A Tan Beret Goes to Nellis

[Wolfman]

We’ll have to wait until Poohbah weighs in on this.

[Jotun]

We’ll have to wait until Poohbah weighs in on this.

In any case, it's not that important. Idle chitchat isn't necessarily bad

[Wolfman]

That’s very true!

[Poohbah]

Sophie Henrix was commissioned a 1st Lieutenant in the Air Force Reserve in March of 1990. CW2 Adam Lodge resigned his commission effective 1 August 1990 and went on terminal leave in April 1990.

Adam Miguel Lodge and Sophia Marie Henrix were married in April of 1990 in Stateline, Nevada, and subsequently moved to Palo Alto, CA. Sophie went to work for Netscape, a high tech startup in Palo Alto, while pursuing a Master's degree in Software Engineering at Stanford University. Sophie left Netscape in June of 1992 in the wake of an unfortunate incident involving a venture capital bro not understanding the meaning of the word, "no." She then founded Athenasoft, a cyber security firm, which quickly became one of the dominant players in information security and assurance. In 2007, she sold Athenasoft to Firebird Technologies for $12 billion, who have proceeded to lose market share.

Sophie and Adam Lodge have six children, five grandchildren, two more on the way, and Sophie is subtly hinting to her last pair of twins, "So when are you two idiots going to find husbands and start having kids?"

[Wolfman]

Good to know that I had the right timeframe…

[jemhouston]

Sophie Henrix was commissioned a 1st Lieutenant in the Air Force Reserve in March of 1990. CW2 Adam Lodge resigned his commission effective 1 August 1990 and went on terminal leave in April 1990.

Adam Miguel Lodge and Sophia Marie Henrix were married in April of 1990 in Stateline, Nevada, and subsequently moved to Palo Alto, CA. Sophie went to work for Netscape, a high tech startup in Palo Alto, while pursuing a Master's degree in Software Engineering at Stanford University. Sophie left Netscape in June of 1992 in the wake of an unfortunate incident involving a venture capital bro not understanding the meaning of the word, "no." She then founded Athenasoft, a cyber security firm, which quickly became one of the dominant players in information security and assurance. In 2007, she sold Athenasoft to Firebird Technologies for $12 billion, who have proceeded to lose market share.

Sophie and Adam Lodge have six children, five grandchildren, two more on the way, and Sophie is subtly hinting to her last pair of twins, "So when are you two idiots going to find husbands and start having kids?"

Did the twins answer, "We're looking for someone in Dad's class and that pool is small."

[Poohbah]

20 December 1987
Main Gate
Nellis Air Force Base

Sophie dismounted the Humvee and saw Caitlin waving frantically. Next to her was a fortyish man in a worn sport coat, dress shirt, and slacks. She jogged over.

"What's up?"

"Chief, this is Sergeant Jim Brass, Las Vegas Metro PD Homicide. Jim, Chief Warrant Officer Sophie Henrix, on loan from Air Force Special Operations Command."

Brass said, "My guy disappeared last night. I had someone keeping an eye on his place after talking to Caitlin. His relief found him in his car with his throat cut. And he checked out the truck, he had a forged surveillance order."

Sophie considered this, then asked, "Capabilities and limitations?"

"He's got about ten different sets of plates, and a dozen sets of magnetic decals. He's also got a full tactical radio stack, so we at LVPD can't coordinate the hunt over the radio."

Sophie asked Caitlin, "Is NEST engaged?"

Caitlin nodded. "No hits yet."

Sophie considered this, then laid a map on the hood of Caitlin's car.

Sophie looked over the map. "All right, you bastards. Where are you going to hide a nuke to give the NEST boys a hard time finding it?"

Brass said, "It's a needle in a haystack."

Sophie said, "I really don't see what's so damn hard about finding a needle in a haystack, if you use the right tool."

Brass blinked. "Not tracking, Chief."

Caitlin sighed. "Me, neither, honestly."

"Most of the haystack is made of hay, right? The needle isn't, though. Just get a big honking magnet, and Bob's your uncle. You want to hide a needle, put it in a pile of needles. NEST has tools that can find a bomb if they get close to it, so the black hats need someplace with a lot of background radiation."

Sharp blinked. "You want to hide a nuclear bomb, just hide it in the ammo bunker complex."

"Where's that, exactly?"

