by Bob Mayer
Fort Campbell
_7:50 P.M._ On the southern end of the main post of Fort Campbell is an area known as Old Clarksville Base. Surrounded by a one-lane tar road and a rusting fence, it presently contained the headquarters for the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment and, nestled in one corner, the post's ammunition storage facility. Decades ago, though, Old Clarksville Base had served another purpose; it was a nuclear weapons storage facility. Massive bunkers were built into the sides of ridges throughout the area, along with numerous concrete pillboxes that had once held marine guards. Plant life now camouflaged the structures. Sergeant Major Powers had the lights of his pickup truck pointed at the front of one of the abandoned bunkers. He worked swiftly, unlocking the massive padlock that secured the iron bar on the front of the bunker doors. The rusted metal protested as he slid back the bar. The large door swung open with a groan. Powers pulled a mag light from his fatigue pocket and shone it around the interior. If Colonel Hossey found out about the existence of this cache, Powers knew that the old man wouldn't hesitate a moment before busting his ass to Leavenworth. Upon first arriving at Fort Campbell a year and a half ago, Powers had inherited the cache from a retiring sergeant major with whom he had served in Vietnam. It was knowledge he would have preferred to have been without, but now it was paying dividends. Powers spotted what he needed. He tore open the crate of C-4 plastic explosive and took out the white packets. He rapidly retraced his steps and relocked the bunker, then hopped into his truck and drove away. * * * *
Chicago
_8:50 P.M._ "How are we going to get all this to where it needs to go?" Giannini wanted to know as she peered through the windshield. "Same way the Synbats moved what they wanted to move," Riley replied. Giannini pointed to the police barriers blocking off the street and the large, darkened van sitting near the small tent that covered the entrance to the manhole. "How are we going to get it in _there?_" "We're going to carry it," Riley replied with a smile. "Aren't they going to see us?" Giannini asked. "Who? Lewis's men? They got their asses so far up their computer screens, they aren't bothering to look outside. That would be like real work. No problem -- we can do it." "Why don't you just go to Lewis with this plan?" Giannini asked. "Seems like it's something they'd like -- get rid of their problem in one fell swoop." "I could," Riley admitted. "And they most likely would like it. But they also might dick around with it too long. We have to go _tonight._ Tomorrow's Monday and this place will be crawling with people, even at night. I can't take the chance of Lewis calling Trollers and having one of their damn conferences to discuss it. We have to end this now." "What about the men watching the lair?" Merrit asked suddenly, surprising both of them. "No problem. Doc Seay and the other six members of my team, and the three DIA men -- they'll clear the tunnel by 0200 tomorrow morning." Riley looked at his watch in the glow of the streetlights. "That means we've got five hours to move all this stuff, get it set, and clear out before the shit hits the fan." Riley stepped out of the car. The two women opened their doors and got out. "I'll help," Merrit said. "I'll go with you." Riley pulled out the first charge. "Why don't you just stay up here and keep watch?" "No," Merrit insisted. "I can help." Riley shook his head. "I don't think you should -- " "Hey," Giannini growled, a charge on her shoulder. "Let's stop jawing and do it." Riley grabbed a second charge and handed it to Merrit. "Follow me." * * * *
Vicinity Bumpus Mills, Tennessee
_9:00 P.M._ Sergeant Major Powers was whistling as the headlights of the pickup truck guided him through the Tennessee countryside. By the dim glow of the dashboard, he could see the miscellaneous pile of supplies on the passenger seat. He smiled. There were several large bags of incendiary mix that he had worked up prior to picking up the C-4. Three parts flour and one part aluminum shavings, the mixture sat next to the more lethal concoction of C-4 and blasting caps. It'd be an ugly scene if he had an accident right now. It had been a long time since Powers had to work out a problem like this, and he was enjoying the challenge. The repercussions would come tomorrow. Tonight was action, and action was the fuel that Powers ran on. As he turned up Route 139, Powers's time sense slowed down and he mentally prepared himself for the night's events. After thirty years in the army and Special Forces, it wasn't hard. His smile grew wider. * * * *
Chicago
_11:30 P.M._ "How much farther?" Giannini asked as she pulled at the front end of the battered shopping cart. "Another four hundred meters," Riley answered. They'd turned the cart sideways and dropped it down from the sewer level to the freight tunnel level, then carefully lowered all eight pipes by rope before going down themselves. For more than an hour now they'd been moving due north. They had taped flashlights to the front of the cart, and the glow extended about twenty feet ahead. Giannini and Merrit were on either side of the lights, pulling, as Riley pushed from the rear. It was hard going, since the small wheels would get stuck in the mud or suddenly spin around, causing the cart to tip from side to side. Anxiety would rise as the cart threatened to tip over and spill its volatile contents. Riley's eyes flickered about, searching. The three were making enough noise to alert any Synbat within a half mile. The light was also a dead giveaway, but he had access to only one set of night vision goggles and they'd never make it in time with Merrit and Giannini stumbling around blindly in the dark. His M16 rested in front of the cart in the child's seat and his pistol was snug in its shoulder holster. Giannini had discarded her jacket, and a rather large Colt Python was riding under her left arm. "How we doing for time?" Giannini asked. Riley glanced at his watch. "We're just a little behind." * * * *
