Eternal Night

by Richard Turner

  Snap!

  Mitchell dropped to one knee, brought his rifle to his shoulder, and looked up the path. His heart jackhammered in his chest. A couple of seconds later, a small, spotted deer walked out of the forest and onto the trail. It lifted its head and sniffed the air. The deer caught a whiff of Mitchell and dashed back into the safety of the undergrowth. Mitchell stood and shook his head. It seemed as if the very jungle was conspiring against him. He took a deep breath and carried on up the trail. Before long, he came across some massive stone blocks from the temple. Mitchell stopped and looked around to make sure he was alone before carrying on. The rest of the once-majestic temple came into sight. A pile of bricks littered the ground where a tall spire would have rested on the top of the building. Facedown in the dirt was a massive statue of Buddha. Thick, gnarled vines and trees covered the rest of the temple, making it hard to see where the building ended and the jungle began.

  As quietly as he could, Mitchell crept to the front of the temple and looked down on the road coming up from the refugee camp and going under the temple. The refugee camp was, as expected, dark and quiet. Apart from a couple of men standing next to a fire, there was no one to be seen. The dirt track had tire indentations in it, proving that something existed under the hill. Going in via the front door was out of the question. Mitchell looked around. There had to be another way inside. He stepped back into the forest, dropped to one knee, and listened. Just barely audible was a low, steady hum. Mitchell walked toward the noise and stopped at a piece of shattered rock. He grasped the rock and smiled. It wasn’t a rock at all; it was made of metal.

  “Got you,” said Mitchell, under his breath. He unzipped his tactical vest and laid it and his rifle on the ground. Next, he moved his hands over the fake rock, trying to find a latch or anything else that might allow him to push the cover aside. His fingers touched a hasp. With a flick of his wrist, the hasp opened, and the cover came off in his hand. Mitchell peered inside. It was a ventilation shaft. The opening was just wide enough for his body. Mitchell tied his rifle to his vest before tying his vest to his belt with a piece of cord. He lowered his vest into the shaft and climbed in after it. Mitchell jammed the soles of his boots against the side of the metal tunnel and forced his back against the wall. Next, he pulled off his gloves and placed his hands on the metal to help steady himself. He said a silent prayer, and began to climb down one foot at a time. It was slow and tedious work. One false move, and he’d fall to the bottom of the shaft, wherever that was.

  Dimov sat, sipping an Earl Gray tea, in the facility’s circular, state-of-the-art command center. Screens hung around the room, showing the entire refugee camp and the road leading to Site Alpha. Two technicians sat behind their computer monitors, keeping a close eye on the installation’s surveillance and monitoring equipment. Aside from some animals running through the camp, all was quiet, as it had been for days

  Dimov checked the time. In less than an hour, a helicopter carrying his superior would be arriving. He stood up and ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. It wouldn’t do to look slovenly when his boss landed. Dimov walked out of the room and made his way to his quarters. He removed his blue coverall uniform and started his shower. Dimov cursed when a thought crossed his mind. He hadn’t given the order to prepare a small dose of Achlys to demonstrate its lethality on the prisoners. He reached for his phone and called the testing facility.

  “Yes,” answered a man. It was Max Dinu, who sounded tired.

  “Doctor, I want enough Achlys to test on people from haplogroups R and K.”

  “What effect do you desire?”

  “A painful and slow death. The bloodier, the better.”

  “When do I get to see my daughter?”

  “Later today,” lied Dimov. “She’s coming in with a very special visitor. Now, please do as you’re told, or I can arrange for her to be part of the test subjects.”

  “No,” moaned Max. “I’ll do what you ask. Please keep my daughter safe.”

  “You do your job, and I’ll make sure Nova is well taken care of.” Dimov hung up the phone, knowing that she died when Spiridov Island went up in flames. He stepped into his shower and felt the water wash his worries away. Today’s demonstration was going to set him up for life. Money, power, women, would all be his for the taking in a matter of hours.

  Sweat poured like Niagara Falls from Mitchell’s face. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he had climbed down at least one hundred meters. The sound of his rifle hitting something told him he was nearing the bottom of the shaft. He looked between his legs and saw a grill. Mitchell hurried down the last few paces before collapsing on the grill. He took in deep breaths to fill his aching lungs and tired limbs. Mitchell rolled over and yanked off his NVGs. He set them down before turning back over to look down through the grill. All was dark. Mitchell dug out a small flashlight and shone it through the grill. The air shaft had come out above a darkened storage room. He gripped the end of his light in his mouth and started to remove the screws holding the grate in place with his multi-tool.

  As soon as the grill came free, Mitchell dropped down inside the room and hauled his vest and rifle with him. He checked the time. It was almost seven in the morning. He recalled what Yuri had said and gave himself one hour to find Sam and Grace and get out of the base before it was too late. Mitchell edged to the door and cracked it open. He was in a deserted corridor that led to another closed door.

