by Nick Thacker
“Sturdivant is not my employer, Captain Beale. He is merely a middleman. He has a list of requirements, no doubt a list you are carrying as we speak, and rest assured, I will check off every box on that list.”
“But we need to assess the technology and the support system, and report back with —”
“You will do nothing of the sort.”
There was a pause, and Ben could barely see Beale’s mouth moving on the screen.
“They switched channels,” Reggie whispered. “That’s not good.”
“It is a private communication,” Mrs. E added. “Which means Beale is discussing something with his own men.”
“Like I said — not good.”
Beale’s voice switched back to their channel.
“Garza, we can finish this one-on-one, in your office. Have your suits stand down and we’ll —”
“You are not here to give me orders,” Garza interrupted. “Nor are you here to negotiate. You are here to steal my tech.”
“Garza we’re not —”
“I didn’t move my entire business to Peru to simply be once again infiltrated by an illegal force,” Garza said. “I don’t appreciate the implications. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let your team leave, and we won’t speak of this again.”
Another pause, and then another voice came through Ben’s headset. “Door’s locked, boss.”
Beale spoke to Garza. “You locked the door behind us?”
“There is another exit on the opposite side of the demonstration floor.” Garza said. “But I thought you came here for a demonstration?”
“Garza…”
“I will let you leave,” Garza continued. “If you make it through my demonstration.”
“What the —”
A few others on the channel — Beale’s other men, still hiding behind the crates and boxes — cursed. Ben heard the distinct sound of the men arming their rifles.
“I’ll make this easy. You have exactly ten seconds to get to the opposite side of the floor. I will activate a single Exo for the demonstration, so as not to damage any of my other prototypes.”
The CSO group watched the screens, each of their faces full of shock. Ben couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“You think he’ll go through with it?” Reggie asked.
“It’s Vicente Garza,” Julie said, her voice full of rage. “He answers to no one. This is pure arrogance, and I have no doubt —”
Her sentence was cut off by the sound of a klaxon ringing through their headsets, then the sound of a computerized female voice, counting down the seconds.
“10…”
“9…”
“Shit!” Beale’s men began chattering, none of them bothering to switch channels. Ben and his team could hear everything.
“Head to the sides, flank them,” Jeffers said. “We don’t know which one of these assholes will be activated.”
On screen, Beale’s six-man team split in half, three men heading to the top of the screen and three heading to the bottom. The bottom three disappeared from view, but Ben could clearly see the three soldiers on the top half of the screen running, sprinting flat-out alongside the stone wall.
“Six…”
“Five…”
“Should we attack? Take out the people inside the suits?” a man asked.
“Negative,” Beale said. “Conserve ammo, get to cover where those boxes are on the other side.”
Ben couldn’t see the boxes, but he assumed there were crates and boxes stacked alongside the far wall, just as there were on the left-hand side of the computer monitor.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“Shit! Beale, we’re not going to make —”
“Shut up and get behind something!”
Jeffers’ voice again. “Get ready, boys. Aim for the legs. The head’s shielded, but if we can drop it to the ground —”
“One…”
Another klaxon sounded, and Ben saw Julie put her hand over her mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath of air.
Surely Garza isn’t going to…
One of the exoskeletons — Exos, as Garza had called them — in the center of the group of machines came to life. Ben could barely see the dark-skinned, black-haired person inside of it. It turned completely around with a fluid, three-step motion, then began marching toward the opposite wall.
“The door’s still open, guys,” one of Beale’s soldiers said. “It’s about fifty more feet, and we can —”
A flash of light filled the screen, before the camera had time to adjust the exposure settings. A second later, Ben heard a loud rat-tat-tat sound in his ears, and then he saw that the Exo had fired from a weapon he hadn’t seen before.
“It’s on his shoulder,” Reggie said. “Some sort of machine gun, like a mini turret.”
The weapon rattled again, and Ben saw the tiny sparks of tracer rounds dancing out from the Exo. The light from the rounds stuttered across the screen, no doubt the refresh settings on the display and camera unable to keep up with the high-speed bullets.
He heard the result of the fire through the soldiers’ own microphones. One man screamed, another just grunted, a sickening, wet sound of gurgling blood and air.
Another round of one-way fire, and two more men screamed.
“Shit!” Jeffers said. “Lang is down. Sir, we need —”
Another round of fire and Jeffers’ voice cut out.
There were a few more blasts from the shoulder-mounted turret, and Ben thought he heard a couple shots of return fire from whoever was left of Beale’s crew, then there was silence.
It was palpable. Ben looked around the room. Mrs. E’s expression was stoic, but he could sense the energy inside her, the fire behind her eyes. Reggie was livid, his body gently shaking.
Julie’s face was an abstract artwork of emotion. Anger, rage, sadness, confusion. Perhaps even satisfaction, the amazement of not being with Beale’s group when it had happened.
“Are… you guys okay?”
Heads shook. Julie looked at him. He wanted her to tell him — to tell all of them — to turn around, to head back down the stairs and get their scuba gear and leave the way they came.
