“No one thanks a ranger for keeping orbit safe—but he does it anyway, because the world needs it.”
Chapter 3
A tense twenty-four hours had passed since Adrian and Mars landed in Brunei. They had stayed at a hole-in-the-wall motel, and at every moment the thought of their discovery by Australian govern ment officials threatened to invade Adrian’s thoughts. Thanks to Mars’s constant communication with Alice, they had orchestrated a covert logistical arrangement to move themselves and the XS-15 to a more secure location. Adrian kept telling himself that the phrase “covert logistical arrangement” was just another instance of mental acrobat ics on his part. There was no way around the fact that he was now involved in an illegal smuggling operation.
If only his fellow Rangers could see him now. It was hard for Adrian to keep the bitterness from his thoughts. He had no intention of becoming a criminal, but his circumstances left him little choice. He spent most of the previous night tossing and turning on the lumpy, cheap motel mattress imagining ways to maneuver the XS-15 into US airspace. Most of his imagined scenarios were contrived and made little logical sense. However, by the time morning rays of sun light sliced through the gaps in the nearly impenetrable blackout cur tains, Adrian had promised himself that one way or another, he would see the mission through to the end.
According to Mars, their smuggling contact required them to be at the hangar in the late morning. They had done just that, and Adrian found himself standing at the aft section of the XS-15 pretending to examine the rocket engine nozzle with a constantly shifting gaze.
“Adrian, your elevated heart rate indicates that you are in a state of extreme stress. I would recommend several deep breaths and a calm ing visualization exercise.” Mars muttered this as he sat on his haunches next to Adrian.
“Thanks for the tip, Mars,” Adrian answered dryly. “I think I’ll stick to visualizing Vance in a fiery explosion.”
“Suit yourself, Adrian. I admire your single-minded dedication to the mission, but I worry you’ll wear yourself out before we even get to Qatar,” Mars replied.
“Qatar. So that’s where we’re going.” Adrian was so preoccupied with thoughts of their goal he never asked where their next destination was. “Well, I suppose it’s one step closer to Vance.”
Mars cocked his head to the side as he heard the hollow thud of heels against concrete. Adrian and Mars turned to find a well-dressed woman wearing fashionable, overly large black sunglasses. Her shining black hair was cut into a bob and her outfit, a blazer and slim-fitting pencil skirt, all in black, suggested an air of sophistication. Behind the woman, three gruff-looking men in grey jumpsuits carried a large blue tarp. Adrian tensed as the woman approached.
“Mr. White.” The woman’s accent suggested a South American origin, but Adrian could not place it. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be assisting you in moving yourself, your dog, and your vehicle to the Shadhavar.”
“I’m sorry, the what? And I’m not Mr. White,” Adrian replied.
“The Shadhavar, a cargo ship docked nearby. All our clients are Mr. or Miss White, as anonymity is one of our top priorities. I’m sure you have many questions, and I assure you none of them are import ant right now. We are operating on a strict timetable, and if you would like to be out of the region within the next forty-eight hours, I sug gest you do exactly as I say. Are we clear?” The woman removed her sunglasses and tucked them away, revealing piercing almond eyes. As she did, so an aircraft tug drove into the hanger controlled by a man in a grey jumpsuit. Following the tug was a pickup truck full of tools, a forklift, and a semi-trailer hauling the first of three shipping containers.
“Crystal,” Adrian replied, hating the fact that he knew almost nothing about the woman or her employer. “Just tell us what you need.”
“Good. On behalf of my employer, I guarantee we will make every effort to ensure your concealment and safety. Now, if you don’t mind, please step aside so that my mechanics may get to work.” The woman turned to the three men behind her and barked orders in what sounded like some form of Arabic. The three men began unfolding the large tarp and lying it flat on the ground.
“Now wait a second, I thought the—”
“Mr. White, we cannot get you through Kuala Belait port author ity without having yourself and your dog on the Shadhavar’s mani fest. Seeing as your intent is to move covertly, we’re going to get you on board the ship without having your presence known to the port authority. That means you’ll be loaded onto the ship, along with your vehicle, inside a shipping container.” The woman’s tone was com manding. “Unfortunately, your aircraft is too large to fit in a conven tional shipping container, so it will need to be partially dismantled and shipped via multiple containers.”
Adrian glanced down at Mars, and the fox terrier issued an almost imperceptible shrug. Adrian instantly thought of Alice. He couldn’t imagine her reaction to this woman’s intent to dismantle the XS-15. Adrian guessed it would come to blows.
“This is a one of a—” Adrian cut himself short. He didn’t need this woman to know how rare the XS-15 was. “This aircraft repre sents a considerable investment. Do your guys even know what they’re doing?”
