he should. Better to serve God than be concerned about the things of this world.

His inner argument was disrupted when his cell phone rang. It was the call he had been waiting for, his chance to truly serve God. He listened to the voice which gave him the secret code which would release the strength of God within him. Without hesitation he punched in the code given him and placed the antenna in his nose, inhaling deeply. A musty odor emanated, and he inhaled to his fullest. Even when the phone quit producing the vapor, he continued to breathe deeply trying to capture the essence of his God. Now the strength of God would grow within him, and his service to God would justify him to his parents.

Radhwan was methodical as he followed his training. Dismantling his phone, he disposed of the separate pieces in individual garbage containers. The car rental agency had a van waiting for him and he signed for it using his own name. He then made his way across Bullhead City being careful not to violate any traffic rules. He arrived at the safe house on the east side of town. The door key in the lockbox opened with the code he had been given during his training. He entered the house, which appeared empty. In the kitchen, Radhwan removed the third drawer to the left of the sink as prescribed. Under the drawer was an envelope. With his hands shaking slightly from excitement he opened the envelope and read the Arabic note. It was an invitation to a party at an address in Laughlin, Nevada. The party was to begin at 3:00 p.m., which meant he needed to leave by 2: 30. Time to wait for the power of God to develop.

***

The chemistry lecture on molar concentrations was pushing Faheem's ability to translate into his native Arabic. The technical words weren't so bad, but the professor seemed to mumble the regular words; English is such a complicated language. The phone in his pocket began to vibrate signaling a call. Faheem ignored it and tried to concentrate on the lecture. The phone kept vibrating and did not go to his voicemail. In frustration, Faheem took the phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. The caller was identified as "God's Voice."

At first Faheem was only able to stare at the phone screen. As the realization of his commitment crept in, however, he became more and more pale. The vibrating phone he held seemed to want to jump out of his hand and he needed both hands to stabilize it. He was noticeably trembling as he arose to leave the lecture. The chemistry professor looked at him and asked, "Young man, are you all right?"

Faheem answered in a quivering voice, "Yes... but I need to leave now."

By the time Faheem closed the door to the lecture hall he was perspiring heavily. He sat down on the floor in the hallway and looked at the phone which just kept vibrating. He pushed the answer button and held the phone to his ear; the voice was calm but forceful as it told him to punch in a code and inhale the power of God from the phone's antenna. All the talk of a most holy war suddenly seemed real. He had accepted the scholarship as a means of escaping the poverty of his homeland. He really wanted an education and rationalized that the religious war was just a concept. Now the time had come. If he refused the call he would most certainly lose his scholarship and be sent back to the squalor and poverty he had left. If he accepted the call, what would his life be worth? His previous decision had seemed so logical, but now the time had come to face consequences. Faheem's thoughts mixed with the doctor's discussion about how this religious war would reclaim for Arabic science its rightful place in the forefront. Anger welled up in him over those political inequalities that had deprived his family of opportunities. It was this anger, more than any religious fervor, which caused him to punch in the code and inhale a musty odor from the phone's antenna.

Faheem's decision had been made. He stood up and began walking out of the science building with his backpack full of books. He found his bicycle amongst the many and rode from the Mojave College campus toward the safe house across town. He wanted to call his new girlfriend, but his cell phone no longer worked. In frustration he threw it into a garbage container without bothering to dismantle it. His mind seemed to race with all of the things he had planned on doing with his life. His body, however, robotically followed the training and peddled on to the safe house. As he approached the house, he noticed a white van sitting in the driveway. His mind suddenly centered on the present. He drove his bicycle up to the small porch and, after dismounting, secured it to the porch with his locking cable.

Approaching the front door Faheem knocked somewhat hesitantly and then more forcefully. The door opened and an excited Radhwan assailed him with religious quotes. Faheem remembered Radhwan from some of the meetings as one of the illogical religious zealots. Why did they have to team him up with one of the kooks? Faheem wasn't sure what the plan was, but significant danger was almost certain. If he had any hope of surviving, logic and planning were essential; illogical belief in rewards after death made no sense. Faheem finally quieted Radhwan's religious monologue by asking, "Is there anything to eat?"

Radhwan responded, "No, Faheem. Why do we need food if the strength of our God is building within us?"

"Because I'm hungry." Faheem listened to Radhwan's explanation of why food was irrelevant and how they needed to concentrate on God's will. He again interrupted and asked, "Where's the next meeting point and what time do we need to be there?"

Radhwan handed him the invitation and Faheem looked at his watch before saying, "Let's leave now so we will have time to stop for some food."

Radhwan began to complain that they weren't supposed to leave until 2:30. But when Faheem picked up the keys from the counter and started toward the door Radhwan said, "I guess we could leave a little early."

Faheem just shook his head as he walked through the door and opened the van. Radhwan seemed to take forever to lock the house and restore the key to the lockbox. He then began complaining that it was his job to drive. In frustration Faheem threw the keys at him and walked around to the passenger side of the van. As Radhwan got behind the wheel, Faheem said, "Stop at the McDonald's on the right by the Wal-Mart store just before we get to the bridge highway and don't hit anybody."

Radhwan drove slowly, being extra careful at each intersection. He was driving like a little old lady and it only added to Faheem's frustration. They didn't speak at all until they pulled into the McDonald's parking lot. Radhwan again began to recite his religious quotes as to why food wasn't important. Faheem wasn't having any of it. He cut the sermon short by saying, "I'm hungry and if our God didn't want me to eat, He wouldn't have made me hungry. If you don't want to eat that's your business, but I see no reason to starve."

Faheem entered the McDonald's and pulled out his wallet to check for money. He had a lone $20 bill. He decided to go for it and ordered $20 worth of hamburgers, fries and drinks. When the cashier handed him his $.75 in change, Faheem dropped it into the charity box figuring he would have no use for it. He carried the heavily laden tray to a table and started eating. Radhwan entered and sat across from him and began eyeing the food. Faheem rolled his eyes. Without saying anything, he pushed a hamburger and fries towards Radhwan. Radhwan initially shook his head in the negative, then shrugged his shoulders and began eating the hamburger. Faheem ate with determination. Despite his best intentions, he wasn't able to finish all the food. Radhwan ate the single hamburger and most of the fries, periodically checking his watch. At 2:30 he proclaimed, "Time to go."

Faheem arose. Saying nothing, he began clearing the table and depositing the debris in the trash. He felt better - though maybe a little too full. This sense of partial contentment disappeared as soon as Radhwan began driving. During their training, the recruits were taught that as the power of God developed they would have some irritability and were given techniques to control it. Faheem worked hard trying to control his temper, but Radhwan's driving was aggravating. While he did a little better on the highway and bridge, when they entered the main drag in Laughlin it was all Faheem could do to contain himself. It seemed forever before they reached the safe house and pulled into the driveway. The car had not even stopped and Faheem had the door open and was getting out.

Radhwan said, "Open the garage door."

Faheem walked up to the keypad and tried to remember the code but his mind was all jumbled up. When Radhwan told him in a patronizing tone to remember his training, Faheem began to boil over and turned toward the car ready to attack it. The code popped into his memory and he settled down somewhat. He punched in the code and the garage door rolled up. The garage was empty and Faheem noticed a door leading into the house proper. He didn't wait for Radhwan to drive in but tried the door, which was locked. He remembered his training lesson and that the key was hidden, but he was so upset he couldn't remember where.

Radhwan finished parking the car and turned it off. Getting out of the car, he walked over to the small cabinet in the corner and found the key sitting on top. He walked up the stairs and used the key to open the door. As he walked in he said simply, "Close the door."

Faheem clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw muscles stood out in sharp contrast. He pressed the door closer button but really wanted to tear the button off the wall. He watched the garage door slowly close and took a deep breath trying to calm himself. His inability to remember something so simple humbled him. He concentrated, recalling parts of his training. Through his jumbled thoughts came back the scene of the doctor telling them how important the mantra "God is great" would be to them, as the power of God developed in them. He closed his eyes and repeated the mantra seven times. It did calm him.

