Callsign: King - Book 2 - Underworld (A Jack Sigler - Chess Team Novella)

by Robinson, Jeremy

  When King had been a platoon leader in the Army Rangers, Colonel Scott Mayfield had been his battalion commander. Mayfield had approved his transfer to Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta, which had been a stepping stone to Chess Team. He remembered Mayfield as an even-tempered and fair commanding officer, but he had no idea what to expect here and now.

  The general stalked forward, a hint of frustration in his eyes. “I take it you’re the one who’s been dogging my men all night. I should have been kept in the loop on Delta activities in my AO.”

  “I guess you didn’t get the memo,” King replied. He nearly told the man he wasn’t with Delta anymore, but didn’t see how that revelation would help the current situation. Better to let him think he was on duty. “And we really don’t have time to play catch-up.” He took a breath, and then with as much respect as he could muster, said: “Sir, you’ve got to shut Bluelight down, immediately.”

  Mayfield shook his head. “Those aren’t my orders.”

  “Then let me talk to Copeland.”

  The general frowned. “Son, I don’t think you grasp the big picture here.”

  “King!” Nina shouted. “It’s starting.”

  King glanced back at her and saw what looked like a glistening fuzz seeping out the ground around her feet. He turned back to Mayfield. “With all due respect, sir, believe me when I say that I see a lot more of the picture than you. If you don’t shut Bluelight down immediately, more of your men are going to die. Let me talk to Copeland. He’ll understand.”

  Mayfield pursed his lips. “I’ll let you say your piece, but my orders stand. The Bluelight experiment needs to be completed, and any resulting hostile incursion dealt with and eliminated.”

  “Then you already know.” Nina took a step closer. “You know that it’s driving the creatures to the surface, turning them into killers.”

  Mayfield ignored her and gestured to the door. “This way.”

  The mist continued to swell out of the ground, sparkling like reflected moonlight, as they stepped into the still darkened foyer. Mayfield barked an order to a subordinate then stepped past King and the others to lead the way to the mission control room.

  Not much had changed in the forty-eight minutes since King and Nina had last seen the facility. The only difference was that this time, they didn’t linger at the door.

  “Dr. Copeland,” Mayfield called. “These people would like to speak with you.”

  The physicist glanced up from his workstation. He looked like a man on the verge of psychotic break. Sweat beaded on his balding pate, and his shirt was rumpled and soiled, as if he hadn’t changed it in days. “You’re kidding right? Now, of all times?”

  King pushed forward. “Dr. Copeland, you have to shut Bluelight down immediately.”

  “Believe me, I’d love to.” Copeland turned back to his computer screen as if there was nothing more to say on the matter.

  King wanted to grab the man by the shoulders and shake him, but he kept his anger in check. “I don’t think you understand what your device is doing.”

  Copeland looked up again. “Who are you again? And how do you know anything about Bluelight?”

  “I know that it’s driving those creatures insane, and I know that as long as you run that machine, they’re going to keep coming and they’re going to keep killing.”

  Copeland shook his head. “There have been some unexpected side-effects, but General Mayfield assures me he can deal with that.”

  “General Mayfield has no idea what Bluelight is doing.”

  Mayfield didn’t hold back. “Sigler, I think you’re the one who’s clueless here. Do you even realize what Bluelight means for us?”

  King didn’t have an answer.

  “The President has ordered the Defense Department to phase out petroleum usage, and shift to alternate energy productions. Just imagine that. Imagine trying to fight a war from a forward operating base surrounded by fields of windmills and solar panels. It’s a strategic nightmare. But Bluelight can change all that.”

  “Just what in the hell is Bluelight, anyway?” Pierce intoned.

  Copeland checked his screen again then stood up. “So you don’t know. What a surprise. In a nutshell, it’s free energy.

