pretty resourceful operative who might have caused a train wreck or two in the process. When he was quote-unquote ‘retired,” it was all done over a pay phone, okay?”
“You think that’s what this is all about?”
“You know, I think it is,” Lynn said.
“Dad and I have talked about this before. There’s been a lot that’s come out about the Chinese spy case since then. I think he was afraid he was becoming more and more of a major loose end. He knew firsthand what can happen to a loose end, especially these days.”
The kerosene lamp guttered, and Janet got up to light a second one to replace it.
“How do you know all this?” she asked.
Lynn drew her sweater closer about her.
“Dad and I talked a lot after my mom was killed and he was forced out. I son of made it a condition of our reconciliation. I told him I had to know about him and what he did, not operational details, of course, but why my mother had been so afraid.
Why she said some of the things she said.”
“Which weren’t true.”
Lynn looked up at her. She had Kreiss’s intense gray-green eyes, Janet suddenly realized. Eyes that knew too much and had seen too much.
“But that’s the point, Agent Carter,” Lynn said.
“Most of it was true.”
Janet remembered the hunting woman’s face, with eyes like those on a great white shark. Play “Misty” for me. She shivered. Then they heard the dogs.
Browne McGarand rubbed the itchy new stubble rising on his clean shaven face again as he drove the rental down the back side of the arsenal.
It was nearly sundown, and he was looking for the entrance to an old logging road that led back to the western perimeter fence. He planned to drive the little car up the logging road as far as he could and then hide it.
Then he would walk to the perimeter fence and go north along the fence until he got to the point where the creek entered the federal reservation.
Unlike the creek’s exit point, it wasn’t very big, and they had just run the fence atop of it, laying down some concrete culverts. Once inside the two fences, it was a mile’s walk to the bunker farm and to bunker 887.
He had prepared his bolt-hole in the bunker field early in the project.
It was in the remotest part of the ammunition-storage area. They had cut the rusty series padlock and unsealed the air-circulating ventilator fixture at the back of the bunker, converting the ventilator trunk into an escape hatch. Halfway down the bunker’s empty length, he
and Jared had constructed a fake partition of studs and plywood, creating a smooth wooden surface that ran from top to bottom. Jared, an able carpenter, had done most of the work, including building in a single flush-mounted door.
They then painted the side of the barrier facing the bunker doors a flat black. The idea was to make it look to anyone shining a flashlight quickly into the partially buried bunker that it was as empty as all the rest. He had taken this precaution after watching the security patrols for a few weeks and seeing them occasionally pick a bunker at random, unlock the heavy steel doors, and poke their flashlights in for a moment. The barrier wouldn’t stand a thorough search, of course, especially if someone restored electricity to the bunker farm and turned on each bunker’s main lights.
Jared had then taken the old padlock to a swap meet up in Harpers Ferry, to a guy who claimed to be able to find a key for any lock. Since the Army’s padlock was part of a series, the locksmith had been able to produce a master key. Then all they had to do was to lift a padlock from another bunker, well removed, and put it on their hideout. That way, they could keep it locked but not raise flags when security encountered a lock not of the series. If the security patrols ever came upon the bunker that no longer had its lock, they would go in and have a look. But there would be nothing there and then they would simply replace it.
He had listened to an all-news radio station on the way down from Washington. The aTF headquarters bombing was the center of attention, of course, with excited reports of hundreds killed and major damage to the entire downtown area. Reporters on the scene gave breathless accounts of the shattered building, streets full of glass and office debris, and five fire companies and their EMTs working isolated bloody vignettes up and down Massachusetts Avenue. Spokespersons for the Treasury Department, Justice Department, FBI, and belatedly, the aTF had all made grave pronouncements about the growing threat of domestic terrorists, the need for increased resources, expressions of condolence for the victims, and determination to hunt down the perpetrators. One interview had been most revealing, when a reporter put a microphone in front of the bleeding face of an aTF agent who had been injured up on the roof deck of the parking garage. He had sworn a bloody oath to find the son of a bitch who had done this and blow his—word bleeped—head right off, an hysterical comment his supervisors would undoubtedly regret.
Over the course of the day, however, the reports were toned down significantly.
It was revealed that most of the building had been evacuated before the blast. Apparently, there had been a last-minute warning. There were indeed dozens of people injured, but most of these had been hurt in the street, or had not moved far enough away from the building when the top half was blown off. When he finally got to the logging road, they were reporting three civilian security men killed on the roof of the parking garage, twenty-six injured within the vicinity of the building, and the top four floors of the aTF building destroyed. By the time he switched off, speculation as to the source of the bomb and the motives behind it was driving any hard, factual news off the story.
He was sorry that he had not been able to kill them all, to drive an explosive stake into the heart of that agency and to immolate the Washington policy makers he held responsible for Waco once and for all else.
