Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [15]
"I never went out with you because you never asked," Dani replied with a sly smile.
The banter was interrupted when the airman's laptop beeped three times in quick succession. Dr. Reed watched over the Corporal's shoulder as the blip drifted off the grid map and vanished from the screen. A moment later Stratowski tapped a key and shut down the computer.
"All clear, Dr. Reed. Your team can proceed."
Dr. Reed sighed. "Finally."
Heels clicking on the concrete, she strutted across the hangar and punched a red button on the doorjamb. A warning siren wailed, reverberating deafeningly throughout the massive hangar — the signal that nap time was over. With a metallic clatter, the massive steel door began to rise, filling the dim interior of the hangar with bright sunlight and waves of oppressive heat.
After ten seconds, the warning siren went mute. Several young airmen, yawning and stretching, emerged from a tangle of packing crates. A young Hispanic woman in overalls climbed aboard the tow tractor, and the engine roared to life in a cloud of blue smoke. Rumbling, the tractor lurched forward, dragging an aluminum tow platform containing the microwave emissions array.
A split-second later, the tow tractor abruptly braked, tires squealing. Carried by momentum, the tow platform continued forward, colliding with the rear of the tow vehicle. The jolt rattled the sensitive microwave emitter strapped to the platform. Cries of alarm erupted from the research team and Dr. Bascomb cursed. Sable threw his Styrofoam cup to the ground and Beverly Chang took a step backwards, blinking in surprise.
Dr. Megan Reed went ballistic.
"What the hell is that... that thing blocking the door?" she cried. Reed pointed to a ten foot steel pole set in a concrete filled tire. A volleyball dangled from a long rope hooked to the top.
"It's a tetherball post," Corporal Stratowski declared.
"I know what it is," Dr. Reed said. "I want to know who owns it."
"It belongs to Antonio — I mean, Dr. Alvarez." Dani Welles regretted speaking before the words were out of her mouth.
"I should have known," muttered Dr. Reed. She looked around for the guilty party, but saw no sign of the project's energy system programmer. She shouted out in a voice that rivaled the decibel level of the warning siren.
"Alvarez, where the hell are you?"
"Yo!" came the call from the back of the hangar. Dr. Antonio Alvarez stuck his head out of the interior of a malfunctioning electrical generator.
"Front and center, now!" Dr. Reed commanded.
Alvarez hurried forward, a power coupler in one hand, the end of a long electrical cable in the other. The wire in his hand unwound until it reached its limit, nearly jerking him off his feet. With an embarrassed frown, Alvarez dropped the cable and tossed the power coupler onto a crate. Standing before Dr. Reed, he wiped his greasy hands on his white lab coat.
"You called?"
Dr. Reed stared at the newest member of her team. She'd known many "eccentric" scientists and researchers in her day, but few were as clueless as Dr. Alvarez. She studied the man, from the dark tangle of his unkempt hair; black, thick-framed glasses; and perpetual five o'clock stubble; all the way down to the baggy, oversized sweatpants.
If Dr. Reed applied some of the considerable powers of observation she used for her research, she might have noticed that Alvarez was as tall as she was — a fact disguised by his submissive demeanor and perpetually slumped shoulders. Also masked was the man's muscular, former-Marine physique, his strong shoulders and arms strategically camouflaged by a lab coat two sizes too big.
"Does