The Tide: Ghost Fleet (Tide Series Book 7)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “Any rough ideas?”

  Chao shook his head. “We’re in the dark here.”

  “Damn,” Dom said. “At least we know where they’re going.” He paused. “Assuming, of course, this isn’t another ploy.”

  “I don’t know,” Samantha said. “This was a pain in the ass to decode. They aren’t messing around with their encryption game this time. Took me damn near two days to rip it apart.”

  “Is that slow?” Dom asked.

  “For other people, no,” Samantha said. “For me, yes. They made it hard on purpose. My guess is they didn’t want us to figure that one out. This is probably the real deal.”

  “‘Probably’ isn’t good enough for me,” Meredith said. “My bet is there’s something more here. Remember what happens when we underestimate the FGL.”

  Dom knew all too well. From the Titans in the Congo to the Hybrids in Morocco, the FGL was full of terrifying surprises. “Meredith’s absolutely right. We’re going to take this with an enormous grain of salt. All the same, Kinsey needs to know.”

  “On it.” Chao dialed the emergency access line to Kinsey.

  “Captain Holland,” Kinsey said, already sounding annoyed. “This better be good.”

  “Define good,” Dom said. “We’ve got word that DC may be in imminent danger.”

  “DC is always in imminent danger,” Kinsey said.

  Dom let out a breath through his nostrils. Meredith rolled her eyes.

  “General, we intercepted another set of communications between FGL command and their admiral. We’ll send you a complete recording of the messages, along with our version of the transcripts for your analysis. But the gist of it is that we found the missing army of Skulls. It’s headed straight for Washington.”

  “We already analyzed those communications ourselves,” Kinsey replied.

  Dom pressed his palm against his forehead. Goddamn, this man knows how to be frustrating. “You didn’t think to tell us?”

  “Captain, you are low on my priority list. You told me you can take care of yourself out there, so I’ve taken your word for it. Don’t come whining to me because I didn’t provide you with highly classified intelligence.”

  Meredith rolled her eyes at Dom and shook her head, a half smile on her lips. He could see what she was saying in that expression: Don’t take the general’s bait.

  “General Kinsey,” Dom began slowly, “we’re out here risking our asses for you. You tell us to go intercept some shipment of Skulls, we do it. We’ve done so unquestioningly. Me and several of my people almost died in Dublin. Let us work with you and not just for you.”

  “No, Captain.” Dom could almost see Kinsey spitting on the other end of the line. “That’s not the way the US military works. If you want to be treated like we treat our regular armed forces, you will act like it. When I tell you to sail, you ask where to. When I tell you to shoot, you ask at what. But when it comes to intelligence, you and Meredith Webb are no longer associated with the CIA. That message was quite clear to us, Captain Holland. The information we share with you will be on a need-to-know basis only.”

  Heat flushed through Dom’s face. He wanted to tell Kinsey off. But when he saw Meredith looking at him with a raised eyebrow, he knew now was not the time to lose his temper.

  “Understood,” he ground out. “I’ll await your orders.”

  “That’s damn right you will, Holland.”

  Then the line went dead.

  “So is that it?” Thomas asked. “We’re just going to wait around for Kinsey to tell us what to do?”

  Dom laughed. He had been mad, but Thomas’s face was as red as iron in a flame. The older man seethed, his brow furrowed into wrinkled gorges.

  “You know me better than that. Kinsey has his allies, but so do we. If he’s not willing to share his intel, we’ll do a little recon on our own.”

  -14-

  Navid pressed a hand against the window of the helicopter. Below him was a landscape dotted with something he hadn’t expected to see again: electric lights. All over Frankfurt, the yellow glow of what looked like stars fallen to earth shone up at him. The streets were largely clear, with only a few vehicles traveling them. As the chopper lowered toward those lights, he was able to make out the individual vehicles better. Most appeared to be some variant of military transport. There was even an army of semitrucks hauling trailers. No matter how ordinary things looked from the sky, the world below still hadn’t returned to normal.