“Mr. White, my mechanics are the best in our field. They special ize in moving vehicles and weaponry around international compli ance and documentation regulations.” Her speech was rapid fire, the woman’s impatience clearly in conflict with her professionalism. “We’ll start by siphoning any fuel left in the vehicle and disconnecting all electrical systems. We’ll remove the tail section and the wings, keeping them mostly intact. We’ll separate the fuselage into more manageable pieces and crate everything.”
As the woman spoke the bay door to the hangar was being closed, the aircraft tug was being hooked up to the XS-15’s landing gear, and tools were being offloaded. Adrian realized that there was little he could do to stop the tide of change “Fine, but I’ll have you know that if this vehicle is harmed in any way, the woman who designed it will probably hunt you down.”
“Yes, we get that a lot,” the woman replied dryly. “Mr. White, with your permission, we would like to sedate your dog.” The woman stated this carefully, her piercing gaze falling on Mars.
“Absolutely not.” Adrian reacted instinctively. He wasn’t even sure if a sedative would work on Mars. Would it cause his biological or mechanical systems to malfunction?
“I understand your reservations, but silence during your transportation to the ship is imperative.” The woman responded more force fully this time. Adrian glanced down at Mars and didn’t see any sign of alarm or dismay.
“Uh—he’s a service dog, so it won’t be a problem, he knows better,” Adrian said, thinking quickly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. White, but this point is nonnegotiable. Smug gling animals always requires the use of sedatives, they’re too unpre dictable. Of course, you are free to decline, and we may pack up and leave you to find your way out of Brunei …” The woman trailed off, gazing across the hangar at the mechanics setting up their disman tling operation, looking quite impatient. Adrian felt the wet nose of a fox terrier nuzzle the palm of his hand. He looked down and recog nized the calm, uncaring demeanor in the dog’s expression. After an agonizing moment, Adrian relented.
“Fine, but if anything happens to my dog …” Adrian trailed off.
“Mr. White, we are professionals. The smuggling of animals is a task we handle frequently, and we haven’t lost one yet. So, if you would please load your dog into the shipping container, we can get you where you need to go.”
When was it going to end? It seemed like everywhere he went Adrian was always backpedaling, defending himself against the wills of organizations, corporations, and influential people. He felt like he was on a constant defensive, making small sacrifices for incremen tal gains that seemed inconsequential in comparison to the grand scheme. When was the balance going to shift? When was he going to be on the attack? When were people going to make small sacrifices to make way for his will?
Adrian pushed on Mars’s haunches as he awkwardly scampered up the ladder accessing the shipping container resting on the bed of the semi-trailer. Mars found his way to the rear of the container as Adrian climbed in. The back of the container was dark, and its floor looked as if it was covered in a fine layer of foreign sand, maybe the sand of Qatar. The woman followed up the ladder and patted Mars, cooing at him as she scratched under his chin with her left hand. Her right hand rose and revealed a syringe which quickly and expertly dug into Mars’s neck. Mars did not flinch or yelp in surprise.
“Your dog is well trained, Mr. White. You’ll both take a nice long nap, and we’ll see you in twenty-four hours.” The woman said.
“Wait, twenty-four hours?! I thought—” Adrian began as his eyes tracked a flash of movement.
With the skill of a seasoned criminal and a deadly grace few in her world could rival, the woman’s hand darted to her waistline and a sec ond syringe emerged. Her movement was fluid and calculated and, in an instant, the needle was buried in Adrian’s neck.
Before he could react or even register the threat, the woman expertly pressed the plunger down and his eyes widened as he felt the cool sen sation of liquid flooding his muscle tissue. It was too late. The seda tive acted swiftly as Adrian stumbled and fell back to sit, his vision already beginning to blur.
The woman stepped back and Adrian watched her turn and walk away as a state of increasing paralysis washed over him. The door to the shipping container closed and Adrian was plunged into dark ness. He fought to cling to consciousness. He used every ounce of focus he had obtained through years of rigorous training to, at the very least, move his index finger. He could only muster the faintest twitch. His breathing became ragged as panic set in, the darkness swallowed everything, and he melted into nothing.
Adrian forced his eyes open and saw he was lying in a bed. It wasn’t just any bed, it was his bed, the bed he and Anna shared for so many years. He felt a familiar warmth next to him and saw a body curled under layers of blankets. He instantly recognized the back of Anna’s neck; he had spent so much time rubbing the tension from her neck and shoulders, there was no mistaking it. Adrian tried to reach out but found his limbs were dead. Again, he mustered his focus and will, but he could not move. He tried to call out to Anna but his vocal cords refused to activate. If he could just reach her, get her attention, get her to roll over, he could see her beautiful face again, he could hold her again, they could be together. Adrian fought with all his might against the binds that held him, but to no avail. Even the will of an Orbital Ranger had its limitations in the face of destiny. Adrian’s vision disappeared, and for the first time in weeks he fell into a sound, restful sleep.
