The guard at the driveway went around the car with a flashlight only once, then, to his surprise, he opened the gate without asking for their ID.
"What's up with him?"
"We were announced. Put the car in my parking lot, yes?"
Steve followed the request and parked in the disabled parking space next to the building where Sara's office was located. Sara stopped at the gate. "I know your gun is out in the car. Can you please give him your phone? "She asked hesitantly.
She didn't give him an explanation, but seemed to be serious. He took the device out of his pocket, switched it off and gave it to the guard. He put it in a box, locked it and gave him the key. "Thank you, Sir."
"I'm really curious to see what this is supposed to be," Steve moped, "you're acting very weird." He stepped into the elevator behind Sara and watched her choosing the 2nd basement, instead of the button for the floor where her office was. Then she pulled out her cell phone and turned it off. "Isn't that the wrong direction?"
"No. Steve ... You know I'm working as analyst for various agencies. Sometimes I run along at conferences as an inconspicuous assistant and watch the negotiating partners there. Or I give preliminary assessments based on videos."
"Yes?" They ran down a hallway. "You're doing personal administration for the rest of the time, for what I know. Or not?"
"It's true. I never lied to you about my job. I spend about half of my working time dealing with files and information requests like those in the Ponders case. I've only been doing this since the accident. Before that, I also went abroad for assignments."
"Sure. What are you getting at?" He watched with interest as Sara stopped in front of a steel door, entered a PIN and scanned her ID. Another device hung next to the card reader, on which she put her index finger. A brief flash of light indicated that her fingerprint had been checked. After that he heard a soft click and the door opened. They entered a short, narrow corridor, one side of which was covered with filing cabinets and shelves full of files, and from which another door opened. "Has this always been here, or is it new?"
"The basic equipment was there, a lot was added when I came here." She entered the room behind the second door, which was barely lit by a small red lamp, and operated a switch on the wall next to it. The next moment he was briefly blinded when a huge monitor flashed on the small side of the room. A computer started with a low whir. Subtle indirect lighting came on at the edges of the ceiling. By now the room was so bright that he could see details. The large monitor was over three meters in diameter and was flanked by smaller ones on the adjacent wall. In the middle of the room, at a sufficient distance from the monitor to be able to capture the image well, was a small version of the computer desk like they had at Five-0 headquarters, in front of which was an cushioned chair, including a stool. A filigree headset lay on the worktop. On the opposite side, on his right, there was a cupboard with several doors and drawers, the color of which was matched to the walls and hardly noticed. As he continued into the room, a cork floor swallowed every sound of his footsteps.
"What is this? A branch of the NSA? CIA?"
"The space I use for video analysis and conferences. For various authorities." Sara put her handbag in a cabinet drawer. "The system is very sensitive. That's why the cell phones are switched off. You wouldn't get any connection down here anyway. I activate the video connection. The Rear Admiral may not like the fact you are here, but you might be able to help."
"You can explain to me for what, just on occasion," etched Steve, who felt more and more strange. The next moment he regretted the tone when he saw Sara's uncertain and hurt look. Before he could say anything to take it back, she turned away from him, took the headset off the table, and put it on her ear. She typed on the display. He pulled back into a corner while the loading bar on the monitor reached 100 percent.
Sara stood to attention next to the work table. An elderly man in Navy camouflage appeared larger than life on the screen.
"Admiral Brown, here Sara McGarrett. Excuse my inappropriate clothes, sir ... "
"I'm aware you probably had other plans tonight. Who is that? "Interrupted the uniformed man on the monitor.
"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. Former member of SEAL Team 7, currently head of the Five-0 Task Force in Hawaii. My husband, he drove me here. His experience might be useful to us." Sara noticed Steve stepped next to her and also braced.
The admiral seemed to nod to someone, then replied, "Facial recognition was positive. He's permitted to stay."
"Thank you, Sir," Steve said, which the admiral nodded and announced: "I'll start the upload while I inform you." Sara sat down at the table and entered a few commands. "Just over eighteen hours ago, around 6:20 pm local time, one of our helicopters came down in Afghanistan, in the Helmand province." Grainy satellite images appeared on the monitor, taken after dark. "It wasn't shot down. This is the first puzzle that concerns us. The pilot made a pretty hard landing, but everyone on board survived, albeit injured. Eleven men have already been recovered, they were able to entrench themselves after the impact and have now been picked up. The pilot says everything was perfectly normal. Suddenly the tail rotor failed."
"A technical defect is ruled out?" Steve intervened.
"Headset, top drawer on the right. There are no room microphones here, "Sara replied and changed the view so the admiral only took up a small window while the satellite image was now displayed in full size.
"No technical defect, sir?" Steve repeated the question when he found and activated the headset.
"No. Take a closer look at the pictures."
Sara enlarged the helicopter section again, her husband stepped closer to the monitor. "What's this? Bird strike? But this doesn't look like a bird."
"Because it is not. It is a drone. Not a military one, to be exact. Remains have been found near the helicopter. As effective as bird strike if used in the right place."
"What's all this crap?" Steve said.
"A test run for a new and simple method of air defense?" Sara said.
"We assume that too. But that's not why I called you. Our technology specialists deal with this."
"Then we can go home," Steve said hard.
Sara shrugged apologetically when the admiral looked at her sharply.
"Your skills are needed for something else, Commander."
"Yes?" Both replied reflexively at the same time. Then Sara cleared her throat. "Sir, maybe you should use our first names for now, that could make things easier. I guess it's about the twelfth man? You have problems finding his whereabouts."
"Exactly ... Sara."
"May I ask again where Fred Bendixson is? And his team? They are with you, closer to the action. And the teams on site? I am not up to date with Afghanistan."
"Flu. Bendixson is currently only able to communicate in writing, apart from high fever. Likewise, several of his colleagues. There is only a minimal staff on site, reinforcements from the north of the country are on the way, but that takes time. I only have four newbies available here, all of whom make vague statements but don't want to commit to anything. With you, I was sure you could contribute constructively. In a moment you'll see why. "Another window with a photo and data appeared on the monitor. "Chief Special Warfare Operator Brian Masterson. He was sitting at the open door during the flight. When the machine started to spin, he was thrown out. He survived, we know that. However, it was no longer possible to get him out."
Sara noticed how Steve's body tension changed, he was still standing diagonally in front of her next to the monitor. "You know him?"
"The face looks familiar to me. How do you know he's still alive?"
"There was a short radio contact. It broke off at 6:34 p.m. local time. He said he was only slightly injured. He landed on something that caught his fall. What exactly is not known. As unlikely as it is, the only bush in a few square kilometers. His team was brought out shortly thereafter. We got this one five hours later. "
Another window opened on the monitor. It was a video showing the chief sitting on the floor in a windowless, bare room. He was still wearing a T-shirt and shorts, his hands were tied in front of his body. He had scratches on various limbs, but looked in relatively good condition.