Book Read Free

Area 7 ss-2

Page 18

by Matthew Reilly


  Love Machine roared.

  A separate volley hit both of his front tires and they

  punctured loudly, and suddenly he was skidding out of control,

  sliding precariously close to the edge of the elevator

  shaft and the now ten-foot drop to the slowly descending

  platform.

  Somehow, he didn't fall into the shaft. Instead, he

  180 Matthew Reilly

  bounced across the northeastern corner of the great square

  hole, shooting past the 7th Squadron men who had hammered

  him with gunfire, and slammed at tremendous speed

  into the remains of Nighthawk Two, which still sat near the

  northern wall of the hangar--attached to its own towing vehicle,

  its cockpit blasted open--right where Book II had left

  it ninety minutes earlier.

  ELVIS SAW THE CRASH FROM HIS POSITION INSIDE MARINE ONE, saw Love Machine's cockroach plough into Nighthawk Two

  and lurch to a thunderous halt, the bricklike towing vehicle

  half-buried in the helicopter's crumpled side.

  And then he saw the three 7th Squadron men rushing

  toward the crashed cockroach.

  "Oh, no ..." he breathed.

  meanwhile, schofield, book II, juliet and the president-- still dressed in their black 7th Squadron uniforms--were

  fighting their own unique kind of battle.

  Since it was now descending into the square-shaped

  shaft, the aircraft elevator platform had effectively become a

  great walled pit, the four walls of the shaft bounding it on

  every side. And with the remains of the AWACS plane still

  strewn about the platform, it was also now a twisted steel

  maze.

  Seven members of Bravo Unit moved among the pieces

  of the plane, searching for them, hunting them.

  Schofield guided his people along the eastern edge of

  the platform, leading the way, hurdling broken pieces of

  plane, eyes watchful for the enemy, but searching the floor

  for something else, something he had planted--

  There.

  The broken section of wing was right where he had left

  it.

  Schofield hurried over to it. It was resting on the ground

  at the corner of the moving elevator platform, up against the

  northern and eastern walls. With Book II's help, he lifted the

  area 7 181

  portion of wing off the elevator's floor, revealing a wide

  square hole in the platform.

  The hole was about ten feet square. It was that part of the

  platform that usually housed the detachable mini-elevator.

  Right now, the detachable section of the elevator platform

  lay about fifteen feet below them, farther down the

  shaft--nestled in the corner, unmoving, waiting for them.

  By placing the broken section of wing over the top of it

  earlier, Schofield had ensured that the 7th Squadron didn't

  know this exit existed.

  It was their escape route.

  "love machine! You still alive?" elvis yelled into his

  mike from the cockpit of Marine One.

  "Aw, fuck ..." came the pained reply.

  "Can you move?"

  "Get out of here, man. I'm gone. I'm hit and my ankle

  was busted in the crash--"

  "We don't leave anyone behind," another voice said

  firmly over the same frequency.

  It was Schofield's voice.

  "Elvis. You and Fox get clear. I'm closer--I'll take care

  of Love Machine. Love Machine, sit tight. I'm coming for

  you."

  ON THE DOWNWARD-MOVING ELEVATOR PLATFORM, SCHOFIELD

  spun and looked upwards.

  "What are you doing?" Book II asked.

  "I'm going to get Love Machine," he said, eyeing the

  destroyed fuselage of the AWACS plane above him. It was

  still tilted sharply forward--nose down, ass up. The elevated

  rear section of the plane was still above the rim of the hangar

  floor. But not for long. Soon the downward movement of the

  platform would bring it below the rim.

  "Take the President down," he said to Book II and

  Juliet.

  "What are you going to do?" Juliet said.

  182

  Matthew Reilly

  "I'm going to get my man," Schofield said. "I'll meet

  you downstairs."

  With that he took off into the twisted metal forest

  around them.

  Book II and Juliet could only watch him go. And then

  they set about their own task of leaping down to the detachable

  mini-elevator in the shaft below them.

  SCHOFIELD RAN.

  Up the steeply sloping left-hand wing of the destroyed

  AWACS plane.

  He reached the top of the wing, then used some dents in

  the side of the fuselage to climb up onto the battered plane's

  roof. It was then that he was spotted by two of the Bravo

  Unit men on the platform below him.

  Their P-90 assault rifles erupted.

  But Schofield never stopped moving. He just kept running,

  dancing up the slanted roof of the plane, heading

  aft--toward the point where the rear section of the

  downward-moving plane was about to swing past the rim

  of the shaft.

  He hit the rear edge of the plane's roof just as it

  swooped past the rim and he jumped--diving forward, leaping

  full-stretch--and landed with a thud, face-first, out of

  the line of fire, on the main hangar's shiny concrete floor,

  twenty feet away from Love Machine's crashed cockroach.

  He looked up just in time to see the three 7th Squadron

  commandos arrive at the cockroach's door.

  love machine sighed as he saw the muzzle of a P-90 Assault

  rifle appear a few inches in front of his face.

