The Emerald Scepter Page 10

  She looked up and blinked through black-framed round glasses at Hawkins with the most beautiful orchid blue eyes he had ever seen. He nodded and gave her a half smile. She gazed at him with a neutral expression, and then returned to her computer. He thumbed through an old dog-eared copy of Guns and Ammo magazine. He was pondering the idea of walking away from his appointment when the young woman spoke.

  “He’s a snake, you know.”

  Hawkins looked up from his magazine. “Pardon me?”

  She jerked her head toward a closed door. “Dr. Mengele.”

  Hawkins wanted to ask the woman why she used the name of the Nazi concentration camp doctor, but a door opened and a stern-looking nurse said, “Dr. Trask will see you now, Lieutenant Hawkins.” The nurse handed the woman a clipboard. “The doctor would like you to fill out this paperwork before he sees you, Corporal Sutherland.”

  Sutherland smirked at Hawkins. “Have a nice day.”

  A minute later, Hawkins was sitting in front of a mahogany desk occupied by the psychiatrist. Dr. Trask was gaunt, almost cadaverous, in appearance, with a weak chin that was diminished even further by his long face. He picked up a folder and let it drop onto the desk top.

  “I’ve gone through your records,” he said. “Disturbing.”

  “You’ve done a psychiatric evaluation without talking to me?” Hawkins said.

  Dr. Trask stiffened at the unexpected retort. He was used to patients cowering at his pronunciations from on high.

  “I didn’t have to talk to you. It’s obvious from the statements of your superiors that you have paranoid delusions. You think someone is out to get you.”

  “That’s not the way I look at it. I just want the Navy to investigate the circumstances of a military operation I was involved in.”

  Trask leaned his elbows on the desk and folded his hands in front of him. He gazed at Hawkins with slate-colored eyes. “The ambush that injured you, and resulted in the deaths of three men under your command, is making you feel inadequate and less of a man.”

  Hawkins had the urge to rip the man’s face off with his bare hands, but he knew that the doctor was deliberately trying to prod him into making an unwise move that would support his diagnosis. He remembered the warning of Corporal Sutherland.

  He’s a snake, you know.

  Hawkins sat back in his chair and folded his hands in imitation of the doctor.

  “We can save a lot of time if you dispense with the psychobabble and get right to the point, Dr. Trask.”

  Trask’s eyes narrowed, giving his face a predatory look.

  “Very well, lieutenant. I’m sure you understand your situation. Your hostile attitude gives me no choice but to recommend a psychiatric discharge unless you stop your private vendetta against the Navy.”

  Hawkins understood the situation very well. Trask was a snake, but the real reptiles were the higher-ups blocking a probe.

  “Thank you very much for being honest with me,” Hawkins said. “I’ll certainly give your warning serious consideration.”

  He pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the door. As he walked through the lobby he saw Corporal Sutherland look up at him with questioning eyes.

  “You were right,” he said. “Good luck.”

  She folded her laptop. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got snake repellant.”

  Hawkins was tempted to go the nearest bar and numb his brain with booze, but he waited outside for Corporal Sutherland. She emerged after less than ten minutes.

  “That didn’t take long. How’d you make out?” he asked.

  “Medical discharge. At least it wasn’t a psychiatric one like yours.”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  “Dr. Mengele threatened me with the same thing, but held off after I used my repellant.”

  Hawkins grinned in spite of himself. “I could use some of that stuff myself. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  She cocked her head and looked at him, thinking, then said, “There’s a Starbucks a couple of blocks from here.”

  They found a table at the back of the coffee shop. Sutherland sipped at a caramel latte coffee and watched Hawkins’ face as he read the report on her computer. It had been prepared by a professional board investigating charges that Trask had a number of improper relationships with his female patients in private practice. The report recommended that his license to practice be revoked.

  Hawkins studied the report. “It doesn’t surprise me that he’s a sleaze. Where did you get this stuff?”

