Pipe Dreams

by Destiny Allison

  The pipe intersected with a smaller one that connected to a floor drain inside the plant. Dropping to their knees, the team killed their flashlights, donned night-vision goggles, and crawled into its narrow opening. When they reached the drainage tank, the point man lowered himself into it. Then he took out the camera and attached it to a telescoping rod he had stored on his belt. When the rod was fully extended, he poked the camera through the grate. Connecting the video feed, Malone turned on his laptop. After several minutes, he signaled an all clear.

  Two more men dropped into the hole. They worked together to attach ropes to the metal frame holding the grate. When the ropes were in place, they shimmied up, lifted the grate, and shoved it aside. Finally, they pulled themselves out of the drainage and onto the cement floor, forming a defensive perimeter while the rest of the team made the ascent. When everyone was in place, the grate was returned to its original position.

  Using night-vision, they surveyed the area. The truck bay was empty and dark. Metal stairs led up to loading docks at regular intervals. A large rollup door was closed behind each of them. At the far end of the bay was a metal fire door. They crept toward it, making as little noise as possible in the cavernous space. When they reached it, they stopped to listen. Hearing nothing, the point man dropped to his belly and made a small hole between the door and its frame with a portable drill. Again, they used the camera to see into the empty office on the other side. CoCo tried the doorknob. It turned easily.

  Inside, a cheap, plastic blind covered a window on the interior wall. A small amount of light filtered through it. Cautiously, CoCo raised the bottom edge. The narrow slit revealed a dimly lit warehouse. Large pallet racks covered the floor, but he didn’t see any people. This was unexpected and made him nervous. Where were the guards?

  On a regular mission, his team would cut the power, create a distraction, and locate the target, but this was not a regular mission. Everything they did from this point forward would be based on instinct. CoCo didn’t like it at all. As he formulated a plan of action, his earpiece crackled. Startled, he jumped. There was not supposed to be a communication from base. The team was to make contact when they had something to report and only when safe for them to do so. He acknowledged the order and swore. They were to abandon their current location, return to the Zone, and attempt to apprehend a civilian.

  CoCo scratched his ear and considered the situation. Now inside the plant, it would be foolish to evacuate without doing some reconnaissance. Nevertheless, the order had been clear. The new coordinates were to take immediate priority.

  Unwilling to further divide the team, he would pull Bill and Don off their chase and send them to the new location. Once in place, they could determine whether the rest of the team was necessary. Apprehending civilians typically wasn’t difficult. Getting Ashley to stay put while they went in would likely be far more challenging.

  CoCo turned the channel on his radio and relayed the information to the other team, instructing them to communicate directly with base when and if they found anything. Bill’s voice through the earpiece was small and tinny when he replied.

  “Got it. Moving now.”

  “Okay. Keep me informed.” CoCo turned his attention back to the window and calculated his risks. Then, his mind made up, he turned to the team and laid out his plan.

  CHAPTER 49

  The story McGrath had told was mostly true, though it had been his brother who had mangled the fish. Regardless, he thought the comparison had merit. Things did go terribly wrong all the time. As his mother used to say, the road to hell was paved with good intentions. He thought it likely the men who had designed the NSO had been sincere in their desire to do good. God knows the world was in trouble and there had been no end to people thinking they were wise enough to fix it. Marx’s manifesto was a brilliant piece of work and Communism looked great on paper.

  Unfortunately, people were people. No system McGrath had ever seen had managed to effectively compete with the negative aspects of human behavior. In the end, every empire succumbed to Mother Nature or human greed. If history had taught him anything, the human component was by far the more dangerous of the two.

  As he waited for Vanessa to speak, McGrath studied her, gauging her reaction to his theory. A plethora of emotions crossed her face like a lightening storm – beautiful and frightening at the same time – while she looked out the window at the dark lake. The moon had not yet risen and the sky was a wash of stars. In the drab cafeteria, most of the lights had been turned off, but past the far end of the room, pots and pans clanked as the cooks cleaned up the kitchen for the night. Impatient, McGrath tapped his thumb on the table, craving a cigarette. Finally, Vanessa straightened.

  “Colonel, I appreciate your metaphor. It may even be accurate, but I’m not a child. I know who Isaac and my Papa were. No matter what else surfaces, I will always believe they were good men and I will always love them. None of that has anything to do with what is happening now. I didn’t survive this for nothing. I can’t always control how I react, but I’ll do my best. The NSO must be destroyed. If I can help you to do that, I will. But it is not for you. It is not even for all the people who will suffer if you fail. It is for my Papa. It is for my father. It is for the Kovalic name. I promised them it will endure and I intend to keep that promise.”

  A chill coursed through McGrath’s body. The determination in her voice, the steel in her eyes, and the square of her shoulders revealed a different Vanessa Kovalic. The strength of her conviction was the fire that fueled her. In spite of the brutality she had borne, the trauma she had witnessed, and her fractured composure, Vanessa was more than a survivor. She was a queen.

