MJ-12: Inception

19

Ellis was looking for General Vandenberg, scanning the room for that impressive-looking blue/black formal uniform. Ellis liked this party. He liked the people he was surrounded by. They were smart, witty, a good crowd. Not like the damn fools he used to sell Chevrolets to, or the folks down at the country club in Mobile… who were also the people he sold Cadillacs to. There were real things going down in this room. Important things. Sure, it was all about the Jews and whether they got their own country. Whatever. He didn’t give a damn about that.

But there was power in the room, and he liked being a part of it, feeding off the energy. It felt like everyone else was discounting him, and Ellis knew he worked best when he was being underestimated. But this spy stuff was getting out of hand, especially with that fool Cal running off to God knows where. Ellis had a feeling that whatever was happening, the fun and games were gonna end fast.

“General, sir,” Ellis said, finally locating Vandenberg and tapping him on the shoulder. “The Deputy Secretary wants a word, if he may?”

Vandenberg scowled briefly at Ellis, then turned and smiled at the other bigwigs in his circle, excusing himself. He then motioned toward one of the alcoves in the harem’s audience hall. “What is it?” he finally asked when they were out of earshot, brusquely.

“Hooks ain’t responding to the bail-out — he went and followed the Russki. Lodge and Dubinsky went after him,” Ellis said. “We got company, too. May even be a Russian Variant around.”

Vandenberg looked stunned for a moment, then gathered his reserve. “Contact Wallace. Find Hooks ASAP. Then track down the others and provide backup.”

“That wasn’t the plan, sir,” Ellis objected quietly. “That damn… Hooks messed up. The MGB guys may be here. We gotta follow the ops plan. Time to go.”

The general arched an eyebrow at Ellis. “The stars on this uniform aren’t some kind of costume, Ellis. I just gave you orders. Your job is to follow them. Get cracking.”

Vandenberg stepped out of the alcove and walked off back toward the party, leaving Ellis furious, conjuring up images of traditional Southern justice against Cal. But he nonetheless left the hall and went back toward the entrance, down one corridor and the next, past kitchens and security guards, until he came out where the cars were parked.

Danny Wallace was Vandenberg’s driver, boasting the rank and insignia of an airman first class. Between the spectacles and the boyish looks, the Navy officer managed to pull it off.

“Sorry, sir!” Danny said, folding up the newspaper he’d been reading, and throwing it onto the seat next to him. “Is the general leaving?”

Ellis looked around — there was no one in earshot — then leaned in close. “Yushchenko called it off, we sent the bail-out order, but Cal done wandered off. Frank and Maggie went after him. The general told me to tell you, then go back ’em up, but damn if I know where everyone went off to.” He threw up his hands. “INSIGHT passed a note; maybe there’s a Russian Variant around. It’s a fuckin’ mess.”

“A Russian Variant? I didn’t sense…” Danny’s voice trailed off as he closed his eyes a moment, looking as though he were either deep in concentration or just completely asleep — then his eyes flew open and a look like none Ellis had seen before crossed the young officer’s face. “We gotta go. It’s worse than you think.”

Cal kept tapping the key on his radio furiously — four quick bursts, Somebody talk to me — but wasn’t getting a response. It was dark, he was now in some godforsaken basement in a five-hundred-year-old palace, and he was pretty sure the reception on the radio was shot anyway.

Worst part was that Yushchenko was nowhere to be found.

Cal remembered the exercises at Area 51, where he’d follow someone through their little encampment and do his best to stay hidden while keeping the target in view. Back at the base, it’d been easy as pie, but as he now stumbled clumsily over ancient stones in the cellar of this harem, he knew he succeeded in practice only because he’d known the layout of the camp like the back of his hand. Here, in the dim light, he’d spent too much time trying not to fall down on his backside and, in the process, had lost the man he’d been tailing and also realized he hadn’t even been paying attention enough to find his way back out.

Turn, another turn, and another. Deeper, down some stairs. He felt like he was being herded through a maze but didn’t know who was herding or what was at the end. The hallways were lit with dim electric bulbs too far apart to cast enough light to reveal where he actually was. He was grateful not to have seen anyone else, though, since he’d have a hard time explaining why he was down there to begin with. The stock reply was something about a security check, but he knew that wouldn’t hold water for long.

But now, thoroughly lost, that excuse was looking better and better — so long as he could actually bump into someone else to use it on.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Cal heard something that didn’t sound a whole lot like Turkish or Arabic — the two languages he’d been listening to for days now. And then, clear as day, he heard:

“Da. Da, tovarishch.”

