"Martial law has been instituted throughout the upper Midwest," the announcer continued. "Due to the ongoing danger of terrorist attack and looting, authorities are confiscating all firearms in this area. An international peacekeeping force is assisting our troops and local law enforcement. FEMA Director Will Arlington is asking that people remain in their homes and cooperate fully with the authorities."
I turned off the television and wandered away in a dazed and numbed state. Who could've detonated an EMP? My usual suspect, the U.S. Government, seemed an unlikely suspect. North Korea? Iran? China or Russia? But China and Russia's troops had been training with ours and were now part of the "peacekeeping force." Nothing seemed to add up.
I drifted through the recreation area past an Olympic-sized pool, a tennis court, a mixture of free weights and exercise machines – some so exotic that even a gym-rat like me didn't recognize them – to a court with rings suspended on either end that I first thought might be for gymnastics until I saw a couple of dudes toss basketballs at them. Inverted-hoop basketball? A first for me.
Irrelevancies rattled around in my mind, feebly competing with what I'd just seen, which was so huge that I couldn't seem to hold it in my head.
Another possibility popped into my brain: Them. The people here. The People. They planned to overthrow the government, after all, and judging from this place and everything else I knew, they had plenty of resources and loads of individuals working in their organization. Who else was a better suspect? Yet the few I knew or encountered did not strike me as cold-blooded killers. Except, of course, the two security dudes that we assumed had bad intent. On other hand, people who believed in the righteousness of their cause tended to believe the ends justified the means. And people who ordered the deaths of millions were often – in the West, anyway - well-respected family men, good and well-met dudes by all appearances.
Funny that the organization which had hired me through Professor Killian to investigate the mysterious goings-on of the federal government was just as mysterious and deserving of investigation itself. Ironic to an almost Alanis Morissette degree. But I was suddenly determined to conduct that investigation.
How I could investigate what I was calling "The Enclave" while in plain sight was a mystery. My guess was that they had invisible cameras everywhere, but with the place sparsely populated, maybe those cameras weren't being religiously monitored. That could offer some possibilities for plying my bumbling spycraft.
I walked every inch of this level, seeking places worthy of investigation. I returned to the hallway where I'd glimpsed the hypothetical war map. Here, the rooms bore numbers unlike the living quarter rooms. Of course they were locked. A couple of older men emerged from the "war map" door ahead, giving me a hard look before disappearing into an adjacent room.
I completed my inspection circuit and ventured out into the outer hall, which housed the elevator we'd come up on. I could only guess how many floors the building had - hadn't paid much attention when I rode the elevator down here – but it was a fair number. Naturally, I found no exterior buttons, and the elevator doors stayed shut as I stood before them.
A young woman entered the hallway from another door in an outfit that made me think laboratory chic – one-piece grey-blue uniform that clung to her body like Spandex – and strolled up with a smile and an arched eyebrow. She had dark, close-cropped hair and dark blue eyes and had a straight-backed military bearing. Gorgeous in a Sigourney Weaver-Aliens way.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
"Not so far."
The elevator doors opened. She preceded me. On the motto "What's not forbidden is okay," I followed her in.
"Floor?" she asked.
"Ah, top."
"Coincidence. That's where I'm going, too."
She tapped the button and half-turned to regard me. That regarding grew into a candid stare of appraisal. I didn't find it overly unpleasant to stare back. She had an interesting accent that I couldn't place. Sort of Middle Eastern mixed with Irish. Her words were like melodies.
"Are you a scientist?" I asked.
"Pilot. And you?"
"Software engineer."
A hint of question crossed her face, but she extended her hands. Both of them. "I'm Urnina."
I clasped both her hands and not knowing what else to do gave them a firm shake. I assumed it was a Middle Eastern custom. Her name sounded Middle Eastern, possibly derived from a Persian restroom. Her puzzled eyes suggested I hadn't given the right response.
"You didn't mention your name," she said.
I recalled an Iraqi friend. "Babar?"
"It is not." But she kept smiling.
"Really? Then what kind of a name do you think would fit?" I was eyeing the upward ascending numbers. I'd never even considered the possibility of this kind of charade or an escape so soon, but I'd come to appreciate the fine art of going with the flow .
The elevator stopped and opened. First floor. Wow. Now what? The woman stood watching me uncertainly. I motioned for her to precede me. We walked out toward the parking lot door Lilith and I had entered through.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Salt Lake. Need to pick up some supplies. What about you?"
Urnina's puzzled expression was going into overdrive. She pulled up a few yards in front of the heavy steel door and faced me with folded arms.
"I think I just figured out who you are. My sleep-deprived brain is making me slow today." She arched her brow as though waiting for me to confess. "You're the..." She stopped herself. "The guest. The one who's been working with us."
"Yeah. You caught me." I gave her a mock bow. "Hayden Hunter, at your service."
"I'll need to take you back."
The thought of getting this far, so close to the outside that I could almost taste the fresh high desert air, and then letting this girl lead me back by the hand into my new prison – especially considering what I'd seen in that room – really wasn't working for me. A plan burst in my brain that I wasn't sure might not be the result of stress and my own sleep-deprivation. But I wanted some time to decide how crazy it was.
