The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3)

by Steven Konkoly

  Rico took off, leaving Rich with Ecker. “Let’s check out this office.”

  “It’s not much. Just a few laptops and other gizmos I’ve never seen before,” said Ecker, leading him toward a row of doors set in the left wall of the hangar.

  Rich followed him into the office at the back of the hangar, unsnapping the medical bag as he approached Archer’s workstation. Ecker was right. It was a simple setup. Two ruggedized laptops fed into a military-grade crypto box, which was connected by a thick cable to an external satellite antenna affixed to the window.

  A small device with a lens was attached to one of the laptops, giving him pause. If it was a camera, they were screwed if anyone was watching. On closer inspection, it didn’t look like a typical webcam. Probably an iris-recognition scanner.

  He set the CTAB on the desk next to one of the laptops and stood behind the desk, taking it all in for a few seconds. Once he thought he had the wiring and connections figured out, he placed the medical kit on the seat next to him and started digging through it.

  “You can hack this?” said Ecker.

  “I can’t,” said Rich. “But have some friends who can.”

  “Where are these friends?”

  “In a van a few miles away,” said Rich.

  “No. Seriously,” said Ecker.

  “I am serious. They can do this remotely.”

  Rich pulled a black plastic case from the faux medical kit and unsnapped it, revealing a military-grade relay hub and an array of cables and connectors. He connected the relay hub’s AC adapter to the power strip under the desk and ran its satellite antenna to the window, fixing the suction cup next to Archer’s.

  “What else?” he muttered, remembering the most obvious and critical step. “Ecker, can you drag sleeping beauty over here? We’re going to need her thumb and, from what I can tell, one of her eyes.”

  “Be right back,” said Ecker.

  His next step was to establish communications with his electronics warfare team and see where they wanted to start. He connected a small device resembling a smartphone to his satellite phone and dialed the van parked in a neighborhood north of the airport. He’d rushed the team there the moment he’d discovered Archer’s destination on the CTAB.

  “You’re in?” said Timothy Graves.

  “We’re in,” said Rich. “I have the camera hooked up if you’d like to take a look at the rig.”

  “Let’s start with the CTAB first,” said Graves. “Based on the pictures you sent, we’ve identified the device. Latest generation NEXIS command tablet, but still nothing too fancy. Plug the tablet into the relay hub and I’ll walk you through the steps to get me in.”

  “I’m waiting on a thumb to activate the CTAB,” said Rich. “What else can I start?”

  “Let me see the rest of the setup,” said Graves.

  Rich held the phone-like device toward the desk and swept it across slowly.

  “Is that an iris scanner?” said Graves.

  “I think so,” said Rich.

  “Start by disconnecting the cables from the crypto relays and plugging them into my relay. You’ll have to play with the adapters.”

  “I’ll get to work on that,” said Rich, switching the phone to speaker. “You’re on speaker, so watch what you say. I’m not one hundred percent with one of our new friends.”

  “Understand,” said Graves.

  “Anish?” said Rich.

  “That hurt my feelings,” said Anish Gupta, Graves’s long-standing counterpart.

  “It was meant to,” said Rich, going to work on the cables.

  Disconnecting them took a few seconds. He still hadn’t found the right adapters when Ecker returned with Archer.

  “You sure they didn’t overdose her?” said Ecker.

  “I’m not worried about it,” said Rich, moving the faux medical kit off the chair. “Plop her down in the chair and follow my colleague’s instructions. He’s going to work on the CTAB.”

  Ecker situated her limp body on the chair and pressed her thumb against the biometric reader at the bottom of the CTAB. When the screen activated, Rich went back to work on the cable adapters, figuring out the connections before Graves got too far into the CTAB hacking process.

  “You’re connected to the computers,” said Rich before nodding at Ecker. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “Do you have the CTAB hooked into the relay?” said Graves.

  Rich pushed the cable he had chosen into one of the CTAB’s USB ports, connecting the other end to Graves’s customized relay hub.