By the time Faheem entered the house, Radhwan had already retrieved the next sheet of instructions. He read them out loud to Faheem. Listening to the rather poorly spoken Arabic of Radhwan, Faheem would have much preferred to have read the sheet himself. A trap door was to be found in the main bedroom closet and their equipment was stored there. Radhwan went on about the great battle against Satan which they were about to participate in. Faheem was in no mood to listen to Radhwan's religious propaganda and began to explore the house. There were three bedrooms; one was larger with its own bathroom. He rolled back a rug in the closet and there was indeed a trap door. Lifting the door, Faheem was greeted by the smell of stale air in the crawl space below the house.

Radhwan was now standing behind him and asked, "Do you think there will be snakes down there?"

Without answering Faheem lowered himself through the opening. Only some light coming through the corner wall vents and the trap door above him broke the darkness. He could just make out a stack of equipment to his left. "We need a flashlight."

Radhwan said something about the flashlight he saw in the cupboard and Faheem could hear his footsteps as he left to retrieve it. He repeated the mantra to relax himself. Vaguely, Faheem recalled an assurance the recruits had been given: everything they needed would be provided. With his eyes now adjusting to the dim light, Faheem could make out the structural post which held up the floor. The ground seemed to slope upward to his right, narrowing the space from the 4 feet he sat in to less than 2 feet. He explored the pile of equipment with his hands until a flashlight beam fluttered through the darkness. Radhwan, delivering the flashlight from above, misaimed the beam directly into Faheem's eyes.

Faheem reached over and tore the flashlight from Radhwan's hand snarling, "Give me that before you blind me!"

There were a half-dozen crates stacked in front of him. He set the flashlight on the ground and began handing the crates up to Radhwan. They were heavy for their size, and Faheem figured inside these crates were weapons for their mission. After he handed the last crate up, Faheem used the flashlight for one final sweep through the crawlspace. On the nearest post he saw some writing. In Arabic it said, "God is great." Previously he always ignored religious slogans. But this one seemed to calm him and he stared at it until interrupted by Radhwan asking, "Is there anything else down there?"

Rather than answer, Faheem simply clambered back through the trap door; when Faheem didn't bother to close the door Radhwan objected, "You had better close the door, in case there are snakes down there."

Faheem rolled his eyes in frustration but slid the trap door closed. They began opening the crates, which were filled with the same type of weapons the recruits had trained with. There was also a notebook containing a map and diagrams of the Laughlin Grand Casino. Their plan of attack was carefully orchestrated with distinct steps and timing. Faheem concentrated on inspecting and separating the equipment. Radhwan studied the manual forcing himself to memorize each step. Only after much study was he willing to allow Faheem the opportunity to scrutinize the manual. Despite his mental angst Faheem was able to ingest the material quite quickly and was concerned about the sketchy plan of escape.

Radhwan announced, "We leave in 45 minutes."

Something wasn't right with this plan, but Faheem was having trouble organizing his thoughts enough to pin it down. Radhwan's announcement, however, clicked things in place. Faheem asked, "How about the time change?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We crossed the time zone when we entered Nevada. We have to set our watches back an hour."

"There is nothing in the plan about changing our time. They must have allowed for this in their planning."

"I would expect they figured we would do it on our own."

"We're sticking to the plan as written."

Faheem felt the anger rising in him. Something was wrong and this religious zealot of an idiot was incapable of seeing it. Even though the two towns were adjacent, their time zones were an hour apart. Arizona didn't use daylight savings time. During the summer they were on the same time as Nevada, but in the fall Nevada reverted to regular time and was an hour behind them. He was pretty sure the time had changed already. However, his thoughts were so jumbled he was having trouble utilizing his logic of which he was normally so proud.

Radhwan began reciting religious quotes about Satan and how they were going to strike a blow to his power here on earth in the name of their God. Angry, Faheem shouted, "Stop it!" and approached Radhwan with his fists clenched, ready to pound him into oblivion.

Radhwan didn't back down. Instead, preparing to fight, he chanted, "Our God is Great."

The effect on Faheem was dramatic. That phrase produced a soothing of the wild beast within him, as if hypnotized. Stopping his advance Faheem said, "OK, we'll do it your way. We had better start getting ready."

Faheem separated the armament into two piles. He then donned a black commando uniform. He was trying to analyze why that simple phrase had such a powerful effect on him. Saying the phrase silently to himself produced some calming, but nothing like seeing it or hearing it from outside his own head. He just couldn't keep his thoughts organized enough to work ideas out logically. It had to be something in his training though he wasn't able to identify it. It was as if someone had put a switch inside of his head which responded to that specific signal.

Faheem's thoughts were interrupted by Radhwan who asked, "How do we activate the communication device?"

Technology and engineering Faheem could handle. He told Radhwan, "I'll help you when it's time. We're not to activate until just prior to the start of our mission to prevent detection of our radio signal."

Their preparation time went quickly. They hid their automatic weapons under a blanket on the back seat of the van. They sported bright colored shirts over their armored vests. This effectively hid their armament from casual observation but made them look quite obese. Faheem would have found their appearance comical but he was working too hard to control his thoughts. He had no energy to worry about the outcome of their mission; trying to maintain self-control was paramount.

Radhwan drove even more carefully than before. Despite having the air-conditioning on high they were both sweating. Radhwan began whispering the phrase "God is great." Hearing it gave Faheem a little comfort and he tried saying that phrase out loud which helped a little more. They fell into a rhythm with alternating chants. This provided some sense of control, but it took both of them working hard to concentrate enough to drive the short distance down the hill to the casino. The wait for a left turn signal onto the casino drive was excruciating. They fidgeted and sweated, their nerves raw. When the light turned, a car pulled right in front of them cutting them off. Radhwan laid on the horn and Faheem found himself reaching into the backseat for his weapon \- both recruits issuing a stream of profanities. Fortunately the car sped off before its occupants paid the price for their indiscretion.

Faheem forced himself to restore his weapon to its hiding spot and Radhwan resumed driving. But they were both trembling with rage. Their chant seemed to help little now. Faheem concentrated harder than he had ever done before, trying to recall his training. He told Radhwan, "Turn right into the parking lot and drive by the drop-off zone in front of the casino."

Radhwan would have liked to yell back at Faheem that it was his responsibility to drive, but he was so hyped up that remembering what he was supposed to do was almost impossible. Faheem's training kept them on track. They drove by the front of the casino looking for security guards. There were two men loitering at the near end of the entrance; they would be their initial targets. Faheem said, "Keep driving; now turn left into the parking lot."

When they reached an open area of the parking lot, they stopped the van and took off their colorful over-shirts. Faheem activated his vest and then activated Radhwan's. Radhwan gripped the steering wheel so tightly his fingers were white and he was trembling noticeably. Faheem readied both of their weapons and said, "Now drive back to the handicapped parking and pull into the first slot."

Radhwan did as he was told.

Chapter 17

Harry moved onto the float plane tied up at the dock. The door of the plane was locked. With a bit of a grunt, Harry jerked the door open, destroying the latch in the process. He eased in through the door and sat on the right. The instrument panel was spartan, though fairly similar to the helicopters he had flown in the Navy. He turned on the master switch and the avionic's switch. The only radio was an old analog model which took forever to warm up and become operational. Harry spotted a headset hanging on the right side of the cockpit. He put it on. Harry tuned the radio to 121.5, the emergency channel. He began pushing buttons trying to find a talk switch. He identified the button on the left side of the yoke as the transmitter button and held it down saying, "Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is commander Harry Williams requesting emergency help." He waited about 30 seconds and repeated the call. On his third attempt he received a reply," This is Northwest flight 1140. What is the nature of your emergency and how can we help?"

Harry said, "Emergency Code Red. Expect imminent terrorist attack on casinos and lottery institutions. Please relay to Department of Homeland Security."

The Northwest flight started to reply but then apparently flew out of range and the radio again became silent. Harry cursed loudly and decided to try and take the airplane up. He had never flown an airplane, much less a seaplane... How different could it be from a helicopter?

***

The captain of the 757 enroute from New York to Seattle looked at his copilot with a mixture of disbelief and shock, and asked, "What do you think?"

She replied, "Sounded real to me, but let's play back the voice recording."

