“Axle may be bent,” Ray said, staring into the gully.
Ted turned to Poppy. “You’ve got the GPS coordinates for the pit. Keep moving. We’ll try to get this free. If we have to, we’ll follow on foot. We’ll catch up shortly, one way or the other.”
Poppy nodded. Ryan and Kieran followed him back to the Sierra.
Minutes later they were moving along the edge of the trench that had caught Ted’s truck, looking for a way to continue north.
Adam’s hands trembled as he walked around the slope from the west, into view of the SUV and van lights illuminating the surface surrounding the pit entrance. The dexys were at full intensity now, shooting him through with an energy and clarity that could light up the night. Maybe he’d overdone it with three tabs, he thought, clenching and unclenching his fists. His pulse was pumping so loudly it nearly covered the grunts of the men passing debris up the submerged staircase and out onto the slope in a bucket brigade.
But he’d get through it. He just had to keep it contained while they got all this finished.
Adam cast one more glance over his shoulder at Emerson’s SUV, parked out of view of the work area. He’d made the right decision to leave the girl handcuffed in the car, out of sight of the team. It would make things simpler and leave him more options.
He approached the entrance to the pit where the Chief stood, his hands on the hips of the black suit and his mask in one hand. He turned as Adam joined him.
“Any luck?” Emerson asked.
Adam shook his head. “No. Doesn’t matter, though. How much more?”
“We’re just finishing up now. You said to leave the four body bags outside of the railcars, with extra powerful charges to atomize them, right?”
Adam nodded.
“Well, I’ll check to be sure that’s set. Greg had the rest of the explosives already in place the last time I went inside. You can see we removed the door and left it inside as well.”
“Good. Chief, I know we planned for you to set off the charges, but I’ve decided to do it myself. I want you to go back to the railyard with the others.”
Emerson squinted with surprise. “You sure?”
Adam nodded firmly. “Yes. Have Greg rig it for a single trigger.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Emerson replied. “Stay at least thirty yards back. When you let it go, the whole ceiling of the chamber should come down. The train will be under thirty feet of rock—it’d take excavators weeks to reach it. With the extra charges on the bodies, those should be mostly dust. Six months and a couple of fall rains and there’ll scarcely be any sign the chamber was ever opened in the first place.”
“Good,” Adam said. “Listen, I’ll bring your SUV back myself tonight, alone. Catch a ride with one of the others. And have them leave one Demron suit.”
Emerson’s eyebrows rose. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
Adam watched the men, like black ants in their suits, hauling the last of the accumulated debris down the slope. Emerson began to don his mask as he took a step toward the pit entrance.
Adam grabbed his arm. “One more thing, Chief. I don’t anticipate any problems, but I want you to spread the word with the crew here tonight. If there is any trouble down the road—if the government decides any of this was handled improperly—I’ve made a contingency plan. In the event any of them are arrested for whatever reason, you let them know I’ve set up a fund that will pay for their attorneys. And if by some off chance anybody’s convicted, their family will get five hundred thousand dollars a year for every year they spend . . . away. Guaranteed, payable annually.”
Emerson’s eyes widened. “You’re not kidding?”
Adam shook his head quickly. “I’m not. Don’t alarm them. Things will be fine. But if something happens, those are the wages for their loyalty and silence.”
The Chief was shaking his head now. “But you’re not saying what we’re doing here is . . . unsanctioned.”
“You’re correct, I’m not saying that. I am saying that there’s always politics where the defense industry is involved, and we’re the tip of the spear on this mission. If there’s any misunderstanding, we’ll take care of them. Just as I said.”
The Chief looked at Adam closely. “Okay. It might spook them a little, but I’ll spread the word.”
The Chief walked up the slope, still shaking his head.
These men believed they were working for a cause. Emerson and the other security personnel were bright enough to suspect they were crossing lines here and there. But mostly, especially given their psychological profiles, they would believe the government would protect them.
