Mosaic (Breakthrough Book 5)

by Michael C. Grumley

  M0ngol nodded. “We have seen that before.” He began typing, changing the parameters of his program.

  “So, you have broken into our systems before.”

  M0ngol shrugged apprehensively. “Sorry.”

  “Well, I’m sure no one’s going to be surprised.” Borger sighed as the diagram changed and new sections of a larger network began to appear, each indicated with a symbol representing fiber optic lines. After several appeared, both men noticed one network attached via multiple fiber optic lines routed through different systems.

  “What’s that?”

  M0ngol zoomed in. “This looks stronger.”

  Borger grinned. “Not just stronger. Reinforced.” He quickly leaned back, checking the satellite image, then his watch. “Okay,” he said. “I think we have our network. Time to earn your keep, kid.”

  124

  Debra Borssen shook her head. “I don’t see it.”

  The giant frame of the Anvil stood next to her, silently peering through the same thick glass window at the still figure of James Seever. Sleeping calmly beneath a sheet and blanket, the test subject’s chest rising and falling rhythmically.

  “He doesn’t look special to me.”

  Anvil gave a barely perceptible shrug.

  “That’s what all this is for…him?”

  “No one else survives the changes.”

  This time Borssen shrugged. “Have you tried?”

  He shook his head. Then raised his eyebrow at her.

  Borssen shook hers as well. “No one else wants to.” She continued staring through the glass. “I knew one of the men who did. One of the few to actually volunteer.” She inhaled and then sighed. “He was tough…really tough. And died horribly.”

  “A friend?”

  Her gaze drifted from Seever in the other room to Anvil’s reflection directly in front of her. His expression was like stone, with deep grooves running down his tanned face. His brow appeared heavy, almost brooding, but not quite. “He didn’t die right away,” she said. “It took several days. Enough for him to suffer.”

  Anvil said nothing.

  “And do you know what he told me?” she asked. “Before he died?”

  The huge man shook his head.

  “He said he’d finally made peace with it. Because he knew he had it coming.”

  Anvil turned and met the woman’s eyes.

  “That’s irony for you. For us. Giving up so much. So godawful much, to do what no one else is willing to. All for an endgame we’ll never live to see. And knowing that if we’re successful, no one will even know. Or care. Then finally dying, still riddled with guilt.” Her eyes grew cold. “How’s that for a job description?”

  After a long silence, both focused back on the still figure, and the Anvil replied, “Your ideology is something I don’t share.”

  “I know. You just like the enjoyment of it.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he returned the conversation to Seever. “You don’t like him.”

  “No.”

  “You know him?”

  She nodded. “Not well, but enough.” Enough, she mused, to hate the thought of him being the one who would make or break their entire operation.

  125

  From the first bus, Caesare spotted the entrance to the base just moments before Clay.

  Still over a mile out, the outline of the first towering gray fence was unmistakable. Like a metal fabric running along the southwest border of the Dugway installation. And it appeared even darker in the distance at the section where the fence angled, doubling back ninety degrees to the northeast.

  Several buildings shone brightly from within, towering above the fence and reflecting the early morning sun. Above them, the rest of the desert basin stretched almost endlessly, eventually reaching a distant ridge comprised of red and orange mountains. For a moment, Caesare thought he spotted a faint mirage shimmering up from the desert floor.

  The temperature was already increasing under the morning sun which gave both Clay and Caesare a fleeting sense of optimism. Hot weather made most people irritable. And impatient. Even those accustomed to the heat, or those working indoors, were still more often susceptible to irritation and distraction.

  It wasn’t much, but Clay and Caesare would take any advantage they could find, no matter how slight. Negligence from perfect routine, boredom, or weather were all exploitable forms of leverage under the right circumstances. Even small advantages could make a difference, and possibly influence luck itself. Something both men believed in adamantly.

  But admittedly, neither Clay nor Caesare was feeling particularly lucky now. Or even remotely confident. Instead, all they could think about were the variables. How many security personnel were protecting the installation? What level of training did they have, and what experience? Where on the base were Neely and Li Na? Would they be able to reach them? And just how deep into the systems had Will Borger and their new Chinese friend managed to burrow?

  One of the core tenets of Navy SEALs was the importance of controlling as many variables as possible, in any given situation. To leave as little to chance as humanly possible. Because if one’s survival fell to chance, it did not always matter how strong or tough they were. Or even what skills they had.

  If there was one thing Clay and Caesare had seen firsthand, time and time again, it was how utterly ruthless luck could be in its indifference.

  Now rocking somberly in their seats, Clay and Caesare both knew they were not in control of much at all.

  ***

  Borger and M0ngol repeatedly snuck a peek at the satellite view as all four buses approached the entrance to Dugway. Both seemed to be typing faster than ever, studying screen after screen of data.

  They were almost out of time, having only minutes now to locate Neely and Li Na before it was too late.

