Back to the Moon Read Online Free PDF

rich, heady. Jack took a deep breath. He loved Cedar Key, a bountiful treasure of nature. He had chosen the remote Florida island as the site for his plant because of its isolation. He could hear in the distance the plaintive call of a loon. The Key was a nature preserve, only the old airport where he’d built his company zoned for industrial commerce. Bird watchers the world over came to the island. Fishermen crowded in for saltwater fishing at its best, at all times of the year. A single narrow bridge was all that connected Cedar Key to the Florida mainland.
    Jack stepped off the stoop and was surprised to find a big recreational vehicle facing him. He glanced toward the perimeter fence. Virgil had left the gate open, as was common when someone else was following close behind. The RV’s lights went on, blinding him. “Hey, mister,” an unfamiliar voice called out. “You got any idea where we are?” A man walked out of the glaring light. He was short and stout, had a walruslike mustache, and was wearing a bright yellow shirt and creased tan slacks. He was holding a sheet of paper.
    Jack shielded his eyes with his hands. “This is a restricted area,” he said. “You need to leave.”
    The man waved back at the RV. Jack could see several shadowy figures standing alongside it. “Sorry, mister. We saw the gate open and the lights. We’re fishermen and we’re lost. You got any idea how to get to Stevenson’s Fish Camp? I got a map here.”
    The man appeared innocent but the road was clearly marked as leading to the old airport. If they had ignored the signs, they had to be not only lost but stupid too. “Never heard of the place,” Jack said. “If you’ll go back through the gate, turn left, that’ll take you into town. You can ask there.”
    â€œWhy don’t you just look at the map, mister? I think we’re way off here.”
    The man approached. Jack thought about going back inside, but that would have required entering the code. “Look, fellows, this is a restricted industrial plant. Go into town, ask there.”
    â€œYou know, you’re not an accommodating fellow, Mr. Medaris,” the man said, smiling. “I’ve decided to Milli Vanilli your ass.”
    â€œWhat?”
He knows my name.
Jack was startled by the sound of heavy boots pounding on the asphalt. He didn’t have time to react. Someone big, dressed in black, came out of the lights, tackled him, knocked him down, and fell on top of him. Jack landed on his back, his head hitting the concrete stoop. Everything dimmed. He struggled for consciousness. He grabbed the man, pulled at his arm, felt something give way. It was a patch on his shoulder, a piece of black Velcro. There was a flash of gold letters, just for an instant.
Puckett Security Services.
Then he felt himself being rolled over, his hands jerked behind him. Something hot dripped down his neck. Handcuffs clicked shut on his wrists.
    â€œCut the wires, all of ’em,” somebody said.
    Jack was blearily aware of men running past him, battering at the door. He heard it tear from its hinges. There was no alarm. The man in the yellow shirt knelt beside him. “Milli Vanilli means I pretended to kick your ass while somebody more qualified did the work.” He laughed and then abruptly turned deadly serious. “Take him inside.”
    Jack was ruthlessly jerked by his wrists, pushed into the hangar, through the doors, all hanging from their hinges. Two men, dressed in black fatigues, clustered at the clean-room door. The yellow-shirted man walked in front of Jack. “The lander in there?”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s a clean room. We use it to inspect our pumps.”
    Using a flashlight, the man peered inside,
Prometheus
glittering in the spot of his light like a giant tin man. “Doesn’t look like a pump to me, Mr.