  Michael was having a similar reaction. If he was a lion, with his mane-like hair and cat eyes, she was the lioness. The realization showed in his posture. Until now, he had been casual, cocky, and guarded. Hearing her proclamation, he animated. As he leaned forward, curiosity, excitement, and respect replaced his affected apathy. Staring at Vanessa, his face alight, years fell off him and he appeared young, open, and in love. If McGrath hazarded a guess, Michael had glimpsed this part of her, but had never seen it fully exposed. The transformation was breathtaking. He wished he could bottle it to give back to her the next time her spirit flailed.

  The spell was broken when a uniformed young man burst through the cafeteria door. “Colonel, there’s an urgent message from the team,” he said. Instantly, McGrath was on his feet. Vanessa and Michael followed him to the command post. Technical equipment, including radar screens and brightly lit computer monitors, filled its darkened interior. At a large console on the right, another young man beckoned. McGrath donned a headset and his face fell. After a minute, he asked for details, instructing the person on the other end of the transmission to describe the scene like he was writing a book. The man objected and McGrath lost patience.

  “I don’t give a damn about radio silence! We’re running out of time. I need the details,” he yelled into the transmitter. A period of silence ensued while the team relayed the information. Then the colonel told them to wait for further orders. Stroking his jaw, he turned to Vanessa.

  “Harry Rose is dead,” he said.

  “Dead? How?”

  “Suicide, apparently. They found a note.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Forgive me. I have lost my faith and failed us all,” he recited. As Vanessa and Michael absorbed the news, McGrath continued.

  “But that’s not what’s strange. What’s strange is how they found him. He was sitting in a chair, wearing a prayer shawl. He had a yarmulke on his head and was holding the Torah. Vanessa, I thought you said none of the administrators were Jewish.”

  “They aren’t. Or I didn’t know. Harry never gave any indication that he…” She broke off, covering her mouth with her hands. Then she exclaimed, “Oh my god! That’s it. That’s what I’ve been trying to remember!”

  “What, Vanessa?” McGrath asked.

  “The mezuzah!
He had a mezuzah. I asked him about it once and he got embarrassed. He said it was gift from a close friend.”

  “Jesus Christ! The gifts. Do you think…?” McGrath spun around, picked up the transmitter, and shouted, “Look for a mezuzah!” Then he stopped and turned back to Vanessa. “What the hell is a mezuzah?”

  “It’s part of the mitzvah. Jews are required to place a parchment, inscribed with a specific prayer, in the doorframes of their homes. Usually, the parchment is located inside a small, decorative case. Harry’s was ornate. Intricately carved wood and gold letters. When I was there, it was in the door to his office.” Vanessa replied. McGrath relayed the information and waited while the team searched for the object. After a few minutes, he nodded.

  “Open it up,” he commanded. “I want to know what’s inside.”

  “Colonel, can we hear what’s being said?” Vanessa asked when he finished speaking. McGrath agreed, instructing his subordinate to put the conversation on speaker. It didn’t take long before a deep voice filled the room.

  “The writing’s really small. It’s hard to make out. There are a bunch of circles, with writing inside them, connected with short lines. I’m not sure what I’m looking at here,” it said.

  “Look carefully. Is there anything else, any kind of note?” McGrath urged.

  “No. Wait. Yes. There’s another piece of paper wedged inside. Hold on a second.” They listened while the man struggled to dislodge the paper. Then his voice came back.

  “It’s a message. I can just make it out. It says, ’Two of three. What has been built can be destroyed. Brothers, we are bound in faith. We are imperfect, but if it comes time to act, do not be afraid. I trust you implicitly. I always have. Get the antidote to the CDC. They will know what to do.’ The note is signed, ’With great affection, GK.’ Jesus. Is this what I think it is?” he asked.

  “It could be,” McGrath replied. He turned to Vanessa. “What made you think of this? Do you have any idea what the other gift might be, or who would have it?”

  “Yes. I knew there was something, some kind of connection between Harry and Isaac, but I couldn’t remember it. Isaac has the same mezuzah. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be strange. Lots of mezuzahs are exactly alike. But Harry wasn’t Jewish, or I didn’t think he was. Colonel, it has to be the other part of the formula. Isaac’s living room also served as his prayer room. The mezuzah was in that doorframe.”

  McGrath nodded, already talking into the transmitter. “Get back to your original coordinates. Check the doorframe in the living room. Hurry. And get me images of what you’ve got, ASAP.”

  “Ah, Colonel, there’s a bit of a problem with that. We’re short one intel officer. Sergeant Malone is with the rest of the team at the plant. It’s going to take some time to get back across the city and some time for him to meet up with us.”

  “Shit!” the colonel hissed. “Do what you need to do, but get on it.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the radio console. Then he barked at his subordinate, who had been rapt on the conversation.

  “Send a message to the Pentagon. Let them know we need the CDC involved. Any word back from intel on what we’ve sent them so far?”

  “Not yet, Colonel. I’ll let you know as soon as anything comes in.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Part of an elite force, CoCo and the five men who accompanied him had completed many difficult missions, but inching out of the small office and into the dimly lit warehouse, they were all edgy. CoCo didn’t have a good feeling about this one. Beneath the flickering, fluorescent lights, the team was vulnerable to a threat that couldn’t be deterred by the silenced M4 carbine in his arms, the sleek sidearm on his thigh, or the knife strapped to his chest. The defensive formation the team assumed across the concrete floor would not protect them. This mission was a different animal entirely. He had no idea what they faced. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his nerves. As team leader, he couldn’t let the men see his fear.