  The features of the 7th Squadron commando holding

  the gun were obscured by the soldier's half-faced gas mask,

  but the man's eyes weren't covered. They glinted with satisfaction.

  Love Machine closed his eyes, waited for the end.

  Blam!

  No end.

  area 7 183

  Confused, he opened his eyes again--to see his executioner,

  now with only half a head, sway unsteadily on his

  feet, and then fall in a kind of stunned slow motion to the

  ground.

  The other two commandos spun instantly, only to be cut

  down by a ferocious volley of semiautomatic pistol fire.

  They were hurled out of view and then to Love Machine's

  complete surprise, he saw, standing in their place--The Scarecrow.

  Dressed in his black 7th Squadron clothing.

  "Come on," Schofield said. "Let's get you out of here."

  BOOK II LANDED ON THE NONSKID DECK OF THE MINI-ELEVATOR,

  next to Juliet and the President, eight feet below the

  downward-moving main platform.

  It was dark down here, in the shadow of the principal

  platform.

  As soon as they were all on the detachable deck, Juliet

  hit a button on a small console built into its floor.

  The detachable deck began to glide quickly down the

  side of the shaft, traveling on its own set of wall-mounted

  rails, moving faster than the gigantic main platform above it.

  Pulling away.

  SCHOFIELD BEGAN TO HAUL LOVE MACHINE OUT OF THE Cockroach.

  As he did so, he saw several weapons strewn about the

 
exploded-open cockpit of Nighthawk Two--a couple of

  MP-10's, some grenades, a chunky .44 caliber "Desert Eagle"

  semiautomatic pistol, and, most pleasing of all for

  Schofield, two gunlike weapons, still in their black-leather

  back holsters, that must have spilled out of Nighthawk

  Two's weapons cabinet when it had been blown apart earlier.

  They looked like high-tech Tommy guns, each possessed

  of a short stubby barrel and two handgrips. Sticking

  out of each gun's barrel, however, was a chrome grappling

  hook with a bulbous magnetic head.

  It was the famous Armalite MH-12 Maghook, a grappling

  hook which also contained a high-powered magnet for

  adhesion to sheer metallic surfaces.

  "Oh, yes ..." Schofield said, grabbing the two Maghooks

  area 7 185

  and handing one of them to Love Machine. He also grabbed

  an MP-10, and the big Desert Eagle pistol, which he shoved

  into his belt--

  Ping!

  At that moment, the doors to the nearby personnel elevator

  abruptly opened--

  --revealing ten fully armed 7th Squadron men!

  Python Willis and the men of Charlie Unit.

  Python's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he

  saw Schofield standing so close and dressed in 7th Squadron

  attire.

  His men raised their P-90's instantly.

  "Oh, shit!" Schofield said as he shoved Love Machine

  back into the cockroach's driver's compartment and clambered

  in there with him as a volley of bullets slammed into

  the cockroach's frame.

  Schofield jammed the stick into reverse--hoped to God

  it would still go--and planted the gas pedal to the floor.

  The cockroach squealed off the mark, its rear tires

  smoking, shooting backwards out of the wreck of Nighthawk

  Two, impact sparks chasing it across the floor.

  The cockroach rushed across the hangar floor in reverse,

  narrowly missing the edge of the elevator shaft as it

  rocketed toward the now-abandoned barricade on the eastern

  side of the shaft.

  Schofield turned in his seat as he drove--saw the barricade

  rushing toward him a second too late.

  He hit the brakes and the big three-ton towing vehicle

  did a wild 180-degree spin. The front end of the cockroach

  came swinging around like a baseball bat and took out the

  barricade with one devastating swipe, sending crates and

  Samsonite containers flying everywhere.

  The cockroach jolted to a halt.

  In its driver's compartment, Schofield lurched forward.

  When he looked up to see where he was, he was surprised to

  see that, right next to his door, not three feet away, stood the

  chair upon which sat the President's briefcase--the Football.

  Holy shit.

  186

  Matthew Reilly

  The briefcase's handgrip was still tethered to the floor

  by the length of superstrong titanium cord, but now, since the

  President had successfully reset its ninety-minute timer, it

  had been abandoned by the 7th Squadron men, rightfully assuming

  that the President's sole objective was now to get out.

  So now the Football just sat there, alone, completely

  unguarded.

  Schofield saw the opportunity, and took it.

  He leapt out of the driver's compartment and slid to the

  floor beside the Football.

  The men of Charlie Unit were charging across the

  hangar, guns blazing, pummeling the exposed rump of the

  cockroach with a million rounds of lead.

  Sheltered by the big towing vehicle, Schofield brought

  one of the tiny 7th Squadron Lock-Blasters out of his

  pocket, attached it to the tie-down stud in the floor that held

  the Football to the ground, hit the activate button, and dived

  away.

  One, one-thousand ...

