Extinction Machine (35 page)

I took a ragged breath and followed.

Beyond the door was the huge, round base of the lighthouse and there was a wooden stairway winding its way around and up toward the light. The moment kept wanting to whisper symbolic meanings to me. I told it to shut the fuck up.

Junie was already running up the stairs, and I followed.

The stairs vanished through the floor of a wooden platform. Junie disappeared through that. As I came up through the floor, I saw that we were right at the top of the tower, with heavy windows in metal frames on all sides. The view was magnificent, with the October lushness of Elk Neck State Park behind us, the bluffs below, and the lovely bay spread out in front. In any other moment it would have been a breathtaking view. I was feeling less touristy than I might otherwise, however. Junie crossed to a serviceable-looking desk on which were various logbooks, charts, timetables, and a big, old-fashioned white phone.

She picked up the handset and listened. Her eyes lit and she smiled. “There’s a dial tone!”

Junie began punching numbers. I bent close and listened through five excruciating rings before a male voice answered, “Coast Guard, this is Petty Officer First Class Johnson Byrnes. Please identify and state the nature of your emergency.”

I snatched the phone from her hand. “Petty Officer Byrnes, this is Captain Joseph Ledger with the National Security Agency. I am calling from the Turkey Point Lighthouse in Elk Neck State Park, Maryland. We are under attack by multiple hostiles. This is a terrorist attack. This is a matter of national security. Put your commanding officer on the phone right now.”

Byrnes began to react as if my call were a joke, but his training overrode his natural skepticism. He said, “Sir, please hold the line.”

A moment later an older, gruffer voice came on the line, “This is Command Master Chief Petty Officer Robles. Please identify yourself.”

“Command Master Chief, this is Captain Joseph Ledger, currently attached to the National Security Agency and working under an executive order.” I gave him our location. “We are under attack by hostile forces of unknown type or number. We have three KIA and multiple hostiles down. All radio, sat-phone, and cell-phone communication are being jammed. I need you to send all available assistance. I need you to contact my superiors at the following number.” I gave them a special number that would ring on Church’s cell. “I have one female civilian with me and a white shepherd combat dog. We are in the lighthouse and if possible we will remain here until assistance arrives. We are armed.”

I waited for him to say something.

He didn’t.

He couldn’t. The line was dead.

I set the phone down.

Junie asked. “What’s wrong?”

“They cut the phones, too.”

She looked around as if expecting to see Closers leaping out of the shadows.

“Do you think he understood what you were saying?” she asked breathlessly. “Do you think they understood?”

I wanted to lie to her, to tell her that Robles heard and understood it all. But, she was Junie Flynn and you can’t lie to Junie Flynn.

“God…,” she whispered.

I took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face me. “Junie … can you think of any reason why these Closers would want to kill you?”

“W-what?”

“Downstairs … they weren’t after me. They had your picture, they were hunting for you. Why?”

She hesitated, clearly unwilling to tell me. Her pale face flushed red. Was it tension? Embarrassment? Shame?

“Joe,” she said tentatively, “I … may have done something really stupid.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I think I may have gotten us killed.”

Chapter Sixty-one

The Warehouse
Baltimore, Maryland
Sunday, October 20, 10:48 a.m.

Rudy Sanchez perched on the edge of the visitor chair, feeling immensely useless as Mr. Church and the rest of the DMS threw its resources against the current problem—including the loss of communication with Joe Ledger. Rudy’s stomach was turning slowly to a soup of hot acid.

Across the desk from him, Church was making a series of phone calls. To the acting president, to Linden Brierly, to Aunt Sallie, to two members of the Joint Chiefs, to four separate DMS station chiefs, to the Coast Guard and the Maryland State Police. At least half of his efforts were bent toward getting help out to Joe Ledger, but so far there was nothing Rudy could do to help. His advice was not even sought.

