Contrail: Conspiracy
Contrail: Conspiracy
Cam Walker
First published by Cam Walker 2020.
The second edition was published by Cam Walker in 2022.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Cam Walker asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book has endorsed the book.
Second Edition ISBN: 978-0-6489205-7-1
First published by Cam Walker
Editing by Karen Guest, Randall Searles & Laura Graves
Cover Design by Paree Erica
Other titles by Cam Walker
The Contrail Series
Contrail: Genesis
Contrail: Terminal
Contrail: Legacy
For Georgia and Olivia.
Without them, I would be nothing.
“We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.”
—Winston Churchill
Contents
1. ALPHA
2. BRAVO
3. CHARLIE
4. DELTA
5. ECHO
6. FOXTROT
7. GOLF
8. HOTEL
9. INDIA
10. JULIET
11. KILO
12. LIMA
13. MIKE
14. NOVEMBER
15. EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Contrail: Genesis
Contrail: Terminal
ALPHA
Los Angeles International Airport
24th January 2018
7:24 am Pacific Standard Time
Solomon Barrett pulled up the collar of his jacket as a gust of wintry morning air blew into the front of the aircraft hangar.
“Okay, Jane. Let’s get this aircraft prepped so we can get out of here,” he said, reaching into a drawer for a large roll of masking tape.
“That sounds like a great idea. I’m pretty beat after that flight. It sure is one hell of a long way to come just to babysit an aircraft.”
“Don’t complain. The airline is paying us well to turn the wheels and grease the gear while it’s parked for a repaint. Easy money.”
“I wasn’t complaining—”
She stopped mid-sentence and froze like a statue. “Er, Sol?”
“Yes, Jane.”
“Turn around.”
He turned and could immediately sense her fear.
“What is it?” he asked, walking closer to her.
She gritted her teeth and said, “There’s a guy behind me with a camera. I think he’s taking pictures of us.”
“Where?” he asked, looking behind her to the rear of the hangar.
“Behind the scissor lift.”
Sol squinted his eyes and saw the outline of a man holding a camera pointed at them, standing behind the equipment and trying to blend in with the shadows.
Photography was prohibited in the hangar, and he could tell this man wasn’t taking pictures of the aircraft. The man had the camera pointed directly at him.
“You can’t take pictures in here!” Sol shouted.
The man instantly lowered the camera, slung it over his shoulder, and ran for a side door.
Sol decided to follow and sprinted along the dawn‑lit alleyway after him. “Hey! What are you doing?” Sol yelled.
The man quickly glanced over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner of the hangar.
Sol followed, and as he ran around the corner, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him from his direction of travel.
As his arm was violently twisted behind his back, he was pushed face-first into the hangar wall. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled.
The man put his face close to the side of Sol’s head and said, “You’re Solomon Barrett, aren’t you?”
Sol wrestled to get his arm free and felt the warmth of the man’s breath on his face. He winced as droplets of saliva landed on his skin. “That depends on who and why anyone is asking.”
The man pushed him harder into the hangar wall. “Is your name Solomon Barrett?”
“Yes,” he said through a tightly clenched jaw. “Now, get the fuck off me!”
“We need to talk. I have information you need to hear.”
He struggled to loosen the man’s grip. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m nothing more than a simple aircraft engineer.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the man said, speaking close to his ear. “You’re a lot more important than you think, and you are here for reasons that reach beyond maintaining an aircraft.”
“Then just tell me what you have to say!”
“Not here, too many people listening…” the man said, looking up at a security camera mounted to the top of the hangar wall. “And too many eyes. Meet me at the Tiki-Ti bar on Sunset Boulevard at 8:00 pm. I have a private room there.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“For the same reason you chased me here. Your need for information.”
“Why were you taking pictures of me?” he asked, remembering how he had ended up in this predicament.
“Proof you are here in LA, which means their plan is coming together.”
“Whose plan? What are you talking about?”
The man ignored the question and spoke even closer to his ear. He whispered, “I have information that could save Kate’s life.”
Sol felt chills travel up and down his spine. “How do you know my wife’s name?”
“Meet me at the bar, and do not call the cops,” the man said, ignoring his question again. “They will only make things worse, and they can’t help you or Kate.”
The man released him, stepped back, and paused. Sol spun around to see his attacker staring back at him. The man quickly turned and broke into a sprint, heading towards the airport boundary fence.