Brass pointed at an empty space on the topo map. Sophie frowned. "That's over five miles. From what I know of weapons effects, that's way too far away to hit Tenth Air Force. It's only 10 kilotons, Hell, you wouldn't even get a sunburn at this distance."

Brass asked, "Could one bomb set off others, make a bigger bang?"

Sophie shook her head. "Doesn't work that way, it's not like conventional explosives. It'd contaminate everything downwind, though--vaporize that much bomb-grade material, it's going to be ugly. But even that would blow away from the base, up the I-15 corridor right now."

She looked again. "OK, we've got the base hospital across the street from the Tenth Air Force compound."

Sharp said, "I work with the forensics guys a lot. Hospitals have a LOT of radiation sources. There's your best bet."

* * *

Tanner looked at Sophie and said, "Chief, I'm not suggesting you're crazy, I'm just saying I'm not at your level of smarts."

"Sir, the hospital's right across the street. If our missing nuke is going anywhere, it's there."

Tanner nodded. "OK, I follow that part."

"I am assuming the thing is set to go off the moment they hit the arming switch. So, INDIGO FIRE from DOE takes down the truck the moment it rolls up, and they do a render-safe."

"Right." Tanner frowned. "So what are you doing?"

Sophie smiled, knowing damn well how it would be received and accepting it. "Using my personable, sparkling charm on the guy driving the truck to find out where Roon is."

Tanner shuddered. "Forget I even asked."

* * *

"NEST just got a hit at Gate 1!"

Sophie felt her pulse racing and focused on triangular breathing to calm herself.

NEST's INDIGO FIRE team had put together a solid plan to grab the truck when it pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Sophie was in the rear seat of a jeep, with Caitlin sitting in the driver's seat.

"Chief, why the hell are we here?"

"NEST's plan has just one problem: they're counting on the van going into the--"

"SHIT, HE JUST MISSED THE TURN INTO THE HOSPITAL! EAST ON FITZGERALD!"

Sophie said, "GO-GO-GO! East, towards the flight line!"

Caitlin threw the jeep in gear and pulled onto Fitzgerald.

The panel truck came up on their left.

"MATCH SPEED WITH HIM!"

Caitlin allowed the panel van to come alongside and smoothly accelerated into place. Behind them, a CSP Dodge CUCV hit the lights and siren.

Time seemed to telescope outwards, slowing down.

Come on, make your move--

The passenger side sliding door opened, and a man leaned out with an M16.

Thank you.

Sophie stood up in the jeep and grabbed the muzzle of the M16, then yanked hard.

The man fell out of the panel truck and landed half inside the jeep and half dragging on the road, releasing the M16. Sophie jumped into the panel truck, climbed up, and butt-stroked the driver, who promptly fell out of his seat and out the open left door.

Seat belts save lives, buddy!

Sophie jumped into the driver's seat and brought the truck to a halt, then checked the back.

The only item was a B-54 Mod 2 SADM strapped to a cradle. Sophie raced out the back doors of the truck.

"IT'S THERE!"

Within five minutes, the weapon was safe, and INDIGO FIRE drove off with the truck. Detective Brass was standing over the guy she'd knocked out of the vehicle, reading him Miranda.

Sophie strolled up. "Sorry, not your jurisdiction."

"He stole the truck from LVPD."

"Well, sorry, he's going to disappear. And I must also remind you that, officially, this never happened. All you need to tell your bosses is that this fool managed to get himself crosswise with a national security investigation."

Brass nodded. "All right, then."

* * *

The police officer's name was Frank Leeman.

Sophie sat down across from him in the interrogation hut, sipping coffee.

Not a lot of time before Roon realizes it didn't work.

She said nothing, passing the time by thinking through the implications of Chen's Theorem as a means of solving the strong version of Golbach's Conjecture.

"Who are you?"

Sophie sipped her coffee and sighed. Goldbach's Conjecture had fascinated her since fourth grade, and she was no closer to a solution than she'd been in 1975.

A woman's reach should exceed her grasp, or what's a heaven for?

"Yo, bitch, I'm talking to you. I demand my lawyer--"

Sophie said, "You are in a position to demand . . . nothing. I, however, am in a position to grant . . . nothing."

"Goddamnit, I have a right to know the charges."

"Oh, that's easy. You're going to hang for treason. The trial's going to be a formality. Smuggling a nuclear bomb onto an Air Force Base in wartime is highly frowned on."

