Area 7

by Matthew Reilly

  "What?"

  "First principles. We have to even things up, but to do that, we need knowledge. Rule Number One: know your enemy. Okay. So who are they?"

  Janson shrugged. "The 7th Squadron. The Air Force's crack ground unit. The best in the country. Well trained, well armed..."

  "And on steroids," Gant added.

  "More than just steroids," another voice said.

  Everyone turned.

  It was the scientist, Herbert Franklin.

  "Who are you?" Schofield said.

  The little man shuffled nervously. "My name is Herbie Franklin. Until this morning, I was an immunologist on Project Fortune. But they locked me up just before you all arrived."

  Schofield said, "What did you mean, 'more than just steroids'?"

  "Well, what I meant was that the 7th Squadron men at this base have been... augmented... for want of a better word."

  "Augmented?"

  "Enhanced. Improved for better performance. Ever wondered why the 7th Squadron does so well at interservice battle competitions? Ever wondered why they can keep fighting while everyone else is falling over with exhaustion?"

  "Yes..."

  Franklin spoke quickly: "Anabolic steroids to enhance muscle and fitness levels. Artificial erythropoietin injections for increased blood oxygenation."

  "Artificial erythropoietin?" Gant repeated.

  "EPO for short," Herbie said. "It's a hormone that stimulates production of red blood cells by the bone marrow, thus increasing the supply of oxygen in the bloodstream. Endurance athletes, mainly cyclists, have been using it for years.

  "The 7th Squadron are stronger than you, and they can run all day long," Herbie said. "Hell, Captain, these men were tough when they got here, but since their arrival they have been augmented by the latest pharmacological technology to fight harder, better and longer than anybody else."

  "Okay, okay," Schofield said, "I think we get the picture."

  He was thinking, however, of a small boy named Kevin, living fifty feet away, inside a glass cube. "So is that what you do here? Is that what this base is all about? Enhancing elite soldiers?"

  "No..." Herbie said, casting a wary glance over at the President. "The augmentation of the 7th Squadron troopers is only performed as an ancillary task, since they guard the base."

  "So what the hell is this place?"

  Again Herbie looked at the President. Then he took a deep breath before answering...

  It was another voice, however, that spoke.

  "This base houses the most important vaccine ever developed in the history of America," it said.

  Schofield spun.

  It was the President.

  Schofield appraised him. The President was still wearing his charcoal colored suit and tie.

  With his neatly combed light-gray hair and familiar wrinkled face, he looked like a middle aged country businessman - albeit a businessman who had been sweating hard for the last hour.

  "A vaccine?" Schofield said.

  "Yes. A vaccine against the latest Chinese genetic virus. A virus that targets Caucasian people by way of their pigmentation DNA. An agent known as the Sinovirus."

  "And the source of this vaccine...?" Schofield said.

  "...is a genetically constructed human being," the President said.

  "A what?"

  "A person, Captain Schofield, who since the embryonic stage of his existence has been purpose-built to withstand the Sinovirus, whose very blood can be harvested to produce antibodies for the rest of the American population. A human vaccine. The world's first genetically tailored human being, Captain, a boy named Kevin."

  Schofield's eyes narrowed.

  It explained a lot - the tight security surrounding the complex, the presidential visit, and a boy living inside a glass cube. He was also struck by one other aspect of what the President had just said: the president knew his name.

  "You created a boy to use as a vaccine?" Schofield said. "With respect, sir, but doesn't that bother you?"

  The President grimaced. "My job is not made up of black and whites, Captain. Just gray, infinite gray. And in that world of gray, I have to make decisions - often difficult ones. Sure, Kevin existed long before I became President, but once I knew about him, I had to make the call to continue the project. I made that call. I may not like it, but in the face of an agent like the Sinovirus, tough decisions are necessary."

  There was a short silence.

  Book spoke. "What about the prisoners downstairs?"

  "And the animals. What are they used for?" Juliet said.

  Schofield frowned. He hadn't seen Level 5, so he didn't know about any animals or prisoners.

