Zero Hour (9781101600559)

by Cussler, Clive; Brown, Graham

  Gregorovich pointed with his chin. “Over there,” he said. “Pliers. Maybe you can reach them.”

  Joe looked at a cluttered desk across from them. Pliers, brass knuckles, and a few other tools of the intimidation trade rested on it. He stretched toward them, but they were at least six inches out of reach.

  “Come on,” Gregorovich urged.

  “What am I, made of rubber?”

  Gunfire and shouting echoed right outside the door.

  Joe stretched again but flailed inches from the table.

  The door swung open. One of Thero’s men backed into the room, his eyes and his rifle aimed out through the door and down the hall.

  As he fired off a burst at some unseen enemy, Joe lunged for him, wrapping his free arm around the man’s neck and yanking him backward.

  The man dropped his rifle and grabbed at Joe’s forearm, trying to pull it away from his windpipe. Joe held on, every muscle in his body straining, his powerful arm locked in a sleeper hold.

  The man flailed and kicked, but Joe had all the leverage. Strangely, being anchored to the wall only helped. Soon, the man went limp in Joe’s arm.

  Joe held him like that for another full minute and then let him go. The man splayed out on the floor, and Joe stretched down and retrieved the rifle.

  Twisting his body, he tried to aim the weapon at the chain cuffing his left hand to the wall, but the barrel was too long. He turned toward Gregorovich. “Looks like you’re first.”

  Gregorovich stood and leaned away from the wall. “Better make it quick. Before someone else shows up.”

  Awkwardly, Joe tried to aim the rifle at Gregorovich’s chains with only one hand on the grip.

  “Watch it,” Gregorovich said as the rifle swayed toward his body.

  Before Joe could steady his aim, the door flew open again. Joe swung the rifle toward it.

  “Hold on, buddy!” a familiar voice called.

  “Kurt!” Joe blared. He lowered the gun. “It’s about time you showed up. I almost had to rescue myself.”

  “I don’t know, you look like you have things well under control,” Kurt said. “Can I offer some assistance?”

  “Maybe you’d better do this,” Joe said, handing the rifle over.

  Joe tensed as Kurt took careful aim and blasted the chain off his arm and then did the same for his feet. He stepped forward, glad to be free. Kurt freed Gregorovich the same way seconds later.

  Kurt explained about the prisoners and the melee going on outside. He handed Gregorovich two pistols he’d confiscated from Thero’s prison guards.

  “I think we’re gaining the upper hand, but we’re running out of time,” he said. “Any idea where Hayley is?”

  “Thero took her,” Joe said. “He had something he wanted to show her. I’m guessing we both know what that is.”

  “Which way?”

  “Not exactly sure,” Joe replied. “But I believe he used the words bring her up. It’s just a guess, but if I was a villain with an underground lair, I’d probably put my own quarters somewhere near the top.”

  Seconds later, Devlin and Masinga came rushing in. Their status report seemed to mesh with Joe’s guess.

  “Thero’s men are retreating up to the higher levels,” Devlin explained. “We tried to follow, but they sealed off the corridor. We did find something of interest, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The radio room.”

  Kurt grinned. “Now we’re making progress. Time to call in the cavalry.”

  Dirk Pitt’s message to Jim Culver stirred up a hornet’s nest of activity. Within ten minutes, a briefing was under way in the White House Situation Room. Culver was there, along with the President, Vice President Sandecker, and several ranking members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. A cadre of advisers and aides backed them up, while Pitt and Yaeger watched the proceedings on a flat screen, patched in via a secure video link.

  A brief set of remarks gave way to the prime question: With time almost up, could anything be done to stop Thero?

  To that end, the only voice of importance was a rear admiral whose operational title was COMSUBLANT, an acronym that meant he was the Commander of U.S. Submarine Forces in the Atlantic.

  Even though Heard Island was a long way from the Atlantic, the admiral was also in charge of the submarines currently assigned to the Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean. These were the closest vessels to what was now considered the target zone: Heard Island.