  “You can’t wander around looking like a soldier,” he muttered to himself. Mitchell stripped what he needed from his vest and took his silenced 9mm pistol, leaving his rifle behind in an empty locker. He looked around the room for something to wear, but struck out. Mitchell took one least peek outside before sneaking out into the hallway and walking to the door. He peeked inside and saw a set of stairs heading upward. Mitchell slid into the stairwell and brought his pistol up in case he ran into anyone. When he came to the next floor, Mitchell checked to see if the coast was clear. Apart from the steady hum from a generator somewhere below him, the place was eerily quiet. Mitchell spotted a number over a door that read 505.

  “Five floors,” he muttered. “This is going to take forever.”

  With no other choice, Mitchell crept into the hallway, moved over to the door, and tried it. The door was open. He glanced inside and saw it was filled with lockers. Hoping to find something to change into Mitchell slipped into the room and began searching the lockers. Most were filled with spare parts or cleaning supplies. His luck changed when he found one packed full of old blue coveralls. He hurriedly changed out of his uniform and yanked on a set of coveralls. Before he left, Mitchell walked over to a sink and washed the dirt and grime from his face. Satisfied that he had done all he could to look decent, Mitchell walked out of the room and strolled along, checking the offices one by one, as if he belonged there.

  55

  “Let’s go! Let’s go!” yelled Yuri, waving the fuel truck over to the waiting helicopters.

  Jackson set his cup of coffee down, and checked the time. They had less than three hours before the missiles struck home. He picked up his rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and jogged over to speak with Yuri. On the outside, he was as cool as a glacier. Inside, he was ready to explode if one more thing went wrong.

  “How long until we can leave?” he asked Yuri.

  Yuri let go of the fuel hose and let his co-pilot take over. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “Yuri, please, I’m in no mood to play games. Just tell me how things are, straight up.”

  “Okay, number two helicopter is having problems with its rear tail rotor, and number four is experiencing electrical difficulties. If I can get both issues fixed, we’ll be able to depart around eight-thirty.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Nate, the minimum number of helicopters required for this operation is three. If I can’t get at least one of them in the air, we’re screwed.”

  “So much for Victor’s guarantee of
four working choppers,” groused Jackson.

  “He never gave us a guarantee. He took an educated guess, and was off by a mile. Nate, why don’t you and the rest of team go over the ground plan with General Saya one more time, and leave me to get us airborne?”

  Jackson knew when he was being told to walk away. “Sounds good, Yuri. Eight-thirty it is.”

  The more Jackson was around Saya’s men, the more he disliked what he saw. Many might have been former soldiers in the army, but now most were just glorified bullies in uniform. They sat or lounged around in groups, smoking or gambling. He hadn’t seen a single man clean his weapon, or check his equipment. If they were his men, there’d be hell to pay for such laziness. Jackson found Saya sitting in a collapsible chair, chatting with Dawn and Cardinal.

  “General, Yuri says we can go at eight-thirty,” said Jackson. “Will your men be ready at that time?”

  “Mister Jackson, you worry too much,” replied Saya. “They’re ready to go now.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see much enthusiasm from any of your men for this mission.”

  “When the time comes, they’ll do their job. Now, please take a seat and tell me just what exactly you expect my men and me to do once we reach the ULA’s fake refugee camp.”

  Jackson grabbed an ammo crate and flipped it on its side before sitting down. “Sir, the mission is quite simple.”

  Saya smiled. “I like simple plans. The more complicated the plan, the more than can go wrong.”

  “General, when we depart, Yuri will be in the lead chopper with Cardinal and a couple of your men to man the heavy weapons. The remainder of the assault force will follow in the remaining choppers. Just before we reach the refugee camp, Yuri will bank away, and commence an attack on the nearest ULA unit. You, Dawn, I, and the rest of your men will then land at the camp after suppressing the objective, because I expect us to be landing on a hot LZ. You, sir, with your men, will secure the perimeter and make sure nothing gets in or out. At least ten RPG teams will be required to help deal with the base’s automated defense systems. Dawn and I, along with two squads of your best sappers, will enter the facility under the temple, rescue our friends, and seal it shut.”

  “The drugs?”

  “General, I’d prefer you burnt them in place, but as per our initial agreement you’re free to do whatever you want with them.” Jackson shrugged and continued. “Once Yuri and Cardinal have wreaked havoc with the ULA, they will join us inside your perimeter and await the order to leave, which hopefully will come an hour or less after we land.”

  “And if we start to run out of time, then what?”

  Jackson avoided looking at Cardinal. He cleared his throat. “If, at ten minutes to ten, we haven’t met all of our mission objectives, we will depart the camp and head back here before the Indian airstrike occurs.”

  “Nate, I won’t leave without Sam,” said Cardinal firmly.

  “That’s why Ryan’s already on the ground, looking for Sam. Speaking of Ryan, where is he right now?”

  Cardinal turned his tablet so Jackson could see the screen. “He’s somewhere beneath the temple.”

  “That’s good. At least we know he’s alive and that he’s still mobile. If anyone can get Sam out of there it’s Ryan. Gordon, I don’t want to leave without her, either.”

  “You people should come work for me,” said Saya. “Your loyalty to one another is commendable, and in my line of business, loyalty is everything.”