  Herbie Franklin answered. "The animals are used for both projects, the vaccine and the 7th Squadron augmentation. The Kodiak bears are utilized for their blood toxins. All bears have extremely high blood-oxygen levels for use when they hibernate. The blood enhancement research for the 7th Squadron came from them."

  "So what about the other cages, the water-filled ones?" Janson asked. "What's in them?"

  Herbie paused. "A rare breed of monitor lizard known as the Komodo dragon. The largest lizard in the world, about thirteen feet long, as big as a regular crocodile. We have six of them."

  "And what are they used for?" Schofield asked.

  "Komodos are the most ancient reptilian species on earth, found only on the scattered middle islands in Indonesia. They're great swimmers - been known to swim between islands - but they're equally fast on land, easily capable of running down a man, which they do regularly. Their internal antibiotic system, however, is extraordinarily robust. They are all but impervious to illness. Their lymph nodes produce a highly concentrated antibacterial serum that has protected them against disease for thousands of years."

  The President said, "The Komodo dragons' blood byproducts have been reconfigured to match the structure of human blood, and as such form the basis of Kevin's immune system. We then harvest Kevin's genetically constructed blood plasma to produce a serum that can be inserted into America's water supply - a serum-hydrate solution - thereby immunizing the general population against the Sinovirus."

  "You spike the water supply?" Schofield said.

  "Oh, it's been done before," Herbie said. "In 1989, against botulinum toxin, and in 1990 - because of Iraq - against anthrax. Although Americans don't know it, they're resistant to all the world's major biological weapons."

  "What about the human prisoners?" Book II asked. "What are they here for?"

  Herbie looked to the President, who nodded silently. The little scientist shrugged. "The human prisoners are another story altogether. They're not here to provide any sort of blood byproduct or serum. Their role is simple. They're guinea pigs for the testing of the vaccine."

  "Jesus Christ," Gant breathed when she saw the list of prisoner names.

  After Herbie had told them the purpose of the prisoners downstairs, he had brought up a list of their names on one of the laboratory's computer terminals.

  There were forty-two of them in total, all multiple lifers or death-row candidates who had somehow escaped the chair.

  "The worst of the worst," Herbie said, nodding at the list of names.

  Schofield had heard of many of them. Sylvester McLean - the child-murderer from Atlanta. Ronald Noonan - the Houston baker turned clock-tower sniper. Lucifer Leary - the serial killer from Phoenix. Seth Grimshaw - the notorious leader of the Black League, an ultra-violent terrorist organization that believed the U.S. government was preparing America for a United Nations takeover.

  "Seth Grimshaw?" Gant said, seeing the name. She turned to Juliet Janson. "Wasn't he the one who...?"

  "Yes," Janson said, glancing nervously at the President over on the far side of the lab. "In early February. Just after the inauguration. He's a genuine 18-84."

  Gant said, "Oh, man, do I hope their cages are sturdy."

  "All right. Great," Schofield said. "which brings us back to the here and now. We're shut in here. T
hey want to kill the President. And because of the radio transmitter on his heart, if he dies, fourteen major cities go up in smoke."

  "And all right in front of the people of America," Janson said.

  "Not necessarily," the President said, "because Caesar wouldn't know about the LBJ Directive."

  "What's the LBJ Directive?" Schofield asked.

  "It's a feature of the Emergency Broadcast System, but known only to the President and the Vice-President. It's essentially a safety valve, brought in by Lyndon Johnson in 1967, to stop the BBS from being used too soon."

  "So what does it do?"

  "It provides for a forty-five-minute delay of any broadcast sent over the system, unless a presidential override code is entered. In other words, except in the most urgent circumstances, it stops a panic broadcast from being sent out, effectively allowing for a forty-five-minute cooling-off period.

  "Now, since it's 8:09, Caesar's initial broadcast has got out there, but if we were to find the BBS transmission box inside this complex, we could stop all his subsequent transmissions."

  Schofield pursed his lips, thinking. "That has to be a secondary consideration. Something to do only if we happen to be in the right place at the right time."

