Chapter 26

“Where are we going, Mark?”

“Joshua Tree park for about five days, then maybe north to the Mojave for a few days. Or at least until I get called back.”

“I have never been in the desert. Did you know my five years at Fullerton was the first time I was outside of Northern California?”

“This shit is totally different. Ain’t no trees to protect that hot, blonde body, lady. Not everybody likes this type of place. It ain’t easy, but it’s sure as shit the most cool area in the world to walk around ... I wanna die somewhere out in a desert like this, away from everything.”

“Mark? Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay in the desert, Sandy.”

All of the earlier years, that Nick and Joe and myself had frequented the Mojave and Sonoran and Chihuahuan and Great Basin deserts, were much more than the fraternal outings of off-duty Marines. We had descended into the deserts as a devotional and for a spiritual adjunct. These deserts enabled our three young jarhead minds to straddle the bridge between secular and non-secular sensibilities. These deserts were our Mecca.

The deserts of southwest America have always fascinated me. The area is wide open, free of the claustrophobic and oppressive density of the life squashed into the eastern third of CONUS. The desert, like Heinlein’s moon, is a harsh mistress. ‘She’ does not offer the easy life of a rich and packed ecosystem per the heavily-watered areas of the east and the northwest.

Conversely, of these environs, was the opposite side. The side that would wage a (losing) war with the Dark Side, the enclave formed of the narrow surf zones, the gateway to the oceans’ giver of life and hope. The narrowness of the surf zone represents the extreme limitations of the Jedi. While the desert is limitless, open, and hostile to anyone seeking comfort in life. Unlike the surf zone, the desert does offer a well-defined promise. A promise of cruel retribution for disrespect and stupidity. The desert is fueled by the power of the Dark Side.

The first time I witnessed the desert punish the weak and stupid became my indoctrination; a formal introduction to the physicality of the Dark Side. I did not recoil from the vision of the two baked bodies, slightly mummified, in extremis, per the heat and dryness of Death Valley. When I did not recoil, or find horror in the two bodies; I found the power and majesty of the Dark Side.

The wide, open expanse of a desert is intended to wreak despair and a sense of fatalism onto the weak. The desert is the glory of pain and a harsh discomfit. I loved the desert’s cruelty with a passion and wanted to see if this simple lady of music could understand my sick devotion to the austere and brutal, and perhaps share that passion. That and I wanted to get away from the stupid jarheads that had been assigned to secure our ad-hoc site.

“You were right about boot size. And the way you set up my pack feels better. Is this part of what they train Marines to do?”

“Only grunts get a lot of that stuff; they call it ‘field-craft’. I’m not certain how they run ITS now, but for technical MOSs, you’re only doing infantry training for about two weeks. Nick says it’s different now. So I never did much field work. Ya ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“Ranger station. Gotta get a back-country permit. Then we’re gonna do the HRT trail. Nick and I did it in two days, in the summer, but that’s probably a bit too much for most people. I was thinkin at least four days, so we can take some side trips.”

“Side trips?”

“Yep. One will be for water. Probably not legal to go in that area, but fuck ‘em. There is an unmapped spring in a canyon a few clicks south of Covington Flat.”

“You can see forever, Mark.”

“Yeah, looks like we got some decent vis today. Usually can’t see shit looking west or south.”

“Why?”

“Because of ‘L’ fucking ‘A’. All of that crap LA air blows through the Banning Pass with sort of a venturi effect, then pushes it up the Bernadino mountains and into the desert ... Ya doing okay? Boots and pack okay?”

“I am fine, Mark. I could spend a week on this mountain. It’s so different, it is a special kind of beauty. The pinyons, junipers, and joshuas are so beautiful. How do these plants survive?”

“Yeah, this area is always tits. They get a bit of snow in this area, and some from the monsoons during summer. Which is why I wanna get through the length of the park. We’re between storms for about ten days.”

Fuck yeah, I know that smile. What got her suddenly worked up? Yep, her headlights are on high-beam.

“You think that these mountains are ‘tits’, Mark? How about these?”

Oh, yeah. Air those tits out. Love what the cold air does to them nips.

“What was that mountain we were on yesterday?”

“It’s gonna be ‘Tits Mountain’ in my mind. It’s called Quail Mountain. Why?”

