The Demon Drivers BOOK IV - Ch. 12: No Fuss, No Muss
The Demon Drivers BOOK IV
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General Ramsey watched Parker approach the Battle-suit, look up at it, and put a hand on it.
What was he doing? What was he thinking?
The General exhaled slowly. He glanced at the phone again. If Parker was in fact planning an escape, now would be the time to alert security. They would need time to assemble near the Main Hangar. It would take nearly a minute for the surface teams to come in from the desert.
But if he waited too long and Parker powered up his Battle-suit, it wouldn’t be like last time. When Go-Boy Ultra was stolen, they were unprepared. That had been remedied, with anti-tank and anti-aircraft missile batteries stationed at key points throughout Candyland.
If another Battle-suit was stolen, and the order was given, the security forces would blast it out of the air.
There would be only shattered and smoldering bits remaining of the Battle-suit.
As for Parker. . . .
The General reminded himself that he had taken an oath to defend the nation, and that oath included shouldering the responsibility of having to give such difficult orders.
Parker climbed the steps of the service platform to the first landing and knelt next to the cockpit.
Was he actually going to do it? Was he actually going to climb inside the suit? General Ramsey marveled and recoiled simultaneously: moments ago he’d been pining for the cool comfort of his bed; now, he was contemplating authorizing a violent act against a child. Would he do it, if he had to? Could he do it?
The videophone rang. Startled, General Ramsey jumped and snatched the handset from its cradle before it could ring again.
“What?”
On screen, a man in fatigues and wearing a headset sprang into view.
“General, this is Bud Travis at the operations desk. We have a proximity alert in the Main Hangar. It looks like one of your protégés is about to go for a joyride. SWAT is on its way and I’ve scrambled several mobile missile batteries. If he gets through the outer doors, outside surface batteries are locked and loaded. We won’t lose another one, sir.”
General Ramsey’s mind raced. He watched Parker on one screen while he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing and seeing on the videophone.
Bud had been the driver of the lead security vehicle featured in the video of Go-Boy Ultra’s escape. He had been the Duty Chief the night Go-Boy Ultra unleashed its full firepower upon the security team with both chain guns. He’d also been the fall guy, busted for failing to contain the security breach. Here he was driving a desk on graveyard shift instead of driving his state-of-the-art all-terrain vehicle through the desert night where he loved to be. And now he was making a very important phone call.
“Sir, SWAT have reached the Main Hangar. Snipers are acquiring firing positions. Shall I give the order to neutralize the target?”
General Ramsey stared at Parker’s monitor.
What was Parker going to do?
What was he himself going to do if Parker made a break for the outer doors?
“Sir, you know as well as I do how upset the President got when he found out Go-Boy Ultra escaped. If this kid gets away too, the President will have me shoveling caribou crap at an abandoned secret base near the Arctic Circle.”
“What is your point, Bud?”
“He’ll have you there helping me. General.”
Unfortunately, Bud’s appraisal of the situation and his expectation of the President’s wrath sounded all too accurate.
“General, the time is now,” said Bud. “He’s unarmed. One shot. No fuss, no muss. If he gets inside that thing and gets her fired up, we’re going to have a fight on our hands. And if he’s even half as good as everyone says he is, it’s bound to get ugly.”
“You’re talking about neutralizing a child.”
“No, sir. I’m talking about taking the action necessary to keep this installation from becoming the laughing-stock of the United States military. Not to mention compromising our security clearance. Again. You above all people know it’s all about funding. Uncle Sam has deep pockets but these days there’s more pocket lint than anything. He’s not about to keep the lights on for us if we let another non-existent secret project fly off into the wild blue yonder. Besides, this could be my chance to get my stripes back.”
“You’re right, Bud. Splattering a thirteen-year-old boy’s brains all over the hanger is a much better option, one which I’m sure the President and the Joint Chiefs would prefer over a second security breach and one for which I’m sure you would receive a commendation.” General Ramsey cursed under his breath.
“General—”
“Give me a minute!”
General Ramsey watched Parker. Parker reached out to open the cockpit.
The General held his breath.
Parker’s hand hovered over the latch.
Bud was silent on the other end of the phone. General Ramsey could tell they were watching the same security camera feed.
“Sniper One reports target lock, General,” Bud said softly.
General Ramsey panned the camera around the hangar. In the dim light he could just make out the barrel of a rifle protruding through a nearby door, aimed at Parker’s back. He imagined looking through the scope mounted atop the high-power rifle, seeing Parker up close. He panned back to Parker. A tiny dot of laser light shone on the back of Parker’s head, just behind his left ear. The sniper holding the rifle would squeeze the trigger without hesitation once ordered to do so.
“Sniper reports target is clean, General,” said Bud.
“A clear shot?”
“Affirmative.”
“Tell him to stand by.”
“Roger, General,” said Bud. From further away, “Hotshot One, hold your fire, please.”
General Ramsey studied Parker. What was he going to do? What am I going to do? No matter what happened now, there would be witnesses. No matter what the General did, if he gave the order to shoot, or if he left Parker alone, there were now a lot of people watching.
Parker knelt on the platform next to the Battle-suit.
General Ramsey watched. And waited.
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