by David Meyer
“Inflatable tanks, trucks, and airplanes,” he said, reading from the laptop. “They also built mock-ups of airfields, military camps, and artillery batteries, among other things. Then they covered everything with just enough camouflage to avoid enemy suspicion. Air reconnaissance units would spot the decoys and report them to their supervisors. In many cases, Axis forces would be diverted, waiting for attacks that never came.”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t just visual deception,” he replied. “It looks like they used other tactics as well. For example, spoof radio. The 23rd would create phony traffic nets, leading the enemy to think a real unit was in the area.”
By now, Beverly had walked behind him and was peering over his shoulder at the laptop. “Here’s something interesting,” she said. “They also employed sonic deception. The 3132 Signal Service Company Special recorded audio of infantry and armored units in action. Then they mixed up the audio, recorded it on wire recorders, and played it with amplifiers and speakers. Apparently, the sounds could be heard from fifteen miles away.”
“So, these guys weren’t just artists and engineers,” I said. “They were trained tricksters.”
Beverly whistled low and loud. “Guess where the 3132 Signal Service Company Special got its audio from?”
I knew the answer before she even finished the question. “Fort Knox?”
“Yup. They teamed up with Bell Labs engineers to do it. That must be how Justin met Milt.”
“How come no one figured this out before now?”
Beverly continued reading for a few seconds. “The 23rd wasn’t declassified until 1996. Even now, much of it remains shrouded in secrecy, which explains why these files are so thin. So, it’s possible the initial investigation ran into a wall of red tape.”
“And even if they had figured out the connection to the 23rd, what could they have done about it?” Graham added. “How do you track down a team that specializes in—?”
His laptop buzzed and I lost my train of thought. Frowning, he leaned in close. “Uh, Cy?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s for you.”
I stood up and walked to his chair. Glancing over his shoulder, I saw a message flashing on the laptop screen.
Hello, Cy, it read. Admit it. You missed me. You NEED me.
Beverly gave me a questioning look.
“Malware,” I explained.
Her visage darkened.
I need you like I need a kick to the nuts, I wrote back.
Sounds like a fun game. But first, let’s play something else.
How about a round of Kill Malware?
I prefer, Escape the Riot.
The messages disappeared before my eyes, presumably wiped from existence. Soft shouts penetrated the paper-thin walls of the prefabricated building. The shouts quickly grew, both in number as well as in volume.
“Cy,” the president yelled. “Get over here.”
The three of us exchanged looks. Then I ran across the room, threw the door open, and raced into the hallway. The guards waved me past and I darted into the other conference room. President Walters, Donovan, Ben, and K.J. all stood in front of a window, peering into the distance.
I peered outside. Despite the darkness, it was reasonably light, thanks to the many generators and arrays of freestanding fixtures. A bright glow shone in the distance. It throbbed and pulsed in place, almost as if it were a living, breathing entity.
K. J. glanced at me. “One of my pilots just spotted it,” he said tightly. “I don’t know how it got so close without popping up on our radar.”
Beverly appeared at my side. Gluing her eyes to the window, she stared at the glow. “What is it?”
“A mob, at least a thousand strong. And it’s marching this way.”
CHAPTER 67
Ben watched the tiny glow with a racing heart. The mob was close. Soon, it would flood the area, distracting the soldiers and giving Willow’s team access to the clearing. Hopefully, they were ready to take advantage of the situation.
Silently, he slipped out of the room and found an empty one at the end of the hallway. Glancing outside again, he studied the distant mob. “We’re almost there, Father,” he whispered. “God, I wish you could see this.”
The American economy was now flooded with money, thanks to the secretive transactions undertaken by the PPT. The collapse of the U.S. dollar was inevitable and would certainly bring about the end of the world’s monetary system. A global currency—a currency used by all entities regardless of nationality—would rise from its ashes. It would lead to a global central bank, other supranational institutions, and eventually, global governance. Sort of like how the European Union, if left to its own devices, would eventually evolve into a single entity in every conceivable manner.
Just one thing could save the U.S. economy at this point. Namely, a return to hard currency. And so, Ben had set out to sabotage the gold standard. Thanks to his father’s notes, he’d known the truth about Fort Knox for many months. So, he’d convinced the president to pin the country’s hopes to the depository in very public fashion. And it had worked beyond his wildest dreams. Now, nothing could stop him.
Except the lost gold.
His hand trembled slightly as he dialed his satphone and lifted the device to his ear.
“Hi, Pop.” Willow’s voice, bright and cheery, filled Ben’s ear. Instantly, the trembling stopped.
“Hey yourself,” he replied. “The Army’s in quite a tizzy over here. Rumor has it that a mob is heading our way.”
“Oh, it’s way bigger than a mob. There’s enough Berserkers out there to fill a city.”
“The Army will try to cut them off.”
“They can try, but it won’t work. We outnumber them twenty-to-one.”
“They’ve got guns.”
“And we’ve got the media,” she said. “I tipped off every news entity within one hundred miles and they’re following the whole affair. Just wait until you see the fleet of helicopters.”