  “. . . the Tomahawk missiles these ships carry have an extended range capability,” he said in answer to a question from the President, “putting both the Albany and the New Mexico within range of Heard Island, but just barely.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Culver asked.

  “The time frame. The Tomahawk is a subsonic weapon.”

  “Meaning?”

  The admiral sighed. “Time from launch until impact is over three hours. According to the timetable you’ve given us, we have less than ninety minutes until this man acts.”

  The room went silent. All of them knew what that meant.

  “How could this happen?” Culver asked aggressively. “We ordered vessels to begin moving into position two days ago.”

  “The navy reacted as soon as we were directed to,” the admiral said. “But Heard Island is one of the most remote spots on the face of the Earth, and we don’t spend a great deal of time patrolling the bottom of the world. The USS Albany was the closest operational vessel at the time and it was over four thousand miles away.”

  An aide rushed into the room and handed Culver a note.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” Culver said. “Our early warning network has picked up a neutrino wave in the southern hemisphere. We don’t have a location, but I’m pretty sure we can guess where it’s coming from.”

  “So Thero isn’t going to give us ninety minutes,” the President said. “Talk about jumping the gun.”

  VP Sandecker spoke next. “We’d better inform the Australian prime minister. Tell him doomsday is coming early.”

  Pitt watched the proceedings stoically until the buzz of his intercom interrupted. It was Ms. Conry from communications.

  “I have an incoming radio call for you, Dirk.”

  Pitt pressed the talk button. “Now is not a good time.”

  “It’s Kurt Austin,” she replied. “He’s calling on a shortwave band. The signal is very weak.”

  “Put him through,” Pitt said without hesitation.

  A distorted squeal of static and shortwave frequency interference came through the line seconds later.

  “Kurt?” Pitt asked. “Can you hear me?”

  More static, and then finally Kurt’s voice.

  “Barely,” he said. “We’re on Heard Island. We found Thero’s base of operations. It’s underground. Near the front of the Winston Glacier.”

  “We know,” Pitt said. “Hiram managed to figure out your signal and Paul and Gamay bluffed the MV Rama into surrendering. What’s your situation?”

  The sound wavered again, punctuated by bursts of interference. “We’ve managed to start a small uprising and we’ve taken over half the station, but Thero and his men have walled themselves off on a higher level. We can’t get to them.”

  “The NSA sensor grid is picking up neutrino emissions,” Pitt said. “We believe Thero is charging his weapon now. Can you confirm that?”

  “Not exactly, but it would explain the lighting issues we’ve been having,” Kurt said. “You’re going to have to hit this place hard to knock it out. We’re at least a hundred feet below the surface.”

  “We can’t get any ordinance on-site in time,” Pitt said. “You’re going to have to stop it from there.”

  The silence and distortion returned.

  “Kurt? Do you read me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Kurt said. “I’ll see what we can do.”

  The static ended abruptly as Kurt cut the line.

  • • •

  SILENCE
PERVADED the radio room on Heard Island.

  “No help coming,” Kurt said. “It’s up to us.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Joe asked.

  Kurt looked at Gregorovich. “Any idea what happened to that box of fireworks you brought from Moscow?”

  “Thero’s people took it with Hayley.”

  “Then we’d better get to that control room,” Kurt said.

  The lights dimmed, and a slight shudder went through the room as the first energy wave from Thero’s weapon surged through the cavern. Kurt glanced up as dust drifted down on them from above.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Joe said.

  Kurt nodded. “According to Dirk, the show’s starting early.” He turned to the prisoners. “Is there any other way up to the top level?”

  Masinga spoke first. “When we began to dig the mine, there was a vertical shaft. It was sealed off as soon as we began tunneling sideways into the kimberlite. You might be able to circumvent Thero’s defenses if you use it.”

  “Can you find it?”

