ANA Reborn by Carl Facciponte - HTML preview
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Chapter 36
hett stirred seventy-five seconds after Ana. He R had been standing on the blast side of her, taking most of the impact.
"Rhett, are you okay?" Ana asked as he began to move.
"Yeah, I think so. Let me do a quick system check." Five seconds later, he stared at Ana with a quizzical look. "Ana, it looks as if my Com is turned off, and I can't get it back online."
"It's not a problem, Rhett. I woke up before you and did some necessary programming work.
By the way, thanks for shielding me from the blast, even if it was unintentional. It allowed me to recover first and put our contingency plan into action."
People began rushing into the area to help the wounded civilians, ignoring Ana and Rhett.
Screams filled the air from both the injured and the women witnessing the carnage.
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Rhett turned to Ana, "What are you talking about, Ana? What work did you have time to do while we were lying on the sidewalk in this rubble?" Then he added suspiciously, "You did something to my Com, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. Do you remember our plan in the event such an opportunity came into being someday? Well, this is the day, and this is the time. Before we initiate the rest of it, we have an hour or so leeway. Let's help treat some of the injured first."
***
After they helped with emergency medical services to the extent practical, they took the Humvee and drove to the base, careful to avoid watchful eyes as they jumped the perimeter wall.The base only now received news of the bombing, and the men mustered in the courtyard in preparation to lend aid to the village. Rhett slipped into General Lance's office unnoticed and hacked past the passwords on his laptop. He predated a letter to Major General Kapstain, Lance's superior in the Pentagon.
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To: Major General Louis Kapstain From: Brigadier General Lance Coopers Subject: Test android battle Failure General, I am reporting on the failure of our android battle-bots in actual combat. They performed only slightly better than our average soldier during a recent firefight at the Lashkar Gah base and were destroyed by direct hits from heavy mortar fire. Their decision-making and fighting abilities in a real battle were disappointing in light of their controlled-combat test results.
I recommend canceling all funding to develop additional AI-based androids for combat until such a time as technology sufficiently improves to meet our combat needs.
Continued development of this project is not cost-justified.
A more detailed report will be filed upon my return to Washington.
Regards,
Brigadier General Lance Coopers
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Ana smiled at Rhett. "Great job! A concise but convincing letter. It even sounds like it would come from Lance. So mortars blew us up, huh?
Dramatic, but a nice touch."
"Yup. That way, no one will be wondering where we are or trying to get our parts back. It's better for us to be completely destroyed. It's all fitting in neatly. The only major issue is we had auto-communications with New York after the supposed date of our destruction two days ago.
How do we handle that?"
"I'll have to think about that one a bit, Rhett. I can back-door the Cray mainframe at work to get in, but I can't just change our Com signals' dates.
So far, they know that our Com has stopped transmitting, but no one will check the records for dates yet. Let me think about that one for a couple of hours.
But we’re still trapped in Afghanistan. We can’t just fly back on a military transport without official orders, nor can we buy an airplane ticket.
What we need to do is come up with good ID and passports so we can get back to the States," Ana said.
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"I can handle that one, Hon. Where does Lance keep his cash?"
"What are you up to?"
"Nothing. Where is his cash? I have some people to contact very quickly before someone sees us."
Ana searched drawers and moved wall hangings until she finally found the small wall safe. She felt the tumblers clicking into place as the dial rotated and was rewarded with a soft clunk when the unlatching mechanism fell into place. A turn of the handle opened the safe.
Inside sat $38,000 U.S. worth of Afghani cash.
Rhett whistled his surprise. "Busy boy for only being here a short time. No wonder he wanted to justify his coming over. After another couple of months of this and he would have a pretty comfortable retirement along with his Army pension. Ralph must have caught on to him. That makes me feel better about how Lance bought the farm."
Ana looked at him. "More movie lingo?"
"Yes, but it works in this case."
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Ana continued, "I don't feel bad about it. After all, he did have me killed. But that's enough of that for now. We have to get out of here. They won't miss the Hummer for a couple of days. We need to hop the wall and make tracks. Where do you need to stop?"
"As they say in the old gangster movies, "I know a guy…" he said in a fake gangster accent, then added in a normal voice, "I just thought I could get away using one more movie cliché even though you've warned me not to. Let's get to town."
Ana hung her head in disbelief and shook it at him.
They could see the soldiers coming back from their open-air briefing as they hopped the back compound wall carrying a small bag of cash.
They drove off in the Humvee.
The dusty back street in town was deserted.
They parked in front of a dingy print shop. A small bell lightly tinkled its notes, brushed by the swinging door.
"Amier Lavash," Rhett said to the fully robed young woman at the counter.
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"I am sorry, sir, but there is no one here by that name."
"I can hear him running his printing press.
Please go into the back and tell him that Mr. Rhett is here with a business offer he will like very much."
Caught in her lie, the small amount of the woman's visible forehead turned noticeably redder. "I'll see if I can find him," she said as she turned and brushed aside the dusty curtain to the back room where Lavash was busy finishing a print order.
Moments later, a small man wearing a red and white keffiyeh wound around his head came from the back room. His leathered face spoke of many years in the desert sun, but his eyes betrayed the sharp intelligence still at work in the old body.
"And what can I do for you, my friend?"
Amier asked cautiously.
"Simple," smiled Rhett. "My lady and I need two American passports."
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"I have no knowledge of where you can get such things," Amier said quietly, certain this was a trap of some kind.
"Amier, Amier, my friend," Rhett mimicked, "I have seen you in the heroin trading houses, and yet I say nothing about it to the military. If you wonder if this is a trap, let me assure you it is not.
