by John Darnton
"And you think it's somewhere near Savannah. We'll follow them."
"But which ones? There're three of us and two dozen of them. They're coming from all over the country. We won't be able to keep tabs on them. And they know what we look like—remember the judge. So we can't let them see us. We have to spy on them without being seen."
Jude went back to the computer. He tried various combinations of words for another half hour, then began cursing as the computer answered each time the same way: zero files.
He turned in exasperation, and as he looked at Tizzie, he could see an idea take shape, the inspiration dancing into her eyes.
"I've got one," she said. "Try Savannah and Samuel Billington."
He knew it made sense even before he punched it in, but he still cheered when he saw the file come up. It was a single short article from the Atlanta Journal and Constitution dated September 12, 1992. It was about the sale of an old army base sixty miles from Savannah. A Georgia congressman, P.J. Clarkson, had put through a special bill permitting the base, which had been abandoned for years, to be sold into private hands. The buyer was Samuel T. Billington.
"Clarkson, he's that guy you spotted on the floor of Congress," said Jude. "He's a member of the Group. And once again, Billington is putting up the money. He gave it to the Lab."
"It all fits," said Tizzie. "We've found your nest of vipers."
Jude's excitement was mitigated somewhat, though not too much, by a sight that he saw in the mirror overhead. Lifting his eyes to the headless bodies, he saw that Tizzie had placed her hand on Skyler's knee. Not his knee, really—closer to his thigh.
In fact, thought Jude, her hand was probably resting just over his Gemini tattoo.
Chapter 30
Tizzie rented a car at the Savannah airport, and they headed out of town, threading their way through a countryside of military bases. They took Ogeechee Road across the wetlands that skirted Hunter Army Air Field. Twenty miles later, they picked up Route 144 past Wright Army Air Field. At Route 119, they turned right, toward Fort Stewart.
"Roads may be closed," the map warned, and it was correct. Twice, they passed barricades. They were aiming for the base annex, known during its army lifetime as Stewart II, a secret area that for years was not to be found on any document available to the public. Since the base had been decommissioned and sold into private hands, however, the plans were available through the Army Corps of Engineers. Earlier that morning, Jude had obtained a set, as thick as a village phone book, and he sat up front, guiding Tizzie.
They had to drive twenty more miles north to 280, then west through the small towns of Pembroke, Groveland and Daisy, and finally south toward Midway. They were coming into the military region through the back door.
"Turn here," said Jude.
There were no signs, but the sharp left angle of the turn was a giveaway—and so was the slightly elevated tarmac, suggestive of solid design and good drainage: a road built to carry weight, like military trucks. It was straight as a gun barrel. After a mile and a half, the road entered a grove of tall pines. A dirt road cut off to the left and disappeared into the trees. They took it, hid the car and walked through the pines, until they came to a vast field of foothigh grass.
In the center stood the army base. They could barely see the buildings themselves, because the perimeter was protected with a cyclone fence topped by an angled overhang that was ringed with concertina wire.
"Now what?" said Tizzie. "If they have any kind of security, we won't even make it as far as the fence."
Jude grunted. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and peered through them, moving slowly, left to right and back again, up and down.
"From the little I can see, it doesn't look like there's much activity," he said. "There's a guardhouse at the front gate, but I can't tell if it's manned."
He focused on the razor-sharp teeth of the concertina wire.
"The fence looks strong. No holes."
"Are there lights?" asked Skyler.
"Not sure. There are no lamp posts. But there could be spotlights on the ground. For that matter, maybe the fence is wired to an alarm. I saw a security center on the plans, and it said something about an alarm."
"Great," said Tizzie. "Any ideas?"
"There's a back gate marked on the plans. And if I remember right, a control panel for it about twenty feet in from the fence. That's on the far side, so I can't see it from here. But if we could just get one person inside, he could open it up."
"Getting one in is as hard as getting three in," she said.
