Area 7 ss-2

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by Matthew Reilly


  them against disease for thousands of years."

  The President said, "The Komodo dragons' blood byproducts

  have been reconfigured to match the structure of

  human blood, and as such form the basis of Kevin's immune

  system. We then harvest Kevin's genetically constructed

  blood plasma to produce a serum that can be inserted into

  America's water supply--a serum-hydrate solution--thereby immunizing the general population against the Sinovirus."

  "You spike the water supply?" Schofield said.

  "Oh, it's been done before," Herbie said. "In 1989,

  against botulinum toxin, and in 1990--because of Iraq--

  against anthrax. Although Americans don't know it, they're

  resistant to all the world's major biological weapons."

  "What about the human prisoners?" Book II asked.

  "What are they here for?"

  Herbie looked to the President, who nodded silently.

  The little scientist shrugged. "The human prisoners are

  another story altogether. They're not here to provide any sort

  of blood by-product or serum. Their role is simple. They're

  guinea pigs for the testing of the vaccine."

  "Jesus Christ," Gant breathed when she saw the list of

  prisoner names.

  After Herbie had told them the purpose of the prisoners

  downstairs, he had brought up a list of their names on one of

  the laboratory's computer terminals.

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  There were forty-two of them in total, all multiple lifers

  or death-row candidates who had somehow escaped the

  chair.

  "The worst of the worst," Herbie said, nodding at the

  list of names.

  Schofield had heard of many of them.

  Sylvester McLean--the child-murderer from Atlanta.

  Ronald Noonan--the Houston baker turned clock-tower

  sniper. Lucifer Leary--the serial killer from Phoenix. Seth

  Grimshaw--the notorious leader of the Black League, an

  ultra-violent terrorist organization that believed the U.S.

  government was preparing America for a United Nations

  takeover.

  "Seth Grimshaw?" Gant said, seeing the name. She

  turned to Juliet Janson. "Wasn't he the one who--?"

  "Yes," Janson said, glancing nervously at the President

  over on the far side of the lab. "In early February. Just after

  the inauguration. He's a genuine 18-84."

  Gant said, "Oh, man, do I hope their cages are sturdy."

  "all right. great," schofield said. "which brings us

  back to the here and now. We're shut in here. They want to

  kill the President. And because of the radio transmitter on

  his heart, if he dies, fourteen major cities go up in smoke."

  "And all right in front of the people of America," Janson

  said.

  "Not necessarily," the President said, "because Caesar

  wouldn't know about the LBJ Directive."

  "What's the LBJ Directive?" Schofield asked.

  "It's a feature of the Emergency Broadcast System, but

  known only to the President and the Vice-President. It's essentially

  a safety valve, brought in by Lyndon Johnson in

  1967, to stop the BBS from being used too soon."

  "So what does it do?"

  "It provides for a forty-five-minute delay of any broadcast

  sent over the system, unless a presidential override

  code is entered. In other words, except in the most urgent

  circumstances, it stops a panic broadcast from being sent

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  out, effectively allowing for a forty-five-minute cooling-off

  period.

  "Now, since it's 8:09, Caesar's initial broadcast has got

  out there, but if we were to find the BBS transmission box

  inside this complex, we could stop all his subsequent transmissions."

  Schofield pursed his lips, thinking. "That has to be a

  secondary consideration. Something to do only if we happen

  to be in the right place at the right time."

  He turned to Herbie. "Tell us about this complex."

  Herbie shrugged. "What's there to know? It's a fortress.

  Used to be NORAD headquarters. When it shuts down, it shuts down. The thing is, I don't think anyone ever expected

  it to be used to keep someone locked in"

  "But even a total lockdown must have a release procedure,"

  Schofield said. "Something which opens the doors

  when the crisis is over."

  Herbie nodded. "The time lock."

  "Time lock?"

  "In the event of total lockdown, a timer-controlled security

  system is activated. Every hour on the hour, those people

  still alive inside the base have a five-minute window

  period to enter one of three possible codes."

  "What kind of codes?" Gant asked.

  "Remember," Herbie said, "this facility was intended

  for use in a full-scale U.S.-Soviet nuclear exchange. The

  codes reflect that. As such, there are three possible entry

  codes.

  "The first code simply continues the lockdown. The nuclear

  crisis is still going, so the facility remains locked

  down. The second code assumes the crisis has been resolved.

  It calls an end to the lockdown--armored blast doors

  are retracted and all entrances and exits are reopened."

  "And the third code?" Gant asked.

  "The third code is a halfway measure--it allows for

  messenger escape. It authorizes title opening of individual

  exits and entrances for messengers to leave the facility."

  Schofield was listening to Herbie carefully.

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  "What happens when no code is entered during the

  hourly window period?" he asked.

  "You're fast, Captain. You see, that's the kicker, isn't it?

