Chameleon (Corrosive Knights Book 3)

by E. R. Torre

  “No place to go but down,” he muttered.

  Michael removed his small backpack and fumbled inside it before producing a black rope and a sturdy but thin j-shaped grappling hook. He thrust the hook onto the edge of the duct until it pierced through the metal and held fast. When he was satisfied the hook wouldn’t slip, Michael tied his rope to it before gently dropping it into the hole.

  Michael then removed a pair of gloves from his backpack and put them on. He slipped head first down the hole.

  As he descended, the air grew colder. This proved very uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as his head-first descent. Michael knew there was no other way to go, as the passage was too tight for him to spin around before going in.

  Michael tried his best to ignore the blood pounding in his head. He passed a branch, then another branch in the duct and, rather than explore each one, he decided to go all the way down first. If he didn’t find anything at the bottom, he would work his way up to these other levels.

  Presently, he reached his destination. He estimated it lay three to four floors down. At that point, the air duct made a sharp horizontal turn. Michael slid forward, bending with the tube and becoming horizontal as well. He allowed time for his stomach to settle before crawling forward.

  At the end of the duct he found a vent outlet. Between the outlet and Michael was a high speed fan. It sucked the air from the room beyond into the duct. Michael peered through the rotating blades and found the room beyond was a very sophisticated laboratory. Several tables filled the floor. Upon them were computers, books, and folders. To the left of the room was a huge metallic object which, although Michael couldn’t be entirely sure, nonetheless looked like an electron microscope.

  Michael pushed forward and to his left to see what he could of the other side of the room. When he did, his mouth dropped.

  Towering over everything else were three large metal and glass tubes. They stood upright against the west wall and looked like oversized caskets. Cold steam rose from what appeared to be several hundred small tubes snaking into and out of the bottom and top of each of the caskets. A blue tinted glass allowed anyone standing before them to see their contents. Unfortunately, from where Michael lay all he could see was a hazy frost.

  What the hell are these Yanks up to?

  Each of the caskets was large enough to hold an adult body. Indeed, that’s what they seemed designed for. The fact that there was an icy buildup on the inner glass further suggested the caskets were cryogenic units of some kind, designed to freeze whatever –whomever– was inside.

  Michael rubbed his chin.

  If this was the case, who were they storing?

  Adolph Hitler.

  Despite the seriousness of his mission and the magnitude of his discovery, he smiled at his own joke.

  I think I saw that film before, Michael thought. Leave it to the Americans to secretly freeze Adolph Hitler after the war. Then again, maybe they’re storing Walt Disney. Maybe both.

  Michael let those frivolous thoughts drift and considered more realistic possibilities. Could the people in the caskets be victims of some highly contagious disease? That didn’t seem likely. The United States was an incredibly large country, and quarantining people anywhere deep within the fifty states was easy enough. There was no need to bring them out here to the middle of the Atlantic. Besides, there were signs posted around the room warning of high voltage and freeze/fire hazards, but none regarding biohazards. Though it wasn’t much to go on, it was Michael’s experience that Americans were obsessed with safety warnings, even in their most secret places. Therefore, no biohazard warning meant no biohazards present. The people in the caskets were likely clean.

  So what were they up to here?

  Michael suppressed an excited smile. Though he had no clear idea –yet– of what the American’s were doing, it appeared his superior’s very high stake gamble in sending him on this mission would pay off.

  He removed a small black digital camera from his backpack and took several pictures of the laboratory. He made sure each picture captured a clear image of the room beyond the duct. So engrossed was he in this that he was surprised when a man in his sixties with white, thinning hair and a white goatee appeared in his view.

  The man stopped directly before one of the caskets and was likely in the room all along, though obviously outside of Michael’s limited view. The man took a pair of thick glasses out of his lab coat’s pocket and placed them over his eyes. He examined the readings on a computer monitor beside one of the caskets and jotted some information on his clipboard.

  You look exactly like the type of person I’d find in a place like this, Michael thought.

  The elderly man went about his business, jotting a few more notes on his clipboard after reading the remaining computer monitor displays beside each of the caskets. He did this quickly, finishing his job in a matter of minutes before turning away from the caskets.

  When he did, Michael frowned.

  On the man’s left side and tied to his waist was a thick black belt and a large black sheath. Inside the sheath was an equally large Bowie knife. Michael had to look twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

  What the hell are you doing with such a blade? Michael though. He shook his head. Perhaps the old man fancies himself Rambo, or maybe Tarzan.

  The man finished taking his notes. He let out a yawn and gazed at his watch. Though his job in this secret room within this secret base was most certainly unique, his just performed gesture was universal: The old man was tired and looking forward to finishing his shift.

  The man picked up a cup from one of the tables. His footsteps receded as he left the room.