  “The Earth is surrounded by a shell of antimatter particles. They’re created by the sun and radiate outward in the solar wind. The Earth’s magnetic field scoops them up, one anti-proton at a time, and there they stay until they eventually decay. In some areas, where the magnetic field is especially strong, there are large anomalies, but you can find them almost everywhere if you know where to look.”

  “You’re harvesting antimatter?” Nina said. “Sounds like something from Star Trek.”

  Copeland seemed to take that as a compliment. “We don’t harvest it. The Bluelight system fires a proton beam into the magnetic field. The protons and antiprotons annihilate each other, just like in the warp core reactor, and produce charged plasma high above the atmosphere. The plasma throws off a lot of loose electrons, which conduct back to the source. We use the lightning to charge an array of batteries. In just eight minutes, the prototype Bluelight device can produce enough electricity to run a small city for an entire day.”

  Mayfield nodded. “A portable version, small enough to fit in the back of a truck, could power an entire army base. So you see, shutting it down is not an option.”

  “Don’t you realize what’s at stake here?” King persisted. “Those creatures are going to keep coming.”

  “We’re ready for them this time. There can’t be that many of them left.” Mayfield cocked his head sideways. “Wait, is that why you’re here? Trying to protect endangered species, or some crap like that?”

  As if to underscore his statement, a soldier stepped into the room from the foyer. “Sir, we’ve engaged the hostiles. And there’s something else.”

  The building must have been heavily insulated, because until the door opened, King hadn’t heard any noise from outside. Now, the room was filled with the percussions of thunder and gunfire.

  “On my way,” Mayfield said. As he reached the door, he turned to King again. “I’ve got soldier work to do. You three stay here and keep out of Dr. Copeland’s way. Bluelight stays on. End of story.”

  32.

  Sokoloff was only half a mile from his goal, when the GPS display blinked off and was replaced by the message:

  Signal Lost.

  An instant later, the mist started to rise from the ground. The urgency in his employer’s demand made a lot more sense. Earlier, the mist had preceded the appearance of the creatures by only a few seconds. The hitman stomped the accelerator to the floor and focused his attention on the building directly ahead.

  A bolt of lightning bisected the horizon right in front of him. He winced, blinded momentarily, but kept going. Another flash followed, simultaneous with the boom of thunder from the first, and in the instant where the sky lit up like daylight, he saw shapes emerging from the mist.

  An unfamiliar tingle of panic rippled through Sokoloff’s body. He had squared off against some of the deadliest men on the planet, and always emerged victorious, but these animals were nothing like his human prey. Executing the contract—killing King and earning ten million dollars—suddenly didn’t seem nearly as important as just reaching the safety of the building. Of course, there was no guarantee of safety there…or anywhere.

  A dark shape rose up in front of him. He ducked instinctively as the Humvee thudded into the creature, knocking it up onto the hood and against the windshield. Dazed, but probably not dead, the creature blocked his view of the road ahead. There was another thump and the right side of the truck bounced into the air as the wheels rolled over an obstacle that hadn’t been there a moment before. The jolt was enough to dislodge the creature on the hood and it rolled to the side, just as another lightning bolt stabbed out the sky.

  The creatures were all around him now. Dozens ran ahead of him, seemingly oblivious to his approach. Other
s came up alongside and slapped at the aluminum exterior of the Humvee, as if trying to grab onto it and hold it in place. Sokoloff wiggled the steering wheel back and forth, knocking the creatures back, as he raced headlong into a hellstorm.

  The muzzle flash of machine gun alerted him to the presence of soldiers guarding the facility. He hoped that they would believe him to be one of their own and use their firepower to give him cover for his mad dash; the alternative was too terrible to contemplate.

  As he closed the gap, he left the trailing creatures behind and came up on the vanguard. Lost in their primal rage, three of the beasts went under his tires, and then he was in the clear. A few of the soldiers waved him on frantically, little suspecting that he had already killed five of their comrades, and would kill as many more as it took to accomplish the contract. He aimed the truck for a gap between two of the parked Humvees and skidded to a halt, surrounded by a score of stridently cracking carbines and light machine guns.