  “Jesus,” Borger growled. His fingers in a blur, he typed again and waited for the response. Finding another list of live video cameras in yet another building, he connected to a number of them and displayed their video feeds in a grid of sixteen frames covering his screen.

  Each frame displayed different floors from various angles. Mounted at ceiling level, all the cameras tilted downward at the same pitch.

  Many feeds showed white empty hallways with only an occasional person passing beneath. Others were in large rooms, appearing to be conference or research areas with small groups of people clustered together.

  He closed the video windows and opened another set. “Anything?!”

  “No.” M0ngol shook his head. There was nothing in any of the communication logs he’d found. No mention of either woman’s name, first or last.

  Come on already!

  Borger suddenly stopped. “What about medical records?” he said. “This is a research facility. They have to have loads of documentation.”

  M0ngol nodded without looking up. “I will try to find.”

  The older Borger turned back and examined another group of video feeds. More of the same. More floors. More rooms. Geez, the place was big. And almost all underground.

  Yet another set of video feeds. Still nothing. He could feel his blood pressure rising when he was suddenly taken aback with a terrible thought. Would he even recognize the women? In their haste, Borger failed to consider the possibility that the women might not appear as he was expecting. Were they given new clothes? Or cleaned up differently? Would he even recognize their faces?

  A sick feeling began to spread through his gut as Borger moved to the list of videos in another building. He’d been moving so fast from frame to frame…what if he’d already seen the women but not recognized them? He glanced at the satellite feed again. One by one, the buses now slowly inched through the main gate.

  ***

  Li Na leaned against the wall, peering nervously at Neely through a sidelong stare.

  “Are you still feeling it?” Neely whispered.

  Li Na nodded.

  “And you’re sure?”

  The
teenager nodded again. “Something is happening.”

  Li Na’s eyes moved from Neely back to the ceiling where the small black camera lens hung, clearly visible. Her nod was barely perceptible.

  Neely kept her back to both the door and camera while she continued mouthing words. “But you don’t know what?”

  Li Na shook her head.

  “Do you know when?”

  “Soon.”

  Neely frowned.

  “How soon?”

  “Very soon.”

  Neely thought for a moment. “Are we in danger?”

  This time Li Na nodded.

  Shoot. Neely took a deep breath. She believed the girl. She didn’t know why, but she did. If animals could sense impending danger, could Li Na be doing the same? It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility given the changes her body was undergoing.

  Even if she were wrong, it wouldn’t hurt for Neely to be ready. For anything. Whether it was now or later, she was going to have to find a way out for both of them. Before Talbot and her team decided to dissect Li Na.

  The thought turned Neely’s stomach. She was not going to let them hurt this innocent girl. No matter what.

  With that, she softly began turning her head, seeking out anything in the small room…that could be used as a weapon.

  Everything was white. The chairs, the table, the bed and linens, even the tiny bathroom with little more than a toilet and sink. Everything. All in an attempt to induce subconscious stress. Neely inhaled and stopped to think. There was no free lunch. Everything had pros and cons. A yin for every yang. A vulnerability for every strength.

  So, what was the vulnerability in whitewashing the room? Removing any uniqueness for the eyes to focus on. Any color. Any depth. So it all looked the same.

  So it all looked the same. She repeated the phrase to herself. Her eyes scanned again, this time trying to observe the room from a different perspective. She saw the walls, then the bed Li Na was sitting on. And finally, the stark white floor beneath her own feet.

  So it all looked the same.

  ***

  Borger gasped.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  He stared intently at a small window on his screen, studying two women in a room with a bed. One was looking up at the camera, although the other had turned away. The one on the bed looked like a teenage girl. And she looked Asian.

  But he couldn’t be sure.

  “M0ngol!” he blurted, grasping a shoulder and nearly pulling the younger man from his chair. “LOOK!”

  M0ngol tumbled onto a knee before looking fervently at the screen.

  “Is that her?”

  The hacker stared for a long moment. As one of the people who had been hunting her in China, he had seen hundreds of the girl’s pictures. But now…he wasn’t sure.

  He shook his head slowly. “It’s too small.”

  Borger quickly dropped the other images and allowed the single frame to expand.

  There was no question. It was her.

  126

  Once through the entrance, Caesare counted ninety-four seconds for his bus to traverse several dust-strewn streets and enter the mouth of a large receiving bay located directly beneath one of Dugway’s largest buildings.

  The underground area resembled a massive parking garage, constructed entirely of gray concrete walls and pillars. Long rows of fluorescent lighting stretched overhead provided an eerie accompaniment to the ambient light from outside.

  With a piercing hiss from its brakes, the first bus slowed to a stop, followed by the others. Pulling up less than a hundred feet from several plain white, open-doored vehicles, they reminded him of trams used in amusement parks.

