HOSTILE TAKEOVER
BY AJ Squaredaway
PART SEVEN
Sam felt the alarms going off in his head. He calmed Beth down, and she pulled herself together quickly. He had to admire her; she could work under stress. The clock was ticking on this one, and his desire to be with his friend was overwhelming. He had to get down there. But how?
Just then Chuck sauntered up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pile of papers in his hand. "Hey, Billy, who's your helper?" He asked quietly, nodding his head towards Beth.
"Oh. She's the wife of one of the hostages. She's been able to put some names to some faces for me."
He chuckled quietly and shook his head. "I don't know where you get these plans, Billy-boy, but I guess ya gotta milk any cow you can get for information, huh?"
Sam didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.
Chuck rubbed his forehead. "This is weird, Billy. I thought we were dealing with an organized group here, and would have their demands by now. I wonder what's up their sleeves?"
"No list of demands yet?"
"No. And the longer we wait the more nervous I get. There's something not right here. So, who are these guys?"
Sam started in on what he had. Chuck was amazed at the amount of information Sam had, but passed off any comment with a clap to the back that nearly knocked Sam off his feet. "You keep this up, and you're going to have nothing to do!" He commented.
Sam brightened. "I know. My guys are doing great and don't really need me. So, I want to be on the entry team."
Chuck looked stunned. "What? You gave that up years ago! And we need you here..."
Sam cut him off. "No, you don't. My guys are doing great, just like you said. And I am the most experienced, right?" Sam took a gamble with that comment, but with the respect William Takeshta seemed to command, he didn't think he was far off.
"Well, maybe." Chuck studied him closely. "And they do need the experience, now that they have to make two entry teams. You sure about this?"
Sam nodded. "Extremely."
"I know they have the van team already lined up. You'd be needed on the tunnel team."
"Yeah, I know." In reality, he didn't know, but was pleased at the luck.
Chuck seemed to be calculating in his head. "OK, I'll see what I can do. Stand by."
"Yes, sir," Sam automatically answered, causing Chuck to guffaw loudly.
" 'Sir'! You crack me up, Billy!" Shaking his head, he walked away.
***************
Al thought his head was going to explode. He was careful not to move as he slowly came back to consciousness, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Was the buzzing he heard in his head, or real? Mentally pushing the throbbing aside, he concentrated on the noise and it slowly morphed into a man's voice. It sounded like it was right in front of him.
Moving his head ever so slightly, he made sure he was facing the noise. He cracked an eyelid just enough to make out movement in the dark, then was suddenly blinded by a bright light. Was he dead? Was this the tunnel to...where ever it was those near-death experiences went to? He saw the shape of a person in front of the bright light, then the shape stepped back.
An angel?
Beth?
Al held back from calling to the form, and it disappeared. He squinted, trying to see it again, but it was gone. His thinking was fuzzy for a few moments more, and then the buzzing in his head again transformed into a man's voice, which was coming from a shadow of a man near the wall. As his thinking cleared, he dismissed the thoughts of Beth and the angel from his head. The pain made it obvious he was still alive.
From what Al could see, the shadow-man was by himself, carrying on a conversation in ... Chinese? Al shut his eyes again, took a relaxing breath, and listened again. It was Chinese. Not all Chinese, though. The conversation was interlaced with Arabic.
Again he opened his eye, but just enough to verify what he heard. The bi-lingual man was talking to the wall. No, he had something in his hand. Ignoring the drumbeats in his head, Al concentrated on the man and focused his woozy thinking process. The man was talking on a phone that was hard wired into the mass of cables in the ceiling of the tunnel.
He had a contact somewhere on the outside! A contact who spoke Chinese?
For the third time he wondered if he was hallucinating, but the taste of blood on his tongue, as well as the conga drums playing in his skull convinced him this was reality. Al didn't know any Chinese, but he did recognize one term the man had just used, and it was the term for the Chinese Silkworm missile. Al quickly put together the connection; those were the types of missiles used to guard the entrance to the Persian Gulf!
Then Al heard two other terms he knew, 'Starbright' and 'Quantum Leap', and knew a deal was going down. These terrorists were mercenaries, and they had an outside contact!
*************************
Project Quantum Leap
Stallion's Gate, New Mexico
Donna knew that time counted on this one. Even Ziggy may not be fast enough when the time came for information. What they needed was information accessible in a heartbeat, and the Visitor was the only source on hand with this expertise.
She strode into Dr. Beeks office and brainstormed the situation. If things started moving quickly in D.C. they knew the Visitor could turn the tide. If he would help was another question.
"We've built up an unspoken bond of respect," Verbena commented. "I think he'd listen to me. Shall I tell him everything?"
Donna went with her gut instinct. "Yes," she said without hesitation.
"Stay here," the psychiatrist said as she left her office. Donna watched through the one-way glass as Dr. Beeks entered the room. The image of Sam's body was on top of the bed reading a book, and straightened up when the doctor entered. The fact that a Marine guard stood just inside the closed door didn't escape the Visitor's notice, and Donna grinned at the ploy. The Marine's presence added to the doc's credibility.
