Chapter 541: Tight Security

At least you are smart enough to reverse your aggressive actions.

They did use their radios to report that there was a problem at this gate.

I didn’t need to hear the reply when whoever was on the radio heard a guy zip-cuffed four guards to the fence and had three guard dogs protecting him, even their handlers. The dogs wouldn’t respond to commands.

It wasn’t long before I had four more guard dogs between the security guards and me.

I was rubbing one of the dog’s bellies when multiple armored vehicles arrived in a cloud of dust. Each had a SAW mounted on top with a gunner and aiming it at me.

I need to make a point.

I picked up two rocks beside me and quickly threw them at the machine guns. I jammed both barrels.

“I wouldn’t try to fire those unless you want to have them blow up in your face,” I told the gunners.

Another vehicle skidded to a stop just behind the armored vehicles.

“What in the fuck is going on here,” someone enough in charge to make the dogs stand up in front of me and take an aggressive stance.

One of the guys from the gate told the guy that showed up, “Those four drew down on an unarmed civilian who warned them to stand down or they would find themselves zip-cuffed to the fence. They didn’t, and now they are. He told them he was the boss, had the required clearance, and asked them to call it in.”

“They mustn’t have paid any attention in the briefings, or they slept through them,” the other said. “It is never a good idea to draw down on a guy that runs laps around special forces troops with a minigun, a fifty-cal, wearing a weight vest, and ammo for both weapons. At least he waited to call the dogs until after he zip-cuffed them to the fence. All that he hurt is their pride.”

“It seems somebody forgot to put my name on the list,” I joked.

The man didn’t seem impressed.

“Just who exactly are you, and what is your business here?” the man asked.

“I am David Paul Jones, the owner of this property. My business here is to check on the progress of the vertical hole boring that will permit me to drill horizontally to construct a geothermal power plant. I would tell you more, but then someone would kill you because you don’t have the clearance to know anything more,” I explained. “Oh, yeah. The contractor boring the vertical holes doesn’t hire private security to guard their project sites. That tells me I’m paying for it, and thus I am your boss. Please call your head office to confirm the same while I play fetch with the dogs.”

I don’t know how I knew I had tennis balls in the truck, but I found a dozen in a box behind the driver’s seat. The dogs had a blast going to chase after them. I threw seven as fast as I could get them in my hand. When a dog returned, I threw its ball off in a different direction from the other dogs. Once the headman validated that I was the boss, I called the dogs back.

Humbled, he said, “Mr. Jones, no one informed me that you were only nineteen. Your sizeable wealth and high-level security clearance are not those possessed by nineteen-year-olds. How can I assist you today?” adding your calm demeanor at being denied access sent up a red flag for the team guarding the gate.

“I want to go check out the progress. I don’t need an escort. I can find my way around,” I told him.

I sent the three dogs back to their handlers. I dropped the tailgate on the truck and told the other four dogs to hop into the bed. They jumped up happily. Once I closed the tailgate, we were off to the first of the vertical boreholes. I made sure that the place where I stopped the truck had shade and water for the dogs. They didn’t seem to mind having a cool place to take a nap.

I got my hardhat and safety vest from the truck because it was a construction site. I found a pair of work boots in the back, so I put them on.

Someone is messing with me. They could have told me I had a badge in my boots that would have made the whole gate issue a non-issue.

With the badge around my neck, no one at this security gate questioned who I was, and they were government security contractors.

I walked into this site’s office, and a woman in her late fifties greeted me, “Mr. Jones, it is a pleasure to meet you in person. Few in this world can handle delicate matters discretely. I wouldn’t have expected that a nineteen-year-old would have learned that skill so soon in life. Given your sufficient resources, you didn’t need to permit us to clean up my predecessors’ mess. We both know how this could have gotten messy and raised a lot of public displeasure at something that wasn’t a problem during the original project. While you can go to each site and view the progress, we have the process displayed on monitors on the wall. We’ve plotted your desired horizontal drilling depths and routes on there as well.”

When we got to the monitors, she showed me how they averaged five meters per eight-hour shift because the drills removed the muck simultaneously as it drilled. The collar was getting printing in place with fiber-reinforced shotcrete versus concrete. They applied a polymer liner to the inside of the form that made up the outside of the collar wall. Using computer-controlled shotcrete nozzles, they were able to spray exact amounts with high precision. Along the edge of the printing rig, they had squeegees arranged at an angle to ensure a uniform inside diameter of the shaft. Other than having to add rebar as the shaft lowered, the majority of the process was automated. Their most significant slowdowns were when they needed to replace the cutting surfaces.

That shouldn’t be all that often, given the man-in-the-machine re-designed them and sells them for fifty percent more, but they last twice as long as the originals.

