“I’ve got a sensor,” someone said over the comm.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“To your left. A hundred and fifty feet.”
Turning, Chloe saw a man near the end of the line wave his arm. “Got you,” she said. “Everyone stop. Anybody else pick up anything?”
There was a pause as the team looked around, then, “Cameras,” a woman said. “Three of them.”
“Position?”
“I’m also to your left, about sixty feet. One camera’s straight in front of me, approximately thirty yards. The other two are about the same distance away but fifteen feet to either side.”
Chloe looked to the man immediately to her right. “Bobby?”
Bobby Lion was already in the process of removing his backpack. “Five minutes.”
“Too long.”
“I need to build the loops,” he argued as he opened his pack and began removing the electronic gear he was carrying.
“As fast as you can, then.”
He nodded and set to work.
“Okay, everyone,” she said into her comm. “It appears the target’s somewhere to the left of my position. Those of you to my right, slowly swing inward until you pick up more surveillance. Let’s see if we can figure out the boundaries. And for God’s sake do not get noticed.”
As soon as the group was moving again, Chloe stepped over to Bobby. “Well?”
Without looking up from the small monitor sitting on his backpack, he said, “It hasn’t even been a minute yet.”
“It’s been more.”
He huffed but said nothing as he fiddled with one of the boxes next to the monitor. For a moment, the screen displayed only static, and then a green-tinged, night-vision shot of a small, deserted clearing in the woods popped on.
Chloe smiled. “Knew you could do it.”
“That’s only one, and I still need to make the loops so back off.”
Over the next several seconds, more camera angles rotated through the monitor.
“Chloe?” a voice said over the radio. She recognized it as belonging to Robert, one of the Isabella Island survivors.
“Go for Chloe,” she said.
“We’ve got the area circled.”
“All right. Everyone hold your position. Do not move until I give the word.”
She knelt down next to Bobby.
“You breathing over my shoulder is not going to make this go any faster,” he said.
“I’m just watching the master at work.”
Several seconds passed before he said, “Okay, I’ve picked up nine cameras. How many have the others seen?”
Chloe asked the team. Nine was the number they had found, too.
“Give me thirty seconds to record the loops, and another thirty to make sure they’re playing properly, then we can go.”
He set to work, creating false feeds for the cameras so that whoever might be watching them would see his loops and never know anything was amiss.
“Okay,” he said. “It’s done.”
Chloe rose to her feet. “Everyone, move in.”
__________
THE SQUARE METAL emblem in Wicks’s hand was approximately the same size as his palm. Gold covered the square backplate, while rising from it was a dome of silver inlaid with the white crest of Project Eden and the letters VOD across the top.
This isn’t going to work, Wicks thought.
Somehow the watchers monitoring the camera would know the ID had been stolen. And the moment they realized that, security forces would storm out of the base and overwhelm Captain Ash’s team. By this time tomorrow, Wicks would have been executed as a traitor.
“Curtis?” Ash whispered behind him.
Wicks took a deep breath. Get your act together, he told himself. You can do this. You have to do this. For Matt, if for no one else. You owe him more than you could ever repay.
Channeling the memory of his late friend, he scowled at the camera. “What’s the holdup?” he said in a commanding voice. “You know what this is. Open the door!”
Two seconds passed before a voice said over the speaker, “My apologies for the delay. We, um, just need to verify. Please hold for a—”
“Verify?” Wicks shoved the ID closer to the camera. “Are you blind and stupid? This is a Voice of the Directorate identification. I am here at the Project leadership’s behest to conduct an emergency inspection. If you inform anyone, you will be in violation of protocols. Then again, if you’re okay with being banished from the future we’re building, go right ahead.” He paused. “So what’s it going to be?”
__________
MORRIS LOOKED AT Lochmere. “What do we do?”
“I’m, uh, not sure,” his partner replied.
VODs—Voice of the Directorate IDs—were supposed to be go-anywhere, make-everyone-drop-what-they’re-doing-and-pay-attention passes. They were beyond rare—so rare, in fact, that the only time Morris and Lochmere had seen one was in a training manual.
“Open the damn door!” the man on the camera barked.
“You’re senior here,” Lochmere said. “It’s your decision.”
Morris grimaced. “Gee, thanks.” He looked back at the monitor.
__________
“PUSH THEM AGAIN,” Ash whispered.
Wicks took a deep breath and said, “I would be more than happy to call the directorate, but if I do, banishment won’t be the worst thing you need to worry about. You have five seconds.”
He started to count, and only made it to three before the door to the concrete hut swung open.
6
NB551
JAIPUR, INDIA
12:18 PM IST
SANJAY FELT KUSUM free his pistol from the waist of his pants. He started to move his hand back so he could take the weapon from her, but she whispered, “No. When I tap you, fall to the floor.”
He tensed and grunted a barely audible no.
“Don’t argue,” she whispered back.
He wanted to turn and stop her, but knew that would only get them captured.