  “You look like you have never flown before,” Felix Becker said. He was the lead German scientist managing the pharmaceutical operations.

  “It’s not that,” Navid said, turning to look at the white-haired scientist. “I didn’t expect to see the lights.”

  Felix offered no smile in return. “We have restored limited power to our community and, most importantly, the facilities here. The airport is not nearly as busy as it was before the outbreak, but it’s capable of handling a few planes each a day.”

  “Do you really get that many flights coming in and out?” Lauren asked.

  “Not yet,” Felix said. “But we hope that will change.” He leaned toward the window. “There it is.”

  A huge L-shaped building rose from between the dark trees. Spotlights shone from guard towers all around it. Transport trucks crawled in and out of the facility. A few tanks were positioned near an entrance gate.

  “These are the production facilities for Mueller Pharmaceuticals,” Felix said. “It used to be that over one hundred different pharmaceuticals and therapies were produced here for shipment across the world. Now, almost all of these facilities are being converted to make your Phoenix Compound.”

  Navid’s stomach flipped. A few months ago he’d been a lowly graduate student in Boston pursuing his research with the goal of getting a patent and publishing a few research papers. Now he was being flown into a multinational drug conglomerate to help with the production of a pharmaceutical compound that could change the course of history. And damn it all, he’d helped design that compound. It had always been a fantasy of his to make a lifesaving therapy, but he had never considered that his dream would come true in the middle of a nightmare.

  The helicopter lowered toward a makeshift helipad surrounded by soldiers and more military vehicles. An icy chill crept through him when he realized the soldiers had their weapons aimed at the helicopter. He’d though they’d come as volunteers to be welcomed with open arms.

  “Have there been a lot of attacks?” Navid asked, gesturing to the soldiers. The rotor wash pushed the grass down as the chopper landed.

  “We’ve had our fair share,” Felix said. “Many packs of, as you call them, Skulls have come. And we had a number of unidentified aircraft patrol the area when we first started reestablishing these facilities. Before we could get fully up and running, it was difficult to tell whether they were allies or members of the Forces of Global Liberation. So now we prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  Navid didn’t want to ask what had become of all those aircraft, suspect or not.

  The door to the cabin slid open. Felix hopped out first, followed by Lauren, then Navid. The soldiers escorted them from the helipad, surging toward a gate that opened as they approached. Once they passed through and it closed, another door opened inside the compound with an electric buzz.

  A blast of sterile, air-conditioned air washed around them as they entered. People in white coats filled the halls, each giving Felix a cursory nod as they filtered into other doors and hallways. Felix led Navid and Lauren down the whitewashed halls. Four soldiers shadowed them.

  The German scientist paused beside a large window set into the wall. “Welcome to our production facilities.”

  The huge space beyond the window, large as an aircraft hangar, was filled with huge steel drums. Pipes snaked between these vats, and gauges sprouted from them like mechanical flowers. People in blue and white clean room suits scurried around the jungle of manufacturing equipment.

  T
he facilities Navid had visited in the States with Divya had been big, dwarfing his old laboratories at Mass Gen in Boston and the one on the Huntress. But this was in another league altogether.

  “Good God,” Navid said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I am glad you think so,” Felix said, a proud smile glimmering across his face. “Before the government took over this facility, I was the director of operations here. I took great pride in what we did. But there can be no greater pride than in ending the Oni Agent scourge once and for all.”

  “Well said,” Lauren said. “I hope you do know, both Navid and I have limited manufacturing experience. And when I say limited, I mean we’re used to producing the Phoenix Compound on a setup that could fit on your kitchen table.”

  “I am acquainted with your work, Dr. Winters and Dr. Ghasemi.”

