“That’s the key question,” Moriarty said. “Because if we can’t disable those flame throwers we’re never getting in.” He smashed his fist against the table. “Bastards think they’re pretty smart. Probably down there laughing their asses off.”
“Cameras,” Edelstein said suddenly. “Maybe they’re watching us.”
The obviousness of the idea hit Moriarty like a truck. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed. “I never even considered that possibility. My brain must be addled.”
“It’s the lack of nutrition,” Edelstein said. “It’s affecting us all, Major.”
“Get out there and tell the men to tear that house apart. If they do find cameras, I don’t want them destroyed. I want them covered with tape. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
When Edelstein was gone, Moriarty walked to the back of the trailer, squatting to look the women over, his face pitiless and his eyes flat like those of a reptile. “Now which one of you ladies wants to improve my mood?”
Fifty-One
No one heard a sound within the complex when blast door number one was blown out of its casement, but there was a subtle trembling that quivered through the facility, making everyone within the civilian population aware that they had taken damage. Forrest immediately went on the air to announce that blast door number one had been breached but that the situation was in hand and not to worry. A short time later they barbecued the demolitions team and watched the monitor as the blast blew the tunnel clean. They waited patiently for the enemy to come back down, and when they were certain no more than one man was reentering the tunnel, they barbecued him as well.
“They won’t likely be back for a while.” Forrest fired up a smoke.
“We should sneak into the house now,” Vasquez said. “Take a few of them out and retreat back inside.”
“There’s no need to expose ourselves. We still hold every advantage.”
Kane stepped into the room and offered Forrest a cup of coffee. “Baby’s comin’ pretty soon,” he told Ulrich. “Erin asked me to send you in.”
“Yeah, that’s just what Shannon wants,” Ulrich said. “Me in there staring at her snatch. Message received but I’ll take a pass. Thanks.”
“What’s up with the ventilators?” Forrest asked, sipping his coffee.
“We’re fine so far,” Kane said. “The nonreturn valves we installed worked just like they were supposed to, but we can’t draw fresh air until that damn fuel burns off. And they’ll probably just pour more down.”
“Which means we’ve got as much air as we’re going to get until this is over,” Forrest muttered. He turned to the dozens of tomato plants resting on the shelves against the wall. “Breathe, you little bastards.”
Michael chuckled sardonically. “Has anyone got any idea how many plants it would take to—”
“Three hundred plants per person,” Ulrich said. “Roughly. And we’ve got about fifty total.”
“So how long do we have before we start to suffocate down here?”
“It’s tough to quantify,” Ulrich said. “But for the sake of argument, let’s say about four days.”
“Hey, guys,” Vasquez said, sitting up in his chair to point at one of the monitors. “I think maybe they’re looking for our cameras.”
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Ulrich said.
“Shit, they’ve got the one in the living room.”
The view on the monitor seemed to swing wildly about the living room as the airman pulled the fiber-optic wire from the smoke detector.
“The only camera that matters now is the one in the tunnel,” Forrest said. “And they need Superman to get at that one.”
“I don’t know,” Ulrich said, watching the enemy fan out through the house. “I don’t like the idea not being able to see what they’re up to.”
“There goes the kitchen cam,” Vasquez said. “Front porch too.”
“The aboveground cameras were always a bonus,” Forrest said.
“There go the bedroom cams.”
“Besides, we’ve still got the camera on the antenna array if we get into a pinch.”
“Which is a onetime deal,” Ulrich said. “They’ll snuff that motherfucker the second we extend it.”
Forrest leaned forward to use the P.A., calling Danzig into Launch Control.
“Linus,” he said upon Danzig’s arrival. “It looks like we’re going to need someone on guard in the cargo bay from now on. We’re about to go blind down here. Work out a schedule with Sullivan and Marty, will you? Put those two on the same shift. Kane, you take a shift too. I don’t think any of us are going to be getting any sleep for a while.”
“Okay, honey, you’re doing fine,” West said, his hands resting on Emory’s knees. “I can see the baby’s head now. You’re crowning beautifully.”
“Shit!” Emory gasped, gripping the edges of the mattress. “It feels like I’m shitting a bowling ball!”
Erin smiled, wiping the sweat from Emory’s forehead with a damp cloth. “You’re doing great.”
Marty stood in the doorway watching.
“Get in here and hold my hand, Marty. What the fuck, I’m dying in here!”
