—
As Bazin walked toward the exit of Sentinel’s underground complex, the natural limestone caves with all their imperfections and protrusions made an abrupt transition to the smooth, rounded walls of the man-made tunnels. He would never admit it to anyone but the threshold always made him breathe a bit easier. The maze of caves went on for miles, as far as anyone could tell. No one had taken the time to explore them fully once the Oz cave had been found, and Bazin didn’t relish the idea of getting lost in those dank confines.
Fluorescent lights buzzed at regular intervals through the tunnel. A massive electrical cable hung from the ceiling to provide power to the Sentinel telescope. The hydroelectric dam was the primary source, but it was so unreliable that it was supplemented by diesel generators, installed in one of the outbuildings, and by a battery backup inside the Oz cave itself that could run the telescope for more than two hours if all other power sources failed.
When he was close enough to the exit to receive a signal on his phone, which was routed through the Internet to make up for the nonexistent mobile service in the region, he dialed Kensit.
“Status,” was the one-word greeting to his call.
“The engineers tell me that there are no mechanical issues they can foresee for Sentinel.”
Although a large contingent of engineers and technicians had been trucked in to build Sentinel, only a few were retained on staff to maintain it. The rest were taken back out blindfolded, just as they had been brought in, with all paper and electronic records of their work left behind. Bazin knew that Kensit intended to use their skills again, but each of them was aware of only a small part of the design and none knew the software code used to operate the equipment. If they had known how it worked, Bazin would have hired them himself, killed Kensit, and taken over the operation long ago. Instead, he became Kensit’s loyal right-hand man.
Bazin could live with being the second-most-powerful man in the world. For now.
“What about power?” Kensit asked.
Bazin walked past the humming generators housed in the building where the tunnel began. “The diesel generators are fully fueled and the batteries are at full capacity. Everything will be running for the operation in the morning.”
“After that, we’re going to close it up.”
“How long will it take to get Sentinel Two up and running?”
“The tests yesterday were successful, so I’d say it will take less than three months, once we’ve dug an access tunnel to the new cave. We’ll bring all of the engineers back, but this time they’re going to stay permanently.”
“And diggers?”
“You did well with the Haitians. I’m sure you can find plenty of Mexicans to do the same. Remember, keep Sentinel safe until nine a.m. tomorrow. That’s when the intercept mission takes place.” Air Force Two would be almost directly overhead when the drones brought it down in the morning.
“What’s the latest about Juan Cabrillo’s plans?”
“He’s making it look like he’s going to launch a direct assault, but I think he’s going to try to sneak in.”
“How?”
There was a slight pause. “I don’t know. They unloaded a truck that looks like a big fuel transport. It’s got an oil company logo on the side. I’ll send you a photo so you know what to be on the lookout for.”
“Where are they now?”
“I’m keeping an eye on Juan Cabrillo and the Oregon, so I lost track of the truck. There are only four crew members inside. They can’t be a big threat.”
Bazin had to bite his tongue. Kensit’s reliance on his superpower made him overconfident. Bazin knew better than to underestimate an enemy, especially one like the crew of the Oregon, which had already outwitted him and his men.
“I will let you know when Cabrillo launches his assault. In the meantime, prepare your men and your defenses.”
“Yes, sir. I have my own surprises, thanks to your friend Admiral Ruiz.”
“I’ll send you any updates by text. I won’t call again until my drone attack begins.” Kensit hung up.
Bazin stopped at the next building. The thick walls were built with cement from the factory’s own output. He stepped inside to check on the two mercenaries who were standing guard in the vestibule. He put his face to the window and saw the pitiful forms of Duval and the rest of the diggers. Even through the cracks in the door, the place reeked from the stench of body odor and waste buckets that were scattered around the room. The men were in desperate shape, given the barest minimum of food and water needed for survival the past few days. Even Duval could do nothing more than glare at him. It was a look Bazin remembered well from their childhood whenever Duval didn’t like something his younger housemate had done.
Bazin nodded in satisfaction. The deprivation had served its purpose. The men were no longer a threat, but they wouldn’t die before they could be herded into the tunnels and sealed inside when Sentinel was blown up. The diggers who had made this first version of the neutrino telescope possible would perish with it.
Bazin had one more stop to make before gathering his team to go over the defense plans. He entered a large shed where cement mixers had driven inside to load their cargo. The mixers were long gone, replaced by four South African Ratel light armored vehicles, veterans of the war in Angola. They had been procured by Kensit, courtesy of Admiral Dayana Ruiz and her smuggling operation. Each of the six-wheeled vehicles was armed with a rapid-fire 20mm cannon and two 7.62mm machine guns.
Bazin had always thought his inaugural use of them would be when he rode into Port-au-Prince to take command of the government in his planned coup d’état. Now he’d get to test them in action against Juan Cabrillo and his crew if they were bold enough to attempt an attack, and he was looking forward to seeing how much damage the armor-piercing rounds could dish out.
He grinned at the thought of Cabrillo staring down the barrel of the cannon just as he pulled the trigger.