  “It’s easy when you know how,” she said with a smile. “Watch.”

  She tapped the computer keys and Hawkins saw his name on the screen. She scrolled down through several navy documents, going back to his SEAL training, and hospital records detailing his injuries.

  “Hell,” he said, not entirely pleased to see how easily details of his life could be accessed by a complete stranger. “You got all this from my last name?

  “And navy rank. Didn’t intend to pry, but I’m careful about who I go out to coffee with. You and I have a lot in common.”

  “I’d like to hear about it,” he said.

  She told him she was born in Wheeling, West Virginia. Her full name was Molly Sutherland Suggs. Her father had named her Molly after country singer Molly O’Day. Her mother liked film actor Donald Sutherland. Molly dropped her last name because she didn’t like the way it sounded. Too hissy.

  She joined the army at a young age to escape her family’s cycle of poverty, received computer training and excelled at it. The army became her new family. She made corporal and was sent to Iraq. She was ambushed in the barracks and sexually assaulted by her fellow soldiers, but the army hushed up the incident and, like Matt, she was sent to counseling and threatened with a psychiatric discharge when she refused to stay silent.

  “What happened to the guys who assaulted you?” he said.

  “Nothing.” She gave him an evil smile. “Officially, that is. I took care of it though.”

  “What do you mean? Took care of it.”

  “I got into their personnel files and inserted homosexual incidents and child pornography into their records. They’re toast for the rest of their lives. Jobs. Marriages. Military service. Down the drain. One of them committed suicide.”

  That had been years ago, but as he sat in his study, Hawkins still remembered the dead emotionless tone of her voice and the calmness in the purple-blue eyes. He decided that something had died inside the young woman when she was attacked and pushed out of the army.

  It was the only time she talked about her past. And it was the only time he had ever seen her in person. Sutherland still dropped him an email from time to time. She said nothing about what she was doing, or where she lived, and he didn’t inquire. He assumed she was living on a navy disability, with her computer her only companion—a lone computer genius with a mental problem.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, he assured himself.

  He took a deep breath, called up Sutherland’s address and typed:

  HI MOLLY.

  He had barely hit the Send key when the reply appeared.

  HI LIEUT. NICE 2 HEAR FROM U. WHAT’S UP?

  I NEED YOUR HELP.

  ?

  FORMING A MISSION TEAM. WOULD LIKE U TO JOIN IT.

  ?4U. NAVY?

  Hawkins had to think of an answer. KINDA. SORTA.

  ;S.

  ?! NOT UP ON TEXTING SHORTHAND. PLZ TALK ENGLISH.

  MEANS HMMM. WHY ME?

  U R BEST COMPUTER PERSON I KNOW. AND TRUST.

  104. MEANS THANKS. DETAILS, PLEASE. THIS IS A SECURE LINE.

  Hawkins typed a summary of the expedition, starting with the call to go to Newport. He included the part about his demands for an honorable discharge. At the end of the summary he wrote:

>   NEED SOMEONE TO DO INSTANT RESEARCH RE PRESTER JOHN. AND WATCH WORLDWIDE COMMUNICATIONS FOR ANYTHING THAT COULD ENDANGER MISSION. PROTECT US WITH A CYBER UMBRELLA.

  LOL. LOST TREASURE? EX-WIFE? COMPUTER HACKER W/ TUDE!!! YOU ARE CRAZY!

  BESIDE THE POINT. R U IN? There was an uncharacteristic pause before the answer appeared.

  “S”

  ENGLISH PLZ.

  SMILE. I’M IN.

  APPRECIATE IT, MOLLY.

  U R ONLY ONE I WOULD DO THIS FOR. I—

  He waited for her to complete the sentence, and when she didn’t respond he typed: THX. SET UP SECURE TELECONFERENCE FOR TOMORROW AT 2000 HOURS WITH ABBY AND HAYES. DETAILS TO FOLLOW THEN.

