Moving wide to the side, Barley replied, “Yeah, all right. But you be careful down there. And you need to stay away from the cavern, man. It’s totally off-limits.”
“I don’t even need to go near the cavern,” Connor replied as he moved forward. “The breaker box is up in Beta Passage. That’s over two hundred yards from the cavern.”
“All right.” Barley said. “But be careful, Connor. If you run into a squad of Blake’s MPs just have them raise me on the A-unit. I’ll deal with them.”
Connor waved, walking away. In ten minutes he was at the breaker box to put his real plan in action. He haphazardly scattered electrical tools on the steel walkway. Then he reached into the breaker box, hesitated, and shut off the main power switch.
Instantly total darkness descended through the cavern, and panicked shouts echoed along the hallways. Connor ran fast, knowing his way even in the dark. He took a hundred strides to get close to the Containment Cavern’s steel door and then he dropped beside a wall, watching the activity.
Military flashlights bounced, piercing the liquid blackness as soldiers took aim on a single defensive spot. It took Connor only three seconds to determine their point of concern.
Then he quickly spun and ran back up the tunnel as the pager system boomed with a call for emergency electrical assistance. He reached the box and hit the switch, and the corridor was flooded with light. He heard boots clattering on the walkway, approaching, and began the last phase of his act, dropping to the ground and rolling.
Barley and two soldiers came charging down the corridor. They were carrying flashlights and rifles, moving with purpose. Connor waved to them and shouted, grimacing theatrically in an expression of extreme pain. Frantically he lifted a hand, signaling.
“It’s hot!” he screamed. “Don’t come any closer!”
“What!” Barley shouted, stopping in place along with the entire team. They stood more than twenty feet away.
Face twisted, Connor rose, bending to one side. Making a great and dramatic display of trembling hands, he took out a high-powered circuit tester, a formidable black box that had been the scariest thing he could come up with for the stunt. Then he glanced ominously at the soldiers, the steel walkway. “If you get hit with the current, try to reach the calcite,” he warned. “If you get off quick enough, it might not kill you.”
Choosing not to wait for that, two of the soldiers jumped onto the calcite. But Barley nervously held his ground. “What is it?” he whispered.
Connor answered, “A wire grounded out.”
Tentatively, he reached into the box, touching a circuit.
“Don’t kill yourself, Connor!”
“The circuit grounded into the walkway,” Connor gasped, moving with infinite caution. “I got hit pretty bad. I don’t know if this new breaker is going to be enough ... or not!”
Connor felt in the box, narrowly watching Barley shift. The lieutenant’s hands were tight on the M-16. Finally, Connor released a breath. “It’s gonna hold,” Connor said, turning and leaning against the wall as Barley ran up, grabbing his arm. The lieutenant’s muscular face glistened with sweat.
“You gonna be okay, Connor?”
“Yeah, I got off it pretty quick. I’ve been hit with a 440 before ... but ... but I think it hurt me this time.”
Barley glanced with cautious distance into the box. Looked back at Connor. “Is it fixed?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Thank God,” Barley said, “I thought that...” He cast an angry glance toward the Containment Cavern before looking abruptly at Connor, but Connor ignored it. He left the coil of wire lying on the ground, walked away.
“I’ve got to get checked out,” he said, moving painfully up the tunnel. Overcome by his own theatrics, he fell into a slight limp. “I don’t like the way that felt.”
“Yeah,” Barley said, glancing again at the box. “Do whatever you need to do, man.”
Connor waved, walked away. Wounded.
But he knew now what he needed to know. He had seen the guns, the sandbags – the rest. An entire platoon of heavily armed soldiers moving frantically to throw themselves down with a desperate aim. But they hadn’t been aiming up the tunnel, as if to keep something out. They had been aiming dead at the cavern’s steel-reinforced door.
To keep something in.
***
Connor entered the Ice Station’s Communications Center to find Beth angry and concentrated, leaning over a computer panel. Her dark eyes were focused, her mouth grim.