Leeman's face went white.

"That was a nuke?"

"Yup." Sophie yawned. "My bosses want me to ask you some questions, but I don't really see the point. They've got you dead to rights. You'd need something spectacular just to get your sentence down to life in a supermax, and we'd still have to keep you in solitary to keep the Broederbund or Los Abuelos from shanking your bitch ass."

"Look, I know stuff."

"I'm sure you do. Got any insight on proving Goldbach's Conjecture?"

"What?"

"Didn't think so." She stood up. "Well, I've got places to be--"

"I know who supplied the bomb."

Sophie laughed. "You expect me to believe that bullshit? Honey, I know enough about spycraft to know that the big kahunas do everything through cutouts. They're not going to risk stupid shit like this derailing their entire operation."

"He's a wheel in trafficking children."

Sophie looked at him carefully. "Give me a few minutes. Your only chance of getting any sort of deal is pretty simple: you don't haggle. You cough up the goods, on demand. And you'd better be telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, or you're going to end up as buzzard chow somewhere between here and Sacajawea Maneuver Area in North Dakota."

"Look, how do I know you'll keep your word?"

Sophie smiled, and watched Leeman's eyes widen in fear.

"I've given you no word to keep, Officer Leeman. You simply have no other alternative."

* * *

He'd positively ID'd Roon from a collection of photos, and had then given up Roon's primary safehouse, a house off North Buffalo.

Sophie checked her MP5SD3 one last time, then slipped into the neighborhood along a drainage ditch that poured onto North Buffalo. Her target was a house in the middle of the street, with a kidney-shaped swimming pool in the backyard and two stories, in a reddish-brown stucco finish with light green trim.

The house was exactly as described, which only made Sophie more paranoid.

She heard a pair of squelch breaks in her earpiece; Hummel was driving a Nevada Power three-wheeler and checking electric meters on the block.

Sophie broke squelch twice.

Hummel walked onto the property and headed to the meter, scribbling notes on his clipboard. He looked inside the window and made a pumping motion with his fist: GO-GO-GO!

Sophie hopped the fence with one quick, economic move, then moved across the pool deck to the back door.

She checked the door: unlocked. She slipped inside silently and moved through the utility room and kitchen, then motioned for Hummel to come in through the back.

Hummel had just closed the back door behind him when she heard a slap and a young girl crying.

Sophie held up a fist to Hummel, who froze.

She tapped her ear, then held her arm up at an angle. I hear people, upstairs. She held her hand at waist level: at least one minor.

Hummel nodded, then made a walking motion in Sophie's direction. Sophie nodded, and Hummel crept forward.

They moved silently across the living room to the stairs, and then Sophie tested the first tread, staying to one side.

It took them five minutes to get upstairs. By then the girl was screaming continuously, and Sophie's grasp of German didn't cover the language the man was using.

The bedroom had a sliding glass door leading to a balcony that overlooked the pool area. Roon was on the bed, the girl underneath him. Sophie slipped in, followed by Hummel.

She spoke quietly. "Guten tag, Herr Roon."

Roon leaped off of the girl, and Sophie gestured him away from the bed. Once he was standing where she wanted him, she fired the MP5 twice, one bullet into each kneecap.

Hummel looked at Sophie, but said nothing.

Sophie's voice was calm. "Sir, would you please get her clothed, and get her out of here? I'm doing site exploitation."

Hummel nodded.

Sophie shrugged off her backpack and went to the desk. The computer hard drive was the sort where one used a key to unlock it from the chassis. She typed SHIP and hit enter, turned off the computer, and unlocked the disk drive from the chassis and put it in her backpack.

She picked the lock on the first file cabinet and found three more drives, and took those.

Roon chuckled.

"Site exploitation by the book. But shooting me in the kneecaps isn't by the book, Henrix."

She finished going through the files, finding nothing useful in print.

She closed the file cabinet.

"No, it isn't."

"You seem unimpressed that I recognized you."

"There's three of us. I don't have Alyssa Miller's height, and Laura Compton's a redhead. That just leaves ol' Sophie Henrix."

