Plot counterplot, p.36
Plot/Counterplot, page 36
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like this. At all.”
“But you’ll do it. Because you know I’m right. And like I said, if I need help, I’ll call.” But he knew that no circumstance on earth could ever make him call.
He turned her around and gave her a little push toward the fence. She kept walking, with obvious reluctance.
Good. Now he could proceed. Because, thanks to Leilani, he knew how to get inside. Through the back door. The one even Dylan and his handlers couldn’t know about. But thanks to Dr. Scheimer, Seamus did.
* * *
The entire firefight took less than a minute. The military guards were well-trained, but they were also outnumbered and outgunned.
As soon as the gunfire diminished, Dylan bolted toward the sandstone building. Xavier was helping Marco haul a corpse off the path. As he passed Xavier, Dylan yelled, “I’ll get the elevator started while you clean up.”
Dylan didn’t stop running, didn’t turn his head. He just listened. It took perhaps five seconds for Xavier to realize what he was doing. Then Dylan heard the thud. He’d dropped the corpse. He was running after Dylan.
Dylan hoped his daily beach runs would help. This wasn’t going to be a long distance race. He had to get to the elevator before Xavier did. His life depended on it. His life, and the lives of untold others.
He had not been able to train regularly since he joined the terrorists. But he knew how to push himself. He knew weakness was cowardice, and revolution required sacrifice. He knew how to energize every sinew and fiber.
He slammed into the elevator, sweat flying from his brow. He hit the down button. The doors opened. He entered.
Behind him, Xavier, perhaps fifty feet away, ran hard.
The doors began to close. Without stopping, Xavier pulled out his pistol and fired.
Dylan stepped to the side of the elevator. Bullets hit the back wall. But the doors still closed and the elevator descended.
As soon as the elevator arrived at the lower level, Dylan would disable it. He didn’t kid himself that he could prevent Xavier and his team from following, but he could make it more difficult. He could slow them down.
He just hoped that would be enough.
Chapter 80
The entrance to the back door was placed at a midpoint on the volcano wall. Unfortunately, the Navy removed the ladder when it shut down the project. Fortunately, Seamus was an experienced rock climber, another trick he picked up in Afghanistan. But volcano climbing was different. The primary material was basalt, which breaks off easily. He had to be careful.
He ran to the western wall. He knew the primary elements of any sheer ascent were balance and grip. Find a safe place to lodge your fingers and toes and don’t let go until you have a suitable replacement. And don’t fall backward. Because there’s no net.
He hooked his attaché to the back of his belt, hugged the volcano, and climbed.
Below, he heard a commotion. Glancing down, he saw someone racing toward the elevator shaft. He was certain it was Dylan Taggart, trying to get there first. Making his move, at long last.
All the more important that Seamus get in there as soon as possible. So he could help Dylan when he needed it.
The wall was warm and slippery. Seamus concentrated. He had to get in there as soon as possible.
So focus, he told himself, as he reached for higher ground. Climb. Like your life depended upon it.
Sweat dripped from his head, running into his eyes, making it difficult to see. He had to free a hand to wipe them clear, and that was almost as risky as impaired vision. He rated the grade about a 75, meaning the slope of the incline was greater than forty-five degrees, but still not a totally sheer ascent. He flexed his fingers whenever possible. He knew over-gripping could be dangerous. The surface was craggy and rough, but most of the indentations were vertical, not horizontal, which made it challenging to find a safe hold. His legs ached long before his fingers did. But he kept on pushing.
He would never have an opportunity to gain much momentum, so he practiced the static climbing technique. He didn’t move his body unless all four points were planted—both hands, both feet. He kept his body motionless while his hands moved. Once the hands were secure, the feet followed. He focused on quiet strong movements located directly over his center of gravity. You have done this many times before, he told himself. Climb.
He came to a sheer expanse of volcano, almost ninety degrees, straight up. He could find no place to put his hands. No way to get higher.
