“Base,” he radioed, “we’ve got another tree down.”
“Where?”
“Right on the fence. That’s what set off the sensors.”
“Can you fix it?”
“No chance. It’s crushed.”
“We can’t attempt large-scale repairs until tomorrow. You and Burns stay there to keep guard. Send Bravo Patrol back to the central compound. They’ll relieve you in a couple of hours. I want status checks every 15 minutes.”
“Roger that.”
Harding replaced the radio.
“You heard the man,” he said to the three other guards, who were all standing in front of the SUV, staring at the massive tree. “Looks like we’re pulling shit duty tonight.”
Harding heard a faint pop from the opposite tree line. Burns’ head flew back, and Harding smelled the blood shooting from Burns’ mortal wound for only a moment before his world went black.
* * *
The driver in Echo Patrol was the first to be taken out by the assault team’s snipers. Locke saw them adjust their silenced PSG-1’s and take aim at the other three guards. It was all over in less than two seconds, far too quickly for the guards to react.
The assault team had been monitoring the radio calls, so they knew when it was time to take the shots. The plan had worked just like Locke envisioned.
The ground was so wet that the trees’ roots were grasping at the soil to stay upright. He had remembered the windstorm that hit Seattle while he was gone had damaged trees all over the Puget Sound. With the ground still soaked, it wouldn’t take much to topple another tree.
He had selected one that was already tipping in the direction of the fence, enough to make sure he could control the direction of the fall. Then it was a simple matter of burying explosives from his bag of tricks in strategic locations around the base of the tree. He picked several with small charges so that they would sound like the crack of a rotten tree trunk when they went off. Using the ground-penetrating radar, they found the biggest roots. The shape-charges were placed so that they focused down at the largest of them.
The pine had fallen right across the fence. Literally in one fell swoop they had already cut a way through the fence, taken out four guards, had two vehicles at their disposal, and circumvented the motion detectors.
The team quickly crossed the 50 feet to the fence and went through the opening.
Locke saw the four bodies of the guards lying at the front of the SUV. The headlights were still blazing, showing the gory detail of the takedown. Locke felt no remorse for the surprise attack, not after all he’d been through in the last week.
“You heard the man on the radio,” Locke said to Turner. “We’ve got 15 minutes before they have to check in.”
“Right,” Turner said. “Let’s go.”
FORTY-EIGHT
The Lodge, as everyone called the Hydronast hotel building, was lit only sparingly. Once the main power to the Lodge was cut off, it would be completely dark. Given how many times he’d been in the Lodge before, David Deal thought he would be comforted by the building, but now the emptiness of it seemed disturbing. He had an eerie feeling that any minute the visions he’d had before would come back with a vengeance, and this time they wouldn’t be so benevolent.
He crossed the lobby and took the stairs to his room on the third floor. He’d told the faithful leader that he’d left some papers important to his work, but in truth what he’d left behind was something more valuable to him. He wouldn’t dare tell Sebastian Garrett that what he wanted special permission to retrieve was a letter that his daughter had written him long ago. A letter he had hidden under the mattress so it wouldn’t be discovered.
His wife had left him with their only daughter so that she could shack up with another man, a drug dealer who lured her into a life of debauchery and sin. Deal bid her good riddance. He could raise their daughter on his own. But two years later, his daughter succumbed to leukemia.
The loss devastated him, and he turned to religion to find answers. When his old church couldn’t satisfy him, he found his way to the Holy Hydronastic Church, which promised a utopian New World in the near future, something he would see in his lifetime. In the church, he found others like him, intellectuals who needed faith in something bigger than themselves, in which science wasn’t a boogeyman to be shunned but the answer he’d been seeking.
When he began having the visions during the Leveling, he became convinced Hydronasticism was the way he could find meaning in the world.
Then the faithful leader, Sebastian Garrett, revealed that the New World would be upon them soon and that David Deal was selected to be part of it. Deal didn’t know what it was, but Garrett promised them that after 90 days in seclusion in the underground waiting area, they would emerge to the New World, an earthly Eden that Deal would help shape.
Only a few in Garrett’s inner circle knew exactly what the New World meant, and though Deal was curious, he accepted the fact that he was not one of them. Garrett had told them that others might try to take away their Oasis, which was the reason for the extraordinary security measures — the guards, the fences, the guns, the passwords to get in and out of Oasis. This week, the safe word was “Searchlight,” and the warning word was “Heaven.” Deal was excited by the intrigue and the world yet to come.
Because he was taken into Oasis so hastily, he’d forgotten about the letter under the mattress. Normally, he kept it in a hidden pocket in his suitcase, but he read it every night before he went to sleep, so the mattress was a more convenient place for it. Only when he got to his quarters in Oasis did he realize that he’d left the letter behind. If the Lodge were burned or ransacked, he might lose the last communication from his daughter forever, and even Utopia would be meaningless without that.
He found his room and it took only a moment to locate the letter where he’d hidden it. He pocketed the letter, closed the door behind him, and retraced his path down the stairs.
