“All clear,” Tank said. “Except for the dead body, that is.”
Titan Six entered the office.
“Good God!” exclaimed Madison. “That’s Dr. Henry Garland, my chief assistant.”
The lab coat on Garland’s body was covered with patches of dark red blood. Seated at a computer terminal, his head was tilted back and to the side, mouth open. His arms hung limply by his side.
“Several neat, precise bullet holes in his arms and legs,” Hawkeye said. “And notice his swollen upper lip and the bruises on his face. They tried to interrogate and torture him before they finally shot him in the chest and head. They wanted information.”
“There’s a note scribbled on a legal pad sitting next to the computer screen,” Madison noted.
Hawkeye surveyed the pad, which had splatters of blood on it.
“It says ‘has asked me to cooperate. Will explain later. But’”
“Who asked Garland to cooperate?” Madison asked.
“That part of the note is obscured with blood. He was recording this because he was scared and confused. The note ends abruptly, which is when the Dragons obviously gained access to this office.”
“That’s our working theory,” came the voice of Caine. “Security at Savage Bay was compromised. I’m convinced more than ever that someone let that submarine in.”
“Did Dominique ever speak of such a concern, Doctor?” Hawkeye asked.
“Yes. A few weeks ago she said that Dr. Heidi Boren was acting suspiciously. Dr. Boren is in charge of gene sequencing. Dominique said that she was probably going to ask Boren to be replaced for security reasons.”
“Can you bring up a picture of Boren, Doctor Madison?” Hawkeye asked.
Madison moved to a terminal and tapped a few keys, producing a headshot of a gorgeous blond in her early thirties, with classic Scandinavian features. “No red flags in her file,” Madison declared. “She’s brilliant.”
“It looks as if we need to find two female scientists,” Hawkeye said. “Dominique Caine and Heidi Boren.”
“This is just one computer terminal,” Madison said, “but from what I can tell, the logs indicate that information relevant to Genesis research has been uploaded from several stations.”
Hawkeye rested his hands on his hips. “For now, we need to find the secret access to another part of the complex. After that . . .” He paused. “We need to find Dominique and Boren. Aiko, too, and prevent her and all Genesis research from leaving the base.”
“Exactly,” Caine said.
“That secret access,” Hawkeye said. “Any ideas where it is, Cruz? There’s no door in here. Not even a closet.”
“No. Sorry about that.”
Pyro was already tapping on the walls and worked his way to the one behind Dr. Garland’s mahogany desk. “Sounds hollow.”
“That picture behind the desk,” Hawkeye said. “It’s the only piece of art in here.”
The modern art hanging on the hollow wall was checkered with numerous squares and rectangles, each seeming to glow with an almost electric vibrancy.
“Buttons?” asked Tank.
“Perhaps,” said Hawkeye, who began touching each square as he might touch a keypad.
“There are voices outside this office,” Gator said.
Madison saw a picture of Dr. Garland on the desk. Garland was wearing the colors of his alma mater, Harvard. Crimson and gold. “Tap the crimson and gold squares over and over,” he said.
“Nothing,” Hawkeye said.
“Dragons trying to . . . ” Touchdown’s voice was interrupted by static. “...trying to gain . . . acc . . . access.”
“Tap the crimson twice, then the gold twice,” Madison suggested.
The entire wall slid up.
“Move!” Hawkeye said. “Everybody! Now!”
The team moved into a dark space as the wall automatically slid back down.
“Where the hell are we?” Hawkeye asked, hoping for a reply from the Ops Center.
There was only silence.
Chapter 20
OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
“Pinging a signal off your suits,” Touchdown said. “You’re in yet another corridor, but it leads to dozens of rooms not on any base schematic. Do you copy?”
There was no answer from Titan Six.
In the middle of the Ops Center, the holographic display was once again clear, displaying many rooms deeper in the mountain on Es Vedra. Then the holograph dissolved.
“Do you copy?” Touchdown repeated.
A moment passed. And another.
