The Overseer (68 page)

 

Sarah was the last to jump from the vent to the cement floor, a storage room with boxes piled high. “Toss the masks,” said O’Connell as he knelt at the door and drew his gun. He tried the handle—no luck. Moving away, he nodded for the man with the clay to take care of the lock. A minute later, O’Connell pulled back the door and slowly edged his face out into the blue light. No sooner had he done so than he raised his gun and fired.

The point man quickly darted out into the hall, only to return with a dead woman in his arms. He placed her on one of the crates, drew his gun, and nodded for the others to follow. Five seconds later, O’Connell and the electronics man slipped out, then three more, and finally Toby and Sarah.

She found herself scurrying through an open area, a space perhaps twenty-five feet by thirty, six numbered doors along each wall. The only exit stood in the middle of the far wall, the point man leading them toward it and—according to Toby’s green-wire theory—the operation center. Weaving her way through tables and chairs, Sarah noticed a pool table and television set on opposite ends of a galley kitchen—all the trappings of living quarters for those planning to spend an extended period of time underground.
A bunker
, she thought.
How appropriate.
At the exit, she heard the sound of a snap. Like the others, she stopped. The man at the front was cautiously edging his way around a distant corner, a second snap moments later to indicate all was clear. Once again, they started moving in pairs. Sarah matched Toby stride for stride until another snap, another junction of corridors. She watched as the point man and O’Connell spoke, both of them nodding before O’Connell turned to the team and strapped on a second set of lenses they all carried. The rest did the same, Sarah unsure what he had seen to warrant the change. He then disappeared around the corner, Sarah the last to make the turn.

Instantly, she knew they had made a mistake. The corridor was too long, too narrow, and with no place for them to take cover. Instinct screamed at her to pull Toby back, but before she could turn, men had appeared at either end of the hall, guns drawn. The next few seconds were the longest she had ever known as she waited for the icy lance of bullets to drive into her flesh; instead, a bright flash exploded all around her, her sight momentarily lost, gunfire everywhere, no time to ask why she was still alive. She scrambled to her left, firing behind her wildly, her eyes clearing to reveal the men of Eisenreich scattering in confusion. She watched as they groped for the walls, for one another, for some way out of the darkness; then she understood.

The flash had blinded them.

O’Connell had known, and he had been ready. He had baited them out, and they had come. Within fifteen seconds, the corridor had fallen silent again.

Seven men lay dead, one wounded, none from the team who now pulled the lenses from their eyes. O’Connell moved to the wounded man and hoisted him to his feet, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh of the man’s throat.

“You’re the lucky one, aren’t you?” he whispered. “So I’m going to ask you once, and then not again. You may choose to answer, or you may choose to die.” O’Connell drove his fingers deeper into the skin. “Where are the computers, and how much security?”

The man shook his head once.

Without hesitation, O’Connell aimed the silencer and shot the man in the kneecap, all the while holding on to his throat so as to stifle the scream. Saliva dripped from the man’s mouth, his entire body shaking. “I didn’t say
how
I’d kill you,” added the Irishman, “but now that’s
my
choice, isn’t it?”

“Third corridor … left,” came the choked response, “vault door … ten technicians … unarmed—”

O’Connell swung his gun across the man’s chin and let the body fall to the ground. Two minutes later, the team passed the elevator and stopped ten feet from the steel door that guarded the entrance to the lab.

“I don’t think I trust our friend back there,” said O’Connell, the demolitions expert already at the door. “Not likely they’ll be unarmed. Keep Toby back. And put on the lenses.” He turned to the computer man. “We wouldn’t want to lose you this late in the game, now would we, Toby?”

Half a minute later, the air lock on the door released, leaving a space wide enough for two more of the small cylinders, this pair far more powerful than their predecessors. The sound of voices and running feet spilled from the lab, the movement in stark contrast to the easy posture of the man at the door; he calmly removed two canisters, twisted the tops of each, and tossed them through the ever-expanding gap. Bracing for the explosion, he turned away as a series of blinding flashes erupted beyond the door. Then, dropping to a crouch, he spun through the opening and into the lab, four others from the team quickly behind him. O’Connell followed. Sarah waited until her old friend was through the opening and then slipped past the door, Toby in tow.