Sol realised the man was correct. He did need information, and he needed it now. How did this man know who he was, and how did he know Kate was in danger?
He watched the man leap the chain-link fence in the distance like a parkour world champion and disappear into the shadows.
Sol bent over to catch his breath. On the ground in front of him, he saw a photo ID card with a lanyard attached to it. He picked it up and looked at the card, recognising the face of the man who had just ambushed him.
He shoved the ID card into his shirt pocket, hoping it might help to identify his attacker.
He reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out his mobile phone to call Kate, and paused. If she was in danger, calling her could make things worse.
He remembered the man had said not to call the cops as they wouldn’t help. Sol had to believe him and decided to speak with the hangar manager, Chuck Walters, to find out if he recognised the face on the ID card. Maybe Chuck knew who he was and could point him in the right direction.
He put his phone back in his trouser pocket, hurried into the hangar, and stormed into Chuck’s office near the entrance on the ground floor. As he entered, Chuck quickly minimised the computer screen and shuffled some papers on his desk, pretending to be busy.
“Yes, Sol. What can I do for you?” Chuck stopped shuffling the papers and stared at him. “Have you been running?”
Sol paused. Not only to catch his breath, but to remember what the man in the alleyway had said—do not call the cops.
He knew that would be the first thing Chuck would do as soon as he told him anything about what happened in the alleyway. But he had to find out who the man was. It was all he had.
Still breathless, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the ID card, placing it on the desk in front of Chuck. “Do you… do you know this guy?”
Chuck picked up the ID card and put on a pair of weathered old glasses—complete with duct tape wound around one arm that held them together. He stared at the photo for a few seconds.
“Eddie Rose,” he said under his breath.
Chuck looked at Sol, removed his glasses, and leaned forward in his chair. “What makes you think I should know this man?”
“Well, he was here in your hangar. I thought you might know him.”
“No, sir. I most certainly do not. If this man was inside my hangar, he was trespassing.”
Chuck put the glasses back on and gave the card a secondary inspection. “Where did you get this?”
He nodded and pointed at the ID card in Chuck’s hand. “That man attacked me in the alleyway out the back of the hangar and then jumped the airport fence. This must have fallen out of his pocket.”
“He attacked you?”
“Yeah.”
“W
hy would he do that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you might know him. He said he had information that would keep my wife alive.”
“Woah. Really? That’s interesting.”
Sol rubbed his arm where he had been grabbed by the man thought to be Eddie Rose. “Interesting is not the word I would have used, Chuck. Terrifying would be more appropriate.”
Chuck put the ID card down again. “Well, it’s highly unlikely we’ll find him from this.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“This isn’t even a real ID card.”
“It’s a fake?”
“Yes, sir.”
Chuck held up his ID card on the lanyard around his neck. “Our IDs have holograms over the pictures to protect against forgeries. See?” he said, pointing to the photo on his ID card.
Sol leaned forward to get a better look.
Chuck tapped at the ID card on his desk. “This one doesn’t have that. Anyway, leave it with me. I’ll hand it over to security and let them deal with it.”
Chuck picked up the phone’s handset on his desk, tapped in a number, and put the receiver to his ear.
Sol remembered what the man had said—do not call the cops.
Although Airport Security was not strictly the cops, they would certainly contact them if they thought foul play was at hand.
Sol quickly pushed his finger on the switch of the handset’s cradle, cancelling Chuck’s call before he could speak.
Chuck looked up. “What are you doing, man?”
“Let me call my wife first.”
Chuck looked confused. “Okay, why?”
“We just arrived in the country this morning. It seems odd that this guy was here taking pictures of us, then attacked me and said he had information that would help keep my wife alive. How would he know all of that?”
Chuck nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird. I’ll give you that.”
“I must find out what information this guy has and why he has it. I also don’t want to scare him into doing something that will further endanger Kate. Please, let me make sure she is okay before we involve anyone else.”
Chuck waved his hand at the door dismissively. “Okay. Go talk to her. Just let me know what you want me to do. But I’ll need an answer quick to give security a fighting chance to catch up to him.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can.”
He walked out to the front of the hangar and did some quick calculations in his head. Brisbane was 17 hours ahead of LA, making it 12:50 am.
He didn’t like the thought of waking her, but felt the situation more than justified it.
The early morning phone call may cause her to panic and think he was calling because he was in trouble. He could negate that by simply saying he had his time calculations wrong.
