Beyond Top Secret: A Zach Taylor Adventure Read online

  BEYOND

  TOP SECRET

  A ZACH TAYLOR ADVENTURE

  BRIAN C. ANDERSON

  Copyright © 2018 Brian C. Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-9831-8309-6

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

  DEDICATION

  To my wonderful wife, Lelia. Without you, this novel would not exist. Your love, support, encouragement, and ideas were instrumental in the final product. The unwavering desire to discover ‘what happens next?’ Kept me writing this book, for you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A special thank you to Lahoma Almasy, (Mom). Her help was invaluable while proofreading and editing, which created an improved finished product for your enjoyment.

  Prologue

  Zach Taylor, in his own words, was a professional extreme adventurer. When he would make that proclamation, it usually received blank stares and forced smiles. The majority of his acquaintances felt he had abandoned his intellectual calling and turned into just another rebellious young man. Zach graduated from MIT with an advanced degree at the age of twenty-two, and everyone assumed his future career was cast in stone. It could be argued his intelligence, and early upbringing pushed him towards a nonconformist future. A lack of emphasis on physical activity as a youth had left a void in Zach’s life. His adventures were a way of correcting the imbalance. Four years after his first adventure Zach became well known for his wild stunts and also established a lucrative income in the process. One day, out of the blue, Zach was contacted by a company based in Virginia, and after a brief conversation, agreed to meet with their CEO, Jake Dunlap. That meeting changed Zach’s life dramatically, and the term ‘adventurer’ took on a whole new definition.

  Chapter 1

  Blue Ridge Mountains 2003 CE (Current Era)

  Zach arrived at his mountain cabin late at night and headed straight for his bedroom. He planned to sleep in, but the brilliance of the sun met the clear, crisp sky to announce the morning’s six o’clock arrival, and Zach's plan was thwarted. The mountain elevation increased the intensity of the sun’s rays, and with the window uncovered, the bedroom became flooded with bright light. Not ready to get up, Zach threw the pillow over his face in a feeble attempt to dampen the brightness. He tossed and turned and repositioned the headrest all to no avail. The sunshine engulfed every nook and cranny and dashed all hopes of sleeping late. I need some heavy duty curtains on that window, Zach thought.

  Never at his retreat for lengthy periods of time, the memory of the sun’s intensity would fade before Zach was somewhere that had the curtains he needed. With no choice but to surrender to the brightness, Zach glanced at the clock and did a quick mental calculation to determine how many hours he had slept. Five hours would have to do, Zach thought and decided to get his day started.

  His legs dropped off the side of the bed, the cold wood floor assaulted his senses and sent a chill up his spine. The intense cold caused an involuntary recoil that left his feet dangling inches above the surface. Alerted to the chilly indoctrination he was about to experience, Zach lowered his feet again in a slow and deliberate motion. He tiptoed to the closet and slid his feet into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers. He thought, some men might laugh, but they kept his feet warm, and that’s all that mattered.

  The entire cabin had bare wood floors, and since the weather in late April was always unpredictable, the slippers were a necessity. Despite being aware of how much temperatures fluctuate in April, the coldness caught him off guard, as year after year it caught him off guard. As if saying it out loud would help him remember, he said to no one, “I need to get some rugs when I get those curtains.” Who am I kidding? He thought, with a grin.

  Zach threw on his robe and made his way to the kitchen to tend to the wood burning cook stove. Remnants of burnt wood still occupied the stove’s belly, Zach had been called away on short notice and hadn’t had time to clean out the ashes. He grabbed a fireplace shovel and pail and went to work. As Zach shoveled the bellies contents into the bucket, plumes of ash flew into the air, then settled on the floor around the bucket. He left the ashes for later cleanup. His primary objective was to get a fire started. On this cold morning, the last task Zach wanted to do was fetch firewood, and luckily there was still kindling and logs in the box. With the skills of a master fire starter, he positioned the tinder and logs in just the right configuration. A single match brought the twigs to life, and as the flames kissed the wood, it was only a matter of minutes before a robust fire filled the stove’s belly.

  His primary objective completed, Zach turned his attention to what he considered an essential task every morning, making coffee. An old beat up tin percolator coffee pot sat on the shelf ready to be called into service. The coffee pot hadn’t been used for months and proved itself to be a stellar dust magnet. Zach pulled the percolator from the shelf and used his sleeve to wipe off the exterior dust. He opened the pot, removed the basket and blew inside. The dust particles showered his face and caused a short coughing spat. Zach decided a quick swish with water was in order. Satisfied the pot was clean enough for him, he filled it with fresh water and put the coffee grounds in the small basket on a pole.

  Zach placed the coffee pot on the stove and anxiously awaited his first cup of coffee for the day. The high octane beverage, a potent, bold brew was a slightly thicker consistency than typical coffee, helped him find the energy to start his day. Most people would consider his version of coffee an espresso that should be in little espresso cups, but he used an over-sized mug to facilitate his morning caffeine intake.

