The Unknown

by Brett Battles

  Instead of yelling at him, Quinn turned on his comm mic. “Where are you going?”

  “To get a rifle.”

  “Stop.”

  Kincaid put on the brakes and looked back.

  “We’re not doing anything until he reaches us,” Quinn said. “And no one’s going to shoot him unless absolutely necessary. So we don’t need the rifle.”

  “What if he changes direction and doesn’t come this way?” Kincaid argued.

  “Then we see where he goes.”

  “Kind of looks to me like he’s talking to himself,” Daeng said, still watching the man.

  Quinn raised his binoculars again. “Anyone see a radio?”

  “If he’s using one,” Daeng said, “I feel sorry for whoever’s on the other end. The guy does not look happy.”

  Grigory growled as he plodded through the desert, wondering how this had become his fate. He had done nothing wrong, quite the contrary. If not for him, setting up Eric Ferber and kidnapping Brunner would have never happened. His involvement had been instrumental.

  And this was how he was thanked?

  “That ungrateful asshole,” he said. “He should be on his knees, begging me to stay!”

  Grigory was not one who usually talked to himself, but he was livid.

  “The goddamned arrogant asshole. Terminate me? I’m the asset here, not him. If anyone should be put down, it’s him.”

  The more he railed against Nesterov, the slower his pace became, until finally he stopped and looked back toward Lonely Rock and the hidden entrance to the emergency tunnel.

  To hell with this bullshit.

  He wasn’t changing his life for anyone, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to be held responsible for Tiana’s death, either.

  He was the one who should be calling the shots.

  He discarded the unnecessary weight and raced back the way he’d come.

  “Oooookay,” Daeng said. “That was unexpected.”

  Quinn said nothing, but he agreed.

  The kidnapper had stopped and looked back at Lonely Rock. Then he dropped his bag and ran toward the formation.

  “If we had the rifle…” Kincaid mumbled.

  “You still wouldn’t have fired,” Quinn said.

  A groan from the bodyguard.

  The men watched the kidnapper hurry all the way back to the rocks. The guy then moved around one of the boulders and seemed to slide down into it.

  “There’s the entrance,” Nate said.

  Quinn kept his binoculars aimed at the formation, but the man did not reappear.

  “He’s not a small guy,” Daeng said. “Whatever access way he’s using, we should all be able to fit.”

  “I don’t see any washes,” Nate said. “But if we keep a tight line, we should be able to keep Lonely Rock between us and the airfield.”

  Quinn lowered the binoculars. “Let’s gear up.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Orlando clicked on her mic. “Orlando for Jar.”

  Jar responded almost immediately, but her signal was choppy again.

  “I’m not reading you,” Orlando said. “You need another relay.”

  Jar said something that Orlando hoped meant hold on. Then, several seconds later, “How about now?”

  “Better,” Orlando replied.

  “Did you find Brunner?”

  “Not exactly. But I did find an area where there are holding cells. There’s a guard out front of one of the hallways, so they’ve got at least one prisoner in there.”

  “Am I close to it?”

  “Mmm, close-ish. You’re going to have to go another hundred meters down the corridor, to an intersection that has a sign with some Cyrillic letters and the number five-zero-six. Then you’ll go left.”

  “I should be almost to the intersection now.”

  Orlando scowled. “Jar, I thought I told you to stay where you were.”

  “It is okay. I did not have to use the corridor. The rooms along it are interconnected. They are not being used.”

  “Not the ones you’ve been in so far.”

  “Of course, not those. That is obvious.”

  Orlando had forgotten to use her Jar filter again. “Look, I know you’ve got this. I just need you to inform me before you do something like this again.”

  “I will. I apologize for not doing so before.”

  “Don’t apologize. Just don’t do it again. Now let’s figure out exactly where you are.”

  Jar moved down the aisle, looking for the next corridor entrance. When she found it, she also discovered that the room ended about five meters farther on, and unlike before, there was no interconnecting door. The aisle did, however, appear to take a ninety-degree left turn. She bypassed the door to see if she was correct.

  She was. The aisle continued in the new direction into the darkness. If her hunch was correct, it now paralleled the hallway Orlando wanted her to take.

  “I’m not seeing any of the doors move,” Orlando said. “Did you try already?”

  “Sorry. One moment.” Jar hurried back to the corridor entrance. “Opening it now. I am one hundred percent sure it will be the one right before the intersection.”

  Jar inched the door open just enough for Orlando to see it on the nearby security camera.

  “You were right,” Orlando said. “You’re only a few meters from the turn.”

  “Yes, I know.” Jar explained what she’d discovered concerning the change of direction in the room.

  “So, it’s a big L?”

  Because the Thai and the English alphabets were completely different, it took Jar a second to make the connection. “Yes. Except flipped backwards and upside down.”

  “Perfect. Then I think you should keep riding this path for as long as possible.”

  Jar knew this was only a figure of speech. She’d heard something similar before, and was aware she wasn’t supposed to actually ride anything. Still, it was a perfect example of why figures of speech were confusing.