He reached into his trouser pocket again and pulled out his mobile phone. The phone rang for what seemed like minutes. Just as Sol was about to hang up, she answered, much to his relief.
“Hello?” Kate said, her voice cracking a little.
“Hey, beautiful. How are you doing?”
“Sol? What the hell? It’s the middle of the night.”
A sense of relief washed over him. Kate must be okay if the only thing she was annoyed about was a phone call in the middle of the night.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her tone becoming more concerned than annoyed. Just as he had predicted, she thought he was in trouble.
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry for waking you up. I, er, must have got my calculations wrong.”
“Okay. Would you mind if we did this a little later? I have an early shift at the hospital.”
“Yeah, okay, I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”
“Shit, Sol. You’ve only been gone for a day and a bit. I miss you and all, but maybe do your math better next time, hey?”
He smiled. “You know I never did well with math. Go back to sleep. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Jane walked towards him as he ended the call with Kate. “Are you okay, mate? What happened with the camera guy?”
“He attacked me in the alleyway out the back.”
“He what? Shit! Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a sore arm, that’s all.”
“Why was he taking pictures of us?”
“I don’t know yet. Although he said it was for proof that I’m here and that I should meet with him tonight at a bar on Sunset Boulevard.”
“And are you going to?”
“I think I have to. He also said he had information that could save Kate’s life.”
“Jesus! What the fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know. He ran off before I could get anything else out of him.”
“Have you spoken to Kate? Is she okay?”
He looked down at his phone. “Yeah, that was her. She seems fine.”
“What danger could she possibly be in?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do that, mate.” Sol knew this was his problem. For all he knew, he could be putting Jane in danger if she were to tag along.
“We have been sent here as a team, Sol. Where you go, I go. There’s no way I’m letting you go there by yourself.”
They were interrupted by the crash of the office door being flung open, and Chuck stormed through it with a scowl on his face.
“What’s the matter?” Sol shouted towards Chuck.
“That man you ran into?” Chuck said angrily as he marched across the hangar floor. “He’s a member of Viribus.”
Sol looked at Jane for validation. She shrugged in response.
“Should I know who that is?” Sol yelled back at Chuck.
“Oh, don’t you worry,” Chuck shouted as he climbed a set of stairs on the eastern wall. “You will soon enough.” He opened the door to an office on the upper floor and disappeared inside it.
“What the hell is going on here?” Sol muttered.
Los Angeles International Airport
24th January 2018
7:50 am Pacific Standard Time
Sol and Jane instinctively ducked as two loud gunshots echoed around the hangar, and two brilliant flashes of light emanated from behind the closed vertical blinds of the upstairs office. The one Chuck had just entered.
“Holy shit!” Sol screamed as he ran towards the staircase leading to the upper level. He scaled the stairs three at a time and barged through the office door.
For a second, he realised how incredibly stupid his actions were—running unarmed into a room where shots had just been fired.
Inside the office, he saw Chuck wrestling with a man dressed in a white military-style uniform. Chuck was hanging on to one of the man’s arms and was desperately trying to pry a pistol from his hand.
“A little help would be good!” Chuck yelled.
Sol rushed over to help him, and after a short tussle, pried the pistol from the man’s vice-like grip and backed away.
“Shoot!” Chuck screamed as he held on to the man.
Sol had never fired a weapon before, let alone killed anyone, and he didn’t intend to start today. He froze, staring at the pistol in his hands.
Chuck glanced up at him as he wrestled with the man. “What the fuck are you waiting for, Sol? Shoot this fucker!” he screamed.
Sol looked down at the pistol but couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.
The man in white produced a large hunting knife from a sheath concealed under his trouser leg and raised it into the air. He brought the knife down fast, plunging the blade deep into Chuck’s right thigh with a loud thud and a sickening squelch.
“Fucking shoot, Sol!” Chuck screamed in pain and desperation.
Sol aimed at the man’s leg and pulled the trigger. The man howled in pain and fell to the floor, clutching at the fresh gunshot wound to his leg.
Chuck limped over to Sol with the knife still embedded in his thigh and snatched the pistol from his hand. He turned around and stood over the man, screaming and writhing in pain on the ground.
Chuck didn’t hesitate and fired two quick shots directly into the man’s forehead.
“Jesus Christ!” Sol screamed as adrenaline surged through his veins. He had never witnessed anything like this, and involuntary dry retched. “What the fuck is going on here?”