I sauntered toward Urnina, a dopey, unthreatening smile on my face. She tensed, her face uncertain, backing off a bit and turning to keep me in sight as I moved past her toward the door.
"I was thinking we could hang out a bit," I said. "Maybe take in a movie or something."
A small smile chipped away at the tension in her face. "You want to take me out?"
"Sure. I mean, of course just as friends, since I'm prohibited from any, uh, closer contact."
She stared at me in a way that suggested I presented a great but not entirely displeasing quandary. I was thinking desperately about a way to convince her to take me out of here. Just a bit closer, and she ought to trigger the locks in the door to release. At least that was my theory – that the identity of the person was detected automatically by face or eye recognition sensors. If the locks were manually triggered by human monitors, I wasn't going anywhere.
"Hayden...Hunter," the female pilot said, measuring the words. "I have heard some things about you."
"Good things, I hope."
She shook her head as if to dismiss whatever line of contemplation she was following. "I could get in trouble for allowing you to get this far. We need to return to your level."
She turned away. I had to act fast, or this serendipitous journey was all for naught. I was confident I would not get another chance any time soon.
I coughed hard, clutching my stomach, and sank to my knees. Urnina spun around and strode to me. I heard the door locks withdraw with muted clunks. So my theory about automatic sensors was right! I accepted her extended hand and allowed her to help me to my feet. But instead of letting go, I pulled her with me to the door, making a pretense of bracing myself on the handle. Maintaining my grip, I shoved down the handle and butted open the door with one shoulder. I continued the momentum, dragging her through the doorway into the parking area.
/> "Are you crazy?" she snarled, trying to pull free. "Release me!"
"Maybe I am crazy – "
She threw a punch – short and stiff – for my neck. I slipped it and yanked her into me. She arrived with a hard knee jammed into my upper thigh. Unarmed combat training, obviously . I bit back the pain and whipped my right arm around her neck, establishing a headlock. I dropped low and twisted her over my hip. We both went down. I grabbed the arm she had around my waist and swiveled into an arm-bar, which I had no intention of keeping. She attempted to tug her arm in and twist free, and that gave me the opening I wanted. I swung over her gymnast-like (in my mind) and got her back. She was an instant too slow in jerking her hand up to protect her throat. All she could do was try to break by grip as I curled my arm around her neck and locked up. Too little to late. As I tightened the chokehold, her thrashing weakened. Goodnight, sweet Persian princess.
I loosened my hold a few moments after she blacked out. Wouldn't do to kill her. I patted her down with my free hand, locating a lump which was probably keys and one that was likely a cell phone. I transferred them both into my pockets, and hauled her off the concrete floor. She was coming to as I flopped her around my shoulders in a fireman carry.
I trigged the key and a car beeped a few spaces away. I humped her over to a light blue late-model Mustang. The girl had pretty macho tastes. But then she was a pilot. I dropped her in the passenger side and sprang around to the wheel. She was coming awake, cursing softly under her breath. At least I assumed it was a curse. I didn't recognize the language. Sounded like Farsi with a Celtic lilt.
I started the car and rolled over to the nearest of the four beams supporting the garage floor. Another moment of reckoning. Man, the shit I get myself into.
The garage floor began to descend. I backed the Mustang up to get clear of it. The girl was now fully awake and was staring at me with dazed eyes more disbelieving than angry.
"You have...a strange...idea of a first date," she said.
"Heh. So I've been told."
I drove up the small ramps forged into the platform, and we started to rise. I checked the bars on Urnina's cell, keeping one eye on her. One bar popped up. I just might have reception by the time we were above ground.
Urnina edged toward me, her body coiling. I really didn't want to plant an elbow between her eyes or choke her out again. On the other hand, I didn't want her to land a punch or achieve a submission hold on me, either.
"Just play it cool," I said. "I don't want to hurt you."
"What's the point of this? You came here voluntarily, didn't you?"
"True. But I think I have a right to change my mind about leaving."
We eased up level with the garage. The door facing us rolled up, letting in light from a half-moon.
Urnina leaped out of the car. I hadn't even thought to lock her in. She dashed across the floor and slapped a red button on the wall. I heard faint siren-like sounds coming from below, and the garage door was rolling down. I buried the gas pedal. The half-moon raced toward me on a symphony of screeching tires. I fumbled for a moment before switching on the headlights. The road dipped precipitously before me. I eased up on the gas.
I had no idea what these people would do. Did they have pursuit vehicles or other security measures? I was obviously a unique case for them. I couldn't see anyone else here trying to make a run for it. Maybe they had no provisions at all for capturing an escapee?
A large explosion dead ahead shook the car. I braked as dirt clouded the windshield and gravel rattled down on the car like hail. I eased forward until I reached a bus-sized crater in the road. Pre-placed mine, I guessed. So they did have provisions – at least for blocking travel on this road. No way was I going through that. Around didn't look too promising, either.
