Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack Read online

  FLAPJACK

  Daniel Ganninger

  Flapjack

  Case File #1 of Icarus Investigation

  Copyright © 2013 by Daniel Ganninger

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Front Cover Art and Design by Daniel Ganninger

  To Lisbeth, my best editor

  -Prologue-

  The lights of the street lamps illuminated the inside of the sedan as it moved slowly along the deserted city streets. The vehicle followed the curves of the road until it arrived at a pair of stone pillars that began the perimeter of a university campus.

  “Ready the supplies,” a large burly man barked from the front passenger seat of the black sedan.

  Two men in the back seat followed the order silently, reaching for black bags at their feet.

  “Let’s get this done. No screw-ups and stay concealed, we don’t need any unwanted visitors. You know the plan, in and out, that’s it. We’ll get further orders when we get inside.”

  “It’s a little strange, don’t you think Sarge?” the driver of the vehicle asked Sergeant Walker.

  “We just follow the orders Turner. We’re not getting paid to think.”

  Turner nodded and turned his gaze to the blackness outside the window.

  “Gott, Parker, is everything ready?” Sergeant Walker inquired.

  “Yes sir,” the pair answered in unison from the back seat.

  Sergeant Walker opened his door and moved to the sidewalk as Gott and Parker scrambled out and followed close behind, single file. The Sergeant turned back to the awaiting vehicle and spoke softly.

  “Turner, meet us at the extraction point on my call. If we’re not out in twenty minutes, you leave without us. Understand?”

  “Yes sir. Twenty minutes,” Turner repeated. “It ain’t like Kandahar, is it Sarge.”

  “Nothing could be like that hell hole. Remember, twenty minutes, no more, no less,” he ordered again.

  Turner sped off up the street leaving the three men alone on the sidewalk in the dark, between the round columns of light from the street lamps.

  Sergeant Walker gave a wave of his hand and the three men began a slow, crouched jog into a grove of trees just beyond the entry columns of the university.

  The group moved silently and methodically through the trees, careful to avoid any available light from the nearby buildings. The Sergeant quickened their pace as they neared an open plaza and a group of well lit structures.

  The time was 3:23 in the morning on an unusual warm June night and the campus lay mostly deserted. The team needed to move quickly to avoid the occasional campus police patrol, or students who may have been traveling through the campus after a late night summer study session.

  The men made it safely across the plaza and closed in on a stone and glass five story building. They were only three minutes into the operation when they heard voices coming in their direction; a group of students returning to their dorms after a night of clubbing.

  Sarge held up his fist and stopped the other men in their tracks as the students passed by, unaware of the three men lurking in the shadows. As the party revelers disappeared in the distance, the team continued their movement to the building’s edge and hid behind a large group of shrubbery.

  “Gott, take up position here and keep us informed on any movements,” the Sergeant ordered. Gott immediately handed Parker his bag who hiked it up on his shoulder.

  “What you got in here, rocks?” Parker whispered to Gott as he heaved the bag further onto his back.

  Gott gave him a sly smile. “I wouldn’t jostle that bag too much,” he warned.

  “Ready the radios,” Sergeant Walker announced, ignoring the exchange between the two men.

  Each man put in an earpiece and tested them for the proper sounds.

  “Loud and clear,” Gott announced. “Fifteen minutes and counting.”

  “No one in or out that front door,” the Sergeant ordered Gott, pointing at the building. “Let’s go Parker, try to keep up,” he barked as Parker heaved the packs on his back.

  The men moved to the side of the building and arrived at a fire exit door that stood on the windowless side of the structure. A lone light illuminated the door. Parker pulled a towel from the bag and climbed the stairway leading to the door. He reached up, placed the towel around the light and smashed it, causing the light to go out and the shards of glass to fall harmlessly into the towel. The door grew black from the loss of light and hid the men in the darkness. Parker placed the wrapped up towel back in his bag and pulled out a large pair of wire cutters. He methodically moved to a metal encased wire protector and carefully cut the wire, disabling the alarm to the door.

  Sergeant Walker calmly checked his watch as Parker continued his work on the door, this time replacing the wire cutter with a crowbar. Parker placed the tool between the door and the metal casing and pulled, wrenching the door open after one effort.

  The men pulled up black hoods from around their necks that only showed their eyes before they fully opened the door, causing a stream of light to exit from the stairwell inside the building.

  Sergeant Walker flew through the door and up the stairs as Parker followed closely behind, careful to close the door behind him. The team moved up the flight of stairs until they reached the fifth floor. An exit door led into the hallway of the floor, but before entering the Sergeant keyed his radio once, giving Gott the indication that they had acquired entry into the building and arrived at the fifth floor.

  Parker set to work again. He took out a snake-like tube attached to a small portable video screen and placed it between a crack in the door as he opened it. On the screen the hallway appeared, deserted, but brightly illuminated. He scanned both directions, looking for any unwanted guests. When he was satisfied, Parker gave the Sergeant a thumb up sign.