"Yes. Sophie Henrix. Born of Charles and Larissa Henrix in San Diego, California, March 29th, 1965. Graduated Patrick Henry High School magna cum laude, Class of 1983, awarded a full scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, dropped on request at the beginning of her junior year. Recruited as a Special Reconnaissance Operator by General Samuel Lodge, who just happens to be her boyfriend's uncle. But those are the easy facts. Figuring out where Team MONTANA was operating in New Mexico, now that was a real challenge."

Sophie went through the desk, taking the Rolodex and appointment book.

"Trying to think like someone who barely avoided being diagnosed as having autism spectrum disorder was extremely difficult."

Sophie forced herself to not react as she went through another filing cabinet, taking out a pair of ledgers that had coded entries. She noted the copyright date on the Webster's Dictionary in the drawer.

"Although it wasn't until you got here that I could fully get a handle on your personality. The shy, retiring, asexual, teenager has turned into a hussar, seeking pleasure wherever she may find it. Too bad I couldn't get word about your shenanigans to Adam."

Sophie walked out the door. Roon chuckled. "You're not going to leave me for Las Vegas Metro PD, are you?"

Sophie turned around and said, "No, I'm not. Try the fire department."

She pulled a canister from her load-bearing harness. "I'm willing to bet that, even with those ruined knees, you'll be able to jump through those sliding glass doors and into the pool when I cook this baby off."

Roon's eyes widened in terror. "NEIN!"

Sophie replied, "Ja."

She pulled the pin on the white phosphorus grenade and tossed it gently into the room, then headed downstairs. There was a loud WHOOMPH! from the bedroom.

As she headed out the front door, a flaming body crashed through the sliding glass door and tumbled over the balcony railing into the swimming pool.

* * *

Decker took Sophie's ruck in silence, then took the passenger seat.

Sophie climbed in the jeep, started it, and put it in gear.

"Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"

"It was WIllie Pete, sir."

Decker sighed. "And Hannibal got on my shit for bombing Vietcong hospitals."

"I looked it up, sir. You only did it in retaliation for Charlie attacking US hospitals."

"Some folks would say that two wrongs don't make a right."

Sophie nodded as she drove down North Buffalo. "Others would say don't start none, won't be none, sir."

Decker was quiet for a long moment, then said, "Yeah."

A few minutes later, he said, "We aren't headed back to the base."

"Gotta stop off at University Medical Center, sir."

* * *

After a brief discussion with the neurology department, Sophie came out with some brochures. They drove back to Nellis in silence.

After a brief discussion with Caitlin, and some work with Elmer's Glue, scissors, and cardboard, Sophie walked into where the ACHERNAR network was waiting.

Caitlin passed Post-It notes out. "Ladies, if you could look this over and see if you recognize anybody, please? Don't point, just write down the number privately. Write a zero if you don't recognize anyone."

Each looked at the pictures on a cardboard sheet, and wrote.

Sophie took up the numbers and saw Roxy looking at her.

Roxy's Post-It had a six.

Christy, Diane, and Ginger had zeroes.

Traci Lords had a six.

* * *

Traci Lords stepped into Caitlin's office. She saw Sophie escorting a weeping Roxy Skye down the hall.

"Ms. Lords, we've never been properly introduced. I'm Special Agent Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, with the Air Force Office of Special Investigations. We're the criminal investigations branch for the Air Force, modeled on the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You stated that you recognized subject number six from our mugshot gallery. Could you give me some background on how you recognized her? Please be advised that this is not a criminal investigation; I have a feeling that Chief Henrix is going to do something extremely rash that's going to prevent anyone from ever prosecuting a case."

* * *

Tanner looked at Chief Warrant Officer Henrix.

"Chief . . . I believe an explanation is in order."

"Sir . . . does the name Michael Daukei sound familiar?"

"Shadow Walker? The recently-elected leader of the Mescalero Apache tribe?"

"Yes, sir." She sighed. "I promised him that I would exact justice for his people's children."

She told Tanner about her first encounter with Roon.

Tanner nodded. "I see."

"Sir . . . the most damning thing of all . . . I think I can live with it. And if I had to do it all over again, I would. A guilty conscience is a small price to pay for saving Nellis, and for redressing a few grievances of the Mescalero Apache people. So I will learn to live with it. Because I can live with it, sir."

Tanner was silent for a long time.

"Chief, you stand fast, everyone else, please leave."

Glosson, Vandenhelden, Decker, and Hummel left.

Tanner said, "There's something missing, Chief. Something personal."

"Sir, this is a long story."