Biotech Engineering
_11:45 P.M._ The DIA guard had been pulling the ten to six graveyard shift for the last three days; the novelty had worn thin within two hours of the first shift. The entire building had been stripped bare and all the equipment and supplies piled up in the main foyer. They were due to be picked up tomorrow morning and taken away. The guard leaned back in his chair and flipped the page on the paperback he'd started the first night. As his eyes registered the first word something flickered across his line of sight. He started forward, but a cloth tightened around his mouth and he reflexively sucked in a large breath. He was unconscious within five seconds. Like taking candy from a baby, Sergeant Major Powers thought as he grabbed the guard by his armpits and dragged him out of the building and across the parking lot. Powers tied him to one of the light poles and blindfolded him for good measure. He figured the guard would be out for at least six hours, but Powers didn't believe in taking chances. Powers recovered his pickup from its hiding spot a quarter mile down the road and drove it up to the lab, parked next to the front door, and began unloading his equipment. * * * *
Chicago
_12:45 A.M._ The tunnel began descending slightly and the air grew increasingly damp. Small droplets of condensation plopped off the ceiling onto the floor, forming a small rivulet of water. Riley kept them going until the tunnel began rising slightly. "This is it." Merrit looked around. "You're sure we're under the river?" Riley nodded. "Pace count and direction add up. We just went down about five extra feet, and I'd say it's pretty damn damp in here." "Now what?" Giannini asked. "You know what to do?" "You think I'd take you all the way down here and not know what to do?" Riley asked as he lifted the first pipe out of the cart. "Hey, I've seen stupider things done," Giannini replied as she pulled out her revolver and ripped the tape off one of the flashlights. "I'll cover the way we came." Riley paused and handed Merrit his pistol. "Take the other light and cover in that direction." Riley pulled a mini-mag light off his vest and clenched it between his teeth as he worked on the first pipe. He carefully took a nonelectric fuse and wrapped a length of detonating cord eight times around it, then he placed it inside the small opening on the base of the pipe and pressed it into the ammonium nitrate-gasoline mixture. Using normal TNT as a blast factor of one, this mixture had an effectiveness of only .42 -- thus Riley's insistence on using a larger amount than his calculations told him would do the job. Fi
nished with the first pipe, Riley placed it back in the cart, fuse end facing down, concave end up. He carefully threaded the det cord through the blood-stained grate at the bottom of the cart and coiled it, keeping it out of the water on the floor. He did the same to all eight pipes. Then he tied all eight fuses along another length of det cord, and left the last piece dangling. When he was done, he tied a large flat cake pan, layered with a half inch of explosive, about a foot below the bottom of the cart. He primed the charge with another fuse and det cord. Giannini would occasionally glance over her shoulder and watch Riley work, his hands expertly twisting the explosive rope into knots and handling the fragile detonators. She searched for something humorous to lighten the mood a little and then gave up, focusing on the dark corridor that stretched up and out of sight. Riley stood slowly and held both pieces of firing cord in his hands. "I'm ready to wire this up to the ignitors." "Why two?" Giannini asked. "You _always_ have a dual firing system." He held up the piece of det cord tied into the pipes. "This is the primary. It should set off all eight pipes at once. If that fails," he held up the other cord, "then this one is set to go off five minutes later. It blows the explosive on the pan below the pipes. That explosion ought to be enough to initiate the fuses in the pipes." "Then what?" Merrit asked, diverting her attention for the first time. Riley pointed at the pipes. "Those are called shaped charges. I don't know exactly how it works, but the concave shape on the top of the charge focuses the blast." "Don't you have to put it against whatever it's going to blow up?" Merrit asked. "No. You need stand off for the blast to focus." He looked up at the pitted ceiling. "I don't know how thick the concrete up there is, but it can't be more than a few feet. There's a layer of dirt on top of that, and then the river. There's enough explosive here to go through at least five feet of reinforced concrete -- and this stuff isn't reinforced -- and about ten feet of dirt. It will do the job." "Let's stop talking and get out of here," Giannini suggested. Riley looked at his watch. "It's almost two. Seay will be moving his people out in a couple of minutes. I'm going to wait until then to hook this up to the ignitor." * * * *
2:00 A.M.