  If no code is entered, the complex's computer is warned that

  the facility may have been taken by the enemy. It then gives

  you one chance to reenter one of the other codes at the next hourly window period. If no code is entered at that time,

  then the computer assumes that the facility has been taken

  by the enemy, at which point the facility's self-destruct

  mechanism is activated."

  "Self-destruct mechanism?" Brainiac blurted. "What the fuck is that?"

  "A one-hundred-megaton thermonuclear warhead buried

  beneath the complex," Herbie said simply.

  "Oh, Christ ..." Brainiac said.

  Gant said, "Surely they removed that when the Soviet

  Union collapsed."

  "I'm afraid not," Herbie said. "When this base was reconfigured

  as a chemical weapons facility, it was decided

  that the self-destruct device still had value. If there was an

  accident and a virus spread throughout the facility, the

  whole contaminated complex--virus included--could be

  destroyed by a superheated nuclear blast."

  "Okay," Schofield said, "so if we want to leave, we have

  to wait for the hourly window period, find a computer connected

  to the central network, and then enter the correct

  code."

  "That's right," Herbie said.

  "So what are the codes?" Schofield asked.

  Herbie shrugged helplessly. "That I don't know. I can

  initiate a lockdown if there's been an outbreak, but I don't

  have clearance to undo one. Only the Air Force guys
can do

  that--"

  "Uh, excuse me," Juliet Janson said, "but aren't we forgetting

  something?"

  "Like what?" Brainiac said.

  "Like the Football," Janson said. "The President's briefcase.

  The one that's been rigged to stop him from escaping

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  this complex. He has to press his palm against the analyzer

  plate on the Football once every ninety minutes, otherwise

  the plasma bombs in the cities go off."

  "Damn it," Schofield said. He had forgotten all about

  that. He looked at his watch.

  It was 8:12 a.m.

  This had all started at 7:00 a.m. Which meant they had

  to get the President's hand onto the Football by 8:30.

  He looked up at the others. "Where are they keeping the

  Football?"

  "Russell said it would be kept in the main hangar, up on

  ground level," the President said.

  "What do you think?" Gant said to Schofield.

  "I don't think we have much choice. Somehow, we have

  to get his hand onto the Football."

  "But we can't keep doing that forever."

  "No," Schofield said, "we can't. At some point, we'll

  have to come up with a more long-term solution. But until

  then, we deal with the short-term ones."

  Janson said, "It'd be suicide to bring the President out

  into the open upstairs, they'll almost certainly be waiting."

  "That's right," Schofield stood up. "Which is why we

  don't do that. What we do is quite straightforward. We bring

  the Football to him."

  "THE FIRST THING WE HAVE TO DO," SCHOFIELD SAID, rounding

  everyone up, "is take care of those security cameras.

  While they're still operating, we're screwed." He turned to

  Herbie Franklin. "Where's the central junction box in this

  place?"

  "In the Level 1 hangar bay, I think, on the northern

  wall."

  "Okay," Schofield said. "Mother, Brainiac, I want you

  guys to take care of those cameras. Cut the power if you have

  to, I don't care, just shut down the camera system. You got

  me?"

  "(

  "Got it," Mother said.

  "And take Dr. Franklin with you. If he's lying, shoot

  him."

  "Got it," Mother said, eyeing Herbie suspiciously. Herbie

  gulped.

  "What about the rest of us?" Juliet asked.

  Schofield headed toward the short ramp that led to the

  wide aircraft elevator shaft.

  "The rest of us are going upstairs to play some football."

  "--system reboot is complete--"

  "Status?" Caesar Russell asked.

  Ten minutes previously, during Caesar's second BBS

  broadcast, the entire complex had experienced an abrupt

  power shutdown, causing all its interior systems to switch

  off.

  "--Confirm: main power supply has been cut," one of

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  the radio operators said. "We're running on auxiliary power

  now. All systems operational."

  "--We lost that enhanced satellite image of the EEV

  that was coming through. Renewing contact with the satellite

  now--"

  Another operator: "Copy that. Main power supply was

  switched off at the Level 1 junction box at exactly 0800

  hours, by operator 008-72--"

  "8-72?" Caesar frowned, thinking.

  "--Sir, we have no visual feed. All cameras went down

  with the cutting of the main power supply--"

  Caesar's eyes narrowed. "All units, report in."

  "--This is Alpha," Kurt Logan's voice said. "Initiate

  frequency swap. Possibility that enemy has obtained some of

  our radio equipment--"

  "--Frequency swap complete," the senior operator said.

  "Go ahead, Alpha Leader--"

  "--We are in the Level 2 hangar bay. Heading for the

  personnel elevator for rendezvous up in the main hangar.

  Report six dead--"

  "--This is Bravo Leader, we're up in the main hangar,

  covering the Football. All men present and accounted for.

