The Eighth Day

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The Eighth Day Page 37

by Tom Avitabile


  ∞§∞

  Two guards were monitoring the entrance in the command center. “What the fuck is going on out there?” one of them said. “Where’s Emmerts and Renko?” They were startled by Mack, one of the old men, who appeared behind them.

  “They got bamboozled,” Mack said. “Bye!” Two Tasers got each guard on his shoulder, jolting them out of their seats and onto the floor by the 20,000-volt sting of the handheld weaponized version of cattle-prod technology. Two other older guys ragged them, prompting Mack to comment, “This is too easy.” As if on cue, Mack’s shoulder exploded in a red ball of mush. Mack’s comrades hit the deck rolling and firing back at the source of the shot as alarms began to sound. They aimed low, taking out the shooter from the legs down. When he crumpled, another UDT guy ragged him.

  With the first line of defense put to slumber, the septuagenarian fighters and Hiccock’s MPs and communications troops made their way to the main entry door. It was actually a giant vault door, programmed to close automatically upon the alarm. Mack’s friend Charlie and another old Navy grog dashed over to the upper and lower actuating arms that were linked to the motor that closed the doors. They slapped a soft package on each arm as it swung and pushed into it a firing pin connected to a detonator cord. With the skill and light step of dancers, they retreated behind the big door itself and yelled, “Fire in the hole!”

  One of them keyed the detonator as the other UDT veterans down the hall ducked. Harry grabbed young Kronos, who was too curious for his own good, and pulled him behind a wall. With the explosion, the metal arms were severed and mangled. The door stopped with a groan. A piece of the arm stuck in the wall, like a javelin, where Kronos’s head had been a moment earlier.

  The major’s MPs, in full uniform, were now in the main area. Reinforcement guards from the installation, dressed in paramilitary uniforms, appeared. Both the MPs and the guards yelled “Freeze,” their weapons trained on each other. The standoff came down to the lead guard, code-named Gold, facing the lead MP, the major. There was dead silence.

  Then the major spoke, “United States Army. Drop your weapons.” Gold responded, “United States Marines. Drop yours.”

  “Oh, shit!” Kronos blurted out, putting a voice to what was on everybody’s mind.

  “We are here on direct orders of the Commander in Chief,” the Army major barked.

  “You are violating the security of a top-secret installation, Major.”

  “Well, it ain’t that secret anymore, pal. In minutes, the 82nd Airborne and First Ranger battalions will be swarming all over this place. Surrender your weapons and your command.”

  “Then you shall die with us, Sir.”

  Hiccock moved forward. “Wait a minute, fellas.”

  The major could not believe the stupidity of Hiccock’s move. “Sir, take cover.”

  Hiccock ignored him. “Look, Marine. Do you know who I am?”

  “You are an unauthorized person in the facility that I am sworn to protect …”

  “… against all enemies foreign and domestic,” Hiccock said. “Yes, I know, I took the same oath. But I work for the president. I have code-word clearance and I am seventeenth on the NCA protocol.” Hiccock saw that his last statement confused the Marine guard. “Let me show you my ID. I am seventeenth in line to the presidency in the event of a decapitating preemptive strike.”

  Just then, Professor Robert Parnes swept into the middle of the standoff in a white lab coat with his graying hair and prosthetic arm and demanded, “What is going on here?”

  Edmonds, who was wound tight and on edge because of his diet pills, wheeled around and nearly fired at his own boss.

  “Sir, please leave now,” Gold said to Parnes. “The security of this immediate area is compromised.”

  Hiccock couldn’t believe his eyes. “Parnes? Bob Parnes?”

  “Bill Hiccock? What are you doing here?”

  “You are running an illegal operation.”

  “Afraid not. I am running a top-secret project. I thought you were at the White House. Why are you breaking into my facility?”

  “Can we call off the warriors first? All these locked and loaded weapons make me a little nervous.”

  Parnes assessed the situation, “What if I do mine but you don’t do yours?”

