Mark Young - Off the grid

A white gravel path wound between closely shorn lawns, neatly clipped grass looking like huge putting greens one after another, and beds of bushes and what promised to be flowering plants by next spring. Now, a harsh winter severed most of the leaves, leaving dead stems and freshly turned soil. Their destination, a gray limestone mansion replete with stone turrets at each of the four corners of the building.

Great location for snipers. Gerrit looked for signs of increased security. As he drew closer, a dark pod under one of the eaves caught his attention. A surveillance camera. Once he spotted that one, others were easier to pick out. Based on their locations on this side of the building, he surmised there was no way to approach this building without discovery.

Near a grove of trees to his far right, Gerrit saw a dark rectangular box-an unattended ground sensor-its blackened antenna sticking up like a slender finger near the trunk of one tree. He hadn’t seen these since his days overseas, only those in the military had been cruder. They used them around their home base to warn of intruders approaching the camp. He imagined there might be a dozen of these sensors strategically peppered across the estate. They were walking into a well-monitored fortress.

He had yet to see weapons, but he suspected there might be at least one pointed at him this very second from one of those four turrets. Or from one of the many darkened windows overlooking the grounds.

They neared a U-shaped building, wrapped around a courtyard replete with bare rose bushes and low-kept hedges struggling to keep their green. Lefty dashed ahead and opened a ponderous wooden door. Kane and the others passed through before the ex-boxer slammed it closed.

The quiet serenity of the estate outside changed once they entered the building. A sense of urgency seemed to fill the air as they walked across the main floor. Many of the rooms had been turned into small business centers, desks sat back-to-back, manned by men and women in conservative business attire. Hardly anyone looked up as Kane and his entourage swept upstairs.

Gerrit and the others came to an office that overlooked the same grounds they covered from the helicopter. Large, paned-glass windows allowed dreary illumination from outside to creep into this massive room. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, each bearing rows of leather-bound books, crafted into the walls on all fours sides, except where doorways and a fireplace demanded their space. A desk stood in the center of the room, surrounded by several club chairs and a sofa. A fire crackled in the hearth-built from Blu Venato d?Italia marble-and warmth from the flames fought the cold trying to creep in from outside.

After settling himself at the desk, Kane waved the others away and motioned Gerrit to take one of the chairs.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Not to be melodramatic, but I sincerely believe our country’s future security is at stake. I-and the people I represent-intend to meet that challenge head-on. We could use your help.”

“I’m a local cop. What can I offer?”

For a moment, Kane seemed to be pondering Gerrit’s question. “I’ve read your file, Gerrit. You’re much more than a cop. A lot more.”

“I’ve got a few science degrees and I served in the military. Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Precisely. You’ve got a scientist’s brain, and you’ve got behind-the-lines military experience. I need a man just like you.”

“Those skills might be useful in war, but I’m no longer in the military. And I’m behind the ball with regard to what I studied at MIT. What do you want from me-exactly?”

“Before I tell you, let me explain what I do.”

“Senator Summers said you’re a businessman.”

“Actually, that’s only one of the hats I wear. I only use my business interests as a means to an end.”

“An end to what?”

“I’ll share all that later. For now, all you need to know is that I am a…facilitator, a consultant, to our government and other interested parties.”

“Interested parties?”

Kane leaned his hands on the desktop and pushed back in his chair. “My main objective is not important. Not for the mission at hand.”

Gerrit felt uneasy about Kane’s vagueness. “Does this mission have anything to do with ECHELON’s major facilities only a few miles away at RAF Menwith Hill?”

Kane started to smirk, but then seemed to catch himself. “Ah yes. Everyone’s heard of ECHELON, that so-called ultra secret network whereby our five allied governments spy on the world by listening in and monitoring all electronic communications worldwide. That ECHELON?”

Gerrit nodded.

“We are so far beyond that, my boy. I received permission to share certain classified information with you.” He stood, gesturing to Gerrit. “Come with me. Let’s mosey downstairs.”

Frustrated, Gerrit stood, watching Kane head toward the door. He felt this man would never get to the point. They walked out into the hallway and down the far end of the corridor, stopping in front of what looked like a service elevator. Gerrit realized this lift-like everything about this place-was more than it appeared.

Kane peered into an iris scan and then placed his index finger on a print scanner. Once cleared, the door opened and he received authorization to navigate the elevator. Upon reaching a deep subterranean level, the door rolled open and Gerrit saw another whole floor-absent any windows-spreading out before him, much like a police squad room. Offices bordered an open bull pen that contained a number of workstations, each cubicle walled by three panels about five feet high. The offices must have been for those supervising the workforce, those minions stationed in cubicles under the watchful eyes of their bosses.

“This is where our real work takes place,” Kane said. “That stuff upstairs-just window dressing.”

Gerrit followed Kane along one wall of cubicles until they reached a corner office with Kane’s name stenciled on an opaque glass-paned door. Kane thrust open the door and beckoned him inside. “Okay, now we can talk. There is nothing-at least in today’s technology-that can intercept our conversation here.” He approached the far side of a desk.

Gerrit sat across from Kane, the older man easing into the chair before speaking. “I need a man who can blend into the scientific community, into a specific field of which you are quite familiar.”

“Nanotechnology,” Gerrit said. “I’ve been out of that field for more than a decade-a lifetime in my field of study.”

“You’ve been gone, but you can still speak the language. I need a man who can talk the talk while sifting through the unimportant and extract the important.”

“Extract the important? What do you mean?”

Kane leaned forward, cupping his hands together under his chin. “I need you to get your hands on specific research material, pull out the important information, and then sabotage their efforts.”

“Who are we talking about?”

A rap on the door interrupted them. Kane leaned over, whispering, “We’ll talk about this later.” Then, in a louder voice, he said, “Come on in, George.”

A ruddy-faced man nearing seventy entered, followed by a younger and slimmer gentleman. “George Lawton, kind of you to join us.”

The older man extended a hand to Kane, glancing at Gerrit with interest. “Brought the other chap with me that we spoke about.” George turned to the man next to him. “Henry, say hello to a friend of mine from across the pond. Richard Kane and-”

“Gerrit O’Rourke,” Kane said, without looking at Gerrit. He seemed to be studying the new man Lawton brought with him. “Gerrit, I’d like to introduce Henry-”

“Clarke,” the young man said. “ Doctor Henry Clarke, actually.” Clarke shook Gerrit’s hand as the two men eyed each other. “Looks like you’re working for me, Dr. O’Rourke. You take orders well?” The man chuckled, but his eyes held no humor.