by AD Starrling
He shook his head and drummed his fingers on the table, his mind returning to their current predicament. ‘What time is it in Cleveland?’
Laura looked at her watch. ‘Six thirty in the evening. Why?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘I think we should talk to Akihito Itaka,’ Conrad replied pensively.
The Case Western professor was in the middle of dinner when they phoned. Conrad waited while he transferred the call to his study.
‘I’m sorry for disturbing you, but I have an urgent question,’ said the immortal.
‘It’s alright,’ said Itaka over the cabin speakers. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You mentioned earlier that the data we showed you contained strong elements of Professor Svein Hagen’s work, correct?’
‘Yes, I did,’ affirmed Itaka.
‘What I’m about to tell you also falls under the heading of secrecy that Director Connelly explained to you earlier today,’ warned Conrad.
There was a thoughtful lull. ‘Okay,’ said Itaka cautiously.
‘I just spoke to Dawn Hagen, Svein Hagen’s surviving daughter,’ said Conrad. ‘She’s convinced her family is still alive.’
Itaka inhaled sharply. ‘How—?’
‘She received an email from an unknown computer server about a year ago,’ Conrad interjected. ‘She believes it was from her father.’ The immortal hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal to the scientist. ‘The content suggested he might be somewhere in North Africa.’
Itaka’s gasp was audible across the connection.
‘My God,’ the Cleveland professor whispered. There was a faint thump and a squeak of wheels, as if he had sat down heavily in a chair.
‘My question is simple: if Hagen is alive, could the data you saw be his work?’ asked Conrad. ‘Could the new explosive have been made by him?’
A long silence followed.
Conrad straightened in his seat. ‘Professor Itaka?’ he said sharply.
‘I’m here,’ came the quiet reply. ‘Yes. If Svein was alive, that could very well be his work.’
Conrad released the breath he had been holding. He had suspected as much. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. He bade the professor goodnight and disconnected.
A small frown wrinkled Laura’s brow. ‘What now?’
Conrad ran a hand through his hair, his head churning with the astonishing revelations of the last twelve hours. ‘I don’t know.’ He sighed. ‘We’ve followed all the leads we’ve had so far. It’ll be up to our intelligence network to come up with the next clue.’
His words proved unerringly prophetic. He was still awake and gazing meditatively out of the porthole next to his seat when they got a phone call from West Virginia.
‘Hey, it’s Franklin here.’
Conrad recognized the NSA agent’s voice over the Learjet’s cabin speakers. ‘Hi, Franklin,’ he greeted. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’m outside Charleston, at the headquarters of the firm that owns the MD helicopter from the Crystal City incident,’ said the NSA agent. Static crackled faintly on the line. ‘Petersen had apparently already cleared them. We were in the area, so we came to take a second look. Call it a gut instinct. Anyhow, turns out they operate hydraulic equipment manufacturing plants across several states. We’re talking pretty large-scale stuff, Greene. Their clients feature among the biggest names in the oil and gas, offshore drilling, shipbuilding, and mining industries in the world. Anyway, they’d closed shop by the time we got here. One of their employees was a bit lax when it came to shutting down his computer. We found some financial records dating back to 1990 that show substantial holes in their accounting figures. Guess what?’
Conrad could almost hear the smile in Franklin’s voice.
‘It seems they’ve secretly been providing equipment to an oil and gas production facility in Morocco. The orders we’ve seen are on a massive scale,’ said the NSA agent.
Conrad exchanged stunned glances with the immortals and the Secret Service agent. ‘Morocco? Are you sure?’ he asked sharply.
‘Yeah,’ said Franklin. ‘The shipments were originally addressed to offshore drilling sites in the Middle East. They never made it to their destinations.’ The agent paused. ‘Sorry, Greene,’ he continued in an apologetic tone, ‘but this oil company’s name didn’t come up when we were searching for links to the Strabo Corp. board of directors. We had to dig through a shitload of bureaucratic red tape and I’m pretty certain I heard one of my agents promise her first newborn to the Moroccan authorities before they would give us a name. The outfit is called Khan Inc. It’s owned by an Ariana Muhlisi Khan.’
Conrad saw the shocked looks dawning on the others’ faces.
‘It’s all right Franklin, you’ve done a great job,’ he said, unable to hide the urgency in his voice. ‘Have you got an address for us?’
The NSA agent chuckled. ‘I’ve got even better. Seeing that the site is in the middle of bloody nowhere, the Moroccans kindly provided us with the GPS coordinates. I’ll send them through to Hartwell.’
Laura’s phone beeped with an alert five minutes later. She tapped the screen and opened the new email. A gasp left her lips when she read the message.
‘What?’ said Conrad, alarmed.
‘Dawn Hagen was right.’ Laura stepped to the onboard computer and brought up a satellite map. ‘That number she received in that email a year ago? It was the beginning of a set of geographic coordinates.’ She typed in a series of numbers and stood back, her face hardening. ‘Her father’s in Morocco.’
They stared at the complex of lights etched starkly against a dark, desert background on the monitor. A thrill of excitement shot through Conrad. He detected the same nervous energy rising in the others. He stood and strode to the cockpit.