Tanner gestured to a chair. "Well, then let's sit down and talk."

[jemhouston]

Have a drink standing by for Tanner.

You know, I knew Tanner was a good man. I just didn't know how good until now.

[Wolfman]

Have a drink standing by for Tanner.

You know, I knew Tanner was a good man. I just didn't know how good until now.

Have a strong drink standing by for Tanner, I suspect that he’ll need it by the time Sophie’s done with her story…

[jemhouston]

Have a drink standing by for Tanner.

You know, I knew Tanner was a good man. I just didn't know how good until now.

Have a strong drink standing by for Tanner, I suspect that he’ll need it by the time Sophie’s done with her story…

Have him on sick call for the next two days.

You know Sophie was being merciful with the Willy Pete. She could have given him to the Apaches.

[Wolfman]

Have a drink standing by for Tanner.

You know, I knew Tanner was a good man. I just didn't know how good until now.

Have a strong drink standing by for Tanner, I suspect that he’ll need it by the time Sophie’s done with her story…

Have him on sick call for the next two days.

You know Sophie was being merciful with the Willy Pete. She could have given him to the Apaches.

He deserved the Apaches…

[Matt Wiser]

What she did was merciful compared to what the Apaches would've done, but just as deserved.

One wonders if there were some Mob muscle closing in, and Sophie beat them to it. They'll wonder if someone used too much explosives...

[Matryoshka]

Within five minutes, the weapon was safe, and INDIGO FIRE drove off with the truck. Detective Brass was standing over the guy I'd knocked out of the vehicle, reading him Miranda.

I strolled up. "Sorry, not your jurisdiction."

"He stole the truck from LVPD."

"Well, sorry, he's going to disappear. And I must also remind you that, officially, this never happened. All you need to tell your bosses is that this fool managed to get himself crosswise with a national security investigation."

Sharp nodded. "All right, then."

A couple of editing problems with names and pronouns, methinks.

One of the things about this particular branch of operations: as a rule of thumb, you have to have an atypical personality to do it well, and it’s crap like Roon that makes you realise how much weight ‘atypical’ is pulling in that phrase....

[Poohbah]

Within five minutes, the weapon was safe, and INDIGO FIRE drove off with the truck. Detective Brass was standing over the guy I'd knocked out of the vehicle, reading him Miranda.

I strolled up. "Sorry, not your jurisdiction."

"He stole the truck from LVPD."

"Well, sorry, he's going to disappear. And I must also remind you that, officially, this never happened. All you need to tell your bosses is that this fool managed to get himself crosswise with a national security investigation."

Sharp nodded. "All right, then."

A couple of editing problems with names and pronouns, methinks.

One of the things about this particular branch of operations: as a rule of thumb, you have to have an atypical personality to do it well, and it’s crap like Roon that makes you realise how much weight ‘atypical’ is pulling in that phrase....

Fixed the errors, thanks.

OOC: There was an exchange in the movie Under Siege 2: Dark Territory that captures that dynamic:

Admiral Bates: Why would you people hire a goddamn maniac?
Tom Breaker: [impatiently] Because, Admiral, sane people do not build weapons like this.
Admiral Bates: You know, Mr. Breaker... you'd think we'd learn something from that.

[Poohbah]

20 December 1987
Tenth Air Force Headquarters
Nellis Air Force Base
Las Vegas NV

Buster Glosson knocked on the door of Tanner's office.

"Enter!"

Glosson stepped in and saw Tanner sitting at his desk, a contemplative expression on his face.

"Sir, with all due respect, I wasn't sure of what to expect from your private conversation with Chief Henrix." Glosson sighed, then said, "I wasn't expecting this."

Tanner nodded. "I wasn't, either. That said . . . there are reasons."

"Do tell, sir."

* * *

Caitlin's voice was subdued. "Sophie . . . it's not too late to turn back."

"No, it isn't, Caitlin. The question is whether I should."

Caitlin sighed. "And I still don't have a good answer to that. But why you?"

Sophie watched the late afternoon sun on the flight line, remembering a camping trip she'd taken to the mountains above Santa Barbara with Adam during their junior year summer vacation.

They had watched the sunset, then made love in their tent--slow, tender love, feeling serenity and peace together.

When things had been innocent.

Before they'd both had to grow up so much sooner than they'd expected.