  “Everything is connected.”

  “Wake up the computers and get me in,” said Graves. “We’ll work both systems at once.”

  He tapped the space bar on the laptop with the iris scanner, activating the screen. Sure enough, the first screen instructed the user to place their eye in front of the scanner. Rich pushed the rolling chair up to the desk and held Archer’s face up to the scanner. Ecker was already there, opening her right eye with his fingers. A few seconds later, the screen changed, prompting him for a password.

  “Shit,” said Rich. “Password.”

  “Bummer. We’ll do it the harder way,” said Graves. “As long as we’re wired in through the relay, we can figure it out. Let’s work on the CTAB.”

  He pushed the chair back against the wall, Archer toppling off moments later—her head thunking against the concrete floor. Ecker didn’t react, which was a good sign. If he’d reacted in any way to protect her, Rich would have taken note. Little things added up, and so far Ecker had passed muster. He didn’t fully trust him, but he didn’t distrust him, which was enough to keep him alive.

  After opening several windows on the tablet and pushing at least three dozen screen buttons, Graves sounded satisfied.

  “Nice. Very nice. Uploading everything from the tablet first; then I’ll start probing the tablet’s data source.”

  “Is there anything else you need from us?” said Rich.

  “Buy us some time,” said Graves. “I’m going to try to disable the CTAB’s tracking systems. Hopefully leave a static ghost location.”

  “Perfect. We’re going to stage a refueling mishap and blow up the helicopters. I’ll send you those coordinates as soon as I have them. What about the laptops?”

  “The laptops don’t appear to be GPS tracked, but I think it will raise a lot of eyebrows if there’s activity originating from either of them. Particularly after the owner is burnt to a crisp.”

  “Do what you can with the computers,” said Rich.

  “I’m looking for a way to mask one of them or piggyback onto another computer in the network,” said Graves. “And uploading a shit ton of data while I have a connection.”

  “I’ll give you five minutes to figure it out,” said Rich.

  “I’ll work on masking one of them,” said Graves.

  “Let me know how it goes,” said Rich, disconnecting the call and switching to the tactical radio net. “All stations, we’re out of here in five minutes.”

  “Still looking for the security patrol. You said three guards, right?” said Larsen.

  “Ecker said there were ten. We took out seven so far. Three facing the tarmac, and two on each side. Keep looking.”

  “Rich?” said Ecker, his voice sounding very different—almost like he was scared.

  Rich didn’t look up. He pretended to stay interested in the closest laptop for a moment before swiftly drawing his suppressed pistol and firing from the hip at the doorway. He’d practiced the holster draw thousands of times, with and without ammunition, but he’d never fired from the hip before. He didn’t have a choice in this case. A security guard stood in the door frame, pointing a rifle at his head.

  The first bullet from his pistol punched through the leftmost laptop screen, catching the security guard in the shoulder and shifting his rifle barrel far enough to miss Rich’s head when the guard pressed the trigger. Subsequent bullets slammed into the guard’s upper torso as Rich steadied the
pistol and continued to fire until the man went down—nowhere near dead. He was wearing body armor.

  “Three hostiles in hangar. One down in front of office,” said Rich over the net while shouldering his rifle.

  “Copy,” said Jeff.

  “Moving,” said Rico.

  Rich aimed his rifle at the man’s unprotected groin, intending to bury several bullets into his lower body cavity, but Ecker had already moved to the doorway and fired a single shot at a downward angle. Head shot. The operative backed up and lowered himself to the floor, keeping his rifle trained at the door the entire time. Rich moved clear of the desk and did the same.

  Several suppressed shots echoed through the hangar, punctuated by a few metallic-sounding ricochets.

  “One down toward the left rear of hangar,” said Jeff. “I think the third shooter took off, but I’m not one hundred percent.”

  A single suppressed gunshot cracked inside the hangar.

  “Confirm that shooter by left rear of hangar is dead,” said Rico.

  “You hear that, Eric?” said Rich.

