The two agents were in the central building with its maze of corridors and giant humming accelerators. Simon had checked his device constantly, shaking his head at each new discovery.
Jack used the unconscious worker’s badge, holding it before a scanner. A heavy lock clicked. Jack yanked the thick steel door. Even so, it opened slowly.
The two agents peered into a vast sunken chamber the size of a football field. If they passed through the entrance, they would be on a catwalk one hundred meters higher than the majority of the cyclers and faintly shimmering fields down there. Jack counted approximately thirty people at work.
“What do you think is going on down there?” Jack asked.
From the doorway beside Elliot, Simon’s brown eyes widened with amazement. He adjusted his device, elongating the antenna. Then, he began to manipulate the controls with his thumbs.
“I don’t want to keep the door open too long,” Jack said.
Simon nodded absently, obviously absorbed in his task.
“The shimmering fields are…?” Jack said.
“Magnetic containment barriers, I believe,” Simon said in a clipped voice.
“What do you mean?”
“Force fields,” Simon said. “You know, like for a starship.”
“Come again?”
“Like the old science fiction TV shows.”
“We can make those?”
Simon shook his head. “No. We cannot. What I’m seeing is too incredible to believe. Yet, there it is.”
Jack peered down, watching some of the giant machines, making little sense of them.
“Close the door,” Simon said in a rush. The scientist stepped back, shoving the antenna shorter.
Obediently, Jack pushed until the door locked.
“We have to get out of here,” Simon said.
“Why the sudden rush?”
Simon faced him. There was moisture on his upper lip. In a strained voice, he said, “We’ve stumbled onto the biggest secret on the planet.”
“Which is…?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.
“If my readings are correct—and I believe they are—they’re making antimatter down there.”
Jack shrugged.
Simon laughed raggedly. “You don’t understand. They make microscopic amounts of antimatter at the CERN collider. Making even a few grams of antimatter costs trillions of dollars.”
“You mean billions,” Jack said.
“No. I said trillions.”
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“According to my readings, they almost have 900 grams of antimatter down there.”
“And that’s illegal?”
“You’re not tracking me,” Simon said. “What I’m seeing, humanity can’t do yet. The Swiss have big magnetic containers to hold the microscopic amounts of antimatter at the CERN facility in Switzerland. To make this antimatter and to hold it…the technology down there is more advanced than anything on Earth. We have to get out of here and report this.”
Jack looked up and around as if searching for something. A hint of a frown touched his features. He touched Simon’s arm, pointing to the left.
“We came from the other direction,” Simon said.
“I know. But it doesn’t feel right going that way now.”
“Okay,” Simon asked. “But what aren’t you telling me?”
“Do you hear how quiet it is?” Jack asked.
Simon listened before peering questioningly at him.
“It’s subtle,” Jack said, “almost under my radar. But it’s gotten too quiet the last minute. We must have used the worker’s badge wrong and tripped an alarm.”
They walked faster in the new direction, covering ground with long strides. Then, sirens began to wail. Red lights flashed in the building.
Jack halted, motioning Simon. They stood in a long row between heavy machinery.
Jack wondered what had gone wrong. If he could figure it out, he’d have a better chance of coming up with the right answer to getting out of here.
They had stumbled onto something huge. Simon knew his science cold. If the man said no one on Earth knew how to do what they had seen, Simon meant just that. If making antimatter in big quantities was worth trillions of dollars, their lives were worth less than scrap. That didn’t matter this instant except that trust became more of an issue. With trillions, the D’erlon people had plenty for massive bribes that could buy just about anyone. With that kind of backing, one could easily reach into D17.
Something had given them away tonight. Was it the last badge? Could it have been the big man earlier? Maybe someone higher up in D17 had sold them out.
Would the D’erlon people have let Simon and me reach this far then? That was doubtful.
Jack heard tires squeal. He hurried to the edge of the machinery, peering around a metal block corner. One of the long electric carts with benches on the sides slid to a stop. Four security guards jumped out.
Jack glanced up at the ceiling. Had security cameras spotted them? He watched the guards. They fanned out in various directions with handguns drawn. The driver craned around, watching the guards for a moment. Then, he faced his steering apparatus, cranking the wheel as he engaged the electric motor. The tires spun on the smooth floor, catching finally as the cart lurched into motion.
That would be the way to go, traveling by cart. Jack debated it, especially as the machine headed this way.
“Stay put,” Jack said.
“What are you—?”
Jack ignored Simon as he stepped briskly from the machinery, holding up his clipboard. He imperiously motioned the driver to stop.
People usually saw what they expected to see. If one acted importantly, most people listened. The driver was no exception. He took his foot off the accelerator and applied the brake.
“Over here,” Jack said in a stern voice. “Simon is injured.”
“What?” the driver asked, his cart almost to Elliot.
Jack scowled, whipping around. “Do I have to tell you twice during an emergency?”
With these kinds of things, fakery either worked like a charm or it didn’t. There were no half measures. The trick was making sure the mark didn’t have time to think but acted automatically.
The driver jumped out of his seat, scurrying after Jack.
