Ripple (Breakthrough Book 4)

by Michael C. Grumley

  As he stood up and turned off the light, Peng and his men watched Lam suspiciously in the darkness. His pale skin highlighted his dark eyes.

  It was their fault, he thought. He’d had the girl within his grasp. It was their fault she’d gotten away. And now their opportunity was rapidly diminishing––and with it, Lam’s growing certainty that he was needed only to track the girl and nothing more. They were using him…like a dog. And would soon simply dispose of him.

  But Lam had plans of his own. He was not going back to prison. He would get the girl, and he would have his revenge. No matter what it took.

  Even if he had to kill Peng and every single one of his men to do it.

  ***

  Li Na fell hard onto her knees in the wet mud, eagerly lunging down to the small running stream in front of her. With cupped hands, she repeatedly brought the cool water up to her mouth and gulped it down. She paused with her eyes closed, savoring the liquid before seeking more again and again.

  She hadn’t passed water in hours and was beginning to feel like she was overheating. Barely able to concentrate, she couldn’t tell how fast she was moving or whether she was still headed in the right direction. Instinctually, it felt like she was, but the forest was becoming harder to navigate. Increasingly dense trees all around her acted more like walls, blotting out any visibility of her desired direction ahead. And the smells were getting stronger.

  The wind had also picked up considerably, bringing more smells from every direction. As if she’d walked through a cloud of odorants. Some were pleasant, reminding her of flowers or pollen. Yet others were disgusting, smelling of decay. Then there were a few she didn’t even recognize.

  Even through her fragmented thoughts, one that kept coming back was that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Everything seemed to be malfunctioning. Her nose, her ears, and even her sense of touch was becoming so sensitive. Now, it was almost painful to touch things with her fingers.

  Another splash of cold water on her face seemed to briefly bring her out of it. Familiar and refreshing. Revitalizing.

  She held her breath and tried to listen through the rustling leaves behind her. Even the thicker pine needles seemed to flitter noisily through the air before hitting the ground.

  To make matters worse, she was out of food. She searched her satchel again, praying she’d missed something. But she hadn’t.

  Her mind switched again and she peered up, trying to locate the sun. Then she looked forward, trying to guess how much further Shenyang was. Her eyes darted to her hands, dirty and worn. She rubbed her fingers together tenderly when it finally hit her.

  She wasn’t delirious. She was getting sick. It explained why she couldn’t concentrate, why her head felt tired and hot. She must have caught something. But what? What could she have caught out here? God, why her?!

  Li Na began to cry and slumped helplessly to one side, resting in a cold patch of mud.

  In some moments like this, she couldn’t even remember why she was headed to Shenyang, or why she was running at all. It was those thoughts that left her feeling the worst. An utterly helpless dread, crashing each time like a wave over her tired body.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go on anymore. They were still behind her, and they wouldn’t give up. Her father had warned her about them in his letter. They would keep coming for her as long as she was alive. So, all she was doing was delaying the inevitable.

  Li Na broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. They would never give up, and she would never be safe. She was going to die, just like her parents had. Alone, in the middle of nowhere.

  Then it happened.

  A sound so soft and so deep that it didn’t even feel like noise. It was a profound and deep-seated reverberation.

  She raised her head and peered past a set of thick tree trunks, through teary eyes. A beam of sunlight managed to penetrate the canopy above and reach the forest floor. It left the spot engulfed, even if only for a moment, in a broad golden beam.

  Tiny insects were temporarily silhouetted as they flittered back and forth in front of the light. But it wasn’t seeing them that caused Li Na’s jaw to slowly open. It was that she could hear them.

  She could hear their clicking and buzzing. Not just from those she could see but from all around her. The girl was completely enveloped within the life of the forest.

  It was the teenager’s last lucid thought before she lost consciousness.

  70

  “Still?”

  “Yep. They’re still looking for her.”

  Neely Lawton leaned in closer behind Will Borger, studying the screen on his laptop. It was filled with windows of cryptic text. “How can you tell?”

  “I can see it. Through the activity in these logs. Search strings and pieces of text within their results. They’re still searching. If they’d found her, we’d know it.”

  “Any sign of your hacker friend?”

  Borger grimaced slightly and shook his head. “I don’t think anyone wants a friend like that. But no. Nothing. It’s very strange. And there’s just so much we don’t know.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Neely straightened. “If that teenage girl is going through what I think she is…none of them have very much time.”

  The room fell silent while they remained staring at the screen, both thinking. It felt like things were continuing to unravel with so many events and relationships that they had no control over. And every new person affected only caused the ripple to grow larger.

  The silence was interrupted by a loud chime on Lawton’s computer. She rolled her chair back to the other table and tapped her own keyboard. She studied it for several long seconds.

  “Hmm.”

  “What is it?”

  “A message from my team. The ones I was working with onboard the Bowditch.” She looked at Borger. “We were in the middle of a large project when we’d gotten the orders from Admiral Langford.”

