He walked over slowly toward the row of trailers where the crew was staying. Nestled in there somewhere was Rollie Tyler. He waited, watching as people left their trailers a few at a time until finally, he spied Rollie walking up toward the catering table. He moved up against the chain link fence and whistled, waiting for Rollie to see him. Rollie's head jerked up and he looked to the direction of the whistle and saw Michael.
He turned around, looking to see who else had heard the whistle or the man that was waiting on the other side of the fence but most people were getting their morning coffee and barely breathing at this moment.
"Guday, Michael..or should I say, David…you rang?" Rollie greeted him, looking at him rather whimsically.
"Yeah, well- your wife denied my existence a little while ago," Michael replied, annoyed.
"She's like that, you know. I can't control her. Try as I may, it only backfires…" Rollie replied, babbling on in small talk as Michael gripped the chain link and interrupted him.
"Rollie, are you going to be on the Island tonight? Are you shooting there tonight?"
"What? No, no night shooting until umm, Thursday, why?"
"Gotta retrieve something under the arsenal holds. Don't want a movie crew getting in my way, that's all."
"I knew it! I knew there was more to this! So, another spying adventure? I thought you were free and clear of this?" Rollie shook his head. Michael never changed.
"I am. No one knows who I am and I am going to make sure they never even try to follow-up my death. It's standard procedure to bug phones and read mail and wire-tap family and friends just for this reason- a faked death."
"So, what is it that is under that old castle out there on the Island that will sew this all up for you, mate? Is that where they buried Jimmy Hoffa or something?"
"Could be, but I think he's in a lot more pieces, Rollie- seriously, I am not asking for your help, okay? Just needed to know when you guys would be there and when you would be through. I have a little digging to do."
Rollie's eye's sparkled slightly at the mention of 'a little digging'. He was a bit bored with Angie being the lead F/X artist. Maybe he needed a little adventure after all, besides, what Angie didn't know…"
"Hey, Michael- I have some free time on my hands, you know. I wouldn't be opposed to helping you out a bit? Need some extra digging power?" Rollie asked, as Michael grinned. He knew Rollie like the back of his own hand.
"Yeah, sure…as long as Angie doesn't get pissed off. She is still smarting from Costa Rica," Michael replied, smiling.
"No problem there, just won't tell her. I can tell her I am playing cards or something with the crew later tonight or something. No big deal."
"And so it begins," Michael chided him, "lying to the old ball and chain, next thing you know, the affairs will start and then, hey- you be right here on the same side of the fence as me."
Rollie didn't like the tone or the comments Michael had just made as he contemplated his response;
"I love Angie, Michael. Get that through your head, okay? I just have the time on my hands, and yes- she doesn't like you, mate, so it is better that I just omit the reason for my night work, okay?"
"Sure, sure- I got the picture. Look, meet me at the dock up a mile beyond that bend over there around ten tonight, okay? Michael replied, and started to step away from the fence.
"No problem, see you then," Rollie replied, as he heard his name being called. He turned around for a second and saw Angie standing in the catering line. He waved and turned back to Michael but he was gone as if he had just disappeared into thin air.
He shivered slightly, putting his hands in his pockets and walked back over to join Angie for breakfast.
After a full day's shoot and clean gags, Angie propped her feet up in the F/X van and e-mailed Lucinda. She decided she would go ahead and spill the news to her about being pregnant. She was starting to fantasize about the baby now, what it would look like…how she would be, and how Rollie would be as a father. She looked at herself in the reflection of the monitor screen and then, pictured Rollie's face. Interesting combination of genes, she told herself. After thinking about how the baby would look physically, the only thing she could come up with that would be a definite was that the baby wouldn't have red hair and that's about it. She laughed at her own silly thoughts. She told herself she was getting too preoccupied with this stuff and not her job. She went back to the business at hand, working on the next day's gag sequences.
"Hey there, wondered where you had got off to…" Rollie said, stepping up into the van.
"Right here, hard at work, Rol. But I am loving it, you know!" she replied, grinning as he came up and kissed the top of her head.
"You do have a glow about you, sweetie. Sorry I have been so hardheaded about all this stuff and the shoots on the Island. I guess I just didn't realize how important or you know, how it makes you feel. I remember when Manny let me take over for the first time. It was great!"
