Chapter 345: "I'll Get the Ground Team to Park Safely Out of the Way."

Friday, April 27, 2007 (Continued)

Vanessa parked in the tunnel, the parents went up to the Adults' House to get some cameras while I walked back down the tunnel to get the security guys. We could've summoned them by intercom because it used buried cable that never leaves our property and was therefore almost certainly untapped, but I didn't mind going for a short walk and it'd give me a chance to help ensure there wasn't a traitor in our midst by monitoring their reactions in proximity. With $216 billion at stake, not only did I want to be sure that we got paid, but the Government might have made sure they didn't have to pay by bribing one of our guys to give them warning of our becoming suspicious.

While I was walking down the tunnel, I checked that the girls were in the panic room, then used NP to let them know that we were home again. My standard way of letting them know that "I'm is back and everything is okay," is to squeeze their nipples. It'd evolved from a way of me reassuring them that I was happy, my happiness implying that everything is okay. I suppose I could invent a less sexual way of conveying the message, but I haven't gotten around to it yet, as it's near the bottom of my To Do list (slightly below the bottom, but "near" to it).

I let them know I was back, noticing that none of my bedmates were surprised as they expected us back and they were used to the method. I'd never done anything like that to Donna before though. She'd seen the angel in action on TV and knew most of my secrets now, so there was no real reason why she shouldn't have her nipple squeezed too. I gave her two simultaneous squeezes as well as a BIG surprise. I could see the other girls laughing at Donna's reaction, and I presumed Julia's subsequent talking was her explaining it to Donna.

Donna looked happy and very excited, which will shortly be a good little test for her. The next time she sees me, I'll have some of our security guys with me and it'll be interesting to see how good she is at keeping herself under control. I'll be ready to shut her up if the wrong noises start coming out of her mouth.

I entered the end of the Staff Quarters that has the senior staff's accommodations (the Staff Quarter's exterior doors are never locked. There are too many comings and goings and no need). I went downstairs and knocked loudly on Paul's bedroom door, and waited for him to answer.

"Yes?"

"It's Ron, Paul. We've got a non-urgent situation. Get dressed..." I was intending to say, "and get your gun. I'll wait," but he opened the door, his body language indicating he wanted me to keep talking. I summarized, "Our property is being surveilled by a couple of guys in a panel van with high-tech equipment inside parked in a good position a couple of streets away from our front gate. In that little street between Goldfinch and Swallow Drives, whatever it's called." (It's a new, short street, and the signpost isn't visible from the street we drive to town on). "We think they're FBI but that's not definite. We've just talked to the lawyer partner we use in DC and his advice is to find out shortly. The idea is to take some of your guys and get some cops, creep near the van, then trick them into opening the door so we can grab the evidence of what they're doing and so the cops can see enough suspicious gear to have probable cause to get involved.

^-- "The four parents are up and waiting to have a planning session in the Adults' dining room because it has a Faraday cage. Our phones might be tapped and there might be aerial surveillance so we're trying to show as little reaction as possible. No phone calls, no lights going on, no large groups of your guys running around."

I didn't have to motivate him by mentioning that $216 billion was at stake. As Head of Security, Paul was VERY aware that the Government had kidnapped Mark Anderson and done heinous things to him, with his eventually dying while in their custody; and that the CIA had duped the Army into a military invasion of our Peoria Road home. I was very pleased to sense plenty of concern in his proximity reading.

He was nodding away and was now fully dressed and equipped, including his gun. He grabbed his robe from behind the door, putting it on over his clothes. He rolled up his trouser legs, took his shoes and socks off and carried them hidden inside his robe, then said, "Okay, let's go."

We walked in the tunnel again, talking about something entirely innocuous the whole way, in case of parabolic microphones.

Donna and the other girls were in the dining room when we arrived. Donna rushed over to give me a hug, clearly excited to know that I could squeeze her nipples from several hundred feet away, even when she was inside an incredibly strong panic room. Having her privacy invaded was apparently not one of her concerns. She couldn't say anything - and what's more important, she DIDN'T say anything - but she gave me the very clear impression that she'd be upset if I didn't keep remotely molesting her.