  A larger group of guards dressed in the same light-colored fatigues moved forward. They grouped in front of each bus as the front doors opened and prepared to accept the workers as they stepped off.

  After only a few steps, each laborer was greeted by another scanner for verification, followed immediately by a request to present their government-issued ID card.

  Caesare watched the operation briefly through the windows of the bus before being driven forward in line and down the front steps. He shuffled forward and obediently placed his palm against the scanner, casually glancing at the men surrounding him. Some workers were older and some younger, but just like those on the bus, all appeared hardened and focused.

  The screen under his hand beeped and flashed green simultaneously. The man to Caesare’s right peered at him expectantly, trying to be helpful. “ID?”

  “Soy nuevo.”

  The guard holding the device turned it around and tapped the screen. “He’s new.” He glared at Caesare. “Primer dia?”

  “Si.”

  The guard nodded and scrolled his screen upward using the tip of his finger. When he spoke, it was over his shoulder to another guard. “Custodial. Building eight. Level six.”

  “Big surprise,” the larger man quipped. The guard then stepped forward, pawing impatiently at Caesare. He was trying to push him into line behind several other workers. “Over there. On that one.”

  Caesare nodded and ambled clumsily forward, eyes down but peering attentively out from under his thick eyebrows.

  He eased around and spotted Clay stepping off the second bus.

  Clay’s reception was just as orderly and emotionless. Scanned and thrust forward, he plodded toward the same open-air vehicle Caesare had just climbed into.

  Neither man looked at one another when Clay boarded. Instead, they kept their eyes forward and their seats as far apart as possible.

  Nor did either man display any emotion on their bearded faces, even in knowing they had just received their first indirect message from Will Borger.

  More than just confirmation that he and M0ngol had finally gained complete access to Dugway’s security system, they had also managed to get Clay and Caesare assigned to the same area with only moments to spare. Which hopefully meant they had found the women too.

  ***

  Once the tram was full, it pulled forward with an abrupt jerk and carefully circled several concrete pillars. After ascending a ramp, the vehicle headed back out into the glaring sunlight.

  Clay and Caesare both began scanning the area, matching the orientation of buildings to their memory of the base’s layout. They counted vehicles and personnel, while Clay reached down and started the stopwatch on his cheap wristwatch. One plan was to make it back and commandeer one of the buses once they had returned to ground level. But it was not their first choice. A larger vehicle might make it back to the gate, and then through it, given a large enough distraction. But a lot of things would have to go right.

  The tram rounded a corner, and the men spotted a small corner of the base that could be used as one of a few fortified positions if necessary. The problem was, most positions assumed they would all be together and able to move quickly. And that meant uninjured. Potentially a long shot.

  Beyond that, those locations were unfortunately only temporary cover at best. Because once outside and exposed, all security personnel on base would likely converge upon them. Leaving sixty seconds at the very most to decide on an exit strategy. Then execute it.

  The tram continued its winding path and passed several rows of parked vehicles, some government and some civilian. Then they turned another corner and headed to what the men suspected was one of the installation’s primary research centers. Four stories tall and as nondescript as the others, the building towered over several of the smaller structures around it. One of those was attached to the larger building by a secure and covered second-story walkway. It quietly stretched over them as they passed beneath it.

  After passing below, their tram traveled the length of the larger building. It then circled behind in a horseshoe and approached a tall metal door, rolled up and open. For a moment, the darkness inside seemed still. Waiting and inviting, the entryway was just wide enough to allow the tram to narrowly ease into the building’s receiving area.
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  The vehicle had barely come to a stop before all the workers surrounding Clay and Caesare stood up and began deboarding––under the watchful eye of several more guards. Guards who were armed, and who this time immediately eyed the new faces of Clay and Caesare with suspicion.

  They moved forward, and both Navy men instinctively noted the guns’ muzzles and behind them, fingers wrapped around each trigger.

  One of the guards farther back yelled past the others. “Which one of you is Olivares?”

  Without expression, Clay raised his arm.

  “This way.”

  He was motioned along in a direction together with several other riders. Caesare waited, ordered to stay back until the same man returned a couple minutes later. “You’re Vasquez.”

  “Si.”

  “Follow them…get inside and grab a cart. Move!”

  “Lo siento.” Caesare briefly acknowledged the irony of the situation—he wasn’t actually sorry at all. Being grouped with Clay was one less obstacle they’d need to overcome. His large frame hustled forward, catching up to the others. Following them through another open doorway, he found a maintenance room on the other side. Large and dank, it reeked of cleaning chemicals. Dozens of square cleaning carts were tucked neatly into the far corner, with each now being pulled out by the other workers.

  Less than a minute later, Clay reappeared pushing a large trash bin just as Caesare was stopped by the muzzle tip of a guard’s rifle. “You,” the man barked at him. “Grab a cart. You and Olivares stay with me.”

  Both men nodded obediently and pushed their equipment in tandem without acknowledging one another.