He got three-fourths of the way across the lobby when the exterior door opened. Two guards in their black pants, sweaters, and caps walked in. He didn’t recognize them, one a tall Caucasian man with the hint of a smile and the other a powerfully built African-American, but then he was so new that he didn’t know most of the guards.
Deal guessed he had taken too long and they were sent to bring him back, which was fine with him. He’d retrieved what he wanted and was ready to await the New World.
“What’s your name?” the taller man said.
“David Deal. I’m sorry I took so long. Dr. Garrett gave me permission to get something from the Lodge.”
“Well, he wants you back now, and we’re supposed to take you there.”
Deal shrugged. He was already heading back, so this just seemed like overkill.
* * *
Locke had learned from experience that the best way to get through any security was to act liked you belonged there. This Deal just assumed he was one of the guards, so Locke ran with it.
They walked out the lobby door of the Lodge and escorted Deal to the SUV they had appropriated back at the fence. Turner sat in the driver’s seat, and Private Knoll from the assault team sat in the back. Grant got in the passenger seat and Locke got in the back with Deal, who squeezed into the middle. Turner drove toward the door where they’d first seen Deal emerge.
Once the dead guards had been dragged out of the way at the outer fence, Turner had ordered the rest of his team to stay behind with one of the vehicles and shoot anyone else who might come out to investigate. With two SUVs out there, no one would pay any attention to one of them driving back. No motion sensors would be tripped. In fact, they’d probably all been turned off in this area to eliminate false alarms.
If more than four of them drove back in the SUV and they were seen by other guards from a distance, the number of men in the vehicle would have raised questions. Of course, if anyone who knew the guards saw them up close, the jig would be up anyway.
The ground-pene
trating radar confirmed that a large bunker lay below them. This was Oasis. When Locke had seen the original specs, it had called for a Level 4 containment lab like the one at CDC, ostensibly for analyzing any WMDs that had made the bunker necessary. Now Locke realized it was actually for creating the bioweapons.
Turner left a burly sergeant in charge at the fence breach with the order to monitor the radio. If they encountered trouble in the compound or if the main alarm was sounded, the team would begin an all-out assault. Since Locke knew the basic layout of Oasis and it was his idea how to get in, he was going along, and he insisted on Grant being the fourth. Turner had given in, even though he didn’t like leaving the rest of his soldiers behind. But if they were to get in, speed and stealth were their best weapons. Bringing along more men would hinder a quick infiltration.
They had changed into the guards’ clothes. From the four who were killed, they were able to scrounge up three outfits that weren’t too bloody. Three of the kills had been headshots, and two of those caps were destroyed. The other kill had been to the chest. Turner and Knoll went capless, and Turner wore one of the bloodied sweaters, which they washed off as best they could with the canteens. It would stand up to scrutiny from a distance. Grant had to squeeze himself into the largest sweater, which was stretched to the breaking point.
Guided by the corporal operating the UAV, they had driven right up to the building the civilian had entered. Locke thought they might have to search the building, so he and Grant left Turner and Knoll behind in case they missed the civilian coming out. But lo and behold, there he was as soon as Locke pushed through the door.
Locke had had to think fast. When Deal had mentioned Garrett, that seemed like an obvious angle, so Locke took it. As he expected, Deal didn’t question Locke’s authority.
The drive to the hangar took almost no time, but Locke’s watch said they only had a few minutes before the expected check-in from Harding. They’d have to make this quick.
Locke suspected that getting into Oasis wouldn’t be as simple as walking through a door, but he couldn’t question Deal without tipping him off that he wasn’t who he said he was. Locke would have to improvise. He told Grant, Turner, and Knoll to wait in the car. They’d be able to hear him over their headsets. They’d know when to move in.
The light from the arc lamp was strong over the entrance. Locke got out, followed by Deal. He turned as Locke closed the door behind him. Deal stopped, peering past Locke at Turner. Then he leaned in closer, and his eyes went wide.
“My God! What happened to you?”
In the light of the arc lamp, the residual blood on Turner’s sweater was still bright, and his green t-shirt underneath was clearly visible through the bullet hole.
Locke grabbed Deal and pushed him into the hood of the car. He jammed his hand over the man’s mouth.
“Pay attention, and do exactly what I say and I won’t have to shoot you. No sudden movements and no shouting. Nod if you understand.”
Deal nodded quickly. Locke removed his hand, ready to replace it if he thought Deal would yell.
“What do you want?” Deal asked, trembling.
“I want you to take me into Oasis. How do we get in?”
Deal swallowed nervously. “There’s…There’s a guard inside behind bulletproof glass. He opens the door after you do a handprint scan and say the password.”
“What’s the password?”
“It won’t do you any good without the handprint.”
“I’m not going to say it. You are. What’s the password?”
Deal looked like he might not say it for a second. Then he spoke. “Heaven.”
Something about how Deal said it made Locke doubt him.
“You sure? Because if that guard doesn’t open that door, I’m going to shoot you right there and walk out.” Locke was bluffing. He wouldn’t shoot an unarmed non-combatant, but he thought he sounded pretty convincing.