She looked into his eyes, this Rollie Tyler that she loved so much and put her hand under his chin; "so, where are you going tonight? Because, I know that look and I would guess, a card game or some other sort of shenanigans, am I right?"
He smiled, acting surprised, "You're good, love. Yeah, was thinking about joining Kyle and the other mates for a little poker, you know."
Angie smiled and tousled his hair; "Don't lose the business tonight, okay?"
"What? Nooo, I am the best. I might get an old vintage stock car out of it, though," he replied.
"No Rol, no one wants Kyle's old clunker, please don't even bet on that, okay?"
"Alright, I won't. Maybe that's what I'll do next, race car driving. You can take over the biz and I'll do the circuit, eh?"
Angie rolled her eyes and stood up as did he from his stooping position; "Don't lose our shirts, okay- and one more thing, Rollie?"
He looked down at her, smiling; "What?"
"I hope that Michael Sanchez is not invited to this game, because if you've invited him, you are going to lose everything," she warned him and he felt that shiver again with her words. He didn't know what to say now because then he would feel the guilt of lying to her even more.
He just grinned and shook his head; "Gotta go! See you in a couple of hours!" He kissed her quickly and she sighed;
"More like about eight hours," she said as she watched him almost run out of the van.
There was the beep from her computer, telling her there was an incoming message and she smiled as she opened up her email, seeing Lucinda's happy response to her news.
Rollie waited in the dark, no lights around at the old dock where Michael had told him to meet him. The night air had a chill to it as Rollie heard the leaves rustling around his feet and he clutched his jacket around his neck, pacing slightly. He could see nothing beyond the lights on the distant shore of the Hudson, faintly at best. Pollepel was not visible.
"Hey!"
Rollie jumped slightly as he then recognized Michael's voice from behind him.
"How are we getting out there?" Rollie asked as Michael passed him and started crawling down beside the pier near the rocks.
"Over here, a canoe…we paddle in very carefully. The currents are very tricky."
"Great!" Rollie joined him, assisting him with pulling the canoe out of its hiding place. Michael had brought shovels, flashlights, and a backpack. What Rollie also saw the glint of metal inside his jacket. He was armed.
"You expected someone?" Rollie asked, pointing to the weapon.
"I sleep with it, okay? Habit, and hard to get out of it," Michael responded as he jumped in the canoe, taking the paddle in hand and handing Rollie one.
"Bet that makes for some interesting chats at the water cooler in the office," Rollie remarked, shaking his head.
"You rudder, okay?" Michael replied, changing the subject, his voice serious and deep.
"The water that bad?" Rollie asked, as they made their way to Pollepel.
"Yeah, that bad! Pay attention, okay? We have to come in from the North, that's the only way and ride the current in at an angle so be ready."
"I aye!" Rollie replied, holding his paddle straight down as instructed.
They could dimly make out the darkened edge of the island now, after paddling some thousand yards toward it. True to his word, Michael took the northern approach and busily began paddling inward now, telling Rollie to steer right which he had a hard time holding the paddle still at the angle. The water seemed to be churning beneath them. He almost felt they had gotten into a small eddy as the canoe suddenly went spinning around and he gritted his teeth and held fast, the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensing and burning.
He thought he heard a sound, like a low humming noise and then there was nothing, the current smoothed out and suddenly the water was still and lapping softly against the rocky shoreline of Pollepel.
"Blood hell! That was something!" he exclaimed, as Michael smiled, and jumped out, Rollie following. They made their way up the side of the northern face of Pollepel, their flashlights darting like fireflies from the shore. Rollie followed, amazed at Michael's agile footing and direction. The shovels were heavy that he carried. Michael's pack looked empty. They made it to the Castle gate and walked across the gate into the main hall. Rollie could see the distant lights of the location encampment south of Pollepel and he had a momentary wish to be there warm and with Angie.
"Come on, down here," Michael told him, and he followed him down the steps of the front parapet, starting to smell the dank, musty smell of decay and neglect. Their lights flickered in a large room. There were crates that had been shattered, unopened ones and a mass of empty shell casings on the floor. Several looked as if they had detonated in the burned out room. Michael motioned for him to follow him so he did. They went further into the armory and then came to another door. Seeing that the lock had been sheared off already, Rollie knew that Michael had made it through here before. He followed, now in a long hallway where there were large cracks and holes in the walls. He could hear what he thought was running water from somewhere.