Marty crossed to the bed and took her hand.
“Okay,” West said. “With this next contraction I need you to push for me, Shannon.”
The contraction came and Emory pushed as hard as she could, screaming at the top of her voice.
“Good girl!” West said. “Almost there. One more time, honey.”
Emory waited and pushed one last time, feeling the baby squirt free of her body and groaning aloud.
“It’s a girl!” Erin said, beginning to cry. “It’s a girl, Shannon!”
“Thank God that’s fucking over!” Emory said, her voice trembling.
“Almost,” West said with chuckle, handing the baby to Dr. Wilmington so he could tie off and cut the umbilical. The infant began to cry a few seconds later, and after a short while the afterbirth was delivered, allowing West to clean Emory up. Dr. Wilmington cleaned the baby girl and swaddled her in a green cotton Army towel, carrying her over to rest her on Emory’s chest. But Emory closed her eyes and turned her head as if some foul-smelling food had been placed before her.
“Marty, who does she look like?”
“You,” he said softly, looking adoringly at the infant. “She looks like you.”
Emory turned her head slowly and looked at her daughter, at last lifting her arms to touch her. “Hey, you little shithead.”
Erin’s face was covered with tears.
“Pick her up,” Emory told her. “She’s yours now.”
“Shannon, are you sure you don’t want her?” Erin said, suddenly sad for the infant. “She’s your daughter, honey. Your flesh and blood.”
“I like her,” Shannon said, holding her gently. “She’s cool. But she’s yours. I don’t want to be a mother. Tell her, Marty.”
“She’s given this a lot of thought,” Marty said quietly. “It’s for the best, Erin.”
“You’ll need to nurse her for as long as possible,” West said. “In this environment, she’ll need every advantage she can get.”
Emory sat against the pillow with the baby in her arms, looking dolefully at him.
“I’m serious, Shannon. It’s really very important. We don’t have any baby formula down here, and powdered milk isn’t going to do at all. Not to mention she needs the immunities only you can give her.”
“All right,” Emory said reluctantly. “You can go now, Marty. I don’t need you staring at my tits.” She bared one of her breasts, and West helped her cradle the baby and position the nipple in her mouth. The infant took to the nipple at once and began to suckle like a hungry puppy.
“That’s a small mercy,” West said with a glance at Erin. “They don’t always take to it thi
s fast.”
“Hey, that feels pretty good,” Emory said with a grin. “It’s been a while. Maybe this won’t be so bad.”
Erin couldn’t help laughing. “Shannon, really.”
“Well that’s it,” Ulrich said, rising from his chair as the last outside camera was discovered on the roof of the house and wrapped around with tape. “They’ve blinded us.”
“I wonder why they taped them off instead of destroying them,” Michael said.
“This way they can communicate with us later on,” Forrest said, drinking from another cup of coffee. “Threaten us with imminent destruction.” He looked at his watch. “Be dark soon. We can raise the antenna just before sunup, maybe get a quick look at first light and then lower it again before they spot it. It’s far enough away, they may not notice.”
“I’ve got an idea I like better,” Kane said.
“Which is?”
“Call Broken Arrow about 0400 then go up and finish the job by hand. We’re bound to catch a lot of ’em asleep in the house.”
“That’s what Broken Arrow is?” Michael said. “Engaging them hand-to-hand?”
“Partly,” Forrest said. “But I don’t like it yet. Those trailers are out of range. We can’t risk a protracted firefight.”
“But how soon before we’re in a use-it-or-lose-it situation?” Ulrich said. “We won’t know where they’re snooping around up there now. What if they find the lift?”
“I’m not too worried,” Forrest said. “Tactically speaking, Moriarty’s already fucked up.” He set the coffee cup down and shook another cigarette loose. “He could have played this like they didn’t know about the cameras. They could have pretended to prepare for something he didn’t really intend to do . . . make us prepare for something that was never going to happen. But this idiot’s no tactician. He’s a fucking supply officer, and he doesn’t scare me. So no Broken Arrow except as a last resort . . . unless you’d like to call for another vote there, Wayne.”
“Jack,” Ulrich said, pausing before stepping into the hall. “Go fuck yourself.”
Fifty-Two
“What if we flood the basement?” suggested a member of Moriarty’s staff. “Flood the tunnel and set the charges underwater.”