  Two, one-thousand ...

  Three--

  The blast was short and sharp.

  With a loud crack! the tie-down stud broke free from

  the floor, and suddenly the Football--with the length of titanium

  cord still attached to it--was free.

  Schofield scooped it up and dived back into the cab of

  the cockroach, just as the first 7th Squadron men arrived.

  Two of them leapt up onto the back of the cockroach,

  landing on it at the exact same moment that Schofield

  floored the accelerator and the cockroach took off, the sudden

  lurch of motion sending one of the commandos falling

  ass-over-head off the back of the towing vehicle.

  The second man had better reflexes. He discarded his

  P-90, giving himself an extra hand, and somehow managed

  to hang on to the roof of the speeding vehicle.

  Schofield swung the cockroach around the southern

  side of the enormous elevator shaft--tires squealing, engine

  roaring, and now with an extra passenger on its back.

  area 7

  He saw Marine One up ahead, standing on the western

  side of the shaft, its rotor blades still turning.

  That was where he wanted to go. Pull alongside Marine

  One, race inside it and then leap down into its floor hatch

  and escape into the ventilation shaft below it.

  But his hopes were dashed when he saw the three black

  clad men from Alpha Unit appear from the other side of the

  Presidential helicopter, guns up.

  Ready for him.

  But for some reason, they didn't fire.

  Why weren't they?

  With shocking suddenness, the small rear window of

  the driver's compartment behind Schofield's head exploded

  all around him, showering Schofield and Love Machine

  with glass, and a pair of black-gloved hands appeared on either

  side of Schofield's head, one of them brandishing a

  knife!

  It was the 7th Squadron commando on the back of the

  cockroach. With his head held above the driver's compartment,

  he was reaching in with his hands to kill Schofield.

  On a reflex, Schofield grabbed the man's knife hand,

  while the assassin's other hand clutched madly at his face.

  They were still rushing toward Marine One, the cockroach--its two front tires punctured, its driver fighting for

  his life--caroming wildly across the shiny hangar floor.

  Grappling with the commando behind him, Schofield

  saw Marine One ahead of them, saw its rapidly spinning

  vertical tail rotor, a blurring circle of motion about six feet

  off the ground, a few inches higher than the roof of the

  cockroach ...

  Schofield didn't miss a beat.

  He threw the fast-moving cockroach into a skid, fishtailing

  the big vehicle sideways--sliding it underneath the

  tail rotor of Marine One, so that the buzz saw-like blades of

  the vertical rotor passed low over the cockroach's roof.

  Then he heard the commando behind him scream in terror

  before--abruptly--the yell was cut short as the tail rotor

  sheared the commando's head clean off his body and a

  188

  Matthew Reilly

  shocking waterfall of blood gushed down from the roof of

  the driver's compartment.

  The three men of Alpha Unit standing near Marine One

  h
urled themselves clear of the sliding towing vehicle as it

  shot beneath the tail boom of the President's helicopter.

  The cockroach emerged on the other side of the chopper,

  skidding to a sideways halt, so that now the bullet

  battered towing vehicle was facing the great square hole that

  was the elevator shaft.

  Schofield saw the yawning shaft before him--with its

  wide hydraulic platform inside it, still making its ponderous

  descent; saw the AWACS plane's flying-saucer-like roto

  dome about ten feet below the floorline.

  He revved the engine.

  Love Machine saw what he was thinking.

  "You are out of your mind, Captain."

  "Whatever works," Schofield said. "Hang on."

  He gunned it.

  The cockroach shot forward, rear tires squealing,

  rushed toward the edge of the shaft.

  Speed is everything, Schofield thought as he drove. He

  needed enough forward velocity so that the cockroach

  would reach the ...

  The cockroach rushed toward the rim.

  Bullet sparks exploded all around it.

  Schofield drove hard.

  Then the cockroach hit the edge of the elevator shaft

  and launched itself out into the air ...

  THE COCKROACH SOARED—WHEELS SPINNING, NOSE HIGH.

  Then, as it fell, its forward bumper began to droop and

  it resumed the appearance of three tons of steel that was

  never intended to fly.

  By this time, the elevator platform had descended about

  thirty feet below floorline, but the body of the destroyed

  AWACS plane—and its intact rotodome—made the fall for

  the soaring cockroach only about ten feet.

  The cockroach landed—smash!—right on top of the

  AWACS plane's downward-slanted rotodome.

  The rotodome, titanium-based and very rigid, resisted

  the downward energy of the falling vehicle valiantly.

  Its support struts, however, did not.

  They buckled instantly, snapping like twigs, as did the

  body of the airplane underneath the rotodome.

  The AWACS's cylindrical fuselage just crumpled like

  an aluminum can under the weight of the falling towing vehicle,

  effectively cushioning the roach's fall.

  The rotodome was driven down into the fuselage, creating

  a ramplike effect which allowed Schofield's cockroach

 

‹ Prev