In a moment of dismal depression he mused that, as a trauma specialist, he might only be able to help Joe after this whole thing was over. Or, worse yet, to help those who cared about Joe if this situation continued to spin downward. He wished Circe was here. She was one of the world’s top analysts in matters of terrorism and, no matter whatever else this was, this matter was terrifying. Privately Rudy admitted that he simply would not mind having his hand held by the woman he loved.

Then the screen on the wall flashed and Bug reappeared. “Boss,” he said to Church, “we got a problem. Actually—maybe two problems.”

“Of course we do,” Rudy said to himself.

Church took a breath. “Tell me.”

“This is about our expert. It’s about Junie Flynn. I’ve been doing deep background on her, and you know she was adopted, right?”

“Yes.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

Church said nothing.

“I ran her adoption records and they’re passable fakes. They used that old trick of lifting a Social Security number from a real orphan who died a few days after being born. Junie was never in an orphanage. The paperwork was entered into the system by someone who’s pretty good at this stuff. Good enough that it took MindReader to figure it out.”

“Then who is she?” asked Rudy.

“Good question,” said Bug. “Here’s more. She was homeschooled until she went to college.”

“So…?”

“I went into the system to pull any records I could find on her. Medical, vaccination, anything.”

“And?” asked Church.

“There’s nothing.”

“I don’t understand,” said Rudy. “Have her records been removed?”

“No,” said Bug, “if they’d been expunged it would leave a trace in the system and MindReader’s programmed to look for that sort of thing. You can’t hide from MindReader…”

“But…”

“Unless you’re not in the system at all, and Junie Flynn is definitely not in the system. She’s never been in a hospital, at least not under that name or the name on the phony birth certificate. She’s never been to a dentist, she’s never been vaccinated, she’s never been to an ER. Never been to a shrink, as far as I can tell.”

“How thoroughly have you looked?” asked Church.

“I got a couple of guys on this and they’re going all the way down the rabbit hole, but Alice isn’t there.”

Church pursed his lips and said nothing.

Rudy asked, “But what does that mean? Is she … a spy? A mole, or something like that? Is she operating under a false identity?”

“We don’t know,” said Bug. “It’s not Witness Protection or anything like that, and I don’t make her for a deep-cover mole.”

“Doubtful,” agreed Church.

“As far as the system goes,” continued Bug, “prior to entering college she didn’t exist. Most of what we have is really recent stuff, what she put on her Web site and the content of her podcasts.”

“Put people on those podcasts,” said Church. “I want summaries of everything she’s said.”

Bug made a strange face. “Way ahead of you. I have a whole bunch of my guys on that. I started them on the podcasts as soon as Joe headed out to Turkey Point. Most of the stuff is general conspiracy theory material, and a lot of speculation on the Black Book, M3, all of that. But then Joe suggested we listen to last night’s podcast. If the thing with the president wasn’t already taking up so much manpower we’d have gotten to this sooner. But man-oh-man-oh-man.”

“What is it?” asked Rudy, gripping the arms of his chair.

“Last night Junie Flynn announced that she has obtained a complete copy of the Majestic Black Book and that tonight she plans on sending it to every newspaper and university in the world. And to every nonprofit organization, every grassroots organization…”

Rudy gasped. “She … she lied to us.”

Church sat back in his chair. “So it seems.”

“I’m embarrassed to say that,” Rudy said, “except for the obvious deception about her source, I believed that she was being straight with us. I caught none of the eye shifts, body language changes, or facial tics typical of someone who is lying. And considering the pressure of the situation, at least some of those elements should have been there.”

“What do you infer from that?” asked Church.

“That she is either a very practiced liar, or she is—for some reason—unaware that she is lying.”

“No other options occur to you, Doctor?”

“Not immediately.”

Rudy saw a twitch on Church’s mouth that might have been a smile. “Let me know if you have any additional insights to share.”

“If I may,” said Rudy, “Bug—could you go through those podcasts more carefully? If she’s made this bold a move then there may be some precipitating event. She may have hinted at it in some way that will give us a clue as to what she has planned.”

“‘Planned’?” asked Bug. “I told you, she’s going to release the Black Book.”

