* I asked why we are here. *
"Not now," Quiz said to Dante.
The older woman seated next to Quiz shushed him with a crooked finger pressed against her lips. Quiz briefly considered smacking her in the ear with his hymnal. Deciding against it, Quiz reminded himself for the millionth time not to speak out loud when responding to Dante.
An attractive young woman in black watched Quiz interact with the boy. Her gaze was both admiring and lustful.
* For the love of God, will you please tell me why we are here. *
Because my parents are dead. And this is what people do to honor their deceased loved ones.
I am sorry. *
The attractive woman stood and moved to take a seat next to Quiz on the pew. Her hair was short and blond, and her muscular body was lean and firm. Her tight black top revealed an ample chest and prodigious cleavage.
“Hi Quiz.”
“Hey, DJ,” said Quiz to the communications operative. “How are you?”
A former German special-ops commando, DJ was as deadly as she was beautiful. “Okay. And you?”
“Same ole, same ole.”
For the life of me, I will never understand why you flirt
with women. *
It’s fun — and it’s that simple.
Very well. She does have certain interesting skills? *
That she does. Your vocabulary is improving. Or at least it isn’t still stuck in the fourteenth century.
Quiz smiled. Working with DJ in the Ops Center was a distraction, but of the pleasant variety, to be sure.
Chapter 5
ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
OFF THE COAST OF ANDALUSIA, SPAIN
Hawkeye led Isabella Cruz inside the Alamiranta through the upper deck to a glass-walled elevator. As they descended down into the ship, the elevator passed through the Alamiranta’s eleven-story central Atrium overlooking the Grand Promenade. It was filled with cafes, shops, offices, and Caine employees dressed in varying degrees of business attire.
The Atrium was beautifully appointed with marble, glass, and tile mosaics. A huge round aquarium dominated the central plaza on the bottom deck of the Atrium. Schools of brightly colored tropical fish swam in lazy circles around a faux-reef in the saltwater display.
“Do any diving?” asked Hawkeye, noting Cruz’s interest in the reef tank.
“Some. You?”
“Yeah, you might say I’ve done a little,” Hawkeye said.
He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his arm. Cruz could make out three words running beneath the faded ink emblem: Silent, Swift, Deadly. She traced the outline of the tattoo with a red-painted fingernail.
“Navy Seal?” she asked.
“Nope. Marine Force Recon.”
“Say again?”
“U.S. Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance. The special operations forces of the Marine Corp. Amphibious and deep ground surveillance, unconventional warfare, hostage rescue, that sort of thing,” said Hawkeye.
“I always wondered where you came from. In Baghdad, you were heavy on romance and short on talk.”
Hawkeye smiled. “My specialty was GOPLATS direct action raids. Gas and oil platforms.”
“Gas and oil platforms?” Cruz asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s how I first met Catherine Caine. My Force Recon squad enjoyed her hospitality after we raided an oil platform that had been seized by a rather short-sighted group of South American insurgents. That oil platform was owned by Caine Petroleum.”
When the elevator reached Deck Six, Hawkeye led Cruz away from the Atrium down a wide central corridor. The walls were paneled in dark teak and adorned with black and white photographs in ornate frames.
“Look,” said Cruz. “Can you tell me what this is about? Did I do something wrong?”
“Be patient,” said Hawkeye. “Caine will explain everything.”
A pair of armed guards stood vigil at the entrance to Catherine Caine’s inner sanctum. A third guard was seated at a security station in front of a computer screen. Hawkeye noted the odd name on his ID badge: Zoovas.
Cameras mounted high on the wall captured high-resolution images of Hawkeye and Cruz. The Alamiranta’s security system performed a facial recognition and biometric identification protocol that appeared on Zoovas’ monitor.
“Go ahead,” said the surly guard after confirming their identities.
Zoovas punched a key on his keyboard and the double doors behind him swung open. Hawkeye led Cruz past watchful sentries and into the Gallery.
Cruz stepped into the Gallery and stopped dead in her tracks, wholly unprepared for the wonder of the room beyond.
THE GALLERY, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
The Gallery was the ultimate private collection: museum, library, and cabinet of curiosities all combined in a grand space unlike anything Cruz had ever seen. Filled with historical relics, antique books, and rare artifacts, the Gallery occupied over two-thousand square meters on three maze-like levels.
Glass platforms, bridges, and stairways seemed to float in space among walls of walnut bookshelves and towering display cases. Etched glass and blue-tinted lighting added to the ambience of the Gallery.
“Oh . . . my . . . God.” Cruz stared in amazement.
“The Gallery seems to have that effect on everyone,” said Hawkeye.
High overhead, an early Soviet satellite hung from nearly invisible wires. A fully-articulated pterodactyl skeleton spread its wings above a suspended glass platform arranged as a seating area with overstuffed wing chairs and a dark leather couch.
Everywhere Cruz looked, another treasure seized her attention: a leather-bound tome gilded in gold and rubies; an enormous Mayan stellae carved with intricate glyphs.
Cruz was amazed to see the intact bow section of a Spanish galleon, complete with corroded iron cannons and a winged mermaid on the ship’s prow.
