Chapter 11: Patience Fades

The tacos were just great. Tim was still not doing anything to jeopardize the loss of the twice-a-week breakfast tacos treats.

George was still bringing in the savory, artery-clogging breakfast tacos from everyone's favorite family restaurant. In fact, George was now adding an extra taco, since he understood the body's instant response once it smelled one of Yolanda's tacos. Whether breakfast tacos dripping in the grease of the Mexican sausage and fluffy egg combination, or the mouth-watering sauce caressing the soft chunks of beef in their infamous carne guisada tacos – once you smell one it is almost impossible to enjoy the first taco, since you eat it so quickly and hardly taste it.

Tim was enjoying licking the grease that escaped from the last taco off his wrist. If anyone had been watching, it would have been hilarious. Someone was watching.

"I can't believe how much he enjoys those tacos! Well, actually, I can believe how much he enjoys those tacos," George joked with the three other security guards assigned to the day shift. "That is always the worst feeling in the world, when you realize that you just ate the last bite was of the last taco. Damn, I know that feeling well."

Tim Murphy was living that exact moment when, after licking the dripping grease off of his wrist, he realized he'd finished the last taco and he would soon be returning to the daily drone of inept interrogators and their endless attempts at accessing some new piece of information. But, according to the nanites coursing through his body, an increase in carrier wave emissions emanating from between somewhere inside Ft. Sam Houston proper and the underground facility meant communications between higher level people was now in play. While there was an increase, there were still no emissions within the nanite carrier waves of communications. So Tim's hypothesis of no nanites in this timeline was still true. However, Tim felt with the increased communications he was soon to meet some new players in this game. Maybe, he might be able to get a few more answers for his questions. Realistically, though, he knew he would probably just find new pieces for the puzzle.

"Okay, Mr. Murphy, please assume the position."

Tim recognized George's deep voice and also its underlying promise of nothing wrong or out of the ordinary was going to happen, so Tim felt reciprocation of intentions were appropriate. The keypad clicked its acceptance of the code from outside, and beeped its approval followed by the retraction of the bolts into the door frame.

However, a rushed conversation ended with George saying in an obviously annoyed manner, "Ugh, okay. Murphy we are going to be a couple more minutes. Just wait for the door to lock again and have a seat. Shouldn't be but a moment."

The door closed and the bolts slid back into place, re-locking the room.

Tim sat back down on his bunk and began contemplating what was going on. "Well, that is a bit different. It's easy to tell George was pissed at someone screwing with his schedule. George likes to keep his schedule." He smiled, remembering his old mentor and his constant advice of setting a schedule and forcing yourself to keep it.

The pleasant remembrance continued when Tim thought again, "Well, if he wants to save a couple of minutes, maybe he can forget about circulating through the offices and through the ancillary rooms before we head back to the conference room. No need for the supposedly confusing theatrics."

"Hey, George, new boss wants you on the secure screen."

"Just what I freakin' need, a change in my schedule. We weren't supposed to start moving Murphy to the new interrogation building until next week. I'll bet that is what this is about." George locked the door and made his way into the security office while the rest of the guards filtered out into the hall, since no one wanted to wait in the cell anteroom. They'd rather wait in the hall.

"Asshole is probably trying to make himself look good, and he has been having guys fix his new office all weekend, just so he can start up first thing Monday morning. Yep, that's probably exactly what it is."

Seated back at the security supervisor's desk, George locked the office once everyone had cleared out. Regulations stated only people of proper and/or higher clearance could be in the same room when conversations regarding classified materials were conducted. George logged himself into the computer system, and while waiting for the computer to go through the security checks, he activated an electronic surveillance countermeasure device to make sure no one may have activated some sort of listening device in the security office. Yes, it was overkill; but since he would be sitting there waiting for the computer to recognize him as the proper personnel, he thought to kill two birds with one stone.

While waving the device around the office, George thought to himself "Yeah, that asshole would put a bug in here just to make sure I was still following proper protocols."