We - every member of the families plus Paul - shut ourselves in the Faraday cage and had ourselves a planning meeting. We did explain the $216 billion issue as that dictated the only tricky objective for the operation: to gather evidence to sustain our claim for that payment. Vanessa repeated the information I'd given her and from what she'd seen herself driving past twice, including roughly describing the inside of the van, that it had two vents on top for the camera lenses which meant there was a blind area low down and beside the van, and how bushes covered the approach all the way into that blind area on one side.

The main difficulty came from my fear that there might be aerial visual surveillance. That was purely the result of my paranoia as I had no evidence for it. It was what the angel most feared. For good reason, I thought, because it was exactly what the authorities should use to track the angel. Having to plan our operation so it was safe from aerial observation was a considerable pain in the ass, so Paul queried how sure we were of it, especially because our radar should pick it up.

I answered, "The radar came from the Government too, so I wouldn't bet on its showing Government planes if they didn't want it to."

Prof added, "We found out a few hours ago that Jonathon Winters has put Mark Anderson on the list of twenty four resurrection candidates." That was interrupted by the expected congratulations, then Prof continued, "Quite possibly the Government is trying to catch the angel, in which case aerial surveillance would be an obvious choice. We can't see how surveilling our front gate could possibly be relevant to spying on the angel, but there might be both types of surveillance going on. Regardless of the motivation for the gate team, we want them stopped and we want the $216 billion from it, if only to make the Government much less likely to stick its nose into our business again because we don't like what happens when it does that to us. To be safe, we have to allow for the possibility of aerial surveillance as well. As our radar can't pick up anything, maybe it's being done by satellite or one of those little drones that are becoming so popular."

When I'd been doing my recent military research, I had read up on UAVs (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, a.k.a. drones), but I hadn't mentioned them now because I didn't expect the Government to be using a UAV over our home. None of them were stealthy so our radar should pick one up if it was being used over us. Nor did I expect them to be used over the other resurrection candidates' homes, as Wikipedia gave the production numbers for each of the various UAVs and the numbers were low. Most of the UAVs would presumably be in Iraq and Afghanistan, making twenty four domestic aerial surveillance operations even less likely. I wasn't going to disagree with Prof though, because I was perfectly happy to be as paranoid as possible. Planning went ahead assuming we were being observed from the air.

Chronologically, the first problem was how to get half a dozen armed security guys into a vehicle and to drive them out the gate without alerting the baddies. It would've been easy if there'd been a tunnel from the underground bedrooms of the Staff Quarters into the underground part of our garage tunnel, because then they could've made their way to Vanessa's SUV in secret, hidden in it, and Vanessa could've driven them out. As fond of tunnels as we are, we hadn't thought to have that one built. A pity, because it would've been quite easy for the Army to do as part of the initial construction, and free for us, but no one had thought of it.

For aesthetic reasons, there were no garages around the Staff Quarters. All their cars were parked inside our garage tunnel, in a 'room' near the tunnel's entrance, so it wasn't possible for six guards to get into a car without being observed by our suspected aerial observer. [We got a double garage built a few weeks later at the end of the Senior Staff's Quarters, with a connecting door into their house. A couple of them kept their cars parked in it, making them usable for something like this morning's operation.]

The same figment of my paranoid imagination stopped the guards from simply climbing over a wall out of sight of the baddies' van and walking to it.

I came up with a plan that involved tits. I'd been thinking about Donna's tits and the idea popped into my mind. Funny how things like that happen. I explained it and the girls loved the idea, even though the parents told them they'd be kept away from the action around the van. Paul liked it and confidently predicted his guys would like it too. The girls rushed off, in a panic about what clothes to wear. Especially Donna, because Mom hadn't let her buy any scandalously sexy tops. I had a feeling that deficiency was going to change soon, with or without Mom's consent. Ava offered to lend one of hers to Donna, earning Donna's undying gratitude. Donna was growing up. Already she considered that getting the right clothes deserved "undying gratitude". Donna's breasts are larger than Ava's, so Ava's top might not contain them properly, for which I was prepared to give Ava some serious gratitude. Maybe not "undying", but at least "vigorous".