  “Fair enough. Okay, so we do it by the numbers. One of yours stands down then one of mine does.”

  Edmonds watched every move the invaders made over the sights of his gun. He was breaking out in a sweat now, cursing his body for trembling under stress.

  ∞§∞

  Upstairs in the command center, Mack was bleeding heavily from the shoulder. Admiral Parks rushed over to him. She examined the damage and made a preliminary diagnosis. “It went clean through. You might not pitch in the majors again, but I don’t think you’ll buy the farm.”

  “Henrietta, you go and take care of that science guy. I’ll be okay.”

  “Medic!” Parks called out. She caressed the man’s good hand and squeezing it said, “Thank you for getting your old unit together and doing such a fine job.”

  “Me and the guys … we never broke up. We just started our own business and kept blowing up things. Heck, this has been the most fun we had since we took down the hotel in Vegas.”

  “Still, Mack, I owe you one.”

  “Your husband pulled my rump from the drink a few times. This one’s on my tab with him.”

  A medic arrived and Parks kissed Mack on the forehead. Then she was off. She ran into Tyler being led down into the facility by one of the MPs.

  “Admiral?” Tyler inquired.

  “Miss Tyler.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “My house has been destroyed, my husband’s best friend and war buddy is missing half his shoulder, there is a mad crazy somebody who’s going to make regular Americans blow up our country in forty-five minutes, and if I still got periods this would be the day. But besides that I am fine … except your husband is probably gonna get us all killed.”

  “My ex-husband.”

  “That seems like a dumb mistake, woman.” She was off, leaving Tyler speechless.

  ∞§∞

  The mutual stand-down continued in the main area, as soldiers on each side alternately received the signal from his respective commanding officer to secure his weapon.

  Hiccock continued explaining the situation to Parnes. “So my hacker friend Kronos here traced it back to this facility, which, by the way, does not appear in any government records.”

  Not noticed by anyone, Edmonds was sweating as his eyes darted around; chasing flashes of light only he could see.

  “Are you accusing somebody here of using my equipment to sabotage the United States?” Parnes said, incredulous.

  “Or possibly you, Professor … unfortunately.”

  The major gave one of his men the signal and another weapon was secured.

  “Me? Why would I …”

  “Oh, I dunno, maybe because big-ticket research money, the kind that you’re used to, doesn’t fall off the trees unless there’s a real nasty threat to this country.”

  “Not me, Bill. I literally gave my right arm for this country.”

  “Could still hurt, Parnes. And that could be a good reason to extract revenge. But that’s my wife’s area, actually.”

  Another Marine guard got the nod to stand down.

  Edmonds’s face was now registering anger.

  “Oh, that’s right. You married your old boss at Stanford. Cute, as I remember.”

  “You should see her now,” Tyler said as she walked into the chamber with Admiral Parks.

  Edmonds’s eyes darted to the new distraction caused by this woman. Slowly his finger moved to the trigger of his aimed and cocked M16, one involuntary spasm away from blowing off Janice’s head.

  Hiccock and Tyler both stopped and looked to each other, simultaneously asking, “Are you okay?” Hiccock smiled and returned to Parnes.

  The major got the eye of a
nother MP and he too relaxed his stance and lowered his weapon.

  “So what are you baking here, Parnes?”

  “The next big thing, Bill.”

  “Cold fusion?”

  Gold nodded his head and another weapon lowered.

  Edmonds was now breathing heavily through his mouth.

  “AI. The most far-reaching program of R&D on AI ever in the U.S.A.”

  “Of course, artificial intelligence. You were always a big-time DARPA guy. I guess this whole place is on the Department of Defense research and development, off-budget shopping list.”

  Edmonds started to shake ever so slightly.

  “Well, actually, no. My associates and I were asked to leave the Defense Advanced Research and Projects Agency. Unlike you, Bill, I wasn’t able to stay out of the big leagues. So I pitched this idea to the Department of Agriculture, of all places.”

