“Exactly.” Billy paused. “This is a perfect opportunity to find out how these things work. I want to go check it out.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” Rachel said.
“Look, if I can figure it out, we might be able to dismantle others. Jordan’s already started the process of trying to locate more. Don’t you see? This will save lives.”
“Do it,” Matt said. “Take whoever you need with you.”
“Shouldn’t we talk this over?” Rachel asked.
“We don’t have time. If there’s a way to stop these things, we need to know that now.”
Rachel frowned but made no further arguments. Matt knew what she was thinking, though. Even if Billy figured out how to dismantle the death box, it would probably be too little too late.
28
I.D. MINUS 29 HOURS
THE DOP RECEIVED his regular morning briefing from Foster, the night watch officer, at six a.m. on the dot in his quarters.
“There have been no additional problems with the situation in Buenos Aires. We’ve hired some local freelancers to keep an eye on Patricia Mendes in case she tries to stir up anything.”
The DOP waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We’re too close for anything she might say to matter at this point. You can let her be.”
“Very well, sir.” Foster provided updates for several other minor incidents, including the small outbreak in Mumbai, India. “It appears to be contained with no further infections.”
The DOP sensed hesitation. “What is it?”
“It seems, sir, that the two nurses watching the patients have…left.”
“What do you mean, left?”
“When the next shift came on, they weren’t there. It’s believed they fled.”
“Are they Project members?”
“Yes, sir. Um, some of their cache of vaccine is missing.”
The DOP stared at him. “They stole vaccine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Unbelievable, the DOP thought. “Put their names on a list to be dealt with after everything is over. This kind of lack of loyalty cannot be tolerated.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Has there been any information leak on the outbreak?”
“None.”
“Good.” An outbreak associated with the people working on the “malaria problem” could have caused some serious questions to be raised, and jeopardized their operations not only in Mumbai but other places where they were using the method.
“What’s next?”
“Have not heard back yet from the team at Grise Fiord,” Foster said.
The men at Grise Fiord had reported the arrival of a science group the previous evening, and were going to check them out, but it wasn’t unusual for them to take up to twenty-four hours to learn anything useful.
“All right,” the DOP said, glad that these types of issues were not something he’d have to think about for much longer.
“Our lookout in Savissivik reports that the Danish cultural committee is leaving as scheduled this morning for the south,” Foster said.
Savissivik on the northwestern coast of Greenland and Grise Fiord in Canada were the two closest manned locations to Yanok Island, so it had always been a priority to keep an eye on them.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. There’s a storm heading our way.”
“When?”
Foster smiled. “Just in time for Implementation Day.”
The DOP chuckled. He liked the idea of that.
The briefing finished, Foster headed off to bed while the DOP got dressed. He then went to the cafeteria for a leisurely breakfast before joining Major Ross in the Cradle.
They were approaching twenty-four hours from activation, the moment he’d been working toward for so many years. The anticipation was intoxicating. He wanted to make sure he savored every last second of it.
29
BILLY ARRIVED IN Cleveland just after seven a.m. via a chartered jet. He’d brought only one other person with him, a woman named Karen Pruitt. She had a degree in electrical engineering, and was one of the people who kept the Ranch’s equipment running.
After obtaining a rental car, it took them only a few minutes to get to the container’s location, just as the early winter sun was coming up. Live and in person, the lot looked even more abandoned than it had from above. There was a rusty chain-link fence, topped by three strands of barbed wire, surrounding the entire lot, and another, slightly newer fence partially cutting the lot in half. The row of neglected vehicles was a mix of cars and a couple of old tow trucks. None looked like it’d been on the road for years.
Billy pulled the rental into one of the spaces at the west end of the lot, and got out. Though he could hear a low rumble coming from the freeway several blocks away, the area itself was quiet. At this early hour of the morning, he and Karen were probably the only ones around.
After exiting the car, Karen went to the trunk and removed the case containing the specialized tools and equipment they thought they might need. That was one of benefits of chartering a plane from a company the Ranch had worked with before—they didn’t have to worry about a security check. She joined Billy at the misaligned gate in the fence, only about twenty feet from where they’d parked.
Though the gate looked like it had been there for decades, the chain and lock holding the two halves together were new. Karen selected a couple tools from the case, set to work on the lock, and opened it in seconds.
From the sidewalk, the brown shipping container was out of view, blocked by one of the aging trailers, but as soon as they walked on the lot, they could see it. Billy’s first impression was that it was a normal container, just like the countless others he’d seen over the years in ports or on the backs of trucks and trains. Then he noticed the top edge. At the point where the side panel met the roof, there seemed to be a hinge. That was definitely not normal.
He pointed it out to Karen. “Goes all the way along the edge.”