He wanted this to end, to get out, to run home and sit by his fireplace and not worry about exoskeletons or corrupt soldiers or Garza.
But then there was a pinprick of realization. A tiny, microscopic revelation that began as a seed, then quickly germinated into a full-fledged feeling. He knew it was the truth, and he had been trying to hide it within himself.
He wanted it to not be true, but he knew Julie was feeling the same thing. They all were.
They were just waiting for him to give the order.
She opened her mouth, and spoke her truth. His truth.
“We have to keep going,” she said. “We have to stop him.”
Ben nodded, then waited for the others to agree. They did so without hesitation.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Let’s go. The stairs will take us down to that level; we can find the warehouse and get our bearings. We don’t know where Garza is, but he’s not going to leave the base until he knows Beale’s crew is dead. Let’s take advantage of the element of surprise while he doesn’t know we’re —”
Ben was cut off by the sound of the speakers cackling through the air once again.
He heard his name, and his blood immediately cooled.
“Hello, Harvey Bennett,” Garza said. “I didn’t want you to miss the demonstration, either. I’m glad you were able to find our observation deck. Hopefully you were able to get a feed?”
The statement ended as though it were a question, but Garza’s voice continued. “Now that we’re finished with Beale, I think it’s prudent to finish what we’ve started — you and me. How does that sound, Ben?”
Ben’s fists clenched and his knuckles whitened. He knows we’re here.
“Very interesting strategy, I might add. Using our waste and circulation tunnel? Very goo
d stuff. I have to ask, though: what the hell is your plan now?”
Ben closed his eyes and bowed his head. That is a good question.
What the hell is the plan now?
41
Garza
“Sir?”
Garza’s back was to the door, his eyes on the computer screen on his desk, where he had been watching the events play out on the demonstration floor. He threw his right hand up and waved for the soldier to enter. Vicente Garza was in his private quarters, which to him barely passed as a room — no windows, no closets, and he didn’t have a personal restroom. The room had been cut into the stone, much like the other spaces on the mine’s main operations floor.
“Come in,” he added, his voice straining to add an air of annoyance.
The soldier’s boots clicked quickly on the floor, and he sensed the young man on his left side.
“What is it?”
“The, uh, intruders. They’re still in the warehouse, but we believe they’re dead.”
Garza nodded. “Keep them there. And keep the Exo powered up. Any movement will be detected, and Beale’s crew will be thoroughly out of the picture.”
“Yessir.”
“And the other intruders?”
The kid paused, then abruptly launched into a recited security protocol. “We first detected the second group about four minutes after the first, and we’ve been tracking them since. They’re still in the top floor observation deck, but we believe they’ll make a move for the stairs, coming down the way they arrived.”
“That’s likely the only option they think they have. Are they armed?”
“We… uh, we don’t know, sir.”
“Well, find out.”
Garza leaned back in his computer chair and ran two hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. He felt as though he’d aged fifteen years in the past five. Lately, he’d even felt that his aging speed had tripled.
He felt distracted, on edge, and jittery. He’d only had two cups of coffee — one less than his usual — but he had a feeling he knew exactly why he was feeling this way.
“I know this man. Harvey Bennett. And his team. The Civilian Special Operations. They’ve been interfering with our work for a couple of years now, and it’s about time we handled it the way we should have back in Philadelphia.”
“Yessir.”
The soldier stood like a sentinel next to Garza. He was undoubtedly the kid who’d been ordered to keep Garza happy, the kid tasked with the unfortunate job of delivering whatever bad news his team had dug up.
It annoyed Garza that his men — trained killers, used to taking orders, most from a military background — were afraid of him. But he wasn’t the sort of man to sulk over things like that. He hadn’t started Ravenshadow to test his leadership and charisma. He wanted his men to appreciate him, but their loyalty to him ranked far higher on his list than their love for him.
“Son, what’s your name?”
There was a time in the early days when he’d known all of his men. He knew most of them by name, on paper, but he hardly recognized many of them now. His organization had doubled in size over the past two years, and he had nearly killed himself trying to maintain his rigorous standards for training and development.
Now, Ravenshadow Group, LLC. boasted nearly three-hundred men, all either in the process of training through his ‘gauntlet’ of onboarding exercises or ranked among his active paramilitary troops. Half of those men were still stateside, working on some of Garza’s existing contracts.
The rest, including this young man, were here.
“My name is Private Miller, sir.”
“Very well, Miller. Thank you for your report. If that is all, then I —”
“Actually, sir,” Miller said, his voice faltering. “There’s… something else.”
Garza cocked an eyebrow.
“Your, uh, buyer. The deal — in town?”
Garza nodded, silently urging the young soldier to spit it out. ‘In town,’ in this case, meant ‘Lima.’ While Lima was an hour-and-a-half flight from the nearest airport, it was the only other city in Peru that had any meaning to Garza, and therefore Ravenshadow. His men had all passed through Lima before landing in the region, so it had effectively been christened their ‘town.’
“What about it?”