"I know that. We'll figure out something. We just need a little time."
"We don't have time. Today's Monday. Tomorrow the Lab meets in Savannah. They'll undoubtedly come here. And once they're inside that fence, they can do anything they want. We won't be able to stop them."
"Tell me something I don't know."
That was something Raymond would say, Jude thought. He missed him—especially at the moment. It wouldn't hurt to have a trustworthy ally in the FBI right now.
"Let's go back to Savannah," Jude said. "We can go over the plans and check out that hotel."
No sooner had they turned back into the woods than they heard a sound coming from the road—a car. They ran back, threw themselves on the ground and watched. The car, a Ford Taurus, moved slowly along the approach road and stopped at the front gate. A man came out of the guardhouse and stooped down toward the driver's window, talking. Then he stepped back and the car door opened and a man got out. The two walked to the back of the car, and the driver opened the trunk for inspection. The guard reached in and touched something.
Tizzie tugged at Jude's binoculars.
"Give them to me. Quick."
She grabbed them and raised them, just as the driver was starting back to the door.
"Show me your face," she urged. "Show me your face, damn it."
The guard opened the door, and the man stepped forward to sit down.
Then, as luck would have it, he stood leaning against the open door while they talked some more.
When they left the woods and were walking on the dirt road, Tizzie explained why she had suddenly become so excited.
"I recognized him," she said. "That's the doctor, the one who examined that old pregnant woman in the hospital. His name is Gilmore."
She stepped between Jude and Skyler and grabbed an arm of each.
"And just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger."
¨
They spent the night at the Planters Inn in Savannah. The next morning, after a breakfast of bacon and eggs, Tizzie went off to look for a medical supply store, while Jude and Skyler staked out the DeSoto, a fourteen-story brick building on Liberty Street. They didn't dare enter the lobby, but took turns from various locations across the street.
Skyler was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping cup after cup and swiveling around to keep an eye on the hotel entrance, when he saw a car pull into the circular drive. Out stepped the judge, whom he recognized immediately; he was an older version of Raisin, startlingly frail as he moved slowly through the front door. Skyler went to a pay phone on the wall and called Jude on his cell phone. Jude was three blocks away, and he hurried back. He missed the judge, but he arrived in time to watch a parade of other arrivals.
They don't really look like young leaders anymore, Jude thought, as cars and taxis pulled up at the entrance and disgorged men and women who appeared to be in early middle age yet youthfully dressed.
Tizzie returned in the car and parked across the street from the hotel. They slipped inside and waited there, Jude hunched down in the passenger seat behind a pair of dark sunglasses and Skyler sitting in the back. Seeing Raisin's double had made Skyler quiet. Now he picked up the plans of the base. He located the one building he had been looking for, the hospital, and he began studying it in detail. If they could get one of them inside, there was a way...
A black limo with tinted windows moved grandly down the street, paused for a
second and turned quickly up the circular drive, depositing an entire entourage. Then the car drove down the street and turned quickly toward a garage around the corner. Tizzie leapt out of the car, hurried across the street and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, the front door opened and she reemerged.
She gave a hidden thumbs-up as she approached the car and got in. "That's it," she said. "She took the presidential suite. Was I right or was I right?"
"Okay," replied Jude. "But I still don't understand it. Why in hell is a sixty-year-old woman about to give birth? What's the big deal? Aside from the fact that she belongs in the Guinness Book of Records. And what does she have to do with the Lab?"
"Who knows? But if we're patient, I've got a feeling we'll find out."
She looked over at Jude.
"Loan me your cellular phone. Skyler, is the phone number for the base on those papers?"
They sat in the car an hour and a half, conversation at an end and their attention wandering, when suddenly the front end of the limo sprang into view, rounding the corner. Tizzie was so surprised, it took her some seconds to shake off her thoughts and find the ignition. She pulled out two cars behind.
"She must have gone out a back way," she said. "I hope she's in there."
