He had his aid bag in his ruck, along with extra ammo and all the usual stuff any grunt carried – tape, zip cuffs, parachute cord, protein and granola bars, water, the list went on and on. Never knew what you might need. He also had his trusty XD on the thigh rig and his XD compact was in a holster on his left inner ankle. His right calf was taken up with a wicked-sharp KA-BAR combat knife that had gone with Gramps to Iwo Jima and back.
Waiting was difficult. Most of them dozed, with the thoroughly ingrained ability of every combat trooper to sleep anywhere, any time. But even the longest wait ends.
Coming up on 0300 hours they made their last commo check with Vinny and each other on the small tactical radios buckled high on their chests. Each of them had an earpiece in his shooting ear and a slim mike extending from it, snugged on the same-side cheek. The earpieces not only connected to our tactical radios but contained high-tech noise suppression circuitry that kept them from being deafened by their own weapons. A tiny counterpart was in each man’s opposite ear, so they could hear as well or better than normal, while still having sonic protection from the violence they were about to cause.
They motored slowly and quietly up to Watts Island, approaching from the north, out of sight of the buildings. Daniel lowered the anchor when Skull told him to, then watched as he filled a six-man rubber boat from a compressed air tank. They loaded from the dive deck off the back. Once they were in, they paddled the short distance to the rocky shore.
They startled some sleeping seabirds on landing. Daniel saw a Great Blue heron fly off, skimming up the shoreline like a living hang-glider. Other than that, they got in nice and easy. They carried the boat into the scrubby treeline, then locked and loaded weapons.
Despite the many missions under his belt, Daniel’s heart still thudded in his chest. It had been several years since he had been on a real, deliberate combat operation, not counting the bizarre actions that started this whole thing off. He wasn’t afraid for himself; something in him was still sick at the thought of having to kill someone.
He’d never been this way before, and he was starting to wonder about it. The XH had improved him a lot; it had stilled the serpent and healed his body, but it had also made him different in some way. He had been trying to ignore it, to wish it away, but it was really making itself felt right now. He was starting to worry he couldn’t do the job. Only his choice of ammo was letting him function right now.
He tried to imagine himself treating combat trauma, visualizing the blood, the pressure bandages, the IVs, the pain and the screaming. Nothing. But visualize shooting someone, and suddenly he felt sick. It was not too bad if he thought about shooting an arm or a leg. He tried recalling his execution of Jenkins and was overcome with a wave of nausea and regret. He pushed it out of his mind as they moved through the low dense woods. He couldn’t indulge in thought experiments right now, or he would screw something up.
At least he knew he could treat combat injury trauma.
They came to the edge of the open space right where they expected, outside the northeast corner of the small complex. They were looking at the corner where the small northern building and the big central building almost touched. This was their ORP, their objective rally point. The helipad was to their right, next to the back of the big building. They could see the white Jeep through the gap between the buildings. Their angle blocked their view of the southernmost small building.
Zeke made a hand signal and Spooky moved off to their left, vanishing into the woods. A few minutes later Daniel saw him crouching by one of the windows at the back of the small building. He had been looking but had not even seen Spooky cross the open space from the trees to the building.
“Damn, he’s good,” he breathed.
A derisive snort from Skull was the only answer.
There was a three to five knot breeze, by the wind sock swinging at the helipad on its short wooden pole. They watched the black shape against the white building move along it, looking in the windows. It slid around the corner a moment later, and they waited some more.
While they waited, Skull prepped a quick sniper position there at the ORP.
They heard a faint click, then Spooky’s voice. “North small building clear. Quarters, kitchen, office, rec room. I leave east door unsecured, advise occupy. Proceeding to south small building.”
“Acknowledged.” Zeke led them fifty yards eastward, staying inside the treeline. Then they hustled across the open space, shielded from sight by the empty small building. As they crossed the space they could hear the low grumble of a generator, well-muffled, and a whining hiss that was less identifiable.
