“Ha ha,” she said. “I’m telling Erin.”
“You probably will,” he said with a chuckle. “Look, kid, the point I’m making is they don’t have to use a simple alphabetic cipher. They could use anything. Any agreed-upon text just like this one here. And the letters in the code they’re using don’t have to be limited to double-digit values. They could apply to page number, paragraph number, line number, word number, and finally letter number if they wanted to—which would give each single letter in the message a value of five digits. So . . . do you see how many possibilities exist just within that single string of code you keep going over? There could be as many as thirty-two letters in it or as few as sixteen—just from that one example.”
“But that would take time to translate, and you said they’re talking fast.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But if they’re only using a few pages of the text—which would be logical—they could easily have it memorized by now. So, while I do believe it’s a simple code in terms of numerical values, it could still be impossible for a person to crack without a computer program.”
“But not necessarily . . .”
“No, not necessarily, but the trouble is we have no way of knowing. So why waste thousands of hours trying to crack a code only to find out that it’s impossible? Especially when we already know that it probably is impossible.”
“But what if these people might be able to help us?”
“Honey, whoever they are, they are in no more of a position to help us than we are to help them. Believe me. And there’s a very good chance of them being hostile, so we couldn’t risk breaking radio silence before we at least knew what the hell they’ve been talking about all these months.”
Melissa had not been even slightly deterred by Ulrich’s discouraging opinion of her chances. In fact, she only grew that much more determined. She saw a definite pattern within the code, even if only in her mind’s eye. She just couldn’t quantify it yet, and she continued to be very frustrated with herself, knowing that with a little more mathematical skill she could crack the damn thing and maybe—just maybe—find them some help before they were forced to eat rat meat in order stay alive . . . or worse, starve.
Forrest stepped around the open blast door and crouched beside her, petting Laddie, who came instantly awake. “I’d feel better if you two were in the common area with the others. The kids are asleep now.”
“I can’t concentrate with everyone around,” she said, her eyes fixed on the screen. “I’m close, Dad. I can feel it.”
Melissa had taken to calling him Dad a bit more often now, and it pulled at his heart every time. Veronica had remarked in private that she thought Melissa might have used the moniker to manipulate him in certain instances, which spawned their first genuine argument. She had only meant to imply that all girls manipulated their fathers to a certain degree, but Forrest accused her of being jealous.
“How dare you accuse me of being jealous of a sixteen-year-old girl!”
“She’s never made a single unreasonable request, Veronica. There isn’t even anything down here unreasonable to ask for, for Christ’s sake.”
“Never mind,” she had said. “You’re obviously too sensitive where Melissa’s concerned. I won’t bring her up again.”
After that they hadn’t spoken for an entire day.
“I’d like you to move into the common area anyway,” he said to Melissa now. “This tunnel’s supposed to be sealed in case there’s an emergency.”
“Can’t I—”
“What did I say?” he said, speaking crossly with her for the first time.
She looked up from her work, a hurt expression in her eyes, and closed the computer, gathering her papers together. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. Laddie got up with her and stretched.
Forrest sealed the door and they moved into the common area, allowing Laddie to trot deftly ahead of them through the sleeping children. On his way to Melissa’s bedroll near the wall, the dog stopped to sniff a couple of the kids, then curled up on his own bed made from folded blankets. Melissa put the computer into its box, unzipped her bag, and sat down to untie her shoes.
“You don’t have to go to bed,” he said quietly.
“I’m tired,” she said, without looking up at him, pulling the flap of the bag over her legs. “Good night.”
“Good night,” he said, and turned to walk away.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for making you mad.”
“You didn’t make me mad. I love you.”
“Love you too,” she said, and turned over to go to sleep.
Laddie got back up and followed Forrest into in the cafeteria, where Veronica was sitting up with Erin and the infant, whom thus far didn’t seem to have a name. Erin had just brought the babe from her feeding in Medical, and now the child was sound asleep, swaddled in Erin’s arms. Laddie sniffed at the infant and sat wagging his tail.
“No, she’s not yours yet,” Erin said with a smile. “You’ll have to wait a couple of years.”
There was no one sleeping in the cafeteria because the complex was on a war footing. All civilians were to remain in one of the two conjoined common areas at all times except for while preparing food in the kitchen to be served in the common areas.
“So, E, are you an official mom now or what?” Forrest asked, taking a seat beside Veronica.
“Shannon says so.”
“You don’t seem exactly thrilled.”
“Oh, I am,” she said. “It just doesn’t feel real yet, you know? With Shannon nursing her every couple of hours and those maniacs trying to get in. I feel more like a nanny, I guess.”
“Give her to Karen, then,” he said. “I know she’d love to have her.”
“Over my cold dead body, Jack Forrest.”
He laughed. “You sure sound like a mother to me.”
“You never pass up the chance to get a rise out of me, do you?”
