The Ark tl-1

by Boyd Morrison

  The General gave a dismissive wave. “She can’t tell him anything. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I will worry about it,” Locke said heatedly. “She’s my responsibility.”

  The General put his index finger on Locke’s chest. “What you should be worried about is that Garrett will be on alert now, which puts our plans in jeopardy. We’re attempting an assault on their compound tonight.”

  “You mean on Orcas Island?”

  The General nodded. “We did some checking on your guess that his facility on Orcas is where the bunker is located. The FBI found a record of earthmoving equipment leased for use on his property. The only problem is, if there is a bunker there, there should have been a substantial amount of earth removed, and state records show no permits for that kind of disposal. We still haven’t figured out what happened to the dirt.”

  “It’s still there,” Locke said.

  “Where?”

  “Inside those hangars. I did some calculations. Based on the size of the bunker, those hangars could easily hold the dirt and rock that was excavated.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “It’s the only thing that fits.”

  “Well, we’re going to make sure tonight,” the General said.

  “How?”

  “We’re going to infiltrate the compound. Once our ground-penetrating radar is on site, we can verify that there are underground chambers there. We’ve already checked his other labs. This prion agent wasn’t found in any of them. It must be underground.”

  “How are you assaulting the lab?”

  “With a full platoon of Delta Force. The compound is heavily guarded. It might be impossible to get in, so we have a backup plan. We either have to secure the agent for ourselves, or we need to destroy it before it’s released.”

  “What about Dilara?”

  “She’s not a mission priority.”

  “Then I’m going with the team,” Locke said.

  The General glowered at him. “The hell you are.”

  “What’s your intel on the internal bunker schematics?”

  “We don’t have any,” the General said grudgingly.

  “You’re going in blind?”

  “We don’t have any other choice.”

  “Yes, you do. I saw the original specs. I know how they designed and built the bunker.”

  The General looked up at the ceiling as if searching for some other alternative. Locke knew there was none.

  “Dad, you know that for this mission to have any chance, I need to be on the ground with them.”

  “And if he’s going,” Grant said, “I’m going.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Locke said.

  “Have I ever volunteered for something I didn’t want to do?”

  “Only if you thought you’d get laid as a result.”

  Grant smiled. “No chance of that here.”

  “Okay, enough!” the General growled. “Against my better judgment, you’re both going. Tyler’s got the expertise we need, which is the reason I invited you here in the first place.”

  “For what?” Locke asked.

  Someone in the trailer called out, “One minute to release.”

  “Have you heard of MOP?”

  “The Massive Ordnance Penetrator?” Locke recalled it from an article in the International Journal of Propellants, Explosives, and Pyrotechnics.

  “That’s right. Boeing has been developing it for us specifically to target underground bunkers holding weapons of mass destruction. I never thought we’d use it on our own soil. We’re doing final testing today. If it succeeds, I’ve been authorized to use it to take out Oasis.”

  “You mean, that’s your backup plan, sir?” Grant said.

  “If we can’t get in and neutralize it by conventional means, yes.” The General turned back to Locke. “So my question for you, Captain, is will it work?”

  Locke recalled the specs on the bomb. At 20 feet long and 30,000 pounds, it was heavier than the infamous MOAB, the Massive Ordnance Air Burst bomb, and could destroy bunkers that were up to 200 feet below ground.

  Locke was aghast. “There are 300 men and women in that bunker,” he said. Including Dilara.

  “That should make sure you understand the lengths the president is willing to go to keep this prion agent from being released. So I repeat, will it work? Will it completely destroy Oasis?”

  Locke nodded solemnly. “If they built it according to the original specs, it’ll wipe out the entire facility.”

  The timer was counting down from ten, and a voice accompanied it. One of the screens showed a view from a chase plane of the B-52 that was carrying the MOP. When the count reached zero, a huge bullet-shaped bomb fell from the B-52, which banked away once the bomb was clear.

  “Thirty seconds to impact,” the countdown voice said.

  “Dad,” Locke said, “you’re making a mistake. We aren’t even sure that this agent would be destroyed by the bomb.”

  “There are 5300 pounds of explosive in that bomb. Whatever isn’t incinerated will be buried in the rubble.”

  “But we’re talking about 300 lives.”

  “The President agrees with our assessment. Those lives are expendable to make sure this threat is neutralized. If you want to save those people, make sure you secure that compound before 2100.”

  The airman reached the end of the countdown. “Three…two…one…”

  For a fraction of a second, Locke could see the enormous bomb that plunged into the side of the mountain. A moment later, the microphone on the camera picked up a rumble deep within the mountain. The side of the mountain rose then collapsed, creating a depression 300 feet across and 40 feet deep. Dust cascaded into the air, but the explosion was too far underground to blast outward. The trailer erupted in cheers and applause, but Locke was chilled by the fearsome sight.

  “The cave that MOP just destroyed was buried in 125 feet of granite,” the General said.

  “The rock at Orcas Island isn’t as strong,” Locke said.

  “You still want to go?”

  Even more now, Locke thought as he nodded.