But there had been no disguising the sense of outrage and, behind the outrage, palpable fear in the voices of all those federal law-enforcement agency spokes persons They probably all thought they had paid for Waco in the Oklahoma City bombing. Now they would know that there were people out there who felt otherwise. He got to the end of the logging road and parked the car as far back into the trees as he could maneuver it. He sat in the darkened vehicle for a moment. If there had been aTF building security people injured in the parking garage, they must have known about the propane truck. In any event, the truck would have survived, but they would trace it back to West Virginia, not here to the Blacksburg area.
The gasoline incendiary he’d left behind in the cab should have taken care of any fingerprints. He was taking a mixed chance coming back here to the arsenal, but he still believed in the old rule about hiding things under people’s noses. Especially these people.
By the time the first dog hit the front wall of the hut, Lynn had the back door open and two lanterns lighted and ready to go. She waited in the narrow passage behind the hut while Janet wedged the little table against the front door. They both heard a man shout, “In here!” from the front passage, and then there was a huge commotion of dogs and shouting voices as someone brought a light into the passage and the hornets finally had a target.
As the voices and screaming dogs withdrew, Janet stepped through the narrow back door and shut it tightly. She had the .38 stuffed into her waistband holster and was struggling into her jacket. She looked for some way to block the back door, but there wasn’t one.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, picking up a lantern.
“They’ll be right behind us.”
“Not until they figure out a way to get past those hornets,” Lynn said.
Lynn led the way down the narrow passage behind the hut. The passage was seven or eight feet high, and the rock on either side was cold and damp. The trail beneath their feet was hard-packed dirt. Janet had pulled the fuse in the hut out into full view, hoping that whoever was hunting them would see it and slow down to check for booby traps. The passage went straight for fifty feet and then there was a cross passage,
with two more caverns opening into the intersection. Lynn consulted the map and chose the left branch. The noise behind them had subsided, but Janet knew the dogs would be coming soon, even if the men did not.
The passage they were in now was even narrower, and the roof came down the farther they went. The floor had turned to loose gravel, and they had to slow down to keep from turning an ankle. At one point, Janet lost her footing and sat down heavily, sliding on her backside for a yard or so before stopping. She managed to put her lantern out in the process.
“Leave it out,” Lynn said.
“We may need the fuel later.”
Janet got back up and hurried after the girl, who seemed to be doing just fine. She wondered if Lynn had been in the caves before. There was still no sign of pursuit behind them, for which she was very grateful. The air remained dank and oppressive. Janet was not exactly claustrophobic, but she was certainly aware of the mass of the mountain above their heads.
“Can you follow the map?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s pretty clear. There’s a pit coming up. Not sure what that means.”
They rounded a dogleg turn in the cave, the lone lantern throwing weird shadows along the ceiling, and Lynn stopped suddenly. They had entered a round chamber, which was about twenty feet wide. The ceiling domed up a similar distance. The path ahead skirted a perfectly smooth conical hole, which disappeared into the depths of the mountain. The top of the hole was almost as wide as the chamber. Lynn kicked a small rock off the trail. It slid down over the smooth edge of the hole and then disappeared without a sound. The bobbing lantern made the walls look like they were moving.
“That’s what “pit” means,” Janet whispered.
“Damn thing goes to China.”
“And we go that way,” Lynn said. She pointed with the lantern to the left side of the pit, where an eighteen-inch-wide ledge led around the lip of the hole and into another passage on the far side. The walls of the chamber curved up toward the top of the dome.
“Shit,” Janet said, “Look at that curving wall. What do we hold on to?”
Behind them came the sounds of something moving down the passageway.
“Duck-walk,” Lynn said.
“Now.”
She led the way, holding the lantern extended in her left hand to move her center of gravity closer to the wall. She squatted down, facing the hole so as to maximize the room between the side wall and the lip of the pit, then duck-walked sideways out onto the ledge. Janet followed, willing her eyes to look at Lynn’s bobbing back and not into the pit. They were halfway across the ledge when they distinctly heard a dog coming, its unmistakable snuffling sounds amplified by the narrow tunnel. There was nothing they could do; they couldn’t move any faster, and the dog would be on them in seconds. Suddenly, the lantern went out, and Janet gasped.
She froze in place, her left hand scrabbling against the damp rock, searching for something to hold on to. The darkness was absolute, and she was terrified.
“Don’t move,” Lynn hissed.
The dog, hearing her voice, barked once and kept coming. Judging by the size of that bark, it had to be a pretty big dog, and Janet could feel its presence when it launched into the chamber, accelerating down the path as it hunted the sound of Lynn’s voice and their fresh scent. Then there was an instant of complete silence, followed by a plaintive yelp as the dog sailed over the smooth edge of the pit and fell away into nothingness.
Janet heard a scratching sound, and then Lynn had a match going, relighting the lantern. She realized she had been holding her breath and now let it out in a small sob, and then Lynn was moving again, duck walking across the remainder of the ledge into a small antechamber beyond.
Janet followed, her knees and hips hurting. Her mouth was dry as dust and her heart was pounding.
When they got to the other side, Lynn stood up and grinned at her.
