N/A: I'm overwhelmed for your kind comments and amazed that you are still reading. Thank you! let's go for another round.
Chapter 10
-"One… two… two and a half… two three quarters…" – G took a deep breath – "Three!" – he said as he injected the antibiotic on his leg. He hated the needle
pinch as much as the burning sensation that lasted forever. He knew, however, that his life depended on it.
Far-sightedly Kensi had packed medicines to treat for two days five injured people in critical conditions so for now, his needs were covered. When the pain
subsided he tried to rest as much as much as his battered body allowed him, and eyes closed, he started to ruminate on a plan to move, because dying in that
cave wasn't an option.
Heading to Konya was the easiest solution, but he has never have been a guy of easiest solutions.
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- "Mr. Beale, bear with me, please." – Said Hetty resigned trying to being patient– "Explain again to me how the program you've created could help us to aid Mr.
Callen and which the margin of error of your calculations is."
Hetty was seated on the coach with Nell as Eric stood next to the portable screen. The open space was unusually quiet and not even the cheerful Christmas
decoration was able to mask the sadness on the ambience.
The horrible palm three, chosen by Callen and Sam some years ago as a Christmas tree, and now full of colored bulbs, was visible from everywhere. Sam had
remained the day before till the wee hours in the morning taking care of the twisted palm, that, once straighten, was looking proudly erect as a lighthouse that
shows the safe way back home.
Earlier that day, Hetty had sent Kensi and Deeks to the military hospital in San Diego to find out if the newly arrived Captain Washington was able to
proportionate some relevant information about Callen's whereabouts.
Sam was in Camp Pendleton holding a meeting with two instructors and fellow marines. He knew the marines had foreseen some movement of forces in Syria
and his intention was to take advantage of their mission and even to join them in the field in order to go to Turkey. He hoped also to recruit some voluntaries,
and probably the instructors could help him.
Hetty, managing privileged information, as always, anticipated the negative answer; but she knew that Sam needed to feel in control, to feel that he was doing
everything humanly possible to bring Callen back. She wouldn't be the one to deny his right to do it.
- "Mr. Beale, I'm all ears" – encouraged Hetty.
- "So based on the images of Callen's fall thanks to the algorithm… - Started to explain Eric.
- "What Eric is trying to say, Hetty, is that his program is able to calculate the possibilities of Callen's survival."- interrupted Nell.
- "Thank you Miss Jones." – sighed Hetty. – "So… what are you waiting for Mr. Beale? Go ahead!"
- "Well, first of all I've isolated the frames where we got the best sight of Callen, the software cleaned the images and my program concluded with a 98,5% of
probabilities, that Callen wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest."- said Eric lowering his voice.
- "I see"- Hetty replied pensively. – "And what else says this program of yours?"
- "The problem now is that we don't have a clear frame or the moment of shooting…"
- "…But we know the position of the three shooters on the moment Callen was shot" – completed Nell.
- "And…?"- urged Hetty.
- "And if this bad guy in here did the shot…" – said Eric showing the image on the monitor – "… we have a problem, because there's a 95,8% of possibilities that
he was using a Kalashnikov, which means a bullet of 7,62 x 39. And that's bad. The bullet could have two possible trajectories depending of the wind's speed,
that Nell was able to calculate thanks to…"
- "Mr. Beale, please, to the point!"- asked Hetty one more time.
- "Oh, ok, yes, the trajectories: the first one through the left ventricle, possibilities of death 99,9%, and the second one through the pulmonary artery with also
99,9% possibilities of death."- concluded Eric.
- "So let's hope it wasn't him" – Said Hetty.
- "If the bullet was shot from here… " – Continued Eric pointing the screen out again- "…the probabilities are more favorable, because the possible points of
entrance are higher. Worst case: broken collar bone, and not a clean fracture from that angle. 98,2% possibilities of death. Best case, flesh wound traversing
the deltoid, possibilities of death for the shot 3%."
- "Another possibility is a slightly lower shot and in that case the bullet could be located below the collar bone and above the heart."- Added Nell- "If the bullet
doesn't move the possibilities of death are 75%."
- "The problem is that we can only guess the arm the shooter was using, so it's not overly crazy to increase the percentage in 2,01%, based on the kind of
weapons the terrorist were using in this area for the last twenty years."- explained Eric professionally.
For one moment Hetty considered the two young people she was listening to. They were so focused on the task of describing trajectories, calculating
possibilities, estimating options and assessing damages, than they lost the whole picture. It was her Callen they were talking about! Her pig-headed, cheeky,
rascal, challenging, bold, with a heart of gold, boy. Lost in her thoughts, Hetty just was able to hear the verdict contained on the calculations the program made:
if the third shooter was the one 100% possibilities of death.
- "…and we just talked about the shot, but not the fall." – Continued Eric -"Considering the height, the terrain conditions, the…"
- "Mr. Beale!" – interrupted Hetty.
- "In the best case and making the average within the possibilities … 95% possibilities of death."
Hetty walked out to her desk grasping at that 5% of possibilities of survival.
- "Hey Nell" –whispered Eric, feeling confused –"Do you think Hetty thinks we didn't do our job?"
- "On the contrary Beale, I think that she thinks we did our job too well."