“You sit back and enjoy the ride, Doc.”
Kaplan smiled at the title he had been awarded by those he worked with. In truth Saul Kaplan was neither a professor nor a doctor, though he had been granted honorary degrees as he’d risen through the levels. But he barely recognized them and refused to use the titles; he recognized his skills in his chosen profession and was happy simply to develop his craft, seeing no advantage to having paper titles. Kaplan saw no need for aggrandizement. He was simply Saul Kaplan. That was enough for him. He was at the top of his game.
Kaplan was the man who had created and designed the Zero Platform and the human technology that went with it. It was through his determination and drive that the orbiting satellite had been approved and built. His sheer persistence had pushed Zero through the seemingly insurmountable barriers initially placed in his way. The US Air Force, the branch of the American defense services that had taken on Zero, held Kaplan in great esteem. His creation had already proved itself, and Kaplan’s dream had stepped away from being a flight of fancy to become a solid reality that was continuing to prove itself in more ways than even Kaplan might have envisaged. “Doc” was simply something people called him out of respect for his skill and dedication to the work he did and Kaplan accepted it in the spirit it was given.
The Zero Platform was an orbiting defensive-offensive machine providing observation and analysis, though it also carried an array of weaponry capable of offering destructive potential. Currently that ordnance comprised powerful long-and short-range explosive-warhead missiles that could be used in an aggressive manner if the United States so decided. Weapons planned for future use—laser and particle beam—were still under development, though the complexities of putting them into action was proving frustrating, especially for Saul Kaplan. He was still working out the mechanics of the weapons. His expertise was being tested to the limit as he and the Air Force techs at Zero Command spent their days wrestling with the math and the applications of the weapons. Kaplan was confident they would succeed. The Air Force, always wanting everything by tomorrow, had been forced to step back and allow Kaplan his space.
During Zero’s early days the USAF had made it difficult for him, and Kaplan had walked away. His return to a full-time commitment to the Zero Project had come after an attempted takeover by rogue elements in the US and an aborted attempt by the Chinese to destroy the project. Kaplan had, in the end, come back to the fold after he had deliberated the point of his involvement with the man he knew as Matt Cooper. It had been Cooper, drawn into the affair, who’d convinced Kaplan that America would be better off having Zero and making sure it was the best. Cooper had also made the point that Doug Buchanan, the human part of Zero, had committed himself to the project and the two men needed each other. Kaplan had capitulated and had returned to the Zero group, determined to carry on his work.
Zero held state-of-the-art communication equipment and was also able to produce pinpoint, bird’s-eye views of the Earth. America did not publicly announce Zero’s existence and most of the nation had no idea that it was orbiting the Earth, monitoring and watching. It had, by nature, been identified, but only as an orbiting information platform. Its full operating capability had not been released. The platform served its purpose and the Air Force considered it one of their most important assets. Unfortunately, Zero’s secrets had been discovered by elements within the upper echelons of the People’s Republic of China, which had long harbored a desire to wrest Zero from the Americans.
* * *
ZERO’S ATTRIBUTES WERE controlled through a unique partnership between Zero, the machine, and Air Force Major Doug Buchanan, the human element within Zero. The uniqueness was in the coupling of man and machine via Kaplan’s genius—more specifically, his creation of the biocouch that fused Zero with Buchanan.
The implants within Buchanan’s cancer-ridden body allowed the man to resist his illness; the coupling kept the cancer under control while generating the symbiosis of man and machine. The biocouch constantly fed him with controlling drugs that held his cancer at bay and with regenerating elements that kept him alive and well.
Since the initial connection Zero and Buchanan had successfully operated the platform, and with each passing year the partnership had grown and proved itself on a number of occasions. Kaplan had labored ceaselessly to improve the setup, making adjustments to Zero’s electronic systems as well as working on ways to reduce the advance of cancerous cells within Buchanan’s system.
While Zero Command’s medical team monitored Buchanan’s physical well-being, Air Force psychologists watched over his mental health. Their counseling sessions found that Buchanan was handling that part of his health far better than they could have expected. They were unable to find any undue stress. No deep-rooted psychological problems. Doug Buchanan passed their probing analysis with ease, leaving them with little to do in that area.
The Crown Victoria eased away from the curb and merged with the light traffic. It was barely 7:30 a.m., the day bright and holding a sharp chill in the air. The forty-minute drive to the facility would take them out of the city and through the countryside. The drive to the Zero Command Center was something Kaplan enjoyed. A relaxing start to the day, allowing him time to gather his thoughts for what lay ahead.
The route they traveled was one of three that could be chosen. Kaplan knew alternate runs were not announced and were picked randomly just before each journey. There had been no problems with the routing since the creation of Zero Command. Sometimes, though, he wondered if the lack of anything but uniformity would lead to complacency.
The Crown Victoria cruised steadily, maintaining a smooth ride along the quiet back road. The single-lane blacktop was bordered by trees and a wide grass verge on each side. It was a pleasant run along a peaceful scene.
Until a car sped into view, swinging in close and causing Kessler to swerve to avoid a collision. The pressing closeness of the vehicle forced him to run off the road and across the grass, narrowly missing the close-standing trees. Kessler stood on the brakes, bringing the Vic to stop. Something about the intimidating presence of the other car alerted Kaplan that something was not right.
“Doc, stay in the car,” Kessler said. “Let me check this out.”
Kessler pushed open his door as he reached to open the glove box where he kept his service automatic.
As fast as he was, Kessler failed to stay ahead of the moment. Kaplan saw the passenger door being yanked open behind his driver, and a dark shape leaned in. Kessler stood no chance. The hand extended toward him held an automatic pistol. The weapon fired a single shot, sending a slug into the back of Kessler’s head. He toppled forward, half out the open door.
Before Kaplan could react, his rear door was pulled open. A stunning shock engulfed Kaplan’s body. His whole body went into a violent series of spasms. He fell back across the seat, body arching in reaction to the paralyzing agony that swept over him. He was barely aware of the hands reaching in to pull him out of the car. Or of the sharp jab of a needle into his neck. The powerful sedative worked quickly and Kaplan lost all conscious thought and feeling...
* * *
WHEN THE VEHICLE failed to arrive as expected, an alert was initiated. Although fitted with a tracking device, no sign of the Air Force car could be found. Electronic searches detected nothing; the tracking device was not working. Search vehicles were sent out from the Zero Command Center. They followed each route, in reverse, but found no sign of the vehicle until almost two hours after it had disappeared.
Just after 9:40 a.m., a member of the public spotted the abandoned car and contacted the local police. It was in a stand of trees off the single-lane rural road that made up one of the routes. Once the Air Force designation on the vehicle was seen, the AF was informed and the car checked out. It was quickly identified as the missing vehicle that had been transporting Saul Kaplan.
Air Force Sergeant Steven Kessler’s body lay half out of his driver’s seat, the door open. He had been shot in the head. A single bullet, later identified as a 9 mm, had been fired into the back of his skull.
The rear door of the car was open, as well. Saul Kaplan was missing. As was the briefcase that he always carried with him.
*