PLAZA

by Shane M Brown

  Ben dropped his forehead to his hand. Shit, she's banging on about her research. She has no idea. I'll have to be the one to tell her. 'Abby, there's been an accident. Joanne was killed. She died this morning.'

  Ben heard something drop and break in the background. 'Are you OK? Abby, are you still there?'

  The phone was quiet.

  'Abby, are you still there?'

  'Yeah, I'm still here. What happened? How did she die?'

  Ben was sketchy on the details. 'It was some kind of an old trap, Ethan said. It shot her in the neck. She died of blood loss before they could save her.'

  The phone was quiet again. After ten seconds, Ben continued, 'I'm sorry. I heard you two - '

  Abby interrupted him. 'So she wasn't attacked by anything? It wasn't an animal?'

  Ben pressed the phone closer to his ear, thinking the reception must be bad. 'What? An animal? No. Is that what you heard?'

  Ben heard Abby swear under her breath, then she said, 'Not exactly. I just...look, I really need to talk to Ethan, or even Claire. Claire's still on site, right? She'd have to be if someone was hurt.'

  'Tell me what's going on with you,' Ben insisted. 'What's happening with the ecology of the site?'

  Abby hesitated for a second. 'I think some kind of large predatory animal is attacking people. I think it's been killing people.'

  'What kind of an animal?' asked Ben.

  'Something new. Maybe a new species. It's big. Real big. I opened up a scat pellet this morning. A huge one. I found some human remains inside. I collected that pellet only a few clicks away from the Plaza.'

  ‘How are you even sure they're human remains?' Ben asked skeptically, starting to feel a little annoyed.

  ‘Because it was a piece of jaw with a gold filling, Ben! Look...sorry, I'm just...I need to get that message to them. My pollen analysis has come back and Ethan needs to see it. The entire site is, well, it's not what Ethan thinks it is.'

  'OK,' conceded Ben, hearing the seriousness in her voice. 'I'll tell him.'

  'I know it sounds crazy,' said Abby.

  'Leave it with me,' said Ben. 'I'll take care of it.'

  'How?'

  'If there's a way of contacting Ethan, I'll find it. I think I know a way.'

  'Promise me you will, Ben. Even better, have him call me.'

  'I promise. I'll make sure he hears what you said.'

  'OK, thanks,' said Abby. 'I'm going to get off this line in case he's trying to call.'

  'See you, Abby.' Ben ended the call and stared at his phone. He had absolutely no idea how he could fill his promise.

  #

  In the Gallery, surrounded by Gordon's micro-seismology equipment, Spader darted across to the corridor wall.

  'Kill the lights,' he hissed.

  Gordon scuttled between the fluoro lanterns, switching them all off.

  Spader aimed his rifle into the last intersection they’d passed. What's been following us? My God it's dark in here without the lanterns.

  Light appeared. Lights. Two flashlight beams flicked into the chamber where Spader had placed his last invisible navigational marker. Whoever was following them could plainly see Spader's supposedly-invisible trail.

  I've led them right to us.

  Spader flicked the safety off his rifle. The first flashlight-bearer walked boldly into the intersection.

  Carrying the flashlight came a man whose swaggering profile Spader recognized instantly. He sighed with relief.

  Bloody Fontana. What's he doing in here?

  Randerson had the other flashlight. But between them came a man Spader didn't know. Not until they were closer. Once they were all in the same section of corridor, Spader recognized Professor Ethan March.

  Spader flicked on his flashlight and stepped in front of Fontana. 'What the hell is he doing here? What are you thinking?'

  'Christ!' barked Fontana in surprise, jumping away and raising his rifle. 'Don't jump out of the dark like that, Spader! I nearly fucking shot you. Don't do that shit again!'

  'This place is freaking him out,' explained Randerson, flashing his light towards Fontana.

  'Have you two gone insane?' insisted Spader.

  'Nope,' answered Randerson stonily. 'But you're about to. Put your goggles on.'

  'I don't need to see the dye. I'm the one who's been spraying it on.'

  'Just put them on,' insisted Fontana flatly. 'You'll see what we mean. We needed to use the goggles to find you.'

