The New Adventures of the Eagle Page 3

  The latest weapon in the American war effort was being developed in stages. Seven different installations were responsible for certain components that, in and of themselves were quite harmless, but once assembled, they were rumored to be quite formidable.

  The saboteur’s superiors were adamant that they gain control of the components and smuggle them to Berlin where they could be studied and eventually assembled. The American’s weapon could be turned against them and their allies.

  If the components were found to be non-recoverable, the saboteur had secondary instructions to destroy it at all costs. If the Nazi Party could not have the weapon then no one could.

  So far the mission was a success. Five pieces of the puzzle were tucked safely away from prying eyes as they awaited delivery to a submarine that was scheduled to be in the area later that week. At which time the saboteur would return to the Fatherland, welcomed as a hero of the party.

  The arrival of Jeff Rollin was an unexpected kink in the plan, but only a minor one at best. He had been poking around in places where he shouldn’t have been, and the constant barrage of questions told the saboteur that Jeff Rollin was not at all what he appeared to be. Then again, neither was the saboteur.

  Regardless of who or what Rollin was looking for, the next phase of the mission would go forward as planned. Timing was critical to the success of the mission, and if anyone, including Jeff Rollin, got in the way of the plan’s success… they would have to be eliminated.

  If Jeff Rollin got in the way then he would have to die.

  ***

  From the outside everything looked normal enough. The Eagle had learned long ago to never take anything at face value, especially buildings that housed top secret projects. No matter what the exterior looked like, its function was to convince you that there couldn’t possibly be anything of interest inside.

  The Johnson Filament Company was a perfect example. From the outside, it looked like every other modest two-story building that housed every other run of the mill business in the area. This far outside of Los Angeles, the buildings were not built as close as within the city limits. They had large lawns of lush green grass and trees dotting the landscape.

  Inside, the Johnson Filament building looked like something out of a science fiction movie or the lair of the vile villain in Curtis Allen’s latest movie. Since he was posing as a representative of the studio sent to audit the film’s budget and progress, he’d been given a copy of the latest script changes. In the original draft, the villain’s hideout was a tropical island. The latest revision changed the location to a factory building that was being dressed as a state of the art secret lair from which the villain would launch his dastardly plot against the very freedoms that the United States took for granted.

  The Eagle thought it ironic that the script mirrored some real life aspects, but nothing so similar as to draw attention to the film’s production team. Whoever was behind the sabotage plot was smart. The five previous attacks had been carried out right under the noses of the War Department. That took precision planning.

  But their time was up. They had never faced the Eagle before.

  The Eagle walked the perimeter of the building. Nothing looked out of place. From a cursory glance, it appeared that the Johnson Filament building was secure. Not surprising, really. He expected no less from a man of Everett Johnson’s skill and proficiency. Shannon hoped that when this mission was behind him, he might be able to squeeze in a lunch with his friend before heading off to his next assignment.

  Once he was satisfied that the building was secured he headed on to the factory set.

  In his guise as Jeff Rollin, the Eagle had full access to the set. All he had to do was flash his fake credentials to the guard at the security gate by the entrance and he was pointed toward the parking lot. He had arrived early, hours before the scheduled shoot just to get a lay of the land before the factory was filled with people.

  It was an easy walk from Johnson Filament to the factory, so he had parked his car at the set, signed in, and made sure a few people saw him there before slipping quietly out a side door undetected. Once outside he walked to the government building, sticking to the shadows to mask his presence. He thought he had made the trek undetected.

  He was wrong.

  ***

  The saboteur watched from the shadows.

  He stood on the opposite side of the street from Johnson Filament; a front company for the United States’ War Department. The man from the studio had asked a lot of questions, enough to get the saboteur’s guard up. Although it was possible that studio man’s early arrival and subsequent hike to the target building was purely coincidence. Possible, but highly unlikely.

  The saboteur had been following Jeff Rollin since he left the movie set the night before. It had seemed a prudent course of action. He had returned to a small apartment and settled in for the night, but bright and early he was on the move. He arrived at the factory location well before he needed to be there. It was also possible that his early visit to the factory set could be explained away as him simply doing his job. It wasn’t until the saboteur caught a glimpse of him moving away from the building that it all clicked into place and the saboteur’s suspicions were confirmed.

  Jeff Rollin was an American spy.

  Therefore, he had to die.

  ***

  Jeff Shannon was tired and hungry by the time he made it back to the factory set. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he saw the food being set out by craft services. At that moment his stomach started to rumble and reminded him that he had skipped breakfast in his haste to check out Johnson Filament. He made his way to the craft services table, which had been set up with finger foods, snacks, drinks, and other sugary goodies guaranteed to keep the crew going throughout the long day ahead. He was busy fixing himself a sandwich when a familiar voice caught his ear.

