Pulling The Dragon's Tail (32 page)

Now Nate remembered Campbell’s other warning;
turning a little hurt into a great harm, that’s what narcissists
do.

Chad casually approached the window overlooking
the complex. Suddenly he calmed down again. “I could take you
there,” he said, quietly checking his watch.

“Pardon me?”

“Oh! I was just thinking. This thing your
friends or whoever told you about. You know, rumors often have a
kernel of truth, but then take on a life of their own.” He chewed
thoughtfully on his lip, then continued.

“Now I don’t care what others think about me,
Skip. But I do care what my friends think. Tell you what, I’ll
level with you. Some people actually do have some problems with
disconnecting from the Stadium Experience. But we’ve worked to
establish the most helpful treatment for them. And they
fully
recover. Couldn’t have a dissatisfied customer now,
could we?”

Chad smiled broadly. “In fact, yes! I could take
you there to see the treatment facility. Would that clear up any or
all of these rumors?”

“Well that’s very gracious of you, but not
really necessary.”
If Campbell wasn’t so stubborn, Chad would be
offering this to her. The hospital patients can’t be as bad as
Campbell portrayed them.

“But I insist, my old friend!” His smile
threatened to swallow his face.

Nate hesitated, resisting the strong words of
this very persuasive person
. Besides, I guess maybe I owe Chad a
favor. It might avoid another tirade.
“Okay,” he finally
assented.

Chad escorted Nate to the elevator.

“Great! It’s too bad,” lamented Chad, “that your
friends aren’t here right now. If they did have any concerns, this
would be the time.”

They had arrived at the elevator, and stepped
on.

“Oh, we’re going up?” exclaimed Nate.

“Yes. The easiest way to the treatment facility
is to fly there. We’ll use the small ‘copter. The, ah-treatment
facility is on the other side of the mountain in a small town.”

“I’ll need to take Dugan along.”

“You and that CCR! You’re practically married to
each other! Do you ever go anywhere without him?”

“Not many places. But I really do need to get
him.”

“Hey, um, let’s see. No problem.” Chad nervously
drummed his fingers against the elevator wall, thinking. “I’ll tell
you what.” He wrinkled his nose, carefully thinking of what to say
next. “When we get to the flight deck, I’ll go start the ‘copter.
She runs better warmed up. You can, ah, go back down and get your
dog. Sound okay?

“Sure.”

The elevator cruised to a halt. The doors
opened. In the fading light of the late evening, two strong hands
grabbed Nate. Quickly he was tied up and blindfolded. Before he
knew what was happening he was stuffed into the helicopter, mouth
gagged. He pressed on the ropes imprisoning his hands and peered
out on the underside of the blindfold.

The ‘copter door rattled as a powerful arm
pounded on it. Herschel Hatton aka Browning Watts smashed his face
up against the plastic window of the ‘copter door, mouth wide open,
taunting.

The door slid open. Herschel’s rough hands tore
the mouthpiece and blindfold off.

“No cave to escape in this time, Methuselah! And
no CCR either to save you. I don’t know how you arranged it,”
gleefully turning towards Chad, “but I was sweating a bit how to
deal with that damned dog computer.”

Nate’s eye monitor read 7:08 p.m. Another seven
minutes before Dugan would wake up. Hopefully, the CCR would
immediately download his coordinates, and then call the others. So
many ifs and maybes. Again, he strained at the ropes until they
burned into his skin.

Chad was ecstatic. “Hey! I wasn’t expecting you
until tomorrow morning, but this has worked out great! It saved me
a hassle too.” He looked on the computer handheld that Herschel had
given to him. “When did you say the money’ll be wired?”

“Hold on a minute, will ya? Killing Skip’s
proved difficult. Keagan, the bumbling fool at the Ellis Clinic
missed him. I missed him once before. Just makin’ sure I’ve got it
right this time.”

Nate’s heart was racing. But he found the
courage to speak. “Jesus said to love everyone, even those you
consider your enemies.”

“And you’re going to pay for that putrid
pacifist dribble with your life. He also said that he brings peace
and not a sword. Chased you all around the Earth, my wily friend.
Let’s see. You’ll be number four.”

“Browning, Herschel, why? Why are you doing
this?”