Further above, he spotted what looked like a natural rock ledge. That must be the entrance point. But he couldn’t reach it. He wasn’t long or tall enough. The only way to get it would be to pull his feet out of their secure niches. To jump. To violate another tenet of safe rock climbing.
If he made it to the ledge, he might be able to pull himself the rest of the way up.
And if not, he was dead.
He tensed his muscles. He took a deep breath.
He jumped.
Seamus grabbed the ledge, just barely. His left fingers tickled the edge, but his right hand had a more secure grip. Swinging like a pendulum, he managed to get the rest of his body up, feet first.
On the ledge, Seamus found what appeared to be a natural rock formation. He saw several stones lying beneath it. But one of them, he knew, was not natural. One was a trap door, something the designer installed in the event that fire or cave-in made the front door impassible—a reasonable concern when you’re playing around with astronomically powerful forces.
He found the portal stone, recognizable due to its distinct oval shape. And then he stood on it. When he felt the click, he stepped off.
A moment later, a two-by-two foot portion of the rock formation pivoted. It looked as if it were swinging along natural fissure lines, but Seamus knew better. It was a trap door. A secret entrance.
Beneath the opening, Seamus spotted a narrow flight of stone steps leading downward. He knew what was on the other end. The control room. Which would normally be guarded. But thanks to the thugs below, not today. All the guards on duty had been slaughtered.
He started down the stairs. The air was musty and it smelled. A stone handrail helped him guide himself. When he stepped onto the fifth step, the door closed behind him.
Slick. And scary, if you didn’t have a flashlight. But he did.
He knew it was all engineered by an elegant system of weights and counterweights hidden beneath the surface of the rock, controlled by levers and cables and cogwheels. He was glad he didn’t have to design it or even understand it. All he had to do was take advantage of it.
Seamus descended into the darkness.
* * *
After disabling the elevator, Dylan entered the control room, which was precisely as it had been described in the eighth file.
He knew the room had a radio frequency distinct from the rest of the facility to prevent outside interference. Its other unique aspect was the small aperture in the ceiling. A passageway for the neutrino beam, when activated, to enter the outside world. The ceiling was sealed with a thick membrane to prevent solar radiation or any other white noise from comingling with the radiation generated within. The walls were coated with a stiff mesh of titanium-enriched lead fiber. Plexiglas transparent dividers separated the various rooms: the lab, the mechanicals, the research area.
In the center he found a large console covered with blinking lights and computerized display panels. Dylan couldn’t help but think of the bridge of the starship Enterprise. He’d seen the command room at PACOM and he’d toured NORAD, but this was something else again. The clear Lucite panel sparkled, but Dylan knew this had not been engineered for its beauty. This was the targeting panel, with its own energy source, a hydrogen fuel cell tethered to a detachable housing station. In the upper right corner of the panel, he spotted a two-inch diameter indentation. The activation port for the Kronos Key.
Fortunately, he’d swiped the Key back from Xavier while they tussled.
Directly behind the panel, the floor was shielded by a ten-by-ten-foot square metal plating. Dylan knew that was installed so the operator would be grounded when the weapon was triggered.
Hovering above them, attached to the ceiling and pivoting on a revolving platform, a long mechanical arm with a clear tip pointed upward. The launching device. The barrel of the gun, so to speak. The neutrino beam would come out of that tip and travel wherever the Key told it to go. All he had to do was insert the Key and feed it the coordinates.
He could study this room for hours, but he didn’t have time. He knew Xavier would be close behind him. He flipped the starter switch. He heard the engine warming up. He inserted the Key into the designated slot. In only a few minutes, it would be ready for targeting. He tapped at the monitor screen—
And heard footsteps.
Damn. He didn’t think Xavier and his soldiers would arrive so quickly.
He slowly removed the taser from his satchel.
“Dylan? Dylan Taggart?”