  “We’re in position at the front corners,” said Larsen. “It’s a huge building front, with a ton of loading bays and semitrailers.”

  “My guess is number three will run for the nearest gate,” said Rich. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long.”

  A few seconds passed before Ragan radioed in. “Looks like they popped one of the loading bay doors. I have an armed target climbing down to the parking lot. He’s blocked from Larsen’s view.”

  “You know what to do,” said Rich.

  “Done,” said Ragan, a moment later.

  “Confirm it and get back to the hangar,” said Rich, getting up.

  “On the way,” said Larsen.

  Ecker pushed off his hands, coming to his knees. “I’ve never seen someone draw a pistol that fast. Not from a tactical holster. I thought we were both dead.”

  “So did I,” said Rich. “I’ve never fired from the hip before. Nearly missed.”

  “I’ll settle for nearly,” said Ecker. “Even though you put a bullet through one of the laptops.”

  “Hope that didn’t dick things up too badly,” said Rich, pulling out his satellite phone.

  Graves answered immediately. “I was about to call you. One of the laptops just took a shit. Can you make sure—”

  “I put a bullet through it,” said Rich. “You’ll have to work with one.”

  “I’m not going to ask,” said Graves.

  “You really don’t want to know.”

  “That’s been my mantra since day one,” said Graves, causing Rich to chuckle. “Only way to stay sane working with you.”

  “Any progress?” said Rich.

  “The CTAB is safe to travel,” said Graves. “It’s in receive-only mode, so we can see any updates or requests. Not sure how much value it’ll be, since we can’t interact with it, but we’ll keep working the problem. The computers, correction—the computer you didn’t shoot—is a different story. We’re going to need to spend some time with it.”

  “I can give you a few more minutes.”

  “I need a few more hours,” said Graves.

  “I don’t want to leave it,” said Rich. “But I don’t see another option.”

  The last message received on the mission commander’s CTAB had been for the helicopters to proceed immediately to CHASE regional headquarters at Grissom Air Reserve Base. They clearly didn’t want anyone but Archer or someone with the same level of authority to touch the computers.

  “Can you reconnect the computer to Archer’s crypto relay while keeping my relay plugged in?” said Graves.

  “I’ll need to disconnect you briefly. The crypto array has one type of connection. Give me a minute.”

  “Only if you give me three,” said Graves. “We’ll try to negotiate some kind of communication between the computer and greater network. Plant something we might be able to exploit later.”

  “Let me get to work on this,” said Rich, turning to Ecker. “Grab Archer and get her into one of the vehicles we’ll be taking. Then help the others rig the explosives. We’re out of here in three minutes.”

  Chapter 19

  Larsen put the fuel truck into gear and drove it carefully through the open hangar bay door, turning right when he guessed that half of the truck had cleared the concrete structure. He was trying to stay as far away from the helicopter rotors as possible, especially since nobody on the team could immediately cite the safe passing height of the rotor arc compared to the height of the fuel truck. Better safe than sorry.

  When the truck had fully emerged from the hangar, he turned the wheel left until the hood pointed directly through the middle of the gap between the two spinning rotors.

  “Looking good, Eric,” said Rich. “You’re nowhere near either rotor.”

  “Doesn’t look that way,” he said.

  “Optical illusion,” said Rich.

  Larsen let up on the clutch and gave the engine some gas, easing the truck into the gap, where he quickly realized that Rich was right. He had plenty of room on both sides. Nudging the truck forward, he got it as close to the tail rotor of the medevac helicopter as his nerves would allow.

  “Good to go?” said Larsen.

  “Perfect,” said Rich. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Larsen hopped onto the tarmac, the rotor wash from the two helicopters buffeting him as he ran clear of the machines and climbed into the rear passenger seat of the waiting HUMVEE. Ragan hit the accelerator before he closed the door.

  “Sorry. They’re not waiting,” she said.

  She wasn’t kidding. The first HUMVEE had already started to make the turn around the southeast corner of the hangar.

