Read Online Callsign: King II- Underworld by Jeremy Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jeremy Robinson
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given the unit a great deal more freedom, but it also had its drawbacks. Where once, he might have been able to simply give the commanding officer in the field General Keasling’s phone number, and then at his own discretion, co-opt whatever resources he needed, now he would have to be a little more creative.
The three captives spent the next half hour enduring a torturous ride, where every bump pitched them into the air and brought them down again painfully on the metal deck or, as was more often the case, on each other. Eventually, the ride smoothed out a little, signaling that they had turned onto a somewhat improved road, and the Humvee picked up speed until reaching its destination only a few minutes later. Bruised and battered, they emerged from the vehicle under the harsh glow of overhead Klieg lights, powered by portable generators, in front of a capacious olive drab GP medium tent. King noted other tents, a motor pool with several different Humvee variants and even a large satellite dish. He also glimpsed a triple thickness of concertina wire encircling the entire compound, before he was ushered into the tent.
They were kept at gunpoint in a corner of the brightly lit tent for several minutes before being confronted by an Army lieutenant colonel whose nametape said: “Magnuson.” King noted the matching unit patches on either arm—the screaming eagle of the 101st Airborne Division—and the air assault jump wings and combat infantry badge on his chest.
Magnuson didn’t bother to introduce himself, but instead made a show of studying their respective driver’s licenses. King’s license identified him as Scott Nicholson, one of the many thoroughly developed aliases that he now used exclusively, in lieu of his given name.
“You’re quite a cosmopolitan bunch,” Magnuson observed. “A local, a New Englander, and a world traveler…are you actually a US citizen, Mr. Pierce?”
Pierce was unfazed. “It’s Dr. Pierce, actually.”
King jumped in quickly. “We’re all citizens, Colonel,” he said in a confident voice. “We’ve got a right to move freely about the country, but I’m not sure the same is true for US military forces. I think you owe us all an explanation.”
Magnuson gave a short, humorless chuckle. “So we’re going to play games then? You were caught trying to sneak into a designated isolation area.”
“Really? I didn’t see any signs.”
“Cute.” Magnuson checked his watch, and King noted that his brow furrowed, as if he had just realized he was late for an appointment. “So what’s your story? Let me guess: you’re journalists, right? Here to discover the ‘real story’? Guess what? There is no real story. You put yourselves and my men in unnecessary danger by trying to sneak into the exclusion zone. Fortunately for you, no one is interested in prosecuting you for trespassing, so you’re all going to be loaded on that Humvee, and evacuated back to Phoenix. Immediately.”
Nina seemed mostly relieved by the news, but something about Magnuson’s sense of urgency prompted King to stall for time. “Colonel, this is completely unacceptable. You seized our equipment…that’s several hundred dollars worth of stuff. And my rental car is back at the trailhead. How am I supposed to retrieve it? You can’t just swoop down and pick us up like this is some kind of conspiracy movie. We’ve got rights, and you’re trampling all over them.”
Magnuson checked his watch again, then answered impatiently. “You’ll be able to sort all that out with the public affairs officer once you get to Phoenix, but right now, you need to get in that Humvee.”
“I’m not going anywhere tied up like a common criminal,” King pressed. He caught Pierce trying to hide a smile, while Nina looked completely shocked by his behavior. The lieutenant colonel frowned, and then fidgeted nervously with his watch. King could tell that the officer wasn’t used to anyone challenging him, and
The three captives spent the next half hour enduring a torturous ride, where every bump pitched them into the air and brought them down again painfully on the metal deck or, as was more often the case, on each other. Eventually, the ride smoothed out a little, signaling that they had turned onto a somewhat improved road, and the Humvee picked up speed until reaching its destination only a few minutes later. Bruised and battered, they emerged from the vehicle under the harsh glow of overhead Klieg lights, powered by portable generators, in front of a capacious olive drab GP medium tent. King noted other tents, a motor pool with several different Humvee variants and even a large satellite dish. He also glimpsed a triple thickness of concertina wire encircling the entire compound, before he was ushered into the tent.
They were kept at gunpoint in a corner of the brightly lit tent for several minutes before being confronted by an Army lieutenant colonel whose nametape said: “Magnuson.” King noted the matching unit patches on either arm—the screaming eagle of the 101st Airborne Division—and the air assault jump wings and combat infantry badge on his chest.
Magnuson didn’t bother to introduce himself, but instead made a show of studying their respective driver’s licenses. King’s license identified him as Scott Nicholson, one of the many thoroughly developed aliases that he now used exclusively, in lieu of his given name.
“You’re quite a cosmopolitan bunch,” Magnuson observed. “A local, a New Englander, and a world traveler…are you actually a US citizen, Mr. Pierce?”
Pierce was unfazed. “It’s Dr. Pierce, actually.”
King jumped in quickly. “We’re all citizens, Colonel,” he said in a confident voice. “We’ve got a right to move freely about the country, but I’m not sure the same is true for US military forces. I think you owe us all an explanation.”
Magnuson gave a short, humorless chuckle. “So we’re going to play games then? You were caught trying to sneak into a designated isolation area.”
“Really? I didn’t see any signs.”
“Cute.” Magnuson checked his watch, and King noted that his brow furrowed, as if he had just realized he was late for an appointment. “So what’s your story? Let me guess: you’re journalists, right? Here to discover the ‘real story’? Guess what? There is no real story. You put yourselves and my men in unnecessary danger by trying to sneak into the exclusion zone. Fortunately for you, no one is interested in prosecuting you for trespassing, so you’re all going to be loaded on that Humvee, and evacuated back to Phoenix. Immediately.”
Nina seemed mostly relieved by the news, but something about Magnuson’s sense of urgency prompted King to stall for time. “Colonel, this is completely unacceptable. You seized our equipment…that’s several hundred dollars worth of stuff. And my rental car is back at the trailhead. How am I supposed to retrieve it? You can’t just swoop down and pick us up like this is some kind of conspiracy movie. We’ve got rights, and you’re trampling all over them.”
Magnuson checked his watch again, then answered impatiently. “You’ll be able to sort all that out with the public affairs officer once you get to Phoenix, but right now, you need to get in that Humvee.”
“I’m not going anywhere tied up like a common criminal,” King pressed. He caught Pierce trying to hide a smile, while Nina looked completely shocked by his behavior. The lieutenant colonel frowned, and then fidgeted nervously with his watch. King could tell that the officer wasn’t used to anyone challenging him, and
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