“That ship you’re admiring is the original Alamiranta,” said a female voice.
Catherine Caine stood on a suspended glass platform overlooking the Gallery. She was tall and exotically attractive, with dark eyes and a slender, shapely build. Shadows played across the angular planes of her face. Her hair was blond and stylishly cut.
“In 1751, a convoy of Spanish galleons sailed from Cuba loaded with gold and silver,” said Caine. “The Alamiranta was their flagship. They sailed up the east coast of Florida bound for Spain, but were caught in a hurricane. All seven ships were lost at sea.”
Caine continued her story as she walked down the steps of the Savorski crystal staircase connecting the floating platform with the main level of the Gallery.
“I hired the best historians from around the world to comb through the historical record. I outfitted a ship with the most advanced technology available and assembled a team of world-class divers. In six months, we did what no one had been able to accomplish in the last three hundred years.”
She paused.
“We discovered the wreck of the Alamiranta fourteen miles off the coast of south Florida. We found four other galleons from the fleet within a half-kilometer radius. The gold and silver we recovered was worth over 400 million Euros. I used a portion of the profits to retrofit this ship, the headquarters of the Caine companies. It seemed only fitting to christen her the Alamiranta.”
Cruz just nodded. In Catherine Caine’s commanding presence, she had difficulty forming words.
Caine reached the bottom of the stairway and joined Hawkeye and Cruz near the center of the Gallery.
“You know who I am?” Caine asked.
“Yes, of course,” said Cruz.
Caine fixed her with a serious look. “I have a problem. A rather serious problem. That’s why you’re here.”
Cruz finally found her voice. “What is it that I can do for you?” she asked.
It was difficult for Cruz to imagine any reason why Caine would take the extreme step of snatching her off the street in such dramatic fashion. After all, Caine had virtually limitl
ess resources at her disposal. What could Cruz offer that Caine could not obtain elsewhere?
“You were one of the lead engineers on the Savage Bay project on Es Vedra Island, were you not? I speak of the conversion of the former submarine base into the Triad Genomics research facility.”
“I was one of the primary engineers, yes. I was with the project from the beginning. Until it was completed, in fact.”
Caine nodded. She thought for a moment.
“Ms. Cruz, you have unique knowledge of the design and engineering of the facility. And I have a problem that requires your expertise. About six hours ago, we lost contact with the Savage Bay facility.”
“Lost contact?”
“All communications abruptly ceased,” she said. “Under normal circumstances, we can monitor telephone and internet communications from Savage Bay from the Operations Center here onboard the Alamiranta. We should have complete access to the facility’s systems and computer network. But Savage Bay has gone completely offline. It’s like a digital black hole. We have had zero contact with the facility for nearly four hours.”
“I hate to even suggest this, but perhaps there was some type of industrial accident,” Cruz ventured.
“There’s no evidence to suggest an accident. Satellite imaging shows no signs sign of an explosion, thermal event, or natural disaster.” Caine raised an eyebrow. “But we’re limited to above-ground imaging. We can’t get any infrared or detect anything within the facility below ground.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” said Cruz. “The Savage Bay complex was originally a hardened military installation. It was designed to withstand a thermonuclear strike. Far too much shielding to see through.”
“Actually,” said Caine, “we can see quite a bit when we’re in touch with the base’s main computer network.”
“What was the last communication from Savage Bay?” asked Cruz.
Caine drew her lips into a tight line.
“My daughter, Dominique Caine, is the project manager. Before Savage Bay went silent, I received one last message from Dominique. It was a single sentence: We’ve been deceived. Then nothing. That was four hours ago.”
Cruz was baffled.
“Our working hypothesis right now is that there has been an attack of some kind,” said Caine. “A hostile incursion. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense at this point.”
Cruz nodded.
“I’m sending in an armed tactical team,” said Caine. “Hawkeye and Titan Six deploy in three hours. We need you here on the Alamiranta in the Ops Center. We will be the ‘eyes in the sky’ for the insertion team. You and other members of our Ops team are going to help guide Titan Six through the facility.”
“Of course,” said Cruz, trying to ignore the cold lump in her stomach. “Whatever you need.”
THE GALLERY, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
Caine took Hawkeye aside for a private discussion. Cruz waited near the center of the Gallery, admiring a Mayan codex in a climate-controlled display case while Caine and Hawkeye took a walk through rows of ancient texts and leatherbound folios arrayed on mahogany shelves.
“Inch is still on injured reserve, yes?” said Caine, referring to the Titan Six team member who was known by the call sign Inch Deep. Hawkeye had given him the unusual moniker several years ago. Inch had an astounding range of superficial interests, constantly reading and watching hours of the Discovery and History Channels, picking up tidbits of knowledge on a huge variety of topics. Hawkeye once remarked that Inch was “a mile wide, but only an inch deep.” The nickname had stuck.
“He is,” said Hawkeye. “At least another three months of physical therapy before Inch is fit to resume active duty.”
Inch had torn a meniscus and broken a collar bone during Titan Six’s last operation, the same mission that had put Touchdown in a wheelchair.
“Who are you selecting for the insertion team?” asked Caine.
