Now all Adriana had to do was change before the deliverywoman made it back to the admiral's street.
Her Trojan horse was a risky play, but it was the only one she had. With time running out, she didn’t have the luxury of coming up with something more elegant. It would have to work. John Dawkins’s life depended on it, and maybe so did Sean’s.
40
Astoria, Oregon
Fort Stevens was a little over eleven hours away from Columbia Falls by car—if the weather cooperated. Until that morning, Sean and Tommy had been lucky.
Their luck changed overnight.
When they woke up, their new SUV was covered in a fresh blanket of snow, as was the rest of the area. Most of the storm had moved on, leaving behind several inches of fresh powder and a few gray clouds overhead to sprinkle flurries on spots the rest of the blizzard might have missed.
Sean woke up around 3:30 a.m. local time. He showered, dressed, and made a pot of coffee, choosing to let Tommy sleep for a few more minutes before they left. Tommy had showered the night before, so when four o’clock hit, he was ready to go when Sean woke him.
Emily and her team stayed behind in the cabin, and while Sean intended to not wake her, he was pretty sure the smell of coffee and the sounds of the and the door opening and closing would have roused her. She didn’t make an appearance, but Sean knew she was a light sleeper. There were too many missions where the two of them had had no choice but to share a bed, or at least a room. Nothing ever happened between them as far as romance was concerned. She wasn’t his type, and Sean got the vibe he was definitely not hers. They were great friends, but any sort of intimate relationship was never on the table. He was glad for that. It could have made things awkward later on down the road.
When they left earlier that morning under the cover of darkness, he didn’t feel the need to thank her or say goodbye. He’d convey his gratitude later. Right now, they had to hurry. With the uncooperative weather, it would be a challenge to get to the coast by nightfall. Even though they still had another day or so, Sean didn’t want to risk it. The sooner they could figure out this whole thing, the better.
The drive took nearly thirteen hours, which was better than either Sean or Tommy would have believed possible given the conditions.
They first cut through Astoria, a place Sean and Tommy both knew from their childhood as the location where one of their favorite movies was based. Then they proceeded out of town and across a bridge that took them to the peninsula where Fort Stevens State Park was located.
Fortunately, there were still a few hours of daylight left despite the churning gray soup overhead.
Tommy was the last one to drive and found a place to park in one of the public areas. There weren’t many other vehicles in the lot. While the weather was considerably warmer than where their journey had begun thirteen hours prior, there was still a chill in the damp air. Rain spat on them in annoying little droplets that seemed more like the heavens were sweating.
Sean looked around the area and pulled his raincoat hood up over his head. Tommy did the same as he got out of the truck and walked around to the back. The rear gate lifted, and they each grabbed their rucksacks, slung them over their shoulders, and then looked around again, surveying the area for both trouble and a clue as to where they should go next.
Tommy closed the rear hatch after a few seconds and then turned to his friend. “Where to now?”
Sean took a deep breath and sighed. “Visitor center?”
Tommy closed his eyes slowly, grimacing at the answer. “Seriously?”
Sean chuckled. “No, moron. Of course not. Let’s have a look around.”
Tommy bit his bottom lip while Sean took off down the path leading into the park.
As the two proceeded deeper into the state preserve, sounds of the ocean crashing against the shore mingled with the occasional howls of wind. There were stands of evergreen trees on either side of the trail, spaced apart now and then by large rocks and patches of undergrowth. Up ahead, they could see where the trees thinned and eventually gave way to flat, open spaces. It reminded Sean of the coast of Maryland, or perhaps South Carolina where the lowlands met the water.
As they left the cover of the forests behind and walked out into the open near the tip of the peninsula, they saw one of the bunkers off to the right and a long, concrete structure straight ahead facing out toward the Pacific. The building was several hundred feet across. There were multiple openings where windows used to be, and wide doors dotted a curved area in the center of the structure. There were two other openings on either side of the semicircle. Sean figured them to be loading bays, but they could have been anything. Just off to the right of the half-circle wall, a tower stood two stories high, propped up by two concrete pilings. The entire structure appeared to be cut out of the hill and, as such, wet green grass ran up the sides of parts of it. The grass ran across the expanse of the peninsula, giving the place an Irish or Scottish sort of feeling.
This last iteration of Fort Stevens had been built prior to World War II. It bore a resemblance to so many similar defense projects Sean and Tommy had seen over the years as they toured the country and researched various historical military installations.
When it was in operation, Fort Stevens had been part of a fortification known as the Harbor Defense System. Along with forts Canby and Columbia just across the border between states, the three forts were designed to protect the mouth of the Columbia River and that portion of the Pacific Coast from enemies. Fort Stevens was occupied and fully operational from the time of the Civil War until the end of World War II, when it was shut down and eventually turned into a state park. The property boasted over four thousand acres of natural beauty combined with a rich military history, making it one of the more fascinating and exceptional parks in the nation. During the warmer months, visitors could walk the beaches, do some camping or hiking, and take the opportunity to view the incredibly diverse wildlife in this part of the lush Pacific Northwest.
