The Sector

by Kari Nichols

  It took another twenty minutes before they were close enough to make out what the noise was coming from. A pump was pulling water from the sea and running it through a filtration system to desalinize it. A large system, if it worked non-stop it would provide enough water for close to 2000 people.

  Surfacing, he surveyed the area before motioning to Hancock and the rest of the team. Removing their rebreathers, they slipped from the water and attached their mikes. Hauling the skids up onto the ledge, they tucked them out of direct view of the doorway.

  “Testing,” Tank whispered.

  “I read you,” Hancock responded.

  “I read you, too,” Tate whispered over her mike. “This place must be Wi-Fi’d up the wazoo. Where are you?”

  “We just came up at a desalination plant. We’re 50km north of the Strait. Where are you?”

  “We stole a couple of Jeeps and made our way into the heart of the island. We’re also 50km north of the Strait. Druid’s team went down a tunnel that headed off to the west.”

  Tank edged over to the entrance to their chamber and took a quick look around. Outside the entrance was a long hallway that branched off fifty feet further on. “We’re leaving the desalination plant now.” Pulling his M4 from his dry sac, he switched it to single shot and entered the hallway.

  ***

  “We need to do this,” Vlad announced.

  Nicolai looked up from the papers on his desk. His crew bustled around him with cool efficiency. They were all very highly trained and could operate this boat without him, though he didn’t ever intend to prove that.

  “What has happened, Vlad?”

  “My father called Blackburn and demanded an update. Blackburn told him he had the notes and codes and that he was already on his way. He’d called from LAX while he was waiting for his team to arrive.”

  Nicolai absorbed the information. It came sooner than he’d thought it would. They would use the submarine to get the prisoners off the island, but now they would also have to use it as a temporary lodging. He had known the possibility could arise and he had taken precautions.

  A holding pen had been created, similar to the one they had used on the previous submarine. His crew had been briefed on their duties. They were unaware of Nicolai’s personal plans and how they diverged from Sergei Godin’s plans. His crew would follow his orders, to the letter.

  “We need to get the prisoners onto the submarine,” he decided.

  “My father has given them over to Dr. Ho.”

  “Then we must move.” Nicolai rose, signaling his second in command. “I’m going topside. Ready us for departure. We will be underway in two hours.”

  ***

  Tate drove one Jeep, with Gibson, Emily and Jimmy as passengers. Braddock, Worthington and Fargo were in another Jeep behind hers. A tunnel to the north of the parking lot led straight up the heart of the island. There were no signs pointing the way, but the tunnel was lighted. Druid had flipped a coin and entered a tunnel to the west of the parking lot. It was unlit and pitted with potholes.

  Traveling at a moderate 60km/h, they’d driven close to an hour before they started to see signs of life. Slowing to a more circumspect 20km/h, Tate doused the lights and relied on the tunnel’s lights to guide her. Another five kilometers ahead, the tunnel started to widen until it opened up into a massive cavern three times larger than the one at the Strait.

  Pulling over to the side of the tunnel and tucking up behind three already parked Jeeps, they exited and made their way to the cavern entrance. The cavern was large enough to store an aircraft carrier in dry-dock and still have room to drive vehicles around in. It wasn’t a ship’s dry-dock though, it was a warehouse. On the west side of the warehouse, it was filled to the ceiling with crates and boxes of various sizes. Men raced around in forklifts carrying crates from one pile to another. A service station with four brand new gasoline pumps was positioned at the midway point, one forklift receiving a tune-up inside one of the three service bays.

  A wide doorway at the north end of the cavern led off into the distance, the road similar to the one Tate’s crew had just arrived on. The east side of the cavern stored a great many barrels of gasoline. A second gas station sat just south of the midway point, its lights dimmed and the service bays unmanned.

  As she watched, a large transport truck rolled down the far road, its lights bright against the gloom. The driver entered the cavern and pulled over to the side while he waited for someone to direct him further. Behind him, a line of trucks waited for similar instructions. Each truck was loaded down with crates similar to those already stacked inside the cavern warehouse. The crates were coming into the warehouse, not leaving it.