Foote would lecture that the belief was enough, because he placed his faith in the power of loyalty. Adam believed in the power of loyalty, supplemented by lots of money. And since Adam was lower on the food chain, and the person these men could identify, he was going to use his own discretion on this one.
Especially since he controlled the budget.
Chapter 53
They’d parked nearly a mile from the pit, according to the Garmin. Now Ryan was leading Kieran, with Poppy lagging, across the desert on a careful trot. Poppy and Kieran were carrying the rifle, while Ryan held the single hazmat suit they’d brought along.
Any closer, Poppy had warned, and Worth and the others might hear the engine the way sound carried over the desert, even driving slowly. Ryan had reluctantly agreed. Still, making their way in the dark, without flashlights, was taking forever. And all the gullies and rocks in their path had made them later getting there than Ryan had ever imagined.
In the near distance, maybe half a mile still, they heard the sound of approaching engines. Without a word, all three dropped to the ground.
They were on a gradual downward slope here. Below them, they saw headlights appear. A caravan of cars and vans emerged from around a hill, their headlights growing brighter as they curved along an invisible road headed east. It took nearly five minutes for them all to pass at their deliberate pace.
Maybe they were too late, Ryan thought frantically, watching the caravan taillights disappearing. Was it possible Emily and Heather were in one of those cars? Or had they gotten away and were now approaching the egress point?
Still grasping the suit, Ryan had just pushed off the ground to stand when a thought that had been playing at the back of his consciousness came front and center. It was a statement Poppy had made earlier on the drive, about an Australian.
“Poppy,” he began, “before Ted’s truck hit the gully, you said something about getting an Australian.”
“Yeah.”
“Who were you talking about?”
The guard looked quizzically at Ryan in the dark. “Adam Worth, of course. He’s got an accent. I’m pretty sure it’s Australian.”
Stunned, Ryan asked for a description. Wiry. Intense. Red hair. Maybe late twenties.
The insurance salesman, Ryan thought as a frenzy of anger washed over him. It had to be. Larry Mann was Adam Worth.
The last of the vehicles disappeared around the ridge. Adam turned and walked back to Emerson’s SUV around the slope to the west.
The girl was gagged in the rear of the vehicle, her hands cuffed together, with another set of cuffs shackling her to a metal loop directly behind the front seat frame. Adam glanced at her. Her eyes flashed a look that alternated between anger and pain.
He’d gathered that she’d injured her shoulder before he’d found her, probably a fall from her horse. Now he could also see that she was shivering.
He started the SUV and drove around the ridge. They’d placed the explosives trigger on the desert soil nearly fifty yards back from the pit opening, beside a four-foot boulder. A Demron suit was heaped next to the trigger.
Adam parked the SUV. Pivoting in his seat, he unlocked the girl’s cuffs from the loop, then got out and walked to the rear hatch.
He probably could have been gentler, but he was too tired and too anxious to finish all this to even make the
effort. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her out onto the ground.
She slammed to the earth, letting out a sharp gasp of pain. Adam grabbed the cuffs and dragged her to her feet, eliciting another cry through clenched teeth.
The opening to the pit, now without its door, was like a black gash in the hillside. The handcuffed girl was in too much pain to resist as he pulled her toward it, dropping her at the foot of the yawning hole. There, Adam pulled on his Demron suit, frustrated at the necessity for it. He exchanged the HEPA mask for the Demron one, still sweaty from the man who’d just used it. Then he hauled the girl to her feet once more and forced her down the steps into the darkness ahead of him.
Ryan was well ahead of the others by the time he rounded the ridge and came into view of a single SUV parked a distance back from a slope with its lights on. He turned toward the familiar ground to his left. Several dozen yards uphill, the pit was open wide.
By the time Kieran approached from behind, Ryan had the hazmat suit mostly on. He was just preparing to don the mask when Poppy appeared, puffing hard, the rifle clutched in one hand.
Poppy’s phone buzzed. He pulled the cell from his pocket, raising it to his ear.
