The Black Ships by A.G. Claymore Read Free Book Online Page A

the VP of Ops, smirking
at him but he had bigger problems at the moment than Grant. What the hell
would the military want with me? And what’s with the cop?   
    As if in answer, the detective spoke up. “I
realize this is very unusual but we have been tasked by the highest authority
to ensure that Mr. Bender is located and delivered to Miami International
immediately.” His gaze slipped from Howard to follow Grant’s confused stare.
The VP of Ops no longer looked quite so smug, but he still couldn’t tear his
eyes away from Frank. “Mr. Bender?” the detective asked.
    Screw it, anything beats apologizing to
that jackass . “I’m Frank Bender,” he acknowledged.
“What exactly is going on here?”
    The cop shrugged looking over at the Air
Force captain who answered. “Mr. Bender, I can’t tell you much. Your presence
is urgently required and we have been tasked with delivering you.”
    Can’t tell me because it’s classified or
just because you don’t know? Frank looked over at
Howard who merely shrugged helplessly. At least ‘presence is required’
sounds better than ‘we’ve come to lock your ass up’. He looked up at the
captain. “I think you have the wrong man; I just build cruise ships.”
    The detective pulled out a notebook and
flipped it open. “Frank Philip Bender?” He looked up to see Frank nod before
continuing. “Born March 18 th , 1984, son of Captain Samuel Bender,
USN Deceased?”
    Frank nodded slowly. This just keeps
getting stranger, but they seem pretty sure I’m their guy. He was unable to
keep the troubled look from his face as a new thought occurred to him.  Is
the cop here to reassure me that this is legit, or is he here  to make
sure I come? He stood. “Well, I still think you have the wrong guy here,
but let’s go.”
    The ride down the Dolphin Expressway did
little to settle his mind. There were no other vehicles on the westbound lanes.
Every on-ramp had a patrol car with flashing lights to turn drivers away. They
reached Le Jeune in minutes where they turned the wrong way at the 30 th street intersection, driving over the curb and up to a fence where a platoon of
soldiers stood guard over a temporary opening. To Frank’s surprise they drove
right through and onto the tarmac of Miami International after crossing over a
rough patch of dead grass.
    The vehicle headed right, pulling up to a
fighter jet. Frank, whose father had served as a naval aviator recognized the
F-22 raptor. The detective followed the parking signals of an armed soldier and
shut off the engine. “Well gentlemen, I believe this is the end of my
involvement in this bullshit.” He turned in his seat to look at Frank as the
captain stepped out of the passenger side. “Mr. Bender, I have no idea what
you’ve been dragged into, but best of luck.” He grinned and turned to face out
the windshield.
    An airman pulled the door open and beckoned
Frank out, handing him a flight suit.
    Now, sitting in the Danish chair, still in
the flight suit, Frank looked up at the row of portraits. He assumed they must
be the previous Secretary Generals. Or is it Secretaries General? He
stood and walked over to the first portrait. Might as well see the sights
while I’m here , he mused as he leaned over to read the engraved brass inset
at the bottom of the photo. Gladwn Jeb,  he raised his eyes to scan
the photo but noticed his reflection where the man’s dark suit gave the glazing
an almost mirror-like quality.
    Shit! he
thought in mild alarm. The experience of flying at more than two times the
speed of sound was thrilling but stressful and his hair was a sweaty mess
plastered to his head like a huge dead spider. He tried running his hands
through his hair to at least get it off his scalp but it just dropped right
back down again.
    He looked around in desperation, spotting a
fabric runner under a floral arrangement on a corner table. He pulled it from
under the vase and began to rub it on his hair to wick up as much