"Caitlin . . . there, but for the grace of God . . . I could've gone."

Sophie heard a hitch in Caitlin's breath.

"All right, then."

Caitlin gave Sophie an address.

* * *

Tanner said, "Way back when she was 14 years old, Chief Henrix's--Sophie's--mother caught her smoking pot. She was extremely disappointed in her daughter, and asked her why she'd do such a thing. Sophie's answer was that it turned the numbers off so she could do her English and Social Studies homework.

Glosson's face showed surprise. "Interesting."

"Well, her parents grounded her for two weeks . . . and took her to the University of California at San Diego hospital to get examined and tested. Eventually, they took her to Cedars Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles, and that's where she got some real help."

* * *

The MC-130E taxied out. As the engines spooled up to takeoff power, Sophie leaned back against the fuselage bulkhead and closed her eyes.

* * *

Tanner poured a couple tumblers of Johnny Walker and passed on to Glosson.

"So, this afternoon, after she'd kneecapped Roon--"

"Wait, he was kneecapped? How in the hell did he manage to run through the sliding glass door and leap into the pool?"

Tanner sighed. "Both knees, even. Being covered in Willie Pete--remember, he didn't have clothes on--can motivate a man to achieve the impossible. Not that jumping into the pool actually helped him any. As I was saying, after she kneecapped Roon, he tried to screw with her head while she did site exploitation."

"He'd tried that before--that SCUD launch site down in New Mexico she told us about. What did he do this time?"

"He tried talking to her."

Glosson shook his head. "I would be extremely careful about how I talk to someone like Chief Henrix."

"Roon wasn't."

* * *

Her mother was holding up the dime baggie, filled with a mixture of marijuana and oregano. "Sophie Marie Henrix, why? I see what this stuff does to people. Two of my best students, sure shots for master's and doctoral programs, ended up on academic probation after smoking pot!"

"Mom . . . it turns the numbers off."

"Why would you do that?"

"I have to do English and Social Studies homework, too, Mom."

Her mother suddenly deflated.

"Oh, Sophie . . . I had no idea. Why couldn't you talk to us?"

Sophie felt hot tears pricking her eyes . . .

. . . She'd accepted the grounding with a quiet stoicism that had stunned her parents, who'd gotten used to a moody, troubled daughter in the throes of puberty.

Three nights in, her mother had come up to her room.

"Sweetie . . . I'm trying to get my brain around what's going on in your head. I may have been too--"

"You weren't."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Mom . . . you were right, I should've talked to you. I earned this. By being stupid. Because I don't understand people, and because I can't stop seeing the numbers, and because Josh doesn't know I even exist, and why is everything so hard?"

Her mother wrapped her arms around her. "Oh, sweetie . . . being a teenager's hard enough, it was no picnic for me, and I didn't have your gift--"

"It doesn't feel like a gift right now, Mom--"

"Hush. I didn't realize it had a downside. We're going to get you help, sweetie."

Sophie started awake to droning turboprops.

She forced herself to do triangular breathing, five seconds in, five seconds hold, five seconds out, all aimed at calming her down.

* * *

Glosson slammed down the rest of his whiskey. "Jesus. How sure of this are you?"

Tanner took the tumbler from Glosson and held up the bottle. Glosson nodded.

Tanner poured another tumbler, then said, "She did a mugshot review with the network she was supporting. Eight pictures, one live, seven decoys. Two of them came back with the same person. And per the AFOSI liaison, they were both underage at the time they met her."

Glosson sipped his whiskey, then said, "There's going to be another killing, isn't there?"

Tanner nodded. "And it's on the record as being under my orders."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in command, and I accept responsibility for it. Like her . . . I can live with it. And she gave me something to explain why she was urging this course of action."

* * *

The rear hatch came open. Los Angeles Basin was under mandatory blackout, but Sophie managed to pick out the initial point just fine: even from 25,000 feet up and with dimmed headlights, the Santa Ana Freeway was easy to pick out with the truck traffic.

Sophie was on her oxygen bottle, swim fins duct-taped to her shins, rebreather on her chest in place of a reserve chute, mission equipment secured between her legs in a watertight bag on a bungee, rigged to drop as she got ready to land.

She looked at the loadmaster, who was tied into the aircraft intercom.

He held up five fingers, closing them one by one. As the last finger closed, the light above his shoulder went green, and Sophie walked forward.