  “Mr. Rollin. Well, I see I’m not the only one working so early,” Jennifer Sterling said as she set her ever-present clipboard on the table next to the sodas.

  “Ah, Miss Sterling,” the Eagle said. “Mr. Allen keeps you hopping, doesn’t he?”

  She smiled. “No rest for the weary. At least not until we’ve wrapped filming up next week. And, please, it’s Jenny.”

  “Jenny it is then,” the Eagle said, returning her smile. “But, only as long as you remember to call me Jeff. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Is Mr. Allen here yet?”

  “No. It’s still a little early for him,” Sterling said. She leaned in close and dropped her voice. “I hate to admit it, but I think I get more work done when he’s not around. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Rollin said.

  She smiled sheepishly and turned away so he couldn’t see her blush.

  “Would you care to join me for a bite?” he asked and pointed toward an empty table nearby. Only a handful of the crew was at work this early handling set decoration, so the tables were empty.

  She seemed to think it over a bit, but then nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

  The table was far enough away from the work area that the sound of saws and hammers was not as pervasive so they could have a conversation.

  “So, what brings you all the way out here this early, Jeff?”

  “Just observing,” he said before popping half a sandwich wedge into his mouth. It was ham, which wasn’t his favorite, but after a morning without eating, it tasted mighty fine.

  “Anything I can help you with?” Sterling asked.

  “Nothing specific. Just checking out the set. I figured it would be easier to take a look around before it gets crowded in here.”

  “A smart plan,” she agreed. “This place will be packed with people in a couple of hours. Perhaps you’d like a tour? As soon as the sun starts to set there won’t be anything left of this place except a big pile of rubble to be carted off to the dump.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Of cour
se,” she said with a smile. “Come on. I’d be happy to walk you through the set up.”

  “That would be great, Jenny. Thanks,” the Eagle said. “But after we eat, okay? I’m starving.”

  ***

  The tour started on the ground floor and worked its way up to the tallest level.

  Jennifer Sterling knew the ins and outs of not only the set, but she knew the script forward and back. As Curtis Allen’s assistant, she sat in on various creative and business meetings, her trusty clipboard in hand to take notes. Of all of the people Jeff Shannon, posing as Jeff Rollin, had met while roaming the set, she was probably the only one that knew everything that was happening on the production.

  She peppered him with various facts about the movie production as well as the factory’s function in its former incarnation. She was a wealth of knowledge.

  “And this is the catwalk where our protagonist and antagonist will have their final face off during the climax of the story. They’ll have swords and parry back and forth up here, while explosions go off on the levels below them. We’ve placed directional explosives and gas bombs in the storage rooms on each level. When they go off we’ll have a nice fireball beneath them that will look really impressive, but won’t harm the building. That comes after we’ve cleared everyone out. That’s when we bring this thing down.”

  “I’m assuming the good guy wins,” the Eagle said with a smile as he looked over the edge. It was a long way down.

  “Well, it is a Hollywood motion picture, Mr. Rollin… excuse me, Jeff,” she said. “Unlike real life, the hero always wins in the movies.”

  “I’d like to think that happens in real life too,” he said, still smiling. “On occasion.”

  “But we both know that’s not the case, don’t we?”

  “You’re awfully young to be this cynical, Jenny.”

  “But I’m not wrong,” she said pointedly.

  “No. You’re not wrong.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  The smile remained, but the Eagle was starting to get a bad feeling. Although he had been trying to keep an open mind as to the identity of the enemy agent, he had fixated on Curtis Allen as the saboteur from the start, much as his contact had done. The thought that the director might have help was a given, but the one person he had never expected was sweet little Jenny Sterling.

  Which is what made it the perfect cover.

  And he had stepped right into her trap.

  If he hadn’t already pieced it together, the appearance of two men approaching them from opposite ends of the catwalk, each carrying a pistol aimed in his direction would have cinched it. He still wasn’t sure whether or not Curtis Allen was involved with the sabotage, but if he was, he wasn’t in charge. Jennifer Sterling was clearly holding the reigns.

  “I am such an idiot,” the Eagle said softly.

  Sterling smiled. “You are not the first to make this mistake, Mr. Rollin,” she said.

  “That doesn’t really make me feel any better,” he told her.

  “Who do you work for really?” Sterling asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not really,” she said and her mid-western drawl faded just a hint as her lackeys reached them. He had seen them both on set when Jenny was giving him the tour and had even been introduced to them, but he couldn’t recall their names. He was thinking it was Bob and Tom. Or something like that. Not that it mattered. He assumed that they were using aliases anyway. “Take him to the west side storage room one level down,” Sterling ordered. “It’s already been prepped.”

  The Eagle felt the barrel of a pistol jab into his back, a universal signal to start walking. No matter what language your villain spoke, a gun to the back crossed all language barriers.

