NB219
8:42 PM MST
“WE EXPECT THINGS will pick up in the next few days,” the regional director for southern Asia said.
“You’re lagging, and that’s a problem,” Perez said. “A few days is a few days too many. It should be happening—”
The door to his office opened and Claudia hurried in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we need to end this call right now.”
“What’s going on?” Perez asked.
“You need to see this.”
The center screen went momentarily blank before another image appeared, of a woman standing in some kind of control room.
“This just started broadcasting,” Claudia said.
“What do you mean, broadcasting? Where?”
“North America for sure, haven’t heard about anywhere else yet. It’s knocked our message off the air.”
He stared at her. “What? How is that possible?”
“We don’t know, sir.” Claudia looked at the screen. “You should listen.”
She touched a key and the woman’s voice boomed from the speakers.
“…is his real name or not. But what I do know is that the United Nations doesn’t exist anymore, so there’s no way it could undertake a worldwide mission to save everyone. The survival stations you’ve heard about? Those are being run by the same people who set off the outbreak in the first place…”
“How long has this been playing?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I can tell it’s not a loop. She’s saying some of the things I first heard, but not quite in the same way. I think it must be live.”
“Has the cyber division been notified?”
“They’re the ones who told me.”
“And they can’t take her down?” he asked in disbelief.
“They’re trying, but they’re not sure if they can.”
“What about her location? Where is she broadcasting from?”
“Unknown at this point, but we’re working on that, too.”
“Is she also on radio?”
“Last check, no. Only TV.”
Perez looked at the woman on the screen again, his eyes narrowing. How much damage could she actually do? Would anyone listen to her? Was anyone even watching television anymore?
“Find out how widespread this is,” he ordered Claudia. “And the moment we figure out where this is coming from, get someone there to shut her down.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “What should we tell everyone? If they haven’t seen it already, they soon will.”
Many of the monitors throughout the facility had been tuned to the Di Sarsina message, so they would now be displaying the woman’s broadcast. Claudia was right. It would have to be addressed.
“Patch me into the general comm.”
“HEY, CLIFF. LOOK at this,” McCabe said to his colleague.
Cliff Eames swiveled his chair so he could look at the other security officer’s screen. On it was a camera feed from level three, specifically the area in front of the main elevator doors. Both sets of doors were currently shut. The display on the digital panel next to McCabe’s screen indicated both cars were up at the warehouse level, where McCabe and Eames were stationed. Standing to the left of the elevators, facing away from the screen, was a man in a gray security jumpsuit.
“Who is that?” McCabe asked.
Eames studied the man, but it was hard to tell much from the guy’s back. “I’m not sure. Jones?”
“That’s not Jones. Jones’s thinner.”
“What’s he doing?”
Both men watched the screen. From the movements of the man’s back and shoulders, and the occasional elbow sticking out to the side, they could tell he was busy at something.
“Got me,” McCabe said.
Eames knew there was probably a mundane answer to his question, but it was a quiet night—it was always a quiet night—and they didn’t have much else to do. “Back it up,” he said. “Let’s at least get a look at his face.”
McCabe pulled his keyboard out from under the monitor, accessed the menu, and reversed the feed to where the man walked into the picture. He pressed PLAY.
“I don’t know who the hell that is,” McCabe said.
“Me, either.”
Eames pointed at the screen. “Is he opening that?”
The man was carrying a duffel bag. As he reached the spot where they had originally seen him, he turned his back to the camera and began to unzip the bag, which was now blocked from view by the guy’s body.
“Go live,” Eames said.
McCabe switched back to a live shoot. “Dammit.”
The man was gone.
McCabe quickly reversed the video until they saw him leave.
“His bag looks lighter, doesn’t it?” McCabe said.
It did look lighter, but nothing obvious was left behind.
Eames rolled back to his own desk. “Find out where he went,” he said. He adjusted the microphone connected to his computer, and tapped into the security radio system. “Aldridge, this is Eames in monitoring. Proceed to level three, main elevators. Make it quick.”
THE BLACK PRIUS drove north out of Las Cruces with Ash in the front passenger seat, Hiller behind the wheel, and Chloe and Lin in the back.
Ash was holding the sat phone to his ear.
Two rings. “Can I help you?” a man said.
“This is Ash. Is Rachel there?”
“She’s right here, Captain. Hold on.”
A brief pause, then Rachel’s voice. “Ash, what’s going on? Have you found him?”
“He went to the base.”
“God, no.”
“We’re heading in that direction right now, but we don’t know exactly where it is.”
The line remained quiet.
“Rachel?”
“I’m sorry, what?” she said, clearly dazed.