  “I hope they don’t plan on blowing us up with the helicopters,” said Larsen, only half joking.

  “Why do you think I’m driving so fast?” said Ragan. “You might want to buckle in.”

  Larsen glanced out his window, the helicopters already out of sight behind them. “I think we’re clear,” he said, snapping his shoulder belt into place.

  “So you guys aren’t part of that team?” said Ecker.

  Larsen forgot that they hadn’t said anything to Ecker about their identities. At first he couldn’t see any reason to keep them a secret, but something told him to keep his mouth shut. If Ecker fell into the wrong hands after going his own way, no good would come of him knowing their names. Ragan apparently agreed, because she stayed quiet.

  “We kind of fell into this work,” said Larsen. “Not sure if they trust us one hundred percent.”

  “They trust you more than me,” said Ecker.

  “Hang on,” said Ragan before taking the warehouse corner like a stunt driver.

  The HUMVEE skidded across the concrete, Ragan bringing it under control immediately. The armored vehicle rocketed forward as soon as it straightened out of the turn, racing after Rich’s vehicle—and quickly gaining ground. Larsen could count the number of times he’d slid across hard pavement in a HUMVEE on one hand. One of those times had ended with a flipped vehicle, a few broken bones and a two-hour ass-chewing. He’d made the right choice putting Ragan in the driver’s seat. No way he would or could have taken the corner that fast.

  “Ecker, any recommendations on which gate to take out of here?” said Rich over the net.

  “Crash right through the cargo delivery gate—directly in front of the building,” said Ecker. “It’s wide and pretty flimsy, plus it’s out of sight of the rest of the airport. Archer also managed to pull all Army security away from the fence line. Nobody will notice.”

  “Copy. We’ll plow through it,” said Rich. “Let me know if we’re not headed for the right gate.”

  “Can we open the gate from the inside?” said Larsen. “We’re going through the trouble of recreating Black Hawk Down back at the hangar, the least we can do is not make it completely obvious that someone hauled ass out of here.”

  “Jesus, Eric. You’re
like a wet blanket sometimes. No fun at all,” said Rich, pausing for a few moments. “Can we open the gate, Ecker?”

  “You hit a green button inside the guard shack. Closes by itself,” said Ecker.

  “You could have mentioned that.”

  “Sorry. It kind of felt like a crash-through-the gate moment, you know—based on the way everyone is driving,” said Ecker.

  Rich laughed over the net. “I stuck Ecker with you guys for a reason. We can spare a few seconds to press a button.”

  After speeding through the gate, the convoy careened left onto the northern access road, barely avoiding a line of three Army fuel trucks headed for another hangar area.

  “Larsen, can you get up in the turret and give me a battle-damage assessment?” said Rich. “I’ll detonate the charges on your mark.”

  “Heading up now,” said Larsen.

  Larsen unlocked the rooftop hatch, pushing it up into the turret, and stepped on the gunner’s stand between the backseats. He swiveled the turret to the left until the M240 machine gun pointed squarely at the two-story hangar structure. The HUMVEE suddenly veered right, causing him to check over his back. They’d just navigated the final turn leading away from the airport’s industrial area.

  “Eyes on the hangar,” said Larsen.

  “Fire in the hole!” said Rich.

  “Funny,” mumbled Larsen, keeping his eyes on the building.

  A few seconds later, the roof of the hangar rose under a flash of bright yellow fire, plummeting downward just as suddenly. When the seemingly intact roof dropped out of sight, the sides of the massive structure blew outward in concrete chunks—showering the tarmac. A spectacular fireball rose above the flattened hangar, warming his face for a brief moment. The fuel truck behind the helicopter had properly detonated. Incredible.

  “I’d say your handiwork will keep them busy long enough to pull off your next stunt,” said Larsen.

  “That good?” said Rich.

  “I just watched the hangar roof rise about twenty feet into the air and slam back down—blasting out the walls,” said Larsen.

  “Holy shit,” said Rich, his sentiment echoed by everyone on the net.