  Michael listened for any other sounds. All he heard beyond the whirl of the fan was a low level humming coming from the computers and the machines that fed cold air into the caskets. He carefully looked over the room one more time for security devices. He spotted two cameras screwed to the wall. Both aimed at the caskets. It was hard to tell from where he was if there were any others aimed at the center of the room.

  Michael wondered if he could lower himself into the laboratory and get a closer look at the caskets. His curiosity over who –or what– was inside them became unbearable. But did he dare enter the lab? He was certain that if he left right now and delivered the photographs he had taken to his superiors, they would consider his mission a success. With these photographs, they could figure out what the caskets were and make an educated guess as to what cargo they might contain.

  But they, like he, would wonder exactly what was inside those caskets. They, like he, wouldn’t be happy to go all this way into the American’s base without getting that particular bit of information. But to get it, Michael needed to exit the safety of the air duct. He needed to get inside the room.

  He needed to stand right where the old man stood.

  Michael stewed on that for a few seconds.

  What are you hiding? He thought. It was both a question and a temptation. No risk no reward.

  Michael took a deep breath and decided on a course of action. He disconnected the electrical wires running to the fan before him. The blades slowed and stopped. He then pulled a screwdriver from his backpack and unscrewed the bolts that held the fan in place. He laid the device against the air duct wall and slid to the outlet vent that separated him from the laboratory. It took him only a few seconds to remove it.

  When he was done, he grabbed a black ski mask from his backpack and put it on.

  Michael stuck his head out of the vent’s hole for a quick peek before darting back into his hiding place. In the second or two his head was exposed, he confirmed there was no one else within the laboratory. He also spotted another pair of cameras along with the two focused on the caskets. One was aimed at the side of the caskets while the other was aimed at the door leading into the room.

  The news couldn’t be any better: Michael could exit the air duct and enter the laboratory unseen, provided he kept his body tight
against the side wall.

  Michael took several deep breaths.

  Let’s do this.

  He left his hiding place, pressed his body as tightly against the laboratory wall as he could, and slid down to the floor. Once there, he crouched behind one of the laboratory tables.

  He crawled under that table and approached the caskets, all the time making sure he wasn’t in any of the cameras’ points of view. It was hard to keep his excitement in check. He had a very limited, at best, time to do his work and worried how long the room would remain empty. Still, Michael couldn’t hurry. He needed to move slowly and carefully, lest he expose himself. After what seemed like a lifetime of crawling, he was under the table nearest to the caskets.

  He spotted shadowy forms inside them. The forms appeared human.

  Incredible.

  Michael took more pictures. As amazing as the sight of those forms was, the frost on the glass was too thick to make out any facial features or even the sex of those within.

  Michael finished taking his pictures. He was satisfied with his work. If the pictures taken from the air duct were a success, then those taken from within the laboratory would certainly be considered a rousing success. The Americans were cryogenically storing people in those three caskets. This much was verified. Nonetheless, Michael was not satisfied. His eyes hadn’t strayed from the shadowy forms.

  Who the hell are you?

  Michael bit his upper lip. He was only a few feet away from the answer. Only feet away from solving that mystery. But to do so, he had to get even closer. And to do that, he would expose himself to the security cameras.

  All of them.

  Michael eyed the door leading into the laboratory, then the vent. Thoughts whirled in his mind.

  If he were to risk it all and get the identity of the people in the caskets, would he have enough time to get out? Could he escape the island before it was locked down?

  The Americans didn’t know he was here and they certainly had no idea of how he entered the laboratory. Hell, they didn’t even remove the rat’s corpse. Perhaps after all these years of working here, they had entirely forgotten about the air duct.

  Michael weighed his options.

  He could take the safe route and leave right now and turn in some very valuable information to his bosses. Or, he could expose himself but be rewarded with all the secrets of this base.

  There really wasn’t a choice.

  They don’t pay you the big money to take the easy road, he thought. No risk, no reward.

  It was time to move.

  Michael crept along the far wall until he was directly below the camera monitoring the laboratory’s sole entrance. The British agent needed only a few seconds. If the Americans were complacent enough about their security down here, he would fully use this to his advantage.

  He removed the Heckler and Koch handgun and checked to make sure it was loaded and ready before returning it to the holster.

  Just in case.

  He then carefully placed a chair from behind one of the tables to the spot under and just out of sight of that camera. He climbed on the chair and stood inches from the camera’s lens. From within his backpack he pulled out a small rectangular case and opened it. Arranged in tight order within were several small tools. Michael removed a pair of pliers. He worked on the back of the camera, freeing the metal plate that hid the device’s inner workings. Exposed were several small circuit boards and wires. Michael examined them. Once he found the cable he was looking for, he clamped down on it with his pliers. If he did this right, security would see electronic snow on their monitors.

  Michael released the wire and quickly lowered himself to the floor. Once he released the cable the security monitors would be clear of all static. Michael hid under the table and waited. The seconds ticked by. A minute. Then another.

  No one showed up to check on the camera.

  Good.