  Navid sought to correct him. “Oh, I’m not a doc—”

  Felix put a hand on Navid’s shoulder. “Young man, I could not imagine a graduate committee rejecting any dissertation you write. You have more than earned your doctorate.” Then he whispered to Navid, “Besides, it will make the technicians here more comfortable to be working for a young scientist if they believe he’s fully qualified.”

  Navid gave him a firm nod. “Understood.”

  Felix gestured for them to follow him down another corridor. “As to your concerns, Dr. Winters, I am well aware your capabilities are more suited for a research laboratory environment instead of a manufacturing facility. I personally requested your presence.”

  Interesting, Navid thought. He’d been under the impression that they’d been sent because it was convenient and Kinsey didn’t have the people to spare back in the States.

  Felix continued. “You see, we have more than enough expertise when it comes to manufacturing and scaling up production. That is not a problem.” He tapped his temple. “What I need is the genius that developed the Phoenix Compound. If any technical challenges arise, I want you to be around to address them. The American officials I spoke to offered their manufacturing protocols for the Phoenix Compound. But we did not earn our reputation as global leader in pharmaceutical manufacturing by following other people’s protocols.”

  “So you’re going to develop your own protocols from the ground up?” Navid asked. To him, that sounded like a waste of time.

  “We will,” Felix answered. “I believe we can do things much more efficiently and faster than what is going on in the States at this moment. And if your countrymen choose to accept it, I will gladly share our improved protocols for manufacturing the compound. This may cause a short-term delay in production, but I believe the time cost is worth it when we consider what is at stake.”

  This man was either mad with arrogance or he truly believed in the ingenuity of his people. Navid figured he’d find out soon enough.

  “I’m glad you’re confident in our abilities,” Lauren said. “We’re happy to help out in any way possible.”

  “That is very good to hear.” Felix paused at another doorway. He slid his keycard into a slot, and the door opened. “This will be your new home for the time being.”

  Navid gawked at the lab. He couldn’t help it. While the space itself was maybe only three times as big as the labs he’d worked in at Mass Gen, the equipment shone as if it had never been used. Ultra-performance light chromatography, mass spectrometry, automated cell incubators, and other top-of-the-line equipment to make a graduate student salivate. A few scientists were already preparing equipment and samples in the machines. It would be a pleasure to work in a lab like this—if he didn’t have the weight of their assignment heavy on his shoulders.

  “Will this be acceptable for your work?” Felix asked.

  “More than,” Lauren answered, looking almost as awestruck as Navid.

  “Very good,” Felix said. “If everything we have heard about the FGL’s continuous efforts is true, then the real frontline of this war can be found in labs just like this.” His expression grew gravely serious. “And you two will be the ones leading the armies to victory.”

  -15-

  The line of trucks snaked toward the port from Lajes Field. An unseasonably warm wind blew over the island. It carried with it the scent of the ocean. The island was covered in lush vegetation, and if Dom didn’t know any better, he could be fooled into thinking they had arrived there for a springtime vacation.

  “Makes you wish we could spend some time relaxing instead of just reloading,” Meredith said, standing beside him. “I’ve always dreamt of staying in one of those resorts. Wake up for a cappuccino and a walk on the beach then go into the mountains for a hike.”

  “There might still be time for that,” Dom said. “No word from Kinsey for days, and no more communications from the FGL. We’re in purgatory, so we may as well enjoy it.”

  “I know you better than that,” Meredith said. They began walking down the gangplank to shore. “You can’t stand a single minute of relaxation if there is even one Skull out there.”

  A Humvee led the group resupply convoy to the pier. Colonel Elias Ronaldo stepped out of the front passenger seat and strode toward Dom and Meredith, extending a hand to each in greeting.

  “You can never get too far from the Azores now that you’ve seen them, can you?” he said in his thick Portuguese accent.

  “Not when you keep tempting me with fresh supplies,” Dom said.