He whirled sideways. The voice was unfamiliar. He was grateful for the absence of a Russian accent. But this only replaced a known for an unknown.
The intruder was a large muscular man, mid-forties, holding a silver attaché.
“You work here?” Dylan asked.
“No. The staff was dismissed when the project was shut down. Only a few guards are on duty. They’re probably dead now.”
“Then who are you?”
“My name is Seamus McKay. I work for the government. NCTC.”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed. Was it possible? Had he finally found someone who could help him? He forced himself to be cautious. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, Dylan. I’ve been hunting for you ever since you disappeared.”
“You took long enough.”
“You’re welcome. I know what happened, Dylan—at least some of it. I know the people who have been holding you. I’m going to help you get away from them. We’re going to shut down their whole plot and make sure they can’t hurt you or anyone else again.”
Seamus took a step toward him, but Dylan held him back with a wave of the taser. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Have you got any better offers? I know you’re making your move. Trying to escape, maybe trying to stop them. Let me help.”
“Still don’t know whether I can trust you.”
“I came with Leilani.”
Dylan’s heart skipped a beat. “Leilani? She’s here?”
“She’s somewhere safe. She’s been searching for you all this time. She told me what happened.”
“How is she?”
“Amazing. She bounced back from the attack with astonishing resilience.”
His eyes widened. “You mean she can walk?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“They told me—”
“They lied. She barely even limps now. You’ve got a real winner there, Dylan.”
“I know.” Leilani. Healthy. God, he wanted to see her. But first—
“Leilani was the one who learned about the back door to this facility—the one I used to get in,” Seamus continued. “An emergency exit installed in case the elevator failed to function. She got the intel from Dr. Scheimer. A secret that wasn’t even in the files you lifted from his university laptop.”
Dylan arched an eyebrow. “You know about that?”
Seamus nodded. “How have you stayed alive so long?”
“They need me. And they think I’ve joined them. Surrendered.”
“And have you?”
Dylan paused. If Leilani trusted this man, he decided, that was good enough. “Surrender to the bastards who hurt Leilani? Buried Dobie? Who want to create some insane Pearl Harbor incident?” Dylan’s jaw set. “I won’t surrender to them until they put me in my grave. Maybe not then.”
Dylan heard noises in the elevator shaft. It wouldn’t be long before they had company. He had to make a decision. Was he going to let this man help him or not? He was good at reading people, but the stakes were so high...
He had to make a choice.
He pointed to a steel wheel on the north wall. “Help me.”
The wheel lowered the titanium-reinforced slab that sealed off the control room. Dylan assumed it wasn’t used often because it was stubborn and slow. They both poured their strength into it, but it barely moved.
“Keep trying,” Dylan grunted.
“I will,” Seamus replied.
Down the corridor, Dylan could see Xavier emerging from the elevator, followed by about a third of his goon squad. He had perhaps twenty seconds before they would be inside.
“Push!”
They both leaned in hard. The gate slowly made its way downward.
A bullet ricocheted just above his head. Idiots. No telling what a stray slug might do in this room.
“Harder!” Both men poured all their strength into it. Sweat dripped down the sides of their faces. Dylan knew Xavier could see the slab lowering, but he didn’t break his stride. By the time he approached, it was almost to the floor. Xavier threw down his assault rifle, then slid like a runner heading for home plate. He managed to glide under the slab just before it thudded to the ground.
Instead of trapping Xavier outside, Dylan had trapped him inside. With them.
Chapter 81
2:35 a.m.
1 hour, twenty-five minutes left
Dylan heard a hail of bullets pounding the titanium slab to no effect. The goon squad could fire all night. They wouldn’t even dent the lacing. They’d need a ballistic missile to get through that and he was fairly sure they weren’t packing one.
Xavier quickly absorbed the situation, including Seamus. “Now this is homecoming, no?”
Dylan motioned Seamus to stay back. “Be careful. This man is—”
“I know who he is.” Seamus’s eyes narrowed. “I also know he’s been chemically enhanced since childhood. We’re not going to outmuscle him.”
