Extinction (35 page)

“But why?”

“Shit, I don’t know. The goddamn—” His voice broke. Kirsten saw several other survivors standing at the top of the stairs. Most of them were crying, too.

Finally, after a minute or so, Jim let go of her and stepped back. “We need to go,” he said. “Maybe we can find another vehicle once we get out of the city. Can you walk?”

She nodded. “Which way?”

“The flood’s gonna knock down every bridge over the Yangtze from here to the Pacific. The only thing to do is head west. Maybe we can cross the river at Chongqing.”

He took her hand and they headed across the plaza. Beyond the railway station, the tree-covered ridge extended to the outskirts of the city, offering a dry path around the flooded areas. “We’ll be a little safer, I guess,” she said. “The local police will have their hands full.”

“Yeah, we’re safer.” He squeezed her hand. “At least for now.”

SIXTY-ONE

The air duct was much longer than Layla had expected. She’d thought it might extend thirty or forty feet before leading to an outlet vent somewhere on the mountainside, but, instead, it took a roundabout course through the Yunnan Operations Center. Layla felt her way through the pitch-black conduit, running her hands along the duct’s sheet-metal walls while pushing her jacket and pistol in front of her. Every twenty feet or so she felt warm air coming out of a small hole in the sheet metal on the duct’s left side. These holes, she assumed, must be smaller ducts that vented other rooms in the complex and channeled the air to the main duct that she was crawling through.

The sheet metal grew warmer as Layla moved forward. She started to worry about the boys from Lijiang, who were so far ahead of her that she couldn’t hear their scuffling progress. She listened carefully, but all she heard were the distant bursts of gunfire coming from the computer room, way behind her. Wen Hao was still back there, still holding the Modules at bay. Although Layla knew he had two semiautomatic pistols, she had no idea how many bullets were in each gun or how many shots he’d fired so far. Whatever the count, he couldn’t hold out much longer.

Layla was scuttling on her elbows and knees when she banged her head against a sheet-metal panel in front of her. After a few seconds of disorientation, she ran her hands along the walls and realized she’d come to a T-junction. One branch of the duct extended to her right and the other to her left, and they seemed to be exactly the same size. She couldn’t tell which branch the schoolboys had chosen, right or left. She held her breath and listened again, but she couldn’t hear a damn thing. At the same time, she realized with alarm that she hadn’t heard any gunshots for the past half-minute or so. Her heart pounded as she imagined Wen Hao sprawled on the floor beside the server racks, with the blank-faced Modules standing over him. She felt a surge of rage and an almost overwhelming desire to return to the computer room with her pistol blazing. But a moment later she finally did hear another distant exchange of gunfire. Wen was still alive. He might be doomed, but he wasn’t dead yet. And as the echoes of the gunshots faded away she recognized another sound, the familiar high-pitched keening of the schoolboys. It came from the duct branching off to the left.

She scrambled as fast as she could in that direction. Soon she heard the boys’ cries quite clearly. Thank God for their healthy lungs. The ventilation system was louder here, and the warm air blew fiercely through the duct, buffeting Layla from behind. Worse, the metal walls in this branch were hot enough to burn her elbows and knees. But she kept pushing forward, moving toward the crying boys. After a few seconds she saw a glimmer of daylight reflected off the sheet metal. Up ahead, the duct turned to the right, and the light grew stronger as Layla approached the bend. Then she turned the corner and saw the outlet vent, a large bright square covered with a crosshatched grate. Two small figures huddled in front of the vent, both clutching the grate as they stared desperately at the world outside.

Layla called out “Hey!” as she crawled toward the boys. They spun around, terrified, and howled even louder. They kept screaming even after she came close enough for them to recognize her. But somehow Layla knew what to do. Thinking of her father, she yelled, “
Quiet!
” in the firmest, most commanding voice she could manage. And though the boys didn’t understand a word of English, they fell silent. Then Layla said in a gentler tone, “Let me through,” and the boys moved aside so she could examine the grate.