  The Eagle took careful, even strides. On the fourth, he spun around, interlocked his leg with that of the man behind him, grabbed the man’s gun hand, and twisted. The gunman lost his grip on the pistol and his balance as well. The Eagle had him disarmed and facedown on the catwalk before the other two had even realized what was happening.

  Bringing the pistol up to his line of sight, the Eagle pointed it at the second gunman. “Ah, ah, ah, put it down,” he told the man before he could raise his gun.

  The thug bent at the knees and carefully placed the pistol on the grated floor. Just as he was about to release his grip on it, Jennifer Sterling made her move. Holding onto the railing for support, the saboteur in disguise kicked the pistol out of Jeff Shannon’s hand. It clattered to the metal floor.

  A second kick threw him back into the wall. Momentarily stunned, he was unable to avoid the attack by the thug who had been lowering his weapon. He slammed into the Eagle like a professional football player slamming into the opposing team’s defensive line.

  The Eagle brought up a knee into the man’s midsection, doubling him over. A fist to the jaw sent him sprawling to the catwalk floor. The Eagle spun around in anticipation of an attack from the first man he had dropped, who had already gotten back on his feet.

  The henchman smiled and the Eagle realized his mistake.

  Once again he had overlooked Jenny Sterling.

  Something hard slammed into the back of his head and suddenly the world was spinning around him. A second hit sent him toward the floor. He managed to twist and land on his back instead of his face. Above him, Jenny Sterling hefted her trusty metal clipboard. He was too groggy to block or dodge the hit.

  The last thing he saw was Jenny Sterling’s smile as she swung the clipboard directly at him.

  Then the lights went out.

  ***

  Jeff Shannon woke in darkness.

  His head ached, but so did the rest of him, so he figured that was normal. Pain meant that he was alive. The real mystery wasn’t so much where he was, but why Jennifer Sterling hadn’t simply killed him up on that catwalk. It certainly would have been much easier than dragging his unconscious form down to the storage locker where he assumed he was being kept. The smell of gasoline and freshly cut wood filled the room, which only confirmed his location.

  The room was primed to blow as soon as the cameras were rolling.

  Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious, which was a problem. He had no idea how long he had before this room was detonated.

  His hands were tied behind his back and his feet were also similarly bound. The room was dark. There were no windows and only one exit. The only light in the room was what little managed to peek in beneath the door.

  His first priority was getting out of this room before the explosives were triggered. The first step in that plan was getting out of the ropes. He stretched his arms taut and wiggled until they passed his butt. Then he pulled his legs through. His wrists were still bound together, but in front of him instead of behind his back. He untied the ropes at his feet and then used his teeth to loosen the ropes around his wrist. In less than a minute he was free of the ropes.

  The door was locked, which wasn’t really a surprise. The last thing Sterling would want was someone to walk in and find him unconscious and tied up. However, because of the impending detonation, she couldn’t post a guard on the door either. What he needed was a way to take down the door.

  That’s when he remembered that he was surrounded by explosives.

  The cannons used for movie explosions were simple affairs. Although they were nothing like bombs he’d had to disarm in the field, but they could still be deadly. One wrong slip could cause premature detonation and that might just end the Eagle’s career rather quickly. He removed the explosive charge and gently set it on the floor. The cannon was filled with wood chips, plaster, flour, and sawdust. It was designed to simulate flying debris from the explosion. It was a piece of trickery that looked good on film, but the charge itself wasn’t all that big. He dumped the debris onto the floor and placed a small amount of explosive next to the door’s lock and on each of the three hinges that fastened it to the wall. Using the wiring assembly from the cannon, he conn
ected the putty-like explosive. He set the detonator for five seconds then ran to the far side of the room and took cover. The plan was to keep the explosion small enough to only blow small holes in the door. He just hoped that they were small enough not to set off the gas fumes that filled the room.

  The counter clicked down slowly, five seconds stretching to infinity.

  Four small pops filled the room, adding the smell of burnt metal to the already stale air. The door still stood, but was no longed attached to the doorframe by anything more than a loose screw that still connected the upper door hinge to the wall. A single booted kick to the door sent it flying outward where it crashed against the bare concrete floor.

  The Eagle stepped out into the corridor and looked up. As he had suspected, Bob and Tom, or whatever their names were, had placed him right where Jenny Sterling had ordered. The small pop of the explosive on the door hadn’t caught anyone’s attention. He expected to see at least a few of the movie crew stationed nearby, but there was no one. He was alone on the level. That told him one very important thing.

  The explosion scene was imminent.

  There were only a few ways out. There were exits on the ground floor. He quickly ruled them out. He was on the fourth floor. By the time he reached the bottom it would be too late and the entire building could come down on top of him. The only other option was the fire escape off of the roof. The sign for the stairwell leading to the roof was at the end of the hall. He climbed one floor, taking the stairs two at a time.