‘Change of plans,’ Conrad told the pilot.
Three hours later, they were on the ground at a military airport in southwest Morocco. It was four thirty in the morning in northwest Africa. A cold wind struck Conrad’s face as he exited the aircraft. He glanced at the tiny sand devils whirling on the tarmac before studying a hulking shape some fifty feet away. The plane had taxied next to a gunmetal-gray, MV-22 tilt-rotor Osprey helicopter.
Conrad led the way down the cabin steps and jogged across to the two figures standing in the shadow of one of the prop rotors of the vertical takeoff and landing aircraft. He looked at the rank insignia pinned to the collars of the soldiers’ utility uniforms and offered his hand to the woman with dark hair and green eyes. ‘Hi. Conrad Greene.’
‘First Lieutenant Avery, platoon commander, US AFRICOM,’ she said perfunctorily and shook his hand. ‘This is Moore, my staff sergeant.’
Conrad acknowledged the stocky blond man next to her with a curt nod and introduced the rest of his team.
US AFRICOM was the Unified Combatant Command of the United States Armed Forces in Africa. As such, it was responsible for all US Department of Defense operations, military exercises, and security relations on the continent.
It was yet another credit to Connelly’s influence that she had managed to get the Secretary of Defense and the Combatant Commander to agree to the deployment of a US Marine Corps platoon to support Conrad and his team on their last-minute mission to the African continent. Westwood had also spoken to the Moroccan king and the country’s prime minister to apprise them of the potentially explosive situation about to be played out.
The staff sergeant grabbed a couple of duffel bags by his feet and handed them to Conrad. ‘These are yours.’
They changed into the uniforms and tactical gear the Marines had provided and boarded the Osprey. The helicopter lifted off a short time later.
Khan Inc. was located in the Tindouf Basin, in Moroccan-controlled Western Sahara. The oil and gas plant occupied a strategic position on a remot
e stretch of desert hedged on three sides by wide belts of folded rocks that spread for miles across the land. It was a considerable distance from any human habitation or highway infrastructure, and accessible by a narrow road that wound through wide stretches of inhospitable wasteland.
Avery’s ground intelligence officer, a young corporal by the name of Gibbs, showed them the infrared satellite imagery and topographic data he had obtained from their geospatial intelligence.
‘The compound is around three-quarters of a mile in length and about as wide. It’s surrounded by a double-fenced perimeter and divided into three distinct zones,’ he said into the microphone of his communication headset. ‘Zone One is the largest section, to the north. It’s the heart of the production facility and houses the drilling wells, processing plant, and storage tanks. Zone Two to the southwest is the living quarters. Zone Three to the east has a range of small outbuildings, a helipad, and an administrative office.’ He pointed out the three areas on the computer on his lap. ‘They’ve got pipes bringing in water from local aquifers outside the site.’ He tapped the touch pad and zoomed out of the main satellite image. ‘We’ve also identified these large belts of disturbed ground some two miles northwest of the site. They look like explosive craters of some sort.’
Conrad’s stomach flipped at the soldier’s words. ‘Are you sure?’ He stared at the irregular, gray depressions on the screen.
‘Yes,’ replied Gibbs.
Avery’s brow puckered at Conrad’s expression. ‘What is it?’
The immortal glanced at her, a muscle dancing in his cheek. ‘The man we’re hoping to find at this facility is a professor in explosives engineering. We believe he’s been coerced into making a new and exceedingly powerful liquid bomb for the enemy.’ He cocked his head at the computer. ‘I think we’re looking at their test site.’
Avery went still. Her staff sergeant squared his shoulders next to her. The Osprey’s rotors rumbled loudly in the stilted hush.
‘What about security?’ said Laura.
Gibbs’s gaze moved back to the computer. ‘We’ve counted five posts,’ replied the corporal. ‘One at each of the four corners of the compound, which includes the main gates to the northeast, and one in the center.’
‘We’ll drop off in a valley about a mile and a half west of the target,’ said Avery. She indicated the spot on the satellite map. ‘These ridges should shield us from curious eyes. We’ll hike to the site on foot.’ Her lips compressed into a thin line, just visible in the gloom of her helmet. ‘We’ll have approximately seventy minutes of darkness left in which to take action. Sunrise is at zero six forty.’
‘We have a small, unmanned aerial vehicle on board,’ added Gibbs. ‘It’ll give us more recon details after we land.’
Anatole raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve got a drone? Cool.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Osprey curved some fifteen miles west of the plant before winding toward it over an expanse of windswept, undulating desert. The aircraft soon dropped altitude and followed a tortuous path along an ancient riverbed.
Conrad gazed blindly at the low outcrops and narrow canyons of prehistoric rock materializing through the nearest porthole as the helicopter weaved through a barren landscape lit by the stars and the moon. Dawn Hagen’s face kept flashing across his vision. His hands balled into fists in the dark interior of the aircraft. He hoped to God that his gut feeling turned out to be correct and that he would find her family alive.