“We copy,” Hawkeye finally said, “but you’re breaking up. We can hardly — ”
Hawkeye’s voice was garbled and then fell silent.
“We’ve lost them,” Touchdown said. “They’re on their own.”
DUBOIS ESTATE, OUTSIDE LYON, FRANCE
“We have always been concerned with keeping the Code secret,” said the young Venezuelan, whose name was Raymond Abrizzo. “But more people in the general population are becoming aware of the eleven eleven phenomenon. Will anyone make the connection?”
“Most pop metaphysicians believe the number to be a signal of some impending supernatural event or a global epiphany,” Dubois stated. “Their ideas are quite vague.”
All eyes of the Council focused on the pearl inlays of the number eleven.
“The Order has known for countless generations that the number has special significance,” Dubois continued. “The number eleven shows up in sacred texts and the dimensions of various shrines and temples.”
The elderly German man, Klaus Peterson, spoke next. “But even we do not know its full significance. Has Triad made any progress in this area?”
Dubois was well aware that the Order’s own geneticists had not yet made a connection between the number eleven and the Code. It was one of the more frustrating failures they had encountered.
“I’m sure our missing brothers will tell us more about this matter after the Chinese operation at Es Vedra is concluded,” said Dubois.
“Is it true that one of our own is actually at Savage Bay?” asked Abrizzo.
“Dubois smiled wryly. “Yes. One of our brothers is intimately involved in the research at Savage bay.”
TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY
“Ops, this is Hawkeye. Do you copy?”
Static.
“Ops?”
More static.
“Let’s move on,” Hawkeye instructed.
Dr. Madison and the members of Titan Six moved down the corridor, devoid of all light.
“It’s stifling in here,” Gator said. “No ventilation.”
“Switch on your helmet lights,” Hawkeye ordered.
The new corridor was approximately fifteen yards long.
“Single file,” ordered Hawkeye, whose hand touched the rough cinderblock surface to his right.
Long, eerie shadows were cast on the concrete floor by the team’s narrow high-intensity beams. The shadows twisted and turned as if engaging in a macabre dance as the team moved forward.
“I’d heard these passageways existed,” said Madison, “but I don’t think they’ve been used since the United States inhabited the base years ago.”
“Maybe used far more recently,” Shooter said.
Twenty paces farther, Hawkeye stopped in front of a smooth steel door.
“There’s fresh air coming from beneath the bottom of that door,” Pyro said with a certain pride in his voice. “It’s not strong, but I can detect it.
“Glad you got the injections from Dr. Ngyuen?” asked Tank.
“No complaints yet,” Pyro replied.
“Newbies are always so much fun,” Shooter said.
A hand gripped Hawkeye’s shoulder. He whirled in the darkness and drew his sidearm. Maybe they hadn’t been alone.
“Whoa there!” cried Dr. Madison, not equipped with any light source. “I was just coming forward to help open the door.”
Hawkeye let out his
breath. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Doctor. Next time, please announce your intentions.”
The steel door slid up on its own, however, flooding the secret hallway with light.
Two dark-clad commandoes jumped past Hawkeye and Tank and karate-kicked Pyro, Shooter, and Gator, knocking them to the floor. The sound of Titan Six’s gear impacting concrete echoed in the darkness behind them. Hawkeye and Tank whirled around as the Dragons executed their ninja-like moves, but both men were pulled from behind into the lab they had stumbled upon.
In a nanosecond, the men were stripped of their rifles and pistols. The palm of someone’s hand smacked hard against Hawkeye’s jaw, snapping his head back violently. An intense wave of pain, not unlike that of an electric shock, shot through the team leader’s brain. For a brief moment, the lab seemed shrouded in darkness. He then received a boot to the chest. He gasped as he sprawled backwards, landing on the floor, legs in the air.
As Hawkeye was attacked, two firm, flat hands came down on either side of Tank’s neck with brutal force, dropping him to his knees.
Madison rushed past the figures into the lab, searching for a weapon. Grabbing a knife with a shiny eight-inch blade from a white counter, he charged the female figure looming above Hawkeye, who was still dazed.
