Although his Katyco subsidiary was bringing in hard cash in the mid-70s, Bill King was wise enough to realize that it couldn't last forever. As with any gold rush, a few people who get in at the beginning make the most money before the field is overrun by other prospectors. Designing video games also wasn't King's strong suit and so he gradually moved Alpha Control away from the software end of the business and into producing the hardware that made the machines work. As video game fever swept the country and the world, King turned his attention toward designing and building the joysticks and other controls needed by the full-sized arcade games, and later, for the home consoles that would be sold by the million. Bill and May King often mused over how much success ol' Manny the Minotaur had brought them.
The steady income allowed Alpha Control to focus on its primary mission of creating maneuvering systems for aircraft and even spacecraft. The 1970s saw an evolution away from the traditional method of steering aircraft with heavy hydraulic controls in favor of lighter, nimbler fly-by-wire computer systems. The only limiting factors to that advanced system were the primitive computers of the day, and, as always, the relative frailty of the human pilot. King was just the man to deliver the integrated hardware/software packages that made the systems work. Naturally, Alpha Control's biggest customer was the US military and its NATO partners. Bill King knew he was back in the death delivery business once again, but the Cold War was still in full-swing and national defense was paramount.
Alpha Control was making the Kings very wealthy, but Bill and May continued to live as average a lifestyle as the situation would permit. King kept a very low profile, preferring to be rich, but not famous, which brought on an entirely different set of problems. Within a few years, Bill Junior was joined by a younger sister and eventually, a baby brother. The Kings lived in a modest home not far from the growing Alpha Control complex. Bill would walk or bike to work every day, blending in with the hundreds of other AC employees entering or leaving the plant, although he was the only one on the payroll to be shadowed by plain-clothed private security guards. King enjoyed the morning ritual immensely, until the whole thing nearly came crashing down on him and his family.
May King knew she was marrying a workaholic but had no intentions of allowing him to be totally subsumed by Alpha Control. Both she and Bill were very fond of nature and enjoyed taking the kids on weekend camping trips in the nearby mountains. May had one iron-clad rule that her husband dared not disobey: No Work! No notebooks, no draft memos, no reports, no nothing. May and the kids received Bill's full attention for duration of the trip. King would only shrug his shoulders and explain to his fellow workaholics at the plant that if they had any questions about the policy they need only consult Mrs. King. There were no takers.
As their wealth grew, the couple decided it would be prudent to include security guards on their camping trips. Though the guards maintained a discrete distance from the family, May hated the loss of privacy, but appreciated the need for safety. One beautiful summer weekend taught the Kings that safety was a relatively fleeting commodity. Upon reaching one of their favorite secluded campsites in the mountains, the family disembarked from their Country Squire station wagon and were greeted by Brian Burns, a relatively new addition to the security team, and two other men that King did not recognize.
"Good morning!" greeted Burns cheerily, as the three men neared the car. "Looks like a beautiful weekend in store."
"Morning, Brian," said King, as he maneuvered himself between Burns and the family. Something didn't feel quite right. It was a feeling King had had since the previous night. Call it a Sixth Sense. "I'm afraid I haven't met your partners before," he said, eying the men suspiciously.
Burns' cheerful smile evaporated as he drew a small caliber handgun from his jacket pocket. "There's no need for introductions, Mr. King. We know who you are and there will be plenty of time to get acquainted while the arrangements for your ransom is made. No doubt such things will take a little time to orchestrate, even for your staff of crack professionals."
Gesturing toward May and the wide-eyed children who had gathered on the opposite side of the car, Burns spoke to her in a chillingly calm tone. "Mrs. King, we need you and the children to join us over here, please." Burns' associates both produced several short lengths of rope for the purpose of binding the terrified family.
"Stay where you are, May," said Bill King, in an equally calm voice and with a somewhat larger pistol in his right hand. "This will all be over in a moment."
A wide smile flashed across Brian Burns' face. "Well played, Mr. King, but I'm afraid it isn't going to be quite so simple. You see, I took the liberty of having the bullets in your favorite .44 replaced with dummies last evening. The weight is the same, but you'll find they lack much of a punch." Burns and his goons chuckled at the joke.
"Hmmm. I guess the joke's on me, then," said King, as he slowly lowered the handgun. "Oh, wait!," he said, as if suddenly remembering something important. "I didn't pack my .44 this morning. This is my Daddy's .45 from the War." With that, King fired off a round that barely missed Brian Burn's head, scattering bark and splinters as the heavy round slammed into a nearby pine tree.
"Drop it, Brian!" King shouted, pointing the gun at the other man's head. "I won't miss this time." Burns' mouth dropped open in surprise. His ears were still ringing from the shot, but he wasn't ready to give up without a fight.
"You're outnumbered, King!"
"Maybe. But I'll still take you down with me, Brian. That's good enough for me." King watched the two thugs behind Burns, while keeping an eye on the gun in Burns' hand. They were both pale and visibly frightened. Things weren't working out the way Brian had said they would. "Besides, it looks like your friends are having second thoughts about this project. I bet they'd run away if given the opportunity. Wouldn't you, boys?"
Though not the sharpest crayons in the box, the two thugs recognized an out when they saw one, and turned tail and fled into the woods. Suddenly, Brian Burns felt very alone, and very afraid.
"Bastards," he muttered, dropping the pistol in the dirt.
"Alright. Move over there and lie down, face-first and arms spread." King motioned to an open patch of ground between several trees. "May, darlin', come give me a hand for a second. You children stay right where you are for now."
May's fear had given way to anger as she came around the back of the station wagon. "You worthless piece of... I say finish him off now and be done with it!"
"Now, now, Darlin', we'll let the authorities take care of things. For the moment, please pick up some of those ropes and loop them up for me." King clumsily ran one loop around Burns' feet, at the ankles, and pulled it tight. He would need both hands to secure the man's wrists and he passed the heavy handgun to his wife, who took dead aim on the prostrate figure's head. "If he tries anything clever, Mrs. King, do whatever you feel is best."
"Give me an excuse," she hissed at Burns, "any excuse at all." But the fight had gone out of the would-be kidnapper and he meekly allowed King to tie his hands behind his back.
"I hereby place you under citizen's arrest," said King formally, for indeed it was the one formality that kept him from being charged with kidnapping himself.
King gently retrieved the .45 from his wife, not wanting any "accidents" to occur in the hand-off. He had seen May's temper over the years, but nothing like this state of rage before. The woman was livid.
"Are you up to taking a little drive, my love?"
"Of course I can drive, you fool! But what about you, and those other two?"
King smiled at the sharp reply. What a girl! "I'd like you to take the children and go down to the ranger's station. Send back the ranger and anyone else with a badge you can find. I'll hunker back behind these nice thick trees and keep an eye on Brian, here, and if his friends do decide to come back, which I strongly doubt, they'll have to come into my field of fire to get at me. I don't think either of them have the guts to try it. Brian will tell the authorities everything they need to know about those two. Kidnapping is a federal offense and I don't think Brian will take the fall alone."
While obviously pleased that he had saved his family from an unsavory fate, Bill King also felt the palpable loss of their freedom. Never again would he travel as openly or as freely as he had up until this point. His wife and children would never be exposed to such danger again. It was a huge loss.