Had she checked? Or was she somewhere else in the building?
His bet was that she was somewhere in the building, so he began a room-by-room search. What he found was…nothing.
For the first time, he felt angry. If she got away, she would surely bring others back. And if that happened, the IDM would be discovered, which might snowball to others being found, too.
How long before she might return? Minutes? Hours? A day?
No, not a day. At best, hours, but even that might be unrealistic.
There were contingency plans for situations such as this. The payload of this particular IDM would have to be destroyed immediately. Each of the devices was equipped with one of two different types of self-destruct mechanisms. This particular mechanism would superheat the interior to the point where the metal of the box itself would melt, and there would be nothing left for anyone to know what was inside. Perez preferred the boxes that simply exploded, but this would do.
He returned to the box, used the master combination to open one of the side doors, then engaged the self-destruct. To give himself enough time to get away, he set it on a ten-minute delay. If the girl and whoever she brought arrived before then, too bad. They’d be consumed by the blaze. If not, then there’d be nothing left to prove her story. Even the bodies of the two men would be gone.
Ten minutes. That would be more than enough.
__________
PATRICIA HEARD THE board in the floor creak in the room just on the other side of the wall. She stopped breathing, afraid that even a slight sound might be enough to give her position away. If it had been Rodrigo, he would have called out her name, but whoever it was hadn’t said a word.
Another creak, this one closer to the wall.
He’s going to see the rat hole. He’s going to see the rat hole and know I went through it.
She could hear him approach the hole. In her mind’s eye, she saw him kneeling down, examining the opening, sticking his head in just enough so that he could look down the inside of the wall to her hiding spot behind the fireplace. She was so sure that was exactly what was going to happen, she at first refused to believe her ears when the sound of the floorboards grew fainter and fainter.
Not only did he not look through the hole, he wasn’t even in the room anymore. The breath she’d been holding rushed out of her lungs.
He didn’t know she was there. He didn’t know. Her elation lasted mere seconds, though. What about Rodrigo and Uncle Hector? If the man’s walking around, had they gotten away? Or…
She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t think about it. If she did, she’d start screaming and the man would know where she was.
She forced herself to calm down. She had to assume it was up to her to get away and find help. But how? She couldn’t just crawl back through the rat hole and leave the way she’d entered the building. He’d said the opening through the cabinet was blocked off, so it would take time for her to clear it. He’d see her for sure. And if he had hurt either of the other two, they might need immediate help, so waiting until the man left wasn’t an option. She couldn’t hear him anymore, so it would be very unlikely she’d know when he was gone. In fact, she thought it was a very good possibility that he wouldn’t leave at all but silently wait her out instead.
Patricia wasn’t about to give up, though. Her brother and uncle were relying on her.
She looked around her cramped space, wishing there was some other way she could get—
Is that the sky?
Above her a slit of light glowed through an open seam in the ceiling. Could she get there? Was there a way to get through the old part of the roof if she did?
Once more she scanned her surroundings, but with different focus this time. The walls were out of the question. If she tried to climb them, there was no way she’d be able to do so without making a lot of noise. Plus, there was the very real possibility they might collapse under her weight.
There was another option—the chimney she’d been leaning against. It ran all the way up to the ceiling. In fact, the crack she’d seen might very well be where the roof met it. She twisted around and gave the stacked stones a closer inspection.
It wouldn’t be easy, but if she was careful, she thought she could do it. Not could, she corrected herself. She had to do it. She would do it.
Examining each stone before she grabbed it, she began to climb. A little over halfway up, without thinking, she put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The wood groaned from the pressure, and she immediately froze in place. For half a minute, she did nothing but listen for the man, sure he would check the noise, but as far as she could tell, he hadn’t returned. Maybe he just thought it was the normal settling sound of the structure. Or maybe he was gone.
She continued upward, moving past the height of the ceilings in the rooms, and into what had probably been the attic. Exposed beams, no floor, and not enough room for her to stand up if there had been. About twenty feet to her left, she could see where the attic had been sealed off, and beyond would be the recently installed removable roof.
The original roof was about four feet above her head. She could almost reach it with the tips of her fingers. She looked for a new spot on the chimney where she could grab and pull herself the rest of the way up, but there were no good options. She would have to use the beams, which meant noise.
She looked up again. The roof was definitely weak. She felt confident she could tear through it pretty quickly, but fast enough to make an opening, climb through it, then get off the roof and run for safety before the man came outside and found her?
Did she have any other choice than to try?
No. She didn’t.
Once she started moving, she’d have to keep going, every second critical, so she needed to plan it all out. She checked the roof, looking for the best spot to break through. She settled on an area a few feet beyond the chimney, where it sagged as if the addition of a single leaf on top would cause it to completely collapse. Hopefully, it would take little effort to finish the job herself.