His eyes widened. “Okay,” he whispered at last. Lowering the phone, he looked to Ryan.
“That was Ted,” Poppy said softly. “Heather just got out. She hadn’t brought her phone, so she couldn’t call before. But she says Emily didn’t make it. She fell somewhere out on the grounds.”
Fear refueled the anger that still smoldered in Ryan’s chest. He turned and trotted to the SUV. It was empty. He returned to where he’d placed his phone when he’d donned the hazmat suit. Silently, he pressed in Emily’s number.
The faint sound of Emily’s ringtone floated, disembodied, on the night air. The sound of it was distant and small.
It was coming from the opening to the hole.
Ryan dropped his phone. Turning to Poppy, he grabbed the rifle from his hand and ran to the slope, starting up at a sprint.
Kieran caught him a few feet from the mouth of the hole, nearly passing him in an effort to enter. Ryan shifted the mask to his rifle hand and reached for Kieran’s shoulder, squeezing hard. The boy looked at him with wild eyes.
No, Ryan mouthed, pointing to the hazmat suit he now wore, the only hazmat suit they’d brought along. Kieran shook his head, looking back toward the hole. Ryan squeezed the shoulder once more, then pushed Kieran back into Poppy’s waiting arms.
Ryan glanced at the narrow glass visor on the mask and let it drop to the ground before stepping into the gaping darkness.
Chapter 54
In the narrow glare of his flashlight, Adam could see that the Hart girl was terrified, the fear far eclipsing the pain. She was cuffed now to the cargo door of the second boxcar. The four body bags were at her feet, wrapped in a dozen or more cubes of the powerful C4 explosive.
Adam looked at her with a faint glimmer of pity. He wondered why her father had sent her alone tonight. Part of him also wondered why she wasn’t trying to talk to him. Perhaps it was the fear. It would have made no difference, but he was curious nonetheless.
He stood for a moment longer, running his conclusions a final time through the racecourse of his mind. After talking with Emerson and before the crew departed, he’d checked the gathered debris in each of the vehicles. Last year, he’d catalogued every bit of it himself. Based upon the lists he’d brought with him tonight, nothing appeared to be missing.
Which meant that Ryan Hart likely had no evidence. It had been a bluff. Though the man clearly knew where this pit was located, he had nothing to show for it.
Then why had the Hart girl come out this evening?
It didn’t matter, now that the debris was gone. It would be taken to the railcars Emerson had arranged at the Hanford railyard, and from there by special transport to New Mexico—as they’d always planned on doing eventually. The only catch was it was no longer possible to consider simply closing up the white train cavern again. It had to be collapsed—as Greg had rigged the charges to do. And with the explosions, they would also disintegrate and obliterate evidence of the scientists’ bodies.
And now, the girl’s too.
He had no choice about the Hart woman. It was impossible to let her go now. Of course, her disappearance would lead to a search—and form the basis for her father’s demand that this site be excavated.
If they were very fortunate, Hart’s demands would not be met. After all, he would have to acknowledge illegal access to the reservation grounds to even explain them. Then he would have to weave an involved story justifying them—after already having caused a reaction at LB5 by his incessant and off-base insistence on inspecting that location.
Even if the authorities agreed to dig at this site, there was a chance they would not excavate a full thirty feet of rock to the level of the white train before concluding there was nothing there. And if, in the last extremity, they dug all the way down, they would find the white train demolished and crushed—and the remains so reduced as to be unnoticeable in the depths of the excavation.
Adam had made a final set of contingency plans if he was wrong: new IDs, money in multiple foreign accounts, everything that access to almost unlimited Project funding could buy. Plus, his ultimate bonus should arrive eventually. After all, the lab and successful trigger prototypes were already on their way to other Covington labs. Cameron Foote valued loyalty and success; he’d keep his promise to Adam. Given Adam’s knowledge, Foote really didn’t have any choice in the matter.
Adam took the flashlight off of the girl’s frightened eyes. There was still one piece of evidence he had to deal with himself—one that neither the security crew nor anyone else knew about.