—
All Kensit needed was some popcorn. Sitting at his viewing station was like watching the most open-ended and unpredictable reality TV show ever made. And if it got boring, he could change the channel. Right now, he was tuned in to his favorite program, The Juan Cabrillo Show.
Cabrillo was currently in his boardroom talking with four of his men, Eddie Seng, Franklin Lincoln, Mike Trono, and Gomez Adams. The captain’s efforts to thwart him were truly inspired, but they would ultimately come to naught since Kensit could simply watch their discussions and movements in real time.
“We’ll take off in the chopper a half an hour before mission go time,” Cabrillo said.
“I’ll be ready,” said Adams, the helicopter pilot. His dashing looks added to the sense that Kensit was watching a TV series, albeit one with an unlimited budget.
“Eddie, get us kitted out like we were for the Argentina incursion.” They’d been speaking in this vernacular, referencing old missions, ever since they’d learned about the neutrino telescope. Kensit wished he could delve into them, but all remote access to the Oregon’s database had been locked out. Sentinel was unable to view computer code.
“I’ve got the techs working on putting our gear together,” Seng said. “I’ll get down there once we’re finished with the briefing.”
“Good,” Cabrillo said. “We’ll keep this op simple. I’ll tell Gomez where we’re going to land when we get close to the target. We’ll split up and attempt our infiltration of the cement plant in two teams, Eddie and Linc on one and me and Trono on the other. Linda’s team will be feeding us recon intel upon landing.”
Kensit had already checked their radios, but they were using hardware encryption based on frequency-hopping algorithms, so Bazin wouldn’t be able to listen in on their conversations without his help.
“Once we’ve captured Kensit and the neutrino telescope, we’ll shut it down until we can figure out what to do with it.�
�
Kensit smiled at that. Cabrillo had no clue that Kensit was hundreds of miles away.
Cabrillo scanned his team. “Any questions?”
“Seems pretty straightforward to me,” Lincoln said.
Trono nodded. “No problemo.”
Kensit admired the offhanded way in which they were all going to their doom.
“All right,” Cabrillo said. “It’s 2100 hours. We should be on-station in the Bahia de Grand Pierre in an hour. Make sure you get a few hours of sleep after you’ve prepared your equipment.”
They all nodded. Kensit checked his map and saw that the Bahia de Grand Pierre was an isolated bay on the west coast of Haiti. It was well chosen. Cabrillo could launch his helicopter in daylight without being seen, and it was just fifty miles from the cement plant, about twenty minutes of flying time.
The men filed out, but Cabrillo stayed behind, studying the table as if he were contemplating a difficult decision. Then he looked up and stared right at Kensit as though he knew where the camera was.
“Lawrence Kensit,” Cabrillo said, “I have something to say to you.”
Uncharacteristically for him, Kensit was startled. He should have expected the direct address, but it was eerie all the same.
“I don’t know if you’re watching and listening to me,” Cabrillo continued. “I may be talking to myself, but if you’re out there, you should know something.”
The surprise gone, Kensit leaned forward in his chair. The connection between the two of them was almost palpable.
Cabrillo’s expression radiated malice, like a circus tiger prodded one too many times. The penetrating intensity shooting through the telescope chilled Kensit’s blood.
“I’ll only say this once,” Cabrillo said, “and then you’ll never hear me talk to you again. You may think you’re a genius, Kensit, but you’re not infallible. You made a huge mistake when you went after my crew. They’re my family. Maybe a loner like you doesn’t understand the importance of family, but your attacks made the situation between you and me personal. I don’t care what advantages you think you have, I promise that I will find you. And when I do, you’ll discover that my retribution is swift and mighty.” Cabrillo stood and grinned. “Spend this night well, Kensit. It just might be your last.”
Cabrillo chuckled as he walked out of the room. “That was even more fun than I thought it would be.”
But Kensit wasn’t laughing. Try as he might to take Cabrillo’s words as nothing more than tough talk, for the first time since he began to develop Sentinel Kensit actually felt uneasy.
The first shimmer of dawn peeked above the hills now denuded of the thick forest that Linda had seen in Gunther Lutzen’s photos of the area in 1902. The vegetation that had sprung up in its place was a thicket of small trees and bushes that covered the gullies and ridges around Lake Péligre.
From their prone position on a rocky outcrop, she and Eric had a clear view of the cement plant five hundred yards to the east where it abutted the coastline. There was virtually no breeze to ruffle the water reflecting the scattered clouds being illuminated by the morning sun.
They had left the PIG a mile away and hiked to this spot through uninhabited country. Linda scanned the vista with a pair of Steiner 20×80 military-grade binoculars. There was enough light now for her to see the gravel road coming in from the west and paralleling the power lines from the nearby hydroelectric dam. She could make out several men on security detail and others walking between buildings.
“What’s the force projection?” Eric asked.
“I count at least ten so far, but those buildings are big enough to house a regiment. How is the PIG looking?”
Eric tapped on his control pad, then looked at his watch. “Everything checks out, but I can’t drive and operate the weapons systems simultaneously. If Hali and MacD don’t get back soon, you’re going to have to switch between observing the factory and firing the weapons.”
