by David Meyer
Carrie walked to the leftmost area. She marched past some workers and took up position at an isolated computer. Without hesitation, she began typing on the keyboard.
The rest of us lingered near her. Graham pretended to type on a nearby computer. Benigno, head held low, strode to the back wall and scanned some environmental posters. Beverly knelt in front of the tables and worked her laces as if retying her boots. Meanwhile, I sidled up to Carrie.
“These computers oversee non-flight operations.” She pecked at the keyboard. The screen shifted and I saw information about inner temperature, maintenance requests, cleaning schedules, and pantry inventories. “Just give me a minute.”
Doors banged. Twisting my head, I saw a number of guards march into the hangar. My brow tightened. “Hurry up,” I whispered.
“Almost done.” Carrie hit more keys. The screen changed. A floor plan appeared. “Okay, this is the first level. Hang on.”
She typed furiously, opening up a series of boxes. As she typed commands into the boxes, I scanned the plan, memorizing it. The hangar took up roughly two-thirds of the floor space. Adjoining it, I saw a separate section lined with hallways. Bunk areas, conference rooms, a maintenance room, a kitchen, a cafeteria, a recreational room, and numerous other spaces occupied it.
The screen changed again and a second floor plan appeared above the first one. “Okay, this is the second level,” she said.
Again, the hangar took up the majority of the space. The rest of it was devoted to offices and conference rooms. One office, which overlooked the hangar’s northwest section, was exceptionally large.
I studied the plans. “If you were Simona, where would you hide prisoners and stolen items?”
“The basement, assuming it exists. Everywhere else would be too accessible.”
“Find it.”
“I’m trying. There’s just one problem.” She frowned. “According to this, there is no basement.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hang on.”
Carrie typed faster, opening still more boxes and typing still more commands.
Rotating my neck, I watched a guard leave the others. He walked to the edge of the computer banks and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Gather around, everyone,” he shouted. “We have a security update.”
“That’s our cue.” Gritting my teeth, I turned to Carrie. “Time to leave before someone realizes we don’t actually work here.”
“One …” She typed in another set of commands. “… second.”
A third level popped up on the screen, just below the first floor. It was labeled Basement. Scanning it, I saw two large cylinders and a boxed-off area. A door rested roughly in the middle of the northeast wall. “Not much detail.” I frowned. “How do we get down there?”
She scanned the screen. “See that?”
I followed her finger to a box. Filled with wavy lines, it sat along the northwest wall. “A stairwell?”
“No. Stairwells are marked with straight lines.” To prove her point, she stabbed her finger at a stairwell on the first floor. “I think it’s an elevator.”
“How do we access it?”
“Well, it’s located here.” She placed her finger on the elevator. Then she moved it to the exact same location on the first floor. “Which matches up to here.”
I arched an eyebrow. “That’s close by.”
She followed my gaze to a giant pillar in the northwest corner. It extended from the ground to the ceiling. “That looks thick enough to hide an elevator.” Glancing at the maps, she shifted her finger to the same spot on the second floor. “The entrance must be here.”
I peered closely at the screen. The gigantic space was marked Office. I didn’t see an elevator, but the room was large enough to fit one. “Simona’s office?”
She nodded.
“Perfect. Let’s go.” I turned to leave.
“Attention, everyone.” A commanding voice, one I hadn’t heard before, rang out. “I need you here right now.”
People rushed toward the voice. Following their movements, I saw Jeremy Pascal. He was short and husky. His hair was tied into a ponytail. Old cuts, healed and recut again, lined his body.
Anger ripped through me. As the head of Simona’s security forces, he was at least partly responsible for countless deaths, including those of Lila, Milt, and Akolo. Their blood was on his hands.
“Hey.” Pascal’s voice dripped with venom. “You guys, the ones in Section A. Get over here or I’ll put you out with the Grueler.”
I clenched my jaw. Shared a glance with Beverly. “We’ll be there in a minute,” I called out.
“Now.”
“We’re just finishing something.”
A short pause followed. “Who the hell are you?”
I reached for my pistol. Took a deep breath.
Let’s do this.
I whirled around. Workers surrounded Pascal, so I aimed my gun above their heads. “The name is Cy Reed.” My jaw hardened. “And I’m about to ruin your day.”
Chapter 67
Still aiming high, I squeezed the trigger. My pistol jerked. A loud bang sounded out. A bullet shot into the air and pinged off the ceiling.
Havoc erupted. Shouting and screaming, people ran for their lives. Many headed deeper into the hangar, taking cover behind the drones. Others aimed for the doors, pushing each other out of the way and creating a small bottleneck.
Peering into the crowd, I saw Pascal. He was pointing and shouting orders to his guards.
Waving at the others, I slipped to the back of the hangar and led the others to the bottleneck. Without hesitating, I slammed into it.
Elbows struck my side. Boots kicked my legs. Waving hands struck my head.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Pascal and his men. They were aiming guns, but couldn’t get a clear shot amidst the chaos.
I fought my way into the doorframe and made room for the others. They slipped by me and then we sprinted down a hallway. The concrete walls, painted metallic silver, looked sleek. They reminded me of a minimalist 1960s version of the future, one filled with automated kitchen devices, pointy spaceships, and flying cars.