Stepped off of the ramp.

The night was clear, and Sophie quickly picked up Upper and Lower Stone Canyon Reservoir, and began tracking towards the target.

At 1,000 feet, she yanked the ripcord, and the chute opened hard. She steered the risers confidently, tracking with the wind towards her landing point 500 feet north of the dam.

At 50 feet, she let the mission gear loose, and waited for the sound of it hitting the water.

She heard the splash and counted off One Mississippi Two Mississippi . . .

She flared, then released the right-hand Koch fitting just as her feet touched the water.

In less than fifteen seconds, she released her left-hand Koch fitting, donned her Draeger mouthpiece, and released her swim fins. In another five seconds, she had her fins on. The gear bag was floating on the reservoir surface, and she reined in the bungee. The parachute sank to the reservoir courtesy of some weights on the risers.

She surfaced just long enough to get her bearings, and then swam to the east, towing the bag. When she reached shore, she opened the waterproof bag and emptied it. She stripped out of her dive gear, bled the air out of the Draeger, adjusted the inflation on the buoyancy compensator, and stuffed the dive gear into the bag. She then donned ABUs and put on camouflage makeup, using light colors on shadowed elements of her face and dark colors on the shine locations, flattening everything into a nondescript blur.

The last thing she put into the dive bag was a tiny explosive charge next to the buoyancy compensator. She set the timer, sealed the bag and pushed it into the reservoir. The bag floated for a minute, getting about forty feet from shore. The charge popped, and the bag sank quickly.

She slipped on her ALICE pack and load-bearing equipment, slung her MP5SD3, and donned her gunfighter rig, which now carried a suppressed Smith & Wesson 459 pistol.

She started up the slope.

* * *

Tanner held up a paperclip.

Glosson blinked . . . and then his memory kicked in.

"Oh."

* * *

Sophie was a wraith in the night, a shadow that moved from one patch of scrub to the next. She made her way slowly, avoiding the trail that had been worn by LADWP employees over most of a century, carefully checking for loose rocks or dry grass.

Shortly before gaining the scrub below 1910, two houses away from her target, she heard a door open, and she dropped flat onto the ground and remained absolutely still.

There was movement on the back yard area above her. She heard the snap of a lighter; a few minutes later, she smelled cigarette smoke.

Eventually, footsteps retreated toward the house, and she heard the door open and close.

Sophie crawled along next to the scrub, reaching the retaining wall that ran along the ridge, creating space for backyards. She crawled along the base of the retaining wall down slope to behind 1940, then scrambled up a tree and onto the top of the wall. She sprinted across the lawn, down a walkway, and went to the front door.

Picking the lock took thirty-seven seconds. Once inside, she locked the door and made her way to the alarm keypad, noted the model of the alarm system, pressed the star key three times, and punched in a random string of twenty-four digits, followed by the pound and star keys together.

The alarm display showed that it was still working; but she'd disabled the line to the alarm company. It would show up as a fault, and the company would likely call the police to investigate.

Sophie spent ten minutes sweeping the house; the sheer size boggled her mind.

So this is how the other half lives. Nice.

About ten minutes after that, she heard an LAPD cruiser roll up outside; about five minutes later, the police left, having seen no sign of suspicious activity or forced entry.

Twenty minutes later, she heard the outside gate slide open, and a car rolled through and into the garage. She walked downstairs and positioned herself in the living room, out of view of the door from the garage into the kitchen.

Doctor Catherine Becker, head of the Neurology Department at Cedars Sinai Medical Center, swept into the kitchen, tossed her purse and keys onto the counter, and opened the refrigerator. She got out a bottle of wine and poured a glass, then headed into the living room.

"Good evening, Doctor Becker."

Becker dropped her wine and whirled towards Sophie.

"Tsk, tsk. That's alcohol abuse." Sophie gestured with the muzzle of the MP5. "Grab a stool from the kitchen bar--slowly, mind you--and bring it right into the middle of that open area, and then have a seat. I don't want you to be able to reach for anything."

Becker did so, and Sophie nodded. "Very good."

"Who are you?"

"Sophie Henrix."

Becker smiled. "Oh. You."

"Yeah, me." Sophie paused, then said, "Amanda Harris sends her regards. As does Norma Kuzma."

Becker nodded. "I see."

"Do you?"

"What brings you here?"