  The first truck was directed forward by one of the ground staff. He gestured until the truck was more or less in line with the forklift path and then motioned for the driver to stop. The driver applied his brakes, but allowed his engine to idle. The forklifts came forward and in a matter of a few minutes they’d emptied the truck. The ground crew then directed the truck into a wide semicircle aimed at the entrance to the far tunnel and left the driver to navigate his way back. As the empty truck slipped into the tunnel, another loaded truck entered the warehouse.

  “We need to determine what’s inside those crates,” Tate decided. “And we need to know where they’re coming from.”

  Braddock indicated that his team would follow the trucks to their origin, leaving Tate’s team to examine the crates. He decided that the easiest way to get to the far end of that tunnel was to ride on an empty truck. A flatbed, it provided no cover for anyone riding on the back, which meant they’d have to get beneath it. The best time to do that would be during its turn back toward the tunnel entrance, after unloading had completed. The truck would be at its slowest speed at that time, which posed the least amount of danger when running between the tires.

  Spread out behind a number of smaller vehicles parked along the south wall of the warehouse, Tate, Gibson, Jimmy and Emily provided cover, should Braddock’s team be spotted. The east wall was uncovered for the first six hundred feet northward. Braddock and his team formed a tight pack, moving swiftly toward their objective.

  Just as they neared the gas station, a door opened along the east wall and a man stepped out. He saw the group heading for the gas station. He took in their assorted weaponry and opened his mouth to shout a warning.

  Fargo broke away from the group and swung the barrel of his M4 into the man’s Adam’s apple. Choking, he tried to collect more air into his lungs. Fargo reached up and gave the man’s head a sharp snap, feeling the crunch as vertebrae twisted too far. Tucking an arm around his back, Fargo dragged the dead Russian the rest of the way to the gas station.

  Shoving the body inside the darkened office, they closed the door and continued on toward the far end of the warehouse. Weaving in between the gasoline barrels, staying low and out of sight, Braddock led his team to the very edge just as a truck was making its semicircular turn. The ground crew directing the truck stood on the other side, out of their direct line of sight. The crew on the west side of the warehouse was busy unloading and moving the crates.

  Braddock signaled to his men. Running out from the cover of the barrels, they ducked under the edge of the flatbed. Slipping in between the two sets of double tires at the front of the flatbed deck, they were only visible from behind the truck. Reaching above their heads to the underside of the bed, they gripped the metal frame structure, tucking their feet up off the ground as the semi picked up speed.

  Braddock’s team headed toward the far end of the tunnel. Tate’s team gave up their cover positions. The crates they needed to inspect were all along the west side of the warehouse, which was hopping with activity. Hiding in behind the vehicles along the south wall, they made their way over to the far southwest side of the cavern and surveyed the activity.

  One forklift at the back of the pack had started to move the crates through a smaller doorway along the west wall, leading out of the ware
house. He worked alone, taking a crate from the stacks in the warehouse, driving it through the doorway and then a few minutes later returning to repeat the process. Tate led the way forward once the forklift entered the doorway.

  Sprinting up to the edge of the door, Tate looked inside and then slipped inside the room, the rest of her team right behind her. The room was larger than she’d expected at half the size of the cavern warehouse. The north wall was stacked with crates, each with a small path in between the sections, allowing room for the forklift to get in between them. They took cover amongst these crates while the forklift driver deposited his load to a pile at the far end.

  The piles were sectioned off, some crates stacked near the front entrance, a few smaller piles in the middle of the room and yet more piles near the back. The crates in the middle were the same height and width as the rest, but were longer by two feet. Gibson pulled the scope from his rifle out of his pack and looked at the writing on the longer crates.