Doc Seay and the other six members of ODA 682 stood up and moved out of their defensive positions as the second hand swept by the twelve, marking the hour. "Let's get out of here," Seay ordered. When the DIA agent in charge started to protest, Seay shrugged. "You can stay here and die, or you can go to the surface with us. It's your choice." "What do you mean 'stay here and die'?" the DIA man asked. "Stay here and find out," Seay replied cryptically as he and his men set off down the tunnel. The three DIA men looked at each other briefly and then quickly set out behind the Special Forces soldiers. * * * *
Biotech Engineering
_2:01 A.M._ Powers placed the bags of mixture throughout the first floor of the building, taking special notice of the equipment stacked in the main foyer, particularly the computers. Next to each bag he placed a small charge of C-4. He primed it with a blasting cap and linked them together with detonating cord. Then he ran the det cord back to the front door and hooked it into a radio-controlled fuse ignitor. The C-4 would explode the aluminum and flour mixture, which would blow out, causing a total vacuum on the inside of the building. Air pressure on the outside of the building would implode the structure, effectively destroying everything inside. Powers would have preferred to simply blow up the building, scattering it over the countryside, but the amount of C-4 required to do that was more than had been available in the bunker. The expedient dust initiator mixture would have to serve. Powers used the guard's key to descend to the lower level and do the same thing, hooking the charges into another remote fuse ignitor on the same frequency as the one above. He took the elevator back up and made his way out of the building. * * * *
Chicago
_2:04 A.M._ Riley finally used the last two items they had laboriously carried here -- two small lockboxes with timers inside. He hooked the det cord from the tubes into the fuse ignitor on the bottom timer, then connected the one from the backup system. He looked up at Merrit and Giannini, who had gathered in close. "My watch reads 0205," he said. "Seay's clearing the tunnel and will be out in thirty minutes. It will take us about forty to get out." He moved the hour hand on the tube clock back to eleven. "I'm setting the primary to blow in one hour." He moved the backup to 10:55. "The backup goes off in an hour and five if the primary doesn't blow. You all ready to move out?" Both women nodded. Riley pulled a pack of four double-A batteries from his pocket and tore off the plastic cover. He pushed two batteries into the backup clock, and the second hand started moving. Then he pushed two batteries into the primary clock, and immediately pressed buttons on his wristwatch, setting the stopwatch for one hour. He placed each clock into a lockbox, then locked them shut with two keys. He handed the keys to Giannini. "You take these." "What do we need them for? I don't even understand why we're locking the damn things." "I'm locking them because if there's a one-in-a-hundred chance that the Synbats come across this setup, I don't want them messing with the ignitors." "They could just pull out the wires," she noted. "They could," Riley agreed. "But there's only so much you can do. We've got fifty-nine minutes. Let's roll." They set off down the tunnel, Riley in the lead, Merrit in the middle, and Giannini bringing up the rear. * * * *
Biotech Engineering
_2:20 A.M._ Powers sat in the cab of his pickup truck and looked at the lights glowing in the foyer of the building. He reached into the cooler between the two seats, pulled out a soda, and popped the top. He took a deep draft, swished it around, and then swallowed. After a brief pause, he belched. He pulled the handset for the remote fuse ignitor out of his parka pocket and leaned it on the steering wheel next to the soda, then took another long drink. "Let's see if the master can still whip up a good dust initiator," he said to himself as his forefinger played with the power button on the control. He flipped it on. There was a bright flash inside the foyer, then nothing happened for a millisecond. The windows in the buildings suddenly imploded with a whooshing sound as everything was sucked into the vacuum caused by the blast. Another brief pause and the ceiling collapsed with a thunderous crash. When the air cleared, the mission had been accomplished. The only thing they'd be trucking out of Biotech the following morning was a load of debris. Powers put away the control and slowly drove off, steering with one hand as he continued to drink his soda in celebration, looking forward to the cold brew waiting back at Fort Campbell. * * * *
Chicago
