by Tony Batton
"Hit bad," he gasped. "Never saw them. Don't know how..." He trailed off.
"We're sending in the chopper." Truman gave a sharp hand signal to the First Officer. "Stand by."
"Negative. They may have ground-to-air. I'll make my way--" There was the sound of gunfire, then the comms went silent.
Truman smashed his fist onto the desk.
"Orders, Sir?" asked the First Officer. "Are we sending a second strike force?"
"Hold that action. I need to make a call."
Reems gripped his arm. "We need to speak to the Dome: see if we can negotiate."
"They just killed forty of my men. The only person I need to talk to is not in that Dome." Truman walked from the Bridge.
Eighty-Six
TOM EMERGED ONTO SUB LEVEL 12, noting that the stairs didn't go any lower. Bern followed him, carrying the Accumulator in a backpack. Five minutes earlier they had retrieved it from the lab.
"Are you sure that thing is safe?" Tom asked. "I presume it was in that containment chamber for a reason."
"That was for running tests," Bern replied. "As long as we don't activate it, we'll be fine."
"So what are we doing?" Tom asked, feeling his suit itch. "Hiding down here until the cavalry arrive?"
"Something like that. This way."
Tom followed as Bern wound his way through a system of corridors. "You seem awfully sure of yourself."
Bern shrugged. "I'm good at making decisions." He stopped outside an unmarked door. "And you know me, I always have a plan." The room looked like a storeroom. It was filled with several mismatched items of furniture, stacked on top of each other.
"Your decision-making led us to a cupboard."
"They certainly won't look here first. It even has a lock on the door."
"A mechanical one? With a key?"
Bern stepped forward and turned it. "If anyone follows, it will slow them down a bit." He switched on a screen embedded in one wall. A menu appeared and he tapped through layers of icons. A map flashed up, filling the screen, showing the Dome and its surroundings. In the sea to the East there were four red dots, one much larger than the rest.
"What are those?"
"Our friends from the US Navy. Reems said they were close. For once she wasn't lying." Two green triangles appeared and began moving rapidly away from the large red dot, in a sweeping arc around the Dome.
"Jets?" asked Tom.
Bet nodded. "The US will try and force their way in. Leskov will fight back, because that's who he is. At least, he'll fight back for a bit as a precursor to negotiating a way out of the situation. But it doesn't matter. The moment he kills anyone, the US are going to decide they have only one option: to make sure that nobody makes it out of here with this." He patted the backpack. "They think it can be turned into a bomb."
"So they're going to kill us all?"
Bern shrugged.
"You don't seem that bothered."
Bern walked over to a plain section of wall and tapped the top right corner five times. There was a groan and the panel slid back. Inside was a metal cage, similar to a construction lift. It could probably hold five or six people at a squeeze. "We had something very much like this at CERUS Tower. I think you used it."
"An escape route?" Tom asked. "To where?"
"The real question is 'to what?' And the answer is 'to something that Leskov knows nothing about'. He didn't infiltrate my organisation quite as well as he thinks." Bern pointed to the cage. "After you, if you want to live."
Tom climbed in, gripping the metal. It felt warm. The air in the lift shaft was thick with the smell of electric motors and grease. "This has been used recently."
Bern nodded. "Several times today. Now let's get the hell out of here."
Eighty-Seven
TRUMAN WALKED ALONG THE CORRIDOR then down two decks, arriving at a secure conference suite. He closed the door behind him then placed his palm on a desktop reader. When it verified his ID, he placed the call.
An image of CIA Director, Lazlo Banetti, appeared on the large screen, his shaven head gleaming. "We agreed no communications during the operation. This had better be good."
"The situation has... I needed to consult with you."
"Were the President's orders not clear? Recover the tech, or make the situation safe."
Truman shifted in his seat. "I sent a team of forty SEALs in to take control of the facility. They were all killed. We were taken by surprise: they used some form of advanced personal camouflage. It may be the same technology that was used to acquire the Accumulator, and that Bern used to leave his mansion."
"So who is running things?"
"Andrei Leskov, who I'm sure needs no introduction."
"Do you think you can negotiate with him?"
"Not to a deal we'll find palatable."
"And have you verified the presence of the device?"
"Our scanners are detecting trace signatures of the radiation. We have a 98% certainty."
"I'm not hearing anything that impacts your orders. If it's not safe to go onsite, then use the TW."
"Bern and Faraday are there. And, according to Reems, Dominique Lentz as well."
Banetti's brow creased. "Reports said Bern and Faraday were both dead?"
"Reems received a call from Bern, asking for assistance for Faraday and himself. Lentz is here on some mission of her own: Reems seems to have lost control."
"None of them are blameless in this situation. Continue with your orders."
Truman puffed out his cheeks. "Even assuming that Bern, Faraday, and whoever else is there are less important than destroying the Accumulator, maybe we should consider whether this is what Bern wants us to do."
"I don't follow."
"Maybe he wants us to erase the site - don't ask me why. All I can say is that he has a history of forcing extreme courses of action."
"That's absurd. He has no way out - why would he prompt his own death?"
