“SETI” Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence — Chapter 28 & 29
28
A magenta glow filled Sam’s room.
The showers had intensified as another band of strong thunderstorms moved in from the Pacific Ocean. Next to Sam’s bed, his laptop computer sat on top of his damp raincoat. Sam was sleeping peacefully.
Suddenly, he jerked up violently to a sitting position. His eyes were wild and wide.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!”
There was a blinking bolt of lightning. Immediately, thunder rocked the garage and Sam’s room.
The magenta glow disappeared.
Sam’s pulse raced. His breathing became shallow. His eyes were riveted on the rain pounding on his window.
With both hands, he wiped the sweat from his face. He scanned his room. Then he closed his eyes and flopped back down. His breathing gradually slowed, and sleep quickly returned. The noise and light faded and disappeared, but the magenta glow bathed his fading consciousness.
29
GEO Tech Industries had decided to build its world headquarters building in downtown San Diego. Los Angeles and San Francisco were ruled out because of the traffic and congestion that Chairman of the Board Warren Alsop couldn’t handle. But lately, Interstate 8 and Interstate 5 were becoming more like their cousins to the north in L.A. Commuters’ drive times created gridlock near the downtown loops and access roads. But at 3:45 in the morning during a driving rainstorm, only one moving vehicle could be seen.
A blue panel van bearing the proud logo of Signal Specialty of San Clemente slowed and parked in the red zone in front of the building. There was little to no chance of being ticketed under such adverse conditions in the early morning. Two men stepped out of the van, both dresses in white work suits with the company logo on the breast pockets. The two men were middle-aged and looked rugged, healthy, and strong.
The well-lighted foyer was wide as it was tall, a cavernous space with an electronic directory and an enormous reception desk/security station. The night security guard straightened in his chair as the two men approached. The guard did not hear them exchange quick words in Russian as they entered the lobby. They switched to English as they approached the reception desk.
“. . . and if the Chargers don’t bring back Fouts, they’re shit out of luck for the season,” Jim said.
“What the hell do you know, goofball?” Bob asked.
Jim, known in Moscow as Andrei Bonolov, and Bob, listed in the personnel files of the KGB as Joseph Teshkin, approached the guard.
“Yes, gentlemen. May I help you?”
Jim chuckled. “Yeah, you can tell me why in the hell I was called in on this job smack-dab in the middle of the night. We’re here to service one of your satellite dishes on top of the building.”
Bob pulled out a Satellite Specialist work order. The bogus document was professionally printed, with all the familiar boxes, lines, and warranty disclaimers in place. GEO Tech’s name and location were plainly printed in the customer box. The guard reached for the work order.
“We been told the big boys have got a meetin’ up in the conference room at around nine and need to raise a com link with some biggies in New York, and the link is down. We gotta tweak a few knobs and look at the hardware.
The guard read the document carefully. He seemed satisfied. He talked with the two men as he walked toward the bank of elevators. He fumbled his keys.
“This is typical. I wasn’t informed but I’ll get you men going. I sure don’t want to stop a workin’ man from workin’,” the guard said.
Jim and Bob laughed, tensely.
The guard inserted his master elevator key, and the service elevator doors opened. Jim and Bob stepped inside.
“Say, while you guys are up there, why don’t you see if you can stop this rain? Man, can you believe it? We’ve had one sou’wester after another.”
“I tell ya what, officer, since we’ll be up there, I’ll talk to the big man upstairs — I mean, way upstairs — and see if I can shut this shit off.”
The guard reached in and pushed the button marked “PH.”
“I’d appreciate it. When you get off, just go down the hallway to your right. There’s a door that leads up to the roof and the microwave room. I’ll buzz it open for you.”
Jim replied, as the door started to close, “Much obliged.”
Bob stopped the door and opened it again. Jim gave him an “if looks could kill” look.
“Say, we’ll be shutting the juice off for a while to check the power supply, so your security cameras may go off for a couple of moments,” Bob said with a broad smile.
“Thanks for warning me,” the guard said. “Otherwise, I would’ve had to track the problem down. Don’t get too wet, and be careful. It’s slippery up there on that platform. And watch out for that damn wind on the roof.”
Out of the guard’s view, Jim was furiously pushing the door-close button.
The door finally did close. Jim softly but fiercely started to curse Bob in Russian.
Bob replied, “In English comrade. And what the hell is the matter with you? You forgot about the damn camera. The idiot can see every move we make.”
Jim was quiet. Then he said, “Warn me first, comrade, before you jabber on about a key element of the plan.”
“Listen, Andrei — Jim — it’s late and cold, and I’m wet. I’m senior on this mission, so just do as you are told, and let’s get this fucking Mighty Mouse job done and get the fuck away from this stupid assignment.”
“ ‘Mickey,’ not ‘Mighty’.”
“What?” Bob was perturbed.
“ ‘Mickey Mouse job.’ “
Bob turned away and looked up at the floor-indication lights. They blinked off and on as the elevator went past 39 to the next stop, the penthouse. The door opened and Bob stepped out, but not before delivering a parting line to his KGB partner.
“Fuck Mickey Mouse.”
Jim muttered to himself, “I like Disneyland. There’s nothing wrong with Mickey, or Minnie, or Goofy.”
