9:56.
Schofield yanked open the door and instantly heard shotgun fire echoing down the stairwell, followed by a loud "Arroooo!"
He shut the door quickly.
"Well, it's official," he said. "We have just arrived in hell."
"Four minutes to find the President," Book II said.
"I know. I know," Schofield looked about himself. "But to do that we have to get up into the complex somehow."
He stared out into the darkness of the underground railway station.
"Quickly, this way," he started racing down the platform.
"What?" Book II said, chasing after him.
"There's another way up into the complex. Those 7th Squadron guys used it before - the air vent at the other end of the platform!"
9:57.
The two of them reached the air vent.
Schofield tried his mike again, hoping he hadn't busted it during that swim through Lake Powell.
"Fox! Fox! Can you read me?"
Pop. Fizz. Nothing.
He and Book clambered into the air vent, hurried down its length, their boots reverberating with every step.
They came to the base of the vent's four-hundred-foot tall vertical shaft.
"Whoa," Book II said, looking up the shaft. It disappeared into black infinity.
9:58.
Schofield said, "Quickly, up the air vent. We use the cross-vents to reach the aircraft elevator shaft and then we cut across the platform and see if we can find them."
Schofield fired his Maghook up into the darkened air vent, delaying the activation of its magnet. The grappling hook boomed up the shaft, flying fast, before Schofield initiated its magnetic charge and immediately - whump! – the hook snapped left in midair, dragged sideways by its powerful magnetic pull, and attached itself to the vertical wall of the vent.
9:58:20.
Schofield went first, whizzing up into the shaft on the Maghook's rope. Book II came up behind him.
9:58:40.
They hurried into the nearest horizontal cross-vent, charged down it, the Football flailing in Schofield's spare hand.
9:58:50.
They came to the enormous aircraft elevator shaft. It yawned before them, shrouded in black.
The only light: some orange firelight way up at the top of the shaft winking through the tiny square aperture that usually contained the mini-elevator. The main platform, it seemed, was right up at ground level, up in the hangar there.
Schofield and Book II stood at the mouth of the cross vent. They were on Level 3.
Schofield brought his mike to his lips.
"Fox! Fox! Where are you!"
"Hey!" a familiar female voice echoed down through the shaft.
Schofield snapped to look up, brought his gunlight around.
And saw a small white spot - the beam of another barrel-mounted flashlight - blinking back at him from the other side of the shaft, but from one level above, from the massive hangar doorway of Level 2.
And above the flashlight, in the glow of its beam, Schofield saw the very anxious face of Libby Gant.
9:59:00.
"Fox!"
"Scarecrow!"
Gant's voice came through Schofield's earpiece loud and clear now. The water damage must have only affected its range.
"Damn it!" Schofield said. "I thought the elevator platform would be here!"
"The prisoners took it up to the main hangar," Gant said.
9:59:05.
9:59:06.
"Jesus, Scarecrow. What do we do? We only have a minute left..."
Schofield was thinking the same thing.
Sixty seconds.
Not enough time to go down to the bottom of the shaft, swim across, and come back up again.
And not enough time to shuffle hand-over-hand around the walls of the shaft, either. And they couldn't swing across on a Maghook - it was too far.
Damn, he thought.
Damn-damn-damn-damn-damn-damn-damn-damn.
"What about a Harbour Bridge? " Mother's voice came in over Schofield's earpiece.
The "Harbour Bridge" was a legendary Maghook trick. Two people fired two oppositely charged Maghooks in such a way that the two hooks hit in midair and stuck together. It was named after the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the famous Australian landmark that was built from opposite sides of Sydney Harbour, two separate arcs that ultimately met in the middle. Schofield had seen a number of Marines try it. None of them had succeeded.
"No," he said, "the Harbour Bridge is impossible. I've never seen anyone hit another Maghook in mid-flight. But maybe..."
9:59:09.
9:59:10.
He looked over at the President and Gant standing in the doorway to Level 2, gauged the distance.
Then he looked up - and saw the darkened underside of the aircraft elevator platform, way up at the top of the shaft.
Mother's suggestion, however, had given him an idea.
Maybe with two Mag hooks they could...
"Fox! Quickly!" he said. "Where is the mini-elevator?"
"Where we left it before, up on Level 1," Gant said.
"Go up to Level 1. Get on it. Take it up the shaft and stop it a hundred feet below the main elevator platform. Go! Now!"
Gant knew not to argue. There was no time. She grabbed the President and dashed out of Schofield's sight.
9:59:14.
9:59:15.
Schofield dashed past Book II, heading back along the horizontal cross-vent to the main vent.
He came to the vertical ventilation shaft and without even a blink, fired his Mag hook up into it again.
This time he waited until the Maghook had played out its entire one hundred and fifty feet of rope before initiating the grappling hook's magnetic pull.
As before, the Maghook's powerful magnetic charge yanked the upwardly flying hook sideways in midair, and it thunked hard against the metal wall of the vent, and held fast.
9:59:22.
9:59:23.
Schofield whizzed up the shaft again.
This time Book II didn't go with him - Schofield didn't have the time to send the Maghook back down for him. He'd have to do this alone, and besides, he needed the Maghook...
