Hell For Hobbes continued...
Part 2: Hobbes's Hunt
He woke up on a floor. It wasn't a familiar floor. He was feeling dizzy and confused and looked around. There were empty beer cans all around him. He got up and headed to the door and discovered that he had spent the night at some trashy inn downtown.
"What the hell am I doing here?" he thought out loud. He headed down the hall and put his hands in his pockets. Nothing was there. His badge was gone. Flashbacks from the previous day hit him. He also had a headache. A bad headache from a hangover and stress.
"I'm done with the agency" he announced to himself feeling depressed. "But I am going to avenge you Fawkes, no matter what buddy. I'm going to get behind all this goddam crap, and whoever is behind it is going to pay. With their life." he added very seriously.
Bobby spent the next three hours trying to get away from his headache, creating himself a new identity, and getting rid of all of his possibly bugged clothes. He avoided his van and took busses. He searched the large and small airports for anything, and finally found something slightly odd in a nearby small airport's records. A plane bound for Venezuela with only 3/4 of the fuel necessary to reach it. The plane had left less than 40 minutes after Darien's gland had been given to the Eggassoles.
Hobbes walked into the control room at the tiny airport since noone was at the front desk. It was poorly lit inside and very hot. The walls were falling apart and the place was badly in need of repairs. There was a geeky looking guy about eighteen maybe twenty years old in the back of the room looking at some maps.
"Hey, um, hi. I was wondering if you could give me some information..." he started to say.
"Damn right I can if it's got anything to do with planes," the kid cut in. "I been runnin this joint alone two years now since ol' Pops died, and Ive lived here all my life flying in planes since i was born. Hell, I was almost born in a plane."
"Great. But I was wondering about a certain plane that took off earlier today. I called about a half hour ago and..."
"Oh, right, yeah." The kid looked dissapointed that Hobbes didn't want to talk about the planes themselves. "Man, I wont forget that plane. Those folks were wacko. They were supposed to take off for Venezuela, but instead they headed north. Sort of. By the way, I'm Wayne Dale."
"Hi Wayne. Im Bobby Hobbes. What does that mean, sort of?"
"Well, dude, you see, it gets boring sittin in here all the time since I dont got the money to pay for gas to fly every day and I got to run the joint so I got a radar thing I built and set up for my computer here. It's for, well, tracking a flight and.."
"No shit?"
"Yeah, see?" Dale led Hobbes over to his computer. Unlike everything else in the place, this looked high tech and new. "It's a very powerful machine. I got the ability to track flights all the way around the world pretty much, not to mention record every change in direction to the last degree. I guess it's kind of illegal probably, but hell dude, I'm just bored."
It sounded good to Hobbes. "So you recorded this flight, right?"
"Yeah, cause they looked and acted so frickin odd. There was three of them all dressed in black suits and the woman was carrying a metal case. They were so pushy and they hardly said a damn word, acting all formal and suspicious like terrorists or agents or something like that, thinking they were hot shit or something, I don't know. They had their own mini jet plane, man was it a beauty Im tellin you. Anyhow, they logged in as a flight to Venezuela, but first of all they only had the tank full enough to go 3/4 of the trip. I thought it was weird but they seemed to know what they were doing and I was kinda afraid to get in their way and tell them about it."
"So then where did they go?" Hobbes was getting very interested and was positive these were the people he was after.
"Not sure man. I quit tracking after a while."
"Damn. Where were they headed then?"
"Well, dude, like I said before, they were weird. You have to see the path. They took off on the runway heading dead west. Then they kept changing directions to different degrees every five minutes on the dot."
"Weird. Did you save what you traced?"
Dale turned on his computer and typed something in. "Um, yeah, it's still here but I stopped before they stopped, and as you can see here, look, they keep switching which way theyre going, and somehow, at the lastest point that I recorded, they are in Canada." He was pointing to the map traced on the screen."
"Hmm, I don't get it. Do you Wayne?"
"I'm not completely sure, but it appeared to me that they had some sort of mathematical pattern set up for the degrees that they change. And since I was so bored at the time, I figured a possible equation out. You see, the first time they changed their direction 5 degrees Northwest, or to their right, from going straight west. Then, they go 24 degrees SW, or left, from the direction that they were then headed. Then they change 123 degrees to the right. See the pattern?"
"I see they are going right, left, right, left, but I dont get the numbers part."
Wayne didn't look frustrated and actually seemed to be enjoying explaining his theory to Hobbes. "Ok, look. Here's the equation I came up with. Take the 5 degrees to the power (n+1) and then subtract n, like this: 5^(n+1) - n. Pretend that n is equal to the number of changes in direction that they have made in turning. Put 0 in for n and you get 5 degrees, that is the first turn. Put 1 in for n and you get 24 degrees..."
"Ouch, math. I think I get it. And so on the third turn you put 3 in for the n and you get 123 degrees. They just switch left then right each time they change direction, and they change direction every five minutes. Right then left then right then left then.."
"Ok dude, great. Now what?"
"Do you think I could take a plane up and try to find where they went by your method?"
"Yeah, sure, I will help. You don't know how to fly do you?"
"No"
"Ok I'll take you in my plane. No prescheduled flights outta here or coming in for the next four days."
"Really? Great! How soon can we go, Wayne?"
Dale computed some stuff on his computer and printed it out before shutting it off. "Now. I got the plane ready earlier and was about to lock the joint up when you showed up. I was planning to go flying anyway."
"Great. Well then let's go." replied Hobbes as he headed for the doorway with Dale following behind.