_2:35 A.M._ They were more than halfway back to the manhole, Riley in the lead, holding the flashlight with his right hand under the hand guards of the M16. His left forefinger was on the trigger as the light played over the walls, left to right, forward, and then back, in a continuous pattern. Behind him, Merrit stumbled along, exhausted, holding his pistol. In the rear, Giannini crabbed sideways, flashlight in one hand pointing back, revolver in the other. There had been no conversation since leaving the demolition site; each person was lost in thought or trying to tune into the hostile environment that enveloped them. They hit one of countless cross tunnels, and Riley quickly scanned left and right, then unerringly continued straight on, due south. The walls seemed closer now and more forbidding. The darkness beyond the feeble reach of the flashlights was absolute. Another cross corridor and Riley stepped out into the intersection. Taking a quick glance left, he swung to check right, and as he moved, a Synbat slammed into him from that side at full charge. Large, sinewy arms wrapped around him and he immediately dropped both weapon and flashlight to fight for his life, trying to keep the fangs from closing on his neck. Directly behind, the second Synbat ignored the greater threat of Giannini and her pistol -- its eyes focusing on Merrit. It leapt over the struggling forms of Riley and the first Synbat and landed on the doctor, slamming her to the ground. Merrit screamed as fangs tore through her shirt and into her stomach. Giannini swung her light around, pistol locked on the two figures struggling in the center of the beam. "Get out of the way!" she yelled at Merrit. Ri
ley's left forearm was levered against the Synbat's throat. Saliva splashed on his face from the fangs just above him. He could feel distant pain as the Synbat swung at him with its powerful hands. He slammed his right fist into the creature's gut, with no apparent effect. The second Synbat looked up as Giannini took a good firing stance, flashlight locked with her free hand under the barrel of the pistol. The clear shot disappeared as Merrit reached up and wrapped both arms around the Synbat. "Let go!" Giannini shouted. But Merrit held on as the Synbat reached down and twisted her head, breaking her neck. Giannini fired three times; two of the magnum slugs hit the Synbat, killing it. The shots echoed in Riley's ears as the Synbat on top of him bit down on his shoulder. He heard, rather than felt, bone snap. The Synbat rolled, pulling Riley on top of him as a shield. "Shoot!" Riley screamed as the Synbat's head dipped for a second attempt at his neck. He swung his right arm outside the Synbat's grip and jabbed his rigid fingers directly into the creature's face. The creature howled as three of Riley's fingers pierced its right eye. Riley felt the bones snap in those fingers as the Synbat reared back, and then it was gone. Giannini fired her three remaining shots as the creature sprinted away into the darkness. She immediately knelt, snapped open the cylinder, dropping the empty casings to the floor, and slammed a speed loader against the empty holes. She stood and shone the light back down the corridor. "I think I hit it." Riley forced himself to a sitting position, his back against the wall, feeling the bones in his right shoulder grate together. "How's Merrit?" he gasped. Giannini backed up and knelt next to the doctor. "Dead. Neck broken. I told her to get out of the way, and instead she grabs the damn thing." "She wanted to die," Riley said, breathing heavily. "What?" "We kill these -- and if Powers destroys the lab -- the only link to making the Synbats is her. She knew that. Now she's gone too." Giannini shook her head and played the light over Riley. "Shit, you're a mess. Can you move?" "Think so," Riley said, gritting his teeth. He grabbed her outstretched hand and started to get to his feet when his left knee suddenly buckled. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "I didn't feel that get hurt." He reached down and tenderly felt around. "It isn't broken. Must have strained something when the Synbat jumped me." "Here, I'll give you a hand." Giannini helped him to his feet and then wrapped his left arm over her shoulder. "Can you walk like this?" They took a few tentative steps forward, Riley placing most of his weight on her whenever his left foot came forward. "Yeah." They started moving. "But if another Synbat shows up, we're gonna be dessert," Giannini commented. "We killed one. One's wounded. That leaves only one healthy Synbat, and I think it will stay with the young," Riley said. "But if we don't get out of here soon, we'll have more to worry about than the Synbats." * * * *