“Pretty good, huh?” she said, her eyes alight. Christ on a crutch, Janet thought as she carefully stood up, she’s enjoying this. But there was no getting around it: Lynn had done the one thing that eliminated the pursuing dog problem. There were two passages leading out of the chamber, and Lynn consulted the map.
“Left,” she said.
“We’re going on trail three.”
“Any more pits on that trail?” Janet asked in a strained voice. But Lynn was already moving into the smaller of the two passages, ducking
her head to get through. Janet took one last look at the pit chamber as Lynn’s lantern bobbed away: she shivered, then followed.
They tried to keep quiet as they pressed into the narrowing passage. It went level for a while, then dipped precipitously. The footing was now slippery clay, and they really had to slow down to keep from pitching headlong down the passage. Janet banged her lantern against the rock wall and thought she heard the glass crack. Lynn, six feet ahead of her, kept going for another fifteen minutes and then stopped and swore.
“What?” Janet asked, dreading another pit.
“No trail,” Lynn said, consulting the map.
“But I don’t see any other way to go.”
Janet came up alongside her. Lynn lifted her lantern. The passage had opened onto the edge of what looked like a very steep slope that disappeared down into the darkness. There was a faint movement of cold, wet air against her face, and then she realized they had come into a very large cavern, whose vaulted ceiling rose up out of the range of the lantern light.
“Jesus, this is huge,” Janet said. Her voice echoed out into space. They stood there for a minute, taking it all in, when they again heard sounds behind them, men’s voices and the excited yelping of dogs. They weren’t close, but they were certainly back there.
“That pit will slow them down,” Lynn said softly.
“But I don’t see any other way to do this.”
Janet looked down. They had forgotten to bring the sticks. The surface of the slope was loose rock and what looked like shale.
“You mean slide?”
“Yeah. This has to be the way. It’s been a straight shot so far. So it’s probably safe. I’ll go first. Hold this.”
She gave the lantern to Janet, turned around, and let herself out onto the slope. Her feet precipitated a small avalanche of stones and dirt, but she was able to maintain position on the slope. She reached for the lantern.
“You got matches?” she asked.
“Yes,” Janet said.
“Okay, light your lantern. I’m going to put this one out while I go down.”
Janet lit her lantern, and she saw that she had indeed cracked the glass.
The flame burned unevenly until she adjusted the wick. Lynn doused her own lantern, then started down the slope, moving carefully to keep from starting a big slide and going with it. Janet held her lantern out as far as she could, while listening for sounds of pursuit. She could
just barely hear the men back there, but the cave distorted the sounds and she had no idea of how far back they were. She was more worried about dogs ranging ahead of the men. Then she heard a noise below her. Lynn swore as she lost control of her climb down the slope and began to slide. Janet leaned way out but could no longer see her down the slope. Based on all the noise, Lynn was going for a ride. After a minute or so, the raiding noise of falling stones died out.
“Lynn?” Janet called, trying not to make too much noise.
“Yeah, I’m all right. Lemme get this lantern going. Then you come down. Douse yours before you try it.”
There was a flare of light below, and Janet could see that the slope ended about two hundred feet down. There was a glint of water at the base of the cliff. She could see Lynn’s light but not Lynn. She doused her own lantern and then listened again. The men’s voices were getting louder, but she still had no idea of how close they were. It sounded as if there were lots of them back there. Then she heard a dog barking eagerly, and the dog sounded a whole lot closer. She went backward over the edge and started down, getting into the rhythm of
a controlled slide while she protected the lantern. Lynn must have taken the loose stuff with her, because Janet got down to the bottom without going into an uncontrolled slide. She dusted off her hands and knees and got up. She stepped away from the slope and then turned around. In front of her was a vast lake, whose size she could only feel. The lantern light reflected only about fifty feet out onto its surface. She could get no sense of walls or the ceiling.
“Man, look at that,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s huge,” Lynn said.
“We go this way.”
She turned to their left and began picking her way along the shore of the lake, which was made up of small round stones, some larger boulders, and loose gravel. The mass of the shale cliff rose into total darkness to their left. The shoreline curved around slowly to the right, and they had to go slowly to keep from slipping into the water. Janet listened for sounds of pursuit, but now she heard nothing. They climbed over the treacherous footing for five minutes before arriving at a sheer rock face.
The gravel beach disappeared at the foot of the cliff. The water stretched out into darkness on their right, and the shale cliff rose on their left.
“Now what?” Janet asked.
Lynn studied the map.
“I think this must be the submerged ledge Micah was talking about.”
Suddenly, from way above and behind them, a dog barked once and then again, excitedly. Lynn took Janet’s lantern and raised it as high as she could to see how far across it was, but there was only the black water and the glimmering reflection of the lantern. The cavern wall rose on their left, black and sheer. The dog kept barking, and Janet realized there was no echo down here. This cavern must be really huge.
“Shouldn’t we douse the light?” Janet whispered urgently.
“We have to find the ledge,” Lynn said.
Hunting Season Page 45