Other employees, many dressed in identical jumpsuits, ran alongside us. Their faces were tight. Their eyes were cold. They didn’t give any of us—even me—a second look.
Bullets chewed the air. More screams sounded out. Carrie took the lead and swerved into a corridor.
The gunshots turned louder, more frantic. People threw themselves to the floor. Covered their heads with their hands.
I dove into the corridor. My palms struck smooth concrete. Tucking my head, I rolled and regained my footing.
The gunfire ceased. Footsteps pounded behind us. Other footsteps, a bit softer, slapped the floor somewhere ahead of us. Shouts—full of anger, confusion, and pain—sounded out from all directions.
I recalled the floor plans, the rooms and the access points. Looking ahead, I spotted a door. I was almost positive it led to the stairwell.
Faster. You’ve got to go faster.
Abruptly, the door opened wide. A man, dressed in a guard uniform, emerged from the doorway. He gave me a confused look. “What the—?”
My fist slammed into his jaw. He crumpled to the ground.
I jumped over him and grabbed hold of the door. “In here,” I said.
Guards rushed into the corridor. Rifles lifted in our direction.
Carrie ran into the stairwell. While the others followed her, I twisted around and fired a few shots. As the guards took cover, I hustled into the stairwell and shut the door. Exhaling, I studied the metal surface. But I didn’t see a lock.
I sprinted up the staircase. Beverly edged the door open and we peered outside. The second floor was brightly lit and surprisingly empty.
I listened for the first floor door to open wide, for footsteps to pound up the stairs. But all I heard was silence.
Beverly cleared her throat. “Where to?”
“Simo
na’s office,” I said. “We’ll use her elevator to access the basement. Then we’ll disable the elevator.”
“That’s not much of a plan.”
“It’s better than staying here.”
“Good point.”
Carrie darted forward. As she led us down a hallway, my mind worked in overdrive. With any luck, we’d find Simona in her office. We could capture her, use her for leverage. If not, we’d go straight to the elevator. I was fairly certain the basement connected to the old tunnel system. If so, we just needed to find Rizzalyn and the reliquary and then head for Pagan Bay.
We ran into a reception area. It was empty. Taking a deep breath, Carrie walked to a closed door. She placed her ear against the metal surface. Then she opened the door.
“It’s clear,” she whispered.
I took a quick glimpse down the hallway, making sure no one was behind us. Then I joined the others in Simona’s office. Graham closed the door and engaged the lock.
Frosted glass walls, which overlooked the hangar portion of the research station, allowed a bit of light into the office. Squinting, I saw a couple of leather-backed steel chairs in front of a long aluminum desk. Another chair, outfitted with padded leather, sat behind the desk.
Graham hurried to the elevator and hit the call button. A few moments passed. Then the doors opened and we stepped into the car. Reaching out, he pressed the B button.
Nothing happened.
“What’s that?” Benigno pointed at a lower panel.
“It’s a keyhole.” Graham frowned. “And an electronic keypad.”
“Can you bypass it?” Beverly asked.
“Give me a minute.” Using a small knife, he pried the keypad open. Then he began to fiddle with some wires.
“Cy.” A voice, strong and masculine, rumbled from the hallway. “Get out here!”
Immediately, I recognized the speaker.
Pascal.
I stepped out of the elevator.
“Where are you going?” Graham asked.
“You need time, right?” I took a deep breath. “Well, I’m going to buy you some.”
Chapter 68
Deep in thought, Simona Wolcott paced back and forth in front of the various glass enclosures. Her great plan, her decade-long effort to save the planet, was nearing completion. The prospect absolutely thrilled her.
At the same time, she was apprehensive, maybe even nervous. She prided herself on limiting chaos, on modeling away risks and uncertainties. But life had a funny way of punishing the well prepared.
First, that journalist, Carrie Cooper, had infiltrated Eco-Trek. The Pagan Nation people had showed up unannounced. The Separative had lost faith and sent that so-called modeling expert, Alan Briggs, to pester her. The Nautilus had crashed during its kill run. And then there was that strange helicopter that had tried to land on Pagan.
Of course, she’d dealt with matters effectively and decisively. Carrie Cooper was either dead or would be soon. The Pagan Nation settlers had proven to be valuable experimental subjects. Briggs was dead. The helicopter’s passengers were likely dead as well, victims of either the crash or the ensuing aerosol attack.
Even so, she felt the noose tightening around her neck. Others would come to Pagan, looking for lost loved ones. The Separative would grow even more suspicious when Briggs didn’t return his calls. They’d send other people, maybe even soldiers, to take charge of the research station.
“Simona?”
Spinning on her heel, Simona looked at Dr. Besson. “Yes, Mychelle?”
“Good news. Production is underway. We’re ready to begin loading the first batch of Miasma into the reservoirs.”
Relief swept through Simona. The last major obstacle to her plans was now gone. Project Miasma could, at long last, begin. “Excellent.”
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“Yes.” She paused. “We have.”
“How do you want to celebrate?”