The crosshatched grille was held in place by four nuts and bolts, and under ordinary circumstances it would’ve been impossible to loosen them without a pair of pliers. But whoever installed this vent hadn’t applied any paint to the fittings. Exposed to large quantities of warm, moist air, the grate and its bolts had become mottled with rust. Layla braced herself against the duct’s hot walls and started kicking the vent with all her might. She slammed Wen Hao’s cheap running shoes against the metal grille, over and over again. After a full minute of strenuous effort, the grate gave way.

The schoolboys rushed for the opening, but Layla yelled,
“Stop!”
in her commanding voice and they froze. Then she cautiously peered outside. The vent was on a mountainside, as she’d expected, and the slope was rocky and steep. Directly opposite was another mountainside, less steep and much greener, and at the bottom of the ravine between the mountains was a slender brown river. The morning sun shone on the opposite mountain, but the river was still in shadow, which meant they were on the eastern side of the ravine. Layla looked to the north and south but didn’t see any signs of civilization; the mountain range went on for miles in both directions. But to the north she spied a footpath carved into the slope. It was narrow and studded with rocks and Layla didn’t know how far it went, but right now it was her best option. She needed to get far away from the Operations Center and hike to some village or town where she could hide the children. If she was lucky, she’d find a grandmotherly type who would take pity on the schoolboys and offer them shelter without asking too many questions. Then Layla would figure out a way to alert the world to the existence of Supreme Harmony.

She put on her down jacket and stuffed the pistol in one of the pockets. Then she pointed to the jackets that the boys had cast aside in the duct. “Take them with you,” she ordered. “You might need them later.”

Again, the boys followed her instructions, which were so simple they didn’t need translating. Then Layla grasped their hands and set out for the footpath. The slope was treacherous, covered with small sliding rocks, so she walked slowly and concentrated on keeping the boys steady. For a moment she thought of Wen Hao, who was almost certainly dead by now. The most important thing, he’d told her, was the safety of the children. She gripped their hands a little tighter and took another step.

PART 3

EXTINCTION

SIXTY-TWO

Supreme Harmony observed a conference room in the building called Huairentang—“The Palace Steeped in Compassion.” This was the highest seat of power in the People’s Republic, the equivalent of America’s White House or Russia’s Kremlin. Located in a walled compound just west of Beijing’s Forbidden City, Huairentang was the home of the Politburo Standing Committee, the nine elderly men who’d risen to the top of the Communist Party hierarchy. They sat at a long mahogany table covered with porcelain tea sets. Also attending the meeting was Module 73—formerly Deng Guoming, the minister of State Security—who sat at the foot of the table. He wasn’t a member of the Standing Committee, but he’d been invited to this emergency meeting to discuss the collapse of the Three Gorges Dam.

It was late, well past midnight, more than sixteen hours after the dam gave way. The committee members, usually so crisp and confident in their identical black suits, seemed tense and haggard. Supreme Harmony ordered Module 73 to adopt the same attitude, which was enhanced by the thick bandages wrapped around his head. The Module had told the Standing Committee that he’d had a minor accident while coordinating his ministry’s investigation at the site of the ruptured dam. In reality, the Module had never left Beijing and wore the bandages to conceal the fresh stitches in his shaved scalp. But his fabricated story had evidently impressed the committee members, who kept glancing at his head.

The network directed Module 73 to focus on the general secretary, the most powerful man in the room, who sat at the head of the table. Seventy years old, he had a square, serious face and a full head of thick hair, dyed black. By all accounts, he was a competent statesman with above-average intelligence and a cautious nature, but his term as China’s paramount leader was nearing its end. He was in the process of handing over his leadership positions to the vice president, a sixty-year-old man who wasn’t as intelligent or careful. Because the government was in transition, several other committee members had already switched their allegiances to the vice president, but Supreme Harmony didn’t know the details of the shifting alliances. The inner workings of the Standing Committee weren’t described in any document stored on the government’s servers, so the network had to rely instead on its observations of the committee members and its general knowledge of human behavior. Fortunately, this knowledge had increased exponentially over the past few days.

The meeting started with a report from Zhu Qiang, the committee member who oversaw all of China’s law-enforcement agencies. Because Zhu was Module 73’s superior in the hierarchy, Supreme Harmony paid special attention to the man. In a somber voice he told the committee about the devastation in the Yangtze floodplain, lowering his head as he delivered the bleak reports from the cities of Yichang, Wuhan, and Nanjing.