The scene from the balcony was unreal, men and women below fumbling along the floor, others against the wall, hands and fingers trying to give direction to their sightless eyes. Still others sat in front of terminals, staring aimlessly into screens they could no longer see. A few guns lay scattered here and there, dropped or lost at the instant of blinding explosion, none a threat to the men who cautiously descended the stairs. Sarah scanned the faces for Xander, the team already tying up its captives, O’Connell pulling explosives from his pack. As she reached the bottom step, a hollow pain rose in her stomach—too easy. And there was still no sign of Xander.

“Welcome.” A voice boomed from an unseen monitor; almost at once, a series of steel slats snapped open from underneath the balcony, revealing a glass-encased booth. Inside, Xander stood at center, his arm in the grasp of a second man, still another man seated to their left, behind a desk. It took Sarah a moment to recognize the face. “Ah, Miss Trent,” continued Lundsdorf, “you are alive. How interesting. One of these others, no doubt, is our mysterious motorcyclist—perhaps the large fellow with the explosives?” Sarah kept her eyes on the glassed-in trio. “No matter,” he added. “As you can see, Dr. Jaspers is here with
me
; together, we have just witnessed a most remarkable moment. Can you guess, Miss Trent?” He paused. “Quite right. The codes—
all
transmitted. You and your friends are naturally free to tie up my staff, but it would appear that you have come a bit too late. The final stage cannot be reversed.”

Sarah looked at Xander. His face showed no emotion, no reaction to Lundsdorf’s words, only a vacant stare. For several seconds, all movement seemed to stop, until Xander turned toward the glass, his gaze fixed on her, his expression unchanged. “Blow it up,” he said, his voice as distant as his eyes. “I’m dead anyway. Just—”

“That would not make any difference,” interrupted Lundsdorf. “What Dr. Jaspers does not realize is that any attempt to do so would only trigger an …
automatic pilot.
… I believe that is what Arthur called it. Something to do with satellites and stored information, that sort of thing. You may, of course, do what you will with your devices, but you should know that even an explosion here in the lab would have little impact. True, our ability to monitor the teams over the next few days would be severely limited, but the overall results would be the same. A little less control for me, but one learns to adapt as one grows older.” He smiled again and looked at Jaspers. “Does that surprise you, Xander?”

Jaspers said nothing; O’Connell turned to his computer man. “Is what he is saying true?”

“I … don’t know,” answered Toby. “I’d have to—” He stopped and looked up at the booth.

“Go right ahead, young man,” said Lundsdorf. “See for yourself.”

Toby turned to the nearest terminal and typed in a few words. “I don’t know. These are substations, secondary terminals. They process information only when they’re hooked into the mainframe. Otherwise, they stay dormant. Right now, they’re off. Until I see the big boy, I can’t be sure.”

“Oh, you can be sure, my young friend,” answered Lundsdorf.

Sarah had kept her focus on Xander throughout the exchange, drawn by the strange detachment in his eyes, a look she had seen only once before—at the motel when he had recalled Feric’s death. Now, however, she sensed something behind the stare, a strength. It seemed to grow, focus his thoughts, until, with a sudden explosion of movement, he lunged across the desk at Lundsdorf.

Immediately, Paolo was on him, a gun pressed deep into his neck. The Italian pulled Xander to his feet and lowered the gun to his ribs.

The surprise in Lundsdorf’s eyes was all too apparent; Xander’s expression, however, remained unmoved. “Put that away, Paolo,” ordered Lundsdorf as he adjusted himself in the chair.

“Why?” asked Xander, his voice quiet. “Why wait? You killed Tieg; you’re going to kill me. Why not be done with it?”

“I
said
, put it away.”

“You even have an audience,” he continued. “Doesn’t that excite your—”

“Enough,” said Lundsdorf, a pronounced anger in his tone.

