The Siren Project (46 page)

“We’ll wait for dark,” Mitch said as he
gave Gunter the binoculars, after surveying the approaches to the base.

“If Mouse has not disabled the south east
tower, we will be seen,” he said, peering through the binoculars. “The
temperature will drop rapidly once the sun is down. If they have heat sensors .
. .”

“I know. Or motion detectors, or plain old
night vision goggles for any guards walking the fence line, we’re screwed. We’ll
have to ride hard to get to the fence on schedule. The horses will be hot
enough to light up any infra reds by the time we get there. We'll stick to the
gullies, try to keep them out of sight.”

They returned to the horses, and ate the
last of the food they'd brought with them. When the sun finally dipped below
the horizon, leaving the desert to cool as darkness approached, they climbed
back into the saddle. Hugging the cliffs and using the giant rock formations to
mask their movements as best they could, they pushed forward towards the chain
link fence. When the light finally failed, and the sky filled with stars, they
increased their speed to a canter, eating up the distance to the base. Searchlights
from the four corner towers activated, casting four great sweeping beams of
light across the desert, searching for intruders. The south east tower
searchlight lit up the cliffs ahead of them about once every four minutes.

Mitch reigned his horse to a halt, watching
the nearest searchlight beam rake the desert. “That’s something we missed.”

“We must go in on foot,” Gunter observed. “The
horses will be seen in that light.”

They concealed the animals in a recess in
the rock wall, shouldered their packs and continued on foot toward the searchlight's
outer reach. They hid and watched the massive beam crawl across the desert
toward them, touch the cliff face, then sweep away slowly to the west. Once the
foot of the cliff was in shadow, they ran forward over dry, rocky ground, in
search of cover. Mitch glanced to his left, gauging the distance to the beam as
it reached the end of its arc, and started back. Straining under the weight of
their packs, they dived into a shallow depression, hidden by a boulder, and
waited while the beam passed over them. It moved on, illuminating the cliff,
before rolling back over them a second time on its long patrol to the west. Mitch
started to rise, but Gunter’s powerful hand pulled him back down.

Mitch didn’t resist, ducking quickly back
down and giving Gunter a curious look.

“Camera,” he whispered, pointing to the
cliff wall thirty yards ahead.

Mitch followed Gunter’s gaze to a
rectangular recess in the rock, twenty feet above ground level. It sheltered a swiveling
camera, encased in a metal box, that was synchronized with the movement of the searchlight
beam. If they'd started across the desert toward the south east tower, it would
have seen them silhouetted against the searchlight's beam.

“We’ll have to disable it,” Mitch said. “But
in such a way that they won’t rush someone out here to see what’s wrong.”

He glanced back, ensuring the searchlight
was now well away from them, then together they darted across to the cliff wall.
Once in the safety of the shadows, they edged along the cliff face, below the
field of view of the hidden surveillance camera. When they were beneath the
rectangular shadow, Mitch slipped out of his pack and climbed the creased face
of the cliff to the camera recess. The camera completed its rightward arc as
the searchlight illuminated the south eastern perimeter fences. In unison, the
beam of light began drifting back toward the cliff, while the camera swiveled
slowly to the left, away from the perimeter fences.

Below, Gunter picked up Mitch’s pack and
hurried past to a suitable hiding spot at the foot of the cliffs further north.

Mitch marked Gunter’s new position in his
mind as he drew his knife, then hung one handed from the ledge while the camera
finished its outward arc. His shoulder ached from the strain placed on his
unhealed wound, but he ignored the pain, focusing instead on the searchlight. When
the beam was almost to the cliff, he wedged the knife into the swivel mechanism
the camera was mounted on, confirmed the camera mount was jammed, then
scrambled back down the rock face. He jumped as he neared the ground, rolled to
his feet and sprinted the short distance to Gunter’s hiding place, taking cover
as the searchlight washed over the base of the cliff.

“They’ve still got pictures,” Mitch said. “Hopefully
they’ll think the gears are jammed and wait for the maintenance team to fix it.”

“Or at least wait until dawn.”

When the beam began its inexorable sweep
back across the desert, they started working their way through the shadows
shrouding the foot of the cliff until they were due east of the perimeter
tower.

“How long?” Mitch asked.

Gunter checked the old mechanical wrist
watch he'd purchased the day before, which remained unaffected by the base’s
energy weapon defenses. “Ten minutes.” He held the watch against his ear, to
confirm it was still ticking. “If this antique keeps good time.”

The outer perimeter fence was only two
hundred yards away, with the intervening darkness broken by a few slivers of
light emanating from the flood lights placed around the main building. There was
no sign of guards patrolling the fences or of people moving between buildings. Only
a handful of cars occupied the car park on the western side of the complex, and
while the other structures on the far side of the base were alive with light,
the area seemed peculiarly deserted.

“Maybe they're in the accommodation block
on the other side.” Mitch hadn't ruled out the possibility that the desert heat
kept the base's inhabitants indoors, protected by air conditioning.

Gunter studied the facility’s grounds with
the binoculars. “Or most of it is underground?”

They waited until the searchlight beam had passed
over them again, and was moving away, then they started toward the south east
tower. They approached cautiously, using boulders and gullies for cover, until
they heard the unmistakable beat of rotors. They both went to ground, lying
motionless as the helicopter approached. It was a Blackhawk, painted in desert
camouflage, with its navigation lights off. It swept south over the main
building, was briefly illuminated by light from the base, then it skimmed over
the double line of fences, and vanished into the night. When the sound of the
chopper died, they crawled to within twenty feet of the outer fence, where they
studied the slender corner tower. The big searchlight was mounted on top, in a
housing with doors that locked during day, concealing its presence. Cameras
mounted on the tower watched the fences and the open ground beyond, while
bulbous motion detectors covered the inner perimeter. Suspended in front of the
tower was a trio of infra red sensors, that would become increasingly dangerous
as the ground cooled. Mitch and Gunter exchanged knowing looks, as they pointed
silently to the sensors, certain that to approach closer would result in
discovery.