  His definition of a good cup of coffee took longer to brew, so Zach knew he had some time to kill. Today he wanted to relax which consisted of one activity, fishing, his favorite and most rewarding leisure activity. To prepare for his day, Zach shuffled into the living room, opened the massive tackle box on the workbench and gazed at the eclectic assortment of gear on display. Comparatively, Zach's tackle box had a more extensive variety than a small tackle shop. In all fairness, Zach’s tackle box was not regionally specific, as is the case with most local shops, which have a small select inventory that targets local waters. Since he always took fishing gear with him on adventures, his tackle assortment would cover almost any destination in the world. Today that was a moot point, as he would be fishing from the dock of his man-made pond.

  Zach was proud of the pond he had built. It was almost two acres in size and stayed full due to the year-round stream he had tapped. A fresh supply of cold mountain water was always entering the pond, which provided an ideal environment for the trout that inhabited his fishing hole. A pipe submerged in the stream siphoned off part of the water that flowed down the mountain but didn't rob the stream of a continuous downstream flow. The pipe went out twenty feet from the stream then took a downward bend and plunged thirty feet into the earth. From there the pipe made another turn and emptied into the pond’s deepest area. At the other end of the body of water, an overflow pipe utilized a fish guard to deliver surface water back into the stream. The design helped maintain a constant water level.

  When Zach constructed the pond, he included a deck that extended two hundred feet from its land-based anchor along pylons that provided a solid foundation. Seldom used, a small rowboat was beached next to the dock. Regardless of its utilization, Zach’s inherent nature was to prepare for all contingencies; therefore he kept the boat for its possible potential future use.

/>   Zach rummaged through the tackle box, found a selection of lures and spinners he favored and laid them out on the workbench. Though it was a well-stocked pond, Zach liked to treat the fishing hole like he would a natural water basin and try different techniques. Experience had taught him it was all based on the fishes mood, assuming fish had moods and wasn’t a presentation issue with the lure.

  The aroma wafting through the cabin told Zach his morning elixir was finally ready. He hurried to the kitchen and poured his first mug of the magic brew. As he slurped the hot liquid, he let out a sigh as the flavor rushed in to delight his palate, and conquer any residual drowsiness.

  With the morning’s priorities addressed and with a mug in hand Zach headed to the bedroom to locate his fishing attire. What he picked out to wear were the only clothes he ever wore when he went fishing. Unlike some superstitious ritual, such as an athlete who wore mismatched socks to keep a streak alive, Zach’s selection was based on practicality. He purposely had a limited wardrobe and had relegated a single set of clothes to take on the abuse of fishing. No amount of laundering could remove the years of blood and guts and fish slime this set of clothes had absorbed.

  After Zach dressed, he returned to the living room and secured his selection of tackle to a specialized strip on the side of his baseball cap. He glanced at the dormant communication center the agency installed while he had been away on his first mission, then headed out the door. The cabin relied solely on wind and solar cells connected to a vast array of batteries, to power the two items that required electricity; the refrigerator and the communication system. The computer that ran the new communication center used the most advanced technology available. Its drawback was it used three times the electricity of the refrigerator.

  Determined to have a relaxing morning he decided not to check for messages from the agency and left the com center off. Zach rationalized the action as a way to minimize electrical consumption while he went fishing.

  He refilled his mug, grabbed his fishing pole and headed out the door. The nip in the air was even colder than Zach expected but knew the sun would warm him soon enough. A short walk down to the dock reinforced his love of this place as he became absorbed in the beauty all around him.

  As he settled into the built-in chair at the end of the dock, he removed his cap to contemplate his first lure du jour. It didn’t take long for him to select the Smithwick Rattlin’ Rouge. After all, it had served him well many times in the past. As his rod tip came forward, the lure made a lazy arc upward, then descended with a plop into the water below.

  He reeled in the artificial bait at a slow pace pausing every so often followed by a slight twitch of his rod. The lure made its way back to the dock with no indication there were fish in the pond. He repeated this cast and retrieval several times all with the same result or lack thereof. Either the fish were all asleep, or this wasn’t the right lure for the day. Zach knew it was the latter and removed his cap to deliberate on his second lure choice.

  Zach tied the new lure onto his line, convinced this one would work. After he cast out his new selection, it took only a few seconds into the retrieval when he felt the slap of a trout strike the lure. The rod tip bent over and pointed towards the water. The motion telegraphed the undeniable fact this was a decent sized fish. Zach reeled and pumped the rod up and down in a synchronized dance. He was determined to discover how big it was. At that moment, his computer phone buzzed and an image of Jake, behind his desk at FAPS headquarters, appeared on the screen.

  Over time agents had pondered different internal names for the agency, after several iterations one finally stuck, based on the odd sense of humor most agents had and their affinity for the agency. They had decided to call themselves FAPS, an acronym for Federal Agency Producing Solutions, something most of them thought the government, as a whole, was unable to accomplish. When Jake became the new director of the agency, he approved the internal use of the acronym, but to the rest of the world, no one would ever hear about the agency. FAPS was in the business of solving ‘problems’ that went beyond what the general population, or even the other intelligence agencies needed to know.