“Tank, of course. Gator. And Shooter. That leaves one slot open.”
“I’d like you to consider adding Pyro to the squad,” said Caine. “I’ve reviewed his file. I think he’s ready for the major leagues. All personnel decisions are yours to make, of course, but I think he’s a solid choice. And with Inch out of commission, you need someone with an explosives and munitions background to take his place on the insertion team.”
Pyro and nine other operatives trained regularly with Titan Six. Like the B-team of a sports franchise, they waited on the bench until an injury or retirement opened up a spot on the team.
“I’m sure the fact that Pyro’s father is the Deputy Prime Minster of Japan didn’t hurt his chances of catching your eye,” said Hawkeye.
“It’s always nice to have friends in high places,” said Caine. “But Pyro’s qualifications stand on their own.”
“I agree. He’s the perfect choice.”
Caine smiled. “Excellent. I’ll send word for Pyro to meet you at the Armory in five minutes. He’s in for a few surprises.”
Hawkeye returned the smile. While many of Titan Global’s employees suspected that members of Titan Six were given access to advanced technology and physical enhancements, no one understood just how much progress had been made by Titan Global’s research scientists.
The Armory was a nickname for the Advanced Research Projects Facility located on Deck Three of the Alamiranta. Catherine Caine started the Armory several years ago with scientists who formerly worked at DARPA — the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency — an agency of the United States Defense Department responsible for the development of new technology for use by the American military.
In its prime, DARPA had attracted many of the best and brightest minds from MIT, Stanford, and CalTech. But now the first choice for many ambitious graduates in various cutting-edge fields of science was a position at the Armory, widely known as the most advanced private defense research program in the world.
“Do you think Pyro’s ready to learn the truth?” asked Caine.
Hawkeye nodded. “I think Pyro’s been waiting for this moment for years.”
Chapter 6
NINE HOURS BEFORE THE SAVAGE BAY HALO JUMP
OPS CENTER
Armed guards escorted Catherine Caine and Isabella Cruz down to Deck Six of the Alamiranta. The opulence and style of the ship’s upper decks was replaced by a high-tech, functional design. After a few minutes, they reached a large door at the end of a corridor that dead-ended in the center of the ship.
“This is the Ops Center,” said Caine. As they approached the door, the Alamiranta’s security system scanned an RFID chip implanted in Caine’s shoulder. Cameras mounted in the corridor captured Caine’s image, and the system confirmed her identity. The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.
Cruz followed Caine through the doorway into a square, empty room with glass walls. Beneath her feet, Cruz saw a hydraulic mechanism below the transparent floor.
“Is this -- ”
Before Cruz could finish her question, the entire glass room began to slowly descend into the lower levels of the Alamiranta.
“ -- an elevator,” said Cruz, finishing her question.
They descended two levels before stopping in the Ops Center. The glass door of the elevator platform slid open and Caine led Cruz into the Command and Control Center of Titan Global.
The Ops Center was a large, round room with a blue-grey marble floor and a ring of workstations encircling a raised platform in the center. The workstations, filled with computers and video displays, were manned by uniformed Titan Global technicians staring intently at their screens, their faces illuminated by flickering images.
High overhead, xenon lights cast a faint bluish glow over the room. An elevated observation catwalk ran around the perimeter of the Ops Center one floor above. The air smelled faintly of hot electronics and ozone.
Mounted flat-panel screens covered the walls displaying video and data feeds from around the globe. On one screen, satellite imagery showed Es Vedra Island
off the coast of Spain. A communications feed scrolled down another. Other screens were dark.
Cruz’s attention was drawn to the large, circular platform in the middle of the Ops Center. Floating above the platform was a semi-transparent, 3-D image of Es Vedra Island that slowly rotated on a horizontal axis. The central mountain ridge of the island rose above sheer cliffs and narrow coves. Small flickering waves crashed against the virtual rocky isle.
“A holographic display,” said Caine. “Computer-generated. It creates a virtual real-time display compiled from satellite imagery and data feeds.”
Two other persons were seated in the room: an older, bearded gentleman, and a young man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt,
“From the Ops Center,” said Caine, “we observe and guide the Titan Global teams during field operations. Titan Six is our elite unit. We will be monitoring Titan Six on the ground during the operation and will provide command and control support. But we are much more integrated with the ops team than a traditional military unit. Each member of Titan Six wears a helmet-mounted camera and a tactical suit loaded with sensors to monitor their physiology and gather data from the surrounding environment. We’ll be able to watch everything from here, in the Ops Center, in real-time.”
Caine pointed to the large monitors that covered the walls. “When Titan Six deploys in the field, there will be a separate display for each operative, showing their helmet cam video feed and sensor data.”
“So we see everything they see?” asked Cruz.
“And more,” said Caine. “The system virtually enhances the video feeds with other data. The technology is based on the concept of augmented reality: a live view of the real-world enhanced by computer-generated input layered on top of the image.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Cruz.
“Let me give you an example. If we were looking at the video feed of a city street, the computer might add a layer of graphics identifying each building, displaying the temperature and humidity, showing the names of cross-streets, and so forth.”
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