  “Some kind of sonar array, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “A new full-spectrum system. Interlinked and much more sensitive than anything a sub or ship could do.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  She shook her head. “No, they’re still working on it and picking up some false positives, probably from the Pathfinder. It’s not unusual since we’re still fine-tuning some of the interferometer coding, allowing us to combine different wavelengths and magnifying the sensitivity to––”

  Borger grinned. “Oh, I’m familiar with interferometry. That’s how we first found that giant ring underwater.”

  “Then you know how touchy it can be.”

  At this, Borger chuckled. “I would say touchy is putting it mildly.”

  Neely nodded, her eyes sharing in the humor, and turned back to her screen. They still had a long way to go before the sonar project would be complete. And it would take at least a year or two after that to get it tuned properly. But when it was done, what they would be able to detect underwater was going to be one of the biggest achievements in naval history. Somewhat equivalent, from a military standpoint, to what Alison and her team had done with IMIS.

  If they could only eliminate the false alarms.

  71

  “Well, Mister Borger, any more news on our missing hacker?”

  Borger shook his head. “No, Admiral. Not that I can find. Everything has been scrubbed. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Langford and Miller remained quiet. Unfortunately, they had seen things like it. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it meant someone had been very deliberately erased. Almost always because they knew too much. The modern world wanted to believe things were different now. That the world was less…barbaric. But it wasn’t true. For all of today’s political correctness, the sad truth was that it was only a veneer. Terrible things were still happening. Everywhere.

  “Commander Lawton,” Langford said, changing the subject. Neely became slightly more erect in her chair next to Will and Alison, the latter
still with wet hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Just as expected, sir. The plants have the same replication characteristics and suspension of telomere growth. And unlike the Chinese bacterium, it is proving more stable.”

  “So the plants are more valuable than the bacteria?” Miller asked.

  “Correct.” Neely glanced at Borger next to her, then to Alison sitting to his left. Both nodded subtly at Neely. “And, sir,” she said slowly, “there’s something else.”

  “Of course there is,” replied Langford, with tired eyes. “We obviously don’t have enough problems.”

  Neely shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure I would characterize this as a problem. I would say it’s more of a development.”

  Langford grinned at her tact. “Okay, Commander. What is our development?”

  “It’s the engineering team, sir. They’ve been spending quite a bit of time in the water. Beneath the surface. Studying the alien ship.”

  “I should hope so.”

  Neely glanced at the others again. “Sir, the men are displaying measurable signs of physical…alteration.”

  “Alteration?”

  “Changes, sir.”

  “What kind of changes?”

  “Subtle changes. The elements we found in South Africa are also present here. In the water. The dive teams are being exposed to it. And even a much smaller dosage appears to be affecting them.”

  “For example?”

  “Some of their gray hair is turning back to its original color. Eyesight is improving, plus a few other things.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  Neely shook her head onscreen. “No, sir. This is what I meant about a more organic effect. It’s slower than what we saw with the Chinese bacteria.”

  “Are you telling me,” Langford said. “That those guys are getting younger?!”

  “I’m not sure about younger, but certainly stronger,” Neely acknowledged.

  “And what about this overheating brain problem?”

  “So far the team is showing no symptoms indicating that. Though to be honest, if they were, I’m not sure we would be able to detect it yet. Not until the problem is much more acute. But I don’t think it’s happening.”

  “How do we know?” Miller pressed.

  “For starters, the men’s sleep cycles are getting longer, not shorter.”

  Langford considered her words, thoughtfully. “Okay. So how many of these plants do we have underwater?”

  Neely paused, slightly unsure of his question. It was Borger who answered.

  “Too many to hide, Admiral.”

  “Naturally,” the admiral nodded. “And how about our ship?”

  “The new drill is ready, sir. We should be able to have it in the water in a few hours.”

  “Good. Let’s hope it tells us something new. I should probably also tell you that we’re running out of time, sooner than we hoped. Our story about the Valant’s mechanical problems is beginning to garner a lot of attention from construction companies offering to ‘help’ the government out.”

  Borger grinned. “For a very high hourly rate, I would guess.”

  “You’d be right. Unfortunately, the more attention we get, the more cracks begin to appear in our story. We need to figure out what we’re going to do about both those plants and the ship.”

  The three grimaced almost in unison. Coming up with a solution was going to be a Herculean task. It wasn’t as though either could simply be hidden, or moved. And if they couldn’t hide it, it was simply a matter of time before someone else figured it out. And came looking.

  72

  Captain Zhirov stood motionlessly in the control room with his legs apart and both hands behind his back. Moderately lit, the room was lined by monitors and manned by some of the finest men Russia had to offer. Overhead, a mechanical ceiling of countless gray piping and instruments snaked above them.

  They were now only fifteen kilometers away, and Zhirov had just given the order to slow the Russian Ghost sub down to a crawl.