One of the interesting, and somber, facts that Tommy noted during his research of the facility was that Fort Stevens was located near the middle of what is known as the Graveyard of the Pacific. This swath of death and destruction stretched from Tillamook Bay in Oregon all the way up to Vancouver Island and Cape Scott Provincial Park.
The waters off the coast were the home of more than two thousand known shipwrecks. Strange and unpredictable weather patterns along with treacherous underwater terrain made for difficult sailing through that stretch of the sea. Estimates said more than seven hundred people had lost their lives in shipwrecks along the graveyard. Still more perished with each new year despite increases in technology, sailing knowledge, and the warnings residing in the minds of every sailor within a hundred miles.
Tommy had heard of the fort and the surrounding area several times, but never took a moment to check it out online or in books. It seemed, he was always too busy.
“This place feels like it’s haunted,” Sean said as they trudged down the damp path. The gravel under their feet crunched with every step. The trail curled around to the other side of the hill and continued around to the point of the peninsula. There were outcroppings of trees over their shoulders in the other direction, where the land rose slightly to a plateau.
“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. His head twisted around several times, making sure there was no one else about.
Off in the distance, near the shore, there were a few people hanging around looking out at the water. An older couple held hands as they walked along the beach, their heads bowed.
Sean led the way around the entrances, the windows, and the curved wall in the center and kept walking until he reached the end of the structure. “You think we should go inside and check it out?” There was trepidation in his tone.
Tommy pulled out the piece of paper from his coat pocket and held it in both hands. The top corners flapped in the breeze as he read the passage again.
“I don’t think so,” Tommy said. �
��This thing tells us that whatever we’re looking for is going to be hidden a thousand paces from the innermost corner.”
“That’s assuming the fort, or an earlier iteration of it, was here back in Madison’s time.”
“There was a small fort built here when the explorers came through, though it was simple, not like some of the other forts of the time. From what I read, they built it more as a way to stake their claim on the land and let it be known that the United States military had been there and would be coming back.”
Sean looked back toward the direction they’d just come from and fixed his gaze on the corner. “I guess that would be it, then?” He pointed at the end of the building nearest the path.
“I suppose so,” Tommy said.
The two marched back down the trail and stopped at the corner where the concrete building came to an end. Tommy held up the paper again, almost as if he was looking at a map, then lowered the page and stared out away from the corner toward the plateau he’d noticed before.
“Up there?” Sean asked, noting his friend’s gaze.
“Looks that way.”
“Okay, then.”
The two left the fortification behind and hiked off the path, through the marshy grass toward the hillside. Some of the ground was soft under their boots, and they had to move carefully, watching their every step.
Once they reached the gently rising slope, the ground became firmer and more consistent, allowing them to move faster. As they reached the top of the hill, Sean looked back out at the plain below, just to be certain they were alone.
They kept walking, and soon the trees blocked their view of the fort and the coast just beyond. There was also less wind here, which neither of the two minded. The breeze coming off the ocean and the Columbia River had made the chilly air feel colder than it was. It was still way warmer than where they’d been the last few days, traipsing across North Dakota, Montana, and part of Idaho.
The small forest opened up again into a meadow. The clearing was full of tall grass like they’d seen down by the fort and along the pathway from the parking area. Tommy stepped out into the middle of it and spun around in 360 degrees.
“Did you forget to count your steps?” Sean asked.
Tommy bit his lower lip. He looked like a kid. “Um, no?”
“How many do you have right now?”
“Three—”
“Nope,” Sean cut him off.
“Fine. I forgot to count. The letter said a thousand paces.”
“Yeah, I know what it said,” Sean quipped. He fired a disdainful look at his friend and then laughed. “You’re such an idiot.”
Tommy chuckled and shook his head in shame. “I know. I know.”
“Seriously, you had one job.”
“Okay, first of all, I had two jobs. Getting us in the right direction was the first. So, would you mind sharing with me how many steps we’ve taken so far?”
“Eight.” Sean still had the expression on his face that told Tommy to have another slice of humble pie.
“Okay, so eight hundred steps. That means we have—”
“Two hundred to go?”
“You know, you’re hilarious. Just keep it up, and you’ll be walking home.”
“Sure I will. Can we please keep moving? I’m thinking just over that ridge.” He pointed in the direction of a mound in the middle of the meadow.
Tommy sighed and then started trudging through the grass again. When they’d walked over the top of the mound, a new structure came into view.
“What is that? Looks like some kind of bunker.”
Sean slowed his pace and stared at the concrete building. “That’s exactly what it is,” he said.
“I didn’t see anything about this on the maps I studied.”
“And it probably wasn’t in any of the brochures you read or on the park’s website. Right?”
Tommy nodded. “Right.”