“Excellent question.” Her concerns forgotten, Simona smiled. “We should—”
Her hand vibrated. Her fingers tightened around her satphone. She checked the caller. Then she lifted the device to her ear. “Can this wait? I’m—”
“He’s here,” Pascal said.
“Who’s here? What are you talking about?”
“Remember Cy Reed? The salvage expert Lila hired to dig up the reliquary?”
She gritted her teeth. “You said he died in Israel.”
“I was wrong.”
Her brain whirled as she fit facts together. Reed was still alive. Not only that but he’d somehow tracked the Nautilus to Pagan. “How’d he find us?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m nearly positive he came in on that helicopter.”
“But we shot it down. We smothered the whole area with CN-46.”
“I know.”
She inhaled through her nostrils. “Where is he now?”
Pascal hesitated. “He just stormed into your office.”
Simona closed her eyes. Quietly, she thanked Briggs for his impromptu visit into the tunnels. Without him, she might’ve never realized how careless she’d become with her elevator key. “Stop him. Now.”
“I will. But unfortunately, that’s not the only problem. Our radar has picked up an incoming plane.”
“So?”
“It’s not one of ours.”
She exhaled. “The Separative?”
“Possibly. Regardless, it looks like an advanced military jet. I’m not sure our missile systems will be able to handle it. What do you want me to do?”
Simona quickly considered her options. “Take the Grueler off its leash.”
“Understood.”
With a push of her finger, Simona ended the call. All her apprehensions came racing back. How in the world had Reed survived this long? It was impossible. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the facts.
She shook her head. It was so odd. The very thing that had most likely drawn Reed to Pagan in the first place was also the very thing that had made Project Miasma a reality. Part of her wished she could just give him the reliquary and send him on his way. It wasn’t like she needed it anymore. But Reed would never trust her. Her only option was to kill the man.
This time, he wouldn’t escape his fate.
Unfortunately, Reed was the least of her concerns. Undoubtedly, the incoming jet was filled with armed personnel. They’d storm the station. The Grueler might be able to fight off the first wave. Maybe even a second wave. But eventually, she’d lose control. And once that happened, the truth about Project Miasma would come to light.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. The beautiful thing about Project Miasma was that it didn’t require repeated flights over an extended time period. A single flight from each drone would be sufficient for her purposes. Then it was just a matter of covering her tracks.
Fortunately, she had a special plan to do that. The Imperial Japanese Army had laid the groundwork for it many decades ago. She’d merely updated their work, bringing it into the modern century.
Yes, everything would be fine. In a few hours, Project Miasma would be finished. The station would lie in ruins. And she’d be gone, whisked away to her private compound to prepare for the wonderful future.
“Simona?” Mychelle arched an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” Simona shook her head, clearing the fog. “Please load the reservoirs and alert the crew to begin fueling the onboard tanks.”
“Of course.”
“We’re a little low on time and we may have guests down here in the very near future. So, move quickly. When you’re done, head to Pagan Bay via the tunnel. Take everything that matters.”
Mychelle bit her lip. “You’re scaring me.”
“Do as I say and you’ll be fine. Now go.” Simona took a deep breath. “I’ve got work to do.”
Chapter 69
My heart raced as I cracked the office door and peeked into the reception area.
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It was empty.
I paced to the next door. Cracking it open, I peered outside. The hallway was dark. But I saw a single person, short and dark-skinned, standing in it.
Silently, I extended my gun. Took careful aim. Squeezed the trigger.
With incredible speed, he whipped out his gun and fired a few bullets at my head. I ducked behind the door. Air whipped past my face. Metal projectiles slammed into concrete.
“Hello, Cy.” Pascal’s voice was soft, yet full of malice. “Where are your friends?”
I didn’t answer.
“You know those two people you killed in Israel?” He paused. “Their names were Nick Mickles and Grover Herman. I trained them personally.”
“You didn’t do a very good job,” I called out.
“They weren’t just my pupils. They were my friends.” His voice grew louder. “You killed them. Now, I’m going to kill you.”
“You mean you’re going to ask your cronies to do it.”
“They’re not here.” His voice took on a sly edge. “As far as I’m concerned, this is between you and me.”
A thought occurred to me. Maybe Pascal didn’t realize the full extent of Simona’s geoengineering activities. Maybe he didn’t know about all the people she was hurting with her planes. “Do you understand what’s going on here?” I asked.
He didn’t respond.
“Your boss is trying to engineer the climate,” I said. “And she’s causing floods and desertification in the process. People are dying.”
“So what?”
An icy chill ran through me, followed by a blazing inferno of anger. “Are you serious?”
“Look around. This world of ours is screwed up beyond belief. And it’s our fault. We’ve ravaged the land for power and resources. We’ve waged war, torn down forests, and stripped mountains for minerals. We’ve buried streams, domesticated animals, and fished the life out of the oceans. We’ve battled Mother Nature. And we’ve crushed her like a bug.”
I trained my gun out into the open, keeping it absolutely steady. But I didn’t see him in the shadows. “Not everyone does those things.”
“Maybe not. But they’ve benefitted from them. Or maybe they’ve stood by, allowing them to happen. They’re complicit.”