  No casualties--"

  "--This is Charlie Leader. We are moving in tandem

  with Echo through the common worn area on Level 3. We

  have one dead, two wounded from that AWACS shit before.

  Understand targets were last sighted on Level 4. Preparing

  for joint assault through floor-to-ceiling hatches between 3

  and 4. Please advise--"

  "--Charlie, Echo, this is Control. We have lost all visual

  contact on the Level 4 lab area--"

  "Engage at will, Charlie and Echo," Caesar Russell cut

  in sharply. "Keep them moving. They can't run forever."

  "--This is Delta. We are still on 5. No casualties. By

  the time we broke down that door on 5, the targets had already

  gone up the ramp to Level 4. Be advised, there is

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  substantial flooding in the Level 5 confinement area. Awaiting

  instructions--"

  "--Delta, this is Caesar," Russell said coolly, "head

  back down to Level 6. Cover the X-rail exits."

  "--Affirmative, that, sir--"

  Twenty black-clad 7th squadron commandos hurried

  down one of the corridors of the Level 3 living area, their

  boots thundering on the floor--the men of Charlie and Echo

  Units.

  They came to a pressure-sealed manhole in the carpet.

  A code was entered and the circular hatch came free with a

  sharp hiss, revealing a crawl space between the floor of

  Level 3 and the ceiling of Level 4. Another pressure hatch

  lay directly beneath this one--the entry to Level 4.

  One of the commandos lowered himself through the

  manhole.

  "Control, this is Charlie Leader," Python Willis said

  into his headset mike. "We are at the manhole leading to the

  observation lab on Level 4. Preparing to storm the floor from

  above."

  "Do it!" Caesar's voice replied.

  Python nodded to his man in the crawl space.

  The commando released the pressure valve and let the

  hatch drop to the floor ten feet below him. Then he jumped

  down to the ground after it, three others close behind him,

  their P-90's aimed and ready.

  Nothing.

  The lab around them was empty.

  There came a loud mechanical rumbling from within

  the walls.

  The 7th Squadron men whirled around as one.

  It was the sound of the hydraulic aircraft elevator platform.

  The commandos of Charlie and Echo Units hurried

  down the short sloping walkway that led from the observation

  lab to the aircraft elevator shaft.

  They got there just in time to see the underside of the

  area 7 167

  giant elevator platform rising up into the shaft above them,

  heading for the main hangar.

  Python Willis spoke into his helmet mike. "Control, this

  is Charlie Leader. They're going for the Football."

  THE GIGANTIC AIRCRAFT ELEVATOR GROANED LOUDLY AS IT

  lumbered up the wide concrete shaft.

  It moved slowly, carrying the crumpled remains of the

  crashed AWACS plane on its back.

  The plane lay tilted forward, like a wounded bird, its

  nose lower than its destroyed
rear section, its broken wings

  splayed wide. The plane's rotodome--still intact--towered

  high above the whole sorry image.

  The massive elevator rumbled up the greasy concrete

  shaft.

  As it passed the open doorway to the level 1 hangar

  bay, however, three tiny figures quickly leapt off it, hustling

  into the underground hangar.

  It was Mother and Brainiac and, puffing along behind

  them, Herbie Franklin.

  They were heading for the central junction box that

  Franklin had said was located in the Level 1 hangar bay, to

  disable Area 7's camera system.

  The hangar was deserted now, the 7th Squadron men

  long gone. The two stealth bombers and the lone SR-71

  Blackbird still stood silently in the cavernous space, like a

  trio of sleeping sentinels.

  Mother checked her watch as she skirted the left-hand

  wall of the hangar.

  8:20.

  Ten minutes to get the President to the Football.

  As she moved along the concrete wall, watchful for

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  enemy soldiers, she saw a large box-shaped compartment at

  the far end of it. The compartment's ten-foot-tall steel door

  was twisted and bent, partially destroyed.

  "Oh, yeah," she said.

  "What?" Herbie asked from behind her.

  "Our little run-in with the 7th Squadron up here earlier,"

  Mother said. "They got a couple of Stingers off--one hit

  that compartment, the other punctured some water tanks inside

  the wall over by the personnel elevator."

  "Oh," Herbie said.

  "Let's see what's left," Mother said.

  upstairs, the giant elevator platform rose slowly into

  the main hangar.

  The remains of the AWACS plane appeared first, rising

  above the rim of the square-shaped shaft.

  Then the exploded rear section of the fuselage ...

  ... followed by the intact rotodome ...

  ... then the snapped wings ...

  The rest of the battered plane rose slowly into view and

  then, with a loud boom!, the platform came level with the

  hangar floor and stopped.

  There was a long silence.

  The ground-level hangar bore the scars of the battle that

  had taken place there nearly an hour and a half before.

  Marine One--still attached to its towing vehicle--stood

 

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