Savage Bay (15 page)

ABOVE THE
MAIN
DECK
, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

Inch’s head fell to the side, a long wheeze escaping his lungs. His hands fell to his sides.

The Dragon laughed at his victory, ready to push Inch from the mast. It was when the commando grabbed Inch’s battle jacket that he felt cold steel penetrate his abdominal cavity.

“Never heard of playing possum?” Inch said as he removed the knife and drove it into the Dragon’s body again, this time straight into the heart.

The Dragon’s eyes opened wide in horror, a trickle of blood running out of his mouth.

But he wasn’t dead. The Dragon pounded his right fist against Inch’s shoulder.

The one with the broken collarbone.

OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

“Good God!” cried Quiz.

On three different screens, Ops personnel could see a body falling from the mast.

“Who fell?” asked Cruz. “I can’t tell.”

“Somebody get a tighter shot!” Caine barked. “Now!”

“I’ve zoomed in as tight as I can,” said Touchdown.

A single figure hung by one hand from the mast.

“Lights!” ordered Caine. “Surely we must have spots up there in addition to standard running lights and beacons.”

“I’m trying to turn them on, Mrs. Caine,” said Touchdown. “I’m afraid they’ve been damaged as well.”

The onscreen figure struggled higher.

“Titan Six could either be redeemed or doomed depending on who that is,” stated Caine.

“Two Dragons in the engine room,” said DJ.

“Redeemed or doomed,” Caine repeated.

TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY

“Are you armed,” Hawkeye asked Battenford.

“We have some rather old assault weapons. AK-47s. They were probably left here by the Yanks many years ago.”

“Better than nothing,” said Gator.

“Okay,” said Hawkeye. “Can you bring up a schematic of what other hidden rooms and passageways are in this mountain?”

Battenford sat in front of a computer and produced a diagram. “You wouldn’t find this in Manticore. These rooms are known only to select personnel.”

“Holy hell,” said Tank, whistling softly.

“How do we possibly search all of these areas?” asked Pyro.

The schematic showed the hornet’s nest of passageways and chambers hypothesized by Cruz and Touchdown. The passageways and accompanying rooms diverged from the base’s main layout both horizontally and vertically at odd angles.

“Most have been abandoned for decades,” said Battenford.

“Can you display which ones are currently inhabited?” said Hawkeye.

Battenford shook his head. “I’m afraid, gents, that they have neither cameras nor thermal imaging.”

Hawkeye sighed in frustration. “Can you at least give us an educated guess as to which ones we should search?”

“
I
can,” Madison interjected as he pointed to two passageways cutting obliquely into the mountain.

Madison began to type feverishly on another console. Within minutes, he’d brought up Manticore’s surveillance records.

“Before the incursion,” said Madison, pointing to a split-level screen, “there was a great deal of movement in and out of two passageways that cut obliquely into the mountain. That kind of movement is anomalous for those areas. The corridor running up at a thirty-degree angle on this level is near Dominique’s office. The one running down into the mountain is on Level Three, near several labs. That’s not to say we won’t find people, friendly or otherwise, just about anywhere.”

“Very well,” Hawkeye said. “Let’s move out. Nigel, you’re with us. Grab a couple of AK-47s, and give one to Madison. Your colleagues will have to remain here.”

The Team, with Madison and Battenford, retraced their steps into the wider corridor that connected all offices on Level One.

Thirty seconds later, the Team heard a loud explosion. It wouldn’t be the last.

OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

“Touchdown, can you lock reactor controls in the engine room?” asked Caine. “Or activate the ventilation system to vacuum that gas from the air?”

“Negative. There’s a junction box in that chute that can shut down my ability to override. I’m locked out of everything in engineering.”

“It’s all up to Flank and Rogue,” said Quiz.

On their plasma flat-screens, the Triad members in the Ops Center could see only a red hazy cloud of gas.

ENGINE
ROOM
, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

Two Dragons, both wearing gas masks, dropped from the service chute ladder.

Thanks to their BioMEMS systems, Rogue and Flank were regaining consciousness as their cells were purified of the toxic molecules they’d inhaled.

The Dragons were already at the main control panel for the reactor.

“Warning,” said an automated female voice, far too sultry to be issuing life and death statements. “Core breach in one minute.”

The gas was already starting to clear on its own as Flank took aim.

Core breach?  I don’t think so. My horoscope didn’t say I’d die today.

“Warning. Core breach in thirty seconds.”

Flank pulled the trigger of her assault rifle. It jammed.

Then again, I never believed in astrology
.

“Warning. Core breach in twenty seconds.”