  “Agriculture? This top-secret facility is code word cleared for what … ‘farmland security’?”

  “Old habit, Bill. There are companies and governments all over the world that would stop at nothing for the technology we are ‘baking’ here.”

  An MP behind Hiccock lowered his weapon but the one beside him kept his trained across the room.

  “Well, it’s over Parnes. You are shut down.”

  Parnes became animated with a newfound emotion. “Bill, we are doing it, right here. The Holy Grail … the ultimate in computational science. We have created true artificial intelligence, Bill. Think of it!” Then suddenly, changing beat, he asked, “Why is your wife here?”

  “Ex-wife. She’s here to figure out how you went nuts.”

  “Nuts? Bill, we are on the verge of changing everything!”

  Hiccock took a deep breath. “And I suppose plotting to destroy the United States is some kind of warm-up to the main event?”

  Edmonds now had a terrified look on his face.

  “Weather, Bill! We are a meteorological research facility. I don’t know what makes you think we are …”

  “Weather? You mean you are running an ultra top-secret, multimillion dollar off-budget black op to determine if the rain is going to hurt the rhubarb?”

  “Well, when the Department of Defense dropped us, I had to get my team and myself another high-paying, satisfying research scenario. Breaking down the complexities of weather dynamics is a task only the largest computer ever made could attempt to unravel. Again, why is the former Mrs. Hiccock here?”

  A guard safetied his gun as an MP pointed his weapon to the ground and released the bolt. There were only two men left with weapons. One of Hiccock’s MPs and Edmonds.

  Tyler decided to speak up. “If what you are saying is true about your mission here, then you or somebody on your team is a serial-homicidal maniac. I intend to conduct a full psychiatric investigation to determine who the culprit might be.”

  “After we shut you down,” Hiccock added.

  The last MP stood down.

  Edmonds swallowed hard. His eyelids were perceptibly fluttering now.

  And then a spider crawled out of the uniform and up the neck of the MP standing next to Tyler. The soldier, sensing something just above his collar, reacted with a start, swatting the arachnid from his five o’clock shadow with a slight grunt. A blood-red dot appeared on his forehead as the sound of a shot echoed through the halls of Alison Industries. The back of his head exploded in a puff of red, white, and gray.

  Before the soldier’s limp body crumbled to the floor, Edmonds pivoted, quickly acquiring his next target. Bang. An MP, instinctively raising his gun in response to the sound of the shot, was knocked down by the impact of the second gunshot.

  “No!” Gold yelled.

  The major raised his gun and fired, rippling Edmonds’s chest with bullet holes. He then kicked over a desk and dropped down for cover. Everyone else scrambled. Tyler instinctively reached out for the downed MP. Hiccock jumped across the ten feet between them and immediately covered her and pulled her down behind a desk. Parnes was hustled to the ground by one of his guards who took a bullet in the back for his trouble. The confusion over who was shooting at whom increased. Bullets ripped into everything. Guards and MPs were spun around and blasted back by rounds from the weapons of their adversaries.

  Suddenly, save for the sound of a weeping Tyler, the hollowed out chamber of Alison Industries returned to its austere silence. Hiccock, tenaciously shielding Janice, chanced a peek from his position, just enough to see that the major was gauging the situation.

  The major called out, “Give it up, Marine.”

  Parnes pushed the dead guard off himself. “There is no need for this! Stop it!”

  “He’s right,” Hiccock shouted. “Your cover’s blown and in minutes this place will be swarming with troops and FBI.”

  “Please everybody, just calm down!” Parnes said.

  The major yelled over the desk he was using for cover. “We got hurt people here. They need medical attention. What do you say we cease-fire and take care of our own? You and I will stand guard, Marine.”

  Hiccock tenderly pulled back Tyler’s hair, making eye contact. “Are you okay?”