Schofield shot up the shaft on the Maghook's rope, the air vent's close steel walls rushing past him on all four sides. He stopped the hook's reeling mechanism as he came to another crossvent three levels up - but still a hundred feet below the main hangar. He charged into the cross-vent.
9:59:29.
9:59:30.
Came to the aircraft elevator shaft again. The underside of the giant elevator platform loomed closer now, only a hundred feet above him. He could hear the gunshot blasts and catcalls of the prisoners up in the hangar and wondered for the briefest of moments what on earth they were doing up there.
9:59:34.
9:59:35.
And then, by the light of his barrel-mounted flashlight, he saw the mini-elevator whizzing up the concrete wall on the other side of the massive elevator shaft. The small figures of Gant, Juliet, Mother and the President were on it.
9:59:37.
9:59:38.
As the mini-elevator drew level with him, Schofield said, "Okay! Stop there!"
The mini-elevator jolted to a halt, now diagonally opposite Schofield but separated from him by a sheer concrete chasm two hundred feet wide.
And so they faced each other, from opposite sides of the enormous shaft.
9:59:40.
"Okay, Fox," Schofield said into his radio. "I want you to fire your Maghook into the underside of the elevator platform."
"But it's not long enough to swing across on..."
"I know. But two Maghooks will be," Schofield said. "Try and hit the platform about a quarter of the way across. I'll do the same from this side."
9:59:42.
Schofield fired his Maghook. With a loud, puncturelike whump, the hook flew into the air, flying diagonally up into the shaft.
And then - clun
k! - the magnetic head of the hook affixed itself to the underside of the elevator platform.
9:59:43.
Clunk! A similar noise came from the other side of the shaft. Gant had done the same with her Maghook.
9:59:45.
9:59:46.
Schofield held his Maghook with one hand. Then he opened the Football, revealing the countdown timer inside it - 00:00:14...00:00:13 - and held it by its handle, folded open.
"Okay, Fox," he said into his mike. "Now give the rope to the President. We've got twelve seconds now, so we'll only get one shot at this."
"Oh, you have got to be kidding," Mother's voice said.
On the other side of the shaft, Gant gave the Maghook's launcher to the President of the United States. "Good luck, sir."
Now, Schofield and the President stood on opposite sides of the great concrete elevator shaft, holding on to the diagonally stretched ropes of their respective Maghooks, looking like a pair of trapeze artists about to perform their act.
9:59:49.
9:59:50.
"Go!" Schofield said.
And they swung.
Out over the shaft.
Two tiny figures, on two equally tiny threadlike ropes.
Indeed, as the two of them swung in mirroring pendulum like arcs, they did look like trapeze artists - swinging toward each other, aiming to meet in the middle, Schofield holding out the open briefcase, the President reaching forward with his outstretched hand.
9:59:52.
9:59:53.
Schofield reached the base of his arc, started coming up.
In the dim light, he saw the President swooping in toward him, a look of sheer terror plastered across his face. But the chief executive swung well, gripping his rope tightly, reaching forward with his right hand.
9:59:54.
9:59:55.
And they came close, rising in their pendulum motion, reaching the extremities of their arcs...
9:59:56.
9:59:57.
...and, four hundred feet above the base of the elevator shaft, swinging in near total darkness, they came together, and the President pressed his outstretched palm against the analyzer plate in Schofield's hand.
Beep!
The timer on the Football instantly reset itself.
00:00:02 became 90:00:00 and the clock immediately began counting down once more.
As for Schofield and the President, having briefly shared the same space of air four hundred feet above the world, they now parted, swooping back toward their respective starting points.
The President arrived back at the mini-elevator platform, where he was caught by Gant, Mother and Juliet.
On the other side of the elevator shaft, Schofield swung back to his cross-vent.
He landed lightly on the edge of the tunnel, breathing deeply with relief, the stainless-steel Football hanging open in his hand.
They'd done it. At least for another ninety minutes.
Now all he had to do was get himself and Book over to the President. Then they'd be back in business.
Schofield reeled in his Maghook, then turned to head back down the cross-vent to get Book -
Shuck-shuck
Three men were blocking his way - men wearing blue jeans but no shirts. They also brandished pump-action Remingtons and they variously had tattooed chests, bulging biceps, or no front teeth.
"Reach for the sky, pardner," one of the shotgun-toting prisoners said.
* * *
Caesar Russell charged through the low concrete Escape tunnel.
The three remaining men from Alpha Unit ran in front of him. Kurt Logan hurried along behind.
They'd just left Harper and the others in the control room to be captured by the escaped inmates, and were now bolting down the escape-passageway, racing for the point where it met the top door exit.
They rounded a bend, came to a heavy steel door half buried in concrete, keyed the code. The door opened.
The top door's exit tunnel appeared before them, heading right and left.
To the right... freedom, via the exit that opened onto one of the exterior hangars here at Area 7.
To the left, around a bend, the regular elevator shaft, and... something else.
Caesar froze. He saw a combat boot protruding around the corner that led to the regular elevator shaft.
The black combat boot of a dead commando.