“Beth,” he whispered, “we need to talk. I’ve got to—”
“Not now, Connor.” She didn’t even look up. “Something has happened to the communications link with SAT-COM.” She typed quickly into a computer keyboard: https:\www.fed.world.gov.
The screen displayed: ACCESS DENIED.
A silent curse twisted her lips. “What is going on here? We can’t contact anybody!” She turned to glare at the four assistant civilian dispatchers. “Did any of you perform a systems scan for a viral interface?”
Heads were shaken. Apparently, everyone was as confused as she was. When Beth turned back to the computer screen her mind was visibly racing behind her dark Italian eyes.
“Beth, listen to me for—”
“Just a second, Connor.” She typed quickly: http:\sat.com.wea-rep.gov.
Reply: ACCESS DENIED.
Beth leaned back, staring down. “This is all wrong. Why can’t we get a National Weather System report? What has hit this system?” A subdued pause. “This is just absolutely not right, Connor.”
“Beth,” he said, reaching out to gently grip her arm, “we have to talk right now!”
A deep, calculating expression that was almost no expression at all settled over her face before she nodded. Then she leaned over the machine again, typing with infinite care: C: DOWNLOAD ALL INCOMING KEYBOARD STROKES FOR SATELLITE RELAY: DURING LAST24HRS.A.B.C
A short pause, then a Clay began blinking continuously. Connor had no idea what she had done. When she turned to Connor she was solid and concentrated, but he still saw a faint flash of fear.
“What’s happening, Connor? Somebody or something has shut down the entire Communications Center. We can’t talk to anyone. Anywhere. And no one can talk to us. We can’t even talk to the cavern.”
Connor leaned forward. “Beth, I think we’re all in serious danger. Something is very wrong in the cavern.”
She stared, blinked. “What?”
Because Connor knew she was strong enough to handle almost anything, he said it plainly. “Beth, I think that those idiots have created something down there that is very, very dangerous. And it’s out of control. That’s why they’ve shut down the Communications Center. They’ve probably put some kind of lockout code inside the relay because they’re afraid that the ground crew is about to discover what’s going on, and one of us will panic and call for help. Then the whole world is going to know what’s going on here.”
Beth’s teeth gritted as she shook her head. “But . . . but shutting down this Communications Center is stupid, Connor! All the phone lines in the cavern are routed through this place! If someone’s tampered with the satellite relay they couldn’t help but shut down the—” Without a second’s hesitation she snatched up a phone, listening. Set it down again. Her face was almost pale. “It’s dead. All the lines are dead.”
Connor glanced over her shoulder to see the assistant dispatchers working without result to clear up the system. His voice was low. “We’ve got to get off this island, Beth. As fast as we can.”
She glanced out the window of the center, toward the dock. “Can we use one of the boats?”
“No. I’ve already been down there. The cruisers are being guarded by those MPs, but I managed to get on board with the excuse that the cruisers held dangerous chemicals that needed electrical mai
ntenance. But while I was there I found that the ships have been mechanically disabled. It’s simple stuff, really—could probably fix it in an hour. But I can’t get an hour. They’ll arrest me if I try. And none of my men can fly one of the military choppers.”
“Which leaves us with what?”
“The North Atlantic Sea Patrol,” Connor responded. “They can get here inside two hours if we can contact them. They’ll bring a cruiser big enough to get all of us off the island.”
Bowing her head, Beth was motionless for a moment. Then she looked up, dark fire flashing in her eyes. “Then I’m going to try and break this code and send out a distress, Connor. I’m going to contact the Sea Patrol for an emergency airlift of this facility.”
“How are you going to do that?”
She glanced contemptuously at the panel, shook her head. “I don’t know what these fools have done, Connor. But I guarantee you they can’t outthink me. I’m not going to let them put my child in this kind of danger! I’ll smash this security code to pieces!” She studied it. “But it might take time. Maybe more time than we have. We’ve got to have another plan, Connor. You’ve got to reach Thor’s tower and use his shortwave. It’s not linked to this system and it might connect with Iceland.”