The end of the transmission was garbled though the overall message was clear enough. The captain made his decision and called Minneapolis Center on his assigned frequency, "Minneapolis Center, this is Northwest 1140. We have just received a Mayday signal. The caller was a Commander Williams. He reported a code red with a request to notify the Department of Homeland security of an imminent terrorist attack. Over."

Minneapolis Center responded, "Copy the code red report. Stand by this frequency."

The pilot continued to let the autopilot guide them westward. The copilot mused, "I wonder who this Commander Williams is and what is he doing in the wilderness on the Canadian border?"

The pilot replied, "It could all be a hoax."

Their conversation was interrupted when Minneapolis Center came back saying, "Northwest 1140, change to frequency 121.55."

"Northwest 1140 changing to 121.55"

"This is Northwest 1140. Over."

There was a slight pause before a new voice said, "This is Homeland Security. We need you to replay the voice recorder. Use your emergency radio to play back the recorded message and the microphone on this radio to transmit while being held inside the ear phone of the other headset."

"The message is garbled. Worse at the end, but we'll try." The copilot took her headset off and accepted the pilot's headset. She hit the replay feature of their second com radio which had been tuned to the emergency channel. The playback of Harry's message was picked up by the pilot's microphone and rebroadcast. When she finished she handed the pilot back his headset and replaced her own.

The pilot again activated his mike asking, "Did you copy the transmission?"

"Standby."

A flurry of activity occurred as Harry's garbled message was relayed throughout the security infrastructure. Voice analysis was begun immediately to confirm Harry's identity. Activity had already been escalating because of Theodore's work and then the disappearance of Harry. The system was actually working, and within just a few minutes Harry's message was authenticated. Wheels began to turn rapidly and multiple security agencies were immediately involved.

"Northwest 1140, do you have a time signature for the Mayday transmission?"

The captain looked at the copilot who shook her head in the negative. He replied, "This is Northwest 1140. That is a negative. Call was relayed almost immediately but no time signature available."

"Stand by this frequency."

"Northwest 1140 standing by on 121.55."

A decision was made to scramble the National Guard fighters based at Duluth, Minnesota, and a pattern of coverage was designed for the arc of travel of the Northwest flight. Fighters should reach the probable point of transmission within 45 minutes. Using the Northwest flight as a relay by having it circle back over their previous flight track was discussed but rejected because of their non-secure radio transmission. Flight 1140 was released and returned to standard communication.

The final decision for declaring the code red was up to the Secretary of Homeland Security. Minutes ticked away while the bureaucracy raced to complete an analysis of the situation for presentation to the Secretary.

Theodore and his associated intelligence people had been concentrating all their efforts on looking for Harry in the far northwest corner of Minnesota. That's where they had traced the helicopter they had been following from Lake Minnetonka. Theodore had argued that their radar coverage had been duped. An isolated and weak signal from Harry's rectal probe had been picked up by one of the military intelligence satellites and seemed to indicate that Harry was in fact in the northeast corner of the state. The radar coverage they had of the helicopter flight showed uninterrupted movement to the northwest. Theodore had argued with the data, saying a switch of helicopters must have occurred, but he had no proof. Now the pieces were beginning to fall together. Theodore's team pushed hard for the declaration of code red but there was resistance from other agencies who did not want to cause undue alarm because of the report from one renegade agent. Arguing for action, Theodore requested immediate notification of all casinos and lottery institutions of the potential attack. He also requested immediate arrest of all those who had received scholarships from Dr. Ahmad's organization.

The counter argument was a questioning of the legality of arresting those scholarship students who had no evidence of involvement. The case for unnecessary economic harm to the casinos was also argued, as was the agency's potential legal liability for any losses. A compromise was finally reached: all casinos would be notified of the threat and surveillance would be intensified on all the scholarship students. Further action would have to await the declaration of the code red status.

Chapter 18

At 3:58 p.m. MST or 2:58 local, the Laughlin Grand Casino received notification of a possible terrorist threat. There was no explanation or description of the threat. The head of security was called to the security control center. He left the administrative meeting and walked quickly, arriving at 3:00 p.m. to assume responsibility for implementing their plan for enhanced security.

Faheem studied his watch. When the hands clicked exactly to 4:00 o'clock MST, Faheem activated both his and Radhwan's Communications Systems. He then said, "Let's go. You take the guard on the left but wait until they turn on us."

The two young men ran up the access walk knocking people out of their way as they went. The agents caught some unusual motion in their peripheral vision and turned toward the commotion. It took a few seconds to recognize the threat. Then they sounded their radio alarms and pulled their weapons. Quick bursts from the recruits' AK-47s ended any possible defense from the security guards. Although automatic locks on the casino doors were activated with the radio alarm, the doors were open because of the movement of people. The attackers simply pushed their way through the doors and were now in the casino proper.

They began shooting short bursts at anything that seemed to offer resistance. The casino was filled with mostly elderly people who had difficulty moving away. Radhwan emptied an entire clip toward the ceiling where catwalks were hidden by one-way mirrors. They reloaded on the run, destroying the casino as they went moved through. Randomly they threw hand grenades and repeatedly fired their weapons upwards.

The security agents who were walking above the casino fired their small arms at the attackers to no avail. Faheem could feel their bullets striking his vest and helmet but ignored them completely. His rage was now fully developed and he had no control whatsoever. An occasional bullet would pierce his unprotected flesh, but his brain only acknowledged a fleeting sensation. A large man was blocking his way - not intentionally - he was just unable to move fast enough. A long blast from the AK-47 essentially decapitated the man whose bulk Faheem fiercely pushed aside. An occasional security guard tried to stop them, but was no match for the two young men in full rage.

Radhwan took a hit directly in the thigh, fracturing his femur. He fell heavily to the floor. Ignoring the excruciating pain, Radhwan dragged himself up against one of the slot machines. Blood smeared the shiny metal box. Using the machine to stabilize himself on his left leg, Radhwan continued his assault not only on people, but also on the machines themselves, which were obviously the work of Satan.

The floor was slippery with spilled blood. Despite stumbling at times, Faheem continued to move forward, wrecking everything in his path. He had no goal other than letting his rage carry him forward. Alarms and sirens were everywhere but he heard nothing. The barrel of his AK-47 was glowing red but he continued to load and shoot. He threw the last of his hand grenades at a group of police officers who appeared by the door. He followed this with a long burst from his AK-47. While Faheem was reloading, another officer was able to return fire. The force of the bullets knocked Faheem to the ground but did not penetrate his vest. He finished reloading and was up shooting again before the officers could move in. When Faheem wasn't shooting he was using the butt of his rifle to destroy the display on every machine he could.

Radhwan's immobility made him an easier target for the security forces. Standing there on one leg he continued to shoot until the barrel of his rifle glowed red. He too dispensed the last of his hand grenades. He was reaching for another clip when the combined firepower of the newly arrived police and the security agents brought him down.

Faheem had run out of ammunition for his AK-47 and was now limited to a 9 mm pistol. He was much more selective in choosing targets with just the pistol. It was a sniper on the catwalk that finally was able to bring Faheem down with a shot to the neck. Faheem crumpled next to the roulette wheel he was trying to tear down.

The lack of gunfire and grenade explosions allowed the sounds of many sirens and alarms to become more evident to those who had survived the onslaught. Terrified faces started appearing around the slot machines and from below gaming tables. The security forces began moving in on the bodies of Faheem and Radhwan. The entire attack had taken less than 15 minutes, but those 15 minutes had been horrific. Those who had survived were viewing a scene of destruction and death.

Security agents and police moved closer to the bodies of Faheem and Radhwan. They approached with great care and kept their weapons pointed at the bodies. Both of the assailants were riddled with bullet holes - any one of which should have been enough to bring the assailant down. The obvious death of the attackers allowed everyone to turn their attention to the wounded.

Timing mechanisms in the vest of both assailants had been synchronized when Faheem had activated them. The lining of plastic explosives ignited simultaneously and a huge explosion enveloped the casino. Remaining windows shattered, and any person near either of the assailants died instantly. The ensuing fire spread destruction quickly throughout the building. Those people evacuating the attached hotel were trapped in smoke and gridlock, and the fire soon became a consuming hell.