“Well, we’ve come all this way. Might as well have a look.”
“Yeah.”
The two skidded down the mound and walked the last one hundred steps to the little military building. Compared to the main fort, this building looked like nothing more than a storage shed. Sean figured it was about fifty feet long, though that was difficult to assess from his angle. It was only one level, and the windows were small. The rusted metal door on the end hung slightly ajar.
“Why’s the door open?” Tommy asked. “You think someone’s in there?”
Sean’s eyes narrowed as he peered at the building. “No. Probably just some local teenagers using it as a place to get drunk on weekends. Still…” Sean drew the pistol from his inner holster and held it down at his side. “Better—”
“Safe than sorry? You really need a new line. You know that, right?”
“Solid burn, Schultzie.” He walked ahead toward the open door, keeping a close watch on the woods surrounding the bunker.
He reached the door and stopped, stuck his gun in first to check the immediate area on the other side, and then nudged the door farther. Inside, the place was completely abandoned. There was no furniture, no equipment, just a few empty beer cans scattered around. As Sean suspected, it was a weekend drinking place for local kids wanting to avoid being caught by parents or police.
Tommy joined his friend inside the small space and looked around to the left. The corridor ended abruptly at a blank wall.
Sean moved ahead and rounded the corner immediately opposite of the doorway. Another corridor presented itself, but there were no rooms to be found and no other doors.
The two stalked forward, weapons drawn and at their sides, gripped with both hands. Sean reached the end of the narrow hallway and turned left. More light came into the space from windows along the top of the concrete walls. He came to another corner and poked his head around it. There was nothing except another door, the back way in and out of the old building.
A deep frown crossed his face, and he let his right arm sag to his side, still holding the pistol in that hand.
“What in the world?” Tommy asked. “This has to be the place.”
Sean drew in a long breath through his nostrils and let it out slowly. He looked back down the hall again and scratched his head with his free hand. “Unless that mound out there was where the thing is hidden.”
“Could be,” Tommy said, “though based on what you told me, this would be closer to the right distance.”
“That’s if there really was an older fort where the current one is standing.”
The two spun around again, checking the walls with a closer eye, inspecting every inch of the bunker. The wooden floorboards were old and worn down. They creaked with every subtle move. The breeze whistled through the opening where a window used to be.
“What are we missing here?” Tommy asked. He put his hands out wide and let them fall, clapping against his hips. “This building couldn’t have been anything more than a munitions store or a place to stow equipment.”
Sean nodded. “Yeah, unless…”
His eyes fixed on the floor about fifteen feet away, midway down the hall.
“Unless what?”
Sean tiptoed over to the spot in the floor that had caught his attention. There was a chunk missing on one of the wooden boards closest to the wall. Most of it was flush against the bottom edge where the concrete met the top of the flooring. Sean got down on one knee and waved his free hand over the little opening. It wasn’t big, maybe the size of a watch face, but he felt cool air flowing out of it.
“This isn’t the bunker,” Sean said. He could see Tommy was about to ask an obvious question, so he kept talking. “Bunkers are usually underground. This place is just the entrance to it. It’s not big enough to be an armory, and there aren’t any additional rooms. The bunker must have been covered up. I bet if we pull up these floorboards, we’ll find a way down into the real bunker, and that is where we—hopefully—will find whatever it is we’re looking for.”
“Okay,” Tommy said.
“So, we need to get something to pry up these boards.”
“Now, that,” a new voice said, “is a good idea.”
Tommy started to raise his weapon. Sean’s reaction, too, was quick but immediately threatened by the newcomer.
“Don’t,” the voice said. “Keep your hands right where they are.”
They couldn’t see the man. He was keeping his face just behind the corner, only revealing one eye so he could aim the Glock at his targets while maintaining safe cover.
Sean froze.
Tommy lowered his gun back to his side.
“Now, put those on the floor, please. I don’t want to shoot you.”
“Then why are you pointing a gun at us?” Tommy asked.
“Because I’m a federal agent. And you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of former president John Dawkins.”
41
Annapolis
Adriana stared out the windshield from her vantage point at the end of the street. She could see one of the guards standing out in front of the steps of Winters’s home. She knew the other one was there, probably on the porch, but he was out of sight at the moment.
She looked at her watch. Noting the time, she opened the door and stepped out of her car. The postal uniform was loose on her, and she immediately realized that her assessment of the mailwoman’s size had been a tad off. It didn’t matter. She could still wear the outfit, and the fact that it was loose allowed her movement to be less restricted.
Adriana shut her car door and trotted around behind the row of buildings on the opposite side of the road from Winters’s house.
The long row of townhouses was connected at the back with a side street that allowed residents access to the rear of their homes where the garages and a few carriage homes lined up from one end to the other.
She’d made a mental note of which building housed the security observation team, and the second she was out of street view she sprinted down the alley until she came to the correct house.
The Omega Project Page 32