Connor frowned. “Beth, Thor’s tower is on the north coast of the island. That’s almost forty miles away. Even if I take a Jeep down the dry glacier road and don’t wipe out in Funstaf Ravine, it’s still a two-hour drive. A lot could happen before I get back to—”
“That doesn’t matter, Connor!”
Connor grimaced, staring. “All right, Beth. I’ll go for the tower. But I don’t want you going head to head with these military maniacs while I’m gone. Do you understand? I want you to do everything low-key!”
Beth glanced at the communications terminal, and her voice almost cracked with rage. “Yeah, Connor, I’ll be discreet. I’m downloading incoming keystrokes during the last twenty-four hours to see what happened.” She paused. “If these people are monitoring the system they could still get wise to what I’m doing. But that’s just a risk we’ve got to take.” She looked up at him. “Both of us.”
Connor leaned forward. “Just be careful, Beth. Stay calm and very, very careful. Don’t lose your temper. And don’t let anyone else know what you’re doing.”
Her face was steady against his chest. “I won’t,” she whispered.
Connor kissed her on the forehead.
“I’ll be back in four hours. Two hours over and two hours back. Send someone in your crew to take Jordan from the day care center and keep him at the house. Make up some excuse to cover it.”
Beth nodded, raising her face to reveal an essence that was intuitive and intimate and frightening. Her voice was a low whisper that Connor had learned long ago to deeply respect.
“Something horrible is happening, Connor. I can feel it.”
Connor nodded, grim.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Connor left the Communications Building in a thinly veiled rush. He wanted to warn the crew, but he wasn’t sure what kind of panic it would cause or what kind of military retaliation would be executed so he said nothing, playing for discretion.
Without speaking to anyone at all, Connor climbed into a Jeep and he immediately gunned the engine. But as he put the vehicle in gear he was somehow touched, touched by something close, deep, and familiar, and he looked carefully across the Housing Complex to see...
Jordan.
His small son was standing alone in the crimson light, a lonely, solitary shape poised on the steps of the small day care center. He stared at Connor and smiled, raising his hand into the air, fingers spread wide. “I always want to be with you.”
Pain twisting his face, Connor raised his hand to the air to hold it high and strong, and he saw Jordan laugh, smiling in joy. Then Connor looked down, ignited by a silent rage that blazed white-hot in his heart into a single dominating thought: If you do anything to harm my boy, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill every one of you.
The Jeep’s engine was wild and hoarse and roaring as Connor went through the open gate.
But the rage came from Connor’s soul.
Chapter 11
Connor’s Jeep slid to a stop at the base of Thor’s tower. Connor took the steps three at a time to enter the cylindrical chamber at the top without announcement
Dressed in a coarse woolen white shirt, Thor sat behind a crude oak desk with a fire roaring in the hearth. The giant Norseman held a long, feathered ink pen in his hand, parchment spread on the table before him. He regarded Connor’s entrance without surprise.
“We’re in serious trouble,” Connor said.
Thor nodded. “I know.”
Connor didn’t know how to receive that answer so he moved on. “When they put you here on the island, didn’t they leave you a shortwave radio so that you could call for help?”
“Yes.” Thor replied quickly. “A radio. It is not much. But it is strong enough to access the North Atlantic Sea Patrol maritime frequencies.”
“Good. We’ve got to get off this island as fast as possible. All of us. We don’t have any time to waste.”
Thor was immediately on his feet and Connor saw that he was wearing his customary leather pants and sealskin boots. Without hesitation the giant moved to a large chest, opening the top. He lifted a dusty, very primitive-looking radio from within. He set it on the desk and ran a wire to the single electrical outlet bracketed to the stone wall, plugging it in.