The slim female Dragon turned and took out Madison with a high leg kick. The scientist reeled backwards, hit his head against a wall-mounted Formica cabinet, and lost his balance. He lay on the floor, his vision blurred.
Hawkeye blinked his eyes and peered up at the Dragon. It was Commander Saturo Aiko. With her ruthless Asian beauty, dark eyes contrasting with the thin white scar running down her left cheek, she gazed down at Hawkeye. Her black hair was cut short, and she wore a slim headset with a Com speaker and high intensity light.
As Hawkeye struggled to his knees, Aiko spun around on one leg and delivered a booted blow to his already throbbing head. He fell once again and lay on his side.
Aiko raised her palm, revealing a black metal rectangle as compact as a smart phone. She clicked a button on the device, and a blue arc of energy shot from Aiko’s palm to Hawkeye’s body. It was plasma energy.
“Damn!” Hawkeye bellowed. “That was — ”
Hawkeye was stunned in more ways than one. Aiko’s slim tactical suit blinked and then began to change colors. She was blending into the color of the wall behind her like a chameleon.
Son of a bitch, Hawkeye thought. I used to think that only Titan Global had such tricks up its sleeves, but this chick has been well outfitted.
Hawkeye attempted to get to his feet, but another lightning fast kick sent him sprawling backwards again. His body was weak from the jolt of the plasma weapon.
Meanwhile, Tank lunged forward, trying to encircle the legs of the male Dragon who had delivered the classic karate chops to his neck. The commando jumped high, knees against his chest, then landed on Tank’s back.
Tank winced as an audible cracking sound emanated from his spine.
Hawkeye looked at his brother through narrowed eyes, his body screaming with renewed pain. They were not in contact with Touchdown, who could have augmented their BioMEMS systems.
Touchdown. Paralyzed. The crack coming from Tank’s back conjured a memory of the mission gone horribly wrong for Touchdown.
Gunfire erupted from the semi-dark hallway. The machine gun’s rapid-fire rounds filled the lab with the sound of thunder. Someone had managed to seize a weapon. Hawkeye tried to prop himself on his elbow to see if he had lost two team members.
Then he blacked out.
Chapter 21
OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
Heavy gunfire once more blared from the speakers in the Ops Center.
“Two Dragons made it onto our Deck Five before it was sealed off,” DJ said. “Off-duty Titan special forces are responding.”
“One of the team members is Inch Deep,” Touchdown said.
Caine turned slowly, puzzlement claiming her features. “Is he crazy? He’s on injured reserve and in no condition to — ”
Caine hesitated, remembering that Inch had torn the meniscus of his right knee and broken his collarbone on the same mission that had seen Touchdown lose the use of his legs.
The best trained fighting force in the world. Yet still so vulnerable.
“His BioMEMS system has been repairing him at a slightly faster rate than Hawkeye calculated,” Touchdown said, showing no indication that the memory of his own injury had been jarred by Caine’s remark. “That having been said, he’s not battle-ready by any means. He could easily re-injure himself.”
The gunfire ceased abruptly.
“Inch is requesting admittance to Ops,” Touchdown said. “Dragons have been subdued on Deck Five.”
“Very well,” Caine said.
An aluminum ladder descended from a chute next to Cruz’s station. Inch slid down the railings on either side of the ladder naval-style and landed on the marble floor.
“Reporting for duty,” said Inch, a munitions expert like Pyro. “Two other Titan soldiers are on Deck Six.”
“What’s it like out there?” Caine asked.
“The assault on the Main Deck has been subdued. No more paratroopers have landed.”
“We appreciate your bravery,” said Caine, “but you must return to your quarters. You’re a valuable resource, a long-term investment that Titan Global has made because of your extraordinary skills. That’s an order. I want your two team members to remain on guard on Deck Six.”
Inch bowed his head to indicate obedience. “You’re the boss. May I ask how badly we were hit?”