  “The next intersection is about sixty meters away,” Orlando said. “It’s a T-bone, with the new corridor going off to the right, so if you miscalculate, you have the potential for passing right by it. There’s some people in that area right now, so I’ll have to guide you through when you get there.”

  “Copy. I will let you know when I am close.”

  “Don’t forget your relays.”

  “I will not.”

  What Jar didn’t say was that she was down to her last three. Hopefully, they would be enough to get her near Brunner. If not, she’d worry about that then.

  She set off again, taking the L turn to the left and proceeding to the next doorway. Like with the other doors, the narrow window was dark. She pulled it open, stepped through, and scanned the new space.

  This was not another storage room. In place of the metal shelves and the boxes, bunk beds occupied the room. They rose three beds high and sat side by side, with only enough space between bunks for someone to stand.

  The urge to douse her flashlight rushed through her, but Jar resisted. The mattresses nearest her were bare, and she didn’t hear any breathing other than her own. She crossed the space, eyeing each bunk in case it was in use, but reached the door at the far end without seeing anyone.

  Finally, a door different than the others, but not in a good way. This one was missing a window, so she couldn’t tell whether or not there were any lights on in the next space.

  She turned off her flashlight and gave her eyes a few moments to adjust. The room was dark, but not pitch-black. A small line of light seeped under the corridor doorway, just enough for her to make out the end of the closest bunk.

  No light came from under the door she was standing next to, however. Either it was dark on the other side or the door had a good seal at the bottom. Neither possibility was more likely than the other.

  She pulled out the Glock, attached the sound suppressor to the muzzle, and her flashlight into a clip on the barrel. For now, she left
the light off.

  She pushed down on the door handle, and pulled the door until it barely cleared the jamb.

  Light spilled through the crack. After the initial glare wore off, she realized the light wasn’t particularly strong.

  She turned her ear to the opening.

  Rhythmic, heavy breathing. Someone sleeping.

  Not just one person. Like a chorus singing softly in the background of a lead vocalist’s solo, other sleepers were there, too.

  Why was there a light on? Was someone still awake?

  Since there had been no reaction to her easing the door open, she widened the gap until she could peek through.

  Bunks again, many with the lumpy forms of people stretched out on them. The light was coming from a bottom bunk about halfway across the room. She watched for movement, but didn’t see any.

  She could either sneak across the room or go out into the main corridor. If she ran into trouble out there, it would likely trigger a base-wide alert. Though the same was potentially true about the bunk room, at least there she would have a chance at controlling the situation.

  Crouching, she crept into the lit room.

  No sudden movements or shouts of discovery.

  So far, so good.

  She closed the door with barely a sound, then faced the bunks.

  The loud sleeper was on one of the upper beds, two or three sets in. The others must have been used to his snores or too exhausted to care, because the noise didn’t seem to be interrupting anyone’s sleep.

  Jar moved along the front of the bunks, staying as low as she could. A bunk away from the one the light came from, she paused and rose just enough to see the bed in question. A lamp clipped to the bunk’s post shone down on a person stretched out with a book lying on his chest and his eyes closed.

  She slipped past his bunk, alert for any changes in his breathing, and made it almost to the end of the room before she heard him take in a sharp breath through his nose.

  She froze, her gun ready. But while the metal braces of his bunk squeaked, the noise was not followed by his voice. Instead, there was a click and the light went out.

  Jar held her position, giving the man a half-minute to fall asleep. She would have liked to give him more time, but that was all she could afford.

  She continued to the door on the other side of the room.

  Again, there was no window. When she opened it, though, no light rushed through the opening.

  It turned out to be a large communal bathroom, and on the opposite wall was a doorway to another bunk room. This one, like the very first she’d entered, was empty with beds stripped.

  From her estimation, she was very close to the T-bone intersection. She activated a new relay.

  “Jar for Orlando.”

  “There you are,” Orlando said, with what sounded like relief. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I told you not to forget your relays.”

  “I did not forget. I am still within range of the last one, since it is linking to the one I just turned on, but I heard nothing. It must be the walls again.”

  “Then you’ll need to place them more frequently.”

  Jar paused. “That should solve the problem.”

  She knew she should tell Orlando she had only two left, but Orlando would tell her to go no farther. Jar still thought the two relays would get her where she wanted to go. And if not, they would get her close. She could check the area and move back into range to report her findings.

  “Where are you now?”

  “I should be near the intersection,” Jar said.

  “Good. The hallway’s clear at the moment. Open a door and let me see where you are.”

  “Copy.”

  Jar walked over to the door leading to the corridor and opened it a few centimeters.

  It took Orlando a few seconds to answer. “You’ve gone too far, but not by much.”

  This annoyed Jar. She usually was very good at judging distances, and had not even considered the possibility she had passed the corridor. The room of sleeping soldiers must have thrown her off.

  “If you go back to the previous door, you’ll be right there.”