  The Americans were too comfortable.

  Michael returned to the chair and climbed onto it. He used his pliers as he did before, but this time tore the wire from its place. Whoever was watching the camera feed once again saw static. But this time the static resulted in the camera going completely dead. Michael hoped the earlier static before the camera’s complete blackout would mistakenly interpreted as a technical problem rather than an emergency. Security would certainly come, but he hoped the previous static would have them walking here instead of running.

  Doesn’t matter, he thought. You’re on the clock.

  Michael jumped down from the chair and ran to the table closest to the door leading into the laboratory. Now that he wasn’t visible to security there, he pushed a heavy table against the door. By barricading the door, he bought himself another few precious seconds. Hopefully, it was all he’d need.

  Michael removed the Heckler and Koch from its holster and aimed the gun at the remaining cameras. He fired once, twice, three times. Each bullet found its target, shattering the other cameras in the room. Security would most certainly know something was wrong, but they now had to contend with his barricade.

  Michael ran to the three caskets and looked in.

  He swore.

  The frost that covered the glass front of each of the caskets was very thick. Even from a few inches away, it was still impossible to see who lay within.

  Michael hurriedly examined each casket’s computer controls, looking desperately for any button or lever that would allow him to open any one of them. He found the proper controls, but they were activated by two separate keys and, based on the computer monitor that lay beside the second keyhole, a password as well.

  “Shit,” Michael swore. There was no way he could get past those security measures in the time he had.

  Did I stick my neck out all this way only to fail?

  Frustration overwhelmed the British agent. His target lay so very close. So very, very close.

  Michael let out a deep breath and made a decision. He was in this way too deep to stop now. He faced the first of the three caskets.

  “The hell with you,” he said.

  He aimed his handgun at the thick glass and fired.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Samantha entered the helicopter after conducting her visual inspection. She was subjected to a rain of thunderous applause from some very impatient passengers.

  “You’re a bunch of smart asses,” she told them as the sarcastic applause died down.

  “We are leaving today, aren’t we?” her co-pilot called out from the cockpit. “At least before midnight?”

  “And you’re the biggest one of them all,” Samantha called out. The smile on her face faded and she addressed her passengers. “All right folks, some basics for those who don’t know. First off, make sure you’re strapped in. Wearing seatbelts is not an option. Secondly, these choppers make a hell of a lot of noise. Grab the headsets on the walls behind you and put them on. They will muffle the engine and allow you to hear any instructions coming from yours truly. That is, if I should bother informing you about anything. The headphones have switches which allow you to talk to each other in something less than a scream, although for the life of me I don’t know what any of you could possibly want to talk about.”

  The passengers grabbed and put on their headsets. Samantha made sure everyone was strapped in before entering the cockpit. As she sat down, Frank shook his head.

  “We aim to please?”

  “Must have missed that particular class,” Samantha said with a wink.

  She put on her seatbelt and headset. Frank did the same while working the controls. The Seahawk’s motor coughed to life. Outside, the helicopter's rotors began a lazy spin which quickly built up to a high speed. The roar of the engine grew loud enough to seep through the headphones. Samantha looked back at her passengers and switched her microphone to the intercom setting.

  “We’re off in just a couple of minutes, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Once we clear the base, your stewardesses will serve our in-flight meal
. On the menu is the new chicken and pasta MRE’s. Rumor is they taste a little like chicken, though that is only a rumor and should be treated as such. Afterwards, sit back and enjoy our in-flight movie. It's a beautiful and tasteful, although some have argued thematically obscure, French film called Clouds Passing by Your Window."

  Frank sighed and clicked on his microphone for cockpit-only chatter.

  “I know you never stop, but I have to know: Do you ever slow down?”

  Samantha chuckled. She switched from the intercom to cockpit and communication mode and said:

  “This is MT-1034. Standing by for clearance, Clarence.”

  Within Bad Penny’s flight control tower were tables and file cabinets loaded with charts and forms. In a corner was the electronic equipment. The building’s walls were thick glass windows. From within, the flight control crew had an outside view in all directions.

  Two technicians currently occupied the room. One of them faced away from Samantha and her helicopter. He was wearing headphones and humming softly to himself. The other was seated before the main computer displays. His attention was on the Seahawk.

  “Holy shit, Samantha,” he said. “Are you guys really ready to go? Over.”

  There was a crackle of static.

  “You awake, Lombardo?” Samantha replied. “I’ll have you know, I'm absolutely surrounded by smart asses today. Over.”

  Lombardo shook his head.

  “When I saw your Hummer in the parking lot, I thought it was a mirage. Tell me Frank, is Samantha there or are we on a conference call?”

  Within the Seahawk, Frank leaned back in his chair and looked his co-pilot over.

  “I’m as surprised as you are, Lombardo. She’s here. In the flesh. Over.”

  “You're telling me she's only, what, a half hour late? Give me some proof you’re actually ready to go.”