***

The Department of Homeland security became much more interested in Theodore's research, and within a few minutes of the initial attack had declared a code red with special emphasis on casinos. Orders went out for the detention of all students who had received scholarships from Dr. Ahmad's organization. The one argument against full deployment was the lack of coordinated attacks. The Secretary of Homeland Security listened to the argument but pushed ahead anyway. The single attack that occurred after they had received Harry's warning was enough of a political liability. He didn't need any other black marks against his record.

Chapter 19

Harry climbed back out of the airplane and untied the ropes securing the plane to the dock. He had watched float plane pilots pump out the floats before flying but wasn't sure how it was done. Since the airplane had just flown in, how much water could there be? With the airplane floating free, Harry climbed back in and moved into the right seat. Airplane pilots usually sat on the left. But as a helicopter pilot Harry was much more comfortable on the right. The panel of airplane instruments looked much like his training helicopters from his prior life. He looked for a key and the checklist without any luck. Surely they must have hidden a key somewhere. Finally Harry found the checklist sitting on the glare shield in plain view. Still no key, though. In frustration Harry simply unscrewed a retaining nut and pushed the ignition switch out of the panel. He tore the wires off the switch to un-ground the magnetos.

Now it was a matter of hot-wiring the starter relay. Harry took a few seconds to read the checklist for starting. He closed the mixture control and tried to figure out how to put the prop in fine pitch as indicated by the checklist. There was a prop control lever, but not being sure which way it should go, he guessed and pushed it all the way forward. Where was the fuel selector valve? At least it was painted red which made finding it easier; he turned it to right tank. The checklist called for using the wobble pump but Harry didn't know what it was. He used the primer to inject some gas into the intake manifolds, but wasn't sure how many pumps; four should be enough, he hoped. Harry looked at the checklist again. He wasn't sure where he was on the list and chided himself to be more methodical.

Harry touched the wires in the ignition switch together trying to identify the wire which led to the starter relay. None seemed to work. Then he realized he had turned the master switch off to save battery power. Turning the master back on, he could hear static on the radio. He again tried touching the wires together figuring the black wire was the ground. The orange wire, when connected to the ground, caused the starter relay to close and the big radial engine began to groan and turn over. The engine coughed yet failed to catch. Harry relaxed his death grip on the wires and allowed the starter to cool for a few seconds. He really needed a third hand: two to work the wires and one to work the throttle. He advanced the throttle twice the quarter inch recommended on the checklist and again touched the wires together. The big radial again groaned as the prop slowly turned over.

The engine again coughed, but this time kept on coughing and finally caught with a loud throaty roar. Harry let go of the wires and looked up. He was headed directly to the beach! A gentle breeze had been enough to turn the airplane around while he was concentrating on the wires. Harry stomped on the left rudder and turned the yoke all the way to the left. But there wasn't enough time and the tip of the right float crunched against the rocky beach.

Harry left the engine running but pulled the throttle back to idle before climbing back out onto the floats. He pulled the paddle free from the clips holding it against the float. Paddling furiously, he tried to turn the airplane around without any success. Throwing the paddle into the water in frustration Harry jumped into the nearly freezing lake, almost up to his waist. He pulled the airplane backwards off the beach and slowly swung it around until it was pointed straight out into the lake. Harry then let the airplane float back toward the beach figuring he would set the aft tip of the floats on the beach to stabilize the airplane. The water rudders were down and the rudder tips dug in before he could secure the floats. Harry's feet no longer hurt because the ice cold water had already numbed them.

Pulling himself back up onto the floats, Harry was met with the cold prop wash from the running engine. A few degrees colder and the wind would have turned him into a human icicle. His silk and wool suit provided little protection and he wished for his operational uniform. Ignoring his chattering teeth, Harry crawled back into the Beaver and sat on the right side. He strapped in using the seat belt only because the shoulder straps didn't have enough reach for his large frame. Forcing himself to concentrate, Harry again examined the checklist. He tried securing the door, but having destroyed the latch earlier, it was hopeless. Harry did his best to set the flaps for takeoff but turning the lever didn't change anything. The large handle between the seats finally caught his eye and he gave it a few pumps which moved the large flaps down a notch. It was time, Harry applied full power. The big radial engine roared with the sound of a gigantic Harley motorcycle and Harry was plowing across the lake in his high-speed airboat. Instinctively pulling back on the yoke, Harry got the plane to rise up onto the step in the floats and the speed began to increase. Harry glanced at the airspeed indicator. He was doing 50 mph and then realized he was no longer touching the water. The checklist had said something about the water rudder but Harry was too busy to worry about it. The airspeed indicator was now showing 90 mph, but the engine tachometer was nearing the red line: 2450 rpm.

The door banging against the side of the airplane let in large amounts of cold air that Harry tried to ignore. He had already pulled on the knob for cabin heat, yet wasn't noticing much heat. Harry pulled back the power a little to keep the engine below the red line. Controlling the airplane seemed natural enough despite the difference in controls from his helicopter days. He was now headed in the direction of the departing helicopter which was nowhere in sight. Harry tried to work the radio but found it inoperable, dead as a door nail. Too late, he realized, he had forgotten to turn off the avionics when he was starting the engine; maybe a power surge had blown the circuit breaker to the radio or maybe the radio was fried. He tried to find the appropriate circuit breaker, but whenever Harry took his attention off the horizon, the airplane would pitch down and prop speed increase dangerously.

Harry began playing with the prop governor and finally figured out how to control the prop speed. By adjusting in a coarser pitch the engine rpm settled down and his airspeed increased significantly. He was now showing 120 mph. The helicopter had probably a 10 minute head start. Was he going to be able to catch it? Harry was fighting the pressure on the yoke to keep the airplane level with only partial success. The airplane was flying not level but in an undulating up-and-down pattern. Turning the trim wheel seemed to help. With some experimentation, Harry was able to take most of the pressure off the yoke and the airplane settled down. It had been several years since Harry had flown, but the feel was coming back.

Harry turned on the transponder and its lights flickered. He dialed in 7700 as the squawk code hoping someone would detect the emergency signal. Hopefully José had found a working phone or repaired something and was in contact with Theodore. He had screwed up by not protecting the radio though there was nothing he could do about it now. His mission was to hunt down the helicopter that had taken his wife. Harry kept the engine speed and manifold pressure right at redline. The oil temperature and cylinder head temperatures were both high, but protecting the engine was not Harry's concern. All the plane had to do was stay together until he caught up with the helicopter. The airplane wasn't happy being pushed this hard: it was vibrating enough that the gauges were hard to read and the old magnetic compass was bouncing around.

Forcing himself to concentrate, Harry again looked at the checklist. He was supposed to have set the flaps at zero for cruise. Harry looked around trying to remember where the flap indicator was and finally reset the flaps appropriately. The few seconds he had spent looking for the indicator was enough time for the plane to have veered 20° off course. The speed built up and he was now indicating 130 mph. The helicopter could have easily outrun him. But he knew it was damaged and hopefully he would be able to catch it.

Harry tried to do the math in his head. If the helicopter was making 90 miles an hour and had been flying for 10 minutes it would be 15 miles ahead of him. If Harry were making 120 miles an hour that would give him a 30 mph advantage. It would take him 30 minutes to make up that 15 miles; if his pursuit angle was off at all he would never find them. The reality sank in, yet Harry continued on, any chance better than no chance.

***

The pilot of the fleeing helicopter was not at all happy with the vibration in his ship. Control was marginal and he was afraid the vibration would break something essential. He cautioned Dr. Ahmad, "I think we should put down on the sandbar ahead and inspect the helicopter."

Dr. Ahmad was very aware of the vibration, but now that Angie was with him he really wanted to push on and reach the safety of his jet. Only after the pilot had repeated his request did Dr. Ahmad give his assent. The pilot slowed the helicopter down and approached the sandbar carefully. He minimized his forward speed and flared only slightly before setting the craft down gently. Shutting down the machine, the pilot slid out to inspect the damage. Harry's gunshots had found their mark and part of one tail rotor blade was missing. There didn't seem to be any other significant damage. The craft should hold together for the short trip to the airport.