As promised, twenty-four hours later Adrian awoke, lying on a cot surrounded by stacks of shipping containers. His body ached and his
mind was sluggish as he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. As he looked around, he noticed that the shipping containers almost entirely encompassed the space he occupied. Unbeknownst to Adrian, the containers were arranged to create a small, hidden cubby space within the Shadhavar’s cargo hold. His eyes fell upon a man who looked as if he was expectantly waiting. His figure was imposing. Tall and broad shouldered, he held himself with the confidence of a leader. His eyes held a steely resolve behind the confidence, and his salt and pep per beard added a refined ruggedness to his appearance. His close cropped hair looked as if it were jet black at one point, but now it had succumbed to the passage of time and was liberally streaked with silver. Startled, Adrian sat bolt upright.
“Whoa, easy, friend. You’re safe, don’t worry. You, your dog, and the vehicle are all aboard my ship.” The man gracefully brought his hand to his chest. “Tiberius Blackwood, at your service. I am the one your associate is employing to move you and your vehicle.” Tiberius chuckled as he took a step forward, straightening the deep, rich char coal grey jacket of his stylish suit. “I have to say, had I known I was transporting the infamous Ranger, Adrian Bowman, I would have taken further precautions.”
“Yeah, your precautions are extensive,” Adrian replied, rubbing the point on his neck where the sedative was administered.
“Sorry about that. Isabella is tenacious but she has your best interest at heart. I can’t tell you how many smuggling jobs are ruined by passengers panicking in enclosed spaces and being discovered. She did you a favor. Would you want to spend twenty-four hours awake in the dark?”
“She could have warned me.”
“Yet she didn’t. And now I find myself ferrying a man the world thinks is dead, a man the world would surely show great interest in if he were known to be alive.” The corner of Tiberius’s mouth turned up into a sly smirk.
“So, what’s your game? If you turn me in I’ll make sure your little smuggling enterprise is over.” Adrian locked his gaze with Tiberius’s. The moment felt as if it stretched for minutes until Tiberius burst into laughter. His response echoed across the cargo hold and his demeanor changed slightly, as if he now regarded Adrian with respect.
“Right you are, my friend. The news feeds portray you as a sniv eling coward who shamed himself and his organization only to die at the edge of the atmosphere. Something tells me you are no coward, Adrian.”
“None of it is true, I mean, what the news feeds are spouting.”
“Oh, I believe you,” said Tiberius. “News always has a motive; the trick is having the discernment to find the nugget of truth. Perhaps the truth is that you survived thanks to your bravery and your survival is inconvenient for someone.”
“Wow, that’s actually close to the mark.” Adrian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched.
“I’ve been playing these games for a long time. I know a betrayal when I see one.”
Adrian felt cautious respect for Tiberius. The man was clearly tal ented, seeing as he commanded an entire logistics structure that moon lighted as a smuggling operation. It was his charm that made Adrian uneasy. Just like the news, charmers always had a motive. “So, what’s the plan, then? We get to Qatar, and you drop us at the nearest flight line?”
“If only it were so simple,” Tiberius responded. “Once we reach Port Ras Laffan in nine days, we’ll get you ashore the same way we got you onboard. The shipping container you will occupy will then be brought to a warehouse that I use to store … personal goods. From there, I’ll gladly give you a week to get your affairs in order, and you may go wherever you go.”
“I’ve spent the last six months hiding from the world, what’s another nine days?” Adrian asked the question more to himself than Tiberius.
“You must have had quite a journey so far. Tell me your tale, Ranger.” Tiberius smiled in just the right way to put Adrian at ease and sat on a small crate near Adrian’s cot.
Adrian was glad for the company, but he would have to recount the events of the last six months of his life carefully. There would be no mention of Mars or the XS-15’s capabilities. For a time, Adrian and Tiberius spoke of their pasts, both carefully curating the details to ensure mutual safety. It would seem the two men had found an unex pected bond in the fact that they both had led daring lives that required the selective telling of the truth. However, neither man was sure if the selective truth counted as lying.
Adrian sighed deeply. “You know, Tiberius, I just can’t keep doing this. It’s the same old story, over and over again.”
Tiberius raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “What do you mean, the same old story?”
“I mean, I keep finding myself in these situations where …” Adrian paused, searching for the right words. “I feel like a victim. It’s like a never-ending cycle. I’m tired of it.”
Tiberius nodded, understanding. Tiberius’s journey to this point in his life has been nothing short of remarkable. Born into a modest family, he showed early signs of exceptional intelligence and resource fulness. His thirst for knowledge and relentless work ethic propelled him through Harvard, where he honed his skills in commerce and busi ness. As he entered the world of legitimate business, Tiberius quickly climbed the ranks and established himself as a shrewd, yet fair, mer chant. His wealth grew exponentially, but he never lost sight of his roots and the value of hard work.