“What’s going on, anyway?” the driver asked. “Why all the commotion?”
Jack moved around the machinery. The driver followed. Jack spun around, already swinging a savage uppercut. His fist caught the driver under the jaw, clicking the man’s teeth together and snapping his head up hard. The driver was tougher than the earlier worker had been, however. He stumbled backward, almost into sight of the guards. Jack grabbed the man’s coveralls, yanking him close. The driver’s hands lifted as he feebly tried to resist. Elliot didn’t give him any more time. He drove the driver face-first into a heavy block of metal. The skull thump was audible. As carefully as he could, Jack lowered the seemingly boneless driver onto the floor.
Jack knelt, pulling off the cap and badge. The driver still breathed. He was alive, but he would have a nasty concussion. If it was simply a matter of survival, Jack knew he should kill the driver. But butchering the helpless went against the code.
“Come on,” Jack said.
Simon followed him to the cart.
“You’re going to sit on the bench,” Jack said. “Put your hands in your lap and keep your head down. Don’t look up unless you hear me call your name.”
“Got it,” Simon said, heading for a bench seat.
Putting the new cap on his head, clipping the badge to his coveralls, Jack climbed into the driving seat. He felt Simon sit down. Jack gave him another second before he pushed his foot against the accelerator and cranked the steering wheel. The long cart began to move.
The four security men searched in various directions. This could be going on all over the complex. None of them had heard the little knockdown over the sirens and humming machinery.
&n
bsp; Jack took a deep breath, judging the situation. He aimed for the guard nearest the big door. Then, he tromped on the accelerator, picking up speed. Seconds later, he braked, turned a corner and hit the accelerator again as he raced toward the guard.
“Hey!” Jack shouted at the man.
The guard looked over his shoulder. The man had a thick neck but only stood around five-ten, Elliot’s height.
“I was supposed to tell you!” Jack shouted.
The guard raised his eyebrows, waiting. He didn’t seem nervous that Jack came fast on the cart. Jack kept his features earnest, keeping his machine at high speed. At the last second, when the guard no doubt expected him to brake, Jack cranked the wheel, aiming the front of the cart at him.
The surprise was complete. The guard never expected this. The front of the long cart struck him hard, catapulting the man against a big machine. The guard struck the back of his head with a bonk and slid to the floor.
Jack had braked immediately after striking the guard. The jar had thrown Simon off the bench, but Jack didn’t have time to worry about that yet. He slid out of the seat and dashed to the unconscious security man.
Blood pooled onto the floor from the back of the man’s head. Jack wasn’t sure the guard was going to make it. He shoved the thought aside—he could feel guilty for this later, provided he got away.
Working fast, Jack stripped the guard of his gun, holster, and knife, as well as his badge and black cap. The hat had dislodged with the brutal strike and thus wasn’t bloody. With the items, he raced back to the cart.
Simon picked himself off the floor, holding a bloody nose. “You could have told me you were going to do that,” he said nasally.
Jack hadn’t known his own plan until the moment he acted.
“Get in,” Jack said. They had run out of time. “The bloody nose should actually help us.”
A second after Simon boarded, Jack backed up as he switched caps yet again. He put on the new badge and accelerated out of the middle building. People and carts raced everywhere outside. He observed those nearest him and copied their demeanor. In the distance, he saw the big man striding, shouting orders, holding his hand cannon.
Jack kept his features steady as the minutes passed. They covered ground much faster in the cart. He aimed for the place they had stashed their night vision equipment and black garments. It was—
Jack took his foot off the accelerator, letting the cart slow down naturally.
“What’s wrong?” Simon said.
“Nothing,” Jack said, his partner’s words helping him to shake off the disappointment.
Security people had found their stash, a man running with one of the bags of clothes, another carrying the suppressed rifle.
Simon looked up and saw that. “Now what are we going to do?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “That’s a good question.”
-14-
UNDERWATER
100 MILES OFF THE COAST OF SUMATRA
It was like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon with an aqua-knight riding a dolphin mount. Selene adjusted the controls, propelling them down at a sharp angle. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to witness a marvel of high-tech lancing.
The great white seemed to be all teeth with a vast underbelly. Forrest twisted around, holding the eighteen-foot fiberglass pole with both hands. He judged it perfectly, barely nudging the tube against the monstrous predator. The great white supplied the needed pressure.
There was a flash of bubbles and then blood. The precision of the great white ended right there. The speed of its attack kept it going, but it hadn’t adjusted in time to go down sharply enough. Thus, the huge body passed over them.
Selene had a moment to spy the destruction just under the distinctive snout. The blast had shredded the flesh. More blood poured from the beast. The tiger had veered away at the blast, but it would likely come back to investigate soon enough. Nothing made sharks go berserk with a feeding frenzy like blood in the water. They would cannibalistically devour the giant denizen of the deep.
Selene’s adrenaline kicked in all the way now, making her heart hammer and her mouth dry.
“I don’t ever want to do that again,” Forrest rasped. He let go of the used bang stick. “Hand me yours just in case another shark shows up.”