  That would be back in the room with the sleepers. “It would be better for me to enter the corridor here, if that is possible.”

  “All right,” Orlando said. “When I give you the word, enter the corridor, go right, and then left at the intersection. It’s about ten meters away.”

  “Copy.”

  “Once you’re in that corridor, I want you to keep going until I tell you to stop. When I do, there will be a door on your left. Go through it.”

  “Copy.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  A pause, then, “Okay, you’re clear. Go.”

  By the time Quinn reached the Land Cruiser, Nate already had the back open and was pulling out their gear bags. Everything had been distributed into six backpacks on the drive from Ketovo. Jar had hers with her, leaving one each for the rest of them. Each pack contained at least one weapon, ammo, sound suppressor, two flash-bang grenades, and night vision goggles. The more specialized gear was given to whoever seemed most appropriate to carry it.

  Nate strapped his pack over his shoulders, then searched through the others until he found the one he wanted and held it out to Quinn. “Here you go.”

  Quinn pulled his on. He peered through the back of the SUV at Orlando, still sitting in the front passenger seat. “Time to go,” he said.

  “Just a minute,” she told him, then said something into her mic.

  Daeng and Kincaid arrived a moment later and donned their loads.

  “What about that?” Kincaid asked, nodding at the rifle bag still in the back.

  “I doubt there will be much use for it where we’re going,” Quinn replied. “But if you want to carry it, be my guest.” The weapon was intended for long distances, something he suspected they wouldn’t find much of in the underground base.

  Kincaid grabbed the soft-sided case and slung the strap over his shoulder. “Just in case,” he said.

  Quinn picked up the remaining pack and circled around to the passenger side. He tapped on the window next to Orlando and pulled open the door.

  “Almost done,” she told him, and into her mic, “Keep going, you’re almost there…yeah, that’s the one. It should be a maintenance passageway. Go down that until you come to a door marked 90-214. We’re heading out so I won’t be able to follow you on the cameras. I’ll still be on the comm, though, so when you reach the door, let me know.” She listened for a moment. “Copy. Stay safe.”

  As she closed her computer, Quinn held out her bag, strap side toward him. She unzipped the opening to one of the sections and slipped her computer inside. Once it was closed again, Quinn moved out of the way so she could exit the car, then he turned the bag around and helped her put it on.

  “Everyone ready?” he said, looking at the others.

  Nods all around.

  They started out on a course that paralleled the valley, until they reached the point where Lonely Rock completely blocked out the airfield.

  “Stay in line and keep low,” Quinn said.

  They descended into the valley, Quinn in the lead. Here and there they ran across a dip in the land, but otherwise it was fairly smooth.

  A little ways past the halfway point, he looked over his shoulder and waved for Nate to join him.

  When he had, Quinn said, “You up for taking a little detour?”

  “You want the bag.”

  “I do.”

  “I’m on it.”

  As the others proceeded on course, Nate angled off toward the spot where the kidnapper had dropped his bag.

  Ten minutes later, Quinn and the others reached Lonely Rock. While they waited for Nate, Quinn and Daeng located the path through the rocks they’d need to take to reach the hidden base entrance, then returned to Orlando and Kincaid.

  Nate arrived two minutes later and dropped the bag on the ground
. “Shall I?” he asked.

  “Please,” Quinn said.

  Nate unzipped the bag and parted the sides so everyone could see. Inside were food, water, some clothing items, and what appeared to be a sleeping bag. Nate pushed things around, feeling through the rest of the space.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “Really?” Daeng asked.

  “Was he going camping or something?” Kincaid asked.

  “Looks to me more like he was running away,” Nate said.

  “Or he was forced to leave,” Orlando said.

  Whatever the case, the guy had apparently changed his mind.

  “The way in’s over here,” Quinn said.

  He led his team to a triangular crawlway created by one of the rocks leaning against another.

  Quinn went first. At the end was a chamber much like one Nate had described at the vent location, only this one was large enough to fit all five of them. It was even tall enough for Orlando to stand in, though the others had to hunch over. The actual entrance looked like the manhole covers found in most cities‚ the metal disc sitting in a concrete housing.

  The only things missing were the holes in the lid used to pull it up. Quinn guessed there was some kind of mechanism to raise and lower it.

  “That asshole got it open,” Kincaid said. “There’s got to be a way we can do it, too.”

  “Or maybe he left it open when he crawled out,” Nate said. “The cord will probably burn through it.”

  “Get it,” Quinn said.

  While Nate pulled the high-intensity incendiary cord from his pack, Quinn knelt down and pushed on the disc. Much to his surprise, it bounced a little.

  “Hold off on that,” he said to Nate. “I think it might be unlocked.”

  He tried to bounce it high enough for them to jam the edge open, but that proved difficult. Maybe if they had all day, they would get lucky, but clearly bouncing was not the answer.

  They ended up using a bit of the cord after all, and created two nickel-sized holes through which they threaded a wire, which in turn they used to pull through the end of one of their ropes.

  “Let me try,” Kincaid said.