The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2

by Brett Battles

  He turned his ear toward the other area but could hear no voices.

  Facing the tarped enclosure once more, he cupped his hands around his mouth and said, “Martina?” Even as her name left his lips, he knew he wasn’t speaking loudly enough. He tried it again, raising his volume a bit. “Martina?”

  No response.

  “Martina?” he said, louder.

  Nothing at all.

  He was tempted to shout, but didn’t know how the guards would react if they heard him. Until he discovered otherwise, drawing attention to himself didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “Martina,” he said one last time.

  Silence.

  Sixteen

  WARD MOUNTAIN NORTH, NEVADA

  5:19 PM PST

  CALEB’S FIRST ATTEMPT to remotely control the equipment at the abandoned Mumbai survival station failed miserably.

  “Son of a…” He looked back at Jesse, Devin, and Mya. “What the hell did you forget?”

  “We didn’t forget anything,” Devin said.

  “Well, that’s obviously not true or it would be working, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe you messed up the schematic,” Jesse said.

  Caleb leveled his gaze at him. “Not possible.”

  “Who’s got it?” Mya asked. “Let me see it again.”

  Devin retrieved the plans Caleb had sketched out and gave them to her.

  She looked at it, following lines with her finger. She moved over to the equipment rack they’d put together and glanced from the paper to the actual item and back.

  “Looks good to me,” she said, holding out the paper to Caleb.

  “Of course it does,” he said, snatching it from her, sounding more confident than he felt.

  “Must be on Arjun’s end,” Jesse said.

  The Mumbai side of things was the weak link, Caleb knew. Unfortunately, he’d only been able to talk the Indian man through what to do and couldn’t see the work.

  Caleb opened the phone application, switched on the external speaker, and dialed.

  “We’re having a problem,” he said once Arjun was on the line.

  “What type of problem?” Arjun asked.

  “I’m not able to connect into the system there. I’m going to have Jesse talk you—”

  “One moment, please,” Arjun said. “Are you saying you tried already?”

  “Well, yeah,” Caleb said.

  “The computer would then have to be on, yes?”

  Caleb groaned and looked up at the trailer’s ceiling. “Yes, of course. Are you saying it’s not?”

  “Naturally.”

  Caleb could feel his frustration surge, but before he could say anything, Arjun spoke again.

  “You were the one who told me to leave it off until you gave me the go-ahead. You have not done this yet.”

  A laugh burst out of Devin, while Mya slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to contain her amusement.

  “Oops,” Jesse said.

  “I am sorry,” Arjun said. “I do not think I heard that correctly.”

  “It was nothing,” Caleb said quickly. “I want you to go ahead and switch on the computer.”

  “Stand by, please.”

  “Nice one,” Devin whispered, holding out his hand like he wanted to give Caleb a fist bump.

  Caleb glared at him. “Fine. I’m not perfect.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mya said. “I don’t think we heard that correctly. Can you repeat that?”

  “Go to hell. All of you.” He turned back to his terminal.

  A few moments later, Arjun said, “The computer is cycling up, and…there we go. It is on and asking for a password.”

  “All right. Let’s see if this thing’s working.” Caleb reinitiated the link between the systems.

  Three seconds passed, then the message on his screen changed from ESTABLISHING CONNECTION to CONNECTION SUCCESSFUL.

  Caleb and his team shouted in triumph.

  “The password box has disappeared,” Arjun said. “Does that mean it is working now?”

  “Damn straight, it does,” Caleb said. “Great job, Arjun. Thank you. I’m going to hang up, but I need you to keep your phone with you in case anything comes up.”

  “If I do not answer, Darshana or Sanjay will.”

  “Sanjay’s there now?”

  “He will be soon. He wanted to see for himself.”

  CALEB SPENT THE next hour familiarizing himself with the Project Eden operating system. When he finally felt he had a handle on things, he decided to see what else was out there.

  “They’re definitely using encrypted voice transmission and e-mails. Looks like there are also some password-protected document-sharing sites.” He hunted through the code a bit more. “Oh, looks like they use a lot of video transmissions, too. There appears to be several conversations going on right now. Let’s see if we can eavesdrop on one, shall we?”

  He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he attempted to gain access to the video feed. He managed to break in, but the image was far too scrambled for him to make anything out, and the audio was nothing more than pops and electronic echoes that were impossible to decipher.

  “Let me take a look at that,” Devin said.

  While Caleb thought highly of his own skills, he was well aware there were people far better at certain tasks than he. When it came to hacking through scrambled signals, few on the planet—even when there had still been seven billion others around—were better than Devin.

  Caleb scooted out of the seat and Devin moved in.

  After studying the signal for nearly a minute, Devin looked back at Mya. “Can you get me my laptop? My backpack’s over by the door.”

  When she returned with it, he launched a program that looked a lot like a recording studio audio board, and then used the Bluetooth function to sync with Caleb’s machine. As he adjusted the sliding levers on the laptop, the video image began to come into focus.

  There were two images side by side. A graying man with a mustache on the right and another man, perhaps ten years younger, on the left.