  As he got out, one of the riflemen scrambled up into the turret of his vehicle and got behind the machine gun mounted there. Sokoloff ignored him, and was himself ignored as the soldiers gave their full attention to the advancing threat. Sokoloff made a show of looking for a target, even as he melted back from the skirmish line. King and the others were nowhere to be seen, but the abandoned Humvee he had passed on the way in was evidence enough that his target was nearby. If King wasn’t out here, then there was only one place he could be.

  The hitman took one last look around to ensure that he wasn’t being observed, and then ducked through the doorway.

  33.

  As the door closed, plunging them back into silence, King tried again. “Dr. Copeland, I overheard your conversation with Brainstorm. We both know that you need to shut it down, at least until you can understand these other effects. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Copeland started at the mention of Brainstorm, but then sagged back into his chair. “What difference would it make now? The general is right; the soldiers will mop up those creatures and that will be the end of it.”

  “And if he’s wrong?” Pierce said. “I’ve been down there, in the caves where they live. There aren’t just a few, or even a few dozen. There might be thousands of them, and your machine is calling them like a dog whistle. How long do you think those soldiers can last against an onslaught like that?”

  “They only have to last eight and a half minutes,” Copeland sighed.

  King leaned down to look the physicist in the eye. “That’s twice now you’ve mentioned eight minutes.”

  “We don’t want to run Bluelight longer than that. With each proton annihilation, the local atmosphere heats up. If it gets hot enough, the gases in the atmosphere will spontaneously enter a state of runaway fusion. If that started, the Earth’s atmosphere would catch on fire.”

  Nina was incredulous. “Oh, you have got to be kidding. It never occurred to you that this might be a bad idea?”

  “The thermal effects are completely manageable. I monitor the temperature constantly throughout the process to ensure that it never goes anywhere near critical. Eight and a half minutes is the upper limit of the green zone. It’s this other thing that—”

  The sudden cacophony of battle indicated to them all that someone had just entered the control room. King glanced over at the approaching soldier and wondered how the battle was going. “That other thing has taken dozens of lives. You’ve got to stop it, right now. You’ve surely got enough data to figure what it is about the process that drives these creatures nuts. Shut it down until you can come up with a fix.”

  Copeland nodded slowly, and King knew he’d finally gotten through to the man. He placed a reassuring hand on the physicist’s shoulder and turned his chair around to face the computer terminal.

  He heard Pierce speak to the soldier who had just entered. “Sergeant De Bord?”

  Two voices spoke, almost at exactly the same moment. The first was the electronically produced and amplified female voice of Brainstorm. “Dr. Copeland, you must disregard Mr. Sigler’s request. A complete activation cycle is the only way to ensure that the threat is neutralized.”

  The second voice was completely unfamiliar. “My apologies, Dr. Pierce, but I fear I have misled you. I am not De Bord.”

  Something about the Russian accent sent a chill down King’s spine.

  34.

  King knew without looking that the newcomer was pointing a weapon at him. “Just tell me one thing,” he said. “Is this guy working for you?”

  There was a pause, and for a fleeting second, King feared he’d read the scene wrong. Then Brainstorm responded. “Whom are you addressing, Mr. Sigler?”

  “Who do you think? This is all your show, right? The remote-control puppet master? I know that you’re the money behind Bluelight. I just want to know if you’re also the reason I’ve got a gang of Russian hitmen chasing me all over the country.” King turned slowly toward the ersatz soldier. “I only ask because if he pulls the trigger like I think he’s about to, he’s just as likely to kill Copeland. Now, if he’s not working for you…”

  “You have made a valid point, Mr. Sigler. Mr. Sokoloff, please avoid doing anything that might harm Dr. Copeland.”