“Because I want to always remember it. Where are we going today?”

“Heading south, into the Bernadino mountains. I wanna show ya something.”

“What?”

“If we’re lucky, you’ll see. Not gonna tell ya.”

Shit. Wrong canyon? Did I miss it? Fuck, was probably distracted by her musical tits. Them tits sure seem to be holding up. And she ain’t complaining about shit ... No, there’s the triple Josh tree. Fucking-A, that’s the side-canyon.

“Let’s drop our shit here.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Shhh. You will see ... follow me.”

Seeing a large animal in the desert is often the high point of my wilderness wanderings. The small gaggle of bighorn mountain sheep was magnificent. I have always respected these animals that are able to thrive in a demanding and unforgiving environment.

I have had three ‘epiphanies’ in this life, and this is the one that I’ve yet to understand. Sharing this ‘secret’ place with Sandy and seeing her reaction tripped something in my weird little brain-housing group.

I do not know why, but as we stood against the canyon wall, with an intent watch of the bighorn sheep, I reached for Sandy’s hand. It was a different and new type of intimacy, at least for me. It rated further up the scale than the first time my hands cupped bare tits; holding hands with Sandy was, in fact, tits.

As the bighorns completed their tasks at the spring, The big male ushered the ewes up the canyon wall. Their climb out of the canyon was yet another act of natural magic. Fuck the ‘shock and awe’ of human contrivances, these animals were a better implementation of awesome, and it was obvious that Sandy was feeling the same.

Waiting another 15 minutes after the bighorns had disappeared into the mountains, we continued up canyon to observe the copse of trees and smaller plants surrounding the spring. The whole scene had a steamed mystic, a sense of magic, where the desert offered a rare bout of kindness.

I fought that foolish notion of magic down, as I returned to a more logical analysis of this uncommon milieu. The area was highly fractured and made of a heavily dissected plutonic block of granite, thrust up from the violent motions of the San Andreas fault. This transverse mountain range offered the desert a mechanism to collect water and channel it down, then collect along an impermeable layer, then be forced out into this small canyon by hydraulic pressure.

But the mountain did not ‘waste’ the water only to create a fleeting short-term oasis. The water traveled a few meters down the canyon to a second pool, where the water, again, disappeared back into the mountains, probably only to re-emerge as an intermittent stream in the lower desert valley.

“It is so beautiful, Mark. Almost as if the mountain is making amends for being so mean to the life in the area. Those mountain sheep, they are incredible. Are there many of them?”

“Dunno. I’m guessing that the past one or two hundred years have been tough on all desert critters. But all of this cool shit was here before man fucked it up, and they’ll be here after we’re long gone.”

“Is it bad for the animals for us to be here?”

Holeee shit. The woman really sees it. She feels it. What do I do with this? What do I do?

“Yeah, that’s exactly right, lady. It’s why Nick and me never told anyone about this place. Lets fill up and get the water treated. Gotta get back on the trail.”

“Where the fuck are you, Watson?”

“About a hundred clicks north, the Mojave. What’s up, gunny?”

“Get your tourista ass back here. Freaking ASAP.”

“Aye, gunny. We’ll be packed up and on the road in thirty mike.”

“What is going on, Mark?”

“Dunno. Probably the coffee machine doesn’t work or something. Shit, nothing good lasts; let’s mount out, lady.”

“These two weeks have been the best, Mark. Thank you for showing me your special places.”

“No problema.”

That same dumbshit lineman still working at Fullerton airport? ... At least Dianne is waiting for me this time. The bitch looks serious. I wonder what sort of weapons were packed for her?

“So you’re gonna be Major Moron’s replacement?”

“Who?”

“She was some army intel officer that I was chauffeuring around to do spook shit. And I’m pretty sure the bitch was a hit-man.”

“I do not know of this woman. Mark, Gunny Scott warned you about what you should and should not know.”

“Yeah, Yeah. You’re right. The equipment Major Hegstrom gave me for you is on board. Ya have my instructions?”

“Plan flights for this itinerary. Also, in that gear you loaded, is a new Glock pistol. It is for you.”

“Something wrong with my gun? Does it give ya bad memories?”

“Don’t be an asshole. It apparently bothers you more than me. The major wanted you to carry something other than your revolver.”