She frowned, and disappeared on the other side. “Same over here, too,” she called out, then came back around to where he was. “I think the roof splits in the middle.”
Billy located the number at the top back corner of the box, and checked it against the one Jordan had seen on the container in the security footage. “Numbers match,” he said. “It’s definitely the same one.”
When they stepped around the far end, they found another surprise. While the doors for loading and unloading the container were right where they should be, the locking mechanism keeping them closed was decidedly not standard, and seemed to be attached to something within the box itself.
Karen set the case on the ground and moved in for a closer look. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Can you open it?”
“Maybe if I had time and the right software. But I don’t think I’d even want to try.”
“Why not?”
“If I got it wrong even once, what do you think the chances are something inside would be triggered? I mean, if this is one of the Project’s devices.”
“Then how are we going to see what’s inside?”
“Give me a few minutes.”
While she conducted a closer examination of the box, Billy pulled their communication gear from his jacket pocket, and put his wireless earpiece on. Matt’s one caveat for letting Billy come to Cleveland was that once he and Karen were on site, they had to be in constant communication with the Ranch.
“This is Billy. Anyone there?”
“This is Echo Four. I got you, Billy,” a voice said on the other end. He recognized it as belonging to Leon Owens, one of the communications operators.
“We’re on site, doing a visual check of the container.”
“All right. I’ll let Matt know.”
“Billy!” Karen called out. “Bring me the scanner, would you?”
Billy knelt down next to the tool case, and removed the scanner from inside. The device looked like a table
t computer, but was really a down and dirty imager that could see through solid objects for about half a foot. He brought it around and gave it to Karen, who held it against the side of the container and activated it. The image that appeared on the screen was grainy and devoid of color. As she moved it along the surface, shades of gray seemed to recede then start again.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it’s packed right up to the inside of the wall.”
When she was just a few feet from the end of the box, the screen became more black than gray.
“It’s empty right here,” she said. “I think we could probably cut through the wall and get in that way. Can you bring the case over?”
Billy retrieved the tools, and Karen pulled out a compact metal cutting torch that had been included in their kit.
“Billy? It’s Matt.”
Billy touched his earpiece. “I’m here.”
“So what have you found?”
“It’s definitely the same container. Not sure beyond that yet. One thing we do know is that it’s been modified.” He explained about the roof and the odd locking setup, then told him about the scans. “Karen’s cutting a hole in the side. Once she’s done, we should be able to see what’s going on inside.”
“All right.” Matt paused. “Billy, I have some bad news.”
Billy stepped away from the container so he could hear better. “What?”
“The student in St. Louis, the one who got sick?”
“Yeah?”
“He died an hour ago.”
That wasn’t unexpected, but Billy had hoped his prognosis had been wrong. “I’m sorry to hear that. What about the others?”
“That’s actually the bad news.”
“Oh, no. How many?”
“No other deaths yet, but the number of infected just reached one hundred percent.”
Billy’s lips parted in resignation. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Dear God.”
“Find us an answer there, Billy. We’re counting on you.”
A few minutes later, Karen turned off the torch and removed a two-and-a-half-foot-square section of the container’s wall. As they’d seen on the scan, there was nothing in the immediate space beyond. Karen moved right up to the opening and slowly stuck her head inside.
“Careful,” Billy said.
“There’s a wire mesh netting about a foot away from me. Goes clear across. Looks like it’s supposed to keep everything on the other side from moving into this part.”
“What’s it holding back?”
“Metal drums and hoses running between them, and….” She paused. “You know what I think?”
He was standing beside her now. “What?”
“This is definitely a delivery device. There are hoses hooked into rails along the top. Looks to me like what’s in the barrels is supposed to be turned into an aerosol and shot through the roof. If the wind catches it, God knows how far it will spread.” She twisted around and looked toward the short end of the box. “Huh.”
“What is it?”
“Can you hand me a flashlight?”
She held out a hand without removing her head from the hole. Billy grabbed a flashlight from the case and gave it to her. She shined the beam around for a few seconds before extracting herself from inside.
“There’s a control system mounted on the wall. I think I can hook into it with my laptop and download whatever information it might contain.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s pretty straightforward. I don’t think they ever expected anyone to get in like we did.”
Though Billy wasn’t as confident as she was, he nodded his agreement and reported to Matt, who agreed it was worth a try.
Karen retrieved a cable from the case, snipped off one end, and attached a different type of connector to it. She hooked the other end into her laptop, and motioned for Billy to stand right next to her.
“Hold the computer as close to the opening as you can, so I have as much play with the cable as possible.”
“Sure.”
Though a small woman, she was just barely able to get both her arms and head inside. She grunted a few times, her body stretching and twisting, then she let out a brief “Ha” of triumph, and pulled herself back out.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” she said, turning the computer so she could type on the keyboard. It took several seconds, but finally she smiled. “I’m in.”