Easing back in, the pilot gave Dr. Ahmad a thumbs-up signal and said, "Minor damage to the tail rotor. We'll have to keep the speed down, but we should make it okay."

Dr. Ahmad replied, "God's will."

***

Approaching the north end of the lake, Harry could see a sandbar that had two discrete lines which appeared to be helicopter skid marks. He checked his course heading and pushed on. As his comfort level with flying increased, Harry was able to examine the instruments closer. He turned on everything and was happy when a rectangular instrument lit up and revealed a moving map GPS. At least he knew where he was now, in the far northeast corner of Minnesota. Harry changed the scale and the GPS displayed Thunder Bay straight ahead. Now if he had a radio he could have notified someone of the escape route. Why wasn't he more careful when he started the engine? It made sense: this rugged border was impossible to patrol and provided access to a Canadian airport with jet capability. Easily avoided radar and transcontinental range via the polar route made it a logical escape plan.

A glint of sunlight caught Harry's attention. The sun was already getting fairly low to the southwest and had reflected off something not too far ahead. Harry focused his attention and again saw a brief glint as the sun reflected off a helicopter ahead of him. He urged the airplane on and subconsciously added a little extra throttle. The increased noise and vibration made Harry focus on the instruments, which showed the engine manifold pressure again in the danger zone. Reluctantly Harry backed off the throttle. He knew academically if the engine blew or something else broke on the airplane the game would be over and his wife would be gone. Having his target in sight though increased his adrenaline rush. "Concentrate on the mission" - a mantra from his training came back - and Harry assumed his former military persona. If he was going to succeed, it needed to be about the mission, not about him.

Suddenly the engine began to cough and sputter. Harry glanced at the instruments: power and temperatures were both at the red line, but everything else was okay, except for a low fuel flashing light. Then he looked at the fuel gages. All three said empty, with the left tank a little less empty. Harry franticly searched for the fuel selector valve. When he turned it to the left tank, the engine smoothed out. Something else to worry about.

Concentrating on his flying, Harry experimented by letting the nose of the plane drop a little. He could pick up some speed in exchange for his altitude; coming in from on high at the six o'clock position was better. This would save the speed gain for later. The glint from the helicopter was more regular now; he was definitely gaining. Glancing at the GPS Harry realized they would be crossing the Canadian border about the time he caught up with the helicopter. A slew of international repercussions briefly tugged at Harry's thoughts, but the immediate challenge was far more important. Dividing his thoughts and attention between the challenge of flying and the possible techniques for bringing the helicopter down gently enough so his wife would not be harmed, Harry flew on in pursuit.

The pilot seemed quite competent. If Harry could take out just the tail rotor, the pilot would be forced to cut all power and the helicopter would auto rotate to a landing. If the pilot was good enough he wouldn't even break anything. If the pilot wasn't so good the helicopter would probably be trashed although everyone should survive. How to take out the tail rotor was the real question. Maybe Harry should have taken time to find some more ammunition for his AK-47. Now he would have to use the airplane itself as his weapon. It seemed logical to sacrifice part of the floats to destroy the tail rotor; if he could just edge up to the helicopter from behind, the tips of the plane's floats, which extended just forward of his own propeller, would reach the tail rotor without the main rotor interfering.

Harry considered just following the helicopter to the airport and trying to get the authorities to prevent their jet from departing. Glancing at the fuel gage though, this option was obviously not going to work. If the radio would just work... Harry began pulling fuses trying to find the blown one so he could replace it. His flying suffered greatly though, again veering off course. So after several attempts he gave up and concentrated on the flying. He was close enough to see a definite outline of the helicopter now, only a half-mile behind at the most.

Harry began to estimate his trajectory. Hopefully everyone was looking forward and his approach would be completely unobserved. Even the damaged helicopter probably had more maneuverability than he did with his limited flying skills in an airplane. Leaving the power setting high, Harry began pushing the nose of the airplane over to attack the helicopter. He gradually reduced power to match the speed of the helicopter. When he had closed to within refueling distance, Harry began nosing the airplane forward trying to prevent any oscillation. Rotor wash from the helicopter's main rotor began bouncing the Beaver around, or maybe it was his anxiety causing him to over-control.

Harry concentrated on relaxing his grip on the yoke, trying to dance with the airplane as it bounced around in the turbulent airflow. The tip of his right float was now within a couple of feet of the tail rotor. The closer he got, the worse turbulence grew. The spinning disk of the main rotor was right in front of him just below eye level. He wasn't cold anymore. Sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated on his delicate dance. The float was within inches of the tail rotor, and the main rotor was just a few feet in front of him.

The helicopter pilot sensed something was wrong. There was a different feel to the main rotor and he pushed forward on the cyclic trying to determine what was wrong. The helicopter dived away from Harry with the floats coming within inches of the main rotor. The feel of the helicopter controls returned to normal as soon as the helicopter's main rotor was again free of Harry's interference. The helicopter pilot shrugged his shoulders and continued on towards the airport.

Harry ignored his frustration and again set up for his attack, coming in slightly high. The airplane suddenly coughed and Harry's attention was drawn back to the instruments. All three fuel gauge needles were now pointing to the left of empty; it was now or never.

Harry pushed the throttle full in. Power would surge but then die back as air got sucked into the carburetor. His dance was even harder now because he had to deal with both bouncing from the helicopter rotor and his surging engine. Harry's approach wasn't nearly as delicate this time. He kept his speed up and essentially rammed the tip of the right float into the tail rotor. The response of the helicopter was immediate as it yawed to the right. Harry banked sharply to the left to avoid further contact and a catastrophic midair collision.

The helicopter pilot was good. He immediately cut power and the helicopter began to auto rotate. Everyone aboard had felt the impact of Harry's attack and Dr. Ahmad saw the airplane turn away from them. He commanded, "Shoot the airplane!"

The pilot was far too busy trying to land his craft to pay any attention. Dr. Ahmad's bodyguard was on the wrong side and could see nothing to shoot at. They had been following a shoreline along one of the many lakes in this area, and the pilot tried to head the helicopter toward the shoreline hoping to find an opening. They were only a few hundred feet from the water when a marshy area appeared. The pilot worked the cyclic feverishly trying to control the craft and land it in the marshy area. Descending at a couple of g's, they slammed into the marsh. It was a pretty good jolt which was partially absorbed by the grassy ground and the now splayed out helicopter skids. They had no sooner landed when Dr. Ahmad ordered everyone to take cover. They exited the helicopter, the guard headed towards the nearest trees with Angie carried along rather roughly.

Chapter 20

Harry continued his steep turn to the left trying to keep an eye on the helicopter. The helicopter pilot was good and was maintaining fairly good control as he descended. Harry began exchanging speed for altitude as the engine continued to cough and sputter. He pulled on the carburetor heat and tried changing fuel tanks, but the engine would not run without gasoline. The coughing was soon replaced by silence. Scanning the checklist for an emergency landing procedure, Harry noted the preflight requirement of checking fuel. Damn! Trying to concentrate on the checklist interfered with Harry's flying and he finally threw it on the seat next to him. One final pass over the helicopter and he would land one way or the other.

People were exiting the helicopter and Harry saw one of the men raise a weapon. Instinctively Harry banked the airplane away, which caused him to lose even more altitude. It was time to land whether he wanted to or not. Heading the airplane parallel to the shoreline, Harry prepared for the landing. He let the airplane glide right down to the water and then pulled back on the yoke to flare the airplane just as he would have done in the helicopter. The nose of the airplane responded and lifted up, further slowing the airplane. Harry heard a buzzer but wasn't sure what it meant and concentrated on trying to fly the airplane. His speed was getting low and the nose began to drop about the time he struck the water. The airplane bounced back into the air a few feet before striking the water again. This time it stayed down. Not a pretty landing. But considering it was his first, and a dead stick landing at that, not too bad. Harry headed the airplane toward shore.