They slipped around the corner of the building to enter the door Spooky had left unlocked. Inside, they found everything as he had said – two bedrooms with two single beds each, a shared latrine and shower, a kitchen, a recreation room with a pool table, and a small windowless office with a low-end desktop computer, a printer-fax combo, and not much else. They did a quick search, finding nothing of significance. The fridge held enough fresh food to indicate that they brought groceries at least weekly.
Zeke unlocked the door at the other end of the building, which if opened would face a door in the north end of the large building across an angled gap. He put an eye to the crack in the blinds of the door window, watching for anything amiss.
Daniel took the other side of the door and did the same, with Larry watching their backs.
About that time they heard Spooky report, “South building all clear. Quarters and kitchen, rest of building is storage of many things. Rally at north door of large building ETA one minute.”
Zeke replied, “Roger, we are inside north small building at south door, standing by.”
A moment later they saw Spooky slip around the big building’s nearest corner and ghost up to the door in the near end. He did something at the lock and then gently turned the handle. It looked like he had got it open. He reached into a cargo pocket and got out some kind of telescoping rod, like an old-fashioned radio aerial. He extended it. It had a little box on one end with a faint yellow LED, which he ran around the edge of the whole door frame. The light stayed yellow. It was some kind of alarm detector. He collapsed it back to pen-size and slid it back into his pocket. Then very, very slowly he eased the door off its jamb the tiniest of bits, not even a crack. He stayed that way for a full minute before letting it go gently back. He then pushed his NVGs off his eyes up onto the top of his head, lay prone on the ground, to open the door enough to press a naked eye to the crack at the very bottom corner.
Daniel observed, fascinated. Watching a real pro at work was interesting.
“Hallway whole length of building. Low light,” he reported. “Eight doors, some with windows and lights inside. No activity. Negative air pressure confirmed.” He must be able to feel the air rushing into the crack in the door, as the air system kept the pressure inside slightly lower than outside. This would ensure any stray organisms floating in the air were unlikely to make it outside, except through the filtration system. In fact, that was probably the strange hissing they had heard crossing the field. It was kind of the opposite of NBC overpressure systems, which were usually meant to keep bad things out.
Zeke responded, “All right, we go in. Larry, hold the door, me and DJ go first and start search and clear. Spooky, go around and watch the far door from the outside. Unlock it and be ready to come in. Skull, you got clear lines?”
“Ay-firmative,” Skull answered under his breath.
“Larry, you hold the door from the inside, watch our backs and keep the line of retreat open. Remember everyone; the civilians are non-hostile unless proven otherwise. Don’t get twitchy.” Zeke pulled the end of a sheaf of zip cuffs out of his cargo pocket, easy to grab. He then took off his gloves. So did Daniel. They were trained to shoot with gloves on, but anything delicate, such as threading a zip cuff or sticking in an IV, required tactile feedback.
“Spooky in position.”
“Skull in position.�
��
“Vinny in position,” came a faint sardonic voice.
Daniel strangled a laugh. He’d hate to be Vinny, just listening back at the motel, but someone had to do it. He took a deep breath, and tried to reassure himself, his twitchy conscience, he wasn’t out for blood. A part of him felt like a pansy for worrying about such things; a part of him was proud.
***
Elise sat staring at her screen as the machines in the lab ran more useless experiments, modeling drugs that might mitigate some of the virtue effect. She studied the data on her computer screen, the results of her latest batch. Nothing new. No progress. Part of the problem was that most of the new designer drugs were, of course, made to make the user feel good.
Durgan wanted something that made people feel evil and like it. Or feel nothing.
Something like that.
Dammit, I’m a microbiologist, not a neuroscientist. Roger and Author are a virologist and an epidemiologist. We need a couple of dozen specialists to do what he wants. But he’s not listening.
She paced the floor absentmindedly chewing her nails then walked over to the small kitchenette in the corner of the lab and poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. Caffeine. Maybe that would help her think. Maybe she’d rather not.