“He-he-he. I thought about telling you. None of
the others know because there was no time. You’ve seen me and had a
chance to look me over. If you haven’t guessed it by now, you’ll go
to the grave not knowing.”

“What kind of drivel is that?” protested
Nate.

“Careful,” warned Herschel, his fist pounding
against the door. “I could kill you now and bury you in the
mountains later, but I prefer to have you think about your sins as
you slowly contemplate your death.” He placed the blindfold back
over Nate’s eyes and shoved the gagging piece of cloth over Nate’s
mouth.

He turned around and faced a fuming Chad.

“Fifty-thousand euros was our business
arrangement! Where is it?”

Herschel approached Chad. While only a bit
taller than Chad, Herschel outweighed him two to one.

“You haven’t transferred me any funds! Show me
the proof or the deal’s off!” Chad said angrily.

Herschel laughed. “You’re a pathetic idiot.” He
grabbed the small computer out of Chad’s hands and tossed it in the
‘copter. Chad stared in shock. “I’m calling security!”

Herschel quickly kneed him in the groin. When
Chad bowled over in pain, he hit the smaller man over the head.
Chad fell over on the ground, motionless. “Two for the price of
one. You’re even a bigger fool than Skip.”

Herschel reached into Chad’s pockets, extracting
some small data cards. Slinging him over his back like a sack of
potatoes, he then placed Chad into the pilot seat directly ahead of
Nate.

Nate peeked underneath the blindfold, watching
Herschel insert the data card into a slot in front of Chad. Blood
trickled down the back of Chad’s head. Then Herschel punched the
number three into the computer’s drive system.

Herschel listened for a pulse on Chad and then
tied him up. He brushed by Nate several times in the tight
compartment while working on Chad’s arms and legs. Through the thin
slot of light, Nate noted something strange. The number 90 was
tattooed on his left shoulder, while the right shoulder carried the
number 10.

Herschel leaped out of the craft, cracking his
head on the door jam. He swore and rubbed his head. He rushed
around looking for something. “Where was it?” he muttered.

The smooth dome ceiling, about five meters
above, stared back at Herschel. The first stars were twinkling in
the summer sky. He heard the distant echo of a hymn waft up from
below. “They know nothing of what it takes to bring in God’s
Kingdom,” he hissed defiantly. “Thank you, God, for allowing me the
opportunity to eliminate the enemy”. Then he prayed for strength to
find the button that would open the ceiling dome.

A moment later, his prayer was answered. It was
hidden around the corner from the liftoff pad. He started the
engine of the ‘copter, and maneuvered it out of the garage unit. A
few garbage cans were knocked over. “Damn, I’m glad I’m not going
to be flying this thing!” he muttered.

The ceiling was open. With the ‘copter directly
underneath it, he hit the lift off button. He leaped out of the
craft and shut the door. The whir of the engines emitted a low
steady drone, enough to drown out the crickets and frogs. The
copter rose up and out of the dome.

With a smugness that only comes with repeated
killing, he thought,
A nice, neat tidy murder disguised as a
crash. It was almost too easy. Chad’s ego blinded him. Nate’s
foolish religion blinded him
.

Herschel found the rope with the grappling hook
and threw it up until it grabbed onto the corner of the open dome.
Slinging a pack onto his back, he was set to make his escape.

While his powerful forearms propelling him
upward and out of the dome, he gazed heavenward. The preset program
was now fully engaged on the ‘copter. One hundred meters above him,
it had reached its preset altitude. He would be running through the
hills by the time it crashed.
Two for the price of one
, he
thought again. And with even more eagerness he contemplated the day
when he would kill the last Alpha Group member and complete his
mission on the Earth.

* * * * * *

The moment Dugan’s battery was fully charged,
the CCR knew something was wrong. His radar indicated that Skip’s
personal signal showed he was outside of the dome Dugan’s priority
call reached Thatcher and Campbell

“What do you mean he’s gone?” questioned
Campbell. She and Thatcher had eaten a meal in a local Heaven on
Earth restaurant and were walking back when Dugan called.

“I am presently downloading his coordinates,”
responded Dugan. “His last known location was in the penthouse with
Chad Delavan.”

Thatcher ran to the elevators and jabbed the
button to go up. When Campbell reached him, the elevator doors
opened up and they jumped on.