  Zach had forgotten to set the device to only activate on level four emergencies and cursed under his breath at the oversight. The interruption caused Zach to lose his rhythmic retrieval and the fishing line lost the tight hold that kept the hook firmly in place. The slack in the monofilament gave the fish a reprieve and shook itself free of the hook, the fish swam away and headed for its hideout.

  Regardless of the encoded alert level attached to the transmission, Zach knew this was a call he needed to take. Jake’s expression told Zach his boss was extremely troubled.

  “Hello Jake, what’s up?”

  “I know this is your first chance to spend some time at your cabin since you got back from Venezuela, but there’s something I need you to review. Oh, I see you’re fishing, sorry to disturb you, doing any good?”

  “Is it urgent or can I spend my morning trying to catch a fish?” A superfluous query based on Jake’s demeanor.

  “I wouldn’t have interrupted your downtime if I didn’t need you to get on this right away.”

  “That’s all right, I wasn’t getting any bites anyway,” not true but the appropriate thing to say, “so what do you need?”

  “There’s a potential situation we need to discuss. I would suggest you head back up to the com center and take a look at the files I sent. I have the small jet on it’s way to Asheville as we speak. Can you be at the airport in two hours?”

  “I’ll head up now, but give me three. Unless something comes up, I should be at the office in five hours at the latest.”

  “I expect to hear back from you within ten minutes with your initial assessment.”

  Zach grabbed his gear and headed back to the cabin. He sunk into the chair in front of the com center and instructed the system to display all the data Jake had sent. The room filled with virtual displays, each showed a report forwarded to Jake from agents all over the world. Overwhelmed by the volume of information, Jake instructed the system to filter the data based on the magnitude of threat potential. Instantly, displays began to vanish. However, fourteen images remained active. Jake expected a response in ten minutes, so Zach laboriously scanned each display in search of commonalities.

  Connect the dots, he thought, just like that age-old game where an image appeared as you drew lines between consecutive numbers. The picture he created was horrendous. No not horrendous, terrifying was the best way to categorize the image. Relatively new to the agency Zach didn’t understand why a more seasoned team wasn’t Jake's first choice. He knew Jake had a good reason to engage him in such a severe threat this early in his career, but the purpose eluded him.

  Zach secured the cabin, reflected on the gravity of what he read, and headed for his vehicle. He placed a call to Jake, “I’m on my way to the airport now. Is it as bad as it sounds?”

  “If the intel is right, and I have no reason to doubt it, then yes, I’m afraid this could get real bad.”

  “I’ll dig a little deeper into the information you sent on my way over.”

  The link went dead, and Zach told his car to take him to the Asheville airport. While he had been with the agency for only a short time, there was one perk he enjoyed. The technology the agency had at its disposal was far more advanced than what the average person would even imagine was possible. Zach often wondered if virtual displays, or computer phones, or self-driving cars would ever be available to the ordinary citizen. Which would then lead him to question; if those technologies ever become commonplace, what type of new technology would the agency have by then?

  As the car pulled away from his retreat, Zach addressed the onboard computer and asked it to display the files he had flagged as the most critical. He compiled the information into a single document for his meeting with Jake. Zach saw this as a mission that would need several teams assigned to various locations. The available information indicated a p
lan for a coordinated and synchronized attack against American interests worldwide was imminent. As Zach began to understand the situation in more detail, he was even more perplexed at Jake’s decision to bring in such a ‘green’ team.

  The car pulled up in front of the airport and Zach felt confident his concerns would be answered when he met face to face with Jake. Once settled in, Zach wanted to be alert for the meeting and decided to take a short nap. As he faded off to sleep his head was filled with a thousand thoughts; the stories Jake had told him about his introduction to the agency, how Jake had recruited him, and the outcome of his first mission, Venezuela.

  Chapter 2

  Virginia 2000 CE

  A sign on the outside of the building identified the location as the home of Dunlap Import Exports. However, for those that worked in the building, it was known as FAPS’ headquarters. Jake Dunlap sat at his desk located on the tenth floor of the office building. It was a bleak and dreary day, and the westerly wind accentuated the rains force and drove the downpour in an almost horizontal direction. The proximity to the Potomac River eliminated any windbreak which further magnified the dynamic nature of the rain. The intensity of the storm pounding on the windows reminded Jake of a large percussion section in a marching band. The constant drum of the rain mimicked the sound from his last day at the military academy and almost as if in a trance, he thought back to his introduction to the agency he now ran.

  ~~~

  As a young man, Jake had decided he wanted to serve his country and felt he was uniquely qualified to become an officer in the army. He understood what was required and worked the system to receive the required recommendations to attend West Point Military Academy. At the academy, Jake struggled with ‘beast barracks,’ West Point’s name for cadet basic training, but survived the seven-week ordeal and emerged as a real army cadet. With basic training behind him, Jake went on to excel at the academy.