I climbed out of the car. A ravine on one side and a steep, gravelly incline on the other. The Mustang wasn't fit to make it down either side. I snatched the cell phone from the car and started down the gravel and dirt incline, using the cell light sparingly to illuminate a path.
Back at the enclave, a line of cars burst from the house and streamed down the road. A pair of lights appeared in the sky, emitting a pulsing, bumblebee hum as they headed my way. Too small and quiet for helicopters. What the hell. Drones? I couldn't tell, but things were not looking up.
I checked the cell: two bars. If I was going to call or text someone, I needed to do it now and make it count. I scrambled down behind a large boulder. I had a perverse thought. Or was it perfect in its crazy irony? I opened the cell menu and found an app that would work. Now I just needed to share my location with a party that would be very interested - along with a simple message.
The cars skidded to a stop behind the idling Mustang. Doors flew open and footfalls scrunched in the gravel. They only had fifty or sixty yards to reach me. The drones flew in about the same distance overhead, their searchlights tracking the ground closer and closer to my position. Pretending to be a deer wasn't going to save me this time. With shaky fingers, I tapped in a short message and sent it with the attached coordinates.
I had time to smash the cell phone into plastic slivers and hurl it as far down the hill as I could before the drone's searchlights lit me up and the men from the cars surrounded me, weapons drawn.
Chapter 21
HAVE I MENTIONED HOW much I loathe solitary confinement? It was starting to become a nasty habit. My only source of amusement was the irony of being imprisoned by the very people who'd rescued and employed me. That amusement only went so far. But my jail cell was actually my old room and the bed was comfortable, so there was that.
Two days after my aborted escape, someone knocked on my door. One thing I could say for these people, they were more polite than your average detention center types. Not a waterboard, German shepherd, or syringe of sodium pentothal in sight when Harold Manning and a couple of his men questioned me for an hour or so – about three minutes of that dedicated to Urnina's cell phone. I played innocent about the cell, saying I had no idea what happened to it. I'd been solely intent on driving hell to leather and getting the hell out of there. Calling someone was the last thing on my mind, and I never had time to do it anyway. As to why I'd tried to escape, I told them I had a thing about personal freedom. I didn't say a word about the war map.
Now with the interrogators I knew, that would've solicited some knowing sneers and signaled the beginning of festivities. But Manning and his friends startled me by seeming satisfied. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. Next thing, I was escorted back to my room by security men now armed with truncheons bearing controls that suggested other capabilities besides bludgeoning.
The knock on the door repeated itself, and Lilith's voice, distraught and angry, penetrated into the room: "Hayden, it's me. I'd like to talk with you."
"Come in," I said.
The door opened. I glimpsed two truncheon-bearing men which Lilith shooed back as she entered and closed the door in their faces.
"Hi," she said.
"Hey."
I rose from the couch and my morning reading on the tablet they'd kindly permitted me to keep. She walked up and stood scowling into my eyes, hands on hips.
"I want to know what you were thinking. Had you been planning this?"
"No. Really, I was just exploring when I ran into Urnina in the outer hallway." Her scowl redoubled. "She didn't know who I was, so I joined her in the elevator. Only then did it hit me that I was on a possible path out of here. I decided to see how far I could take it."
"Why? What was the point?"
"Maybe I just needed a breath of fresh air?"
Lilith slapped me across my face. I hadn't seen that coming. I was so surprised that I hadn't even considered raising a hand to defend myself.
"My father and I put our reputation – our lives – on the line for you!"
I rubbed my face, feeling thoroughly chastised. "I'm sorry, Lilith. I admit I didn't devote a lot of thought to you and your dad's
position. I just saw the opportunity and ran with it. Kind of got in the habit of doing that lately."
"What if you'd killed Urnina in that fight?"
I sighed. I raised my hands, not so much in surrender as in self-protection. She looked like she was ready to whap me again.
"Ah, you want to sit down?" I asked. "Hopefully, out of striking range?"
A small smile crept through her stern expression. She dropped down on the couch, and I settled a safe distance from her.
"If things turn out as we hope, this should be over soon enough," she said. "And, with any luck, things will be much better."
"I'd find that more reassuring if I knew with the hell 'better' meant and how you plan to accomplish it."
"It means no more endless wars for profit. No prisons for profit, either. For that matter, many of the laws that put people in prison – drug use, dissidence, victimless crimes – will be eliminated. There will be less motivation to commit crimes since the cost of basic needs – power, food, medical care – will be greatly reduced."
I was hearing Lennon's Imagine playing in my head. Unfortunately, the woman from Skunk Works security, Lara Knowles, was singing it. She had a rotten singing voice.
"It will be a better world, Hayden, please trust me on that." She reached across and touched my arm, her fingers causing their usual frisson. "We'll accomplish it by using your government – your agencies of power."
"How are you going accomplish this grand coup d'etat?"
"We have people in position nearly everywhere. When the time comes, they'll all play their parts."
"And if it doesn't work out?"
"It will." I noted a glimmer of fear peek through her self-assured gaze. "A lot of very smart people have been planning this for a very long time."
Operation Indigo Sky Page 35