  Janice jerked her head and hugged Hiccock. When she opened her eyes she was looking directly at the MP’s lifeless body, a pool of blood spreading from the back of his head. She started drawing short breaths. Hiccock kissed her head and stroked her hair, waiting for the next seconds to play themselves out. She kept turning her head in the direction of the dead trooper. Hiccock took her face in his hands and stopped her. Some shouts and a few more gunshots caused both of them to wince, but they never broke the connection, intensely holding onto one another with their eyes. All of the issues she had with him evaporated at that instant. After avoiding, intellectualizing, pragmatising, and postponing the issue, she now hoped with everything she had that they survived this madness. As a bullet whizzed by above their heads, they simultaneously, silently mouthed the words “I love you.”

  ∞§∞

  True to the president’s words, no one had been allowed to leave the now superheated room. Everyone in the room avoided looking at the hastily wiped down spot of dried blood where Spence had died. The sound of the intercom ripped through the still air. “Action report, Sir.”

  “What?” The president was stunned.

  “Quarteback’s unit reports engaging an armed force after gaining entry to an Alison Industries.”

  “Where is Alison Industries?”

  “His team is requesting Air MedEvac. They have dead and wounded.”

  “Dear God. Is Hiccock okay?”

  “Unable to confirm that at this time, Sir.”

  The president shifted his focus from the squawk box by his side to the people around the room. “Okay, so which one of your departments is contracting through Alison Industries? I want the answer in ten minutes.” Most of the Cabinet members picked up the phones in front of them.

  Four-star General Wallace Bradley, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in full military uniform and decorations, covered his phone and sought the president’s attention. “Sir, I am getting something now.” He spoke into the phone. “Repeat and confirm.” His face turned as hard as the metal stars on his shoulder boards. “Mr. President, Quarterback’s group has met armed resistance from U.S. Marines.”

  “What in the world? That doesn’t make sense.” The president’s brow was as furrowed as an Iowa cornfield.

  The CJCS blurted out something that halted all conversation in the room. “What? That’s crazy! Rescind that order, call them back. Under my authority, goddamn it! The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff!”

  All heads snapped toward the chairman, who appeared dazed by what he had just heard. He addressed the Commander in Chief. “Sir, an Air Cavalry squadron is en route to the area where Quarterback’s team is. They are poised to attack.”

  “You have my authority to abort the attack and, in fact, order them to help with the dead and wounded.”

  “Something does
n’t make sense here, Sir,” a confounded Chairman Bradley mumbled.

  The intercom interrupted. A communications officer on the other end was obviously repeating raw what he was hearing on another tactical circuit. “Sir, the agency running the black op is … say that again? The oversight agency is Department of Agriculture.”

  Every head in the room pivoted in unison to Harold Dawson, the Secretary of Agriculture. Two White House guards immediately flanked him.

  “Harold?” the president said. “Why? What ever possessed you?”

  Dawson turned to Ray Reynolds like a hunter suddenly surrounded by cannibals. “Mr. President, I assure you I know nothing …”

  The president held up his hand. “Everyone else is excused. It’s been a long, hard day. The Secretary of Agriculture, Justice, and my counsel will remain. The rest of you may return to your offices.”

  “Mr. President, may I have a word in the anteroom?” Reynolds asked in a tone that the two men knew meant that they needed to do this immediately.

  The president acceded and they headed toward the small quarters off the Sitch Room, both unconsciously stepping over the spot where Naomi had died, the marble floor still streaked from the quick mop-up of her blood. Reynolds closed the door and sat for a second. “Maybe we shouldn’t stop the Air Cav from attacking.”

  “Slow up, Ray. Why would we do something as insane as that?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Let the Chips Fall

  PARNES, TYLER, KRONOS, and the major walked down the corridor as the dead and wounded were carried out of the main entry area. A communications trooper approached Hiccock with a com-sat phone. Hiccock shook the phone. The line would not engage.

  “Is there another way that you can connect me to the White House? This isn’t working.”

  “Please send my regards to Ray Reynolds,” Parnes said casually.

  “You know the chief of staff?” Hiccock’s sixth sense started tingling.

 

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