The right float was already taking on water and had settled significantly tilting the airplane to the right. Multiple bullet holes would have been evident to an outside observer. This increased drag slowed the airplane so quickly it stopped coasting before reaching the shore. Realizing he wouldn't make the shore, Harry remembered throwing the paddle into the lake. A bad decision now that he was floating 100 feet from shore. In the near freezing water he would only have a couple of minutes before hypothermia began to set in. But there was no way to rescue Angie sitting here in the airplane bobbing 100 feet from shore. Harry did a quick inspection of the airplane contents and found several life preservers. None looked like they would fit him. No obvious weapons. Just an old raincoat that might fit, sort of.

Harry stepped out onto the float and stripped. He carefully wrapped his still dry shirt and suit coat into a ball and covered it with his shorts and still wet pants. He then wrapped the old raincoat around the clothes and secured them with one of the life vest straps. He used a couple other life vests to create a miniature raft that would hopefully keep his clothes dry. He used a short piece of rope to tie the raft to himself. Just standing on the floats naked was enough to get Harry's teeth chattering again. Before diving in and beginning his short swim, he reached back into the airplane and took out the emergency locator transmitter. He whacked the ELT with his hand to simulate a crash. A light came on indicating that the ELT was now transmitting an emergency signal, but Harry had no way of checking.

Harry gave it one more shake and placed it on the seat before diving into the water. It wasn't a long swim by Navy SEAL standards. However, hypothermia was already beginning to set in by the time Harry climbed up onto the shore. He carefully lifted his dry pack floating on the life preserver onto the rocks. His teeth were chattering and his fingers were clumsy as he undid the strap and unwound his clothes. He used his shorts as a towel trying to remove as much moisture from his body as possible. He then dressed in his already wet trousers and his mostly dry shirt and suit coat. He struggled into the too small raincoat and proceeded in tearing out one of the shoulder seams. His uniform was less than ideal for a stealth mission, and he had only two weapons: his natural ability and the surgical scalpel that was still stuck in his sock.

***

Dr. Ahmad had no sooner reached the relative protection of the trees when he began dialing on his satellite phone. He reached a flying service in Thunder Bay with which he had a contract. "I need to speak to Marty immediately. This is Dr. Ahmad."

"Marty is in the shop. I'll get him for you."

" Thanks."

After what seemed like several minutes a voice rumbled, "Martin here."

"I need you to pick me up immediately. We've crash-landed our helicopter at the north end of Crescent Lake."

"How many?"

"There are four of us. Two of us have a plane to catch and it's very important."

"I'm on my way. Should be there in 15 minutes."

"Thanks, and be prepared because it looks like it was sabotage."

"Okay."

Dr. Ahmad looked up from his conversation and saw the fear in Angie's eyes. His persona softened as he said, "It looks like your Harry was a lot more interested in continuing his battle with me than with your safety. It says a lot about him. You will be a lot better off with somebody who appreciates you. I think it is time I started calling you Angie, or Angel, which suits you even better."

Angie just stared at him. Harry must have known what he was doing. Surely he would not have risked her life just to get even with Dr. Ahmad.

Dr. Ahmad turned to his personal guard and said, "Sounds like you hit the airplane. Go see where he crashed."

The guard left carrying his AK-47. The guard worked his way through the brush along the shore trying to get a look at the crash site. The brush was thick and he made a lot of noise.

***

Harry was already moving through the same thick brush in the opposite direction, but he was silent. The Native Americans would have been proud to watch him move so quickly without sound. Harry heard the approaching guard and moved a little further inland. Dr. Ahmad's people were well-trained for urban settings, but Harry was at home in the bush. Attacking the guard was a consideration, but Harry decided that stealth was a better strategy. The vegetation was thick enough that Harry could not see the guard, though it was obvious he was by himself and probably searching for Harry. He was making enough noise for a small platoon. In almost complete silence, Harry crept toward the helicopter crash site. He circled to the right staying in the low shrubs along the edge of the marsh. Movement was visible in the trees across from the helicopter and Harry was forced to crawl through the shorter shrubbery. The moist sphagnum moss cushioned his knees except when a root would poke through. The soggy moss added to Harry's dampness, but as long as he kept moving the cold was kept at bay.

Even crawling Harry moved as fast as most people would walk. He reached the far side of the marsh and began slipping toward the helicopter. Staying hidden in the trees and brush Harry became even more cautious about noises. He could easily hear Dr. Ahmad's voice, but was not able to understand his words; they sounded English though. As Harry stepped closer, he alternated periods of complete stillness with his movement. The green raincoat was blending in fairly well with the dark pine trees. As he drew nearer, his periods of stillness became more frequent and longer. He could now see movement and recognized Dr. Ahmad pacing back and forth; he was talking on a telephone.

Harry had no way of knowing how many enemies were there. Two men had abducted Angie; one of those also appeared to be the pilot. Movement next to the helicopter attracted Harry's attention. The pilot was removing boxes from the helicopter. Harry edged closer, using his hearing as much as his vision. No sign of his wife. Harry began to wonder if she was still in the helicopter, maybe injured. Moving within a few feet of the marshy clearing, Harry finally spotted the bright orange color of Angie's dress next to one of the pine trees. Moving back into the thicker brush, Harry slunk toward his wife. Approaching the tree where she sat, Harry again alternated slow cautious movements with periods of absolute stillness. The dimming afternoon light helped conceal him but also made it more difficult for him to see small twigs and branches that would give him away if he broke one.

Harry smeared dirt on his face to reduce his visibility. He timed his movements with Dr. Ahmad's pacing. At times Harry was visible to Dr. Ahmad, but his complete stillness fooled the eye and he was not seen. Moving behind the tree to which Angie was tied, Harry debated covering her mouth so she could not attract attention accidentally; but he decided to trust her. He whispered, "Angie, it's me Harry. Don't move or say anything."

Only Angie's eyes revealed her emotions. She sat still while Harry used the scalpel to cut through the rope binding her. Although her hands were free she kept her arms unmoved, waiting for Harry's instructions. Dr. Ahmad's voice was getting louder and he was more agitated as he turned toward Angie. The tree and Angie only partially blocked the view of Harry. A sudden burst of automatic weapon fire off in the distance drew Dr. Ahmad's attention and he turned toward the lake.

Harry whispered, "Turn to the left and climb onto my back."

Angie did as directed, and an immense sense of relief washed over her as she clung to Harry's powerful back. Harry dodged immediately into the thicker brush but had gone only about 150 yards when the alarm went up from Dr. Ahmad. Harry went from stealth mode to rapid movement instantly. He used one arm to help support Angie and the other arm to clear the brush from his path. Angie gave up trying to see where they were going and kept her head down behind Harry's shoulder to protect herself from slapping branches. They had gone the better part of a mile before Harry stopped and set Angie down.

Harry's chest was heaving as he fought to regain his breath. He told Angie, "Listen while I catch my breath."

Angie did not want to leave Harry's side, but she moved a few steps away to be able to hear better. At first there was nothing but silence. Then she heard the distant thrum of an approaching helicopter. She turned toward Harry and pointed in the direction of the sound. Holding his breath, Harry could hear the very distinct sound of a helicopter. He nodded his head and went back to breathing, trying to replenish his body of an oxygen deficit. The helicopter's deep thrumming grew louder as Harry gradually returned to an aerobic status.

Harry said, "Hughes 300C. Could be a border patrol."

Angie said, "I heard him talking on his phone to someone about sending a helicopter. He was quite demanding."

Harry was quiet for a minute before saying, "It's only a three place bird and I counted four of you."

Angie replied, "Yes, four... I think they were talking about two people needing to catch a plane. I also heard the word sabotage."

Harry said, "I had better go back and check it out. We need to contact the security people or a lot of innocent folks are going to die."

Angie's thoughts were of the look Dr. Ahmad had given her when he had called her "Angel" and she never wanted to see him again. The thought of Harry leaving her and risking his life again was even worse. She really just wanted this to be over and to go back to being a musician in a civilized world. Harry began to explain how he wanted her to stay behind and, if needed, to work her way toward the shore. Angie wasn't listening. She interrupted him saying, "I'm going with you."

"It's too dangerous. I want you to stay here."

"If you go, I go."