The older guard suddenly touched his microphone again. “Yes, I’m here…you found van Assen?...Say that again.” As he listened, he turned back to Sanjay and Kusum, his gaze hardening. “Thank you.”
As he reached to turn his mic off, Sanjay felt the tap of the gun against his shoulder. Knowing he had no choice, he dove to the floor.
The pistol boomed over his back.
Sanjay rolled to the side and pushed to his feet just in time to see the younger guard slump against the wall, blood coating his shirt. The older one, however, was whipping his rifle off his shoulder.
Sanjay dove for the man’s legs, hoping to knock him to the ground. The moment he made contact, he heard another boom and the guard fell to the floor. Sanjay jerked the rifle from the man’s grasp before the guard could use it, but he needn’t have hurried. Kusum’s shot had caught the man mid-chest. He would never use a gun again.
Sanjay whipped around and looked for the young woman. Following the sound of whimpering, he found her tucked beneath her desk.
“Please! Please!” she said when she saw him. “Don’t hurt me. I haven’t done anything!”
Sanjay could have told her seven billion reasons why that wasn’t true, but instead he pulled open drawers until he found some packing tape and then tossed it to Kusum.
“Secure her,” he said as he turned for the door to the director’s office.
“Sanjay, wait for me,” she said.
“We don’t have time.”
He opened the door and rushed inside, the rifle pressed against his shoulder. But the office was unoccupied.
“Director Mahajan?” he called. “Director?”
He made a quick circuit, checking everywhere Mahajan might hide, but he wasn’t anywhere in the room. A second door led to a private bathroom, complete with a shower and a walk-in closet full of clothes. No director, though.
As he reentered the man’s office, Kusum hurried in.
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“Where is he?” she asked.
“Not here.”
“You checked everywhere?”
“Of course I did.”
Pointing at the doorway he’d just come through, she asked, “What’s in there?”
“Bathroom. Closet.”
Kusum ran over and peeked through the door. “Did you check behind the clothes?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Come on, then.”
They raced into the closet. In addition to dozens of shirts hanging on the racks, there were at least as many suits and pairs of pants. They split up—Kusum taking the left rack, Sanjay the right—and began pushing the clothes apart.
Sanjay was working through a section of light gray suits when he suddenly stopped. “Kusum!”
“You found him?”
“No. But I found where he must have gone.”
Built into the wall behind the suits was a door, its outline barely noticeable.
Sanjay pushed on it. A soft click, followed by the door swinging open.
Inside was a spiral staircase. And from not too far above, Sanjay heard the sound of heavy breathing and footsteps.
__________
DIRECTOR MAHAJAN HAD no inkling of the drama taking place in the lobby outside his office. He had just finished a conference call with the other members of the directorate, and was working his way through the security feeds from outside his base. So far, damage appeared to be confined to the surrounding walls and some vehicles that had been struck by debris.
He could see no signs of the strike force that had been dispatched to find the perpetrators, but guessed the team was searching the nearby streets. The good news was, the explosions appeared to have stopped.
He leaned back in his chair. If the attack was truly over, then NB551 was lucky. From the reports Director Johnson had shared with the other directors, other bases were experiencing more intensive fighting. He was more than happy to avoid that fate.
Of course, this could be just a lull, and enemy troops could soon begin pouring through the gaps in the wall. He grabbed another antacid tablet from the bottle on his desk, and had just started to chew when he heard a gunshot in the lobby.
He jerked in surprise and stared at the door, his mind struggling to explain the sound away.
The second boom brought him out of his trance.
He’d been wrong. Whoever had attacked the walls had made it inside and were now just beyond his door.
Not all Project Eden bases were equal. The majority were constructed from variations on a common design, with entrances limited to the central elevators, which also contained ladders in the shafts to be used in emergencies. There were clear dangers to this single exit path, but the old directorate had felt this design would not only cut down on the chances of the underground bases being discovered, but also serve as an easy way of cutting off a facility if some kind of internal uprising occurred.
To calm the fears of several high-ranking Project members, certain facilities had been equipped with an additional emergency exit, known only to that particular facility’s director. NB551 was one such base, hence the reason Mahajan chose it for his headquarters. He had never expected to use the emergency exit, but was glad for it now.
Even before the echo of the second shot had faded, he ran toward the bathroom door and rushed into the walk-in closet. He went straight to the set of gray suits, pushed them aside, and opened the door.
At first he took the stairs two at a time, but this pace lasted only half a flight before his age and weight conspired against him and forced him to slow.
His breaths came heavy and loud, so loud that he didn’t hear the door below open again.
__________
SANJAY WENT FIRST, making as little noise as possible, while Kusum climbed a few steps behind him, matching his caution.
The twists of the spiral prevented him from seeing his prey until only six treads separated them. The man was shorter than Sanjay and carried considerably more weight.
“Director Mahajan?” Sanjay said calmly.
The fat man stumbled forward, nearly slamming his face against the stairs, but he saved himself at the last second by thrusting out a hand.
“Are you all right, Director?”