“Rachel, we need your help. Where precisely is NB219?”
“NB219, um, right. Let me check.”
He could hear her asking someone for the base’s location.
When she came back on, she said, “We have a set of GPS coordinates. I’m not sure if they’re right, but they should be close. Is your GPS still working?”
“Last I checked,” he said. “Text the coordinates to me right now.”
MATT HURRIED DOWN the corridors, wanting to get back to the safety of the empty office as soon as possible. The placement of the plastic explosives had taken him longer than he’d wanted it to. One of the screws holding in place the plumbing-access panel near the elevators had proved stubborn and needed extra effort to remove. Once it was out of the way, though, stuffing the explosives into the available space had been easy.
He was two minutes from his hiding place when the speakers in the hallway emitted a reverberating bong…bong…bong.
After the last tone faded, a voice said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Principal Director Perez. I’m sure some of you have noticed that our televised message has been replaced.”
Matt unconsciously slowed his pace. Replaced?
“For those who have not, the new message is an attempt to warn people from traveling to one of our survival stations.”
It had to be Tamara and Bobby, Matt realized. They’d done it. They’d actually done it.
“This message is too little, too late, and, I’m confident, will prove to be ineffectual. We are, however, in the process of returning our own message to the air, and dealing with those who are trying to stop us. I ask that you continue with the excellent hard work you’ve all been doing. Soon we will be moving into our recovery phase and…”
Matt picked up his pace again.
To hell with the eleven p.m. meeting. This was his cue to act.
“EAMES, THIS IS Aldridge. I’m at the elevators. What is it I’m supposed to be doing here?”
Eames could see the man on his screen. He keyed his mic. “To the left of car one as you face the doors, see if there’s something on the ground or th
e wall there.”
“Uh, say again?”
“On the left. You’re looking for anything that looks unusual.”
“Unusual like what?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I need you to look.”
Aldridge walked over to area where the man with the duffel bag had been standing. After a few seconds, he said, “Nothing on the ground, and the wall looks…wait a minute.” He paused and leaned closer. “I don’t know if this is what you mean, but there’s a scratch on the surface right next to one of the screws. Looks turned recently.”
That had to be it, Eames thought.
“You have something you can open the panel with?” he asked.
“Yeah, I got something.”
Aldridge pulled a Leatherman multi-tool out of his back pocket and set to work. As with when the other man had been there, Eames’s view was blocked.
Less than thirty seconds later, Aldridge said, “Holy shit,” and moved quickly back from the wall.
Eames could see the panel was off, exposing an area with pipes running through. There was also something oddly shaped stuffed on the side.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“Somebody put explosives in there,” Aldridge said. “There’s a detonator sticking out of it.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m no bomb expert, but that’s what it looks like to me.”
“Close down that area! Don’t let anyone without authorization anywhere near there. I’m sending someone to take a look at it!”
“Okay,” Aldridge said, sounding like he’d very much like to get the hell out of there himself.
Eames looked over at McCabe. “Did you find him?”
“One second.” McCabe stared at his screen, and smiled. “Got him. He’s in an office. Section 23. Room, um, 3C. I’ll send someone in.”
“No,” Eames said. Who knew what this guy might have with him in there? There were people at the base better equipped than the security staff to handle this kind of situation. Eames put a call through to the barracks.
“SIR, WE HAVE a situation.”
Sims was standing in the common room, at the back of the small crowd that had been watching the broadcast the principal director had just told them about. Sims looked back to find Neal Duncan, one of his men, standing behind him. “What kind of situation?”
“Security’s on the line,” Duncan said. In his hand was the wireless phone servicing the room. “They’re reporting an intruder who has possibly placed some explosives near the main elevators.”
Sims whipped around. “Give me that.”
Duncan handed him the phone.
“Who is this?” Sims asked.
“Eames in security, sir.”
“What’s this about explosives?”
Eames gave him a quick rundown, ending with a request for assistance.
“Keep your people away from there,” Sims said. “We’ll take care of it.” He hung up and looked at Duncan. “Get the men, now!”
PRINCIPAL DIRECTOR PEREZ looked up from his desk as the door opened, and was surprised to see Claudia returning so soon after having left.
“Have they found her?” he asked.
“Uh, no, sir,” she said, her face gravely serious. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
MATT REMOVED THE final item from the duffel bag, pulled on the straps, but left the apparatus sitting on top of his head.
He removed the remote control and unlocked the screen.
WICKS HAD DISTRIBUTED nearly half the devices by the time the principal director made his announcement over the intercom. After Perez finished, Wicks—like Matt—knew everything had changed. All he wanted to do at that point was get rid of the remaining devices and get out of there, so he was considerably less cautious in his placements. As soon as the last one was gone from his briefcase, he headed for the elevator, but was stopped before he could get there by security.