"Over here, we have to go down this shaft," Michael told him, stopping suddenly.
"What? You've already been down there?" Rollie said, taking the light and shining it down the dark hole.
"Nope, but this is the E-Ticket, my friend. At the bottom of this, we start digging," Michael replied, grinning.
"You sure there is a bottom?"
"If my calculations were right, yes."
"If they were right?"
"Come on, I'll go first," Michael offered, and pulled out a rope, tying one end around himself and driving a steel pin into the edge of the shaft frame at the corner, tying the other end to the pin securely. He lowered himself down and disappeared as Rollie waited.
"Pull up the rope, come on down! I'm alive!" Michael shouted from below.
Rollie followed, the hair on the back of his neck slightly raised as he found himself finally standing on solid granite ground in an underground tunnel. He shook his head at Michael;
"This stuff and the walls are solid rock! No shovel is going to go through this!"
"It doesn't have to, come on!"
Rollie followed, as Michael took the lead, bringing out his computerized map, checking it with his flashlight; "We take this right here, and about ten feet from here and …"
He had stopped. Rollie could see he had put his flashlight on a mound of metal and dirt and debris. What he didn't expect to see was a skeleton, or part of one, a hand, and arm underneath the debris.
"What's this, Michael? What is this place?"
Michael turned around to him as Rollie shone his flashlight in his face.
"This is the door to the beginning, Rollie. This is where the OSS set up their bunker. This is where the CIA was born."
"Get real! OSS, what's that?"
"Office of Strategic Services, Rollie. The parent of CIA, 1947 was when Truman directed the CIA to be formed. We are heading into the last known bunker with all the files, the beginning of the OSS. I need some of those files, Rollie. With them, I have what I need to get the surveillance off Mira, Toya and his cronies in check and yeah, my revenge."
"You're crazy, Michael. What makes you think that stuff hasn't rotted or been destroyed. Look at this place. For God's sake, it was abandoned when? In 1947?"
"Oh no, I am sure it continued operations until around the fire. That was a raid on this bunker anyway, masked as the Bannerman's arsenal going up in flames. It was the operations group that I was in that launched the attack against the bunker."
"Wait, you attack your own?"
"Not mine! Not ever- don't forget that Rollie! I wasn't exactly hired or wanted to be in it, I was taken and held and did as I was told. You can never understand what I went through, forget it. We are wasting time. I have to get through this stuff and get inside."
"A splinter group, CIA, OSS, what else?" Rollie replied, totally confused. He was glad he worked F/X and that Michael's complicated life was just that, his and not Rollie Tyler's.
They pulled out the shovels and began to dig out the explosion debris and rocks that could be moved by hand. Slowly, and exhaustingly, they had made some progress. Enough to see the sealed glass or what looked like glass partition that was still standing intact.
"Whoa, they have an intact bubble shield here, can you believe it?" Michael exclaimed, smiling.
"What's it made out of it, it survived an explosion?" Rollie asked, touching it with his hand.
"Explosion proof, a plastic polymer that the CIA used in the early sixties."
"How are we going to get through it?"
Michael pulled out his sack and dug through the bottom of it, pulling out what looked like a long wand with a laser probe attached.
"We use this," Michael responded, aiming the beam of light from the wand to the edge of one side of the clear protective sheet. There was the popping and cracking of the plastic immediately and suddenly a blast of air, cracked the shields, cracking the plastic polymer from the inside out, sending shards of plastic out as Rollie and Michael ducked.
"Whew, room under pressure, I would say," Michael replied, shaking bits of plastic from his hair and clothes.
Rollie did the same and they crept through the now gaping hole of the shield and entered the bunker for the first time since 1969 when the explosion that caused the cave-in and collapse of the tunnel, had covered the entrance of the bunker.
Michael walked over and looking at his map, flashed the light on a panel near the entrance. Opening it, he reset the emergency power switch and suddenly, they were standing in a brilliantly lit workroom station. The computers were enormous with the tapes on huge reels. As Rollie marveled at the pristine state of technology of the CIA in 1969, Michael went directly to several operating buttons on a console. He systematically went through them all as he kept trying a certain combination, waiting.