"As I said, I don't know. Even leaving all that aside, Reems won't be easy to contain."
"I'll manage Reems. I'll go over her head to the British Home Secretary. You need to see this through. Call me when it's done."
Eighty-Eight
LENTZ AND KATE EXITED THE stairwell on Sub Level 8. The corridor was deserted. Lentz pointed to the right and they moved along, their boots clanging on the metal walkway floor. Kate pointed at a series of flashing red lights. "What do they mean?"
"Some sort of alarm or warning. Maybe triggered by Bern and Tom." Lentz held up the scanner. "I'm getting a much stronger signal."
"Isn't it odd that they aren't sending more guards to sweep the floors? Did they really think we'd cover the whole building?"
"Maybe they're just moving slowly. Let's not get distracted." Lentz pushed through a set of large metal doors into a technical laboratory. In the centre were five huge vats made of some type of glass: they were connected to each other and various computers by heavy cabling.
"Are those what I think they are?" Kate asked.
Lentz nodded. "Nano vats are inevitable given they've been manufacturing these suits in bulk. It's Resurface technology."
"Not Tantalus?"
Lentz shook her head. "Different type of nanite, different type of vat." Lentz walked over to the nearest computer and logged into the records.
"You can access the computers?" asked Kate.
"Standard CERUS protocols. Clearly they didn't expect me to be on site." She read something on screen and her eyes narrowed. "Goddammit. They did get me to do their work for them."
"What do you mean?"
"We found old records of Resurface in a hidden second safe in Bern's office. Of course, I leapt at the chance to use new technology to solve the problems that stumped us originally, but it was a set up. Someone – probably Hallstein, or whatever her real name is – planted a device on my computer that transmitted the data out to them. The minute I solved the transparency problem, they had the answers too."
"So anyon
e could be here, in this room, and we wouldn't see them?" Kate swung her head around, eyes wide. "Do you have an infrared camera or something?"
"I could rig one up, but it wouldn't help. Infrared is just another form of electromagnetic radiation - the suits would still be all but invisible." Lentz shook her head. "The key words being 'all but' - it's not perfect. If you looked hard enough you'd see the ghost of a reflection. So there's no one else here, Kate." She held out her scanner again and turned to a door in the far side of the room. "Come on. The readings are strongest over there."
In the next room they found a self-contained inner chamber, with steel framing and thick, glittering glass. An access panel hung open. "Whatever I'm reading was in there," Lentz said, holding out her scanner. "The radiation levels are peaking. It's a very strange wave form. Something experimental: I'm guessing the power cell that Tom was supposed to have stolen."
"What?"
"The CIA have Tom down as public enemy number one. It's why Truman came to London to talk to me and Reems, not that he admitted it when he saw us."
"Why would the CIA think Tom had stolen something?"
"Because they have video footage of him taking it. Except it wasn't him. It was almost certainly someone in one of these suits. They didn't have translucency then, but camouflage would have worked. Like when we copied the guards, they copied Tom."
"But why Tom?"
"Why indeed," Lentz said. "There's a hand behind all of this, guiding it."
"Bern?"
"That's what I would have said, but things seem to be going badly for him right now."
"I guess you can't plan for everything."
Lentz felt her phone buzz again. She pulled it out and saw there were ten messages, all from Reems. Lentz blinked and read them: If you are where I think you are, you need to get out. Call me. Lentz coughed and pressed dial.
"You're making a call?" asked Kate. "How on earth are you getting a signal down here?"
"I'm extending off their internal wireless. As I said, I can get a signal anywhere--"
Reems voice crackled out of the phone. "Tell me you're not in the Beta site."
Lentz froze and stared at Kate.
"You think," Reems continued, "you can borrow an SAS plane without me knowing? I tracked you here. I'm on board a US destroyer, just off the coast. I think they're about to drop a bomb on you. A very big bomb."
"What?" Lentz felt her mouth go dry. "We're eight levels down. And Leskov has armed guards all over the upper levels. If we start running past them, they're going to ask questions."
"You need to try."
"There's no way. And Tom is in here. We're trying to find him." Lentz paused. "We're all pretty deep underground. Maybe we'll be OK."
"I wouldn't count on it. I'm sorry, Dominique."
"Truman is doing this to destroy the power cell, isn't he?"
"He says it could be reconfigured as a bomb."
"It was here. I'm in the lab where they were working on it, but it's not here anymore."
"I'm not sure he's going to take your word for it."
"How long do we have?"
"It could only be a few minutes."
"Then I intend to use them." Lentz clicked the phone off.
"They're going to bomb us?" Kate shouted.
"To try and contain their secrets," Lentz said. "Although I don't think it's going to work. In fact, I'm counting on it."
"So we're not going to die?"
Lentz grabbed Kate by the shoulder and marched her back in the direction of the stairwell.
"We're going back up? To try to get out?"
They arrived at the stair-access door. "We'd never make it."
"Then what?"
"We're going down."
Eighty-Nine
TOM CLUNG TO THE SAFETY bar as the metal cage screamed down the tracks. He tried to focus instead on the fact that his suit continued to itch.