  “Dart guns,” he whispered. Looking at the writing on the crates beside him, he saw the Cyrillic word for ‘dart’. Pulling a knife from his pack, he wedged it under the lid of the nearest crate. Twisting the handle sideways, he forced the nails up all along one side of the lid. Waiting until the forklift had left the room, he gave a hard jerk with his arms, pulling the lid off. Inside the crate were smaller boxes filled with empty dart cartridges. The housing allowed the user to add any ampoule they desired, as long as it met the specified size requirements.

  When the forklift entered the room, instead of heading for the far end of the room again, it came straight for them. Scattering behind the first row of crates, they watched as the forklift got closer and closer. When it came around the far side of the first row, they all edged in between the crates. The forklift worked its way down the second row, toward the far end. Tate’s team circled the crates to avoid direct visual contact with the driver.

  The forklift placed its cargo at the end of the second row, on top of an already placed crate. Dropping it with a slight thud, the operator pulled the forks out and made a three-point turn before heading back the way he’d come.

  “Ok people, let’s spread out a bit,” Tate ordered. They needed to check all of the crates and they needed to remain hidden. Jimmy and Emily sprinted the couple of hundred feet down to the middle pile of crates. Jimmy pulled the lid off a crate. Pushing the straw aside, he pulled out a gun.

  “I know that gun,” Tate whispered. She’d last seen it in the warehouse in Seoul. “That’s Bailey’s design.”

  ***

  The door to their cell opened and the prisoners tensed, waiting. Three guards stepped inside and looked around the room. Stepping up to Warp, they placed the pressure syringe at the side of his neck and injected him with a fast-acting drug that incapacitated him in less time than it took to blink, but wore off quickly.

  While he was unconscious, the guards undid the handcuffs holding his arms above his head and let him fall to the ground. Unclasping the cuffs around his ankles, two of the guards hauled Warp up by his armpits and dragged him out of the room. The hallway between the cells and the lab was short.

  Dr. Ho gestured toward a surgical table, the stirrups already open. Warps limbs were placed in each of the stirrups, two for his legs and two for his arms. The straps were tightened and the patient was immobilized.

  Dr. Ho waited the extra few minutes for Warp to wake from the drug. He preferred his patients to know what was happening to them. When Warp started to stir, Dr. Ho approached him.

  “You are the one they call Warp, are you not?” Dr. Ho asked.

  Warp ignored him and forced the last vestiges of the drug to clear his system. He took stock of his surroundings, not familiar with anything around him. When they’d been brought into this new facility, each of them had been drugged so they’d offer no resistance during the transfer process. They’d woken up in the jail.

  The room he was now in was set up like any infirmary, the room lined with bed stations and loaded with monitoring gear. Each bed was curtained off at the sides, with the fronts open. The bed across from him was empty, but he couldn’t see into any of the others.

  The slap across his face did little more than earn Dr. Ho a glare before Warp returned his gaze to his surroundings. On a tray next to his bed was a series of tools, some he recognized, and others he wished he didn’t. The large bore needle filled with liquid concerned him the most, given the rumors flying about the place.

  “Your usefulness to Godin has ended. Your usefulness to me has just begun.” Picking up the needle, Dr. Ho held it aloft, squirting a small amount of liquid out of the tip. Motioning to one of his assistants, he waited while the man rolled up Warp’s sleeve and swabbed his elbow with alcohol.

  “You’ll feel a little pinch, Mr. Warp,” Dr. Ho warned him, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

  ***

  The hallway from the desalination plant stopped at a T-crossing. On the right was a short route with only one door before the path dead-ended at a rock wall. Testing the door, Tank found it open. Swinging it in, he peered around the edge and led the way inside, with Hancock bringing up the rear.

  The door opened into a large area that was broken into various smaller rooms. One, a storage unit, held bed linens, blankets and pillows. Further on, he found the laundry which was in use by two men who were passing the time by playing cards. When the men looked up, Tank pulled the trigger. Walking over to the table to confirm that both were dead, he spotted a key card next to some poker chips and pocketed it, before leaving the laundry.