Thirty-five minutes after they lifted off, the Osprey twisted down and landed in a shallow bowl in the floor of the desert. They exited the helicopter while its blades still spun above their heads, whipping sand and dust around them. Stars painted the heavens diamond-bright, and a cold desert wind raised goosebumps on exposed skin.
The Marines rapidly set up the ground control unit for the UAV and deployed the hand-launched device a short distance from the aircraft. They all gathered around the GCU computer. A real-time, thermal infrared video appeared on the display.
The lightweight aircraft followed the same path they would take over the land. A thousand-foot-wide gully unfurled over a ridge. Lights appeared in the center of the screen, faint at first, then brightening flares in a monochrome background.
The UAV made its first wide-angled pass over the facility. The security hut at the southwest corner of the inner perimeter fence came into view. The living quarters appeared eighty feet beyond it, a collection of one-story cabins and static mobile homes arranged in orderly rows on either side of a courtyard dominated by two larger constructions.
The UAV curved to the north. Conrad stared at the dazzling constellation of Khan Inc.’s main production plant as it grew rapidly in the distance. Oil derricks loomed among a conglomeration of flare stacks, pipes, and tanks; a metal maze sprouting from the desert. Despite the late hour, there were still workers visible on the ground and metal walkways connecting the various structures. The nightshift was in full swing.
The UAV looped half a mile ahead of the compound and turned to make its second approach. It swooped over the brightly lit main gates, the helipad, and the cluster of buildings to the east.
‘They’ve got plenty of guards,’ commented Avery.
Conrad frowned. The UAV’s camera had picked out at least two men at each of the security stations, with an extra two at the main site entrance. He detected three more figures, armed with what looked like automatic rifles, patrolling the inner perimeter to the north, south, and east.
‘If these guys are just the nightshift, we can assume there are that many, if not more, currently off duty on site,’ said Moore.
Conrad turned to the ground intelligence officer. ‘Can we take a look at those areas you identified to the northwest?’
‘Sure,’ said Gibbs. He gave the Marine operating the UAV fresh instructions.
The soldier looked down into the flight module and maneuvered the remote control stick by his right hand. The lightweight aircraft changed course once more and shot over the darkened landscape, a silent bullet speeding through the night.
The first of a dozen massive depressions appeared on the terrain moments later.
‘Holy cow,’ murmured the platoon staff sergeant. ‘What the hell have they been doing?’
Conrad’s gaze did not shift from the gigantic craters disrupting the natural contours of the desert sand and rock. Dismay flooded him when the last one came into view. It measured well over two football pitches in size and looked almost half as deep.
The UAV swung around and started back toward the plant. Troubled murmurs sounded from the assembled Marines.
‘Hagen’s made one hell of a powerful explosive,’ muttered Anatole.
Conrad suddenly froze. ‘Stop!’ he barked.
Gibbs and Avery looked at him, alarmed. The Marines shifted, their grasps tightening on their M16 rifles.
‘Can you go back?’ Conrad asked the UAV operator tensely. ‘I think I saw something.’
The Marine steered the aircraft out of its return trajectory and back toward the craters.
‘Come in again from the west,’ Conrad directed, his eyes glued to the GCU display.
They watched the desert unroll through the IR camera.
‘There!’ Conrad exclaimed. ‘At ten o’clock!’
‘What the—?’ started Moore.
The UAV angled to the northeast. The faint flare of brightness the immortal had glimpsed became more distinct. They watched silently as the aircraft dropped altitude and circled what appeared to be a contoured rise in the land.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Avery said in a leaden tone. ‘That’s clever.’
Conrad’s stomach knotted. Carefully camouflaged under a solid layer of black rock was a low-lying, dark building. Narrow windows were inset deep into its west-facing wall, under an irregular overhang
that effectively made them invisible to high-flying aircrafts. There were no windows on the other walls.
The only way someone would spot the openings would be to approach the site on foot from the west, over miles of open desert and rocky terrain. A dim light had been left on somewhere inside the structure. It was the faint reflection on a glass pane that had drawn Conrad’s attention.
‘Well spotted,’ said the platoon staff sergeant gruffly.
Conrad remained silent. Sixty years in the rainforest had sharpened his senses. There were many things willing and able to kill you in the Amazon if you didn’t pay attention. A single question now dominated the immortal’s thoughts, surpassing even his concern for Svein Hagen and his family.
What’s inside that building?
‘Ready to deploy?’ Avery asked.
Conrad looked around. The Marines stood silently watching their platoon commander and him, automatic weapons and rifles at the ready.
Anticipation tightened the immortal’s muscles. They were drawing closer to the truth; he could feel it in his bones. ‘Yes. Let’s go.’
They set off briskly in a westerly direction. The Osprey’s pilots and flight engineers remained at the landing site, along with the two soldiers manning the UAV and the GCU; the drone would remain airborne during their operation. Despite having to cross a canyon and climb an incline, it took them just over ten minutes to get to within seven hundred feet of the facility’s outer perimeter fence.
Moore had supplied Conrad’s team with head-mounted, enhanced night vision devices employing the latest in multi-spectral fusion technology. The Marines had similar monocular scopes fixed to their helmets and mounted on rails atop their rifles.