"How long have you been working for RED?"

"Red? Oh, you're military now, that's right. 'Red,' the adversary. Pure Sophie Henrix. Always displacing and dissipating your anger onto impersonal forces, never taking it out on the people who held you back."

"How long ago did Roon recruit you?"

"Since the beginning, dear. I was recruited in graduate school."

"Which letter?"

"What?"

"There's an acronym used in the intelligence world: MICE. Money, Ideology, Compromise, Ego. Which one?"

"Oh. Ideology, absolutely. Capitalism is an incredibly destructive belief system that creates massive inequality."

Sophie rolled her eyes. "For an alleged socialist, holy Jeebus, you like to live high on the hog."

"I make no apologies for enjoying the finer things of life. But capitalism corrupts everything it touches, as I've learned from so many of the best and brightest of politics and industry. And as you've found out from Amanda and Norma. They're all in my files, dear."

"Considering that you did the corrupting on those two, Doc, that's some chutzpah you've got." Sophie paused. "It explains some of your more . . . unusual . . . questions you asked me. You were trying to see if I could be seduced. Groomed." Sophie paused, then spat out, "Soiled."

"I was merely bringing out the full potential of those young women."

Sophie snorted. "Yeah, right. And me?"

"You were a prime example of how capitalism represses natual human sexual express--"

"I was a child who was coming to grips with both puberty and a brain that does math like no one's business. I had a silly crush on a guy who wasn't the one, and now I pray that he makes it through the war, gets healed, and reunites with the woman God made for him--and that she survives as well. I thank God I have parents who taught me that my body was my own, I thank God that I met a good and decent guy in high school, the one God made me for, the one God made for me, and I'm going to live my life with him after we put your particular flavor of . . . blasphemy . . . onto the ash heap of history, where it rightly belongs. I was given a gift that has some downsides. Part of growing up is managing those downsides. You were given a gift of being able to help people get a grip on their own minds, to understand how people's brains worked--or didn't. To heal them. You used it to destroy young women and then blamed 'capitalism' for you being a damn pervert. Well, I'm wrapping this up, I've got a plane to catch."

Sophie was astonished at how calm she was.

"Sophie, everything I did was out of love--"

Sophie brought up the MP5 and squeezed the trigger. The weapon coughed politely. A single round hit Becker in the forehead, and she went to the floor.

"It was a boring conversation, anyway."

Sophie retrieved the spent brass, then took Becker's keys and unlocked the filing cabinets in her study. She carefully replaced the keys where she'd found them, then left through the garage, carefully locking the door behind her with the lockpick set.

She slipped out of the property the same way she came in, headed north, and then east across North Beverly Glen Road, into Beverly Glen Park.

Two hours later, an HH-1N helicopter from the Navy's HA(L)-6 "Firebirds," the Fleet Replacement Squadron for the Navy's light attack helicopter community, swooped low over a ridge, dangling a Special Purpose Insertion/Extraction rig. Sophie clipped on and was immediately lifted into the air, then hauled into the aircraft as it turned south towards Los Alamitos.

* * *

Caitlin jolted awake as the phone on her desk rang.

"Special Agent O'Shaugnessy."

Sophie's voice was calm. "Need a packing crew. And some cleanup."

"How bad?"

"Not too messy, but someone's probably coming by in the morning to check the phone, I don't want them getting surprised."

"Understood."

* * *

Sophie climbed onto the MC-130E and nodded to the loadmaster, who knew better than to ask questions.

She sat down, fastened her seatbelt, and fell asleep.

[Wolfman]

The Sleep of the Just…

[Johnnie Lyle]

It’s always the rich people who diss capitalism.

[jemhouston]

Roon wasn't talking to her, he was trying to twist the knife one last time.

Catherine Becker reminds me of nasty Hetty Lange.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Roon wasn't talking to her, he was trying to twist the knife one last time.

Catherine Becker reminds me of nasty Hetty Lange.

And/Or trying a Hail Mary to goad her into angrily shooting her.

[Matryoshka]

The theory of communism is, on its face, fairly attractive.
Where it comes apart in practice is the bit where all that centralised authority always seems to fall into the hands of despots and tyrants and hypocrites who completely ignore the theory of the communism they supposed defend and propound, in favour of “One rule (AKA power, wealth and luxury) for me, another (privation and servitude and powerlessness) for thee”....