  Heading back the way they’d come, they continued further down the left path from the desalination plant and stopped where the road forked. Taking the left fork, they entered the living quarters. It was built in the dorm style, with rows and rows of bunk beds stretching to the back wall. The area was nearly empty; one third of the crew slept while the other two thirds worked.

  It appeared as though at least thirty of the beds were currently occupied. He didn’t have anything large enough to fill the entire room, incapacitating every soldier. He also didn’t want to waste his rounds trying to eliminate them. The noise was bound to alert the rest of the complex to their presence.

  Returning to the fork, they took the right and soon found the mess hall. Busy with preparations for the next shift change, the staff didn’t notice the newcomers standing at the door. Tank motioned Hancock back and they returned to the hallway once again. Continuing their northerly direction, they soon found themselves in a much wider hallway.

  Across from them, the hallway continued north, but also visible were doorways off to the east and west. Flipping a mental coin, Tank walked straight ahead. Fifty yards further, a small alcove on the right led to an unmarked door. Stepping up to it, Tank tried the knob, but it was locked.

  Continuing on, the hallway took a slight jog to the left and ended at another door. This one was marked with the words “Laboratory. Authorized personnel only.” written in Cyrillic and English.

  “Tate, we’ve found the lab,” Tank whispered.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Due north, off the desalination plant. We’re going in now.” He stepped up to the door and noticed the lock required a keycard. Pulling the one he’d taken from the men in the laundry, he swiped it through the reader and crossed his fingers. After a few seconds the red light changed to green and a soft click confirmed that the door was now unlocked.

  Tank pushed it open and stepped inside, his gun up. Hancock brought up the rear. They were in a long hallway with two doors visible. The rooms had been blasted out of the rock, providing no visibility from the hallway into the rooms. Stepping up to the first door, Tank swiped the keycard once more and pushed the door open.

  A group of men in white lab coats were huddled around a man peering into a microscope. When the door opened everyone looked up. Several men moved for the phone on the desk. Their guns spit out bullets as Tank and Hancock methodically executed each of the scien
tists. A quick check of the rest of the room confirmed that it was clear. Hancock grabbed a spare keycard from one of the scientists and followed Tank out the door.

  Through the double airlocks and down the hall, they opted for a left turn into what looked like an infirmary. The lock clicked open and Tank pushed his way inside. A man stepped from around a curtained area and Tank shot him twice, both rounds punching large holes in his chest. Cries arose from beyond the curtain. Men scrambled for cover as Tank stepped closer.

  Hancock stood near the door, cutting off all egress from the infirmary. Hancock saw a small man toss a curtain across the entire length of the infirmary as he ducked behind it. He fired and a small cry filtered back over the curtain, but Hancock didn’t know how badly he’d hit the man.

  Tank stepped around the curtain and ignored the man on the bed as he eyed the remaining scientists all cowering on the floor. Without hesitating, he shot them all. Stepping around to the other side of the bed, he saw that the area was clear.

  Then he looked at the bed.

  Chapter 18

  Abandoning his men, Dr. Ho pulled the curtain across the width of the infirmary and ducked underneath it. The bullet pierced the side of his thigh, but he assumed it was a flesh wound. Limping his way to the bed that was second from the end, he flicked a hidden light switch and watched as the wall panel shifted to one side, revealing a short tunnel. Stepping through it, he passed right through the rock wall separating his lab from the infirmary. Pressing the switch again, both the panel in the infirmary and the one in his lab returned to their original positions.

  He spotted the rest of his scientists, their bodies piled around the desk. Carrying on through the room he pressed another fake light switch on the south wall to reveal another hidden tunnel in the rock. This one led him to the hallway that connected with the main laboratory door. He walked to the end of the hallway and stepped into the small alcove. Pressing a panel next to the door, he revealed a hidden swipe terminal. He passed his keycard through the slot and the red light changed to green. He stepped into the room and saw that Godin was there with his son and Mr. Morrison.