“I’ll keep it in my bag, but my carry will not change.”

“Suit yourself, Mark.”

“Go play with your shit, I’m gonna read these instructions. Then I gotta go file at the FBO.”

Damn. There she is, my beautiful Malibu. Still here at Fullerton? Wonder how she’s doing?

“Howdy. How long you had that Malibu?”

“Hello. About a year. Are you familiar with this airplane?”

“Uh, no. Just thinking that it’s a good lookin plane. How she fly?”

“Handles wonderfully. It’s my first high performance airplane. Wish I could talk to the original owner.”

“Why’s that?”

“I found non-factory sensors, transducers, and signal boxes. Had my mechanic look at it. Really good work, but no paperwork, so not able to get an STC. I have never seen a sensor network quite like that.”

“Well that sucks. I know a good IA at Montgomery field that does shit like that. Maybe he can help.”

“I would be interested. Shall I follow you into the FBO?”

Damn. He found all of my shit. How did he recognize it? Maybe he’s an engineer. Will have to find a way to place a watch on him and that bird.

“I missed you, Mark. How was the trip?”

“Now I know how a charter pilot feels. Where’s the gunny?”

“Scotty sent me to collect you. He, and others, have been hovering over those computer monitors for three days. I am not sure if they have taken a break.”

“Ya doing okay, Sandy?”

“I’m okay. Just lonely.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout we smash lips for a while? would that help?”

And maybe I can do a thorough tit re-examination later. Damn. Those are perfect lips. Feels so fuckin good...

“Dianne Santiago reported complete success at each site. Good job, Watson.”

“Just driving the bus, gunny. If psycho-bitch is happy, I’m happy. So what’s with the gaggle-fuck?”

“Were tracking a completely different set of groups at this time. It is ... well, it is very ‘interesting’. We need you to do some updates to your firmware.”

“For the rev two boards? If its rev three shit, maybe. Otherwise what’s in the ROM, stays in the ROM.”

“We know that. There are three systems we need updated. One is version two, two are version three.”

“Okay. Tell me what ya want my stuff to do, then I’ll tell you why it can’t be done, or that it will take too long.”

“Eat shit, Watson. The specs are on the table in your trailer. Quit fucking around and get to work.”

“What’s for chow?”

“How the fuck should I know? Focus, asshole.”

“Ya really need to get a blow-job or something. Relax, gunny. I’m going to the trailer.”

“You’re right about the gunny. The man is really stressed out. I wanna know what this new group is, heard anything about them? What ya cooking?”

“Chops, potato. And a salad, which you WILL eat, Mark. I have no idea about who they are watching. But Scotty did insist that I make you read the papers in that folder.”

“I think that you could persuade me to eat rabbit food, and to read his shit ... Ya know what, where are our jarheads?”

“They set up camp on the other side of the airfield. They come out at sunset and move around the area. They look like they’re ready for war or something.”

What the fuck, over? They running patrols at night? They just training or they think we got a security issue? Probably should keep my gun handy. Maybe I should teach Sandy to shoot.

“Gonna go to the truck and get my flight bag.”

Holeee shit. These jarheads got face paint and full deuce gear and everything. That squad leader looks fucking serious. This is not good. Don’t see no BFAs, so this ain’t no training gig. Why the fuck we need this much security? Maybe I should turn the lights off tonight. Wait, then I can’t stare at her hot body. What a choice, ensure survival or ensure a fully-illuminated view of tits. Fuck this shit, I vote tits.

“Can you do a sensor array around your trailer and the compound on base, like you did around the hangar in Colorado?”

“Probably. Will need some ultrasonics and PIRs and cameras. Why the compound? It’s inside the base.”

“We think that they will be directed attempts to find us. Elements of the CIA and Justice Department may have linked us to the disappearance of Delta and Echo.”

“They? So ya snatched Rog and Suzy? This is too much, gunny. Maybe it’s time for me to know what your end-game for this weird shit.”

“What do you want to know?”

“The usual shit. Who is this gang of merry men you are working for? Is it legal? Do any elected assholes run your dog and pony show, or you running some DOD splinter group?”

“What if I give you a backgrounder, then we’ll go from there, and see if you still want to know particulars? If you go all in, your future options become limited.”