Selene handed Forrest her bang stick with a trembling arm. “Wow,” she told him.
“Yeah, I’d love to go back and cut out its teeth. Then, I could string them in a necklace and wear it around my neck instead of the gold chain. I’d wait, you know, for someone to ask. ‘What’s with the shark teeth?’ Then, I’d just causally tell them how I lanced the bastard while riding around the ocean with a long-legged doctor of underwater geology. You know, of course, that no one would ever believe the story. That’s what would make it perfect.”
Selene shook her head. She thought she’d gotten a read on the man. Now, she wasn’t sure again. Why would no one believing the story make it perfect? That didn’t make sense.
“You’re a strange man,” she said.
“True, but I’m loveable. That’s the important thing.”
“No,” she said. “You’re definitely not loveable, but you’re good at what you do.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” he said, “just talking to let out steam.”
Selene didn’t buy that. The man had to be the coolest, most collected person she’d ever met. He’d pull guns against anyone and had just killed the deadliest murderer of the ocean as if he did it every day.
“How far are we from target?” Forrest asked.
“Target?”
He laughed lightly. “Forgive me the military lingo, doc. Old habits die hard. How far are we from your object?”
“We should be there soon,” Selene said.
The T-9 continued to descend, but she brought them down at a lesser angle than before. She wanted to give their bodies time to adjust to the greater depth and pressure.
The DPV moved through the light zone, or as it was technically called, the euphotic zone. Euphotic meant “well lit” in Greek. That was the upper ocean zone where sunlight penetrated during the day. That could be as little as fifty feet in murky water to the depth of 660 feet with perfect clarity. Fortunately for them, the water was almost crystal clear, allowing the sunlight deeper penetration.
The euphotic zone had all the plant growth due to photosynthesis. The plant growth meant that almost all the fishes in the sea lived near the surface, at least comparatively speaking. The average ocean depth was somewhere around 1400 feet. It would be cold and dark that far down with incredible pressure per square inch.
Selene kept watch of the GPS coordinates, battery power and the Doppler velocity log. They were moving fast, going deeper and deeper.
There was a ridge out here much higher than the regular ocean floor. The object was embedded there. If it had been on the regular sea floor out here, Selene would have needed a bathyscaphe to reach it.
For a time, neither of them spoke. They monitored their mixed air regulators, making adjustments as needed. Bubbles rose every time either of them exhaled. That must have been new for Forrest, who’d used a rebreather as a SEAL. Rebreathers didn’t release as many bubbles to give a secret diver away.
“Look,” Selene said. “Do you see the ridge?”
“I do. It’s a smudge from here.”
It was an underwater mountain range. Selene made a course correction and throttled back on speed. She didn’t want to descend too fast this deep down.
“Want to make any bets on what the object is going to be?” Forrest asked.
Did he sound strained? Selene wasn’t sure. Finally, she decided it must be a trick of the ultrasound. The man was cool under fire. This was his natural environment.
“Could it be an old submarine?” Forrest asked.
“Is that what you think it will be?”
“I have no idea, doc. Just talking
to pass the time.”
“Or ‘cause you’re nervous?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said in his callous way. “That’s it. You have me pegged, doc.”
“I think it will most likely be a beginning volcano, a new type.”
“Yeah?”
“We’ll see soon enough,” she said. It had gotten gloomier with the deeper water absorbing much of sunlight’s qualities.
Selene wasn’t surprised she could feel her heart thudding in her chest. The GPS monitor told her they were close. Visibility had lessened. They passed over rocks and strange underwater growths. A fish swam lazily in and out of view. Most of the marine creatures were higher in the light zone.
Then she saw the huge object, and it must have been a trick of the dim light. The object seemed metallic, shiny like a steel-plated automatic. She could accept dark metallic of a submarine or sunken ship variety, but not this.
“What are you making of this?” Forrest asked.
“Let’s get just a little closer.”
After Selene said that, fear boiled in her, and she didn’t know why. What was the shiny metal thing? Why would—?”
She gasped, flabbergasted. “Forrest,” she whispered.
“I’m seeing it,” he whispered back.
Selene could see the object. There was no mistaking the sight. Firstly, it was huge, much bigger than she had realized. Secondly, it wasn’t a volcano. It was a dome, a steel dome, the very top of it, anyway. It was embedded in the underwater mountain a little to the left of the peak.
“Forrest,” she said, her word choking off because right then, an eerie blue nimbus glowed from the bottom edge of the dome.
-15-
ARDENNES FOREST
FRANCE
From its location behind the inner perimeter fence, the beast listened to the sirens, the shouted commands and the rush of booted feet. It watched the mayhem, reminded of the ants it had once studied from a colony it had dug up with its paws.
This must have come about from the two who had slunk through its territory.
The beast considered that for a time. Then, it noticed a cart with a driver and a rider with a bloody nose. They edged toward the perimeter some distance from here. No one else seemed to pay attention to those two. The driver got out, went to the rider and helped him to his feet. The two men moved to a building, slipping behind it and out of view of the rest of the scurrying population.
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