Suddenly, while near the magazines on the center coffee table in the office, the bug finder started beeping. Trapped inside of a three year old copy of Sports Illustrated, was a small envelope, and easily found inside it was a small quarter-sized object, presumably the bug. Inside the envelope was indeed a standard listening device, in current use by not only his government, but several other governments and quite a few private companies as well. Along with the bug was a small note that read, "Show me the bug when we start our conversation, Monday morning." It was signed by Colonel Price.

George rolled his eyes in disbelief after reading the note. He returned to his desk and waited for the video conference with his new supervising officer to begin. The friendly ping signified the start of the video conference, and George held up the listening device so it could be seen by the camera. Initially Colonel Price had a disappointed scowl across his face but then he recognized the bug and a cold smile appeared.

"Ah, good! I knew I picked the right man for the job. To tell you the truth, George, I thought you would miss that bug, but no worries. Okay, my men over here at the old library have been working all weekend, and we are ready to get started rather than waiting until Wednesday. Were you able to get everything ready on your end to begin transporting the visitor over here?"

"Affirmative, sir. I got the cart all juiced up, and on Friday I welded extra hand rails for the passenger to both hold onto and for us to attach cuffs to make sure he can't run. Though once in the tunnel, he only has two ways to go." George punctuated the confirmation with a broad smile to show the colonel he was serious about his work but was willing to be a good guy.

"Great, actually we had not even thought of having the passenger secured while in transit since, as you put it, he only has two ways to go." The Colonel returned the smile.

"So should I bring him over now, or do you want him there at a particular time?"

"Um, now will work, George. Again, be careful. We don't really know who we are dealing with. He did gain access into one of the world's most secret facilities, and by the size of him, and the way he moves, you and I both know the man can do some damage if he decided to bolt or to just be belligerent." George quickly agreed. "Oh, on another note, I decided to try that place where you all get the tacos for our guest. Damn, those are some of the best I have ever tasted! I am definitely going to be there pretty often. Maybe we can meet-up, either before or afterwards, and share a couple of tacos. Christ, I'll have to watch out for my girlish figure with those things so near! See you in a few minutes."

The video conference ended, and George leaned back in his seat and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. On the security camera of the hall, he could see his three other security guards waiting for him to come out and to help move Murphy from his cell over to the interrogation room upstairs.

"Okay, let's get this over with."

"All right, guys, Colonel Price and his men at the new CIDSI-HQ have been working all weekend to get ready for their new jobs. They are raring to go, so rather than Wednesday, we start transporting Mr. Murphy today. Joe, go ahead and park the e-cart we made the modifications to on Friday, at the front gate of the tunnel entrance. Also make sure the way is clear to move him without anyone being in the way."

Joe, the guard, went off towards the tunnel, two flights down.

"Now guys, the best and quickest way to move him would be to take him directly to the service elevator and straight down to the underground motor pool, then lock him onto the 'Mad Max' cart and go directly to the new HQ. Once we are in the tunnel, you lock the gate behind us. Then one of you monitors us from there, while the other goes back to the security office and informs CIDSI-HQ we are on the way. From there, Mr. Murphy is their problem, until they tell us to come pick him up. Any questions? No? Good. Let's do this quick, fast, and in a hurry."

The general malaise of doing the job the same way every day quickly evaporated, and the guards got a little pep in their step. George entered the cell's anteroom, and clicked on the speaker, "Mr. Murphy we will be doing things a little differently this morning. You are being transferred to a new facility to continue your interrogations. When you are finished there, you'll be returned here every evening to sleep. Basically, you are going out to work. Now I know you know this facility well, so I won't make you go through the steps of not knowing where you are going. We are heading downstairs to the tunnel, where I will be driving you to the new interrogation facility that was created just for you. Give me a thumbs up if you understand."

After the confirmation George continued, "Okay, we will keep the bag over your head; not to keep you from knowing where you are going, but to keep you from seeing who else might be in the facility. Do you understand that?"

Another thumbs up.

"Alright then, you be calm and don't cause trouble, and we can get you some carne guisada tonight and maybe even a Coke if you are cool with that." Tim was shooting both thumbs in the air. It looked like he was enthusiastically milking a fifteen foot tall cow.