Caesar stepped closer.
And saw that the boot belonged to the horribly bloodied body of Python Willis - the commanding officer of Charlie Unit, the 7th Squadron unit that had been bringing Kevin back to Area 7.
Caesar's face darkened.
Charlie Unit lay dead before him. And Kevin was nowhere to be seen.
Then Caesar saw the mark on the wall next to Python Willis's dead fingers, a symbol scrawled in blood, a final gesture from Charlie Unit's commander before he'd died.
A single capital "E".
Caesar just stared at it, pursing his lips.
Logan came up beside him. "What is it?"
"Let's get to the secondary command post," Caesar said flatly. "And when we get there, I want you to find out what's happened to Echo Unit."
* * *
Shane Schofield emerged from the air vent hatch underneath Marine One, flanked by the four heavily armed prisoners. He no longer carried the Football. One of his captors now held it like a new toy.
As he slid out from underneath the Presidential helicopter, he thought he heard clapping and shouting... and then suddenly - boom! - a gunshot made him start. The shot was quickly followed by a loud roar of approval.
Then another booming gunshot - and more cheers and applause.
Schofield felt his blood run cold.
What the hell was he walking into?
He emerged from beneath Marine One and immediately saw about thirty prisoners, their backs to him, gathered around the central aircraft elevator platform.
In the time since his capture in the air vent down below, the massive platform - with the tangled remains of the destroyed AWACS plane still on it - had been lowered about ten feet below the floor-line of the hangar and halted, so that now it formed a gigantic square-shaped pit in the center of the hangar.
The mob of inmates was crowded around the makeshift pit, looking intently down into it like gamblers at a cockfight, shaking their fists, shouting and cat-calling. One shaggy-looking individual was screaming, "Run, little man! Run! Run! Ha-haaaaa."
They were the most motley crew Schofield had ever seen.
Their angry faces were covered in scars and tattoos. Each prisoner's uniform had been tailored to his own personal tastes - some had ripped off their shirtsleeves and turned them into headbands, others wore their shirts open, others still, wore no shirts at all.
Schofield was marched over to the edge of the pit. He looked down into it.
Amid the maze of AWACS plane pieces that littered the square concrete hole, he saw two blue-uniformed Air Force men - young men and, judging by their perfectly pressed uniforms, office bunnies, radio operators probably – running like frightened animals.
In the pit with them were five burly inmates - all armed with shotguns - prowling through the maze, hunting the two hapless radio operators.
Schofield saw the bodies of two more radiomen lying in pools of blood in separate corners of the pit: the cause of the cheers he had heard moments before.
It was then, however, that to Schofield's horror, a small band of prisoners emerged from the other side of the hangar.
In the midst of this new group of inmates, Schofield saw Gant, Mother, Juliet... and the President of the United States.
"Tell me this isn't happening," he breathed to himself.
* * *
Down in the darkness of the Level 1 hangar, Nicholas Tate III, Domestic Policy Adviser to the President of the United States, gazed nervously up into the elevator shaft.
The President and his three female protectors hadn't returned from their trip up the shaft
on the detachable minielevator, and now Tate was worried.
"Do you think the inmates got them?" he asked Hot Rod Hagerty.
They could hear the shouts and gunshots from up in the main hangar. It was like standing outside a stadium during a football match.
"I hope not," Hagerty whispered.
Tate continued to stare up into the shaft, a thousand thoughts flickering through his mind, most of them relating to his own self-preservation. A minute passed.
"So what do you think we should do?" he said at last, without turning around.
There was no reply.
Tate frowned, spun around. "I said..." He froze.
Hagerty was nowhere to be seen.
The Level 1 hangar stretched away from him, shrouded in darkness, the only presence, the shadows of the gigantic planes inside it.
Tate's face went blank.
Hagerty was gone.
Vanished... silently, instantly... in the space of a single minute.
It was as if he'd just been erased from existence.
A lightning bolt of fear shot through Nicholas Tate.
Now he was alone, down here, in a locked-down facility filled with treacherous Air Force commandos and the nastiest collection of murderers known to man.
And then he saw it.
Saw a glint of light on the floor a few yards away from him, at the spot where he had last seen Hagerty standing. He went over to it, picked it up.
It was a ring.
A gold officer's ring.
Hagerty's graduation ring from Annapolis.
* * *
The last two radio operators didn't last long.
As the final shots rang out from within the pit, Schofield and Gant were shoved together, the others beside them.
"Hey there," Gant said.
"Hi," Schofield said.
After Schofield and the President's daring trapeze act, Gant and her team hadn't fared any better than Schofield had.
No sooner had the President swung back onto the mini elevator than the little platform had jolted suddenly and whizzed up the shaft - called by someone up in the main hangar.
They had risen up into the hangar and found themselves in the middle of a whole new nightmare.
The prisoners - the former test subjects for Gunther Botha's vaccine - were now in charge of Area 7.
Although there was no way she could have hidden their meager supply of guns, Gant did manage to hide her Maghook on their short ride up the shaft. It now lay clinging magnetically to the underside of the detachable mini elevator.
Area 7 Page 26
