THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO (39 page)

Jennings had a vehicle waiting for them when they landed. Keene and Boz threw their gear into the back of the Suburban, checked the map, and headed out. Twenty minutes later, they had found the obscure dirt road that led to the old farmhouse.

They parked in the drive and got out of the SUV, weapons drawn. They had no idea what they were walking into, so they approached the house with caution. After a quick check of the property, though, it was clear they were alone.

“Megan said it was under a concrete slab in the backyard,” Keene said, as they finished clearing the house.

He stepped out the back door into the yard. Not much to see except a gravel lot birthed out of the dirt drive that led from the front of the house, a large field that made up the surrounding property, and a small toolshed sitting back from the house, nestled up against the overgrown weeds of the field.

Keene looked around the property. The old toolshed seemed to beckon him closer. He walked over to it and stuck his head inside.

A few old woodworking tools hung from some rusty nails on the wall. A weathered and cracked wooden bench sat propped up against the back. A light switch was positioned just inside the door. When Keene turned it on, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling popped and buzzed then came to life. He spent another five minutes going over the shed without finding anything. He was getting frustrated and was about to walk out when he saw a small button hidden behind some electrical wires. He pushed them aside and placed his thumb on the button. Underneath his feet, he heard the sound of an air lock give way. And then the grinding of concrete against metal.

“Boz! It’s moving.”

Boz stepped inside where Keene was standing over the opening in the ground where the concrete slab had moved, revealing a set of steps. He looked at Boz. They both checked their weapons. Then he pointed for Boz to follow behind as he started down the stairs.

At the bottom, they came to what looked like a steel reinforced door. It had a keypad on it connected to a lever. Keene took one look at it and said, “I’ve had about enough of this junk.”

He walked back up the stairs and went to the SUV and returned with a backpack that he had brought with him on the plane. He unzipped the pack and pulled out three sticks of C-4 plastic explosives. He placed them around the keypad and the handle and pushed the little electrodes into the clay.

“That’s a little bit of overkill, don’t you think?” Boz asked, laughing.

Keene just looked at him. “No, I don’t. If there’s anything on the other side of this door, I want to make sure it’s neutralized when we go in.”

Boz shrugged his shoulders. “I’m good with that.”

Keene stretched out the line from the electrodes back up the stairs. Boz followed. When they were topside, Keene looked at Boz. “Fire in the hole.”

Boz turned his head and covered his ears.

Keene pushed the plunger on the little detonator he held. The ground below them shook as a huge plume of smoke rose up from the stairwell.

They quickly cleared the bunker after they had gone in—though they both knew that if there were anyone on the other side of that blast, they would’ve been incapacitated by the concussion of the blast, if not worse. But after a quick walk-through, they found it was empty.

The bunker was a state-of-the-art facility. It had four rooms, separated by tunnel-like hallways. Each room had its own purpose. One was a bathroom, complete with a shower and bathtub. Another was a large bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a set of twin bunk beds beside it, allowing for up to four people to sleep comfortably. The next room was a kitchen, complete with appliances and a pantry stocked with MREs. Enough to last ten people nearly five years. From there, the bunker led into a surprisingly spacious living area. There was a table set up at one end with an expensive-looking office chair, setting up a sort of office space. Three other, more common chairs surrounded the table. Just a few feet from there, a couch and oversized leather chair sat in the middle of the room, facing a flat-screen LED television.

“Looks like Pemberton was serious about his bugout plan,” Keene said.

“This place must’ve cost a small fortune,” Boz said.

They went through the bunker room by room, trying to find anything that would help them nail Pemberton. They had been over just about every square inch of the place when Boz called out to him from the living area.

“Hey, Jon. I think I found something.”

Keene hurried out from the bedroom area, where he’d been looking. Boz was standing next to the flat-screen looking at a small hole in the wall.

“I think this is a camera.”

Keene stepped over and took a look. Boz was right. A small lens was recessed into the wall inside the built-in entertainment center next to the flat screen. It appeared to be facing the office area of the house. Keene took out his knife and began to dig the camera out from the wood. After a few seconds he had the lens free, but it was attached to a cable that was running behind the wall. Keene looked at Boz and said, “Stand back.” Boz moved back as far as he could go in the space. Keene took his knife and swung hard at the drywall. The whole thing crumpled inward on itself, creating a huge craterlike hole in the wall. Keene used his hands and began tearing the Sheetrock away from the framing.

He traced the camera cable all the way into the kitchen, where he found a hidden DVD recorder in a cupboard next to the pantry. Keene pushed the E
JECT
button on the machine and a disc popped out.

“Hmm. Wonder what’s on this?” Keene said.

Boz took the disc from him and walked back into the living area. “Let’s find out.”

Boz stuck the disc into the player. He found the power button for the television and turned it on.

The disc started to play. Within seconds, the screen showed a view of the office area off to the left. An older man sat in the expensive chair, as four other individuals sat around the table with him. Governor Nolan, Jake Irving, Milton Hayes, and Alexandra Sokolov all sat at the table facing the man. “That’s got to be Pemberton,” Keene said.

Boz agreed.

Keene reached over and turned the volume up on the television. They watched the entire twenty-five-minute meeting. In it, they heard Pemberton lay out his idea for taking the presidency, the military, killing Bob Sykes and President Walker, and eventually, attacking the Chinese.

When the disc was done playing, Keene ejected it and put it in his pocket. “I think we have everything we need.”