“Paolo knows I’m right, don’t you, Paolo?”

The Italian looked at Lundsdorf. The old man spoke. “Put it down.”

Paolo hesitated. “He’ll never do what you ask of him.”

“Put it down, Paolo! You do not understand. I will not tolerate another Wolfenbüttel.” Lundsdorf looked at Xander. “Stop this foolishness at once.”

“What do you think, Paolo?” prodded Xander. “
Do
you understand?”

“Let me finish it,” insisted the Italian. “He’s not worth—”

“Has no one
heard
me!” roared Lundsdorf. “You think I do not know what you are doing,
Dr
. Jaspers? You think I cannot see through this little ruse? It is a very dangerous gamble you take.”

Xander stared into the Italian’s eyes. “Do it, Paolo. Save us all the time. Pull the trigger.”

The Italian looked again at Lundsdorf, then at Xander. His jaw tensed; a moment later, the sound of a single shot rang out inside the booth. For several seconds, nothing seemed to move. Then, very slowly, Paolo dropped to his knees, his eyes wide in disbelief. He fell, his head smacking against the floor. “He would have done what you asked,” said Lundsdorf, his voice once again controlled, a small pistol in his hands. “I could not permit that.”

Sarah and the others watched as the bizarre scene played out, Xander now moving to the desk, reaching over and taking the gun from the old man.

“But you knew that,” smiled Lundsdorf, his expression almost childlike. “And now, you will kill me. How well you have managed the situation.”

Xander remained strangely calm, the gun held between them. “No,” he answered, “you’re going to tell me how to stop all of this; somehow, I don’t believe it’s as irreversible as you say.”

“Trust me,” answered Lundsdorf, “there is nothing you can do.”

“Really?” Xander aimed the gun at his own chest. “What happens if I use this on myself?” He paused. “Where would that leave you and your
destiny
?”

The old man’s smile slowly fell from his face. “You would not do that.”

Xander stared into Lundsdorf’s eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Neither moved for nearly half a minute. Then, very slowly, Lundsdorf leaned forward as if to say something. For an instant, Xander relaxed. The old man grabbed at the gun, pulled it to his own chest, and squeezed the trigger. A momentary tremor in his shoulders, and he slumped back in the chair. Lundsdorf stared up at Xander, a weak smile on his face.

“The question, it would appear,” he whispered, “is, What will
you
do?” He coughed once. “The generals or the manuscript? Violence or order? Chaos or permanence?” Blood appeared on his lip. “The owl of Minerva has taken wing. And now, there is no choice. There never was one.” Lundsdorf’s head fell to the side, the smile imprinted on his face.

Xander stared helplessly at the lifeless body, the gun still in his own hands. He spun toward the glass, threw the gun into the corner of the booth, and stared at Sarah. “
Find
me a choice. Get your damn computer expert in here and
find me a choice!
” He pressed a button on the desk and a door opened under the stairs.

Toby was the first through, eager to take a seat in front of one of the keyboards; within seconds, the sound of rapid-fire typing filled the space as O’Connell entered the booth. Xander had moved to the glass wall, his arms folded at his chest, his eyes fixed on the ground. There was nothing he could do now. The typing stopped and he looked up. O’Connell had moved to Toby’s side, both scanning the various screens for any hint of how to disarm the programming. It was then that Xander saw Sarah at the door. Their eyes met; neither said a word. The typing resumed and she moved toward him.

“They told me you were dead,” he said, his hands clenched even tighter at his chest. “I—”

“A few broken ribs. I’ll survive.”

He nodded just as Toby’s frustration took focus.

“
Jesus
, what the hell do they have in here?” He continued to stare at the screens as Xander and Sarah turned to him. “The old guy wasn’t lying. There’s no way to reverse what they’ve sent out. If I try to recall any of these command codes, the system’ll lock me out. The whole thing’ll shut down, and the computers will take over the tracking. I can’t even get inside the compiler to try to reroute it in binary.”