“They may have seen us already,” Gunter
whispered. “We should be within the detection radius of the IR and optical
systems already.”

“Optical might have missed us in the dark,
but carrying these packs, we're both red hot for IR. How long until the
deadline?”

Gunter checked his mechanical wrist watch. “We
are four minutes late.”

Mitch studied the base, from the south east
tower, past the flood lights mounted on silver poles to the buildings and the
distant fences beyond. The light pole closest to the south east tower was
faulty, blinking erratically, but otherwise, the base was spotless and
deserted. He wondered why there'd been no response from the base's guards, as
he agreed with Gunter, the tower’s sensors should have detected them by now.

Far to the north west, a flare exploded
high in the sky, then another. Two black Apache attack helicopters, lit by the
flares, rapidly orbited the illuminated ground.

“What are they searching for over there?”
Mitch wondered, then realized what was right in front of his eyes. “It's Morse
code!”

“What is?” Gunter said, lowering the
binoculars he was studying the Apaches with.

“That blinking light! It’s Morse code.” Mitch
watched the light cycle through its message, then chuckled. “It says ‘Hackers
Rule’.” He pulled the bolt cutters out of his pack. “Let’s go.”

“What about the helicopters?” Gunter asked
uncertainly.

“It's a diversion! Mouse sent them on a
wild goose chase.”

Mitch sprinted to the outer fence. He
wasted no time testing for electricity or sensors, he just started cutting. He
was certain, whatever tricks the fence had, were neutralized. When the hole was
large enough, he crawled through. Gunter followed, while he ran to the inner
perimeter fence and put the bolt cutters to work again. By the time Gunter had
caught Mitch, he was already crawling through a freshly cut gap in the inner
fence. Far to the north west, the air reverberated with a series of distant
explosions, and the sky flashed repeatedly, as the Apaches fired rockets
blindly at shadows.

“Whatever Mouse has done, he’s really
pissed them off.” Mitch said with a sly grin.

Gathering up their packs, they jogged
toward the south end of the main building, where the intricate system of pipes
rose out of the ground and climbed the wall onto the roof. Behind them, the
erratic light stopped blinking, and the outer perimeter fence sparked where
Mitch had severed electrical connections, signaling the fence was live again.

“Looks like Mouse has been kicked out,”
Mitch concluded as he reached the corner of the building. “That didn’t take
them long.”

“Getting out will be harder than getting in,”
Gunter said ominously.

Mitch took a moment to study the vertical
pipes, touching the nearest with his hand. It was mildly warm with heavy bolts
sealing the joints. The pipe vibrated slightly from the liquid flowing through
it at moderate speed.

“What do you make of this?”

Gunter moved along the row of vertical
pipes, studying them, then shook his head uncertainly. “A circulation system? Perhaps
it is part of the base’s power supply, or for temperature control?”

Mitch stole a look around the corner of the
building. The pipes rose from the ground to the roof like a row of trees along
an expanse of wall devoid of windows and doors. After several hundred yards,
the pipes ended, then windows ran along the remaining length of wall to a single
door. The double fences to the right ran parallel to the building all the way
north to another distant tower and a large square building a mile away. A small
access road, flanked by evenly spaced light poles, separated the building from
the inner fence.

Another explosion rumbled in from the
north, breaking Mitch’s fascination with the row of vertical pipes. He starting
jogging along the side of the building, with Gunter close behind. When they reached
the last of the pipes, he paused only long enough to ensure the windows ahead were
showing no lights, then he ran to the solitary metal door at the end of the
building. It was locked, and surprisingly sealed with rubber insulation. Gunter
examined the door, while Mitch watched the northern sky warily. The two helicopter
gunships were now circling to the east, taking turns dropping flares as they
followed a new search pattern just beyond the fences.

“Combination lock, and us with no
functioning electronic equipment!” Gunter said, producing a crow bar. “I will have
to do this the old Prussian way.” He rammed the crow bar into the door frame,
and threw his weight against it, trying to force the door open.

Far to the north, the two Apaches swept
past the north east tower and began scouring the desert between the double
chain link fences and the cliffs. Mitch knew the new search pattern would lead
the two Apaches right to them.

“Hurry,” Mitch said urgently.

Gunter crashed the crowbar into the door
frame again, tearing through the insulation, then pulling with all his
considerable strength. “Almost got it,” he groaned as the door frame creaked
and metal twisted away from the locking bolt.

He rammed the crowbar home again, placed
his foot on the wall, and leaned back with all his might, wrenching the door
open. Electrical sparks flashed as the lock tore free of its connecting wires
and fell half out of the door. A few hundred yards away, one of the choppers began
circling back to the outer perimeter fence, toward them. Gunter shouldered the
door aside, as a cloud of condensation wafted out into the warm night air. Mitch
darted in behind him, then slammed the door shut and listened as the Apache
passed overhead without stopping.

Mitch breathed a sigh of relief, shivering
as the freezing air clawed at his skin. He turned to find himself in a darkened
room, lit only by the pale light filtering in through a single frost coated
window. The Cool Room was a large square laboratory, filled with shiny
stainless steel surgical devices, steel refrigerators, narrow metal tables and
white spotlessly clean tiled floors. Gunter stood a few feet from him,
mesmerized.

On every table was a human body, face down,
all with rectangular sections of their skulls removed, exposing the naked human
brain tissue within.