"What are you doing?" Rollie asked, looking around, still marveling at the place.
"Getting those files. Look around and see if anything is opening back there," Michael replied, and pointed to an area of file drawers in the wall that looked like morgue drawers. There were built into the wall and as Rollie tried to open one, he could see that they were electronically sealed.
"I was told that this was the combination, it's not working," Michael exclaimed, his anger apparent as he slammed the combination in again.
"Maybe there's a jam, with the explosion and all, maybe there was a burn-out in circuitry somewhere. Rollie pulled up the console board with the edge of his trusty driver he kept on his belt and looked at the multitude of wires and for 1969, cutting edge circuitry. There were no tubes and he smiled, thinking how the operators at the time probably were thinking how they were in the space age with this console. He played around with some of the wiring and as Michael showed him the combination sequence again, Rollie testing the wiring connections. He got a zap on the last button and quickly pulled out his pliers stripping the edge of wiring and splicing to a new connection.
"That was hot, I definitely feel like a new man," Rollie said, feeling a little buzz from the voltage that had run through his fingers, "try it now."
Michael hit the combination again, and suddenly the drawers opened;
"Bingo!"
"Exactly," Rollie replied, as they both went over to see what the concealed files held.
"Perfect, not a day older!" Michael said, shuffling through them and going specifically into the "T" section and then into several other sections, pulling files with a grin as wide as his face," I feel like a kid in a candy store!"
"Yeah, well- I have one question here, Michael. Wouldn't there be some sort of back up alarm for break-ins?"
"Yep," Michael replied, without even looking at him, "and that's why we have to get the hell out of here now!"
"What?"
"Yeah, we have about 10 minutes, I would say."
Rollie looked at him with a mixture of anger and shock.
"Whose coming?"
"Well, probably both CIA and my old operations group. Both would want to deny existence of this place and both would want the files protected or destroyed. So…"
"Let's get out of here, you bastard!" Rollie exclaimed as Michael smiled again.
"Yeah, same old Rollie- no fun when the shit hits the fan!"
Rollie ran out of the bunker, Michael stuffing files in his backpack and following. As Rollie grabbed the rope to pull himself up through the shaft, Michael waited at the bottom and breathed deeply. He had what he needed and smiled. He looked up at the dangling rope and started to grab it when he heard voices from above. There was a sound of a scuffle and then he knew. He looked wildly around him, looking for a place to hide. He took the other tunnel, going left away from the bunker and stumbled in the run for escape, not knowing where he was going. He could hear the response team coming down the shaft and he turned off his flashlight, grasping the sides of the tunnel and making his way in the darkness. He could hear the muffled sounds of voices, shouting now and then nothing as he continued his flight. The tunnel seemed to never end as he felt it start to rise, as if on an incline. He advanced, his mind racing as to where he would finally end up. He didn't care anymore, but the fact that they probably had Rollie was disconcerting.
A flash of something with a light bobbed in the distance. He quickened his pace and moved toward it. The muscles in his calves ached as he climbed further up and suddenly took in the lights in a shimmering display through a window that was in the top of a door. He tried opening it but it was locked securely. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the laser wand and hit the lock from the inside with a beam of light. The door popped open and a rush of air hit him as he stepped out into the cool night air. He was less than 100 yards from the movie encampment fence on the east side. As he turned around amazed, he could see he had exited what was labeled as Yonkers Pump Station, No. 7. He shut the door and re-fused the lock with the laser. He walked without incident back to his car and threw the sack in the passenger seat, letting out a held breath of relief.
Angie paced in the trailer. It was three in the morning and no Rollie. There had been no card game. She had found that out over two hours ago when she had knocked on Kyle's door and found him asleep and a bit miffed at waking him. Why had Rollie lied to her and where was he? She was so angry and at the same time, an undeniable fear had begun to chill her deep inside.
He woke up in a room of intense light. Rollie couldn't even see his own hands, his eyes having absorbed so much of the light he was blind. He lashed out, finding himself in a small room of less than four feet square. He screamed out, calling for anyone but no one answered.