Sam's face was unreadable as he sat with his hands crossed in his lap. Donna could see Verbena's hands and mouth moving as she spoke, apparently with no response from the Visitor. Then, Verbena rolled a small, metal table to the bedside, and cleared off the top. She pointed at the reflective surface, and Donna saw the man hesitate. Verbena crossed her arms and took a step back, waiting.
Billy Takeshta wasn't an impulsive man, but he obviously was a curious one. It was just a matter of minutes before he leaned over the table. Donna had to admire him for his restraint, and knew it was involuntary motion that made his hands go to his face. That seemed to be the first motion a Visitor did upon seeing Sam's face returning in a reflection, and it made her smile. Some things were consistent in a leap, after all!
FBI Command Post
Washington, D.C.
Sam spent the time conversing with Beth, trying to keep her distracted. She was able to identify two more people by the time Chuck returned.
"McMartin was relieved you volunteered. He was short handed. Get over to his station to get geared up. I think we trained everyone on the team, so they'll know you!" His short laugh made Sam wonder what he meant by that. "Hey," he added as he turned to go. "The demands came through finally. And boy, are they weird. Something's going on here that we don't know about."
Sam's eyebrows crawled up to his hairline, and he felt goosebumps on his arms. He didn't like the sound of this. He stopped Chuck from leaving with a touch to his arm, then asked. "What are they?"
Chuck consulted his paper. "Well, they want the immediate release of Fazir Gha'bi from prison in Israel. He's up there with Bin Laudin as far as terrorist leaders go, and they want some government secrets."
"Which secrets?"
"Real secret-secrets. Black project stuff, I guess. Something called Starbright, and another called Quantum Leap. I've never heard of them, but the upper mucky-mucks sure are tightlipped about 'em. I don't see how they expect us to negotiate with something we know nothin' about." He flipped the paper back in a file and walked off, shaking his head and mumbling about keeping secrets from the FBI.
Sam felt the blood drain from his face. He hardly heard Chuck finish his thought before he moved away. How did they know about the Project? Was Al the target all along? Or Weitzman?
Is that why he was here?
Somewhat dazed, Sam returned to Beth and thanked her for her help. Since the airport bar host had given her a ride to the Command Post, she had no way to leave so Sam told her that she could stay at his station. He left instructions with Scanlon to take over, and to keep and eye on Beth.
It was all he could do to keep from running to the staging area for the entry teams. The thought that he might get killed right along with Al didn't even cross his mind.
BY AJ Squaredaway
PART SEVEN
Sam felt the alarms going off in his head. He calmed Beth down, and she pulled herself together quickly. He had to admire her; she could work under stress. The clock was ticking on this one, and his desire to be with his friend was overwhelming. He had to get down there. But how?
Just then Chuck sauntered up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pile of papers in his hand. "Hey, Billy, who's your helper?" He asked quietly, nodding his head towards Beth.
"Oh. She's the wife of one of the hostages. She's been able to put some names to some faces for me."
He chuckled quietly and shook his head. "I don't know where you get these plans, Billy-boy, but I guess ya gotta milk any cow you can get for information, huh?"
Sam didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.
Chuck rubbed his forehead. "This is weird, Billy. I thought we were dealing with an organized group here, and would have their demands by now. I wonder what's up their sleeves?"
"No list of demands yet?"
"No. And the longer we wait the more nervous I get. There's something not right here. So, who are these guys?"
Sam started in on what he had. Chuck was amazed at the amount of information Sam had, but passed off any comment with a clap to the back that nearly knocked Sam off his feet. "You keep this up, and you're going to have nothing to do!" He commented.
Sam brightened. "I know. My guys are doing great and don't really need me. So, I want to be on the entry team."
Chuck looked stunned. "What? You gave that up years ago! And we need you here..."
Sam cut him off. "No, you don't. My guys are doing great, just like you said. And I am the most experienced, right?" Sam took a gamble with that comment, but with the respect William Takeshta seemed to command, he didn't think he was far off.
"Well, maybe." Chuck studied him closely. "And they do need the experience, now that they have to make two entry teams. You sure about this?"
Sam nodded. "Extremely."
"I know they have the van team already lined up. You'd be needed on the tunnel team."
"Yeah, I know." In reality, he didn't know, but was pleased at the luck.
Chuck seemed to be calculating in his head. "OK, I'll see what I can do. Stand by."
"Yes, sir," Sam automatically answered, causing Chuck to guffaw loudly.
" 'Sir'! You crack me up, Billy!" Shaking his head, he walked away.
***************
Al thought his head was going to explode. He was careful not to move as he slowly came back to consciousness, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Was the buzzing he heard in his head, or real? Mentally pushing the throbbing aside, he concentrated on the noise and it slowly morphed into a man's voice. It sounded like it was right in front of him.