  Spader lifted his goggles and peered around. He instantly spotted what Randerson meant on the archway behind Fontana.

  The entire archway was coded in red dye. The red coding completely surrounded the archway. Spader checked and saw codes marking all the surrounding archways. Confused, he passed the goggles to Gordon.

  'Whose code is that?' asked Gordon. ‘It looks fresh.’

  Spader raised his eyebrow towards Randerson, their expert on all thing underground.

  'It goes all the way back, in every single intersection we've passed,' confirmed Randerson. 'It must be Rourke. It’s navigational, with more than one destination coded for rapid movement. There are also measurements and other mathematical calculations in some of the intersections. Each code looks to identify routes to three different locations. It also details the types of barriers ahead.'

  'What's it all for?' asked Spader.

  'There's a lot of details,’ admitted Randerson. 'Those arrows and symbol on the left side of every archway are definitely navigation. I'd imagine they would be for rapid movement in total darkness. That series of symbols on the right, I think one of them looks like an entrance icon, so I would assume that one leads back to the east entrance. Those other symbols on top represent what barriers to expect at the next intersection, just in case he has to skirt around someone or find another route for some reason. Every intersection gives him a snapshot of all the other intersections around him. It's genius, really. This code here, this box with a circle inside, it looks like it navigates to a specific location or destination. These other symbols down the bottom could mean anything - maybe even the locations of booby traps.'

  'He's mapped everything,' realized Gordon. 'The entire place. He knows this place back to front.'

  Lovely, thought Spader.

  'Rourke was trying to unlock the Gallery before us,' suggested Randerson.

  'Or he already has,' said Spader. 'Turn the lights up, Gordon.'

  'I don't think that's a good idea.' Gordon waved his flashlight towards Ethan.

  'Turn them up,' insisted Spader.

  As Gordon brightened the fluoro lanterns, Spader watched Ethan's eyes roam around his captors. His eyes stopped on Gordon and narrowed slightly. He hadn't moved or spoken since arriving. He stood listening, taking it all in. Spader noticed his bound hands, and in the increasing light that Ethan had taken some pretty serious knocks. He'd been bleeding from the head.

  'Did you guys do this to him?' asked Spader.

  Gordon started packing up his micro-seismology equipment.

  Fontana poked Ethan's shoulder. 'Tell him what you told us.'

  Ethan related his ordeal of the last few hours. Fontana interjected comments, talking over Ethan repeatedly. Spader watched Ethan closely. His mouth seemed to be working automatically. His eyes kept returning to Gordon. Gordon was acting strangely too. He was ignoring, or pretending to ignore, Ethan’s story. This was very strange considering the code they had just uncovered. The code proved Gordon had some very real competition in the form of Ambrose Rourke.

  'And now my hands are numb,' finished Ethan.

  'Cut his hands free,' ordered Spader.

  Fontana shook his head. 'He's not as docile as he looks. He took Rourke out. We should keep him tied up.'

  Randerson ignored Fontana. He deftly cut Ethan's bonds with a serrated pocketknife.

  Spader asked Ethan, 'You think you killed Rourke?'

  Ethan rubbed the circulation back into his hands. 'Maybe. Who are you people?'

  Ra
nderson rolled his eyes. Fontana bristled, but Spader spoke first.

  'That's not an easy question to answer, but I can promise you that we don't want to hurt you.'

  'Really,' spat Ethan. 'So why did your pet gorilla here almost pop out my eyeball with his boot knife?'

  Ethan glanced at Fontana. 'He shouldn't have done that. He won’t do -'

  Spader stopped. Ethan wasn't listening. Again he was staring at Gordon.

  'I know you,' Ethan said boldly, cutting off all talk. The comment was clearly directed at Gordon.

  With his back to the group, Gordon stopped packing his equipment. He turned and tried to stare Ethan down. 'Keep your mouth shut. You don't know me.'

  'Then how did you know he was talking to you,' reasoned Spader, watching Gordon's reaction closely. 'You had your back to us.'

  Spader had never seen Gordon try to intimidate anyone. Something very strange was unfolding, and right at the worst possible time. He needed to regain control.