Billy touched his earpiece. “We’re linked into the container’s computer.”
“Excellent,” Matt said, sounding relieved. “And?”
“Hold on. Karen’s sorting through things right now.”
“It’s pretty bare bones,” she said. “Looks like there’s some kind of communication module. Most likely the way the Project remotely contacts the container. If we look hard enough, we’d probably find an antenna built into the roof.” She paused. “Huh. What’s this?”
Billy leaned over so he could see the screen, but it was full of unreadable code, at least to him.
She shook her head. “I think it’s just a…wait a minute…” She stared at the screen, her eyes widening in concern.
“What is it?” Billy asked.
“I…I thought it was just a normal clock. You know, to sync computers. But…” She looked at him. “It’s a countdown.”
The reality of what she said hit him immediately. “How much time?”
“No…no, this can’t be right.”
“Karen! How. Much. Time?”
She studied the readout and clicked a few keys. “Oh, shit. Run!”
__________
BILLY HAD LEFT his mic on so Matt could hear everything.
“No…no, this can’t be right,” Karen said.
“Karen! How. Much. Time?”
A brief pause, then, “Oh, shit. Run!”
Before another word could be spoken, a loud rumble burst over the line, then the signal cut out.
“Billy?” Matt said. “Billy, can you hear me? What’s going on there?”
“We’ve lost the signal,” Leon said as he typed in commands on his computer, trying to reconnect the signal. “I can’t get through. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Matt threw the headphones off. “Keep trying!” he ordered as he moved to the empty station on Leon’s right.
The others in the communications room started crowding around Leon and Matt. Fearing the worst, Matt searched online for feeds from Cleveland-area radio stations. He found a news station, and pumped it through the external speakers.
For several tense minutes, there was nothing. Matt wanted to think it had just been an equipment failure, but couldn’t. Then, as if to confirm his intuition, the announcer said, “We are just receiving reports of a large explosion south of the airport. As of yet, there is no information on the cause. We have a reporter on his way to the scene, and should have more in a few minutes.”
Though there was no reason to listen any longer, Matt let the radio play. It was soon determined that the explosion did not involve any aircraft and seemed completely unconnected to the airport. According to the on-scene reporter, a two-block area of industrial-type buildings had taken the brunt of the damage. Unnamed fire department contacts said it had been a particularly intense blast, but so far no bodies had been discovered.
The people at the Ranch knew it wouldn’t stay that way.
30
I.D. MINUS 17 HOURS 42 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 5:18 PM
ASH WOULD NEVER again complain about the cold. Forget fire. The frigid Arctic was the true Hell.
“There it is,” Gagnon said.
Ash peered out the windshield and could just make out the lump of Yanok Island on the horizon through the near perpetual darkness of late afternoon. They were flying low in hopes of keeping their arrival a surprise, the ocean a mere thirty feet below the bottom of the plane.
Before leaving Grise Fiord, Ash
and Gagnon had gone over the map and decided their best approach would be from the southwest, the opposite end of the island from where the research station was located. Gagnon felt confident he could get the plane into the small inlet that was located at that point, and bring the team all the way up to the land. Ash was all for that. Anything that ensured solid ground under his feet was a good idea.
The closer they got to the island, the lower Gagnon took the plane, until it finally felt like they were just inches above the surface. As the pilot had warned them, the ice that had been missing from this part of the ocean only a week earlier had started to make its return, and the sea around Yanok was crusting over. The problem was, in some places it was barely an inch thick, while in others it was already over a foot.
“Hold on,” Gagnon said. “This might be rough.”
There was a handle next to Ash just below the window. He wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed tightly. He didn’t look in back to see how Chloe and Red were doing, but he doubted they were any more comfortable with this than he was.
With the island still half a mile away, Gagnon lowered the plane onto the ice. As smooth as it looked from even a height of ten feet above, it wasn’t. The craft jumped and lurched as it whipped across the frozen ocean. At one point, it leaped into the air for several feet before slamming back onto the surface. Still, the plane raced ahead.
“Shouldn’t we be slowing?” Ash asked, his voice raised above the roar coming from outside.
“Working on it,” Gagnon said.
With a bang, the right side of the plane raised into the air, the skid on that side having hit an uneven spot on the ice.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Red called out from the back.
For a second it seemed like the plane was going to right itself, but then a gust of frigid wind caught the underside. The opposite wingtip dug into the ice, pivoting the plane briefly into the air before the craft smashed down on its back.
It skidded forward, twisting around and around.
Ash and the others hung upside down, caught in their seats by their straps and unable to do anything as the plane slid across the ice. He had no idea which direction they were heading. He only hoped it wasn’t toward an area of open sea.
Exit 9 (A Project Eden Thriller) Page 20