Harry glanced at the sky and figured they only had another half hour of light at the most. The sound of the helicopter changed as it prepared to land in the distance. The helicopter would have probably departed by the time Harry and Angie reached the shore, but a second trip would certainly be necessary. Darkness would be in his favor. Angie knew how to be quiet. It could work. He said, "OK, I'll carry you. Remember, we have to remain quiet. You must do as I say."

Angie nodded her head in agreement. Harry took off the raincoat and helped Angie put it on. She was already shivering from the evening dampness; her silk dress provided little warmth. Harry shook himself like a big dog before turning and stooping to allow Angie to climb onto his back. He crept back toward the marsh slowly, using his stealth gait. Every few steps, he would stop and listen before moving on. Angie wasn't sure how he navigated so quietly. She concentrated on the comfort of his closeness.

***

Dr. Ahmad's bodyguard returned about the time the helicopter approached. Dr. Ahmad asked, "Did you find him?"

"No, if he survived the crash and was still in the airplane he isn't alive anymore."

"Did you inspect the airplane?"

"Sir, it was floating offshore, no way to reach it. It was damaged significantly."

"My Angel has disappeared. I would expect that means my nemesis has survived the crash. We need to find her - now!"

The bodyguard looked at the setting sun and the thick forest ahead of him. He shook his head and said, "I'm sorry sir. Our only hope would be to spot her from the air."

Dr. Ahmad's pilot had joined them and said, "It's a 300 series helicopter. Only room for three people.

Dr. Ahmad asked, "Can you fly it?"

"No problem. It's a simple machine but would get us back to the airport just fine."

"About the woman, would there be room for her too?"

The pilot considered for a moment before replying, "We would be over gross. But I think we could make it if we left some of your specimens behind."

Dr. Ahmad wrestled with the choice of leaving behind years of work or trying to regain his Angel. He decided, "We will leave the specimens for now. If we cannot find the women we will return for them."

They all turned and looked at the helicopter. It had aborted its landing approach and circled over the sinking Beaver instead. It was obvious the pilot was having second thoughts about landing. Dr. Ahmad told his guard, "Hide your gun for now."

The helicopter approached the figures standing at the edge of the marsh very slowly. Dr. Ahmad stepped out into the open and waved at the helicopter. The pilot circled over the crashed helicopter before approaching for a landing. Warily he landed but did not shut down the helicopter. Dr. Ahmad stepped forward staying clear of the rotating main rotor. The pilot looked for any other dangers before shutting down the helicopter. The rotor was still turning when the pilot exited and walked in a stooped position to where Dr. Ahmad was waiting.

Dr. Ahmad extended his hand. The pilot cautiously shook Ahmad's hand and asked, "What's going on?"

Dr. Ahmad turned toward his damaged helicopter and began explaining to Marty how he was on his way to an important meeting when someone in an airplane flew right into them.

The pilot said, "I thought you said something about sabotage."

Before Dr. Ahmad responded, the bodyguard stepped forward and now had his AK-47 pointed at the pilot. Dr. Ahmad said, "I must apologize, but we have a need for your helicopter. You will of course be compensated for the use and your inconvenience."

The bodyguard pointed with his weapon toward the trees behind them and Marty angrily complied. He was made to stand with his back to a tree and his hands were secured with his belt. He watched in disbelief while they piled into his helicopter. Dr. Ahmad's pilot was obviously familiar with the craft and ran through the checklist mentally as he started the engine. The engine roared to life. Soon the helicopter rose to an altitude just above the trees and began searching in the direction Harry had fled. The bodyguard was leaning out the open door with his weapon at the ready.

***

Harry and Angie had moved back to within a few hundred yards of the helicopter crash site. Harry listened to the start up of the engine and the initial lift off. Something wasn't right. The helicopter wasn't ascending much and the sound seemed to indicate movement in their direction. Ahmad must be looking for them. Harry dove beneath a clump of spruce trees just as the helicopter passed overhead. Harry turned and saw the armed guard peering out of the open door. Their search couldn't last very long because darkness would soon be complete.

After the helicopter had passed, Harry arose from their hiding place still holding on to Angie. He moved toward the lakeshore trying to get a look at the crash site. His feet were bleeding again, and after a short rest he was again conscious of the pain. His movements now were more of a flitting from tree to tree, always aware of the helicopter sound. As they neared the marshy clearing, Harry began scanning for movement. There should be at least one person left on the ground. Harry kept to the heavier cover as they inched toward the lakeshore. He set Angie down in a thicket of trees just yards from the shore saying, "I need you to listen. There's at least one more person here on the ground. I'm going to circle back and see if I can find him."

Angie was about to protest when she heard a change in the helicopter sound. It was getting closer again. "Stay hidden under the trees," Harry advised, picking up broken branches. He hefted them in his right hand and put them down again. Reaching up into a dead tree, he broke off a limb two or 3 inches in diameter and about 6 feet long. The sound of the limb breaking seemed loud even with the racket of the approaching helicopter.

Angie watched as Harry carried the limb like a spear and moved to the edge of the clearing. The helicopter was now almost overhead and still visible in the darkening sky. The helicopter circled over the marshy clearing before landing near the crashed chopper. They quickly loaded some of the specimen boxes without shutting down the helicopter. Taking off again and just feet above the ground, they started to head out over the lake. Harry stayed hidden until the helicopter passed just in front of him and then stepped out. The helicopter was only about 30 feet in the air and almost directly in front of him. Harry sprinted forward and heaved his spear at the tail of the helicopter. His javelin throw carried the force of his 260 pounds and found its mark. The limb was somewhat rotten but the weight and force of momentum struck the tail rotor squarely. One blade shattered and the next blade jammed, which, in turn, fractured the drive shaft to the tail rotor.

The helicopter yawed immediately and Dr. Ahmad's pilot responded as he had recently done in the company helicopter by cutting the power. Dr. Ahmad never had time to question the pilot. Their forward momentum carried them out into the lake and the helicopter crashed in a somewhat controlled fashion in about 12 feet of water. With the door open, the helicopter began taking on water and sank in just seconds. Harry watched in the failing light as people began swimming toward shore. Harry waded out and grabbed the first one, Dr. Ahmad's bodyguard. He dragged him ashore and quickly secured his arms using the guard's belt. Harry also removed the guard's pistol from a holster beneath his arm.

Angie had come out from hiding and Harry handed her the pistol saying, "If he even wiggles, shoot him."

Harry moved back into the shallows and pulled the pilot onto shore, binding him also. He patted the pilot down but found no weapons. Harry asked, "Where's Dr. Ahmad?"

The pilot between coughs said, "Still in helicopter. Wasn't wearing seat belt. Must have hit head."

Harry nodded toward Angie, then advised the prisoners. "She will shoot..." With that, Harry stripped off his shirt, jacket and pants before diving into the lake naked. Harry could see the site of the helicopter mostly because of the bubbles reaching the surface. One blade still stuck up into the air, but otherwise the craft had sunk completely. With powerful strokes Harry reached the helicopter. He took a few deep breaths and then dove into the blackness. The top of the helicopter was only a few feet below the surface and Harry used his hands to pull himself into the door opening. Dr. Ahmad was floating motionless at the top of the cab. Harry tried to pull him out the door but Ahmad's leg was tangled in something. Harry needed air.

Pushing back to the surface, Harry filled his lungs with a few big breaths before again diving below the frigid surface. Dr. Ahmad was now half out the door. Harry pulled himself back into the cab of the sunken helicopter and felt for the restraining object. The seatbelt Dr. Ahmad had not worn was tangled around his ankle. Harry reached along his leg and pulled the scalpel free from his stocking. He used his teeth to remove the scalpel's protective plastic sheath and began cutting the seatbelt loose. In a few seconds, Dr. Ahmad began to float free and Harry pushed him toward the surface. Breaking the surface, Harry recharged his lungs and began hauling Dr. Ahmad to shore.

Dragging the unconscious body of Dr. Ahmad onto the rocky shore, Harry laid him facing downhill and began CPR by first checking for a heartbeat. There was none. Harry performed a pericardial thump by striking Dr. Ahmad on the chest and began CPR compressions. With every compression, water drained from Dr. Ahmad's mouth. When the flow of water decreased Harry told Angie, "Start giving mouth-to-mouth on my call."