“Limited? If ya tell me what’s going on, and I walk, ya gonna come after me?”

“Maybe. That would be the major’s decision.”

“Okay, start with the beginning of this weird shit.”

“Military intelligence, which was the original intelligence community dates back to George Washington, during the revolution. Literally. Did you know, that during the first five years of our nation’s existence, the intel appropriations by congress was over twelve per cent of the federal budget?”

“Yeah? So?”

“The subsequent military IC had been never been over one per cent of our budget since the War of 1812, up to and including the Civil War. The intel community was static until the Civil War, when the American military was introduced to counter-insurgency, and the detection of misdirected interests due to countermanding internal insurgencies. Afterwards, up to World War Two, retrenchment returned, which continued a decreasing IC funding.”

“Have no fucking idea what you just said.”

“Americans have historically been isolationists, a facile policy due to our unique geography. So the only time intel gets increased funding is when we are at war, or are attacked.”

“Yeah? So what? Why spend big bucks on military intel unless you’re lookin’ for a fight?”

“Simple. Think Pearl Harbor.”

“Yeah. How ‘bout I’m thinkin’ Latin America, Iran, Bay of Pigs, and who the fuck knows what else. We weren’t at war with any of those assholes. Fuckin CIA does nothing but run around and start dumpster fires, while the Army and Marines have to go put them out. So yeah, fuck intel funding when we’re not in a shootin’ war.”

“Again, simplistic. Pearl Harbor was a profound failure of the Intelligence Community. Which brings us to the second World War. The creation of the OSS also resulted in the creation of another intel group, both internal and external to the IC that was not visible to congress, or even most of the executive. This group watched the watchers.”

“What does a watch-dog unit have to do with what I said, or Pearl Harbor?”

“Shut up, Watson. Listen ... These new internal groups were not formed of people out of the military intel training pipeline. These people were recruited from regular military line units, people that could innovate and had demonstrated certain ‘flexible’ characteristics. That is, they were able to make shit up as things evolved, because these people had no formal policy and minimal formal indoc, and no training for counter-insurgency. Or for that matter, any other intel activities.”

Yep, the gunny is telling what what I been thinking. Probably why no one trusts anyone else; I can relate to that. Why do I feel this is gonna be a long one?

“During World War II, the OSS was formed. It was generally well-funded and highly effective, which means it freaked out the Justice Department, the FBI in particular. Thus, the creation of internal watch-dogs continued, but this time they were easy to mask, mostly because of the largess of a war-time budget.”

“So the FBI ran these original OSS ‘watch-dog’ groups within CONUS?”

“Yes, and that was the basis of the huge arguments about control and mission for the intel community immediately after the war. Truman convinced congress to take the IC away from the military and create the CIA when the OSS was dissolved. But they formed a CIA having a mostly civilian rank and file, and had no concept of an internal watch-dog group. And because they were insular bureaucrats, they did not want any such group in their organization. So the Navy NIS and Army CIDC guys decided to stand up their own internal watch-dog groups, mostly within CONUS, to watch the Justice Department, in general; and the State and Treasury Departments and CIA in particular.”

“Wow. The DoD is keeping tabs on the civies? Ya gotta admit that’s sorta ass-backwards. So Major Hegstrom’s group is the latest version of this spook-on-spook shit?”

“We are a unit of that group. We watch the watchers. The CIA and DIA knows that such groups exist among them, but, at least to date, have no knowledge of our technique, personnel, or locations.”

“Okay, now explain Johnson and Santiago. They’re Justice and Treasury. Yet they are now part of this shindig.”

“They were brought aboard by the major, and some happenstance.”

“How many are in these groups?”

“As for the head count, I do not know. As is the CIA, we are also compartmentalized. I am, however, aware of at least one other group, but they have a different handler and report to a different military officer.”

“Mad Magazine.”

“What?”

“Ya know, ‘Spy versus Spy’. Have ya people ever actually caught anyone in the intel community that went rogue and attempted to do some really wild shit, ya know, like an over-throw of our government?”

“I’ll get to that ... Mad Magazine? Good to see that you continue to self-educate read more than just science-fiction.”

“Bite me, gunny. Sandy said that Mad magazine is legit social commentary, or some shit like that.”

Speaking of that hot blue-eyed musician, wonder what she’s making for chow. Wonder if the gunny wants to come out to the trailer for chow.

