Exit 9

6

The director of Preparation tapped the lever another half inch toward Hot. Within a second, steam began to rise from the water washing over him. While Bluebird was always kept at a warm, comfortable level, the frigid view outside often made him feel like he was freezing. Other than avoiding the windows, the best remedy was always a hot shower. He took at least two a day, sometimes three. Though the official allotment was one, that didn’t apply to him-like most of the other facility rules.

He was just starting to feel thawed out when the soft bong of his doorbell sounded in the other room. There was a time when he could have afforded to ignore it, but not now, not when they were this close to activation.

He turned off the water, and stuck his head out of the narrow stall. “One moment!”

He toweled off quickly, pulled on his slacks and shirt, then flipped on the monitor next to the door. His visitor was Carl Herlin, one of his aides.

The DOP opened the door. “Yes?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Major Ross wanted me to tell you they have the information, and that he would be in the map room if you’re looking for him.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”

He shut the door without waiting for a response, finished getting dressed, and headed out.

Technically, the map room was called Conference Room B. It received its unofficial name from the table that dominated the space. Using touch controls on either side, a map of any location on the planet in any format could be projected onto the tabletop from underneath. With another selection of the controls, the user could draw whatever they wanted on top of the map-lines, words, circles-and the resulting image could be saved and printed out.

Ross was leaning over the table when the DOP stepped inside. He instantly straightened up.

“Good evening, Director.”

The DOP walked up to the table. “I hear you have some news.”

“We think we’ve been able to pinpoint Bravo Four’s location, and by the size of it, I would guess that it’s their main headquarters. May I show you?”

The DOP dipped his head, and Ross touched the controls. On the table, a map of an area that encompassed parts of Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado appeared.

“Their return messages have been coming from here.” Ross touched a button, and a red circle appeared in the western portion of Montana, less than a hundred miles from the Canadian border.

Ross zoomed in on the map, then switched to a satellite view. The circle was in a wide valley with mountains blocking off the western end, and rolling hills to the north and south. Trees and meadows took turns filling the valley, but from the height the image was taken, the DOP could see no roads.

Ross removed the dot and pushed in again, focusing on an area near the center. Suddenly, several things came into view at once. There were roads, though none appeared paved. The more interesting item, though, was the large building right in the middle of where the dot had been.

The magnification increased one more level.

Large was not right, the DOP realized. Huge was more accurate. This was no mountain mansion. This would have been a big building in any city in the state. And yet, the only way to get there was by dirt road.

“Look at this,” Ross said.

He was pointing at a spot that had to be a mile or two from the building. At first, the DOP didn’t see anything important about it, but when Ross moved his finger back and forth in a line, it became clear.

A runway. Either covered with grass or painted to look that way.

Was this really it? Had they found it?

If so, he and the other Directors were going to be very, very happy.

It was, he knew, not a discovery that was necessary for their success. The people who lived there would all die just as quickly as those on the rest of the planet once KV-27a was released. If he could help it, though, that wasn’t the kind of death he wanted for them. He wanted a more direct hand in what they would suffer. He wanted them to scream in pain, then beg and plead for their lives. These were the gnats who had been dogging Project Eden for years, never enough to throw things off, but causing annoyances just the same.

Definitely unnecessary, but wholly satisfying.

“Excellent work,” he said. “Come up with a plan on how we might best deal with them.”

“Yes, sir.”