Paul had no hesitation in suggesting a simple way of getting the two guys to open the van doors. I was disappointed that I didn't get to try one of the tricks that I (or you?) had thought up.

All my families' males - Prof, Dad and I - were excited about the operation. We hadn't planned this in advance, but I realized that I wanted to be in on it so I could make sure it went well (six two-letter words in a row! It could even be seven if I referred to myself as "we". I wonder what the record is?). I could all but guarantee that it would be a perfectly safe operation. For example, if the guys in the van had hidden guns, one of them would go off accidentally, shooting one of them somewhere non-fatal, and he'd fall onto the uninjured guy. The shot would give the cops probable cause, and the baddies would be distracted long enough for it to be all over by the time the uninjured one got out from under his partner.

I responded to Dad's show of excitement by suggesting that he and I should join the operation. Mom and Paul both disagreed, but I used two NP-taps on Dad's head at the right time to encourage him further, and then a small NP-pinch on Mom's lips to stop her objecting. There are some advantages being the boss, because Dad was able to insist to Paul that we'd be involved. Prof joined in too, but only to offer support if it was needed.

Mom and Vanessa had no interest in being involved; they preferred to stay at home and worry. Women are boring sometimes. Fortunately for my Tit Plan, my girls weren't yet mature enough to be - what Mom would no doubt describe as - sensible. Prof's and Dad's enthusiasm proving that guys never get sensible.

When the discussion ended, Paul stood and said, "I'll go get my guys ready."

I'd been hoping to be with the security guys when they heard about the van so I might sense if there was any funny business. It was a bit rude to question the loyalty of Paul's staff in front of him, but after a very quick thought, I decided that I didn't mind being a bit rude to ensure we got paid $216 billion and the Government was given a great disincentive against surveilling us in the future.

At the risk of being thought rude, I said, "Because there's a shit load of money involved for the Andersons," (I talk a little rough to people outside the families, as a result of my bad upbringing in LA), "I want us to be careful. If it's the Feds they'll know there's two hundred billion at stake and they might've bribed one of your guys to signal if we learn about them. I want to sit at the back of the room when you tell only the guys who'll be part of the operation, and I want to stay with them after you tell them, so I can keep my eyes on them."

Dad said, "That's a good idea, Ron. Thanks. Is that okay with you, Paul?"

"It's fine. I'll wait to go down with you."

"You'd better come to the Kids' House with me then. I don't know how long I'll be because Julia will have lain out half a dozen outfits for me to try on so I'll look my best for this non-existent party. If you're waiting for me I'll have an excuse to pick the first outfit."

Prof said, "Steven and I will wait for you in the garage."

Paul and I took the tunnel down to the Kids' House. He waited in the living room because my bedroom was doubtless full of girls in various stages of undress, panicking over how to achieve exactly the right looks.

When I entered the bedroom, the situation was just as I'd expected. And then they all yelled at me to leave - which wasn't what I expected at all.

I decided to be brave, staying to ask, "Why?"

Julia explained, "Donna wants to look her best for you, so we don't want you to see her until she's ready."

That explained why Donna was hiding behind Ava and Carol. What it didn't explain, was WHAT FUCKING PLANET THE GIRLS THOUGHT THEY WERE ON! I'd suffered through the girls (not Donna, but the others) pulling this crap many times before. They fart around for hours, and then usually decide to wear the first outfit they'd tried on anyway. I couldn't tell you the number of times I have missed the first part of a movie or play, or even kept other people waiting for us, all because of this crap. It's one of the worst aspects of living with multiple girls, because as soon as one girl gets into "Or Maybe I Should Wear Something Else"-mode, the others encourage her then join in themselves. And as soon as one girl changes her mind - hardly an unusual event - or even just wonders out loud about changing her mind, then all the other girls have to discuss what they would change their dresses to in that event, to ensure they still match each other in the many ways they have to get very carefully balanced (not just color - don't be such a male! - but in well over a dozen other respects too, such as all being dressed at similar quality levels). It's pissed me off on multiple occasions, and this was the worst possible time for them to start doing it again.