"Good! Assume the position, and let's go see what these people want with you. We are about two minutes late. They've already screwed up my schedule, and I hate that."

"Affirmative. We are ready to receive guests. Anyone else coming besides the primary and the driver?" Sgt John Thomas asked before hanging up the secured phone.

Sgt. Thomas was almost as anxious to get started with his newest assignment as his immediate commander, Colonel Kevin Price. "Okay, I have them on the feed, now. Once past the half way mark we will take possession of the guest."

Colonel Price showed his eagerness when he saw the first signs of the transfer on the camera feed by standing and getting ready to make his way to the interrogations room.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm just as excited as you are, but they are still a good ten to fifteen minutes away."

The smile on Sgt. Thomas's face was just as big as Colonel Price's grin.

"Yeah, I guess we are both kind of anxious to get started, huh?"

"Oh, definitely, sir. But we can join Ramirez and Joseph when they meet the guest at the tunnel. Then we can all show them to the interrogations suite."

While talking, Sgt. Thomas was collecting his personal equipment and preparing to do just what he suggested. The sergeant fell in behind the colonel when they both left their office and headed towards the secret basement several yards below the actual basement.

The building, now serving as the new headquarters for the Pentagon's Criminal Investigations Division – Special Investigations, was most recently used as miscellaneous office space. Before that, the building served as the temporary base library after the original library burned down. The building was chosen since it was just large enough to house the library, and the offices located there could be moved elsewhere. The building is also one of the few buildings at Ft. Sam Houston that had a basement. Basements are not a normal design feature in homes or buildings in San Antonio.

While the initial reports from the first interrogations of Murphy were somewhat enlightening, the government was still at a loss to explain how a nearly four hundred pound man gained access into one of this county's most secret military laboratories. Further interrogations were ordered, but they soon revealed he was not exactly forthcoming with answers to the questions. Plans started flowing from secretive offices within the Defense Intelligence Agency who had operators specializing in extracting information from seemingly uncooperative individuals. All they needed was the authorization to "do whatever was necessary to get the job done."

It was a surprisingly simple conversation between upper-level military intelligence superiors to get full authorization for complete autonomy for Colonel Price and the CID-SI. The question was asked and the paperwork approved over a cup of coffee between Colonel Price's superior and the DIA Chief of Staff. The only sticking point was availability. It would be a couple of months before the squad was allowed to finish their most recent mission and then be reassigned to Ft. Sam Houston for the new one.

The tunnel system was created when the government decided to build one of their new secret laboratory complexes under the site of the new Brooke Army Medical Center. It was on land just outside the base itself, but the land still belonged to the military, it was just never utilized. The old BAMC was originally the focal point for Ft. Sam Houston. The old hospital, while still state of the art, was in old buildings and desperate to grow. With the upgrades in medicine requiring newer facilities, building a larger and more state-of-the-art hospital was easier than renovating the older one again.

Building the labs came first, and they were excavated from the ground before the land for the new BAMC was completely leveled. The land was heavily wooded and bordered along a major highway. Interstate 35 is a major U.S. thoroughfare running from Laredo, TX on the Texas-Mexico border to Duluth, MN, basically a highway cutting the country in half.

Now the government was going to build a top secret laboratory within eyesight of a major highway and in sight of millions of motorists driving by everyday. So they dug and set the foundations for the lab before they knocked down all the trees in the greenbelt. Instant cover, and once the bottom levels were finished, building the new state-of-the-art 450-bed hospital began in earnest. No one worried about the building going on in that isolated corner behind the Texas National Guard Armory. The Guard's collection of large military vehicles parked in a massive parking lot visible from the same highway created additional cover for the construction.

Tim Murphy sat quietly in the passenger seat of the modified electric golf cart while he and George Johnson made the trip via the underground tunnels bored under Ft. Sam Houston. Tim was handcuffed and shackled from his feet to his torso and to the foot panel of the cart, with an extra chain from his hands to a pole on the dashboard of the gold cart. For the first time since his return, Tim did not know exactly where he was, and the manifestations of his feelings were being controlled by the nanites in his system.