  He turned to Herbie. "Tell us about this complex."

  Herbie shrugged. "What's there to know? It's a fortress. Used to be NORAD headquarters.

  When it shuts down, it shuts down. The thing is, I don't think anyone ever expected it to be used to keep someone locked in."

  "But even a total lockdown must have a release procedure," Schofield said. "Something which opens the doors when the crisis is over."

  Herbie nodded. "The time lock."

  "Time lock?"

  "In the event of total lockdown, a timer-controlled security system is activated. Every hour on the hour, those people still alive inside the base have a five-minute window period to enter one of three possible codes."

  "What kind of codes?" Gant asked.

  "Remember," Herbie said, "this facility was intended for use in a full-scale U.S.-Soviet nuclear exchange. The codes reflect that. As such, there are three possible entry codes."

  "The first code simply continues the lockdown. The nuclear crisis is still going, so the facility remains locked down. The second code assumes the crisis has been resolved. It calls an end to the lockdown - armored blast doors are retracted and all entrances and exits are reopened."

  "And the third code?" Gant asked.

  "The third code is a halfway measure - it allows for messenger escape. It authorizes title opening of individual exits and entrances for messengers to leave the facility."

  Schofield was listening to Herbie carefully.

  "What happens when no code is entered during the hourly window period?" he asked.

  "You're fast, Captain. You see, that's the kicker, isn't it? If no code is entered, the complex's computer is warned that the facility may have been taken by the enemy. It then gives you one chance to reenter one of the other codes at the next hourly window period. If no code is entered at that time, then the computer assumes that the facility has been taken by the enemy, at which point the facility's self-destruct mechanism is activated."

  "Self-destruct mechanism?" Brainiac blurted. "What the fuck is that?"

  "A one-hundred-megaton thermonuclear warhead buried beneath the complex," Herbie said simply.

  "Oh, Christ..." Brainiac said.

  Gant said, "Surely they removed that when the Soviet Union collapsed."

  "I'm afraid not," Herbie said. "When this base was reconfigured as a chemical weapons facility, it was decided that the self-destruct device still had value. If there was an accident and a virus spread throughout the facility, the whole contaminated complex - virus included - could be destroyed by a superheated nuclear blast."

  "Okay," Schofield said, "so if we want to leave, we have to wait for the hourly window period, find a computer connected to the central network, and then enter the correct code."

  "That's right," Herbie said.

  "So what are the codes?" Schofield asked.

  Herbie shrugged helplessly. "That I don't know. I can initiate a lockdown if there's been an outbreak, but I don't have clearance to undo one. Only the Air Force guys can do that..."

  "Uh, excuse me," Juliet Janson said, "but aren't we forgetting something?"

  "Like what?" Brainiac said.

  "Like the Football," Janson said. "The President's briefcase. The one that's been rigged to stop him from escaping this complex. He has to press his palm against the analyzer plate on the Football once every ninety minutes, otherwise the plasma bombs in the cities go off."

  "Damn it," Schofield said. He had forgotten all about that. He looked at his watch.

  It was 8:12 a.m.

  This had all started at 7:00 a.m. Which meant they had to get the President's hand onto the Football by 8:30.

  He looked up at the others. "Where are they keeping the Football?"

  "Russell said it would be kept in the main hangar, up on ground level," the President said.

  "What do you think?" Gant said to Schofield.

  "I don't think we have much choice. Somehow, we have to get his hand onto the Football."

  "But we can't keep doing that forever."

  "No," Schofield said, "we can't. At some point, we'll have to come up with a more long-term solution. But until then, we deal with the short-term ones."

  Janson said, "It'd be suicide to bring the President out into the open upstairs, they'll almost certainly be waiting."

  "That's right," Schofield stood up. "Which is why we don't do that. What we do is quite straightforward. We bring the Football to him."

  "The first thing we have to do," Schofield said, rounding everyone up, "is take care of those security cameras. While they're still operating, we're screwed." He turned to Herbie Franklin. "Where's the central junction box in this place?"