I had considerable pleasure in expressing my reaction, "You have GOT TO BE FUCKING JOKING! You're FUCKING AROUND wasting time and delaying a TWO HUNDRED BILLION DOLLAR operation so you can play FUCKING DRESS-UP. ARE YOU INSANE!"

#4: <While I agree with every word you've said, I suggest we throw in a compliment to Donna because she's at a fragile age and in need of reassurance, and then we should leave. We can go with Paul so he can start briefing the team until the girls arrive.>

I continued, "Donna's beautiful and she knows I think she's beautiful. I couldn't care less what clothes she wears or doesn't wear; she's still beautiful regardless. What I DO care about, is your incredibly stupid timing over this insanity. Paul's in the living room. He and I will go down to the Staff Quarters now and start briefing the team we'll take. We'll load up the cars and pretend to be a bunch of guys going to a party. If you pull your heads out of the clouds quickly enough to get ready to do your JOB - that's JOB, get it! - then you can join us, otherwise you can stay in whatever version of reality you're in where playing dress-up is more important than hundreds of billions of dollars."

I'd only just got inside the door before they'd yelled at me to leave, so it was very easy for me to turn around and leave now. I slammed the door behind me, cutting off their various noises: Carol's and Ava's apologies, Julia's insisting, "We wouldn't have taken long," and Donna's starting to cry.

I used NP to hold the door shut so the girls couldn't come chasing after me. They'd already considerably exceeded my tolerance limit, not that I had much tolerance for that crap.

I marched to the living room, said to Paul, "They're FUCKING AROUND playing dress-up like little children with all the time in the world. I blew my stack at them and told them we'll start briefing your guys. If they don't join us in time, we'll just pretend to be a bunch of guys going to a party. They probably will though. They're good girls once their heads are pulled out of their asses."

#18: <Their heads are in the clouds AND in their asses. Those have got to be some MIGHTY big asses to have a climate.>

It was much quicker to head to the Staff Quarters on an exterior path rather than take the elevator down to the parking lot and walk both legs of the "T". Being seen walking casually out of the Kids' House should convey a good impression to any watchers too.

The girls had stopped trying to open the door by the time Paul and I had left the house, and I doubted they'd come running outside after me when they were only semi-dressed, so I canceled those NP-points. I wanted to keep a sight blob on the girls to see if they calmed down all right, but I had to cancel that too as I needed to have a radio blob on overwatch. I was with Paul so I had to keep my eyes open, allowing only one other sight source. I really wished I could run more sight sources!

Paul said conversationally, "I'll have to tell Larry we're going to a party so he can cover for us while we're away."

Larry was the security shift supervisor who was on duty now. (There were four shift supervisors for the three shifts, none of which were Paul as he didn't fulfill that role for any shift. He rotated his time around all the shifts and was sometimes off-site.) I assumed Paul meant that he should warn the staff we were leaving behind that something was happening, and that they should go to "Code Yellow". We don't actually have that term in our Security Procedures Manual, but you know what I mean: That the current shift will become more careful and the off-shift guys will all be woken up if necessary, dressed and armed. There were plenty of ways our normal security could be heightened without it showing.

I said, "I doubt he'll need to be told that after the noise your guys will make when they're getting ready to leave, especially after the girls arrive, but tell him if you like." Larry would probably be invited to sit in on the briefing so he'll know enough to make good decisions later if this escalates. Like it had with Paul, my proximity sense should provide me with a pretty clear indication if there's a problem with anyone who hears about the van, so I wasn't worried about leaving Larry behind with the news, although I would ask Paul to tell him not to tell the other staff after we leave.