They followed the limo at a respectful distance, and as it took the route they had traveled the day before, moving swiftly and with assurance as if its driver knew the way, their confidence grew. They were reasonably sure now that they knew where it was going and who it was carrying.
The question was: could they get inside the perimeter fence?
When the limo turned onto the base road, they held back until it was out of sight. They waited a full ten minutes, then took the turn and peeled off onto the dirt road into the trees. Tizzie stopped the car, opened a package and put on the white lab coat she had just purchased. Then she produced her badge from the SUNY lab and placed it around her neck. Jude and Skyler stepped out. Each of them hugged her.
"Good luck," said Jude. "I'm still not sure about this."
"It's our only chance. I've got the coat, the badge. If I can convince them I'm Gilmore's assistant and let me in, then we can follow Skyler's plan. What other choice do we have?"
They turned and walked into the trees as she pulled away in the car. They took up the same position on the edge of the field and watched as her car pulled up to the gate. A guard stepped out to speak to her. He was carrying a clipboard and he looked at it.
"Shit," said Jude. "Let's hope Gilmore has an assistant. Or she'll have to do some fast footwork."
The guard peered at her badge. She held it up for him to get a good look. Then he went back to the list and made a check mark.
It seemed to them that they were talking a long time—too long. But finally, Tizzie stepped out and opened the trunk. As the guard looked inside, Jude peered through the binoculars and spotted her hand behind her back, the thumb raised once again. In no time, she was back inside the car and the front gate yawned open to admit her. Then she disappeared—inside.
"We should get in position," said Skyler. "She might make it to the control box and throw the switch right away."
He didn't tell Jude, but he was beginning to feel ill again. It came upon him suddenly, starting with a feebleness in the legs. He knew the symptoms that would soon follow: a heaviness in all his limbs, then a weakness and a horrible pain in the chest that might lead to a blackout.
He prayed that he would be strong enough to do what he had to do.
They followed the line of the trees around the field. Skyler went behind Jude and found it hard to keep up; he felt as if he were walking through knee-high water. Twice, he had to stop to catch his breath. Jude walked ahead without realizing that he was alone, then stopped to wait for him.
"C'mon," he said. "We've got to hurry."
When they finally reached the rear of the base, they lay on the ground while Jude reconnoitered through the binoculars. Skyler was breathing heavily. Jude poked him with an elbow, still looking through the field glasses.
"There's a drainage ditch over there." He pointed to a spot about twenty yards away. "It looks like it leads right up to the fence not far from the back gate. We can take it. It'll give us some cover."
He was off again, moving back through the woods. Skyler found it difficult to get up, pushing himself off the ground with his arms.
Jude positioned himself behind a bush, lowered his head and ran in a half crouch across the field until he reached the ditch, throwing himself into it headfirst. He didn't disappear—Skyler could see his back and the top of his head—but he was harder to spot. If they have lookouts, they'll catch us, Skyler thought as Jude looked back and waved him forward urgently.
Running was hard. He felt weak and exposed, both at the same time, and when he reached the ditch, he flung himself down and just wanted to stay there. But Jude was already ahead, crawling on his belly with the weeds on either side partially concealing him. Skyler felt a surge of adrenaline and followed, wriggling painfully, digging in with his knees and elbows. It felt as if he were pulling himself bodily up a cliff.
By the time he arrived at Jude's feet and looked up, the fence looming over him with its sharpened wire coils silhouetted against the sky, he was exhausted.
"Stay here," Jude whispered. "I'll try the gate."
And he was out of the ditch, hugging the fence until he reached the cast iron gate with a metal handhold. He tugged it, then pulled harder. Skyler could see him mouthing swear words as he tried to heave it outward with both hands, straining with his arms and shoulders. No success—the gate was solidly closed, locked. He looked over at Skyler helplessly, then darted back to the ditch.
"We're screwed," he said.