Dugan had already gone to the private dining
room where Nate had eaten with Chad. A moment later, Thatcher and
Campbell joined the CCR.

“Anything?” panted Thatcher.

“Yes,” replied Dugan, “he is flying above the
dome, but Skip is not responding to my calls.”

Campbell immediately relaxed. “I’m sure he’s
just taking a moonlight ride with his dear friend, Mr. Delavan, the
world’s greatest Christian.”

“That is against every rule Skip has ever taught
me. We are always either in close physical proximity or in constant
verbal contact.”

“Didn’t you accompany him to the dinner?”
inquired Thatcher.

“No, Skip and I agreed that I would have my
monthly battery recharge done.”

A door opened behind them. Nguyen rushed in.

“Hi, Nguyen,” said Thatcher. “How are—”

The Vietnamese man had a wild look in his eyes.
He rushed over to Thatcher, grabbed him, and spoke what at first
seemed to be gibberish.

“Slow down, Nguyen!” Thatcher grabbed his
shoulder and shook him. “Slow down! What’s the matter?”

Nguyen took a big breath. He closed his eyes
tightly as pain etched his face. He began again to speak.

“Not Vietnamese, Nguyen! English please!”
insisted Thatcher.

“I thought you were fluent,” asked Campbell.

“It was passable to get around in Vietnam. And
it’s been a few years. But it does sound like he’s repeating
something over and over. Nguyen, is it your wife? Did something
happen to your wife?”

Nguyen suddenly opened his eyes. He managed
“No!” and then launched into the same repetitious foreign
tongue.

“Slow down! If you want me to get it, slow
down!” yelled Thatcher.

Nguyen forced out, “Roof. Airplane.
Kidnapping.”

“What are you saying, Nguyen?”

Campbell got a sinking feeling in the pit of her
gut.

Dugan summarized what Nguyen was trying to say,
synthesizing data he had just received. “Skip has sent me a Morse
coded message. He is unable to talk and is riding in the helicopter
with Chad. Skip believes that Herschel has set the helicopter to
crash.”

Campbell gazed over at the feverish Vietnamese
man. “Is this true?”

“Yes!” yelled Nguyen. Then he fainted.

* * * * * *

With great effort Nate rolled up the blindfold
by rubbing it on the seat in front of him. Only one eye was free,
but sight meant some freedom. At first he yelled at Chad to wake
up, but the effort caused him to choke and cough. He nearly gagged
as the restraint seemed to tighten around his mouth.

Calm down
, he told himself
. Get your
bearings before panicking
. He looked around. The far western
edge of the sky held the last vestiges of daylight. Ringing the
perimeter of the small three-seat craft-two seats in front, one in
the rear-were a row of nighttime security lights. The small wings
outside the helicopter that concealed the series of small rotors
also contained night running lights.

Nate looked down below the craft. The large
statue of Jesus that Chad had described fell away below as they
passed over it
. Boy, that thing sticks way up into the sky
,
he noted.

Chad groaned. “Oh, my aching head.” It was
soaked in blood.

Nate moaned as best he could in the garbled
speech pattern.

As Chad continued to stir, he took note of his
surroundings, and said, “Nate! Hey, old buddy. I can see we’re in
quite a predicament. But we’ll survive.”

At that moment, Nate wished for the powerful
hands that had knocked Chad unconscious. But right now he needed
Chad’s cooperation just as much as he despised every word that came
out of his mouth.

“Let’s see. I’m tied up and assume you are too.
You blindfolded?”

“No!”

“Good. I’m not either. Okay, I’m looking around.
Shit! I don’t like what I see. Do you know or did you see Herschel
put a preset program in?”

“Yes,” said Nate hoarsely.

“Yes, what?” rasped Chad. “Wait! One yes or no
question at a time. First, did you see him put a preset flight
course in?”

“Yesh.”

“Did he program a number into it?”

“Yesh. Fwee.”

“Three?”

“Yesh.”

Chad then turned his attention to the ropes.
“Another idea, old buddy. I’ll try to hit the auto seat adjuster.
If I can move my seat both up and back, can you reach the ropes
tying my hands with your mouth?”

“I’ll try,” he spit out.

A moment later the seat was as high as it could
go and tilted forward. This pushed Chad’s hands, tied behind his
seat, a good deal closer to Nate.