Paul and I entered the front door to the Senior Staff Quarters and he went to his room to quickly put his party clothes on and reposition where he was carrying his gun. We went through the connecting door into the Not-Senior Staff Quarters. A couple of the guys he wanted were in the living room (Paul was going to use off-shift guys to avoid depleting the on-duty staff in case there was any subsequent trouble). Paul called their names, and asked where four other guys he wanted were. Three were in the building but one was out with a girl, so a substitute was named. Paul specified the bedroom of one of the guys in the living room as the place for the briefing, sending some of the other guys in the room to round up the other four and send them to that room. He also sent a guy to invite Larry to the briefing, telling the guy, "Walk casually. Tell him some of us are going to a party and I need to talk with him about it in Wayne's room. Make sure he doesn't use his radio and strolls back casually with you. Okay?"

None of which attracted as much curiosity from the other guys as you might expect, as Paul frequently got the guards to do all sorts of weird things. Our security doesn't have a rent-a-cop, time-killing attitude. They knew that Mark and Prof had been kidnapped from an earlier home and had nearly died from the experience; that Mark had been taken by the DHS and did subsequently die; and that Delta Force and the Rangers had tried to attack our previous home but had fucked it up, no thanks to the useless hired security force. The two families were a great deal richer now so an even more attractive target. Our guys trained as if another attack was only a matter of time. Even if the remaining guards weren't put on "Condition Yellow", they'd still be extra vigilant if only because Paul might be taking the six guys away so they could try to sneak back in.

When Larry and the six guys for the mission (two very experienced guys, two of average experience, and two of the younger guys), had gathered, the briefing started. It went very quickly, taking less time to explain than it'd taken me to explain it upstairs. They had a great deal of their own terminology, and a single phrase often contained many sentences' worth of information (as telling Larry, "Go to Condition Yellow" would have, if we'd had one. Our Conditions were actually multi-dimensional, giving the ability to convey a richer variety of responses).

Then there was also quite a detailed explanation of where all of the family members would be during this and what was to be done with them under various circumstances. Our guards' primary job is to guard us, so having us part of the operation rather than hiding in a panic room complicated their job, requiring about as much discussion as the rest of the operation.

Paul gave a bit of a motivation talk at the end, "This is our first real mission, so stay alert, THINK..." We'd had plenty of people try to talk their way in the gate for various reasons, and we'd even had a few people climb the wall, but that's as much as had happened before. Even the wall-climbers were simple jobs. All were easily detected (we have a very clever wall), and mostly complete morons who hadn't understood that they were committing a real crime they'd be arrested for.

All of our security team had emotions that looked good in proximity. I'd spent enough time with these guys that I had a semi-reasonable handle on how their emotions showed in proximity, so I was happy enough.

Paul, Larry and I went back upstairs, leaving the six guys to get changed into their party clothes and gather their personal gear: guns, vests, radios, and assorted other items. Upstairs, Larry gave his explanation and orders to the guys who were up there, and they got on with them, mostly spreading out to tell the others and getting dressed and equipped.

The first two of the away-team who arrived back upstairs were sent to get the two SUVs we'd use, one of which would have Dad and Prof hidden in the back. All our cars are parked with the keys left in them. We sometimes forget to leave the keys in our personal cars, as taking keys out of the ignition is so much of a habit, but the more communal vehicles are left ready to go for anyone who wants to use them.

The rest of the team set about gathering the mission-specific equipment, carrying it outside and piling it on the side of the driveway. It looked like plenty of booze. The house contained twenty four mostly young guys, so even though a lid was kept on too much drinking, it wasn't difficult to put together a few cartons of booze. The cartons were half occupied with bottles so they rattled and clunked, even though they were also half full of our gear, including a vest for me. Also two small gas-fueled camping stoves and several plastic containers.