  “That’s good enough for the video right now,” Caleb said. “Try fixing the audio.”

  Devin changed a setting at the top of the laptop screen and manipulated the sliders again. At first there was little change, but then sounds much more human than the digital noise from before began to seep out. Finally—

  “…tons per hundred,” the older man said.

  “That syncs with what I have here,” the younger one replied. “Column B?”

  “Second quarter. Four hundred thirty-five metric tons per hundred. Eighty-two-point-seven-five metric tons per hundred. Nine hundred twenty-three-point-two-five metric tons per hundred. Four hundred seventy-one—”

  “Sounds like someone’s doing inventory,” Mya said.

  “Let’s check some of the other signals,” Caleb said.

  They eavesdropped on several other equally boring conversations for thirty minutes before hitting on one that sounded more interesting. It was between an older, distinguished-looking woman and a young, well-coiffed man.

  “What is that?” Mya asked. “German?”

  “Dutch, I think,” Jesse said.

  “Do you understand it?” Caleb asked.

  Jesse shook his head.

  “Do any of you?”

  More shakes.

  To Caleb, this conversation sounded more important than a discussion about how many sacks of flour were sitting in a particular warehouse.

  “We are recording this, right?” Caleb asked.

  “Every second,” Devin said.

  The conversation went on for another three minutes, then both parties signed off and the signal ended.

  Caleb thought for a moment before turning to Mya. “Think you can find someone who can translate that?”

  “I can try. Devin, put a copy in my dropbox.”

  “Will do.”

  As soon as Mya left, Caleb said, “All right. Let’s see what else
we can find.”

  MYA THOUGHT IF anyone knew about a Dutch speaker among the Resistance at Ward Mountain, it would be Crystal, and, sure enough, she did. There were two Dutch speakers at the base—a German man named Jans Stephan who also spoke Dutch, and a Belgian named Ilse Vanduffel who spoke Flemish, which, according to Crystal, was a Dutch dialect.

  Mya decided to seek out Ilse since she would be the native speaker. The woman was part of the Resistance’s security forces. Mya tracked her down in one of the workout rooms, where hand-to-hand combat training was taking place. When Mya entered, those inside stopped what they were doing and looked over at her.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I’m looking for Ilse Vanduffel.”

  A tall, lean, muscular woman with short brown hair broke from the crowd. “I’m Ilse.”

  “I have a translation job I need your help with.”

  Ilse looked a bit put out. “Is it urgent?”

  “Very.” Mya wasn’t sure she had the authority to make that call, but what the hell?

  After a nod from the man who appeared to be in charge, Ilse said, “What is it I can help you with?”

  THEY FOUND A computer in an unoccupied office down the hall from the workout room. Mya accessed her internal network dropbox and opened the video.

  “What is this?” Ilse asked before Mya hit PLAY.

  “A video call between two Project Eden members.”

  Ilse’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  Mya clicked the arrow to start the video. She had expected Ilse to start telling her what was being said, but the woman silently watched the entire conversation, her expression unchanged throughout.

  When it was finished, Mya said, “Well? It is Dutch, isn’t it? You understood it?”

  Ilse continued to look at the screen for a few more seconds before she looked over. “I understood it.” She wet her lips. “Where is Captain Ash?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Somewhere around.

  “We need to find him.”

  SINCE CALEB WOULD want to know what was going on, Mya decided they would gather back in the communications trailer. She sent Ilse ahead and went in search of Captain Ash, finding him at a back table in the cafeteria, hunched over a couple of open books with Chloe. When Mya explained the situation, they both came with her.

  “Finally!” Caleb said as Mya, Ash, and Chloe entered. He gestured toward Ilse, who was sitting on a chair against the trailer wall. “Will you tell this woman it’s okay to share with us what she knows?”

  “Your charm didn’t work on her?” Mya asked, smirking.

  “All she said was that she’d come to tell us what the message meant, and then she promptly sat down and shut up.”

  “She told me Captain Ash should hear it, too.”

  Caleb spread his hands, palms up. “And telling a story twice has never happened in the whole history of mankind?”

  “Cool it,” Ash said. “I’m here now, so we can get on with it.”

  “Ilse,” Mya said. “Go ahead.”

  Ilse stood up. “Can we play the message here?”

  Mya shot a look across the room. “Devin?”

  “Two seconds.”

  The trailer had no large screen like in the comm room, but there was a medium-sized HD monitor at the empty station next to where Devin was sitting. Within seconds, it filled with a still image of the recorded video conversation.

  Before Devin could click PLAY, Ilse said, “One moment.” She walked over to the screen and pointed. “This man is Dutch. If I have to guess, I would say he was from Amsterdam or very nearby. The woman refers to him as van Assen. That would be his surname. She never says his entire name. The woman is not Dutch nor is she Flemish. While she speaks Dutch very well, it is not her native language. By her accent, I would say she is possibly English, but more likely American or Canadian.”

  “Is her name mentioned?” Ash asked.

  “He calls her only Director.” She looked at Devin. “Please start.”

  As the video played, Ilse gave a running translation.

  DIRECTOR: …as you promise.