  The American science vessel still had sonar so if their captain was worth anything at all, he’d be constantly monitoring for anyone or anything trying to get close. And the Russian sub was quietest under five knots.

  According to the information given to Zhirov, the American captain’s name was Emerson––a man who had served most of his career skippering larger Navy warships, no doubt honing his skills and intuition. The fact that he chose to spend his sunset command on the open sea told Zhirov everything he needed to know about where Emerson felt most comfortable.

  This captain was a man who lived and breathed the ocean, and the military. There was little doubt in Zhirov’s mind that he was seasoned. And given what Emerson was now hiding on behalf of his country, he would likely be ready for anything.

  The battle instinct in Zhirov caused his lips to part into a thin grin. He relished the thrill of combat in any form but none more than warfare at sea. The entire journey gave him an intense sense of satisfaction––from the slow, quiet stalking through the dark and cold foreboding waters, to the uncertainty of the victor until the final moments.

  Zhirov’s grin promptly faded when he felt the trembling in his hand again, still hidden behind his back. If the older Belov was right about what was aboard that science ship, it could save him from a future that would be as inevitable as it was torturous.

  If he was right.

  Yet one thing that still puzzled Zhirov was Belov himself. The man was already in control of a vast fortune and now, thanks to Zhirov, free from the tyrannical clutches of their ruthless government.

  He could have found any one of a dozen ways out of Russia long ago. It made no sense for him to stay. Unless he was hoping to position himself inside what was left of the Russian government when it finally collapsed.

  To Zhirov, it was a foolish gamble. The risks were far too great, as Belov himself had found out rather abruptly. No, there was something else in the man’s pursuit of the American’s discovery. Something even more than what he had confessed to Zhirov. A hidden agenda that the Russian captain could sense but not yet discern.

  Deep down, Dima Belov was an enigma.

  Zhirov reached around with his other hand and checked his watch, fighting to keep his excitement in check.

  Just a few hours left.

  ***

  Sergeant Popov looked at the four men on his left. Each one exhibited a muscular build and wore the same look of grim determination.

  “Go.”

  Junior Sergeant Levin spoke up without the slightest inflection in his voice. “Reach and secure the first platform. Wait for mark at nineteen-thirty. Ascend and secure each level to control room. Disable communications. Any signs of aggression to be eliminated. Beginning on your mark from the ship, we take all levels, including the pad.”

  Popov nodded. Levin’s summary sounded almost trite. But the truth was that it wouldn’t be easy. Once Levin and his men located and confined all members of the oil rig, each would then have to secure a level, ensuring a clear path to the top. There, the aircraft would land to receive their cargo. Given how little time Popov and his own men would have to take the science ship itself and make it back, their path to the top of the rig had to be clear––because the backup plan for both of their teams had a much lower chance of success and survivability.

  At least they knew what they were dealing with aboard the Valant oil rig. All they needed was a very small team, few munitions or weapons expected, and passageways that were easy to use as bottlenecks.

  The Pathfinder ship was a different story.

  They knew about the transfers back and forth from the rig to the science vessel, although Belov himself confirmed that the ship was where their prize still lay. Or prizes. And military ships, even science vessels, carried munitions with well-trained crewmembers. Most U.S. Navy science ships had a round-the-clock security detail of three to four men, likely armed with M-16s.

  Taking them out would be hard enough,
but if the Spetsnaz team was forced to turn to one of their backup plans, things were going to get messy. For everyone.

  73

  “Easy!”

  Elgin Tay pulled hard on one of the stabilizing lines, helping to slow the drill after a large swell rocked the Pathfinder from side to side. The roll caused the giant piece of machinery to sway, its tip missing the edge of the ship’s stern by less than a foot. Tay and his men desperately shuffled their feet, trying to maintain their footing as the steel deck was splashed by wave after wave of warm saltwater.

  Tay shouted, hands gripping the line like a vice, and arched his short frame away for leverage. “Wait ‘til it steadies and be ready to drop!”

  Smitty nodded from several feet away with one hand on the winch controls. Lightfoot was on the other side, near the edge, trying to control the thick black power cable attached to the top of the drill.

  It wasn’t the waves they were worried about. They had dropped their remote vehicles in far worse conditions. It was the drill itself. If the tip hit anything on the ship, the damage could be irreparable. And with their custom designed bit, there were no spare parts.

  Fully assembled, the thing was monstrous, almost six feet across at the back where the powerful electric motor resided. A motor so powerful that if they were to unleash its full potential, it would literally rip the rest of the drill into pieces.

  If this couldn’t open a hole in the alien hull, nothing would.

  Tay’s men waited for a break in the swells. When the ship was level enough, Smitty used the controls to extend the winch’s hydraulic arm further out over the water, where the steel arm strained under the excessive weight of the drill.

  Tay raised his hand over his head, watching the approaching swells. After another, more mild, rock of the ship, they reached the trough and Tay dropped his hand. Smitty instantly lowered the drill, sending it splashing into the beginning of the next crest.