Part 2: Hobbes's Hunt
He woke up on a floor. It wasn't a familiar floor. He was feeling dizzy and confused and looked around. There were empty beer cans all around him. He got up and headed to the door and discovered that he had spent the night at some trashy inn downtown.
"What the hell am I doing here?" he thought out loud. He headed down the hall and put his hands in his pockets. Nothing was there. His badge was gone. Flashbacks from the previous day hit him. He also had a headache. A bad headache from a hangover and stress.
"I'm done with the agency" he announced to himself feeling depressed. "But I am going to avenge you Fawkes, no matter what buddy. I'm going to get behind all this goddam crap, and whoever is behind it is going to pay. With their life." he added very seriously.
Bobby spent the next three hours trying to get away from his headache, creating himself a new identity, and getting rid of all of his possibly bugged clothes. He avoided his van and took busses. He searched the large and small airports for anything, and finally found something slightly odd in a nearby small airport's records. A plane bound for Venezuela with only 3/4 of the fuel necessary to reach it. The plane had left less than 40 minutes after Darien's gland had been given to the Eggassoles.
Hobbes walked into the control room at the tiny airport since noone was at the front desk. It was poorly lit inside and very hot. The walls were falling apart and the place was badly in need of repairs. There was a geeky looking guy about eighteen maybe twenty years old in the back of the room looking at some maps.
"Hey, um, hi. I was wondering if you could give me some information..." he started to say.
"Damn right I can if it's got anything to do with planes," the kid cut in. "I been runnin this joint alone two years now since ol' Pops died, and Ive lived here all my life flying in planes since i was born. Hell, I was almost born in a plane."
"Great. But I was wondering about a certain plane that took off earlier today. I called about a half hour ago and..."
"Oh, right, yeah." The kid looked dissapointed that Hobbes didn't want to talk about the planes themselves. "Man, I wont forget that plane. Those folks were wacko. They were supposed to take off for Venezuela, but instead they headed north. Sort of. By the way, I'm Wayne Dale."
"Hi Wayne. Im Bobby Hobbes. What does that mean, sort of?"
"Well, dude, you see, it gets boring sittin in here all the time since I dont got the money to pay for gas to fly every day and I got to run the joint so I got a radar thing I built and set up for my computer here. It's for, well, tracking a flight and.."
"No shit?"
"Yeah, see?" Dale led Hobbes over to his computer. Unlike everything else in the place, this looked high tech and new. "It's a very powerful machine. I got the ability to track flights all the way around the world pretty much, not to mention record every change in direction to the last degree. I guess it's kind of illegal probably, but hell dude, I'm just bored."
It sounded good to Hobbes. "So you recorded this flight, right?"
"Yeah, cause they looked and acted so frickin odd. There was three of them all dressed in black suits and the woman was carrying a metal case. They were so pushy and they hardly said a damn word, acting all formal and suspicious like terrorists or agents or something like that, thinking they were hot shit or something, I don't know. They had their own mini jet plane, man was it a beauty Im tellin you. Anyhow, they logged in as a flight to Venezuela, but first of all they only had the tank full enough to go 3/4 of the trip. I thought it was weird but they seemed to know what they were doing and I was kinda afraid to get in their way and tell them about it."
"So then where did they go?" Hobbes was getting very interested and was positive these were the people he was after.
"Not sure man. I quit tracking after a while."
"Damn. Where were they headed then?"
"Well, dude, like I said before, they were weird. You have to see the path. They took off on the runway heading dead west. Then they kept changing directions to different degrees every five minutes on the dot."
"Weird. Did you save what you traced?"
Dale turned on his computer and typed something in. "Um, yeah, it's still here but I stopped before they stopped, and as you can see here, look, they keep switching which way theyre going, and somehow, at the lastest point that I recorded, they are in Canada." He was pointing to the map traced on the screen."
"Hmm, I don't get it. Do you Wayne?"
"I'm not completely sure, but it appeared to me that they had some sort of mathematical pattern set up for the degrees that they change. And since I was so bored at the time, I figured a possible equation out. You see, the first time they changed their direction 5 degrees Northwest, or to their right, from going straight west. Then, they go 24 degrees SW, or left, from the direction that they were then headed. Then they change 123 degrees to the right. See the pattern?"
"I see they are going right, left, right, left, but I dont get the numbers part."
Wayne didn't look frustrated and actually seemed to be enjoying explaining his theory to Hobbes. "Ok, look. Here's the equation I came up with. Take the 5 degrees to the power (n+1) and then subtract n, like this: 5^(n+1) - n. Pretend that n is equal to the number of changes in direction that they have made in turning. Put 0 in for n and you get 5 degrees, that is the first turn. Put 1 in for n and you get 24 degrees..."
"Ouch, math. I think I get it. And so on the third turn you put 3 in for the n and you get 123 degrees. They just switch left then right each time they change direction, and they change direction every five minutes. Right then left then right then left then.."
"Ok dude, great. Now what?"
"Do you think I could take a plane up and try to find where they went by your method?"
"Yeah, sure, I will help. You don't know how to fly do you?"
"No"
"Ok I'll take you in my plane. No prescheduled flights outta here or coming in for the next four days."
"Really? Great! How soon can we go, Wayne?"
Dale computed some stuff on his computer and printed it out before shutting it off. "Now. I got the plane ready earlier and was about to lock the joint up when you showed up. I was planning to go flying anyway."
"Great. Well then let's go." replied Hobbes as he headed for the doorway with Dale following behind.