They took another ten minutes going over the place to make sure they hadn’t missed anything then made their way topside.

When they were there, Keene told Boz to go get him some more detonation wire from the truck.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

Keene looked back down into the stairwell. “Well, I’ve already blown up the security system. Figured I’d just finish off the place. Besides, Pemberton isn’t going to need it where he’s going.”

Keene spent the next few minutes wiring the entire place. After he was done, he came back up to the top of the stairs. He motioned for Boz to get in the SUV.

Keene pulled the gear lever and drove out into the field. Once they were far enough away, he stopped, got out, and walked around to the passenger’s side. Boz was already out and looking back at the small shed. Keene grabbed Boz by the arm and pulled him down behind the truck. “I might have used more than necessary,” he said. “You’re going to want to duck.” He winked.

Boz nodded and pulled his arms up over his head. “Fire in the hole.”

Keene smiled and then tucked his head and pushed the plunger.

The ground beneath them shook, as a giant rumbling sound echoed under the field. The rumble gave way to an enormous blast of dirt, debris, and fire that shot up into the air in a mushroom cloud where the bunker was.

“That about does it,” Keene said. “Let’s roll.”

Boz stood and followed him back to the truck. “Roger that.”

A
lex didn’t know what had gone wrong. How did she even get here? Where was Farid? And why was she back in this hospital?

She pulled against the restraints but to no avail. She was trapped. And her vision was blurry. Why couldn’t she see? She heard a voice. It was coming from outside the room. It was that doctor again, talking about disconnecting her life support. She had to get loose.

No, wait. This was all wrong. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Somewhere deep inside the recesses of her mind, she rationalized with herself.
This is a dream, Alex. You need to wake up
. She fought against the restraints and closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up. She opened her eyes.

She looked down to see that she had tangled herself up in the sheet. It had wrapped around her wrists, holding her hostage in her dream. She shook it loose and reached for her phone. Eleven thirty. She looked back to the other side. Farid was beginning to wake.

“What time is it?”

“Late,” she said.

Farid had a boyish grin on his face. “That’s what happens when you stay up all night.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the nose. “Yes, but we have work to do. I hadn’t planned on sleeping in this long. Come on. Get up. I’m going to go get in the shower. Why don’t you find us some breakfast. I’m starved.”

Farid pushed the sheet back and got out of bed. “I can do that. What are you in the mood for?”

Alex gave Farid some money from her stash and disappeared into the bathroom. She took a quick shower and then spent thirty minutes changing her appearance. She had learned this skill long ago and was fairly good at it. She had several prosthetic pieces such as noses, ears, chin, and jaw enhancements. She cut her shoulder-length blond hair and dyed it black. Now it was close cropped and parted over to one side. Very business professional.

When she walked out of the bathroom, Farid was sitting at the small table eating a sandwich. His eyes went wide. “Oh my—you don’t even look like yourself.”

“That’s kind of the point, Farid.”

“Yeah, but I mean…I wouldn’t even recognize you if I walked into you on the street.”

“Again…sort of the point.”

“Well, you’ve made your point, then. Bravo!”

“Good. Let’s go. We have to run by a drugstore and an electronics store.”

“For what?”

She reached inside a bag sitting on the bed and pulled out a set of IDs. “Marianne gave me these before my last job. They’re actual Homeland Security badges. They’ll pass any inspection given them. Except for the fact that my picture is on both of them. Since I don’t look like that anymore, I need a new picture. And I doubt anyone is going to believe that you’re”—she flipped one around and looked at it—“Anita Freilly. So I need some superglue and a digital camera.”

“Then what?”

She grabbed the other sandwich Farid had set on the little table. She took a bite, grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and started for the door. “Then we’re going to the Capitol to plant some gear. There’s no way we’d be able to get what we need in there, even with good IDs. But if it’s already there waiting for us…”

Farid finished tying his shoe and grabbed his jacket. “Good. Let’s go.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon buying supplies and working on the IDs. Alex showed him how to cut around the old photo, so it wouldn’t cause anyone to notice. Next she pinned the sheet from the bed against the wall and took his picture. She showed him how to upload that into her laptop. “Even without Internet, these little things can still be useful,” she said, opening the software program loaded on her hard drive.

When she was done, she gave the camera to Farid and told him to take her picture, exactly like she had taken his. It took him a few tries to get it right. But eventually, he got the picture Alex needed. Again, she repeated the process with the computer. Twenty minutes later, she held both IDs up to the light.

“There’s not an overworked security guard on the planet that wouldn’t look at these once and wave us through.”

“Let’s just hope that’s what we find—an overworked security guard.”

Alex looked at him. “Trust me. If there’s one thing I know, it’s American bureaucracy.”

It was getting on into the evening when they arrived at the Capitol. Alex had a small briefcase and a backpack that held the equipment she needed. Getting past the guard wasn’t going to be a problem. Not at this hour. What she worried about was anyone passing through the House chamber while she was stowing the gear. She just didn’t have a logical explanation for why she would be putting a Tech-9, some extra magazines, and a couple of spare smaller handguns under seats throughout the room. That’s where Farid came in. She would use her ID to gain access to the room then station Farid outside the door to stand post. If anyone should approach, he was to make a scene until she could come to him and take care of it.

“Here goes,” she said. “You sure about this?”

Farid nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

They walked to the side door by the steps at the rear of the building, where all the senators, congressmen, and congresswomen entered the building. Just as she figured, an older, overweight man holding a greasy sandwich sat behind the guard desk.