“I doubt I’ll be around for that. I’m sure the president’s people are prepping to move us as we speak.”
“You can’t leave yet, Pop.”
Ben frowned. “Why not?”
“Once the riot gets closer, my team will head for the clearing. If Justin’s trucks are still there, they’ve got the tools to excavate and move them. But they need to know where to look first.”
“We’re not even sure they’re in the clearing.”
“They have to be.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Stick close to Cy,” she replied. “If anyone can find those trucks, it’s him.”
CHAPTER 68
“You did this.” Donovan twisted toward me. His eyes swirled with fury and suspicion. “I don’t know how, but it’s got to be you.”
I arched an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”
“Because you tipped off that reporter,” he said. “Don’t bother denying it. You and your team were the only ones who knew about the fake gold.”
“What about Malware?”
“You can’t even prove she exists.”
I sighed, exacerbated. “I explained that already.”
“Yeah, she deleted the texts and then you threw your phone off a building.” He chuckled humorlessly. “That’s real believable. Especially since our techs can’t find even a trace of those messages in your digital history.”
How had Malware known about the fake bars? Did she have someone on the inside? If so, who? What did that person and Malware hope to accomplish? Did they want the gold for themselves? Or were they after something else?
Donovan glared at me. And K.J. and the president started to look at me with fresh eyes, as if they’d finally seen the light. His accusations, although insane, were clearly getting through to them.
“How do you think I tipped off the reporter?” I asked. “I don’t even have a phone.”
“You’re a resourceful guy. There must be a th
ousand ways you could’ve gotten messages to him as well as to your Berserker friends out there.”
“Why would I do that? What could I possibly have to gain?”
“For starters, a crapload of gold. This is some long con game, isn’t it? As soon as you realized the gold was missing, you started plotting to get your hands on it.”
“We wouldn’t even be here without Cy,” Beverly retorted. “He found out about this clearing, not you.”
“We would’ve figured things out sooner or later.” Sneering, Donovan stuck his face in front of mine. “So, what’s the plan, Cy? Use our equipment to locate the gold and then lead us astray?”
I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
K.J. unlatched his sidearm. “He’s making some good points.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “You too?”
“It’s not just them.” President Walters gave me a keen appraisal. “I think it’s time you started telling the truth.”
Beverly and Graham tensed up. I shot them a quick look, warning them to take it easy. There was still time to salvage the situation.
“I already am.” I took a deep breath. “Can we get back to work? That mob will be here soon.”
President Walters studied me for a long moment. “No.”
K.J. whistled. The door flew open and two soldiers entered the room.
“Don’t do this,” Beverly said.
I backed up to the window. The thin partition vibrated gently at my touch. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw dark grass beneath us, partially lit by numerous fixtures.
“Come on.” Donovan grabbed the president’s arm and dragged him to the doorway. “We need to get airborne before that mob arrives.”
The president nodded. Then he stepped through the door and exited the room.
Donovan shot me a look that managed to exude gleeful triumph and nasty disdain at the same time. Then he exited the room as well.
“Secure them,” K.J. said with a dismissive wave in our direction. “Take them to Fort Knox and keep them in custody until further notice.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Beverly said. “You know me. You know my record.”
“Actually, I don’t. You’re one gigantic secret, Ms. Ginger. A secret I don’t want to deal with right now.”
“Any ideas?” Graham whispered as the two soldiers advanced on us.
“How do you feel about testing gravity?”
“Gravity?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t mean …”
I spun around. Grabbing Beverly and him by the arms, I lunged for the window. The thin partition shattered on impact.
The fall was short, seeing as how we were only on the second floor. But our tangled limbs still caused us to land awkwardly. Soldiers came out to help us, but we quickly brushed them aside and sprinted into the maze of vehicles, soldiers, and supplies.
“Get out there.” K.J.’s scream floated out of the building and into my eardrums. “And don’t come back until you’ve found them.”
CHAPTER 69
As we ran, I looked around, searching for a place to hide. In the process, I saw President Walters and Donovan hurrying toward a waiting helicopter. Everywhere else, I noticed frenzied activity. Workers abandoned their jobs and raced toward their vehicles. Senior officers huddled together in small clumps, making plans for the oncoming mob. Junior officers rallied troops and began to organize them.
Beverly raced to the tree line before halting behind an armored vehicle. Spinning around, she kept an eye out for the pursuing soldiers.
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Graham gasped. “I’m never voting for that guy again.”
“Who are you kidding?” I replied as I joined them. “You haven’t voted in decades.”
Beverly glanced inside the armored vehicle. “No keys,” she said. “But it shouldn’t take me long to hotwire her.”
“We’re not leaving,” I replied. “Not until we find that gold.”
Graham’s jaw fell agape. “Those bastards just tried to arrest us. Why would you want to help them?”
“It’s not about them.”
“Then what’s it about?”
Good question.