Skyler's heart sank, but he knew there was another possibility.
"Maybe not."
Skyler pointed dead ahead where the ditch dipped a bit and disappeared into a culvert at the bottom of the fence. The opening was under two feet in diameter, a tight fit, and it disappeared into blackness. But it might work.
"I hate that," said Jude. "You go first."
And Skyler did. A few feet in, his way was blocked by a metal grate. He squeezed his fingers through the grid and tugged. It gave a bit, but remained in place. He undid his belt, pulled it out and threaded one end through a hole near the periphery. He backed up and pulled, with Jude helping him, until the grate popped out, crashing to the ground. They pulled it out, and Skyler set out again.
He pulled himself forward again until he felt the concrete cylinder enclose him on all sides. He wanted to lift his head so that he could face forward, but there was no room and he kept banging it. He extended his hands ahead of him, for protection as much as anything, and squeezed himself ahead inches at a time. He felt something cold and clammy on his elbows, then his chest and belly and thighs. It seeped into his clothes. Rank water. If it rises, he thought, six inches—it's all over, I won't be able to breathe.
He halted for a minute to fight down a rising panic. Behind him, he could hear Jude, grunting and straining. He felt even more trapped with him trailing behind.
Then came the sound—high-pitched, excruciatingly loud, a ringing. It seemed to scream, almost inside the pipe itself. Skyler's heart pounded. The sound stopped, dying out in an echo. Then it started again, as loud as ever, and stopped again. Finally, it started and cut off abruptly.
Jude cursed.
"Goddammit."
Skyler heard him struggling, the noise of arms flailing about, a tiny splash.
"Goddamned phone."
Jude whispered into it. It was Tizzie.
"I know it's locked," he said. "We're underground, dammit. Why the hell did you call? The noise is deafening."
Jude was silent for a while, then spoke softly.
"Okay. And for God's sake, don't call again."
He clicked off. Then he whispered to Skyler.
"She says she thinks she knows where this ends. There's a manhole or something inside the fe
nce. Just hope this leads there."
"She's okay?"
"Sounded okay."
His voice echoed underground.
Skyler kept going in the darkness. He felt that if he stopped, he would be unable to summon the strength to begin again. Progress was measured in inches, and they were harder and harder to come by. After ten minutes, his hand reached a pool of water. He pulled himself forward, and he entered a different kind of space. He could raise his head and see thin beams of gray light shooting down from above. The pipe led into a vertical cylinder about three feet wide and four feet high. He squeezed his way into it and stood bent over. Water covered his feet. Above was a thick manhole cover.
Either way, he realized, they had come to the end. Either they could remove the cover and get out, or they would likely perish where they were. There was no retreat: the cylinder was too narrow to turn around in and fit back inside the culvert.
Jude's head emerged from the pipe, then his shoulders. He grunted and finally extracted himself, standing up next to Skyler. They were crammed together inside the concrete tube.
"I'm here."
The voice was a bare, disembodied whisper. It came from above—Tizzie.
Skyler took his belt and poked one end through a hole in the cover.
"Put it back through the other hole. Then when I say three, lift the belt with all your might," he directed.
The tip of the belt reappeared. Quickly, he fastened the buckle, gave it a tug and he and Jude straightened their legs until they felt the manhole cover resting against their upper backs.
Softly, Skyler counted: one... two... three!
They stiffened and heaved themselves upward, straightening their backs to carry the weight in their legs. Above, Tizzie grabbed the belt in both hands, straddling the cover and lifting with extended arms.
It lifted. It moved. It hovered several inches in the air, as all three of them strained to keep it there. Then Tizzie jumped to one side and pulled the belt from an angle, as hard as she could, so that gradually the cover slid over, scraping against the ground. She stopped, pulled again, and the cover was halfway off, leaving enough room for Skyler and Jude to squeeze past. First one, then the other, leapt up, grateful to be above ground again.