Flank inserted a fresh clip into her rifle and once again took aim. The top of the first Dragon’s head was sheered off by Flank’s bullet.

“Warning. Core breach in ten seconds.”

The second Dragon turned from the panel and grabbed a grenade from the front of his armored vest. Pulling the pin, he lobbed it towards the reactor core.

Rogue got to his feet and sprinted across the floor like lightning. Catching the grenade midair in his left hand, he ran to the ladder and started climbing.

“Rogue!” screamed Flank. “No!”

Twenty feet above the engine room, the grenade exploded.

Flank took out the second Dragon with a single shot and raced to the control panel.

“Warning. Core breach in three, two — ”

Flank pushed three red digital squares, turning them to green.

“Core breach averted,” said the automated voice.

TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY

“What the living hell was that?” said Hawkeye.

A second explosion sounded. Shooter and Battenford lost their balance and fell to the floor.

“They’re blowing up parts of the mountain,” Pyro said. “They’re using some heavy duty shit.”

“The Chinese must have found what they came for,” Tank said. “I think they’re trying to close off parts of the facility. Sealing in Triad personnel, instruments, and technology — or what’s left of it.”

“There’s an upside to that,” said Shooter.

Startled, the Team looked at her.

“We’ve got less area to search,” explained Shooter.

“If we don’t get blown up in the process,” said Gator.

“We don’t have time for a debate,” proclaimed Hawkeye. “Take us to Dominique’s office, Doctor.”

Pyro spun around in a blur. A bullet had caught him in the thigh.

ABOVE THE
MAIN
DECK
, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

Inch returned the knife to one of the several pockets over the thigh section of his military fatigues. He then inserted his hand in another pocket and pulled out a small packet of tools. He had made a thirty-second stop in the supply room on Deck Six on his way to the Main Deck moments earlier.

“I was never a Boy Scout,” he muttered under his breath, “but I always come prepared.”

He pulled himself higher, a thin, bright flashlight now clenched between his teeth.

Inch reached two separate bundles of dangling, color-coded electrical wires that had been severed by the commando attack. Their tubular housing had been blown away by a grenade.

“I didn’t watch the Discovery Channel’s series on modern aircraft carriers for nothing,” he said to himself.

Surveying the damage, he realized that the wires had connected a nearby satellite dish to a large digital array to his right. The array obviously converted satellite data to wireless signals broadcast to several areas of the ship, including the Ops Center.

“What we have here,” said Inch with a laugh, “is a giant router that provides high tech wi-fi.”

Inch pushed a black square on the array to shut down its power.

“Don’t want to electrocute myself,” he said.

Inch then proceeded to twist exposed copper threads around their color-coded mates. “Like fixing a broken light socket. Piece of cake.”

He then punched a green square on the digital array, restoring its power.

“Son of a bitch!” he moaned.

His shoulder ached from reaching to the right and then above his head. His knee was also throbbing since he had clamped his legs together around the mast, freeing his hands. “BioMEMS can’t do everything,” he said.

Producing a small socket wrench from his tool pouch, he then removed the housing from several small junction boxes that had been knocked askance. He hit reset buttons, reinserted dislodged silicon chips, and reconnected more severed wires.

“Stop-gap measures at best,” he said. “If they work at all.”

The pain was growing worse. Inch’s hands were clammy. He grew dizzy and wrapped both arms around the mast.

Gonna fall. Oh yeah. Gonna fall.

OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

“That was too damn close,” said Touchdown.

Engineers rushed back to their stations. Debris, dust, and smoke issued from the shattered service chute as
Alamiranta
forces arrived.

Flank hurriedly explained what had transpired.

“The grenade must have taken out thirty square feet of the deck above us,” Flank said in a dry, flat voice. “And Rogue as well.”

“He saved this ship from a massive power failure,” said the chief engineer. “Or worse.”

“We’re dispatching available crew members to help with clean-up,” Caine said. “You did a hell of a job with those two Dragons, Flank.”

“The real credit goes to Rogue, ma’am.”

“That it does,” said Caine.

So very vulnerable
.

***

“That’s obviously Inch up there holding on for dear life,” Touchdown said.

“He’ll never be able to climb down,” said Quiz. “Not in his condition.”

“Quiz,” said Caine, “if you can find an available pilot on board, send up a helicopter. They can lower a harness to retrieve the second hero of the hour. Also dispatch some personnel to Deck Four to find our repair crews. They need to finish what Inch began.”

“I copy,” said Quiz.

Static crackled through one of Touchdown’s peripheral speakers.

“Are you there, Mrs. Caine?” 

It was Hawkeye’s voice.

“I’m here, Mr. Hawke. We lost you for a while. It’s a long story.”

TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY

Shooter returned fire, killing the Dragon that had wounded Pyro in the thigh. The commando had unexpectedly emerged from one of the administrative offices.

“We can see you again,” Touchdown said. “Releasing a few extra endorphins in Pyro to augment his BioMEMS.”

Tank and Gator helped Pyro to his feet.

“We’re headed for Dominique’s office,” said Hawkeye. “And a passageway that cuts diagonally into the mountain.”

“Pinging a signal off your transponder,” Touchdown said. “I now have better resolution of your area.”

“Any more warm bodies up ahead?” asked Hawkeye.

“Affirmative. Company’s waiting in Dominique’s office. One person. Weak vital signs.”

Hawkeye led the way, pausing in front of a door with a bronze plaque announcing her name and title:

DOMINIQUE CAINE

PROJECT DIRECTOR

SAVAGE BAY

The door was slightly ajar.

“I’ll take this one, big brother,” Tank said.

Clutching a Glock with both hands, barrel pointed at the ceiling, Tank gently forced the door open with the toe of his boot. Lowering his arms, he entered the office, Glock pointed straight ahead.

A thirty-something male sat at Dominique’s desk, bound and gagged. He raised his head lethargically, eyes glazed.

“It’s Emilio Gonzales, one of our best technicians,” Madison said.

Madison ran to Gonzales and removed gray duct tape from the technician’s mouth. Shooter cut the rope cinching his hands, which had been tied to the arms of Dominique Caine’s brown leather chair.

“He’s been drugged,” said Madison. “Weak pulse and dilated pupils.”

“Where is Dominique?” Hawkeye asked.

Gonzalez looked up, attempting to focus. His voice was low and hoarse. “Eleven.”

“What’s he talking about?” Hawkeye asked.

“I’m not sure,” Madison replied.

“One, one . . . one, one,” Gonzales said, his head falling forward onto his chest. “Eleven eleven.”

“Somebody fill me in,” Hawkeye said.

Madison stood straight again.

“It’s a number that millions of people in the world have started to see,” the scientist explained. “Do a simple Google search and you’ll discover that the number is being discussed in thousands of Internet forums. People see the number on any number of digital displays — clocks, car dashboards, radios, you name it. It’s not uncommon for the time displayed to be 1:11 or 11:11 after a power outage. The number also appears with anomalous statistical frequency on license plates, sales slips, and just about anywhere you might expect to see numerals. That’s why I said that it was probably not necessarily attributable to magnetism alone. That having been said, every human gives off an electromagnetic signature, so maybe Es Vedra is enhancing the phenomenon.”

“That’s correct,” came the voice of Joshua Amergris. “Many researchers have concluded that the number’s appearance is a classic case of Jung’s belief in acausal events precipitated by the collective human unconscious. Known to most as synchronicity.”

“What’s the significance of the number?” Hawkeye asked with exasperation. “We may be surrounded by hostile forces, and — ”

“Something hard-wired into the human brain is trying to call our attention to this number,” Ambergris interrupted. “Even if only at a subconscious level. Many believe the number to be a symbol of an imminent evolutionary leap for the human species.”

His head still lowered, Gonzales spoke in a garbled whisper. “Boren . . . in . . . eleven . . . eleven . . .”

Gonzalez’s chest heaved. He then exhaled, a long hiss escaping his colorless lips.

It was his last breath.

86
^TH
FLOOR, JIN MAO TOWER, SHANGHAI,
CHINA

The man sat behind his desk, dressed impeccably. He wore a navy blue Armani suit, gold cufflinks, and a pair of thousand-dollar loafers. His yellow tie was knotted perfectly. His room was ultra modern and dimly lit. Glass and chrome were accented with a mahogany desk, a teak library table, and soft leather chairs and couches. Of Chinese birth, he looked much younger than his fifty-four years would indicate. His former mistresses had believed him to be in his thirties.

A young Chinese man wearing a plain black suit entered the wooden double doors that offered admittance to the office.

“The data from Es Vedra has been successfully obtained, Mr. Yang,” said the younger man.

Li Soo Yang stood and walked to the glass window that represented the entire wall that allowed a spectacular view of the modern city of Shanghai. Still an hour before dawn, the lights of the city shone brightly. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Aiko?”

“Alive.”

“Have she left Savage Bay yet?”

“Regrettably, no. She is still encountering resistance.”

Yang turned back toward the interior of the room.

“Let me know when she and her forces are en route.”

“Very well,” said the younger man. He bowed and left.

Yang once again beheld the sparkling city below. He would bring salvation to the city’s population. Indeed, he would bring salvation to the world.