It was Touchdown who answered. “Satellite and telemetry on the main mast are compromised. We’ve lost contact with Titan Six. I also can’t reach our repair teams on Deck Four. I’m guessing they were gassed before they could evacuate. They’ll be fuzzy for a while.”
Inch rubbed his unshaven chin. He was a handsome man, standing six-foot-three and weighing one hundred ninety pounds.
“Unfortunate,” he said. “Well, back to my quarters to watch some DVDs of The Discovery Channel.”
“Can you make it back up?” asked Caine.
Inch smiled. “Oh, I can climb ma’am. You can count on that.”
Inch climbed slowly up the ladder.
“Shit!” cried DJ.
“Let me guess,” said Cruz. “More bad news.”
“That would be an understatement,” said DJ. “My instruments show two Dragons descending a service chute in the aft section of the ship.”
Headed where?” asked Caine.
DJ’s response was ominous in tone. “To the engine room. If they’re carrying ordnance . . . ”
“Find two other Titan team members and divert them to the engine room,” said Caine. “And send Alamiranta security forces there as well.”
“Roger that,” said DJ.
“What kind of damage could they do?” Cruz queried.
”This ship is nuclear powered,” said Caine. “They
could wreak havoc.”
“Mrs. Caine, I hate to add insult to injury,” Touchdown said, “but I think you ought to look over here for a moment.”
A lone figure was climbing the steel rigging above the Main Deck, headed for the radar, satellite, and telemetry packages on the high-tech mast.
“It’s Inch,” said Touchdown.
“There,” said Cruz, pointing to Touchdown’s main screen. “He’s not alone. Look.”
A Dragon was scaling the steel rigging five meters below Inch.
TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY
“Come on, Hawkeye. Wake up.”
It was Gator, hovering over his team leader.
Hawkeye opened his eyes. He could feel the adrenaline from his BioMEMS beginning to give his body renewed energy. And pain relief, although his muscles were still sore and his head felt as if it had taken a Nolan Ryan fastball. If he was in contact with the Ops Center, Touchdown could augment his BioMEMS system with a few extra nutrients, proteins, and
enzymes. He lifted himself to his elbows and looked around the lab.
“Aiko and her Dragon,” Hawkeye said. “Where are they?”
“They hightailed it out the door when they saw we were packing some kick-ass weapons,” Gator said. “The other two Dragons in the dark corridor are dead, as in really dead.”
“Hand-to-hand combat,” Pyro said. “Fierce. Three against two, with those first two whipping our asses. But Gator was able to get a hand on his SAW. After that — no contest.”
Shooter knelt next to Dr. Madison, offering him bottled water.
“I’m not sure if I can get up,” Tank said. “My back.”
The blood drained from Hawkeye’s face. Paralysis? Again?
Tank slowly rolled over and struggled to his hands and knees. “Not the kind of chiropractic treatment one hopes for.”
Hawkeye let out a sigh of relief.
“Hello,” said a tall, thin man standing at the threshold to the corridor the team had traversed. “Having a bit of a scuffle, I see. Everyone alright?” He spoke with an English accent.
“Who are you?” Hawkeye asked bluntly.
“To use the vernacular of your American cowboy films, I’m the cavalry,” he said. “It appears I have arrived a minute too late. Terribly sorry about that.”
“Where the hell did you come from?” Hawkeye said.
“Safe Room Six,” said the Brit. “The hall is pretty dark, which is why you passed the door. Care for tea?”
ABOVE THE MAIN DECK, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
Inch’s shoulder pulsed with pain as he scaled the white steel mast. There were ample metal bars protruding from both sides of the vertical beam to allow repair crews access to the scientific instruments at the top. For Inch, each step represented an exercise in agony. Dr. Nguyen had informed him that the cartilage in his right knee was mending nicely thanks to her nanobot injections. Well, he would have to apologize to his personal physician for violating bed rest orders.
“Inch, can you hear me,” said Touchdown. “There’s a Dragon beneath you. He’s gaining.”
Inch wasn’t wearing his helmet. He did not sense the stealthy combatant below until a hand grabbed his right ankle.
Savage Bay Page 13