He walked to the locomotive, half buried in the nose of the shaft, and took the half a dozen steps up to the cab. There he pulled a key from his pocket, one that opened the heavy padlock and chain that sealed the cab door. Adam heard the girl cry out—in fear, he presumed—as the padlock released. Then he pulled the chain free and opened the door.
The bagged body of Lewis Vandervork lay on the cab floor where he’d placed it last October. Inside the bag, at his side, Adam knew his rifle lay.
If this man could have been silenced in any other way, Adam would have done so. But he knew in an instant of interviewing Vandervork that that was impossible. The idiot had even called his girlfriend the very night of the explosion, ignoring orders. This was the only silence possible for a person like Vandervork. Now he had to get the body onto the cavern floor with the others.
Setting the flashlight on the floor of the locomotive, pointed to the ceiling, he grabbed the end of the heavy bag and began to drag it to the door of the cab.
He heard the sound of metal on metal.
Adam twisted in his suit. A figure stood at the bottom of the stairs, faintly visible in the moonlight through the pit opening. Someone in a hazmat suit like his own.
Adam leaned across the body bag. He cursed his trembling fingers within the Demron gloves and the limited vision of his mask. He finally grasped the zipper and pulled it toward him—revealing Vandervork’s black shoes. Alongside the shoes lay the rifle butt.
Adam slid the rifle out and stood. The mask, already sweaty, was filling with a faint sheen of fog. Adam grabbed and yanked it off his head—then turned to shoulder the weapon, struggling to steady his hands.
Ryan took the metal steps as softly as he could manage in the foreign hazmat suit. The flashlight was in his pocket. The rifle he held at his waist.
The space below was illuminated in a ghostly white reflection. Halfway down the stairs, Ryan could see the source. His eyes followed a light that was moving from left to right, its glow illuminating the side of a train car painted white. It was held by a man in a black suit and hood—an image so bizarre that Ryan felt disoriented, as though he were watching a priest tending a modern Pharaoh’s tomb.
He slowed to a stop. The man and his light began to climb up the steps
of what appeared to be a locomotive. The figure bent over and for a moment grew still. Then Ryan heard metal and the sudden rattling of a chain.
In that same instant, an anguished cry of pain and fear emerged from the darkness to his left. Ryan’s heart was pierced with recognition.
He fumbled in his pocket for the flashlight, turned it on, and pointed it to the source of the sound.
Emily was illuminated, kneeling on the ground beside the open door of another white railcar. At her feet lay four gray body bags, interlaced with wiring and a dozen cubes of what had to be C4.
Ryan turned and pounded down the remaining steps. The flashlight bumped the metal banister, slipping from his hand and clattering to the lowest step—just as he reached the floor of the cavern and looked up.
The figure was above him now, the light steadily pointing toward the ceiling of the pit. The suited figure must have heard him, because he was turning, rising from a crouch to a standing position. A rifle was suddenly in one hand. His other reached up and pulled off the covering over his head. Then he raised the rifle to a shoulder, pointing it in Ryan’s direction.
Even in the weak reflection of the light against the railcar, Ryan instantly knew the face. It was Larry Mann. It was Adam Worth.
Ryan raised his own weapon and dropped instinctively to one knee. He barely steadied the barrel at the figure before pulling the trigger.
The explosion of the rifle fire echoing in the confined chamber was ear shattering. Then Ryan realized there was more than one, that two echoes were overlapping, the gunshots chasing one another in a slowly fading rhapsody of sound.
Ryan felt a stinging in his side, but he ignored it as he prepared to pull the trigger again.
Except the standing figure was gone. In front of the light, Ryan could see that it had dropped again into a crouch mirroring his own, the weapon drifting down. Then it crumpled to a still mass on the floor of the cab.
Ryan picked up the fallen flashlight and turned frantically toward the source of the painful cry as the twin echoes of the rifle shots slowly faded away.
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