As she stirred in her usual teaspoon of cream and two packs of sugar she inhaled the comforting aroma and her mind wandered back in time. Funny how scents and smells are often so vividly connected to memories.
When she was a girl the wonderful smells of coffee and bacon and toast would wake her from her slumber every morning. She would head into the kitchen to find her father sitting in his usual place at the table eating breakfast and reading the morning paper. Sneaking up from behind she'd scare him with a loud "boo". He would always play along, clutching at his chest as if she had frightened him, then he'd scoop her up with a reassuring hug and kiss. I really miss you, Dad. She thought about her father, a good man, solid, loving, dependable, honorable. Her thoughts turned again to Daniel. I know deep down Daniel is all of those things, too. She wondered where he was and if he was thinking of her at that moment.
***
“Execute.” Zeke pushed the door smoothly open, and Larry crossed the thirty feet or so to the unlocked door where Spooky had been so recently. They followed right behind, and Larry opened the door quickly, drawing it out of their way so all they had to do was go straight in.
They entered in two-man tactical stack. That meant Zeke was in front, Daniel slightly crouched right behind him with his left upper arm firmly pressed into Zeke’s back, so Zeke knew where he was. Daniel held his M4 to the right and down, covering the right side. His eyes swept the hallway automatically, center-up-right-down and back to center in a fraction of a second, the barrel of his weapon following in a tight circle. Zeke did the same on his left, and they heard the click of the door behind them as Larry closed and locked it from the inside, then took a knee.
They needed to get out of the hallway as fast as possible, to let Larry dominate it with his street-sweeper, and to give him a covered position. They took the first door on the left as planned. Daniel stayed stacked behind Zeke as he reached out with his left hand to try the door. It opened into a tiny closet with cleaning supplies. They turned and waved Larry forward. This would be his best position, allowing a right-handed shooter like him to keep good cover and still lash the hallway with heavy fire.
The plan was to stay to the left side of the hallway. They might find doors between rooms, and they wanted to avoid causing confusion if Larry had to start firing. Crossing and recrossing the hallway unnecessarily to opposite doors was bad technique. So they moved along the left side of the hallway to the next door on the left, passing a solid steel door on the right. Larry would have to cover that.
Zeke tried the handle. It was locked. They could call Spooky in to try to pick the lock, or they could break in.
Sticking to the plan, Zeke decided to break in as quietly as possible. The building was filled with the low rumble of the generator and the rushing sound of the air system, so there was a good chance they could get away with it.
Zeke pulled a crowbar out of the small of his back, where he had had it taped. He fit it between the door handle and the jamb, leaning his weight on it slowly until it popped with a muffled clang.
***
Elise thought she heard a noise. It's probably just Miguel doing a security check of the building. God, I hope he doesn't come in here and bother me again. She checked her watch. 3:17 a.m. No, Miguel went off duty over an hour ago, he’ll be fast asleep, Karl’s on duty now.
When no one materialized in the doorway she shrugged to herself, figuring it was just the sound of the building settling or the wind. She finished her coffee, rinsed her cup and set it on the counter. With renewed energy she returned to her station and began another drug model run. Beta blockers. Who knows, might have some effect.
***
Zeke immediately shoved the door open and swept the left side of the room. Daniel followed him in and swept the right. Each of them moved to their sides, out of the death funnel of the doorway.
A dark figure on the lower bunk of two rolled heavily out, tangled in blankets. “Wha-” they heard before Zeke stepped forward and gave him a left-handed whack on the head with the crowbar. The man dropped to the thin-carpeted floor like a sack of potatoes.
The room was lit only by the dimness of the corridor and the green numbers of a clock-radio on a night table. It read 3:17.
Perfect. Daniel poked the upper bunk with the barrel of his weapon, finding nothing and no one there but bedding.
Zeke whipped out zip cuffs and hog-tied the fallen man, then taped his mouth shut. He popped a pillowcase over the man’s head then taped that loosely around his neck.
