Chapter 25

The next day, Number 1 trudged along the sidewalk to Sector V's tree house. He didn't feel like he was being unreasonable in his ambitions, he felt like if he didn't push it, the rest might give in. Number 1 noticed some kids playing in a yard at a house that was down the street.

He felt a lump in his throat as he watched the little kids in their play clothes running up and down the yard. He could see the joy in their eyes and he could hear the innocence in their laugh. It was these precious lambs who would suffer in the coming firestorm. The horror of a nuclear strike would alter the world and the war would begin and forever strip away any hopes and dreams that liberty offered these children. There were dark forces that would enslave these children who had barely lived long enough to breathe the fresh air of freedom. These children had all the time in the world to experience, experiment, question, learn, live, create and inspire but it was a time that would be cut short by those who wished to devoid them in the bonds of servitude in trade for "paradise". They wouldn't be able to fight for their freedom; they wouldn't be able to react fast enough. The wolf was almost upon them to snatch away an independence that they had yet to experience.

Nigel felt a smile warm his face as he realized that while they might be too young to fight now, but there would come a day where they would. They would soon be eligible to join the grassroots ranks that he belonged to. These kids who played at the house next door began to burn an image in the heart of Nigel that refreshed him as to why it was so important to awaken the world to the potential of liberty: it would inspire a generation to test their limits and struggle against the darkness. In the meantime, the wolf would inevitably descend upon them. They, like little lambs, were too innocent and too timid to be able to fight.

They would need a sheepdog; a friend of the sheep, but not like the sheep. They needed a sheepdog that could make the tough decisions and the weighty sacrifices on behalf of the sheep, no matter the cost or the odds.

Number 1 felt a smile warm his face as he silently committed to do what it took to find a person like that among his ranks. He knew in his heart that if Sector V could pave the way, someone like that would arise, if they hadn't already.

He continued towards the tree house, his stomach filled with butterflies at the possibility that there might be a message waiting for him from Number 362 that more evidence had been found. He entered his passcode into the secret mailbox keypad and gained access to the tree house. He walked in to find the holographic projector had been modified to accept a video game console which broadcasted the contents of the game along the width of the wall behind the podium. Number 2 and Number 4 were fully engrossed in some sort of war game in front of the console. They were jumping at times and yelling at times, each trying to score higher than the other.

"You know," Number 4 yelled in his thick Australian accent, "If this was the REAL army, I would be kicking your butt! You're only winning because you're good at video games, you'd never make it in the REAL army!"

Number 2 was shaking his head, and calmly beating Number 4 at the game, "Oh come on! I had military recruiters calling my house all the time in high school! They are always looking for the best and brightest!"

Number 1 watched with amusement, it wasn't hard to believe that the military wanted Number 2. Number 2, humbly and quietly, was constantly changing the world with the inventions that he was building; inventions he built for fun. Number 1 enjoyed spending time with him in his wing of the tree house because he was always tinkering with something, testing something or accidently blowing something up. Yet, even though Number 2 could easily make himself the richest man in the country, he chose to keep his inventions within the KCD organization and for their use only. He chose to allow his inventions to be used to fight tyranny because at the end of the day, it was that freedom of creativity that allowed him to do what he loved and to have it, he must be willing to defend it.

"Oh really," Number 4 shot back, "If it's true that the military is searching for the best and the brightest, how come I've never gotten a phone call?"

Number 2 did a double take so fast that he lost complete control over his video game character allowing for Number 4 to take the win.

"HA!" Number 4 yelled, jumping up and slamming the controller on the ground, "Who's the best now!"

Number 2 shook his head and quickly skipped the video game ahead to the next round.

Number 1 also noticed that Number 5 was sprawled sideways in a recliner, reading a textbook. She had her red ball cap in her lap and Number 3 had pulled out Number 5's ponytail and was brushing her hair, singing, and struggling to keep her green shirt sleeves from falling past the brush in her hand.

"Any communications from HQ?" Number 1 asked wistfully.

"No," Number 5 said flatly, not even looking up from her book. It was obvious that she was deep in the book and desperately trying to ignore all the boisterous interruptions.