She took a deep breath, and another, imagining what she needed to do. She placed her hands on the beams to either side, slowly transferring her weight, and was pleased that they made little sound.
“Up. Through the roof. Down to the edge. And run,” she whispered to herself as if giving an order.
Then, just as she was about to move, she heard a whoosh.
Out of reflex, she looked toward the part of the house the noise had come from, the part where the container was.
What is that?
Rather than fading away, the sound continued. Whatever it was, it was scaring the hell out of her.
Go! Go! A voice in her head screamed.
Not her voice. Rodrigo’s or maybe Uncle Hector’s. Maybe both.
She pulled herself up onto the beams, no longer concerned about the noise she might make. She needed to get out of there. That’s all she knew. She needed to get out of there now.
She forced her fingers into one of the cracks near the bottom of the sag in the roof, and pulled with all her strength. The ceiling groaned and cracked and protested for as long as it could, then broke free.
While Patricia had tried to position herself as best as possible, part of the roof glanced off her arm. She fell backward toward the hole she’d had just climbed up through. The only thing that kept her from falling all the way to the ground was the beam she caught with her arm.
As she pulled herself back up, she could feel heat coming from somewhere in the house.
Fire!
With renewed horror, she scrambled to the break in the roof and climbed outside. She couldn’t see the fire, but she could smell it now. There was an unfamiliar tang to it that was repulsive. She gagged and nearly threw up as she slid down the slope of the roof to the eaves. The second she got there, she took a quick look at the ground and jumped.
Safely away from the house now, she glanced back. Smoke had begun to billow out of cracks in the buildi
ng, but that was nothing compared to the heat. It almost felt like she was walking on the sun.
Run, the voice ordered. Run. Run!
Patricia ran.
18
I.D. MINUS 7 DAYS
RICHARD HEATH HEARD shoes echoing off the concrete floor, heading in his direction. As much as he wished it was another member of the depot’s security team, he knew it wasn’t. No, it was one of them. Because, unless he was completely mistaken, he was the last one of NB328’s detail left alive.
What he couldn’t understand was how the attackers had snuck into the facility without sounding any alarms. It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet it had happened.
Initially, he and his colleagues had thought it was simply some kind of raid to steal whatever could be grabbed. That was the type of incursion the security team had prepared for and been told by those above them in the Project to expect, but it quickly became clear that this wasn’t a group of local thugs just looking for something they could sell. The people who snuck in were professionals who worked silently, and they had eliminated most of the security detail with single shots from sound-suppressed weapons.
Heath had no idea why he was still alive.
Luck? Not hardly.
If he’d been lucky, he’d already be dead. One against God-knew-how-many? He didn’t have a chance. He checked his gun. Only five shots left. The way he figured it, that meant four for them, and the last for himself.
Dammit! Who the hell were these people?
The steps were much closer now. Surprisingly, he realized it was only a single pair. Did they not know he was here? Or did they think he was already dead? Whatever the case, the person walking in his direction didn’t seem to be concerned that he might put a bullet through their head.
He leaned against the crate closest to the end of the aisle, and wrapped both his hands around the butt of his gun. A little closer, he thought as he listened. Just a little closer, and at least I can take out one of you.
The warehouse was as big as an American football field, and, full or not, the sounds inside were deceiving. Though the steps were still headed in his direction, he couldn’t be sure if they were thirty feet away or seventy. He should be able to hit the target at both distances, but he wanted to ensure that he didn’t miss, so the closer the other person was, the better.
With a suddenness that surprised him, the steps ceased.
Fifty feet for sure, maybe closer. He breathed deeply, trying to psych himself up. Just do it. Just roll out and take the—
“Hello. You hiding back there. I know you can hear me.” The voice was female, coming from where the steps had stopped. “I’m sure you realize there’s no way you’re getting out of here, so I’m guessing you’re probably trying to figure out how you can do the most damage while you have an opportunity. It’s the way I’d be thinking, anyway. I should tell you, though, no matter what you try, you won’t succeed.”
The hell I won’t!
Knowing it was now or never, the guard twisted out from the cover of the crate, and brought the barrel of his gun around to point at the spot where he knew the woman would be. His first shot left the chamber before he registered what he was seeing.
Rather, what he was not seeing. Where the woman should have been standing was…nothing.
He swung the gun left and right, looking for her, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest movement.
“Sorry to disappoint,” she said, far closer than he expected.
Even before he could respond to her voice, something hit him in the chest, and his whole body seized in uncontrollable spasms. His gun flew from his hand as he fell writhing to the floor.
Finally, the source of the pain stopped.
A Taser, he realized, his mind able to focus again.
He lay panting on the floor, every muscle weak and tingling from the massive jolt of electricity. Though his mind was screaming at him to get up, he knew that was impossible.