“And we just received the first bulletins from Shanghai,” Zhu intoned. “Our security forces had time to organize an evacuation before the floodwaters hit the city, but the highways couldn’t handle so much traffic. Many citizens were still on the low-lying roads when the flood struck. Despite the valiant efforts of our Shanghai officials, the number of deaths in that city will also be significant.”

The general secretary shifted in his chair. Supreme Harmony recorded his expression of discomfort. At the moment, the chances of incorporating him into the network were low—the paramount leader was constantly surrounded by aides and bodyguards—but it might become possible at some point.

“What do you mean by ‘significant’?” the general secretary asked. “Do you have any specific estimates for Shanghai?”

Zhu shook his head. “I’m very sorry. Our men have been so busy, they haven’t had time to prepare casualty estimates. But I believe we must brace ourselves for the worst. In Shanghai alone, the flood may have killed as many as a million people.”

Several of the committee members let out murmurs of distress. The vice president, a portly man with fleshy jowls, leaned forward and banged his fist on the table, making the porcelain teacups rattle. He’d spent most of his career in the People’s Liberation Army, and his manners were more boisterous than those of his comrades. “How could this happen?” he shouted. “How could we allow this tragedy to occur?”

Supreme Harmony was surprised. It was unusual for a Chinese leader to make such an outburst in this setting. What’s more, the vice president’s question was a direct affront to the general secretary, who’d been involved in the planning of the Three Gorges Dam earlier in his career. The network expected the other committee members to show their disapproval of this rash remark, but, instead, several of them nodded in agreement. The shock of the catastrophe had obviously altered their behavior.

After several seconds, Zhu Qiang found the courage to speak again. “We’re trying to answer that question, Mr. Vice President. And though we’re still in the earliest stages of our investigation, our agents have already found some crucial evidence. That’s why I invited the minister of State Security to this meeting. I wanted you to hear about this evidence firsthand from Minister Deng, who has just returned from the site of the dam breach. As you can see, he’s put his own safety at risk to pursue the investigation.” Zhu turned to Module 73. “Minister, would you please address the committee?”

Supreme Harmony put an appropriately sober expression on the Module’s face. The network had a challenging task to perform, but it was confident of success.

“Thank you for inviting me,” the Module started. “As most of you know, I’m a man who doesn’t mince words. Once I’m certain that something is true, I’m not afraid to say it. And now I’m certain about what caused the collapse of the Three Gorges Dam. Once you see the evidence, I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion.” The Module paused for dramatic effect. This was something Minister Deng often did, and Supreme Harmony was trying to reproduce his behavior as closely as possible. “The Three Gorges Dam was sabotaged. A group of terrorists infiltrated the dam’s security forces and planted explosives at critical points in the structure.”

The conference room fell silent. No one on the Standing Committee said a word. But Supreme Harmony observed the signs of alarm and confusion. The general secretary furrowed his brow. The vice president gritted his teeth, making his jaw muscles quiver.

Module 73 reached into his briefcase and pulled out a stack of nine computer disks, each held in a transparent jewel case. He rested the stack on the mahogany table and held up one of the disks for everyone to see. “This contains the video taken by the Guoanbu’s surveillance cameras near the dam. The video shows a Yangtze River cruise boat, the
China Explorer
, move from the reservoir toward the dam’s ship lift. As the boat comes to the notch within the dam, the crew members fasten a line to the concrete wall. Then the boat explodes.” The Module paused again. “The video then shows six more explosions in the dam’s control shafts. In less than two seconds, the central part of the dam buckles. Ten seconds later, the whole structure collapses.”

The committee members remained silent, but Supreme Harmony sensed their agitation. The vice president’s eyes darted from left to right, most likely surveying the reactions of his allies. Module 73 distributed the computer disks, passing them around the table. “This video alone is convincing evidence of sabotage,” he continued. “But my agents have collected much more. The Guoanbu’s listening posts have intercepted communications, both inside China and overseas, from individuals who had advance knowledge of the terrorist plot. And we’ve detained several officers in the dam’s security force who aided the terrorists. That’s why I flew to the disaster site this afternoon, to personally supervise the interrogation of these traitors. The videos of their confessions are included on the disks I’ve given you.”