Angie looked at the gun she was holding and then at the unconscious maybe un-living form of the man who had abducted her and called her his angel. Touching him was going to be tough. She was brought back to the present when Harry told her, "Set the gun down by my feet and start the mouth-to-mouth. You'll have to pinch his nose shut to make it work."

Angie did as directed, and when Harry stopped his chest compressions she blew into the cold mouth of Dr. Ahmad for all she was worth. When Harry said, "Off" she stopped blowing and lifted her head. Harry pressed Ahmad's chest rhythmically five times, then stopped to allow Angie to fill Dr. Ahmad's lungs with her life breath. After several minutes Angie asked, "Is there any hope?"

Harry responded, "This cold water should have stimulated the diving reflex which would have protected his brain. If we can get his heart started, he might make it. Not sure about the head injury."

They continued in their rhythm trying to push oxygen into Dr. Ahmad's lungs and blood from his heart through his lungs and into his brain. The nighttime cold was settling in and Harry was working naked except for his operational shoes. Angie was cold wearing her dry dress and the raincoat. She wanted to make Harry stop the CPR and get dressed, but they continued his chest compressions and the rhythm of her breathing for Dr. Ahmad.

After what must have been 10 or 15 minutes, Harry suddenly stopped Angie as she was about to transfer her air to Dr. Ahmad. Harry felt Dr. Ahmad's neck and said, "We have a pulse."

A gasping, rattling issued from deep within Dr. Ahmad's chest. His first few tentative breaths were followed by violent coughing. The dead Dr. Ahmad was coming back to life. He remained unconscious but was definitely breathing on his own. Harry pulled Dr. Ahmad into a sitting position and had his two associates move tightly against him in an attempt to provide some warmth. At this point Angie insisted, "Harry, you must be freezing. Put some clothes on."

Harry obeyed, then heard a distant voice in the darkness. He asked, "Who's that?"

Angie replied first saying, "Someone started yelling for help about the time the helicopter crashed."

Harry turned towards Dr. Ahmad's pilot and asked, "Who's back there?"

The pilot's teeth were chattering so bad he had trouble responding, "The charter pilot. He's tied to a tree."

Harry handed Angie the gun and said, "I'm going to check it out. If they move shoot them. We really need a fire." Angie simply nodded.

Harry left Angie and moved off in the direction of the voice. He had dropped his scalpel after freeing Dr. Ahmad and was now without any weapons. At least moving provided some warmth. The night was dark except for the stars and Harry moved by keeping his orientation with the stars and separating the total darkness of the woods from the dappled darkness in the marshy area. At least his feet didn't hurt. The cold was good for something.

Creeping along the edge of the marsh to an area close to the first helicopter crash Harry projected, "Where are you?"

A voice to the left said, "Over here. What's happened?"

Harry moved slowly in the darkness feeling his way. His hand touched first the tree limbs and then the head of someone against a tree. The voice said, "I was afraid they were going to leave me here."

Harry responded, "They were." Before undoing the belt binding the man's hands, Harry patted him down and removed a small automatic pistol from his coat pocket. He then undid the belt and asked, "What's the pistol for?"

The man replied, "Dr. Ahmad said he thought there had been some sabotage and told me to come prepared. I would guess it was more than sabotage."

Harry snorted and said, "You would be correct. My name is Harry Williams. I have been trying to stop Dr. Ahmad's terrorist plot."

" Marty O'Hara. I operate a small charter outfit outside of Thunder Bay. I thought Dr. Ahmad ran a cellular phone outfit. I've provided charter service for his company for many years."

Harry explained, "The Telephone Company is a front for his development and use of brain worms. I need to contact the authorities. Any ideas?"

"Don't imagine the radio in my helicopter would be of much use. What do you mean by brain worms?"

"I'll explain later. Let's check out the Huey and see if its radio works. Hopefully we can get some jet fuel for a fire."

Marty said, "It's upright but was set down pretty hard. Somebody took out the tail rotor."

"Do you have a fix on its position?"

"Just to the left of Polaris and about 50 steps. Do you want me to lead?"

Harry said, "Yup, I'll count."

Marty moved off keeping track of the North Star as he traversed his mental path to the helicopter. As they neared the downed chopper a faint red glow was visible from the instrument panel. It made identification easy but also meant the master switch had been left on and now the battery was almost dead. The radio would be worthless. The door was ajar and Harry forced it wider open. In the dim light they looked for a container to carry jet fuel, but a large coffee thermos was all they found. Harry said, "Fill this with jet fuel from the belly sumps. I'm going to strip the interior blankets."

Marty shook as much coffee out of the thermos as he could. Crawling beneath the damaged helicopter, Marty felt for the fuel sumps and began filling the thermos. The helicopter shook as Harry pulled insulating interior blankets from the airframe without taking time to undo the snaps carefully. By the time Harry had removed six of the liner blankets Marty had filled the thermos. Harry had a large pile of the soundproofing blankets and was debating how to carry them. Marty recommended using the helicopter door, so Harry pulled the emergency jettison handle, freeing the hinge pins. The door fell free with a little help from Harry. They piled the blankets on the door and worked their way back to the shoreline.

Walking sideways, carrying the door between them like a table piled with the blankets, the going was slow. When they returned to the shore, the coldness of the night was even more evident and wisps of fog obscured the stars at times. Harry gently wrapped one of the blankets around Angie who was shivering despite her pacing back and forth holding the gun. Harry introduced Marty and Angie. He then charged Marty with trying to cover the unconscious Dr. Ahmad and his associates, who were developing hypothermia.

Harry took the paper chart which he had pulled from the helicopter and began tearing half of it into one-inch strips about 10 inches long. He then created a small depression and put the remaining part of the chart down as a liner. He partially soaked the strips in the jet fuel and poured about half the remaining jet fuel into his paper container on the ground. He laid the strips so that the wet portion was in contact with the small pool of jet fuel. Harry then took Marty's small 38 caliber pistol out of his pocket and removed one of the shells. He used his powerful fingers and teeth to remove the bullet and carefully dumped the gunpowder on the dry portion of the paper strips. Placing the now empty round in the chamber, Harry told Angie to step back. Holding the tip of the barrel next to his gunpowder, paper and jet fuel mixture, Harry pulled the trigger. The hammer struck the primer, which ignited, sending a shower of sparks out the gun barrel. A few of the sparks landed on the gunpowder and ignited it. The smoking flame of the gunpowder gradually transferred enough heat to light the paper. Bending down and blowing ever so gently, Harry nursed his fire along. The jet fuel gradually caught and the fire spread toward the pool of jet fuel.

It was a smoky fire but provided heat and a little light. Harry asked Marty to gather some firewood. Taking the large helicopter door, Harry propped it up behind Dr. Ahmad trying to reflect more heat onto his unconscious body. He then stood next to Angie and shared her blanket. The wood Marty added provided a nice crackling sound to their fire, and the darkness was much less oppressive dispelled by the fire's warm glow.

The stillness of this night was shattered with a sudden low-level fly over by two military jets. They passed over and pulled into a vertical roll followed by another pass-over. The noise was enough to arouse the unconscious Dr. Ahmad. As his vision cleared, he saw Angie in the light of the fire. He spoke slowly and somewhat garbled saying simply, "My Angel."

Angie replied, "That would be Mrs. Harry Williams to you."

***

The End

The concept of brain worms is based on an actual case we had at my hospital. Their medical use as a means of producing and secreting essential human factors such as dopamine and insulin is a potential which we have not yet tapped.

I hope you enjoyed the reading of this as much as I enjoyed the writing. My surgical career ended when I developed rheumatoid arthritis but the closing of that door opened the door of writing and living in worlds of my imagination. I still enjoy life despite my medical issues and will continue writing both fiction and medical works.

I would like to thank my wife for her support and encouragement.

Contact me with comments or questions at:

Dockaluza@gmail.com

Smashwords:https://www.smashwords.com/DocKaluza

<http://www.facebook.com/pages/Doc-Kaluza/172455206099307?v=wall>

Cover by Vila Design