  A photo flashed on the screen of Sutherland in her army uniform. A second later she signed off and the picture disappeared. Hawkins felt a moment of exhilaration. His team was complete. He had the best people he knew in logistics, security and intelligence. Oddballs every one of them, but the best.

  Then reality hit home. Oh yeah, he thought. This merry crew is led by a man who is certifiably insane.

  He let out a groan that woke Quisset out of a sound sleep.

  “We’re doomed,” Hawkins said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The next day, Hawkins and Snowy wrapped Fido in padding to prepare the submersible for travel. Later that day, a truck arrived in Woods Hole courtesy of the same special number he had called to request a jet to Washington. They watched as Fido was removed from Hawkins’ workshop. As the truck drove off to Otis air base, Hawkins turned to his friend and said, “You’re probably wondering what that was all about.”

  “Some.”

  “Don’t blame you. I’m going to be gone for a while to work on a project. Leaving early tomorrow morning. Navy stuff, so I can’t tell you the details. Or how long. I wondered if you’d pick Quisset up tomorrow and take care of her while I’m away.”

  “Glad to, Matt.”

  Hawkins shook Snowy’s hand and then he and Quisset walked back into the house. He packed a bag full of clothes and another with dive gear. Then he climbed to his study and spread out some satellite photos he’d asked a geologist to prepare. Using a magnifying glass, he studied the lake and a lush-looking section of farmland that surrounded a village. He was surprised to see an airstrip.

  He spent the next few hours laying out an action plan that covered every eventuality he could think of. He took a quick dinner break and precisely at eight o’clock he called up the video conferencing link on his computer. A Cheshire cat flashed onto the screen, fading until only its enigmatic smile remained. The crescent of pointed teeth morphed into Molly’s Mona Lisa smile and her full face materialized.

  One never knew what to expect of Molly.

  “What’s with the cat?” he said.

  “Virtual kitty. No feeding. No litter box.”

  Hawkins knew that was as far as he was going to get with the enigmatic computer genius.

  “Are we all set up for the teleconference?”

  Sutherland nodded slightly. Her head shrunk on the screen and moved to one side to allow space for Hawkins’ face, then the screen split into quarters and Abby and Calvin appeared like a couple of CNN talking heads. Hayes hadn’t changed much. The wide mouth was stretched in a grin.

  “Hawk! You are looking good, man,” Hayes said in his soft-spoken New Orleans drawl. “You too, Abby.”

  “Thank you, Cal,” she said. “It’s nice to see you. Thanks for arranging this reunion, Matt.”

  She flashed Hawkins the smile that used to get his pulse racing.

  “My pleasure. I’d like to introduce you to my friend Molly Sutherland.”

  They both said hello, and Abby added, “How come we’ve never heard of you, Molly?”

  “Because that’s the way I prefer it,” Molly said. “I like to be in the background.”

  Abby cocked her head. “If that’s the case, how did you and Matt meet?”

  “Fate,” Sutherland said.

  Abby’s eyes narrowed. Matt saw a further question poised on his ex-wife’s lips. He knew first hand about Abby’s persistence and Sutherland’s manic defense of her privacy and broke up the exchange before it started.

  “I’ll start by reviewing my own work over the last twenty-four hours.”

  He described their objective and outlined his plans. Get in undetected. Use the submersible to speed up the search for underwater caves. Dive into the lake. Find the treasure. Escape.

  “Molly, could you give us an overview of what you’ve done?”

  Sutherland looked pleased to be the first called upon. Her mouth turned up slightly at the corners.

  “I’m putting together the comprehensive historic file on Prester John that you asked for and catalogued the data so it can be accessed forensically according to specific questions. I’ve also established a file on any mention of Prester John anywhere in the world in the last six months. I’ll be combing that file to see if I can find anything relating to the mission.”

  “That will be a big help, Molly.”