Number 1 sighed loudly and started to head towards his wing. Number 5 heard the sigh and rolled her eyes, closing her book.

"What's the story anyway Number 1?" she asked, genuinely concerned for her teammate, "What is the next plan?"

"We don't have one yet," Number 1 said, turning to face her, "There still is no evidence to indicate where the nuclear material is. I'm beginning to think that the trail has gone cold."

There was another shout from the boys around the console.

"Well," she said, "I'm sure something will crop up, it always does."

She started to thumb through her book again as Number 1 turned back towards his wing of the tree house.

"What ever became of the teeth marks?" she called after him.

Number 1 stopped dead in his tracks and felt the butterflies return. He turned slowly to face her.

"The what?" he asked.

She looked up nonchalantly from her book, her eyes barely looking over the edge of the pages, "The teeth marks! You know, the ones on the boat!"

Number 1 approached her with such swiftness that she dropped the book in her lap, startled.

"No," he said carefully, "No, I don't know. What teeth marks are you talking about?"

Number 5 looked at him with an unsure look, "You never saw those giant holes in the side of the cargo boat?"

She stopped herself suddenly.

"Oh wait," she said quietly, her eyes beginning to widen, "You didn't walk around the ship, did you? You never saw that side of the boat!"

She jumped out of chair, scaring Number 3.

"You didn't see those? They were among some of the pictures I took!" Number 5 said excitedly, "Does Number 5 have to do everything around here?"

Number 1 shook his head in shock, "I never saw them. I bet that Number 362 hasn't either!"

Number 5 shook her head, "You probably should brighten some of those pictures to see them clearly, but I figured you would bring it up!"

Number 1 turned and started running towards the garage bay where the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. was kept.

"Number 2, is the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. ready to go?" he yelled as he ran down the hall, Number 5 was close behind.

Number 2 turned to watch them run past and then looked at Number 4 and Number 3 who was giving him the same confused stare that he had on his face.

They all jumped up at the same time, dropping their controllers and brushes, and chased their leader towards the S.C.A.M.P.E.R.

Each operative was crowded around the back of the chair, staring at the computer screen while Number 74.239 adjusted the video settings on the screen. Sector V and Numbers 274, 65.3, 362, and 86 were all quietly watching behind, their faces glowing blue in the dim lit as Number 74.239 sat at the control trying to find the right picture and adjust the screen controls at the same time.

The air was still and the tension was thick as the operative anxiously awaited the possibility of seeing the elusive last piece of the puzzle that could be their chance to get back into the game.

"That one is no good because you can't get a proper angle of the ship's bow." Number 362 said quietly. Number 74.239 began to flip through some more of the pictures on the laptop screen. Number 65.3 had completed the archiving and had the pictures organized in a manner that would help speed up the process.

"That one," Number 5 perked up, "Try that one!"

Number 74.239 stopped browsing through the pictures and enlarged the photo Number 5 had pointed out. It was a picture of the entire side of the ship, looking from the front all the way to the back. It looked like it had been taken from a diagonal that wouldn't allow for a straight on look at the hull of the ship.

"Now brighten this picture up super high!" Number 5 said anxiously, her hands clutching the back of Number 74.239's chair. Number 74.239 clenched his braced teeth as he precariously worked through the layers of brightness to find a level that would reveal what Number 5 was trying to show them.

Number 1 stared at the screen through his dark sunglasses. He was standing directly behind Number 5 who was leaning over the chair to try and help Number 74.239 find what she was looking for. He was nervous about what they might find; could it be possible that they would find something that would help lead them to the nuclear material? Would they find it in time? Had Mr. Boss already disposed of it, or sent it to the places that it would need to go? What if the missiles ready to launch?

"See the tooth marks?" Number 5 asked, turning her head slightly to Number 1. Number 1 leaned forward and pushed his shades to rest on the top of his bald head. He could see the angle of the picture, the large front of the ship and all of the cargo that it had stashed on board. He could clearly see that there were two holes in the side of this ship. They were, surprisingly, not very big, but they were big enough that they could have only been caused by something quite large.