“There’s been… a setback.”
Garza stiffened. His timetable was extremely tight. Delivery of his product needed to occur at precisely the right time or the deal would fall through. Any delay on either side would mean disaster.
And any disaster would cost Garza a lot of money.
“What kind of setback, Miller?”
“Well, sir, the buyer has been… asking questions.”
Garza shook his head. Idiots. I knew they should have handled this whole process differently. He despised politics, and only played the game when there was a major benefit to him. Even then, he wasn’t very good at it. This entire deal hinged on the other parties playing the politics game, and playing it well enough that the world would turn a blind eye to Garza and Ravenshadow.
The risk was great, but the reward was potentially the greatest.
Garza was rather risk-averse, but in this case, he’d placed his bet.
“What are they asking?”
“I, uh, am not entirely sure of the details of the transaction, sir,” Miller said. “Obviously. But I’m told they are hesitating.”
“To close the deal? The deal is all but done, we just needed an in-person meeting.”
“Right,” Miller said. “They’re just… getting cold feet.”
“Did they know about Beale’s team?”
Miller looked visibly shocked. “No, sir — of course not. We had no idea they were here until an hour ago.”
“Okay, fine.” Garza stood up, signaling that this meeting was over. Miller would have no more information that would be useful to him. The deal would close, with or without the ‘hesitant’ party. It was unfortunate, and it would change the nature of the political fallout that would be involved, but the deal would close. “Tell your team to activate. My orders. Three units on active patrol, the rest business as usual, but on high alert.”
“Yessir.”
“The CSO team is not as civilian as their name implies, Miller. I expect you to take that information back to your team as well.”
Miller frowned, and Garza could almost hear his thoughts. But there’s only four of them. And they have no military training as a unit.
“Miller,” he said, his voice dropping a few notes. “I mean it. This team is fully capable of taking out a quarter of our forces if they’re not prepared. They will not leave this mountain alive, but I intend to lose as few Ravenshadow men as possible.”
Miller nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”
Miller didn’t wait to be dismissed. He turned on a heel and left the room. Garza waited until he heard the soldier’s boots down the hallway, then he turned back to his computer.
42
Ben
“We need to get out of here,” Ben said. “Now.”
Reggie nodded, but Mrs. E and Julie seemed to be in a trance.
“Jules,” he said again. “Come on.”
Ben started walking toward the door when Julie stopped him. “Ben,” she said. “Wait.”
“We can’t afford to wait,” Reggie said. “We need to get out —”
“Get out how?” Julie shot back. “We’re not getting out the way we came in — there will be Ravenshadow guys crawling over that entrance tunnel by now. And there’s no way we’re getting through that ‘demonstration floor,’ or whatever Garza called it.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting you two guard the door, at least for a minute. Let me and Mrs. E see if we can get into the computer system.”
Ben sighed, but Julie didn’t wait for a response. She knows what she’s doing, he told himself. He walked to the door with Reggie, then dared a look down the hallway. Emp
ty.
“How long you think it’ll take?” Reggie asked Julie.
“To get through whatever encryption they have? No idea. But it’s not like we’re in danger of alerting them to our presence. We’re well past that.”
“Yeah,” Ben said, “which is why we need to get out of here. We’re sitting ducks in here, and —”
“Shut up and let me work,” she replied.
Ben watched the two women work as he and Reggie stood just inside the doorway of the stone-walled room. He felt the pressure of anxiety flooded his systems; the adrenaline building yet having nowhere to go. He’d tried to train himself to push those feelings away, but he knew they were chemical reactions — there was little he could do to bend them to his will besides exercising them out.
“Seems like they’ve got their deeper systems locked down tight,” Ben heard Julie saying to Mrs. E as the pair flicked around the computer station. “Password-protected, even retinal scan for some of these folders.”
“There,” he heard Mrs. E say. “We do not need a password for that file.”
Julie double-clicked on something and an enormous grid flashed onto the screens above the station. An image of a labyrinthine tunnel system, an artist’s rendition, appeared.
“It’s a map,” Julie said. “Of this place.”
She clicked again and the image shifted, seeming to fall sideways in 3D space and then collapse in on itself. “Looks like these are the levels,” she said. “The warehouse — demonstration floor — must be here, right in the middle. The old mine shafts cut through the spaces along the outer walls, but most of Garza’s newer excavation and construction is focused toward that central space.”
Ben and Reggie walked back over. Ben wanted to get a good look at things, to try to memorize the spaces and corridors. It was a tall order, but he hoped the four of them together could get a realistic impression of the interior of the mountain.
Especially its exit points.
“See any way out?” he asked.
Julie flicked the image back to the top-down view they’d seen before, and Ben now saw that there were four separate levels that made up the Ravenshadow base. The warehouse where they’d seen Beale’s team massacred took up a central space in the top three of them. The lowest level, labeled only by the letter “X,” stretched past the sides of the map and off the screen. Julie clicked on the level just above that, labeled “Level 1,” and then pointed to two long rectangular passageways that branched off from the central area.