  'You two.' Spader pointed to Randerson and Fontana. 'Get out there and secure the plane. You shouldn't have left Merc and Dale out there alone. Go back exactly the way you came in, just in case there are traps.'

  'Spader, you're not listening to me,' cut in Fontana sharply. 'The tin-badges wandering around out there have rocket launchers!'

  'You've got a rocket launcher too,' replied Spader. 'Are those rent-a-cops too much for you?'

  'I don't like this,' said Fontana, not rising to Spader's bait. 'This is going pear-shaped.'

  Spader looked to Randerson. He'd matched Randerson with Fontana for exactly this type of situation. 'What do you think?'

  Randerson chose his words carefully. 'There's definitely something going down. We're outnumbered, but not outclassed. I think that whatever is in here is worth taking the risk for.'

  Spader looked at Gordon, who nodded his agreement. Spader had one rule when it came to making decisions on an operation. You supported an idea or you didn't. He tolerated no fence-sitting. Every member knew that.

  'I agree,' said Spader. 'I want to be airborne in thirty minutes. Can you hold it together out there if you hook up with Merc and Dale?'

  Fontana seemed happier about that. 'Yes. But don't piss around in here.'

  'Then do it.'

  Fontana hit Randerson on the shoulder. He glanced between Gordon and Ethan. 'We'll leave you ladies with it then. Enjoy the reunion.'

  'Fuck off, Fontana,' spat Gordon. 'Go and do your frigging job. I told you I don't know him.'

  Speaking over the group again, Ethan said, 'You're Gordon Merrit. You live at 48 Sandgate Heights. You were born in 1958 and your mother’s name was Agatha. And I'm beginning to see why you haven't been answering my letters.'

  'Agatha. Ha!' called Fontana from down the corridor, not yet out of earshot. 'He's got you there, Gordon!'

  Spader could see Ethan was telling the truth. One look at Gordon's face was enough.

  He said to Gordon. 'You lied to me.'

  'I didn't lie. I don't know him.'

  'Well, he seems to think otherwise. And I don't think he's lying.'

  Gordon started to answer, stopped, and then said, 'I have never lied to you about anything. You should know that by now.'

  Spader did. He trusted Gordon, but this didn't make sense. 'Then start talking, and don't stop until I understand how this man knows you better than I do.'

  Chapter 10

  The beeping sound drew Rourke from his stupor.

  Cold stone chilled his back. Wincing, he raised his head to peer around. A powerful headache spiked through his left temple.

  Where am I? What happened?

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Rourke remembered. He was lying at the bottom of the east bunker's stairs. He spotted the shadowy shapes of the two tripods where Joanne had died.

  Ethan pushed me down the stairs. It must have knocked me out cold. How long have I been out?

  Rourke illuminated his watch. Less than twenty minutes.

  Only pure luck spared Rourke a broken neck. That didn't mean he wasn't hurt elsewhere. He raised himself slowly into a sitting position. So far, so good. He stood carefully, testing each limb gingerly for injuries before committing his full weight. Everything seemed intact. He remembered hitting his head on the wall during his fall. That explained the headache.

  The beeping caught Rourke's attention again.

  The small weather-proof case vibrated in time to the beeps coming from his belt. Snapping open the case, he withdrew the small device. At first glance, it resembled a handheld GPS, but it did a lot more than that. The device alerted Rourke when anyone entered the Gallery. Even Kline didn't know about Rourke's hidden sensors. The trick was to piggyback the sensors onto legitimate hardware, such as lights and power cables. Rourke had hidden the sensors - infrared microchip scanners - inside the first two mushroom lights. The scanners identified the type of electronic equipment carried into the Gallery. Cell phones, tablets, cameras - the unique electromagnetic signatures were all scanned and sent immediately to Rourke.

  He always knew what was inside his Gallery.

  But not this time. Rourke frowned over the tiny screen. The data looked unfamiliar. The electronic signatures were brand new. Someone carrying new equipment had entered the Gallery in the last twenty minutes. Lots of equipment, in fact. Some of the items Rourke's scanner couldn't even identify.

  Only one explanation presented itself.

  The incursion force Kline was supposed to stop had entered the Gallery. Rourke knew what they were after. But how did they know? Had Rourke been sloppy? Had Kline betrayed him? He didn't think so, but no one else knew why Rourke spent so much time in the Gallery.