“Nope.” He gave a Veronica a kiss. “How’s my girl?”
“Worried,” Veronica said.
“Don’t be. That’s my job.”
“Yet you never do.”
“That’s because it’s much more productive to act.”
“Well, Wayne’s worried,” Erin said. “He says not, but I know him. He’s as worried as I’ve ever seen him, in fact.”
“He’s just a pussy.”
Veronica slapped him on the arm.
“He’s called Wayne lots worse, V. Believe me. And vice versa. You’d think they hated each other the way they talk to one another. It’s disgusting.”
“I do hate him,” Forrest said, pretending to shake a cigarette from his pack, watching for Erin’s reaction.
“You even try smoking around this baby . . .”
He tucked the cigarettes back into his trouser pocket and gave Veronica a wink.
“What’s going on in the cargo bay?” Erin asked. “Wayne won’t tell me.”
“We’re just making sure nobody cuts through the lift elevator.”
“No, before all this,” Veronica said. “All five of you have been spending more time in there than normal lately.”
“Don’t think we haven’t noticed, Jack.”
“I can describe it in two words,” he said with a smile. “ ‘Top Secret.’ ”
Erin rolled her eyes. “At least Wayne has guts enough to say it’s no
ne of our business.”
When Erin left, Forrest said quietly, “You were right about Melissa.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple weeks ago when you said she manipulates me once in a while.”
“Oh, well . . .”
“It’s not really a big deal, though.”
She put her arm around him and kissed his neck. “I never tried to imply that it was. She’s a teenage girl. Every woman down here was like that at her age.”
“Well, I’d rather think of her as completely innocent.”
She laughed and kissed him again. “You and every man who’s ever had a daughter.”
Fifty-Four
“Major, you’d better come see this!” Sergeant Jeffries said, shaking Moriarty awake.
Moriarty let go of the woman he was using for warmth and rolled over onto his back. “What’s happened, Sergeant?”
“The men have found something I think you should see right away, sir. Something in the snow.”
Moriarty swung his feet over the edge of the cot and put them on the floor. He slapped the woman’s backside and told her to get up and put on his boots for him. After she tied his laces he stood up, cuffed her hands behind her back, and told her to go lay down. A few minutes later he was tromping off after Jeffries through the deep snow with his hands in his coat pockets. On the far side of the compound a dozen men stood in a circle with flashlights, shining them on the snow.
“What are they looking at?” Moriarty asked.
“It’s weird, sir. You need to see it for yourself.”
Moriarty marched up and stood looking at the snow. At first he didn’t see what they were talking about. He was looking for a specific item, like a frozen arm sticking out of the snow, but after a moment he saw what they had found . . . a slight depression in the snow shaped like a nearly perfect rectangle, about the length and width of an Army six-by-six truck.
“I’ll be goddamned,” he said. “You men get some shovels and be ready to dig, but nobody is to step into that area until ordered to do so. Sergeant Jeffries, get the complex blueprints and a compass and meet me in the house! We may not need that goddamn bulldozer after all.”
A short time later Moriarty and his staff were gathered around the kitchen table by the light of six army lanterns. “Okay,” he said, using the compass to orient the blueprints in the way one would orient a map. “You will notice, gentlemen, there is nothing in these plans to indicate anything located beneath the depression in the snow. Which is because whatever is located there was not added to this installation until after it was commissioned. Does anyone care to take a guess at what it might be?”
“A vent?” Jefferies suggested.
“Even better,” Moriarty replied. “It’s a hydraulic lift elevator, and below that lift elevator is a cargo bay. A cargo bay that is very likely full of supply, supply that will be ours the very moment we blast our way through the left deck. But what is even better, gentlemen, is that we will once again have unfettered access to a blast door. Now, this blast door will likely be larger and slightly thicker than the one we have already dealt with, but we will still be able to blast our way through it. Isn’t that right, Corporal Edelstein?”
“Yes, sir!”
“But why is there a depression in the snow?” one of the other men asked.
“Heat,” Moriarty said. “There’s obviously just enough heat below the deck to cause a slight melt close to the ground, which has dropped the surface level of the snow.
“Now, advise the men to dig slowly and very, very carefully. I’m guessing these cagey bastards have covered the deck with dirt, so when they reach dirt, the men are to put the shovels aside and dig with their hands. And no one—I repeat—no one is to step on that deck in anything other than stocking feet. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Very good, gentlemen. Let’s move with a purpose.”
The room cleared and Moriarty stood looking out the kitchen window with Jeffries at his side. He checked his watch. “Still two hours before first light,” he muttered. “We need to do this right, Sergeant. Get some men moving around down in the basement with flashlights. Make it look like they’re up to something. It doesn’t matter what. Just so they have the attention of those bastards below. Keep it mysterious.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeffries said. “What about the ’dozer, sir?”