Moving his head ever so slightly, he made sure he was facing the noise. He cracked an eyelid just enough to make out movement in the dark, then was suddenly blinded by a bright light. Was he dead? Was this the tunnel to...where ever it was those near-death experiences went to? He saw the shape of a person in front of the bright light, then the shape stepped back.
An angel?
Beth?
Al held back from calling to the form, and it disappeared. He squinted, trying to see it again, but it was gone. His thinking was fuzzy for a few moments more, and then the buzzing in his head again transformed into a man's voice, which was coming from a shadow of a man near the wall. As his thinking cleared, he dismissed the thoughts of Beth and the angel from his head. The pain made it obvious he was still alive.
From what Al could see, the shadow-man was by himself, carrying on a conversation in ... Chinese? Al shut his eyes again, took a relaxing breath, and listened again. It was Chinese. Not all Chinese, though. The conversation was interlaced with Arabic.
Again he opened his eye, but just enough to verify what he heard. The bi-lingual man was talking to the wall. No, he had something in his hand. Ignoring the drumbeats in his head, Al concentrated on the man and focused his woozy thinking process. The man was talking on a phone that was hard wired into the mass of cables in the ceiling of the tunnel.
He had a contact somewhere on the outside! A contact who spoke Chinese?
For the third time he wondered if he was hallucinating, but the taste of blood on his tongue, as well as the conga drums playing in his skull convinced him this was reality. Al didn't know any Chinese, but he did recognize one term the man had just used, and it was the term for the Chinese Silkworm missile. Al quickly put together the connection; those were the types of missiles used to guard the entrance to the Persian Gulf!
Then Al heard two other terms he knew, 'Starbright' and 'Quantum Leap', and knew a deal was going down. These terrorists were mercenaries, and they had an outside contact!
*************************
Project Quantum Leap
Stallion's Gate, New Mexico
Donna knew that time counted on this one. Even Ziggy may not be fast enough when the time came for information. What they needed was information accessible in a heartbeat, and the Visitor was the only source on hand with this expertise.
She strode into Dr. Beeks office and brainstormed the situation. If things started moving quickly in D.C. they knew the Visitor could turn the tide. If he would help was another question.
"We've built up an unspoken bond of respect," Verbena commented. "I think he'd listen to me. Shall I tell him everything?"
Donna went with her gut instinct. "Yes," she said without hesitation.
"Stay here," the psychiatrist said as she left her office. Donna watched through the one-way glass as Dr. Beeks entered the room. The image of Sam's body was on top of the bed reading a book, and straightened up when the doctor entered. The fact that a Marine guard stood just inside the closed door didn't escape the Visitor's notice, and Donna grinned at the ploy. The Marine's presence added to the doc's credibility.
Sam's face was unreadable as he sat with his hands crossed in his lap. Donna could see Verbena's hands and mouth moving as she spoke, apparently with no response from the Visitor. Then, Verbena rolled a small, metal table to the bedside, and cleared off the top. She pointed at the reflective surface, and Donna saw the man hesitate. Verbena crossed her arms and took a step back, waiting.
Billy Takeshta wasn't an impulsive man, but he obviously was a curious one. It was just a matter of minutes before he leaned over the table. Donna had to admire him for his restraint, and knew it was involuntary motion that made his hands go to his face. That seemed to be the first motion a Visitor did upon seeing Sam's face returning in a reflection, and it made her smile. Some things were consistent in a leap, after all!
FBI Command Post
Washington, D.C.
Sam spent the time conversing with Beth, trying to keep her distracted. She was able to identify two more people by the time Chuck returned.
"McMartin was relieved you volunteered. He was short handed. Get over to his station to get geared up. I think we trained everyone on the team, so they'll know you!" His short laugh made Sam wonder what he meant by that. "Hey," he added as he turned to go. "The demands came through finally. And boy, are they weird. Something's going on here that we don't know about."
Sam's eyebrows crawled up to his hairline, and he felt goosebumps on his arms. He didn't like the sound of this. He stopped Chuck from leaving with a touch to his arm, then asked. "What are they?"
Chuck consulted his paper. "Well, they want the immediate release of Fazir Gha'bi from prison in Israel. He's up there with Bin Laudin as far as terrorist leaders go, and they want some government secrets."
"Which secrets?"
"Real secret-secrets. Black project stuff, I guess. Something called Starbright, and another called Quantum Leap. I've never heard of them, but the upper mucky-mucks sure are tightlipped about 'em. I don't see how they expect us to negotiate with something we know nothin' about." He flipped the paper back in a file and walked off, shaking his head and mumbling about keeping secrets from the FBI.
Sam felt the blood drain from his face. He hardly heard Chuck finish his thought before he moved away. How did they know about the Project? Was Al the target all along? Or Weitzman?
Is that why he was here?
Somewhat dazed, Sam returned to Beth and thanked her for her help. Since the airport bar host had given her a ride to the Command Post, she had no way to leave so Sam told her that she could stay at his station. He left instructions with Scanlon to take over, and to keep and eye on Beth.
It was all he could do to keep from running to the staging area for the entry teams. The thought that he might get killed right along with Al didn't even cross his mind.