He heard movement, then footsteps walking right up to him.
Clack, clack, clack.
It was over. His end was coming. He trembled as the woman stopped beside him. She had short blonde hair, and what he would have called an Eastern European face—high cheekbones, slightly Asiatic eyes, and full lips. He had never seen her before.
“Go ahead. Do it,” he said, his eyes glancing quickly at the gun in her hand.
She leaned down and touched something near his waist. When she stood again, she was holding his security badge.
“Good. You have full access.” She smiled at him. “Relax. It’s not time for you to die yet.”
__________
“SIR, WE’VE RECEIVED a message I wanted to make you aware of.”
The DOP looked up from this computer. Major Ross had entered the conference room at the back of the Cradle, and was standing just inside the door. “What is it?”
“An emergency signal from NB328.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“A break-in, sir.”
The DOP frowned. “Verified?”
“No, sir. It was the automated signal. We haven’t been able to reach the security team there yet.”
“Where is NB328?” While the DOP was familiar with their storage depot locations, he didn’t even try to remember what each had been designated.
“Costa Rica. Outside Carrizal.”
Carrizal. A basic storage depot if he wasn’t mistaken: food, clothing, fuel, some vehicles, and the standard weapons cache. Nothing particularly special about it.
“How long have they been out of contact?”
“We just received the message. I came straight here.”
The DOP considered their options. If they weren’t so close to Implementation Day, he would have automatically said they should just wait for someone at NB328 to check in, but time was one thing they no longer had. “How quickly can you get someone down there to check?”
“There’s a team in Monterrey, Mexico, but they’d have to fly commercial, so it would be at least four or five hours. There is another option.”
“Yes?”
“Perez, in South America. He finished up with the job in Argentina last night, and is flying to Colombia as we speak. He should be landing in thirty minutes. He could refuel and be in Costa Rica in under two hours. The drawback, of course, is that he’s alone.”
“Send him, and get the Monterrey team moving, too. Perez can scope out the situation, and if it’s more than he can handle on his own, the team will be there soon enough.”
“Very good, sir.” Ross turned to leave.
“Major?”
“Yes?”
“Keep me in the loop. I want to know everything that’s going on.”
“Yes, sir.” Ross left.
The DOP returned his attention to his computer terminal, but instead of continuing what he was doing before, he brought up the specs on NB328. It was just as he recalled—a basic depot.
Potential raids on the warehouses had always been a possibility. The world was a violent place, and stores of goods were vulnerable. Because of this, the security had been beefed up at all the depots in anticipation of Implementation Day, so he was confident the team at NB328 could deal with whatever the problem was. If they ran into problems and losses were incurred, it would be unfortunate, but negligible when it came to its effect on the Project as a whole.
He switched back to his previous screen, certain that the matter would be satisfactorily resolved.
__________
AS WITH ALL the Project’s warehouses, there was a vault on the lowest level, protected not only by the secured entrance to the underground floors, but also by an impenetrable composite door on the vault itself. Impenetrable by force, at least, not if you had the key.
Karie and Gleason accompanied Olivia and the prisoner in the elevator to NB328’s lowest level. When the door opened, Gleason pushed the man out, and Karie and Olivia followed.
There was no need for directions. While each of the facilitie
s might vary in size, all were laid out basically the same. This way, if personnel had to be moved between locations, they could jump in immediately without the need of an orientation period.
Olivia led the way, passing contingency dormitories and the medical wing before turning down the short hallway to the vault. The first door they came to was similar to the others on this level, the only difference being that it needed to be opened via a security code.
“Enter the code,” Olivia told the guard.
“No way.”
She’d expected that response. She looked at Karie and held out her hand. “Radio.”
The woman handed it to her.
Raising it to her lips, Olivia said, “We’re outside the vault room entrance. Looks like we’re going to need that information.”
“Got it right here,” a voice came back, crisp and clean. “You were correct, ma’am. Mr. Heath does have family on the survival roster.”
The guard tensed.
“A sister and a teenage niece. They live in Arlington Heights, outside of Chicago. Both have already been administered the vaccine. You want their address?”
Olivia looked at the guard, an eyebrow raised in question. “Do I need it?”
“No,” he said, then punched the code into the keypad.
The room inside was about the size of a small studio apartment. Along the opposite wall was the actual door to the vault. It had a blue-gray sheen and fit flush with the wall. There was a control panel mounted to the left.
“You know what I want,” Olivia said to the guard. “And you know what we’ll do to your family if you don’t cooperate.”
“And if I do?” he asked. “You’ll leave them alone?”
“As long as you do as I ask, yes.”
He studied her face as if trying to determine if she was telling the truth. She was, but only because it would be a waste of time to bother with his family.
Exit 9 (A Project Eden Thriller) Page 13