  Sergeant Walker wasted no time and burst through the door and into the hallway, walking quickly to the right. He paused at each door in the hall until he came upon office door number 515. Sergeant Walker confirmed the number on the door to what he had written earlier on his wrist and the numbers matched. The Sergeant keyed his radio two times and received two audible beeps back from Gott. All was clear. Sergeant Walker motioned for Parker to come to the door.

  The office door had a keyless lock and a card reader attached above the door knob. Parker pulled out a credit card with a wire attached to a small box and ran the card in the slot above the door knob. Numbers flew over the screen on the box for a few seconds and then stopped. He pulled the card out quickly and a small green light lit on the door, the tumblers clicked, and the door unlocked.

  Sergeant Walker prowled his way in first, with a flashlight at the ready, while Parker dragged the bags in. The Sergeant keyed his radio three times and checked his watch. It had been ten minutes since they had started the operation and they only had ten minutes to finish.

  “Let’s see what they want us to do,” he told Parker who milled about behind him, awaiting his orders. Sergeant Walker pulled out his cell phone, scrolled for the letters “WM”, and pressed the button to connect to the programmed numb
er. The other end of the phone clicked on.

  “We’re in. What are your orders?” The Sergeant asked.

  “Find the two black boxes as planned. Retrieve both and gather any hard drives.” The voice paused. “The other team hasn’t been able to locate the professor so I want you to torch the entire laboratory.”

  “Yes sir,” Sergeant Walker stated coldly.

  “After completion, drive to the Wilmington airport. A flight will be waiting.”

  “Wilmington, yes sir,” the sergeant stated again.

  The line went dead and Walker quickly put the phone back in his pocket.

  “Clear out the hard drives and wire the area with the explosives. I’m going to look for these black boxes,” Sergeant Walker ordered Parker.

  Parker dropped the bags and pulled out some pliers and a battery powered screwdriver. He used his flashlight to survey the room and picked out the areas of work. He counted four computers and found the nearest one. Parker used the pliers to rip off the casing and violently turned the machinery on its side until he could get to the hard drive. He quickly unscrewed the drive from the casing and placed it carefully in his bag. He repeated the process at the next computer without concern about subtlety or care.

  Sergeant Walker used his light to prowl through the nearby desks in an attempt to look for the black boxes. He had a small picture of what he was looking for, but the multitude of electronic equipment made it difficult to differentiate it in the dark. As he neared the back of the room he noticed a small table against the wall with wires protruding from it, connected to a nearby oscilloscope and a laptop computer. Walker followed the lines to the tabletop and there sat the two black boxes that matched his picture. He wasted no time in callously ripping the wires from the boxes that were slightly larger than a deck of playing cards. He placed the boxes into his bag along with the laptop from the table.

  Parker had finished his first job of removing the hard drives and now worked on the more delicate task of placing the dangerous explosives around the room. He reached in the bag Gott had given him and took out some detonator cord, an electronic timer, and a small quantity of Semtex, a general purpose plastic explosive, malleable, and about the size of sticks of chewing gum. This is what Gott had warned him about. The explosive was essentially harmless in its present state, but that would soon change.

  Parker began to place small pieces of the explosive under and around the various computers and tables that scattered the room. He spliced each with a piece of detonator cord and connected them to the electronic timer. The goal was to keep the explosion contained to the room and the fire would be contained by the overhead sprinklers. The team didn’t need to draw even more attention to themselves by blowing up most of the building.

  Parker set the timer as Sergeant Walker waited impatiently behind him. They had four minutes remaining before they would have to fend for themselves. Satisfied that everything was setup correctly and the subsequent detonation wouldn’t blow a hole in the side of the building, Parker nodded to Walker. Walker surveyed the room one more time, making sure they hadn’t left anything behind. He keyed his radio three times and pulled out his phone.

  “We’re ready,” Walker called to Turner, their driver, over the phone. Turner didn’t answer and began the race to their extraction point.

  Parker moved to the door and used the camera to check the hall again. All was still clear. The team moved quickly out of the office and down the hall to the fire door exit.

  They raced down the concrete stairs to their original entry point, but as the men rounded the last stairwell near the exit into the night air, the fire door leading from the first floor opened suddenly. A security guard strolled through the door and met the men face to face by accident. Panic crossed his face as he gawked at the black clad men. Before the guard could react to the sight, Sergeant Walker jumped toward him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and spun him around to face Parker.

  Parker reacted quickly and pulled out a 9 mm handgun, but instead of shooting the guard he struck him squarely on the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious, crumpled on the floor. Walker pulled the man under the stairway while Parker began to bind his hands and feet with electrical wire from the bag. Walker taped the man’s mouth with duct tape and shoved him further under the stairwell, out of view from someone entering the area.