  “Now to mission protection,” she said. “I’ll mine the internet for any hint that the mission has been compromised. I’ve established a surveillance program to keep an eye on internet traffic. If anyone is talking about us in conjunction with Prester John it will trigger a red flag.”

  “That sounds like a miniature version of the NSA,” Abby said.

  “The program is patterned after the NSA forensic search logarithms. And it’s not miniature. It’s a full blown data mining operation that samples all possible sources.”

  The quick shake of Abby’s head signaled her skepticism. “That would take enormous capacity. You must have a room full of computers.”

  “I don’t need a room. I sneak into other peoples’ rooms and borrow their computer capacity.”

  Hawkins was enjoying Molly’s smack-down of his hard-charging ex-wife, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. “Thanks, Molly. That’s exactly what I had in mind. Abby?”

  Abby would have liked to have learned more about Sutherland, but she got right down to business.

  “My assignment was to get everyone and everything into Afghanistan without going through official channels. A charter air service my company uses will transport personnel and gear directly into Kabul. We board six o’clock tomorrow morning at Dulles. A civilian security contractor will do the in-country insertion and the extraction. Everything will be ready to go within the window of opportunity you specified.” She said to Hayes, “Cal, what sort of load can we expect?”

  Hayes looked as happy as a kid reciting his Christmas wish list. “I’ve ordered up a couple of sets of desert cammo dress uniforms,” he said. “We’ll be carrying CAR-15s,” he added, referring to the compact version of the M-16 with the folding stock and the shortened barrel. “For side arms, I know you like the Sig Sauer 9 mm, Matt.” He went down a list that included extra ammunition, a GPS, satellite phone, rations, first aid and survival items. “I’ve stuck in an M-203 for good luck, Matt.”

  The M-203 was an aluminum tube with a breech that could hurl an explosive round roughly the size of two golf balls several hundred yards.

  “I’m all for good luck,” Matt said. “But strictly speaking, this is not a military mission.”

  “Hell, Hawk, I know that. But what are you going to do if you run into some bad guys, throw a rabbit’s foot at them?”

  Calvin had a good point. “You can keep your little bean-shooter. You didn’t mention what we’re going to use to carry all that stuff.”

  “Saving the best for last. I’ll have a DPV with extra fixings waiting for us at the airport.”

  The Desert Patrol Vehicle was a dune buggy on hormones with a 200-horsepower Volkswagen engine that could kick it up to a speed of ninety miles per hour.

  “Sounds like you covered all the bases
, Cal. Anyone have comments?”

  Abby had followed the discussion closely. “One adjustment. I’d like you to order up a third line of gear. I wear a size six.”

  Hawkins shook his head. “I thought you’d only go as far as Kabul, Abby.”

  “I said I wanted to follow through on the logistical support.”

  “Damnit, Abby, why do you have to be so difficult? This isn’t exactly a stroll in the park we’re talking about.”

  Hawkins knew he’d said the wrong thing the second he said it. Abby’s eyes narrowed. She reminded him that she had trained in covert operations and survival techniques at Annapolis, and that she was an expert marksman and an experienced diver.

  “All true, Abby, but you forget that I’m in charge of this mission.”

  “And you forget who’s organizing it. Besides, I still outrank you.”

  It was an unkind cut, and one Hawkins had experienced before, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

  “We’ll have more time to talk about this on the flight to Afghanistan,” Hawkins said, although he could tell from the stubborn tilt of Abby’s chin that there would be no yielding on her part. “Cal, pack a third set of gear for the lady, just in case.”

  “See you in Washington in the morning,” Abby said, setting her lips in a tight smile.

  She disconnected from the teleconference. Hawkins told the other two he would send them a summary of his plans. Their pictures faded and Hawkins shut down the teleconference. He tented his fingers, thinking, then turned back to the photos on his desk and sketched out the action plan that had been bouncing around in his head. As he worked, he heard a distant rumbling. A thunderstorm was moving in.

  CHAPTER TWELVE