“What is wrong, Dylan?” Xavier said, sneering. “I thought we all one big happy family now.”
“Fooled you,” Dylan murmured.
“Fooled no one. I knew you would try something.” He laughed. “So predictable. From the start.”
“If I’m so predictable, why are all your goons trapped outside?”
“We encountered unexpected resistance. No matter. Supervisor will soon be here. He will get the others in. He will take care of everything. He will take care of you. And your new friend.” He turned to Seamus, sneering. “I will take from you everything you have, Mr. Secret Agent Man. Like always.”
Out the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Seamus’s fists tighten. The fact that he despised Xavier was more than enough to convince Dylan they should be working together.
“I’ll take care of this man,” Seamus said.
“No, he’s mine,” Dylan replied. “This bastard shot Leilani. Had his goons torture her.”
Seamus nodded. “This bastard fucked my wife.”
Dylan drew in his breath. He wasn’t sure who had the trump card for revenge now.
Xavier laughed. “Ingrid wanted it.”
“You used her,” Seamus said, “to get to me.”
“You had nice home,” Xavier replied. “You did not appreciate what you had.”
“That might be true. But it’s no excuse for what you did.”
“You called in air strike. Killed my wife and child.”
“Not intentionally. They were inside a legitimate military target.”
“I could have killed your wife like you did mine. But instead I did worse. I spoiled her. I spoiled your home. I ruined only thing you had.”
Seamus glanced sideways out the corner of his eyes. “He’s mine, Dylan.”
“Maybe we should take him together.”
“Deal.” Dylan whispered something to Seamus under his breath.
They both advanced. Xavier pivoted on one foot, reached down to his boot, and came up with a small handheld pistol.
Seamus ran faster. Xavier adjusted his aim and fired.
Seamus was fast but not quite fast enough. The bullet caught Seamus somewhere in his upper chest. He crumbled to the floor. Dylan raced forward while the gun wasn’t trained on him. He tackled Xavier around the waist, knocking him over.
For weeks, this man had tormented him, manipulated him. All his pent-up rage, suppressed for weeks, spilled forth. They slid into the back wall. Xavier’s pistol skidded across the floor.
He saw Seamus roll onto his side and pull out his pistol. He was trying to get a bead on the two men wrestling on the floor, but the targeting station blocked his line of fire.
Xavier pushed Dylan away. Dylan took a swing at him, but his fist went wide. Xavier got him in the stomach, still sore from his battle with the MP. He dodged Xavier’s next blow but teetered sideways.
He remembered what Seamus said. He wasn’t going to win a battle of strength. Dylan would have to be smarter. He wrapped himself around Xavier’s waist, pushing him back against the wall.
“Pathetic,” Xavier said. “You fight like writer.”
Dylan had to prevent him from recovering his gun. Or opening the door. If either happened, he was done.
Dylan grabbed the man by the throat, trying to choke the life out of him. Xavier resisted, but Dylan held fast. He squeezed tightly, wrapping his fingers around Xavier’s larynx, fingernails piercing the skin. If he could deprive the man of oxygen, it would deplete his strength.
Trickles of blood broke out. Dylan could see Xavier’s face turning pale.
All at once, Xavier brought his other arm around and clubbed Dylan on the inside elbow, breaking his grip. Xavier pushed him onto the floor, then sat on top of him. He grabbed Dylan’s ears with both hands and thudded his head onto the floor.
“Stupid man.” He raised Dylan’s head, then pounded it down. “So smart, and yet so stupid.” He swung a fist into the side of Dylan’s face. Dylan felt his teeth loosening, blood oozing into his mouth. “So strong, yet so weak.” He hit him again on the other side. Dylan felt his head swim. He knew he was on the verge of unconsciousness. He wanted to fight back, but he couldn’t focus his strength. “I will enjoy killing you.”