“Our estimates indicate that we will be deeper than the original estimation to begin your horizontal shafts. The new depth will increase your water temperatures to around three hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Some eggheads have already re-engineered the shotcrete mixture to account for the increased heat. Your tunnel boring machines will spray shotcrete as it moves forward to line the tunnels. Geological surveys from our original vertical shaft project and those we conducted last month indicate that your tunnels will bore through only bedrock and not hit any groundwater issues. You will spend more powering these beasts than the cutter disk replacements.”

We talked for a few hours about what I expected the government to do before leaving what remained to deal with myself.

I know where each of these water tunnels is going. Couldn’t I use the place in my head to pre-fracture and break up the bedrock to let the tunneling machines move faster? Isn’t having the hole already drilled the reason why the vertical shaft machines are moving so quickly?

I had the guard dogs go back to wherever they should be and drove around the property to find a place to do some “digging.”

With the place in my head linked to my implant, I looked at what the deeper tunnels would bore through. Around half of the tunnel’s distance would be through bedrock. I saw multiple precious metals, gemstones, and various highly sought-after rare isotopes of elements.

Knowing what was there, I used the supercomputer in my basement to run through various ways to separate the worthless materials from that of value.

How many hundreds of pounds of gold is mixed in with the materials above the bedrock down at that depth? What about palladium and rhodium?

As I thought through things, my implant informed me that machines could use x-rays to determine what was in a sample of crushed rock and soil. There were no large-scale ones on the market, but the man-in-the-machine had some ideas. He has experimented with a smaller-scale setup that might be something we could scale up. The tailings from the tunneling and muck from the vertical shaft could make it worthwhile to spot scan material samples. While I could see them all using the place in my head and implant-enhanced data, that would bring up too many questions I didn’t want to answer.

It must be after a shift change, and no one sent the email. At least I found a spot with many rocks and dirt clods.

Military-style Humvees arrived in mass, and all had mounted high fire rate machine guns. Armed private contracted soldiers rushed out with their weapons drawn and aimed at me.

“Place your hands behind your head and slowly move backward toward me. You are trespassing in a restricted area. Deadly force is authorized,” a woman said over a bullhorn.

Can’t you see the badge I have around my neck?

I wanted to do this right, so I told them, “My name is David Jones. I am not trespassing because I own the property and am your boss. I suggest you call it in before this gets nasty. I don’t particularly like having guns pointed at me. I am unarmed.”

I reached to the collar of my shirt, and as I slowly started to tug it up, I felt myself slide off into a place that felt like I was moving quickly, but time around me slowed down. I knew I hadn’t created a time bubble, so my next best guess is that my brain and implant worked together to speed my thinking up to my reflexive movements.

The place in my head must have sensed the energy change as the person moved their finger inside the trigger guard to pull the trigger.

I knew that they all wore bulletproof vests that were significantly better than the military and police used. They could withstand a shot from the rifles they had pointed at me.

I dropped, rolled, and took the rifle from the one that shot at me before they even began to process that I had moved from where they aimed. I hit that soldier in the center of the vest as hard as the bullets were about to hit all the other soldiers.

I can’t believe how slowly this gun cycles the action.

I double-tapped each soldier’s body armor right in front of their breastbone. Not having the best angle on the mounted gunners, I moved off to where I saw some rocks. I hit each in their helmets just short of causing a concussion. I took a few steps and two jumps to be on the roof of the Humvee. I only needed a few seconds to pull the belt of bullets out of the machine gun. I did that for the other three before dropping out the magazines and clearing the rounds in the chambers for the guns the soldiers dropped when I shot them. With that threat neutralized, I went back to zip-cuff all the soldiers, except for two drivers of the Humvees.

The two drivers were battle-hardened twenty-something women. They knew enough about what they saw to remove their weapons and vests before stepping out of the Humvees. In a few quick but well-telegraphed movements, they had removed their camo shirts and dropped their pants to be around their ankles. They were standing in panties, a black t-shirt, and sports bras. Keeping their eyes on me, they slowly pushed their panties to drop around their feet as they began to pull off their shirts and bras.

“STOP!” I told them to get their immediate compliance, “Pull your panties and pants up already. I know why you did it. I’m not about to rape you. I saw the scars when you start pulling up your shirts, between your legs, and those your pubic hairs will never be able to hide. I would hazard a guess that is why you are the youngest two here. If I were to do the legwork, I’d find you hunted down all those who had raped you and brutally expressed your displeasure. Both of you also have two multiple ceramic, plastic-handled throwing knives in your sports bras that you were going for when I stopped you.”

“Why did you kill everyone?” one of them asked as she dropped to her knees, still naked from the waist down to her boot.

“None of them are dead because I don’t kill people. They all have bulletproof vests. I shot each in the precise location required to knock the wind out of them and used the bullet’s impact to force them backward. For some, I needed to hit their heads in a way that knocked them unconscious but didn’t give them a concussion. I didn’t have the same shots on the gunners, so I used rocks to do the same thing,” I explained. “People are working out this site still within lethal range of these bullets. If one of you missed me from twenty feet away, then the likelihood that someone may get hurt from a stray shot is highly probable. I’m not having that happen on my property. Now pull your panties and pants up, please?”