  Masinga nodded. “I think so.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Two minutes later, they were down the tunnel, prying a metal plate from a section of the wall. Once they’d pulled it aside, Kurt stuck his head in.

  He looked up. A sixty-foot climb to the top. “Could use that rocket-propelled harpoon of yours right now, Joe.”

  “Better go search the lost and found, then,” Joe said.

  “No time. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  Kurt glanced down. The shaft dropped another hundred feet or so. Kurt could swear he smelled the ocean. He turned to Devlin. “I think I know where you’ll find that ship of yours.”

  Devlin nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Gather up the prisoners. Get them down there.”

  Devlin nodded. Masinga did the same. “Once we’ve taken it over, we’ll wait for you.”

  “Don’t bother,” Kurt insisted. “Just head for the sea.”

  Devlin stared at Kurt for a moment, offered him a salute, and then he and Masinga went back to round up the other prisoners.

  “You should really go with them,” Kurt said to Joe.

  “Sorry,” Joe said. “Our last cruise made me seasick. Bad navigation. Poor accommodations. And don’t get me started on the food. It was just awful. They should really put a health inspector aboard that vessel.”

  Kurt laughed. He should have known better than to try benching his friend at this point in the proceedings. He turned to Gregorovich. “Ready for one last gambit?”

  “Ready to end this game,” Gregorovich said. “Once and for all.”

  Kurt, Joe, and Gregorovich climbed up the abandoned shaft, while Devlin, Masinga, and the South American led the surviving prisoners down toward the water level.

  As they neared the top, another powerful vibration shook the cavern. In the hollow shaft, it made a sound like a rushing train.

  Kurt gripped the scaffolding as the vibration came up. He noticed a strange luminescence to the metal work, something he hadn’t seen before.

  “We might want to hurry,” he suggested.

  The other two fell behind, the beatings they’d taken slowing them down.

  Kurt reached the top and braced himself, waiting as both Joe and Gregorovich caught up.

  Another barrier of corrugated tin blocked whatever lay beyond. Kurt put his ear to it. A loud droning could be heard.

  “What is it?” Joe asked.

  “Generators.”

  Kurt pulled his backpack off and wedged it into the scaffolding, taking out the last brick of C-4.

  “What are you going to do?” Joe asked.

  “Looks like it’s only attached at four points,” Kurt said. “One in each corner. If I wedge some explosives into the gap between the tin sheet and the wall and trigger them all at the same time, that should blast the corrugated sheet out into the room.”

  “How much are you going to use?”

  Kurt almost laughed. “You and Devlin must have gone to the same school of asking too many questions.”

  Unlike his effort with the heavy door he’d blown earlier, Kurt wanted to use as little explosive as possible in this case. Just enough to separate the sheet of tin from the opening it covered.

  He tore off small sections of the plastic explosives and wedged them into the corners the way one might caulk a drafty window. Setting the detonators, he rigged his clacker once again.

  “Hold on tight,” he said.

  Both Joe and Gregorovich wrapped their arms and legs around the scaffolding, and Kurt did the same.

  As the next wave of energy began to vibrate the cavern, Kurt figured he had the perfect opportunity. He squeezed the clacker tight. The four little charges blew simultaneously. The tin sheet flew out into the room, trailing smoke and clattering to the floor. The drone of humming generators doubled in volume.

  Kurt looked inside.

  A head poked out from behind one of the generators and seconds later gunfire burst forth from behind two others.

  Kurt ducked back behind the edge of the rock as bullets tore up the inside of the mineshaft.

  “So much for our surprise entrance,” Joe said.

  • • •

  A HUNDRED AND SIXTY FEET BELOW, Devlin and Masinga had reached the bottom level of the shaft. A short tunnel led to the cave where the black hulk of the Voyager remained docked.

  From a side tunnel, Devlin noticed a man carrying a large crate toward it.