“As for anybody planning an armed coup d’etat, not gonna happen. As least not under these current conditions.”

“Current conditions?”

“Remember all of the jingoist crap during and after Desert Storm? Shock and Awe. Nintendo War. And other such nonsense. The strategy and tactics used in Desert Storm were from a policy called ‘Rapid Dominance’. Everybody though it was a huge success. That was total bullshit, but the civilian leaders did not allow the ground and air commanders to say it.”

“I was there, gunny. At least to me, it seemed to work.”

“That is an example of what we are up against. The propaganda machine that the CIA and Justice people use to misdirect and cover. A true ‘Rapid Dominance’ would have been a war no more than three to six weeks, and required the immediate destruction of the power and water infrastructure, and the de-capitation of all military and civil authorities. But the CIA wanted to protect certain factions in Iraq. Also the CIA had too many people running around in Iraq; so many that they literally blocked us from bombing the Iraqi army and their central government and their infrastructure into oblivion.”

“That many? Really? What the fuck were they doin?”

“Do not know what they were doing in any particular sense. We do know that there was close to two thousand operatives and many JSOC forces, mostly in and around Baghdad. There was a SEAL unit that called off an air strike that would have wiped out the top four Iraqi generals, and probably Saddam himself. That would have ended most of the shit right there.”

“They called it off? What the fuck for?”

“The CIA had previously called an airstrike because they supposedly had found Saddam. Some 117s bombed the place, but he was not there. Subsequently, a SEAL team found him and were able to contact the DCI through JSOC, who contacted POTUS, who said no. Why? Not a fucking clue as to why. All I can say is that Bush, himself being a former DCI, had various reasons. This is one of the reasons we have to watch the IC. We need to know not just their agenda, but the rationale for that agenda. And we need to know why they put on this act of trying to find Hussein, then let him go.”

“Ya over-thinking is gunny. There’s no rationale for politicians, other than doing shit that will get them re-elected ... Uh, what ya doin’ for chow tonight, gunny? Sandy is cookin up some chops and stuff. Stop by the trailer around 1900?”

“Sounds good, Watson ... Uh, Mark? You want to talk about Sandra Collins?”

“If ya think she’s a security risk, that’s a no-go, guns. She’s a good egg. A bit over-the-top in the artistic department, but she’s cool.”

“She has been fully vetted, so that is a non-issue. I want to talk about you and her ... let us have a dose of reality here. You do not do well in the relationship category. Your fling with Santiago did you no good.”

“You saying I’m diving back into the dumpster?”

“I am not a shrink, so probably shouldn’t be talking. While I did have a fucked up marriage, I did manage to have a good divorce. And that may be the best that, at least for people like you and me, can expect of any intimate relationship, in the long term.”

“What should I do? You think I shouldn’t get in any deeper? Should I call it off?”

“That is not what I am saying. Protect yourself. Do not put all of your emotional energy into her. And this can be difficult, but, no matter how well shit is going, always have an exit planned; both materially and spiritually.”

Well fuck me. If the gunny is looking at yet another crash-and-burn, then maybe I should just ‘exit’ this shit now. Wait, why is Sandy even here?

“Understand, guns. One thing, though. What is the purpose of Sandy being here? There’s gotta be some place else just as secure. And having her be around a bunch of horn-dog jarheads all the time has gotta a be tough on her. I mean, the girl got no previous experience with military or assholes like me.”

“Yes, it is a well-documented fact that you are an asshole. The difference here is that she seems to be quite taken with you. The original intent was to bring all of the Hats family together at this site. We need the principal execs of Hats Industries safe and to remain in control of their organization.”

“Sandy is an executive?”

“She has been the COO of Hats Industries for almost a year.”

“No shit!? So that’s what she’s been working on. Every night she cranks on stupid spreadsheets. That shit would put me in a coma. Did ya know that you can program that excel dogshit in VB? You can do dual pivots...”

“Don’t want to hear it, Watson. So are you ready to hear the biggy?”

“The biggy? There’s more to this watcher shit?”

“Your Major ‘Moron’, and Dianne Santiago and Nick Sons. For this group, our mission is the support Santiago and Sons.”

“Support Dianne? Nick? How?”