"Everyone knows that Number 5 is the brains of this organization, but I still can't believe you didn't see that before!" Number 5 joked quietly as Number 1 leaned over Number 74.239's other shoulder to get a closer look at the picture. The rest of the operatives watched with curiosity as Number 1 and Number 5 bantered back and forth comfortably on what the teeth marks were and what could have caused them.

"It doesn't look like any sort of explosion because there is no other point of damage." Number 1 said quietly.

"Look at how the metal is bent around them, it looks like an explosion. If something had penetrated the hull, the metal wouldn't be cut like that, it would be more mangled. The metal is only bent from a certain direction," Number 5 responded.

Number 1 shook his head, "Look at the way the rivets are distorted and forced in a radius around the hole, it looks like stress marks to me."

"Yeah," Number 5 muttered quietly and thoughtfully, "You're right! It looks like there are scrape marks too. I'm sure that the hole on the back of the ship's side looks the same way."

Number 1 shook his head thoughtfully again.

Every operative held their peace, not knowing what to say or contribute. Number 1 leaned back, standing straight up. He pushed past the other operatives and began to walk around the room, hands folded behind his back.

Number 5 stood up and stared past the operatives to Number 1, "Do you think that they were attacked? Maybe there was a theft?"

Number 1 didn't say anything.

"They could have been," Number 362 perked up, "but there would have almost certainly been more damage to the ship, catastrophic even, if they were attacked."

Number 5 turned to face her, "Yeah, that's true. Still, it had to be some kind of force to puncture the hull of that cargo ship and not cause any more damage than that."

"No one reported an attack," Number 1 said at last, "and the dock director acted like nothing about this ship was unusual. If there was any type of theft, the ENTIRE crew of the cargo ship would have to certainly been in on it."

"… or they would have to have been replaced." Number 5 said quietly.

Number 1 shot his eyes over to her, "Replaced by the attackers perhaps?"

Number 5 looked back at him with a horrified look, "Could be, you think?"

Number 1 began to pace again around the room, "Let's suppose, for a moment, that it is. Let's suppose that this cargo ship was attacked and its crew was replaced by the attackers. That would take a significant amount of coordination and planning but we know that it's possible with Mr. Boss and his vast network. How did they accomplish this without totally destroying the ship? How were they successful without the authorities getting involved, an full-fledged attack would certainly attract attention?"

The door to the headquarters opened up and Number 60 came walking in carrying a long object rolled up in an animal hide. Every operative was so engrossed in the drama that was unfolding before them that they didn't notice Patton walking into the room. Patton walked over to the table next to the group of operatives and laid the long object on the table.

"Every time I pop in for a visit you guys are always on the computer," Patton said softly and teasingly, "What has the nerd got for us today?"
No one paid attention to him.

"Hey, Number 2," he said nonchalantly, "I brought that rifle you built for me back. It works like a dream but I've been pretty harsh on it lately. Do you think you could tune up the firing pin on for me?"
Number 2 broke the tension by turning his head only slightly and nodding hastily, eager to hear what Number 1 might say next.

Patton just shook his head and sat his pack on the floor, shuffling through its pockets until he produced an apple. He casually walked over to the computer and started biting into the apple as Number 5 and Number 1 began to talk through various scenarios a few feet away. He looked at the computer screen over the top of the apple, his other hand resting in the top of his cargo pants' hip pocket.

"Hmmm," he said with a mouthful of fruit, "When did you guys start becoming interested in the Chupacabra?"

Number 1 stopped talking instantly. The rest of the operatives turned to look at him and each was giving him a curious and seemingly accusatory look.

"What?" he said defensively, "I'm serious!"

Number 74.239 had a smug look on his face as he started to chuckle, "You honestly expect us to believe that you are referring to a Latino myth of a blood sucking monstrosity."

Number 60 reached up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "No, I'll defer all reports on blood sucking monstrosities to your expertise."

He smiled at a scowling Number 74.239 as he sat down on the top of the table next to the computer, causing the mouse to slide off the table. "I'm referring to a new piece of technology that is changing the face of the open seas," he said.

Number 86 gave him the same skeptical look that she was most infamous for.

"No, I'm serious," Number 60 said, shooting her a look back, "I may spend most of my time away from civilization but that doesn't mean I'm disconnected!"