  "In the Level 1 hangar bay, I think, on the northern wall."

  "Okay," Schofield said. "Mother, Brainiac, I want you guys to take care of those cameras. Cut the power if you have to, I don't care, just shut down the camera system. You got me?"

  "Got it," Mother said.

  "And take Dr. Franklin with you. If he's lying, shoot him."

  "Got it," Mother said, eyeing Herbie suspiciously. Herbie gulped.

  "What about the rest of us?" Juliet asked.

  Schofield headed toward the short ramp that led to the wide aircraft elevator shaft.

  "The rest of us are going upstairs to play some football."

  * * *

  "...System reboot is complete..." "Status?" Caesar Russell asked.

  Ten minutes previously, during Caesar's second BBS broadcast, the entire complex had experienced an abrupt power shutdown, causing all its interior systems to switch off.

  "...Confirm: main power supply has been cut," one of the radio operators said. "We're running on auxiliary power now. All systems operational."

  "...We lost that enhanced satellite image of the EEV that was coming through. Renewing contact with the satellite now..."

  Another operator: "Copy that. Main power supply was switched off at the Level 1 junction box at exactly 0800 hours, by operator 008-72..."

  "8-72?" Caesar frowned, thinking.

  "...Sir, we have no visual feed. All cameras went down with the cutting of the main power supply..."

  Caesar's eyes narrowed. "All units, report in."

  "...This is Alpha," Kurt Logan's voice said. "Initiate frequency swap. Possibility that enemy has obtained some of our radio equipment..."

  "...Frequency swap complete," the senior operator said. "Go ahead, Alpha Leader..."

  "...We are in the Level 2 hangar bay. Heading for the personnel elevator for rendezvous up in the main hangar. Report six dead..."

  "...This is Bravo Leader, we're up in the main hangar, covering the Football. All men present and accounted for. No casualties..."

  "...This is Charlie Leader. We are m
oving in tandem with Echo through the common worn area on Level 3. We have one dead, two wounded from that AWACS shit before. Understand targets were last sighted on Level 4. Preparing for joint assault through floor-to-ceiling hatches between 3 and 4. Please advise..."

  "...Charlie, Echo, this is Control. We have lost all visual contact on the Level 4 lab area..."

  "Engage at will, Charlie and Echo," Caesar Russell cut in sharply. "Keep them moving. They can't run forever."

  "...This is Delta. We are still on 5. No casualties. By the time we broke down that door on 5, the targets had already gone up the ramp to Level 4. Be advised, there is substantial flooding in the Level 5 confinement area. Awaiting instructions..."

  "...Delta, this is Caesar," Russell said coolly, "head back down to Level 6. Cover the X-rail exits."

  "...Affirmative, that, sir..."

  Twenty black-clad 7th squadron commandos hurried down one of the corridors of the Level 3 living area, their boots thundering on the floor - the men of Charlie and Echo Units.

  They came to a pressure-sealed manhole in the carpet. A code was entered and the circular hatch came free with a sharp hiss, revealing a crawl space between the floor of Level 3 and the ceiling of Level 4. Another pressure hatch lay directly beneath this one - the entry to Level 4.

  One of the commandos lowered himself through the manhole.

  "Control, this is Charlie Leader," Python Willis said into his headset mike. "We are at the manhole leading to the observation lab on Level 4. Preparing to storm the floor from above."

  "Do it!" Caesar's voice replied.

  Python nodded to his man in the crawl space. The commando released the pressure valve and let the hatch drop to the floor ten feet below him. Then he jumped down to the ground after it, three others close behind him, their P-90's aimed and ready.

  Nothing.

  The lab around them was empty.

  There came a loud mechanical rumbling from within the walls.

  The 7th Squadron men whirled around as one.

  It was the sound of the hydraulic aircraft elevator platform.

  The commandos of Charlie and Echo Units hurried down the short sloping walkway that ledfrom the observation lab to the aircraft elevator shaft.

  They got there just in time to see the underside of the giant elevator platform rising up into the shaft above them, heading for the main hangar.