  King breathed a silent sigh of relief that his hunch had been right. Brainstorm had been behind the attempted killing in New York, and now it seemed his hired assassin was here to finish the job. He recognized the man’s name. Ivan Sokoloff was probably the most notorious hitman ever to have lived, with an alleged body count of nearly five hundred victims. Officially, he’d been found murdered, but many had suspected what King now knew to be the truth: he had faked his death and gone underground.

  He seized on this slim advantage, turning to Copeland. “I bet you didn’t realize the kind of people you’re dealing with. Your research is safe, DARPA will fund you, but you can’t take your orders from Brainstorm anymore. Shut it down.”

  “Dr. Copeland, you have your instructions,” Brainstorm said quickly. “Allow the test to continue.”

  “No,” Copeland seemed to sit up a little straighter. “He’s right. This is insane. We should have suspended operations after the first incident. I’m turning Bluelight off.”

  “Dr. Copeland, if you continue with this course of action, it will be necessary to compel you with the threat of lethal force.”

  “Lethal…?”

  “Mr. Sokoloff, if he does not move away from the workstation immediately, you are authorized—”

  The end of the threat was lost as the report of Sokoloff’s M4 filled the room. Blood sprayed across the computer screen and Copeland slumped forward, his head smashing into the keyboard.

  King reacted instantly, diving over the desk as Sokoloff triggered another burst. The 5.56 millimeter rounds scorched the air where he’d been standing. He shouted, “Run!” and then kept moving, scrambling for cover, but there weren’t many places to hide and the exits were all completely exposed.

  King’s mind clicked into combat mode; everything he saw was evaluated on its potential for use as a defensive weapon or to provide cover against incoming fire. Unfortunately, the cheap pressboard desks and tables didn’t offer much of either, and he realized he was going to need some kind of miracle to stay alive.

  What he got was no miracle.

  35.

  Pierce kicked himself for not having seen through the phony soldier’s fake accent. But never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that one of the Russians who had attacked them in New York, would follow them here, masquerade as a soldier and then actually help him survive a foray into the underworld, all in an effort to get closer to King.

  When the first shot was fired, he grabbed Nina’s hand and pulled her down behind a table. He heard King’s admonition to run, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere to go. Still, putting a little distance between them and the gunman seemed like a good idea.

  The door burst open and over the incessant crack of thunder, a bone-chilling wail filled the
room. Pierce suddenly realized that taking a bullet had just become a secondary concern. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three of the towering hairy creatures rush into the room, eyes red with rabid fury. With Nina’s hand still locked in his, Pierce zigzagged through the maze of workstations, racing for the door at the far end of the room. Behind him, the crunch of wood and plastic being demolished indicated that the invading creatures were taking a more direct route.

  Pierce flung open the door and rushed through into the middle of a dimly lit hallway. There was an exit sign to the right, but going back outside was a frying pan to fire proposition, so he veered left. There were several closed doors lining the hall, and Pierce tried the knob of the first one he came to. Locked.

  “Find one that’s open,” he shouted. “I’ll take the left side.”

  Nina dashed past him to test the doors on the right side of the hall, while he moved down to the next. Locked again.

  “Got one!”

  At almost the same instant that Nina shouted, the door back to the control room exploded off its hinges and slammed into the opposite wall.

  Pierce whirled and leapt across the short distance to the open office where Nina urged him on. As soon as he was through, she slammed the door behind him.

  Pierce saw that they were in a lunchroom. The two tables and a scattering of chairs offered nothing in the way of a hiding place, but he saw a way to put the refrigerator against one wall to use. Nina divined his intent, and working together they quickly rolled the heavy appliance across the floor and positioned it in front of the door.

  “That’s not going to stop them,” Nina warned.

  “I know.” He scanned the room again, looking for anything that might help them survive the assault. He dashed over to the sink counter and yanked open the cupboard. The space was occupied by a small refuse can and a few bottles of cleaning supplies, but he saw that there might be room for a person of slight build to hide there. He cleared the area out with a sweep of his hand. “Hide in here.”