  At the end of the first row of empty pallet racks, they halted. The point man went low, aiming his rifle as he scouted the terrain. The second man stayed high. When the point man deemed it safe to move, they continued. They needed to get out of the warehouse and into the main part of the building. CoCo presumed blueprints would be stored in a security office or maintenance room. The blueprints would show power, water, and gas lines and reveal the location of a lab.

  As he rounded the corner of the giant rack, hairs on his neck stood up and his heart raced. The metal structures had been redesigned as cages, human cages. A thick piece of Plexiglas was attached to the ends of two sets of racks. The racks themselves had been covered with hardware cloth, making it impossible for the occupants to escape. In the first cage, four people slept on thin mats. Open sores covered their skin-and-bone bodies and the air around them smelled like rotting meat. CoCo stifled a scream and the urge to run. He had no idea what ailed them, but whatever it was, he didn’t want it. It took him a few paces to stop trembling and regain perspective. If these people suffered from something highly contagious, they wouldn’t be in a cage like this. They would be in a sealed, airtight room so they couldn’t expose passersby to their infection. Still, he couldn’t wait to get away from them.

  The team quickened its pace. He tried hard not to stare into the Plexiglas prisons as he passed. Each of them were a batch of misery he had only seen paralleled in African refugee camps where lack of food, clean water, and medical care was evident in every starving and forlorn face. The difference between here and there was the noise volume. The warehouse, save for the hum of electricity, was silent. Though some of the captives were awake, their hollow eyes tracked the team without comment. CoCo surmised they were too sick to care what happened next and, for that, he was grateful. The corridor was a death trap in every way.

  When they reached the last, towering pallet rack, they approached the interior wall of the warehouse. A series of closed doors ran along its face. Instinct told him to stay close to the exterior of the building so he chose the last one to his right. Too exposed to hook up the camera, they simply opened the unlocked door and kept their weapons ready.

  Flipping on their night-vision, they crept down a long, dark corridor. Each time they came to a door, they opened it, hoping to find something that showed the layout of the building. Most of the rooms were empty. A few were still furnished, but covered in dust. When they came to a T intersection, CoCo took the right hand turn. The hallway ended in front of a large conference room smelling of stale coffee.

  The team turned around, passed the intersection, and continued until forced to turn a corner. Pressing themselves flat against the wall, they waited for the point man to signal. When he didn’t, the sweat under CoCo’s arms grew cold. A door creaked and the sound of voices caused him to hold his breath. A man said goodnight, the door shut, and footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor. They waited several more minutes, but there was no further noise. Finally, they rounded the corner. About thirty feet in front of them, light shone through the cracks of doorframe on their left.

  All at once, CoCo changed his plan. There had only been two voices. The ensuing silence after the footsteps had faded indicated the person in the office was alone. He signaled to his team, using his hands to communicate his intentions. Then the team approached the door. They split, three on each side, and CoCo knocked.

  It didn’t take long before the door opened. A tall man with stooped shoulders stepped into the hallway. As he did, one of CoCo’s men grabbed him from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth. Another stepped in front and placed the point of his rifle on the man’s forehead. Then, in a low and threatening voice, the SEAL said, “Move and you’re dead.” The man complied, wide-eyed.

  CoCo’s men bound the captive’s wrists, gagged him with tape, and dragged him back to the truck bay. Once the drainage grate was open, they cut the zip ties on his wrists and freed his hands so he could grasp the rope. The point man dropped into the tank, followed by two more members of th
e team. As soon as they reached the bottom, they aimed their rifles at the opening in the floor. CoCo pointed to the rope and instructed the man to descend. He did as he was told.

  When he was down, CoCo lowered himself. The remaining men waited until he was clear before following. They paused, clinging to their respective ropes, while they pulled the grate back into its original position. The first SEALs were already climbing a collapsible ladder attached to the drainage pipe on the other side. The prisoner ascended next, trailed by the rest of the team. They scuttled through the narrow passage to the larger pipe on the far side of the street. When they arrived, they shoved their captive to his knees and aimed the flashlights attached to their rifles in his face.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them to the best of your ability. If you scream, we will kill you. If we think you are lying, we will hurt you. Am I clear?” CoCo said.

  The man nodded. He had sandy brown hair, a ruddy complexion, and a pug nose. Like a favorite uncle, he wasn’t tough or hardened. To his credit, however, he hadn’t wet himself and wasn’t shaking. He appeared only resigned. CoCo gestured to one of his men, who removed the gag from the prisoner’s mouth.

  “What’s your name?” CoCo asked.

  “Mac.”

  “Mac? Mac what?”

  “Devon Macgregor. I go by Mac.”

  “Okay, Devon Macgregor I go by Mac, we’re looking for something. You’re going to help us find it.” Mac nodded again. Wincing against the bright glare from the flashlights, he licked his lips and pushed himself into a kneeling position.