“The door will open,” Deal said, whimpering. “I swear.”
“Good. Now get it together. Just play along like a nice boy, and you’ll be fine.”
Deal nodded again, regaining his composure, and Locke followed him through the door.
He walked into a small antechamber that faced a metal sliding door, and there was the guard sitting behind the bulletproof glass. The guard looked at the two of them while Deal pressed his hand on a biometric pad.
“Who are you?” the guard asked Locke, who ignored the hand scanner.
“Tyler. James Tyler.” Use something close to the truth, and it’s easier to cover a lie. James was his middle name.
“I haven’t seen you before, Tyler.”
“I’m new. Cutter hired me two days ago to replace Howard Olsen.”
“Scan your hand.”
“I can’t. With all that’s going on lately, they haven’t put me in the system yet. But Dr. Garrett wants me to escort Mr. Deal here back down.”
Locke had remembered the name of the man who fell from the Space Needle elevator, Howard Olsen, and assumed he was on the guard staff. It seemed to do the trick. So many names being dropped so quickly must have convinced the guard that Locke was legit.
“Password,” the guard said.
Locke kept his eyes on the guard. Either Deal would say it or he wouldn’t, but Locke wanted to know immediately whether the guard would open the door.
“Heaven.”
The guard nodded. Locke had been focused on his eyes, and for just a split second, the guard’s eyes had opened slightly and the eyebrows had lifted in the middle. The guard covered well, and if Locke hadn’t been looking directly at him at that moment, he would have missed it. But the guard was surprised. It wasn’t the password he was expecting.
Nevertheless, he lazily tapped a button on the panel in front of him and the door slid open. Then his hand fell back to his side, and he waved them through with his other hand. Classic misdirection. Something was about to go down.
So Locke did the same thing. He waved his hand at Deal to walk through ahead of him, drawing attention away from his other hand that reached into the pack hanging at his side. He had to time this right, or he’d be dead the second he walked through that door.
FORTY-NINE
The guard manning the Oasis entrance that night was George Henderson. The job wasn’t his favorite, but he was a professional, so he paid attention, particularly to anything that didn’t fit standard procedure. This guy who called himself Tyler was definitely in that category.
Normally, Henderson would be one of the first to know if a new member of the security team had been hired. But given how fast the last few days had gone, it was conceivable that he wouldn’t have been notified. The guard duty rotated amongst the security team, and this was the first time he’d pulled the duty in a week. When Tyler had mentioned Cutter and Olsen and Garrett, he assumed that the guy was valid.
Until Deal said “Heaven.” That was the warning password. Whoever Tyler was, he wasn’t welcome.
Henderson briefly considered calling Cutter and reporting the incident without opening the access door, but he decided this was a perfect opportunity to take care of the matter himself. His standing orders were to use his judgment in handling these matters, including taking the subject down himself. Which was exactly what he chose to do. He could eliminate this intruder on his own, and with that kind of heroic deed, he’d never be asked to perform desk duty again.
So he pressed the button to open the door and simultaneously dropped his other hand to his sidearm. He’d be able to draw it as the intruder rounded the corner. Henderson would get three shots into Tyler before he knew what hit him.
The intruder waved Deal to the door. Deal came through, and at the same time Henderson heard a clatter on the floor. Instinctively, his eyes dropped from Tyler to the floor. He saw a metal cylinder bounce against the wall and come to rest near his feet.
His peripheral vision registered that Tyler threw himself to the ground behind the glass, but Henderson realized too
late that the cylinder at his feet was a flash grenade. He was looking directly at it when it exploded in his face.
* * *
Locke crouched against the wall, pressed his fingers into his ears, and shut his eyes tightly. He’d pulled the pin on the flash grenade and counted to two before flicking it with his wrist in the direction of the open door.
The grenade went off with a loud thump. The grenade was intended to disable with a bright light and concussive force of the explosion. In most cases, the explosion wasn’t injurious, but stunned its targets by rendering them deaf, blind, and dizzy.
Locke leapt to his feet and dashed through the doorway. Both Deal and the guard were lying on the floor clawing at their eyes. Before the guard could recover, Locke slammed him in the back of his head with the butt of the rifle he’d appropriated from one of the guard’s dead colleagues. The guard dropped to the deck unconscious, but breathing. The smoke lingered as the ventilation system struggled to dissipate it.
Locke took advantage of the smoke cover and smashed the sentry room’s camera, but he knew that it wouldn’t take Cutter’s security team long to notice it wasn’t working. When that happened, they’d first think it was a technical glitch. Then they would call the guard to confirm there wasn’t a security breach. When they got no response, they’d send a guard to check. Locke guessed that they had two minutes at most.
Grant and Turner, who’d heard the blast through the earpiece, rushed through the outer door. Locke hadn’t been able to tell them about his improvisation, so they came through the door with their guns at the ready. When they saw Locke was the only one standing, they lowered their weapons.
“Looks like you’ve got things under control,” Grant said.
“He tried to take me down by himself,” Locke said.
“Big mistake.”
“Where’s Knoll?”
“He’s keeping watch outside.”
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