Daniel checked his pulse. Good and strong. Zeke knows his club work.
“One hostile neutralized,” Zeke reported over the net. “Still quiet.”
Daniel hoped that was true, and he hoped it stayed that way. He rolled the man under the bunk bed, out of the way. If he was smart, he would stay there until it was all over.
There was a door with a mirror on it in the wall to the right. Logically that would be a bathroom or closet. Zeke reported quietly, “Interior door. Opening.” It was a closet, with some security uniforms and civvies in it. The wall at the back seemed solid, made of the same thin industrial steel construction as the rest of the building. Too bad. If it had been drywall they might have tried to breach it through to the next room.
“Emerging left,” Zeke called, and they moved back into the corridor. It was going to get harder fast, because the next door on the right had a big square window in the top half, with wire mesh inside, the kind designed to let people look into the room before entering. Or vice versa. But this window was dark, and they hoped that meant unoccupied. The next one up on the right was lit.
Their door to the left was not going to be as simple as the last one. There was an external deadbolt fitted, like an afterthought. Maybe it was meant to keep something in, not out. They retreated back to the room they were in before, and spoke in low tones.
“That must be Elise’s cell,” Daniel offered.
“Maybe. What if it’s a berserk gorilla with the XH in it they are keeping for experimentation?”
“Ugh,” Daniel said. “Yeah, point taken. We can’t be sure. All we know is it’s built to keep something in, not out.”
“Jury-rigged for that, anyway. So we clear the rest of the building and tackle that door last, with more information.” Zeke’s tone brooked no argument.
Daniel nodded in agreement.
Zeke called softly, “Zeke to Larry. We’re changing to the right side of the corridor. Emerging left.”
They moved out into the corridor and Larry moved behind them up to the open door of the bunkroom. They went back to the windowless door on the right side of the corridor. It turned out to be a half-full storeroom with lab supplies and machinery in it, unlocked. They came back out
.
They edged up the right side to the next door and Zeke looked in the dark window for a long moment. He shook his head, unable to see anything. He reached over to test the door handle. It turned. He pressed it gently inward, and it opened a tiny bit. He nodded, then gave a three count with his fingers; one-two-three and in they went.
Murphy always wins, they say. Nothing ever goes smooth. All hell seemed to break loose inside that room. Screeching sounds, zoo sounds, howls and a clattering of metal together. Something soft and smelly spattered on the wall next to Daniel, and it was only lack of targets in the dark that kept him from firing.
He flipped on the light.
Monkeys. Apes, animal figures in cages stacked along the far wall, and a never-ending racket.
***
Elise heard the sudden commotion in the next room. The lab animals were all going...well...ape. Maybe it was Miguel after all, trying to mess with her by provoking the animals. Maybe they had changed their shift times.
She pushed her chair away from the screen and stood up, mentally preparing herself to have it out with Miguel for screwing with the chimps. She knew Durgan would be on her side on this one.
***
“We’re blown,” Zeke spoke into his mike. “Execute Bravo.” That was plan B. Always good to have one of those, because Plan A never survived contact with the enemy, or even with Murphy.
Zeke led the way back into the corridor, fast. They hugged the right wall to the lighted-window door and Zeke dove across the doorway to the other side, low, below line of sight. From there he reached up to the door handle, gave a quick three-count and went in low from that side, flowing around to the left.
Daniel went in right and higher, trusting to his helmet, vest and XH. He was the biggest target, and an alert enemy would have had ten seconds to prepare.
He saw Elise standing inside, her mouth agape, getting ready to yell. Daniel held up his left index finger to his lips in an emphatic gesture for silence. He closed with her quickly, crossing the big laboratory in two seconds, still holding the finger to his lips. A rush of emotion swept through him even while he was supposed to be paying attention to the mission. So good to see her, thank God she’s all right.
Eden Plague - Latest Edition Page 10