  Ronaldo beckoned them into the Humvee. They took off, bumping over the road toward the barbed-wire fences and black airstrips of the Lajes Field command center. The blackened husk of a building stuck up in the middle of the facility, a brutal reminder of the horror that had taken hold here. As the evolved Oni Agent infection had spread among the personnel, a culmination of disasters had resulted in a fire that scorched the isolation ward.

  “Any Skull sightings on the island recently?” Dom asked.

  Ronaldo shook his head. “Ever since Lauren’s team identified the source, we have been clean. I still find it hard to believe the Oni Agent evolved on its own to be transmitted in fleas. We’re used to unwelcome bunkmates in the barracks, so at least we had the chemicals to wipe them out.”

  “Good,” Dom said as the Humvee rolled up to command.

  The driver stepped out, opening Ronaldo’s door. Meredith and Dom filed out after him. Ronaldo led them into a room filled with computers. They marched between the men and women working the communications systems and settled into Ronaldo’s conference room. As Dom looked through the windows of the conference room into the main room, he noticed a number of empty chairs—stations where people had worked before the infection had spread here.

  Ronaldo spread a chart on the table between them. “I obtained some information from General Kinsey, but most of this we found on our own.”

  Meredith twisted the map so she could see it. “What is it?”

  “All the locations where we have observed naval activity. One thing we’ve noticed in many of these ports are some new friends.” Ronaldo pushed a stack of photographs in front of them. Some were blurry; others were crisp. But it wasn’t difficult to recognize the subjects of the images.

  “Good Lord,” Dom said. “The FGL must be salvaging whatever ships they can.”

  There was everything from a Russian Slava-class cruiser to more antiquated Soviet-era Osa-class missile boats previously used by the Syrian Arab Navy. It seemed that at every port they had discovered under FGL control, there was a hodgepodge navy presence.

  “Yes,” Ronaldo said. “Normally I would say these ships would be no match for your American Navy, but your country is still in disarray. The FGL’s naval activities make me nervous.”

  “Me, too,” Dom said. “We can’t take on all these ships by ourselves. It was one thing to raid the container ships, but warships like this... Even if the Huntress is technologically superior, we only have so many guns. And despite how advanced it is, our ship still sinks like any other.”

  “Have you passed all this on to the US?” Meredith aske
d.

  “I have,” Ronaldo said. “I have also asked if we can extend any aerial support as well. But I have been told to stay my aircraft until we have further orders.”

  “Why wouldn’t they want to bomb the shit out of those ports?” Meredith asked. “Send in whatever Kinsey has and take those ships out before they even reach our waters.”

  Dom stared at the map and the images Ronaldo had provided. Not too long ago, Dom had asked similar questions about Tangier. It turned out Kinsey had tried to send in ground troops, but they’d been defeated and captured by the FGL. O’Neil was evidence of what had happened to the survivors of that failed mission.

  “I think the state of things back home might be worse than we know,” Dom said. “If Kinsey sends out the navy, he leaves the US wide open for an attack. And what happens if, God forbid, the FGL defeats whatever Kinsey throws at them?”

  The color drained from Meredith’s face. “With no one standing in the FGL’s way, it would be a massacre.”

  “I hope that you two are not right,” Ronaldo said, brushing his fingers across the map. “Europe is fragile. I hoped that the US was in a better position, but it sounds like that may not be true.” He tapped on one of the ports: Tallin, Estonia. “I can tell you just how precarious things are here. We’ve reestablished contact with some EU forces in places like the Baltic states. Many of the governments are in disarray, but some military elements are still in place or at least are trying to reorganize.”

  “Can they mount any kind of attack?” Dom asked.

  “Most, I’m afraid, could not,” Ronaldo said. “The best we’ve done is convince them to carry out our recon. That’s where some of these images were taken from. But they are also at an inherent disadvantage. In Turkey, we believe the navy was one of the FGL’s first targets. They took control of the ships there, and the Turkish forces that are left have barely been able to secure a few neighborhoods in Istanbul.”

  “That sounds like what we saw in Tangier,” Dom said.