The tunnel bored through cold, wet rock. It descended at nearly forty-five degrees, twisting occasionally in the near darkness. The cage turned a sharp corner and they burst into light: not daylight, but illumination from what Tom saw were banks of powerful spotlights. The track levelled out and they slowed down.
They were in a huge cavern, the size of several football pitches: natural from the looks of the walls and roof. Half of the floor was smooth rock, the other half was not floor at all but a vast pool of what, from the pervading tang in the air, must be seawater. A wide channel led away down a tunnel. People wearing different-coloured overalls moved purposefully around the cavern, checking and packing hi-tech equipment. It looked like an evacuation.
Tom noticed this only in passing. Filling the pool - which was really more like a lake - one thing dominated the cavern. It was enormous - a dull grey-white, and constructed of steel. If an article he'd read once was right, it must gross over thirty thousand tonnes.
An aircraft carrier.
"You have to be kidding," Tom said. "Where did you get that?"
"It's an old Russian model," Bern replied. "I stole it from Leskov while it was being sent for a refit. Now it's our way out of here: not just for you and me, of course, but for the whole base staff. With the obvious exception of anyone affiliated with Leskov."
"Are you just going to sail it out?"
"This cavern leads directly to the sea."
"But the Americans will see it."
"We'll negotiate our way past."
A man rushed up. "Mr Bern, you're the last. We have Croft on board."
"Thanks, Brody," Bern said. "What about Fabienne?"
"She's still with Leskov. There was nothing we could do."
Bern shook his head. "Unfortunate, but we are where we are. Now, has our Russian friend sufficiently pissed off our American friends?"
"We believe so."
"Excellent. We should get under way before the bombing starts."
"Bombing?" Tom asked. "What do you mean?"
Brody frowned at him. "Get on board if you don't want to find out first hand."
Bern nodded. "Tom, I said I'd get you out of here and I meant it. Just do what my men say and everything will be fine."
Ninety
REEMS WATCHED AS TRUMAN WALKED back onto the bridge. "Tell me you're not going to do something stupid."
His eyes didn't meet hers. Instead he turned to the First Officer. "Please have someone escort Director Reems to her quarters."
She stabbed a finger in Truman's direction. "You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me."
"Then I'll politely ask you to shut up," Truman said. "I have orders." He turned back to the First Officer. "Ready the TWs."
"A thermobaric weapon?" Reems gasped.
"It's the biggest non-nuke missile we have."
"Two aircraft loaded and standing by, two packages per aircraft," replied the First Officer. "Ready to launch on your order."
"This is mass murder," Reems shouted.
"We're making the world safer."
"It's only in danger because of something you created."
Truman wiped sweat from his brow. "This is not a decision that was reached easily. But it is necessary."
"I managed to speak with Lentz. She said that the Accumulator may not even be on site any longer. This could all be for nothing."
"Our data says differently."
"Maybe you should check again."
Truman shook his head, then nodded to the First Officer. "Launch when ready." The man started giving orders into a headset.
"Did you tell Banetti this was lunacy?" Reems said. "I never liked him. Never understood how he rose so far and so fast."
"Sir," said the First Officer, "we're being hailed by the Dome."
"Put them on."
"Hello, US Navy." It was a man's voice with a Russian accent.
"This is Deputy Director Truman. Why do you want to talk now, Leskov?"
There was an intake of breath and a short pause. "We wish to negotiate terms. We have things you want. You have th
ings we want. So we negotiate."
"After what you did to my team? Negotiation is based on trust."
"You sent an armed team to storm this base. We defended ourselves. Also I have hostages, including William Bern and Tom Faraday."
"Both more dangerous alive than dead."
"You need to calm down, Deputy Director, because I believe--"
"I have only one thing to say: you have three minutes until I bomb your dome." Truman signalled that the call be cut.
"What are you playing at?" Reems asked.
"I'm giving them a chance." He cleared his throat. "Launch the jets. Have them fly directly overhead, but do not drop the TWs. Wait for my order."
"Very good, Sir."
Reems shook her head. "He doesn't believe you. And Bern, Faraday and Lentz are too deep in the base: they'll never get out, even if they get the warning."
"If they all evacuate in a hurry, maybe we won't have to drop the bombs." Truman folded his arms. "We might flush them out, unprepared and disorganised. Then we'll use tear gas and flash bangs to mop them up, camouflaged or not."
A flicker of a smile crossed Reems' face. "You think it will work?"
"Let's hope." He pointed across the water to the aircraft carrier, stationed half a mile from their position. Support crews were swarming away from two aircraft on the flight deck. Sixty seconds later both jets screamed into the air. They banked sharply and flew directly towards the Dome.
Reems nodded and pulled out her phone. "I'm going to try and contact Lentz again, see if I can--"
A huge flash lit up the horizon. Reems clamped her eyes shut. The sound wave hit them a moment later: a sharp, deep, jarring roar.
"I said not to drop!" screamed Truman. "What did they do?"
The First Officer's face was white with confusion. "The jets are confirming a direct hit in accordance with your verbal order."
"What verbal order? Pull them back. Abort!"
"They're not responding. They're circling again for a second strike."