A bush rustled behind them, momentarily sending Linda’s heart rate into the stratosphere. She whipped around, bringing her assault rifle to bear.
“Our ears were burning,” MacD said. Hali was right behind him.
Linda lowered her weapon. “Did you get the package set?”
MacD took up position next to her with a Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle. “We put it where no one will spot it even if they’re standing on it.”
“The tracker is activated,” Hali said as he lay down. “The Chairman shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”
“From down there,” MacD said, “this ridge looked almost like it did in Lutzen’s picture. Except for the whole clear-cutting thing.”
“Without any other fuel source, the residents have stripped the forests bare for firewood,” Linda said. “With few trees to hold the soil, the lake is filling up with silt and causing the dam to lose power.”
“Looks like they have plenty left over to light up that cement factory.”
“And power the neutrino telescope,” Eric added. He swept the area with the thermal scope. “I’m picking up excessive heat signatures pluming off that building next to the dome.”
Linda raised the binoculars and saw what he was talking about. In the growing light, she could see crude vents cut out of the roof.
“That must be where the diesel backups are. They wouldn’t be depending solely on the power from the dam, not when it’s so spotty. According to the CIA, the turbines can go down for hours at a time.”
“So that’s target number two?” Hali asked.
“Yes.” Linda looked at her watch. Seven a.m. on the dot.
She lifted the radio to her mouth. “Dragonfly, this is Groundhog. What’s your position?”
“Dragonfly here, Groundhog,” came the Chairman’s reply over the sound of the MD 520N’s pounding rotors. “We are right on schedule. The mission is a go.”
“Copy that, Dragonfly. The package has been delivered.”
“Understood. If you haven’t heard from us in forty minutes after landing, abort the mission.”
Not only was that a lot of time to keep Bazin and his mercenaries occupied but the Chairman’s margin of error for his part of the mission was razor thin. Linda glanced at her team. MacD actually shook his head. She shared the sentiment, but she was also an officer. “Acknowledged, Dragonfly.” It was bad luck in the Corporation to wish someone good luck, so Linda signed off by saying, “Happy hunting. Out.”
“Okay, Eric,” she said, “start the fireworks.”
He nodded to Hali, who had his own control pad and screen at the ready. Eric pushed the stick forward and the camera showing the view from the front of the PIG slewed around until it was aimed dead center at one of the power line poles.
“Fire one,” Hali said, and tapped on the control pad.
A rocket shot out from the PIG’s launcher and blew the pole apart. The lines came down in a shower of sparks. The boom followed a few seconds later.
“And the light switch turns off,” Hali said.
Linda trained the binoculars on the cement plant. The lights flickered off for a moment and then came back on. The few mercenaries who were visible milled around in confusion.
“Proceed to next target,” Linda said.
Eric jammed the stick forward and the PIG’s 800 horses propelled the truck at breakneck speed. Linda shifted her view to the road and spotted the PIG emerging from behind the hill.
“I’ve got target lock,” Hali said.
“Fire,” Linda ordered.
Two mortars were fired up through the PIG’s roof opening. They flew in an invisible arc until they came down on the building housing the diesel generators. The fuel tanks must have been inside the building as well because the initial blast of the mortars was dwarfed by the explosion that followed.
The lights went out for good.
Mercenaries wer
e racing in all directions looking for their attackers. It didn’t even look like controlled chaos. Just chaos.
As the fire raged, Linda could make out the approaching throb of helicopter blades. The MD 520N swooped along the lake just above the surface.
When it was a few hundred yards from its landing spot, Linda said, “Launch at target three.”
“Switching to smoke,” Hali replied as his fingers danced across the control pad. “Firing.”
Three more mortars thumped from the launcher, this time flying next to the plant to land on the side closest to the lake. They landed right on target and began pumping out dense white smoke.
Linda was impressed. Despite being put together using code on the fly, the mission actually seemed to be going according to plan. They had provided the perfect distraction, and now Bazin’s men would retreat to a defensive posture, waiting for an attack that wouldn’t be coming.
She switched her view back to the cement plant, where movement at one of the buildings caught her eye. When she saw what emerged from inside, she knew the mission was not going to continue as planned.
She quickly spoke into the radio. “Be advised, Dragonfly, Bazin’s got infantry-fighting vehicles and they’re armed with twenty-millimeter cannons.”
“Thanks for the update, Groundhog. Now tell us the bad news.”
“One of them is headed your way.”
—
Cans of Red Bull were scattered at Kensit’s feet, and the only time he’d gotten up from his seat in the last twenty hours was to open the door when one of Bazin’s men, who served as the yacht’s crew, brought him his next meal. Luckily, he had plenty of empty water bottles to make trips to the head unnecessary.
The drone jets had already taken off from Tyndall Air Force Base in Florida and were winging across the Everglades, six unmanned QF-16s escorted by two F-15 manned fighters armed with air-to-air missiles. Kensit hadn’t taken control of them yet, but the feed he was getting from the fighters’ navigation systems on his computer showed him exactly where they were at any point in time, so he didn’t need to use Sentinel.
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