While that gear was being piled up outside by the clearly enthusiastic party-goers, the girls drove up in my SC430, parking it where I'd told them to: just inside the gate where the surveillers would see it and us. All the tops were down, the car's and the girls'. Ava was driving (she'd be getting out shortly, but she likes driving my car). Julia was in the front passenger's seat. Carol and Donna weren't really in the backseats, because they'd raised themselves so they were sitting where the headrests would be. Another thing they weren't really doing was wearing anything much, something it didn't take our ever-vigilant, party-going guards long to notice. They loudly whistled their appreciation, catcalled, and otherwise carried out their orders. Paul seemed to have chosen guards who were exceptionally good at acting lecherous when ordered to.

Some of the home-team guards came out to see the girls, adding their contributions to the degenerate atmosphere as Ava and Julia got out of the car. The home-team guys had been told that some of them should come out to see the partygoers off, but as far as I could tell, they were only interested in seeing the girls. They added to the whistles and catcalls even though that hadn't been part of their instructions. I guess our security staff have been trained to use their own initiative.

I doubted the Fibbies thought we were trying to sneak out of the property, although some of our guards were starting to look like they had pistols hidden in their pants.

The SUVs pulled up behind my car and the party-goers started loading the booze into them. Julia and Ava came over to me, Julia looking particularly pathetic. Before she could open her mouth, I quietly said, "Not now. We've got other things to do." I'd really wanted to say, "We've got MORE IMPORTANT things to do," but if the baddies had audio focused on the gate area, that wouldn't be a good thing for them to hear.

We headed out a minute later, me driving while Ava had swapped into one of the SUVs. Carol and Donna sliding down to sit properly. The home-team yelled "Lucky bastards" at the departing away-team.

We headed to OSU first, so Prof could call the police chief. Dad had acted a little bit too lowbrow on TV, so Prof was the better caller. OSU was also the most sensible party destination, especially at 4:15am on Friday morning, and it allowed us to check for a tail. I knew there wasn't one, but Paul didn't. At an appropriate point, hidden under trees, the middle SUV dropped a guy off quickly, so he could see if anyone followed us. We'd pick him up on the way back.

Prof had the Police Chief's home phone number from when a deputation of emergency services people had come to our house to thank us for all the money we'd sent their departments' ways. They'd all passed over their cards, telling us not to hesitate to call if we needed anything. It was 4:15am, we needed something, and we didn't hesitate. Paul certainly had the Chief's numbers too, and probably the numbers of every cop in Corvallis.

Prof identified himself, apologized for waking the Chief, then told him, "Our security staff has identified a surveillance van with two guys in it watching our gate from a good position, possibly to swoop on the girls as they go to school. Six of our guards are about to have a word with the occupants and we would like to have a police presence with us please. If it's not too much trouble, you and one or two others. But PLEASE no radio chatter. They have a high-tech operation and they're certain to be monitoring your frequencies."

The Chief had some questions, but they boiled down to Prof repeating, "We KNOW what's inside that van. We've got some high-tech equipment of our own. They have cameras focused on our gate and the street leading up to and through it. Whoever they are, we are their focus. In about ten minutes - before it gets light - we're going to open that van up and all your questions will be answered."

"Yes, there are only two men in it." Prof looked at me for confirmation. I kept a perfectly bland face because of our guards. Prof took my silence as agreement that there'd been two the last time I'd looked, about five minutes ago.

There was no way the Chief was going to refuse to come. The only issue was whether he'd refuse to cooperate. He asked, "Is Paul Olsen with you?"

"Yes. He and six of his men are doing this."

The Chief knew the caliber of our security team as there'd been a great deal of interaction between the local cops and our guys. Maybe not the youngest two, but the other four guys on the team were all more impressive than any of Corvallis's cops, and Paul left them in the shade. The two youngsters were fit and strong, but that's not the type of "impressive" I'm talking about. If Paul was leading this operation, then such was Paul's reputation that the Chief was comfortable with whatever we wanted. When you're billionaires and your lives are truly under threat, you hire the BEST Head of Security that money can buy and you let him hire a damned good team.