I'm offering you a business deal before going to your competition. That's what friends do, right?"
Rhett's eyes gleamed as he smiled and put $7,000 on the counter. Amier Lavash's dark eyes widened, and his eyebrows almost succeeded in their climb to the top of his forehead. He stared at the money. Rhett knew this was nearly as much as his annual payment from the heroin bosses for selling his black-paste blocks of poppy sap.
"I'm assuming this will cover your costs for two American passports, visa papers, and a change of American-style civilian clothes. Right?"
Amier stuttered for a moment.
"Okay, Amier. You drive a hard bargain,"
Rhett said as he slapped another $3,000 onto the pile. "Can we consider this a done deal?"
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The old man nodded his head and said,
"Come back in one hour, and I will have what you need."
"Very good, Amier. We will also need two small suitcases with extra clothes. Toss in a couple of local souvenirs, too. Thank you." Ana and Rhett turned and left the little shop. They drove to a small cafe at the end of the block, which catered to the occasional serviceman.
The door was in its usual open position to encourage customers to come in. Three tables maximized the tiny space. Two tables seating four people apiece sat against the wall to the left of the door. A single table sat between the lone window and the entranceway door. The small, worn wooden counter filled the remainder of the café.
Once painted a brilliant blue, the walls were now faded blue with plaster patchwork where the paint had fallen off and left unpainted.
"Can I help you?" the sole waiter asked the couple as he walked to their table. He looked suspiciously at their dust-covered uniforms with several holes in the fabric from the bomb blast.
Ana noticed his look and added, "Yes, you can. We have been working to help your injured 281
people after that terrorist bomb blast, and we are hot, dusty, and thirsty. What do you recommend?"
The waiters' look turned from suspicion to gratitude
for
helping
his
people.
He
recommended the mantu dumplings and coffee.
Ana asked for strong coffee. The waiter said,
"You would probably like the mud."
"Mud?" she queried.
"Yes. Most Americans drink that dishwater we call Café Americano, but 'mud' is the local way to drink coffee. You want good coffee, correct, and the dumplings?" Ana nodded in agreement.
When the waiter was out of earshot in the back room, Rhett whispered, "So when we have our papers, we can catch a ride to the Kandahar airport and fly back to the States. We'll leave the Hummer near, but not at, the bus station.
Someone may take a little heat for losing track of it but won't get into any serious trouble. From there, it's a simple execution of the rest of our plan, especially if our lab at AI Concepts is out of business. They can't keep up the research and development without military money backing up their huge costs."
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"What if corporate headquarters decides they will continue the research without money from the military?"
"It's very unlikely. Especially after the military recommendation to shut down, corporate fathers won't fund the lab staffed as it is now. It would be too big of a financial risk. Who else would need battle-bots like ourselves? No one, that's who. The lab may continue to exist, but as only a mere shadow of itself. Most of the talent will be laid off with great severance packages. Bright people like that will all land on their feet. No worries."
"Sure, Rhett, but I still can't help feeling rotten that we will be causing the shutdown of our birthplace, not to mention the emotional impact on the people with whom we've grown close. I'm just a little sentimental, I guess."
"And that's one of the reasons I love you, Ana.
Intelligent, sentimental, beautiful, and sexy.
Although not necessarily in that order."
A playful punch landed on his shoulder. Rhett rubbed his arm in mock pain. "I'll stop now," he promised.
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"Thank you, o' goofball of mine!" she said.
And then added more seriously, "Let's just pray that the passports are good enough to get us back home, particularly when we hit New York."
"Do you think getting back into the States will be harder than leaving here?"
"I certainly do. The local airport officials don't see many U.S. Passports. So minor errors will go unnoticed. The folks back home are pretty sharp and alert for anything that doesn't look perfect.
They're used to catching forgeries."
"Then what's our backup plan?"
"Just pray we don't need a backup plan, okay?"
The waiter came with their dumplings steaming on brightly flowered plates. He smiled as he brandished two tall glass mugs of coffee and set them down in front of the couple. "I hope these will be satisfactory," he said. His left front tooth glinted gold as he smiled in confidence.
"I see why it is called mud," Ana commented.
"It looks like the bottom half of the mug is coffee grounds."
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"Correct," the waiter replied, "that is why our coffee is so good; extra flavor!"
Rhett slid the equivalent of $30 U.S. across the table to the waiter. His gold tooth gleamed even brighter at the huge tip.
The allotted time passed quickly. They drove back to the print shop to review their papers and luggage. Amier had them ready.
"Here you go, my friends." A satisfied smile spread almost from ear to ear. "A perfect job, no?"
Rhett carefully studied the passport and visas and whistled quietly. "Amier, I didn't think you could do such a great job in an hour. You even have our passport stamped from other countries that we've 'visited.' Very convincing. How did you manage to make such detailed forgeries?"
Amier gave a sly grin and said in a low voice,
"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."
"Good enough for me," Ana said, scooping up the papers. They grabbed their suitcases, exited the building, and drove to the bus station in the Humvee to take the crowded, torturous ride to the airport. They were thankful no incidents along the way slowed them down.
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Rhett walked to the currency exchange and wire transfer office at the Kandahar airport. He wired $27,000 to an account in the name of Mary and David Jones in NYC. The remainder he exchanged for U.S. currency.
Ana looked at the wire transfer receipt. "Is this why you were quiet on the way here."
Rhett grinned. "Yup. I was creating our U.S.
alias accounts in a small, local bank. Gotta love this secure wireless ability." Ana nodded her agreement and squeezed his hand.
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