"What are you referring to, Number 60?" Number 1 asked.

"Listen," Number 60 said with smile, "First off, I spend a lot of time with Sector J."

"Sector J, you mean our base in Jamaica?" Number 274 interrupted.

"Yeah," Number 60 nodded, "It's not always easy to teach realistic evasive maneuvers in a land that is as flat as the eye can see and all the same shade of white. A few months ago I started partnering with their Sector Leader on a cooperative training effort. He would let me bring operatives down there for a week of jungle survival training and I would bring his Sector all sorts of good stuff that they can't get down there, I think the last thing I gave him was my really nice machete."

"Sector Leader of Sector J," Number 274 said thoughtfully, "I think that guy's name is Jamal?"
"Yeah", Number 60 said, getting a little frustrated at the interruptions, "and he told me that for the Number designation he was going by Number One Love; a tribute to Bob Marley maybe?"

"So what is the connection between Sector J and this cargo ship?" Number 362 asked softly.

Number 60 moved to a chair and propped his boots up on the table, accidently hitting Number 74.239's keyboard, "The connection is that the last time I was down there, Number One Love told me about some technology that has been making waves."

Number 2 giggled at the pun.

"No pun intended," Number 60 said with a smile, "Anyway, this new technology was supposed to be used by the local authorities to help with search and rescue on damaged ships in the Caribbean. The rescue ship would use this new type of tractor system that would bring damaged ships in tow. They called it the Chupacabra because of the signature holes that it would leave in the bow of the ships that it saved. The idea was that two rocket propelled grappling hooks would penetrate the bow of the sinking ship and reel it closer to the rescue ship, allowing for the rescue crew to board and help those who were stranded. They tried it and it worked for a while, even almost better than air rescue because the whole ship could be salvaged in most cases, the rescue ship would tow the damaged ship back to shore."

"That would have to be a really big rescue ship," Number 2 observed, "to be able to tow ships around successfully, the weight would be astronomical."

"Oh," Number 60 piped up, "According to Jamal, it was. It was the biggest non-combat ship that their yard had ever built. It was nuclear powered, extremely heavy, and yet incredibly fast. It had this tractor system on both sides of the ship, apparently capable of saving two very small fishing boats at a time in some cases."

"So how does it relate to this cargo ship?" Number 362 inquired.

"Well," Number 60 answered, resting his hands behind his head, "Number One Love told me that it didn't take long before it was hijacked by a group of pirates. It made sense that the pirates would want the tractor system; it would make looting ships a lot easier, so these pirates just take the whole ship. Number One Love said that the rumors were that a pirate that the local's call Stickybeard, is the one responsible. Imagine a massive ship that was nuclear powered and incredible fast, you outfit that thing with a weapons system and you probably could raid ships for years without ever being stopped."

He looked around at the stunned faces, "Seriously, what would anyone do about it in that part of the globe? Who would stop them?"
"Stickybeard," Number 5 spoke up, "What kind of a name is that?"
Patton shrugged, "Number One Love says that it's because of his rumored sweet tooth, especially for Caribbean Candy Rum, which he's constantly drunk with. With that kind of ship though, you could corner the drug market between our two continents and run all land running operations almost out of business."

"How would you dock," Number 4 asked, "You couldn't dock a ship like that without being caught?"

"You don't understand the size of this ship," Number 60 said with a smile and shake of his head, "Number One Love said that this ship is large enough to carry helicopters…and the rumor is that thanks to Stickybeard, now it does."

"What would Number One Love want in exchange for his help in catching Stickybeard?"
Number 1 asked with a gleam in his eye.

Number 60 turned to Number 2, "Oh, I think he mentioned something about some global communications equipment for his Sector's tree house. I think he mentioned he wanted to make the top tree house in that hemisphere, making Sector J the de facto head of all of our South American Sectors. He wants data to flow through his tree house like the mango juice on the beaches."

Number 2 smile reached from one side of his aviator cap to the other, "Oh, I've got this!"

"Then it's settled," Number 1 said, with an equally large smile, "Number 2, fire up the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. and get geared up Sector V, we're headed to Jamaica, we're officially back in the fight."