  He put a finger to his lips and then jumped out, slamming the butt of the rifle down on the man’s head. The man stumbled, dropped what he was carrying, and sprawled on the floor.

  Devlin recognized him and stuck the business end of the rifle in his face. “Running away again, Janko?”

  Janko froze as he realized who was speaking.

  “Look at this,” Masinga said, opening the crate. “Diamonds.”

  Devlin drew back and slugged Janko with the butt of the rifle once again, knocking him out.

  A few minutes later, wearing Janko’s clothes, he boarded the Voyager and took over the bridge. With the command crew under the gun, he waved Masinga and the other prisoners forward.

  “Come on,” he shouted as the cave began to shake yet again. This series of tremors lasted longer and ran deeper than any of the others. Small rockslides could be seen throughout the cave.

  As the last of the former prisoners climbed on board, Devlin turned to the helmsman. “Fire this tub up.”

  • • •

  AT THE TOP OF THE SHAFT, just outside the generator room, Kurt, Joe, and Gregorovich had run into better-prepared defenses than they’d expected. Eight of Thero’s men were inside, hiding behind the generators.

  “Getting through that cross fire is going to be suicide,” Joe pointed out.

  “I have an idea,” Kurt said. He rigged up what remained of the C-4 and looked at Joe. “Get ready,” he shouted.

  Joe nodded, switching the selector on his rifle to full auto.

  Kurt flung the pack around the corner and into the room, squeezing the clacker one last time. A booming explosion shook the generator room, hopefully knocking the defenders off their feet.

  “Go!” Kurt shouted.

  Joe went to rush in, but Gregorovich pulled him aside and climbed over him. He charged into the room, wielding his two pistols and blazing away. From the middle of the room, he fired in all directions, twirling and shooting, even as Thero’s men fired back and hit him several times.

  With Gregorovich drawing their fire, Joe and Kurt rushed in behind him. They each took a side and gunned down the last of Thero’s men in rapid sequence.

  When the shooting stopped, only Kurt and Joe were standing. They rushed to Gregorovich, who was on the floor badly wounded.

  Maxmillian Thero stood in the control room, bathed in the light of his great creation and oblivious to the gunfire outside. He gazed through the portal, mesmerized by the swirling gal
axy-like pattern of the zero-point energy. It raced around the inside of the globelike structure, faster and faster, until finally disappearing in a blinding flash and heading toward Australia.

  The first pulses probably hadn’t been felt except by a few kangaroos in the outback. This surge would rattle windows and shake doors. It would cause tremors up and down the rift and set the stage for what was to come, as each reverberation built upon the previous one.

  He checked the monitor. The next oscillation was beginning to build.

  Suddenly, the door burst open behind him. He turned in time to hear the crack of the gunshot from Kurt Austin’s weapon and see the flash of fire from the barrel. He fell backward, slammed into the viewing portal, collapsed, and slid down it, leaving a trail of blood on the thick Plexiglas.

  As he slumped to the ground, he rolled toward Hayley. She was lying on the ground a few feet away.

  “Thank . . . you,” he managed.

  “George,” she whispered.

  He nodded, and then his eyes closed.

  Kurt rushed into the room and over to Hayley. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” she said, beginning to move.

  As he helped her up, the room began shaking violently.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Thero has engaged his weapon. You have to help me shut it off.”

  Joe appeared in the door, supporting Gregorovich and lowering him to a seat, as Kurt led Hayley to the console. Kurt watched as she scanned everything, eyes going from one computer monitor to the next. A look of trepidation crept over her. “I can’t stop it,” she said.

  “What?” Kurt asked. “Why?”

  “Thero’s done something here. He’s distorted the pattern, stretching it like a rubber band. The next wave will take longer to arrive, but it will be monstrous when it hits.”

  “Not if we shut this thing off,” Kurt said, getting ready to fire a spread of shells into the computer.

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “It’s already off. What you’re seeing is a free-form chain reaction. The energy is coming from the imbalance in the zero-point field itself.”