“I will start the generator,” Thor rumbled, moving to the door. “I use it for light sometimes.”
Connor pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the radio, a 1960s-era shortwave. He read the frequency band—3,000 kilo-hertz. “Great,” he muttered. “It doesn’t get any weaker than that.”
He heard the gas-operated generator start up in the lower level of the tower, and he twisted the power output to maximum, watched the power red-line. He opened the receiver, twisting the signal dial to test frequencies. He received only a haze of static crackling, overloading. In another moment Thor came through the doorway, watching expectantly.
“Does it usually sound like this?” Connor asked, sweating in the heat of the room.
“No.” Thor shook his head. “I used it once when I broke my leg in a fall. It was not like that.”
For another long moment Connor twisted the dials, receiving nothing but haze. “This isn’t right,” he said. “They must be using some kind of electromagnetic countermeasure. They’re jamming the signal.”
“Yes. They would do that.” Thor paused. “Tell me what I can do.”
“We need a boat,” Connor whispered. He flipped the radio on its face, quickly removing the screws on the back. “I’ve got to get Beth and Jordan and the rest of my crew off this island. And you, too. Something is very wrong in that cavern, and I don’t think any of us are safe here.” A pause. “I know we’re not.”
Connor tossed the back of the radio aside like a Frisbee.
Thor asked, “If they are jamming the frequency, what can you do?”
“Blast through it. That’s the easiest way to defeat it. All they’re doing is throwing a lot of cross-current electromagnetic activity into the air. But we’ve got something on our side. We’re pretty far from the Ice Station and we’ve got the mountains between us and the base, so that’s going to cut off some of their signal. But then again, this old radio doesn’t have much power.” He glanced around. “Do you have any wire?”
“Wire?” Thor scowled.
“Yeah, wire.”
“What kind of wire?”
“Any kind of wire.”
Without a word Thor turned, descending the stairs. And Connor was working on the back of the radio again, removing a transistor. He uncoiled the wire wrapped around the loop stick, stretching two feet of it from the back.
Then he looked around Thor’s chamber, saw an empty aluminum foil package. Quickly he wrapped the foil tightly around the loop stick wire and tore off another piece of foil to connect both transistors. He knew that the aluminum around the transistors would allow for a slightly higher flow of electricity, and the aluminum wrapped around the loop-stick would intensify the frequency.
Trying to recall everything he had learned about shortwave radios during electronics school, Connor removed the mesh cover from the microphone and disconnected the ground and hot wires. Then he used his knife to strip the insulation from the hot wire and attached it to the handle of Thor’s cast-iron frying pan. Last, he stripped the insulation from the ground wire and laid the wire to the side. Now, he knew, whenever he touched the ground wire close to the iron handle beside the hot wire, there would be a short, intensified blast of Morse code. And that was exactly what he needed, because where electromagnetic jamming could confuse a multiplexing frequency like a voice, a single-pulse frequency like Morse code could usually be blasted through. Thor entered the chamber, holding an old coil of electrical wiring in his hands. His face was amazed, as if he had shocked himself by finding it.
“That’s good enough,” Connor said. Instantly he began stripping the rubber insulation from the dusty coil of 14-gauge wire.
“What are you doing?” Thor whispered intensely, bending forward.
“I’m setting up a broad wave antenna. They used to call it a whip antenna in the old days.”
“Why?”
“Because a whip antenna will throw a hard signal in a straight direction instead of just sending it out all over the place. The whip will give the Morse code better range and power.” Connor glanced out a long rectangular window. “Which direction is Reykjavik?”
“It is there.” Thor pointed inland.
Connor stared. “What?”
Thor nodded. “Yes, Connor, Reykjavik is to the south. We must broadcast back over the island and the mountains in order to reach it. We will have to broadcast through the Ice Station and the jamming. If we put the signal straight out to the ocean, we will be sending it into the Arctic Circle.”
Thrilled to Death Page 112