“Logistical and tactical support.”

“Tactical? They’re shooters!?”

“If necessary. In about ten to fifteen days, you will be their support. We will brief this later.”

“So you interrupted Nick’s career to play him as a fucking hit-man? That’s total bullshit guns. He was the best at what he did. He fucking wrote the manual on ILSMT for the F-18. He re-wrote the bench code and tossed all of that stupid ATLAS shit. There wasn’t another Marine more valuable to NAVAIR.”

“That he was. Sons probably saved the taxpayers hundreds of millions, and got the boy another NAM, too. But he did not want his next set of orders. When he found that he was going to North Island, he told the sergeant major to shove his master guns warrant up his ass and refused the PCS orders. Sons is made of the same stuff as yourself, Watson. He constantly needs new toys to play with and new games to play.”

“Nick never told me that he told his smadj to shove it. So he’s gonna retire this year?”

“Nope, he will remain on the books. Sons was PCS’d to ComNavAir, the NAMP office. From there, he received TAD orders for detached duty to TECOM at HQ, Quantico. TECOM has T/O lines for this stuff.”

“No shit? If Nick wants to play spy versus spy, it’s okay with me. It’s stupid, but it’s cool ... Ya coming by for chow?”

“Lady, what ya doin? The gunny’s gonna be at the hatch any minute.”

“Kiss me, Mark.”

Yeah, why the fuck not? ... Damn ... lips and tits. Life is good ... so much for my exit plan. No, gotta work on it. Damn, love them flutist lips.

“Sandy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do ya think I’m an asshole, or that I am crazy?”

“Mark?! What a question. No and no. You are different. I knew that after that first tutorial session for algebra. I liked how you liked math, how you were determined to help me understand math, and how you were always trying different ways to explain math.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. Always wondered if I was fucking up peoples’ minds with the ways I tried to explain shit.”

“Oh, Mark ... You were perfect. You were so different. I could see that you were always thinking about stuff. And you never dismissed me for my ignorance of the subject.”

“Cool. I hope all of the other students saw it that way.”

“I do not think that they did see it that way.”

“No? That sucks.”

“It does not suck, Mark. I saw you as someone special. I loved you from the beginning. But it was a difficult time for you. You were mostly just trying to survive.”

“Yeah? When I thought that Bill was your boyfriend. And Bill was really cool, so didn’t want to mess with anything. Guess that I was really stupid, huh?”

“I did not think that ... Turn the oven off, Mark.”

“Yeah. Chow smells good. Darcy? Want some?”

No, he certainly does not. Quit feeding him human food, he will get fat.”

“He ain’t fat, and neither is Nyota. She gets my chow all the time. And Darcy gets lots of exercise playing around with the jarheads. Uh, what’s this box?”

“Sports bras.”

“Why?”

“Look at my boobs, Mark.”

“Ya don’t have to ask me that twice.”

“Seriously. I love running in the morning with you, but my other bras weren’t supporting me.”

“Yeah. Good idea. Wouldn’t want to damage your tits. As tits go, they don’t get better than those. Ya know what? Probably a good thing. Your bouncing tits are a big distraction. You, lady, are a major traffic hazard.”

“You are so sweet, Mark.”

There it is again. I’m fucking ‘sweet’. What the fuck is that. ‘Sweet’? ... Yeah, whatever, plaster that body to me. Time for a major wet smooch ... Wait, maybe Sandy should not be running with me. Tits have a lot of fatty tissue. And what about that glorious ass? What if she gets all skinny? That would suck. Can’t allow any significant mass reduction in the butt or tits ... Why she pulling away?

“Mark? ... Get to door.”

“Huh? ... oh, yeah ... Hey, guns. Wanna beer?”

“That would be good. Hello, Sandra. Smells good.”

“Hello, Scotty. Please, have a seat ... You told me last week that Billy had returned to California. Where is he now?”

“We picked William Hats up at the Oakland airport, to be de-briefed by Johnson. After that, I am not certain what Major Hegstrom has in mind.”

“Ya said that you were gonna bring the Hats family to one place. How ‘bout bringing Bill here?”

“If that is what individual members of the Hats family wants. But there are limits to what can be done for them...”

Geez, now he got Sandy all cranked. Shit, there goes my quiet night. Fuck me.