  “You’re a stubborn bastard,” the General said with a hint of a smile. “Just like your father. All right. You’ll have until 2100 hours tonight to give us the all-clear. After that, I’ll have no choice but to turn Garrett’s compound into a crater.”

  “When does the assault begin?”

  “We can’t give them any time to prepare. It’s set for 2000 hours, Pacific time, enough time for complete darkness to set in. We estimate that if Oasis can’t be breached in one hour, it won’t happen and the team’s been eliminated. That puts us in serious danger of losing containment of the bioweapon.”

  “We’ll make it,” Locke said.

  “I’m heading up the joint operation,” the General said with an steely gaze directly at Locke. “And I will order that bomb dropped at exactly 2100 hours if I don’t hear from you. Don’t be late. That’s an order, son.” Then the General turned away to speak with the colonel again. They were dismissed.

  Locke could hear the helicopter outside spooling up its engine. He and Grant would have to move fast if they were going to coordinate with the strike team.

  He looked at his watch. Just eight hours until the assault.

  Oasis

  FORTY-FOUR

  When Garrett’s private jet had flown over the Seattle metro area, Dilara had finally known where they were, but it didn’t make a difference. On the helicopter ride from the airport to Orcas Island, there had been no chance for her to make an escape.

  They arrived at some kind of compound with a mansion that lorded over the estate. She had been hustled through a security pass-through, and then onto an elevator that went down, taking her underground. The panel had seven buttons on it. When the doors opened at Level 3 to reveal a hallway bustling with people, she understood the purpose of the warren. Oasis. The refuge that would hold these people until it was safe to reemerge once the bioweap
on had done its job.

  A bear of a man with a shaved head met them at the elevator. He was flanked by two other men heavily armed with submachine guns.

  “Status?” Garrett demanded.

  “All our members are accounted for and inside Oasis.”

  “Good. We’re going on lockdown immediately. Dr. Kenner, this is Dan Cutter. He’ll take you to your quarters.” Garrett turned back to Cutter. “Give me two hours. Then we’ll begin the interrogation.” With Petrova at his side, he got back in the elevator.

  Cutter and the two men behind him took Dilara by the arm and led her to a room that was more lavishly appointed than she expected. It was the size of a cruise ship cabin, with a small bathroom to the side. The bed, nightstand, and dresser were antiques. A change of clothes lay on the bed, and a pair of shoes were on the floor.

  “You can wear that, or you can stay in your dress and high heels,” Cutter said. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

  He slammed the door behind her and locked it. She heard him tell one of the two men to stay behind and guard the door. The footsteps retreated down the hall. Dilara had never felt so alone.

  She wasn’t going to wear the dress. Though the odds of her overpowering a trained soldier were slim to none, she needed to be in more practical clothes to make her move when the time came. There were probably cameras in the room, but there was no use trying to find them. If she covered them up, they’d be in here immediately.

  She’d been in the field too many times, where privacy was not always the greatest concern, to let voyeurs embarrass her, but she didn’t want to give them more of a show than she had to. She changed into the new outfit, covering herself with the shirt before taking off her dress. The clothes fit surprisingly well, even the tennis shoes. Going to the bathroom was more uncomfortable, but she had no choice, again keeping herself covered from prying eyes.

  Then all she could do was wait, so she sat on the bed and meditated. She was brought some food, but she didn’t eat it and only drank water from the faucet in the bathroom. She was used to going all day without eating when she had to. If they wanted to drug her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

  She was so deep in her meditation that when the door opened, she only vaguely noticed it. Cutter grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The lab. We have some questions.”

  He heaved her to her feet and pushed her in front of him out the door.

  They made a turn into a longer hallway and entered a laboratory. Garrett stood to the side with a rail-thin 40-year-old man whose white hair matched his lab coat.

  The lab held three pieces of furniture: a chair that wouldn’t be out of place in a dentist’s office, an examination table, and a seat for the doctor. The counter along one wall held a sink and various pieces of electronic equipment. It looked like one of the rooms that would serve as a medical infirmary during their stay underground.

  Cutter guided her to the dental chair.

  “Sit.” It wasn’t a choice. Once she was in the chair, she nervously watched as Cutter strapped her wrists to the armrests. The calm reprieve of her meditation was already distant.

  “Listen, Sebastian,” Dilara said, “I’m willing to tell you anything you want to know.”

  “That may be true,” Garrett said, “but I can’t take your word for it. I don’t have time. My men will be activating the devices tomorrow, and I have to be sure that they won’t be intercepted.”

  “How would I know that?”

  “You seemed to know a lot before. I’ve received news that both FBI Special Agent Perez and Dr. Tyler Locke were killed in a shootout on board the Genesis Dawn. Therefore, you are now my only link to what Tyler knew.”

  Dilara’s heart sank at the news of Locke’s death. Garrett didn’t seem to be lying.

  “I know this is a shocking confirmation for you,” he said. “You must realize that no one knows where you are now. You’re alone. All you have is us.”

  She strained at the wrist straps, but they wouldn’t budge. “You’re going to drug me anyway?”