Without looking back, Mahajan started climbing again. “You have the wrong man. I am not the director.”
“I would like you to stop, please.”
When the director showed no signs of stopping, Sanjay loudly chambered a round in his rifle.
That halted Mahajan in his tracks.
“Better,” Sanjay said. “Now turn around.”
The man didn’t move.
Sanjay poked the barrel of the rifle against the man’s thigh. “Would you like to be shot here first?”
A moment’s hesitation, then the man slowly turned.
Sanjay smiled. “Director Mahajan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
__________
IT TOOK NEARLY ten minutes for Sanjay, Kusum, and Mahajan to reach the top of the stairwell. By that point, the director’s face was red and covered in sweat. Sanjay thought if they’d had to go much farther, the man would have had a heart attack.
“Where does this let out?” he asked as they stood at the door off the top landing.
Mahajan puffed in and out but did not respond.
Sanjay nudged him with the rifle. “Answer me.”
Still breathing hard, the man turned his head a few inches. “What?”
“Tell me where this lets out.”
Mahajan blinked as if trying to process the words. Finally, he looked at the door and said, “South side, maintenance building.”
The south side was what Sanjay thought of as the back. He recalled seeing a couple of outbuildings when they had scouted the facility.
“Is it occupied?” he asked.
The man’s face hardened. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”
Sanjay dearly wanted to slam the rifle butt into the man’s face, but he restrained himself. Looking at Kusum, he said, “Watch him. I will check. If he moves at all, kill him.”
Sanjay slowly inched the door open and peeked out. On the other side was a short hallway with another door at the end.
“Come on.” He grabbed Mahajan’s arm and walked the man down the hall. Just as they reached the other door, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw it was Darshana. As soon as the line connected, he said, “I cannot talk right now.”
“Sanjay? Oh, thank God. Are you all right? What happened? Where are you?”
“Working our way out. Now, please, I—” He stopped himself. “Wait, get the car somewhere south of the base. Once we clear the wall, we will call you so you can tell us where to meet.”
“South? Okay, I will.”
“Be careful. People are looking for you.”
“Yes, I know. I have already dealt with one.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I am fine. Now go. I will see you both soon.”
As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, he saw Kusum looking at him, concerned.
“She said she is all right,” he told her. He turned to Mahajan. “The only time I want to hear you speak is if I ask you a question.”
Mahajan started to reply, but Sanjay held up a hand.
“That was not a question.”
Listening at the door, Sanjay heard a crackling noise and the distant sound of an alarm. As he cautiously pulled the door open, sunlight and the smell of smoke flooded in.
A quick look told him they were at the back of the outbuilding closest to the south wall. To the left he saw a fleet of cargo trucks, parked for future use, while the view to the right was blocked by several crates stacked against the building.
Sanjay looked back at Kusum. “Stay here until I signal you.”
He moved outside and eased along the wall until he could look around the corner at the warehouse. No one in sight.
He scanned the wall surrou
nding the compound. One of Darshana’s bombs had blown a three-meter-wide hole in a section straight back.
He returned to the doorway. “Follow me, but stay low.”
“You’re out now,” Mahajan said. “You should let me go.”
Sanjay jabbed the rifle into the man’s gut and received a satisfying “oomph” as the director doubled over.
“Our agreement was that you would say nothing,” Sanjay said.
Sanjay pointed at the hole in the wall and let Kusum take the lead so he could keep an eye on the director.
They were less than five meters from the rubble when a voice behind them yelled, “Stop!”
Kusum slowed and started to look back.
“No!” Sanjay said. “Keep going!”
“Stop right now!” the voice yelled again.
A pistol shot cracked across the space, sending the three of them to the ground.
“Go, Kusum! Take him and don’t stop!” Sanjay said. “I will be right there.”
As he turned toward the shooter and brought up his rifle, he was not surprised to see van Assen standing fifty feet away.
The Dutchman, his face still dripping blood from their last encounter, looked unsteady on his feet, the pistol he held weaving left and right.
“No one move!” he yelled past Sanjay toward Kusum. “Stop, goddammit!”
Just before Sanjay pulled the trigger, van Assen’s pistol cracked again. Sanjay’s weapon kicked more than he’d expected but his bullet flew true, the slug punching a small, dark hole above van Assen’s left eye. The Dutchman was dead before he even hit the pavement.
As Sanjay turned to run after Kusum and Mahajan, a sharp spike of pain ran through his side. He braced himself on a piece of broken wall and glanced down. The lower corner of his shirt was covered in blood. He placed a hand on his abdomen and winced.
“Sanjay?” Kusum called from beyond the hole in the wall.
He knew if she saw him, she would run back to help, so he said, “On my way.”
Gritting his teeth through the pain, he forced himself forward. When he reached the hole, he had to drop his rifle so he could crawl over the broken chunks of wall.
Kusum’s eyes widened as he dropped onto the other side. “What happened?” She moved to him and ripped at his shirt. “Oh my god. What happened?”
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