“We’ll talk with Edelstein about that. Six feet of concrete is a lot to blast through. And assaulting through an opening like that won’t be easy.”
“What if we wait until the ’dozer gets here, and we let them see us digging on the far side of the compound,” Jeffries suggested, “to make it look like we’re digging down to the access tunnel for the number two silo? Wouldn’t that draw their attention even farther away from the cargo bay? And with the camera angle being what it is, they won’t be able to see us working on the lift elevator.”
“But they will wonder why we’re letting them watch.”
“We can show them a note. Tell them to surrender or else. They’ll think we’re letting them see in order to prove we can back up our threat.”
“So the question becomes when to hit them,” Moriarty said.
“I think a couple of hours after first light, sir. Give them time to see us and concentrate their defenses on the far side.”
“All right. We’ll start digging as soon as the ’dozer gets here, and exactly two hours later we’ll blow a hole in the lift deck. If there are no defenses in the bay, we’ll send two men down by rope to see if there is power to the lift. In the event the bay is defended, we’ll rain grenades down on them until there’s nothing left but ground chuck.”
Fifty-Five
Forrest was sitting on the john when the alarms began to sound once again. “Jesus Christ!” he said, pulling a length of paper from the roll and hurriedly wiping his ass. “Every fucking time!”
“Forrest to the LC immediately!” Kane’s voice called over the P.A. “Forrest to the LC!”
Forrest sprinted down the hall into Launch Control. “What the fuck is it now?”
“Look!” Kane said, pointing at the monitor. On the screen, a large a D-8 Cat track hoe was digging into the earth on the far side of the compound. Given the depth of the hole, the Cat hadn’t made more than a few passes.
Ulrich arrived and took one look at the monitor. “Broken Arrow, Jack!”
Forrest was already on his way to the fuse box. He unlocked it quickly and threw one of two red switches.
Ulrich watched the monitor, hoping to see the ground erupt in a series of heavy explosions. “Nothing!” he shouted, kicking the waste can across the room. “They’ve already torn up the fucking grid! Goddamnit, Jack, I told you!”
Michael stood in the doorway in his pajamas looking very confused. “What was supposed to happen?”
“We mined the upper compound with TNT,” Kane answered. “Everything you’re seeing on the monitor right now should have been blown to shit when Jack threw that switch, but that ’dozer has torn up the grid.”
“Jack, blow the goddamn house!” Ulrich said, seeing that Forrest was relocking the fuse box. “Once they see the ground was mined they’ll check the house sure as shit.”
“Not necessarily,” Forrest said, moving back to the monitor. “And if we blow the house, we lose this camera feed.” He shook a smoke from the pack and fired it up, drawing deeply as he stood thinking.
“At least we’d kill these assholes here,” Kane said, bringing up the tunnel feed to point out the flashlights moving around in the darkness deep within the basement. “It’s tough to tell what they’re doing, but they have to be working on some sort of a countermeasure for the flamethrowers.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Ulrich said. “What’s it going to be, Jack? Use it or lose it, goddamn
it.”
“We need to see what they’re doing up there, Wayne. The house stays intact.”
If he was completely honest about it, Ulrich was glad this particular call wasn’t up to him; he was truly at a loss to judge the best move under the present circumstances.
“For now,” Forrest said, “we form a human chain all the way to silo number two. We have to transfer every bit of food out of there before we’re cut off from it. They’re digging down to the access tunnel to blow their way in. Once the silo is empty, we’ll use the remainder of the TNT to booby-trap it and the tunnel. Wayne, you’re in charge of the relocation. Kane and I will remain here in the LC. Who’s on duty in the cargo bay?”
“Sullivan and Marty.”
“Get them out and seal it. There’s still a shit-ton of supply left in number two silo, and we’ll need every swinging dick to move it.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ulrich said.
Forrest picked up the P.A. “Attention everybody. Our friends upstairs are using a bulldozer to dig down to the number two access tunnel. So we need all of you to pitch in and help move our supplies out of number two silo and into the number one blast tunnel. Everyone stay calm and listen to Wayne. We’re going to be okay.”
He set the mike down and stood smoking as he watched the Cat plowing through the dirt.
“That last part might be the first lie you’ve told them,” Kane said.
“I know it.”
“Those assholes don’t have nothin’ to do but excavate,” Kane went on. “Pretty soon we’ll be robbing Peter to pay Paul down here, and we only got four days of air to do that. Even less with everybody workin’ their asses off shufflin’ shit around.”
“I know.”
“We’re gonna have to go up there and give those motherfuckers somethin’ else to—”
“I know it, Marcus, goddamnit!” Forrest stood watching the machine make yet another pass, his mind working to process the entirety of the situation.
“Jack, let me put together an assault team . . . me, Sullivan, and Vasquez. We’ll take out those assholes in the basement and clear the house in nothing flat.”
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