“There has to be more to it than that. She’s openly challenging M3. Surely she knew that they would respond. If they killed her parents, then she would have to be aware of the threat to herself. Until now she’s only talked about the Black Book. Now she not only claims to have it, but has threatened to release it in a way that will force M3 to move against her, to stop her.”

“I agree,” said Church.

“We need to figure out what game she’s playing.”

Chapter Sixty-two

Turkey Point Lighthouse, Elk Neck State Park
Cecil County, Maryland
Sunday, October 20, 10:52 a.m.

I stared at her.

“What do you mean you got us killed? Junie … what did you do?”

She hugged her arms to her body, but a shiver swept through her, raising goose flesh on her skin. “Joe … when we were on with your boss, Mr. Church, and those other men … I was scared. I…” She shook her head like she was trying to shake off angry bees. “It’s so big! The president, the crop circle … this is the kind of stuff I podcast about and write about, but now it’s here, it’s right here, and I guess I kind of freaked. I flaked out on you. And the thing is … I still don’t know how much I can trust you.”

“Jesus Christ, Junie, I just saved your life from a hit team.”

“I know…”

“What more do you want?”

She stood several feet away from me, near the top of the stairs, tension rippling through her as if she was trying to decide whether to tell me or to make a break for it down those stairs. I tried to get inside her head and see it from her perspective, but maybe she’d lived in the world of conspiracy theories and paranoia too long. Maybe a lack of trust was the only thing she could rely on. And really, who was I to her? Sure, we shared a couple of freaky moments of subliminal communication, but who’s to say that wasn’t brain chemistry misfiring because of all the trauma? Hey, it’s not like I’m not crazy already, so I could have been reading a lot more into my first encounter with Junie than was ever there; and I didn’t have Rudy riding shotgun on my sanity right now.

“Joe … I’ll make a deal with you,” she said at last.

“Can’t wait to hear this, but sure, go ahead, let’s see what’s behind door number one.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’m like this when I’m serious.”

That probably wasn’t as comforting or amusing as intended. She filed it away.

“Here’s the deal … you get us out of here, you get us somewhere totally safe, and I will put the Majestic Black Book into your hands.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

“That’s the deal.”

“You have the book?” I growled. “After all this … you have the damn book?”

“Yes.” There was some hesitation in her voice, but she repeated her answer. “Yes. What’s it going to be, Joe? Do we have a deal?”

I towered over her, glowered at her. I wanted to yell at her, shake her.

What I did, though, was smile.

“Either you are one cool bitch,” I said, “or you’re every bit as crazy as I am.”

Her smile was of a lower wattage. “Do we have a deal?”

I stuck out my hand. “We have a deal.”

We shook on it.

Outside, Ghost suddenly started barking.

Then we heard the helicopters.

“The Coast Guard! Thank God,” she said as we raced to the windows.

There were two of them, coming in low and fast a hundred yards above the blue water. Coast Guard helicopters are red and white, easy to spot against the sky or sea.

These helos were as black as the bottomless well of despair that had opened in my heart.

There was a puff of smoke, small and pale in the distance. It was a slender thing and I knew it for what it was. I’ve seen so many of them, up close and mounted. I’ve seen what they can do. A hundred pounds of metal and wire and chemicals; sixty-four inches long. Sleek and silver in the sunlight, moving at Mach 1.3. Nine hundred and fifty miles per hour. Like an arrow shot by a god of war, the Hellfire missile flew toward us.

“Run!” I screamed as I hooked my arm around her and hurled her toward the stairs.

Above and around us the world seemed to disintegrate into a burning fireball of pure destructive force.

Hellfire without a doubt.

Chapter Sixty-three

The Warehouse
Baltimore, Maryland
Sunday, October 20, 10:55 a.m.

“Give me something to do,” Rudy pleaded. “If I simply sit here and do nothing while all this is happening I’ll go insane.”

“As it happens, Doctor,” said Church, “there is something you can do.”

He handed Rudy a sheet of paper on which was a list of names accompanied by notations about each person’s credentials and contact information. Several of the names were highlighted in yellow.