The other driver said, “Screw that! You’ve got seven inches of dick hanging down the leg of your shorts. I want some of that in my tight pussy. I don’t know her story, but my captors had no way of knowing I was into pain or liked being dry fucked. I was free to kill them anytime I wanted, but I loved them trying to break me by cutting and raping me. I only jumped into action when I saw them start cutting on tween girls and boys trying to get their parents or siblings to confess to something. One was about to rape one of the little girls, so I slipped out of the restraints and used his knife at the girl’s throat to cut off his dick. I took down all the torturers in that camp and bound their hands to their feet. I released the kids and walked out the door. A team was there preparing to go in to rescue some high-ranking person’s kid. They shit themselves when they saw the kids coming out covered in blood, shit, piss, and gore. I was the only one the kids would trust, so I loaded them into one of the troop carriers and followed the soldiers sent there for the rescue. Back at the nearest U.S. base, an officer ordered me to get the kids washed and dressed in the clothes provided. Those clothes turned out to be extra-long t-shirts and socks. It was enough to keep everything covered from the perverts that get off looking at little kids. When they tried to have doctors check out the kids, the medical staff found kids backed into corners holding whatever could get used as a weapon. I became their babysitter and held their hands as the doctors examined them.”

Reluctantly, she did pull up her pants and panties. I had to help the other woman as she was off somewhere in her mind.

The first woman called command while I picked the other woman up to carry over under one of the enormous shade trees near us. It was warm enough that I didn’t need to cover her up to protect her from shock, but I put her outer shirt back on her. I put an opened water bottle in her hands, and she mechanically drank from it.

A large, muscular man arrived and went around using his boot to push around any soldiers on the ground still out cold. When they all managed to shake off the cobwebs, he tore them into them but didn’t unbind them. He let one of those who arrived with him find out what happened. The biggest question they got asked was how a nineteen-year-old, unarmed civilian managed to shoot all of those on the ground and knock out those in the gunner’s seats without any of them having time to react.

“Oh. That,” I said, walking over to the group. “I shot them to save their lives. If I hadn’t, they would all be dead.”

All those on the ground had green dots on their foreheads and red ones right over their hearts to reinforce my point.

I explained, “Somebody is paying snipers to keep my family and friends protected. I’ve no idea who hired them, but they are there keeping watch. If you don’t believe me, look in the Humvee behind where the trigger-happy soldier stood. Should I have not intervened, there would be blood, heart, and brain matter all over that Humvee.”

The one who shot at me turned around, saw the seven holes, and passed out.

“Thank you for not allowing my team to be killed or making them wish you had allowed them for a quick death,” the man said.

He said to those still bound on the ground, “We don’t send out urgent emails for you to choose to ignore. Mr. Jones is the owner of the property and pays your wages. As you have found out, he is a non-lethal army of one. It took him longer to bind you than drop you and unload your weapons. As you were already unconscious, you didn’t see him knock out the gunners with rocks to the helmet. You all must get yourselvs loose and return to camp to await further instructions.”

He walked over to the woman under the tree and asked, “Are you ok, Sam?”

She slowly shook her head no before looking back down at the ground.

Her response to all of his questions was no, so he told her to see him when she returned to camp.

I walked with him a ways away from the women, and he told me, “My daughter Sam was one of the girls freed by Terri and one that got raped in the ass, repeatedly, as the captures tried to persuade me to give them intel that they wanted. That didn’t stop them from trying to force their dicks in her pussy or mouth. She bit any that got close, and her pussy was too small. While they had her, her captors killed the other kids in front of her. She was there for months. The bloodlust hadn’t even left her, but everyone believed they had refocused it as she trained to go in to kill bastards like those who held her and rescue the captives. Terri has been there for Sam since we brought Sam home. Terri says that you are what Sam needs to work through her issues, so please do what you can for her.”

“Regarding Terri, can you wait until after everyone else leaves, take her over near Sam, and let her ride your dick until you can’t get hard? She needs to get laid. They had to keep her away from the men because she damn near killed every man in the barracks trying to get her itch scratched after returning home. The military discharged her with an honorable discharge. She gets full disability benefits for medical reasons, at least on paper. They don’t want her back in the field because she slips off somewhere in her mind and goes off the reservation. Multiple times after she rescued Sam, they found the town they had deployed to clear was already empty. The targets of interest get found bound, gagged, beaten to hell, cut up, and often shot with a non-life-threatening gunshot wound. All the others were dead. Women, men, and children, not considered enemies, were gone without anyone figuring out how they left without being observed. They would find Terri asleep in one of the buildings, covered in blood and with booby traps that only that team knew how to find and disarm safely. Since her discharge, she hasn’t had any interest in sex. That was seven years ago. Sam was twelve back then. She told me that she wanted you as soon as they drove up,” he explained.