“Sorry, this area’s off limits at the moment,” the guard said.
“What’s going on?” Wicks asked.
“Security matter, sir.”
Wicks knew it had something to do with Matt, but what? Had they caught him? If so, even more reason for Wicks to get out of there right away.
The only available exit now, though, was the emergency stairwell. He took a second to remember where the entrance was and then headed off, hoping he wasn’t already too late.
SIMS SPLIT HIS team into two groups. The first went to determine the nature of the explosive and whether it could be easily defused. The second—the group he took personal charge of—headed to section 23 to apprehend the intruder.
When they reached the correct hallway, they proceeded until they were four doors down from Room 3C.
Sims signaled one of his men to approach the door of 3C to determine if the intruder was still inside. The man moved down the corridor in a crouch and knelt by the door. After a moment, he held up his thumb and nodded.
MATT HEARD A noise just outside the office. It was faint, nothing more than a brush of cloth, but he knew what it meant.
It was okay. He was ready.
SIMS AND THE third man with him joined the scout at the door. Sims motioned for the others to get ready, then he grabbed the knob and threw the door open.
“Down on the floor! Down on the floor!” he yelled as he and his men rushed in.
The intruder was there, but not on the floor. He was sitting on the desk, a gas mask covering his face.
In a distorted voice, he said, “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re a little late.”
Sims took another step forward. “On the fl—”
“SORRY TO DISAPPOINT,” Matt said, “but you’re a little late.”
The one in charge took an angry step toward the desk. “On the fl—”
Matt pushed remote button number one.
The floor rocked as the explosives ripped apart the elevator shaft. The armed men staggered and looked back at the doorway as if they could see what had happened.
As they were turning back, Matt tossed the final plastic device on the floor at their feet, and pushed remote button number two.
There was no blast this time, no rocking floor, only the hiss of sarin gas releasing from the device. Throughout the facility, the other plastic boxes would be doing the same thing.
“On the floor, now!” the leader commanded.
Matt didn’t move.
“I said…on…the floor.”
All three men began to blink as the odorless gas reached them. One started coughing, and then another, and then the last. Guns were quickly forgotten as the men dropped to their knees.
Matt rose and stepped over to the leader.
“How does it feel? Dying?”
“Go to…” The man coughed. “Hell.”
“Maybe. You never know. You all, on the other hand, I think your tickets are punched.”
He waited until the leader fell all the way to the floor before searching the guy’s pockets and finding his ID badge.
“Let’s see, Mr.…” He looked at the badge. “Sims, Special Operations. Very nice. I’ll bet that gives you all kinds of interesting clearance.”
Matt picked up the man’s rifle and rose to his feet.
“Thank you, Mr. Sims. You’ve been a big help.”
He headed for the door.
ASH TILTED THE sat phone so he could look at the displayed map without snow falling on the screen.
“Should be right in front of us about a quarter mile,” he said.
If Project Eden’s base was anything like the one he and Chloe had broken into in Oregon, there would be a large, warehouse-type building at ground level. But the only thing in front of them at the moment was flat farmland covered in a light layer of snow.
“She didn’t guarantee it was accurate,” Chloe reminded him.
He huffed out a cloud of vapor and frowned. “We’ll drive on another mile or two. Maybe we can spot it.”
As he turned
toward the car, Chloe said, “Uh, Ash. You think that might be it?”
He looked back around. About a quarter mile past the coordinates’ location, the red glow of flames illuminated the clouds.
“That wasn’t there a moment ago,” he said.
“It just shot up,” she said.
“Matt.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Let’s go,” Ash said, already heading toward the car.
WICKS HAD JUST passed level two when the metal staircase began to shake so violently, he had to hang on with both arms to keep from falling off.
His friend had apparently decided there was no longer any time to wait.
As soon as the shaking decreased to a gentle tremor, Wicks started up again, worried that if there were a second blast, the stairs wouldn’t hold. When he opened the door on the warehouse level, he was greeted by a wall of hot air radiating from a growing fire toward the center.
Toward the elevators.
Thank God he hadn’t been able to take them. He likely would have been dead by now.
The warehouse supplies were feeding the blaze, creating a fire too big for the overhead sprinklers to tame.
The main exit was on the other side of the flames, so his only choice was to use the auxiliary exit again. He’d have to use his own card to open it this time, which meant that if the computer databases survived, there would be a record of him leaving the building long before anyone else had a chance to escape. His only alternative would be to stay. Not an attractive option.
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2 Page 52