  Only one minute remained on the clock as the team flew out the door with the packs bouncing on their backs. As they rounded the corner they noticed the black sedan approaching quickly up the adjacent street.

  Gott appeared at their side as they reached the vehicle, which was now moving slowly but not yet stopped. Turner saw the men and slammed on the brakes as the team threw themselves and their equipment in the car. When he saw everyone was in the car, Turner jammed the accelerator, leaving a screech from the tires as they left the front of the building.

  After the men made their final turn to a successful escape, Sergeant Walker turned around and peered through the back window. In the distance he noticed a dull orange glow and a faint thump from the fifth floor window as the explosives detonated, destroying the laboratory. He pulled the black mask off his head, revealing a sweaty face.

  “Good work men,” Walker announced. He turned and faced forward as the car sped on. “I need to make a call that we’ve had a successful operation.”

  -Chapter 1-

  The sound of whirling motors resonated outside my bedroom window and I pulled my pillow hard over my head attempting to make the sound go away. It was the 1st day of April and a thoughtful lawn crew was doing their daily wakeup call at my luxury apartment home, as the management chose to call it.

  I decided it would be best to go ahead and stumble out of bed. In the process of doing this I ran my shoulder into my bedroom wall and tripped over clothes strewn on the floor as I made my way to the bathroom. I missed the toilet, took a five minute, slightly warm shower and shaved my face with a sub-standard razor. It was quite a way to start another day. Before leaving the apartment I took a quick gulp of some questionable orange juice that resided in my refrigerator and off to work I went, ready for anything.

  Possibly some excitement or drama awaited me this day, but so far it wasn’t turning out that way. A crappy commute through crowded freeways and rude drivers confronted me as I made way to my home away from home.

  I worked at Tesla Technology Suppliers. It sat on a grassy knoll behind a gleaming ten story office building in an industrial park in northern San Diego, California. The company was named after the great inventor Nikola Tesla, who demonstrated wireless communication in 1893 and was a pioneer in electromagnetism. But Tesla Technology was not as great as the inventor’s name it used. Tesla himself might wonder why his name was placed on a sign where the “s” had slid off many months ago, and the “T” and “e” were obscured by a mutant tree that pushed up the pavement in front of the building. Instead we were referred to as “la Technologies”. Either we were from Mexico, given our location in southern California, or if we were lucky, from France. Neither of those spots helped business.

  I was never sure what we really did. It had something to do with copper for electronics, or some such thing. I was an Account Executive, and unfortunately, the title didn’t fit the job. I simply made sure we got paid for this copper stuff we were selling to someone to put into something. It could be sliced, eaten, or worn as a hat for all I cared, it didn’t matter to me.

  “You parked in the wrong spot again,” I heard as I was greeted by Belinda, our sloth-like receptionist who peered at me over her thick glasses. “They’re coming to pave that area today, you knew that,” she told me scornfully.

  “They can pave over my car today for all I care. I got an envelope in the mail that says I have parking privileges anywhere in the state. I could even park on someone if I liked.” I strode past her, not making eye contact.

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered, tapping away on her computer keyboard with her nicotine stained fingers. />
  I rolled past her on the way to my “office”, a six-foot by six-foot cube I had christened, “The Madman’s Sanctuary”.

  A voice boomed from a neighboring cubicle as I sat down. “Did you know that Elvis and Nixon had a private meeting where Elvis wanted to help with the war on drugs? He even got a complimentary badge as a member of the Drug Enforcement Agency,”

  “That’s a fascinating tidbit of information,” I replied flatly, fiddling with things on my desk.

  This was a common occurrence between my cubicle neighbor and me. He always attempted to stump me with little known trivia early in the day. We used it to decide who would pay for lunch.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not interested in the paradox and irony of that meeting,” the voice snapped back.

  “It is quite fascinating. But did you know Elvis also gave Nixon a Colt-45 and family photos to commemorate their meeting. Plus, Presley requested to be a Federal Agent-at-Large in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. He was concerned about the increase in drug use in the country.”

  “Yes, but why was that nutty?” the voice questioned.

  “He had something like 5000 pills prescribed in the months before he kicked off. I believe it was narcotics and amphetamines,” I replied smugly as I scoured the papers on my desk. “You gave me an easy one this morning, Galveston. Lunch is on you.”

  “So I’m a little off my game, so sue me,” Galveston said dryly from behind his cardboard and metal partition, the sound of a clicking mouse coming from his desk. He was cheating no less, using the computer to facilitate his questions.

  It had become a morning ritual with us, useless banter about useless facts of the world. We had both become obsessed with these history tidbits that few realized occurred, and even fewer cared about. It told so much about the way we receive and disseminate information and how little everyone knows about true history, but we mainly used it to fight the urge of putting our heads between the cubicle walls and ending it all. So that is rather melodramatic, but Galveston had become the one saving grace in this seventh dimension of hell we kindly referred to as, “la Technologies”.