  Rourke found his rifle lying halfway up the stairs.

  Reaching the top, stepping cautiously into the light, he thought about his work in the Gallery. I'll need at least half a dozen men to finish the job.

  No one knew the Gallery like Rourke. It felt like his second home. The incursion force might have gotten in, but they would never leave alive. Rourke would make the Gallery their tomb.

  #

  Randerson led Fontana back towards the Gallery’s exit.

  When it came to underground navigation, he trusted his instincts implicitly.

  He'd done so all his life. In the last five years, he'd spent more nights wrapped in his sleeping bag in cold cement tunnels than in his own bed. In fact, it was underground on one such expedition he'd first met Spader. He'd thought the meeting accidental. He’d never forget that day.

  Checking over his shoulder, Randerson wished he was with Spader now. Instead of Fontana. For such a big man, Fontana moved with unsettling silence. Once again, Randerson realized he knew nothing about Fontana. All he’d heard was that Spader accidentally recruited Fontana. How that arrangement unfolded was a topic Randerson and Dale speculated on at length. Gordon knew all the details, but he’d only spoken of it once. Once when he was angry with Spader, Gordon blurted out about Fontana’s past. When Dale asked the man himself, Fontana simply replied, 'Who says that it was him who recruited me?'

  Dale and Randerson had bonded instantly by comparing their own recruitment stories. Randerson wondered if his and Fontana's shared any common ground.

  I need to know what kind of person I'm working with.

  'So, is it true then?' asked Randerson.

  'Is what true, Randy? The sky is blue and I love you? Not likely.'

  'Is it true you were a bounty hunter before this?'

  Fontana shone his flashlight in Randerson's face. 'Who's been telling you stories, Randy? Gordon? Gordon needs to get his facts straight before he starts Chinese whispers.'

  Randerson insisted. 'Yes or no?'

  'Let's just say I've spent time in human resource management.'

  'Who were you after? Who were you hunting before this?'

  'You wouldn't believe me.'

  'Try me.'

  Fontana shrugged. 'It's not really a secret. I was hunting Spader.'

&n
bsp; Now Randerson shone his flashlight back in Fontana's face to see if the man was joking. 'You were hunting Spader? Our Spader?'

  'Yep. The big man himself.'

  'Well, lucky you didn't catch him.’

  'Hey, I caught him alright. How do you think I ended up here?'

  'I thought you were supposed to kill the people you catch.'

  'No, they wanted him alive. Hey, that's the wrong way.' Fontana paused in the intersection behind Randerson. 'Spader's arrow points this way. Where are you going?'

  Randerson waved for Fontana to follow. 'This way's quicker. Rourke's code points this way to the exit.'

  'How do you know?'

  'I'm starting to get the hang of his codes.'

  Fontana stood his ground. 'Spader said to follow the same path back. There could be traps.'

  Randerson couldn't resist the urge to explore. It defined him, and trying to fight it was impossible. So long as he wasn't hurting anyone, or putting their operation in jeopardy, Randerson felt OK bending the rules. After all, it was the reason Spader recruited him in the first place.

  'Suite yourself,' shrugged Randerson. 'I'll meet you at the exit.'

  'Wait. Wait a second. You sure your way is quicker?' Fontana peered down Randerson's corridor.

  'Yeah, pretty sure. We can always backtrack if it's not.'

  Fontana rolled his eyes and conceded the route. 'OK then, Randy, let's take your little detour. You'd probably get lost without me.'

  They didn't need to backtrack. Randerson had cracked Rourke's navigation codes. Six more intersections led them straight into a bright rectangle of exit sunshine. When they reached the light, Randerson felt a small glow of satisfaction that the exit was where he’d expected.

  'That was quicker than Gordon's route,' admitted Fontana, squinting against the light. 'We should have marked it with code for the others.'

  Randerson peered through the exit, letting his eyes adjust slowly. 'I used both sets of codes to find a quicker way out. If we tell Spader, he'll know we didn't follow his instructions. Let's keep it our little secret.'

  Both men scanned the sun-washed ruins visible up on the top tier.