  “Burn all of the drugs on the objective, and I’ll think about it.”

  Saya smiled. “And that is why you’ll never get a job out here.”

  “I don’t need one,” replied Jackson, charging his weapon. “I kind of like the one I’ve got.”

  56

  The sound of a helicopter’s blades cutting through the air grew louder by the second.

  Dimov brought a hand to his eyes to block out the ever-rising sun. A moment later, an all-gray Eurocopter flew over the top of a row of tall trees with millimeters to spare and maneuvered itself in to land in an open field next to the hill. Tension filled Dimov’s stomach. He had never laid his eyes on a member of the organization before. The helicopter landed smoothly. Its pilot switched off all power to the engines and waited for the rotor blades to slow down.

  Accompanied by two well-armed guards, Dimov strode forward with his chest pumped out and his head held high.

  The passenger door slid open. A woman dressed in an all-gray leather outfit and high boots stepped out onto the grass. She had short, black hair, porcelain-white skin, and looked to be in her early thirties. Her lips were ruby red. A hulking man with short, blond hair and arms the size of tree-trunks got out of the helicopter and stood directly behind the woman.

  “Before you make an obvious reference to my sex,” said the woman, with a hint of a German accent. “Yes, Mister Dimov, I am a woman, and I am also your direct supervisor.”

  “Ma’am, no disrespect was intended, but I had always assumed you were a man by your voice on the telephone,” replied Dimov.

  “A simple ploy to keep anyone who may have listened in on our conversations thinking exactly the same thing.”

  Dimov came sharply to attention and bowed his head slightly. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  The woman offed her hand in greeting. “Please call me Lena. It’s not my real name, but it will do for now.”

  Dimov shook Lena’s hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “You honor us with your visit.”

  “Nonsense. I was asked to check on the progress of your work, and to get from you a realistic schedule of when and in what quantities you can supply us with Achlys.”

  “Ma’am…my apologies, Lena…all will be explained to you during our tour of this facility.”

  “I hope so. I’d truly hate to leave here with bad news.”

  Dimov heard the threat but didn’t bat an eye. “There shall be no bad news. Achlys is yours for the taking.”

  Lena smiled. “Then let us begin the tour.”

  Dimov dismissed the two men with him, and escorted Lena and her bodyguard to the installation. Thick steel blast doors protected the entrance. As soon as the doors closed behind them, they felt the temperature drop inside the air-conditioned base. Bright lights lit up the bioweapons plant. The walls were painted a glossy white. Two guards stood by the entrance with their rifles cradled in their arms. Tall pillars extended from the floor to the roof.

  Lena stopped and looked around. “Your facility has a very modern look to it, Mister Dimov. It’s not what I would have expected to find in the middle of a jungle.”

  “There’s no point living like savages when you don’t have to,” he replied.

  “How many floors are there?”

  “Six, if you include the power plant.”

  “What type of power do you use?”

  Dimov smiled. “Geothermal. We tapped into a superheated hot spring and use it to power everything. There’s no need to truck in diesel fuel to run our generators. It’s a very efficient and clean power source.”

  “Also, impossible to detect by a surveillance satellite. Well done.”

  “I can’t take the credit. It was one of our engineers who came up with the idea.”

  “Regardless of whoever came up with the idea, I’m impressed.”

  Dimov felt himself relaxing around Lena. “Would you like to see the laboratories where we make Achlys?”

  “Of course.”

  Dimov led them down a flight of stairs and onto the main floor, which had once been the temple’s prayer room. A dozen offices encircled the duty center. Thick, bulletproof glass protected every room. Dimov escorted them to an elevator, which they took to the second floor. They stepped out into a corridor with huge, glass windows. Lena walked to the nearest window and looked inside. A couple of men in chemical suits moved around a room, ensuring their robotic helpers were functioning properly. She carried on to the next and stopped. Inside the room were several
tall, steel vats with bioweapons markings on them.

  Her eyes were aglow. “Is that where Achlys is being mass-produced?”

  “Correct,” said Dimov. “There are twenty different vats, each containing a different haplogroups gene marker. These vats could easily be sub-divided into hundreds of different and more precise haplogroup weapons.”

  Lena took a step back from the glass. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glossy. “This is amazing. I’d read the reports, but until today I thought this was just another hairbrained scheme. With this, we can blackmail the world’s powers into doing what we want.”

  “I’ve arranged a demonstration of the awesome power of Achlys for you.”

  Lena nodded. “Later. I need to call my father and let him know the good news.”

  “Not a problem; it’s not as if my prisoners are going anywhere.”

  “Before I call, what are your safety protocols to ensure we can’t be stopped?”

  Dimov looked at his watch. “In about ninety minutes, a plane will be leaving with five men onboard. Each man will carry four aerosol cans containing a different haplogroup. When they finally land in London, New York, Cairo, Tokyo, and New Delhi, they will be met by more agents, who will each take an aerosol container with them. The combined intelligence services of the world might find some, but not all, of our men before we could activate the bioweapon in their possession.”