  “Dr. Green will do the injection. It’s a new serum that my company developed for the CIA. A more reliable variant of sodium amytal. It won’t hurt, but there is a risk to its use because it depresses nervous system functions. That’s why a medical professional will administer it.”

  “I swear I don’t know anything!”

  Garrett ignored her. “Dr. Green, let’s begin.”

  Green walked to the counter and stuck the needle of a large syringe into the cap of a bottle and withdrew 20cc’s of a clear fluid. He swabbed the vein on her left arm with rubbing alcohol.

  “You’re a doctor,” Dilara said to Green. “Please don’t do this.”

  Green smiled. “You’ll feel a small poke.” Then he jabbed the needle into her arm.

  She felt the cool fluid flow into her vein. When the plunger was all the way down, Green removed the needle.

  “It should reach its full efficacy in five minutes. Dilara, I want you to count backwards from 100.”

  She was already feeling woozy. She shook her head.

  “I’m not doing anything!” She pulled at the restraints until her veins bulged.

  “This will be easier for you if you don’t struggle.”

  “Let me go!”

  Then as if someone turned off a light switch, the room went black and her head seemed like it was plunged into a bucket of ice water. Green’s voice became indistinct and faded until she sensed nothing at all.

  * * *

  “What happened?” Garrett asked. She wasn’t supposed to pass out. She was supposed to be awake to answer his questions.

  “She dropped her blood pressure and lost consciousness,” Green said as he pointed a pen light into her eye. “As I said before, it happens in five percent of cases. Let’s get her on the table.”

  Green had told Garrett about the potential risks. He could tell Green wanted to say I told you so, but the doctor didn’t dare.

  “Help him,” Garrett said to Cutter. “Five percent! Idiot!”

  Cutter unstrapped her and lifted her dead weight from the chair and lay her on the table.

  Green propped her feet up with a pillow. He checked her blood pressure.

  “Her pressure is still low, but stable.”

  “What now? Can you wake her up?”

  “I can give her a shot of adrenaline. It would wake her up but it would also offset the effects of the serum. Then we’d have to start all over. A second injection so quickly might be fatal.”

  “If we wait for her to wake up, will she still be under the effects of the serum?”

  “We won’t know until she’s conscious. That may take a few hours.”

  “Dammit! All right. You’ll stay here with one of Cutter’s men. When she wakes up, let me know immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Come on,” he said to Cutter and stormed out of the room.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Once Locke and Grant touched down at McChord Air Force Base south of Seattle, it was a short drive to the Fort Lewis army base where the assault team was making its final preparations inside one of the barracks. A map of Orcas Island was tacked to the wall, and thirty hardened commandos were busy checking weapons and loading their packs with ammo. Most of them were in their early twenties. Locke and Grant were older than every one of them by a good five years.

  They introduced themselves to the team’s commander, Captain Michael Turner, a pale, lean 30-year-old with a brush of close-cropped red hair. Turner, whose neck tendons looked strained to the breaking point, eyed them warily, apparently checking to make sure they measured up to his team’s standards. He shook their hands, but he didn’t look pleased to see them.

  “Sorry to barge in on your mission, Captain,” Locke said, “but we have some tactical information that will be useful when we’re on site.”

  “If General
Locke says you need to be here, then you’re on the team,” Turner said like a soldier who knew he had no choice but to follow orders. “As long as we’re clear that I am in command.”

  “Absolutely. I’m sure you’ve seen our service records.”

  “Yes. I had the base quartermaster get some BDUs for you. Get changed, and we’ll do the mission briefing.” Turner looked at his watch. “I have 1743 hours. We’re wheels up at 1900.”

  Locke tossed the larger set of battle dress uniforms to Grant and put his own on. He hadn’t worn fatigues since he left the service five years before, but donning them put him right back into military mode.

  “Seems like old times,” Grant said. “Except I feel like an old man compared to these young whippersnappers.”

  “You need your walker for this mission?” Locke asked with a chuckle.

  “Just my cane. You have your hearing aid in?”

  Locke shook his head and spoke louder. “Can’t hear you without my hearing aid in. Got my reading glasses, though, in case I need to read the instructions on my pills.”

  Turner broke into their fun. “You two ready?” he said curtly.

  Locke finished tying his boot laces and stood. “Grant was born ready, but I’m a late bloomer.”

  Turner rolled his eyes. He obviously didn’t share their sense of humor.

  “Listen up,” he said, and the room grew still instantly. The soldiers eyes were riveted on Turner. These guys were all business.

  “The intel on this op is sketchy at best,” Turner continued. “ Our mission is to infiltrate this complex here, and secure the bioweapon inside before 2100 hours.” He pointed at a satellite photograph of the Hydronast compound on Orcas. The island was shaped like a drooping upside-down W, with three peninsulas pointing south. The compound was located on the east coast of the westernmost peninsula, bordered by a finger-shaped bay.

  “We considered coming in by boat to Massacre Bay.”

  Locke and Grant looked at each other when they heard the name. Not a bright omen.

  “But that angle is well-lit,” Turner continued, “and we would be exposed trying to breach the shore fencing. They have a dock, but it is heavily guarded. We estimate at least 30 guards on the premises. No knowledge about their disposition.”