Moriarty sat looking at the man, glancing at Edelstein before sitting forward in his chair. “That’s a pretty good idea, Howard—except for the fact we’ve got no water and no goddamn scuba gear.” He pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of here, you moron!”
Howard stood from his chair, saluted and left the trailer.
Moriarty looked at the other four. “The next one of you who comes up with an idea like that, just shoot yourself and save me the trouble. Flood the goddamn basement!”
One of the cooks came in later and set a mess tray of blackish meat on the table. “I put a lot of cayenne on it this time. I think it’s better.”
Moriarty picked up a piece of the meat and took a bite. “A little spicy but not bad. Who is this?”
“It’s Lieutenant Ford, sir.”
“Poor fucker,” Moriarty said, licking his fingers. “He was a good man.”
“Have you come up with a way of getting into the complex?” the cook asked.
“No.”
“Too bad we don’t have any way of getting that Cat out here,” the cook said, turning for the door.
“What Cat?” Moriarty said.
“There was a D-8 along the highway on the way here. We could dig right down to the main complex with it. Blow our way in.”
Moriarty looked at Edelstein. “Would that work?”
“The concrete shell is six feet thick,” Edelstein said. “It would take a while, but with the explosives we have and a couple of jackhammers . . . yeah, I think it would work. It’s worth a try.”
“That’s it, then,” Moriarty said, getting to his feet. “Take a company of men and go get that goddamn bulldozer!”
Fifty-Three
It was late and Melissa sat in the hall with Laddie asleep beside her on the deck, her laptop against her knees as she stared at a simple cipher on the computer screen.
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
Y
1-1 (Line 1, first letter) = A
4-6 (Line 4, sixth letter) = Y
etc.
The first numeral of a set denoted which line to reference, and the second numeral denoted which specific letter within that line to reference. This was the rudimentary alphabetic cipher Ulrich had shown her months earlier when she first expressed an interest in trying to decipher the code they were now listening in on as many as four nights a week. She had since tried dozens of variations on it, most recently:
A
B
C
D
E F
G H
I J
K L
M N O
P Q R
S T U
V W Y
She always attempted to match them against the same string of code that one of the telegraphers signed on with at the beginning of each transmission:
924913024024812824012924811636025913013011404925036712036824824
And always came up with nothing but gibberish.
One of her notable problems—among many others—was the numeral 9. No matter how she arranged the letters, she couldn’t come up with a workable alphabetical value for the numeral 9. She asked Ulrich about it, but he hadn’t been very helpful. He told her the 9s could have any one of a million different values—or even be complete gibberish to throw off a cryptologist.
She was frustrated with Ulrich, firmly believing that if he would just help her, they could crack the code.
“Okay, listen,” he said to her late one night in Launch Control when she had resumed work on the code at the console. “Do you know the Lord’s Prayer? ‘Yea, though I walk’ . . . and all that.”
“That’s not the Lord’s Prayer,” she said, laughing. “That’s the Twenty-third Psalm. The Lord’s Prayer is ‘Our Father, which art in Heaven . . . ’ ”
“Whatever. Go get a Bible and copy it down, a line at a time.”
“Which one? The Lord’s Prayer or the Twenty-third Psalm?”
He looked at her and narrowed his eyes, not having the patience with her that Forrest had. “ ‘Yea, though I walk . . .’ ”
“Jeez!” she said with another laugh. “You’d better learn to have some patience if you’re gonna be a dad, Wayne.”
“Go get the Bible, kid.”
“I don’t need it,” she said, lifting her pencil.
“
And always number the lines,” he told her. “That will make it easier for you to reference them as you’re deciphering.”
“Got it.” She wrote out the Psalm from memory.
1. The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want.
2. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of The Lord forever.
“Okay, so now what?” she said, showing him the paper.
Ulrich took the paper and wrote a quick string of code at the bottom of the page:
1-10 / 2-2 / 3-16 / 1-9 / 6-1 / 6-1 / 4-3 __ 1-9 / 6-1 __ 4-3 __ 5-5 / 4-3 / 1-9 / 6-11
“Now decipher that,” he said. “And keep in mind, the blank spaces are arbitrary. They hold no value of their own. I could just as easily have written it without the spaces, but I’m making it ridiculously easy for you.”
It was immediately apparent to Melissa that he had used the line number for the first value of each letter and then just counted spaces for the second value, coming up with:
M/E/L/I/S/S/A_I/S_A_P/A/I/N.
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