In 1949, a young Justin Reed had stood in the main clearing, along with his Army buddies and ten gold-filled dump trucks. Smoke had appeared and then he was gone, vanished in the blink of an eye. He was never seen again, but his disappearance had caused a ripple effect that stretched through generations.
My dad, Drew, tore down large parts of historic Manhattan hoping to track down Justin. But my motives were a little more unclear, even to me. It wasn’t like I’d known Justin. He was just a face in a fading picture.
It’s Dad … it’s always been Dad.
And just like that, everything clicked into place. Family was everything. Dad had sacrificed his reputation and even his sanity in order to locate his missing father. And I was willing to risk arrest and possibly my life as well in order to complete his quest.
“I need to find out what happened to Justin,” I said. “For Dad’s sake.”
Beverly pursed her lips. “We don’t even know if the gold is still here.”
“It’s here,” I said. “We just have to find it.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
Another good question.
The Capitalist Curtain papers were still clenched tightly in my fingers. I unrolled them and turned to the Smokescreen diagram. “How’d they operate this?” I wondered.
“Remote control?” Beverly guessed.
“In 1949? And underground as well?” Graham shook his head. “Not likely.”
I studied the diagram closely. “See these lines and shading?”
Graham nodded. “They look like walls.”
“My thought exactly. Justin must’ve tunneled out some kind of underground room and placed his crew inside it. Chances are good they staged the whole incident from there. If we can dig it up, we might be able to figure out how they made the trucks disappear.”
“It’s worth a shot.” Graham frowned. “By the way, we’re going to have company soon.”
I trained my eyes into the distance. The throbbing, pulsing glow had nearly doubled in size since I’d last seen it. “Then I guess we’d better hurry.”
“These clothes won’t cut it.” Beverly glanced at her gray tank top and black yoga pants. “We need disguises.”
“Excuse me.”
I spun toward the new voice. “Ben?”
Ben Marvin stepped out of the shadows. He held a neat pile of camouflage uniforms and several pairs of boots in his hands. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
CHAPTER 70
Newly dressed in a too-small uniform, I hustled through the dense forest to the edge of the main clearing. It was empty. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the other clearing was nearly empty as well. Apparently, the workers were taking refuge elsewhere while the soldiers joined forces to confront the oncoming mob.
We entered the clearing. I lingered at the edge long enough to pick up a loose pistol that had been carelessly left behind on an equipment case.
The wind whistled. The air started to shriek, louder and louder, until I could barely think. I followed the noise to Shrieker Tower. Its near-vertical sides rose before me, eventually melting into the dark sky. It looked daunting, even to me. How did the Caborn-Welborn warriors manage to scale it all those years ago?
The wind died down. The shrieking waned and then disappeared altogether. I stared at the mesa for another few seconds, consumed with thoughts of family. What had Justin thought of the mighty rock structure? Had it played a role in his disappearing act?
I twisted toward the clearing. Stakes were plunged into the ground in various places. Long strips of fluorescent yellow tape connected them to a longer stake positioned close to the mesa’s southwestern edge.
“This looks like the pipe system,” I said. “K.J.’s people must’ve marked it out before the Berserkers were spotted.”
&nbs
p; Beverly nodded. “We need shovels and light.”
“On it.” Graham twisted around and hurried to the edge of the clearing. Moments later, he returned with two shovels and a couple of large flashlights.
Grabbing a flashlight and shovel, I walked to the longer stake. Quickly, I rechecked the diagram. “Okay, the smoke machine should be under here.”
Beverly pulled the stake out of the ground, detached the many strands of tape, and tossed it to the side.
Turning away, I made several adjustments to the pistol. Then I handed the weapon to Ben. “Hold this.”
He blanched at the sight of it. “I’ve never used one before.”
“It’s easy.” I showed him how the safety worked as well as how to aim and fire. “Just keep an eye out while we dig.”
“Do you really expect me to shoot anyone?”
“No. Just keep a lookout.”
Nervously, he took the pistol. Then he turned around and focused his attention on the clearing.
I stabbed my shovel into the earth where the stake had been located. Beverly took the second shovel and attacked the area from the other side.
If this had been a typical excavation, we wouldn’t have even been digging at this point. Instead, we would’ve been utilizing Emma to get an exact fix on all underground features. Only then would we begin to clear the soil one layer at a time, preserving everything along with the surrounding archaeological context.
But this was no typical excavation.
As I dug, I thought more about Dad, about his ill-fated search for Justin. I’d learned so much, but one thing still bothered me … why had he committed suicide? Was he really that depressed about his inability to find answers? Had Justin’s disappearance ultimately driven him insane?
Gradually, a small hole developed at my feet. Then Beverly’s shovel clanged loudly. I knelt down and studied a small, dirt-crusted object. “It’s one of the pipes.” I studied it closely. “It’s pretty thin, about two inches in diameter.”
“What’s inside it?” Graham asked.
“Nothing.” Using my finger, I scratched away some dirt. “The interior is singed and blackened with a thin layer of soot. I think it’s safe to say this was definitely used to deliver smoke to the surface.”