  VAN ASSEN: So my file?

  DIRECTOR: Contains a commendation for your work in Mumbai, and clears you of any responsibility for what occurred.

  VAN ASSEN: I very much appreciate that, Director. Thank you.

  DIRECTOR: You earned it, so no need for any thanks.

  VAN ASSEN: My new assignment starts in a few hours, so I won’t bother you any longer.

  DIRECTOR: There has been a change of plans.

  VAN ASSEN: Change?

  DIRECTOR: You will not be joining the transition division in Madrid.

  VAN ASSEN: I won’t? Then where do I report?

  DIRECTOR: You will be reporting directly to me.

  VAN ASSEN: Oh. Thank you, Director. I’m honored. I will arrange transportation and can be there as early as tomorrow.

  DIRECTOR: Hold on. You will be reporting to me, but you will not be coming here. I’m sending you back to India.

  VAN ASSEN: What?

  DIRECTOR: There is a new…structure in place. One I am part of. But if I am going to do my job effectively, I need to keep an eye on my colleagues. You will be my eyes in Jaipur. You are to proceed to NB551, where you will fill an opening on Director Parkash Mahajan’s staff. While you carry out your daily duties for the director, you will keep me informed on the director’s activities. I assume this is not outside your abilities.”

  VAN ASSEN: Not at all, Director. It would be an honor to serve you.

  DIRECTOR: Then I would say you have a very bright future in the Project.

  “YOU CAN STOP now,” Ilse said.

  As the image paused, Ash said, “Is there more?”

  “They talk for another few minutes. Details that I can translate and write down, but the main focus of the conversation ends here.”

  Ash looked back at the screen. Director was a term used at many different levels within Project Eden—department directors, facility directors, division directors, to name a few. The woman could have been any of these. But from the way she and this van Assen were talking, and the scant description of Director Mahajan, Ash had the sense the woman was much higher up in the organization. Wanting to keep tabs on another director not stationed anywhere near where she was could mean her position was right near the top, if not within the innermost circle itself.

  Since the death of the previous principal director in the destruction of NB219, Project Eden would have quickly moved to fill the leadership vacuum. But without access to Matt’s contacts within the Project, the Resistance had yet to learn who or what filled that vacuum. Was this conversation a clue to that?

  Ash looked over at Mya. “Can we bring up our database in here? I want to see what we have on this Parkash Mahajan.”

  She scanned the room, but before she could answer, Devin said, “I can bring it up on my laptop.”

  “Do it.”

  Less than a minute later, Ash, Chloe, and the others were huddled behind Devin. On the computer screen was the Resistance’s information sheet on Parkash Mahajan. There weren’t as many details as Ash would have liked, but enough to show Mahajan was indeed high up within the Project Eden leadership structure. The most recent information listed him as possible regional director of Southern and Southeast Asia.

  “If he’s a regional director, then the woman must be at least that level, too,” Ash said. “Is there a way to bring up a list of other presumed regional directors?”

  “Let me see,” Devin said.

  He ended up having to cobble it together, so it took him a few minutes, but when he finished, he had a list of eleven names.

  “That can’t be all of them,” Chloe said.

  “It isn’t,” Devin said. “But it’s as complete as I can get.”

  There were several regions not listed but must have had directors: western Africa, the Middle East through the area around the Black Sea, Northern Europe, Australia and N
ew Zealand, and the Pacific Islands area, though the last may have been covered in full or in part by the western South America director or the East Asia director.

  Ash scanned the list and zeroed in on two names—Marlene Lee, who was thought to be in charge of the southern Africa region, and Celeste Johnson, in charge of the eastern half of North America. Both were names that could have easily been found in the States.

  “Are there any photos of these people?” he asked.

  “I doubt it,” Devin said.

  “Can you check? I’m interested in Marlene Lee and Celeste Johnson.”

  Devin set up the search, then shook his head. “Nothing on Celeste Johnson.” He switched the parameters to Marlene Lee and studied the results. “This might be something.” He clicked on the link.

  Ash stared, surprised, when the picture appeared on the screen. It was a candid shot of a group coming out of what appeared to be a conference room. Most of those in the image were men Ash had seen before, though they were not as old as when he had been in their presence.

  “The pre-flu directorate,” he said.

  He could feel Chloe tensing next to him, and knew she recognized the men, too. These were some of the Project Eden leaders who had died at Bluebird, the Project’s base on Yanok Island, from where the pandemic had been initiated.

  Devin pointed at the screen. “According to the photo tag, that’s Marlene Lee.”

  The woman he indicated was half turned away from the camera, and mostly blocked from view by the others. But there was enough detail to see she was Asian, not Caucasian like the woman on the video call.

  “All right. At least we know the woman’s not Marlene Lee,” Chloe said.

  “Doesn’t tell us if she’s Celeste Johnson, though,” Devin said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Ash said. “But I’m willing to bet it’s her. Do we have a location on Ms. Johnson?”

  Devin checked the database and shook his head. “It says here that she is probably located at one of the Project’s facilities on the East Coast, but it doesn’t say which one.”