Cal didn’t get much in the way of language training at Area 51, but he did remember a bit of basic Russian.

He stopped and thought about his uniform dress shoes — he would have to have a word with that Mrs. Stevens when he got back, because they might as well have been tap shoes on the stones of the basement. Cal moved slowly, and hopefully quietly, as he heard the two Russians — no, wait, three Russians — talking in a room up ahead.

“Harasho. Dasvidanyia.”

Good. Good-bye. That might’ve exhausted all Cal’s Russian knowledge, but it was enough. He looked around and, heart racing now, realized that whoever was in there would have to walk right by him on the way out — and no excuses about security checks would save his bacon. He braced himself as best he could, hoping he could work his Enhancement so that he wouldn’t permanently harm whomever might come out of the room.

No one did.

Sweating and gritting his teeth, Cal edged slowly closer to the room. Only when he ventured a peek around the corner did he see there was another exit on the other side — and a Russian still in there.

Cal quickly edged back out of sight and tried to process what he’d just seen. It looked like a storage room or pantry of some kind. Lots of canned goods there, a bunch of sacks — probably flour or sugar or something like that — and some kind of well. Could be where the palace got some of its water, being that it was pretty old.

But no Yushchenko. He thought for a moment that maybe that fellow inside could let him know one way or the other. He quickly dismissed the notion, knowing that the Soviets, if that was who they were, wouldn’t take kindly to being interrupted for any reason. And if Yushchenko was trying to hand off information or even switch sides, well… it wouldn’t do anybody any good to bring that kind of notice down on him, now, would it?

Maggie said she got a note from Yushchenko. Maybe that would have to do.

Cal was about ready to retreat and try to get back upstairs when he heard echoes of footsteps from somewhere else in basement, followed by a familiar voice from inside the room. “Say, friend, can you tell me where the washroom is?”

Without thinking, Cal’s training kicked in. He whipped around the corner into the room and placed his hand on the Russian’s neck, draining enough life force from the man to exhaust him and put him to sleep without hurting him, thank God. As the man collapsed, he turned to Frank, who was pointing a gun at him — and then quickly pointed it away again. “Christ, Cal! I almost shot you. Where’ve you been? We’re in trouble here.”

Cal eyed the gun nervously until it was back in Frank’s pocket. “Got turned around. Yushchenko’s not here. I lost him. What’s going on?”

“Russians may have a Variant here,” Frank said curtly.

“Oh, Lord, no.”

Frank and Cal were quickly joined by Maggie, and the three of them looked around the room. “This is at the very edge of the complex,” Frank said. “I didn’t see Yushchenko circle back. Where’d he go?”

“There were three of ’em in here,” Cal said. “Three voices, all speaking Russian. Couldn’t make it out other than a few words. Then I heard someone say good-bye, and then nothing except this guy.”

Maggie put her hands on her hips. “God damn it. How’d we lose two Russians like that?”

“I don’t know, Miss Maggie…” Cal began.

He stopped when he felt something pulling at his belt.

Cal looked down and saw nothing — but felt it grow more intense, an invisible force that seemed to be wrapped around his waist now, like ghostly arms, pulling him physically away from the others.

He stumbled. “What the…”

And then in a blur, he was gone, receding into darkness.

“Cal!” Frank shouted as he ran toward the well in the cellar room. One moment, they were all standing there talking. The next, Cal was literally sucked down the well as if by a powerful magnet. Except he wasn’t made of metal, and… there was a lot wrong with the analogy, which was the point.

“He’s terrified,” Maggie said quickly. “Something’s got him, but I don’t sense anyone else.”

“No kidding,” Frank said. He quickly took stock of the room and, finding folded linens, began tying tablecloths together. “Shine a light down there and see where it goes.”

Maggie took a small flashlight from her clutch and pointed it into the well. “I see a bottom, I think. Maybe thirty feet down?”

Frank dashed over to the edge of the well and looked down. “Only about twenty-five feet. About four of these should do. Help me tie it off.”

They managed to affix the end of their crude rope to a thick wooden shelf stocked with heavy sacks of grain and large cans of food, and could only hope they wouldn’t knock it over. Time wasn’t on their side; it would have to do.

“I’ll go first,” Maggie said. “If there’s anybody down there, I can keep ’em in check until you join me.”

Frank opened his mouth to argue — then closed it. She was right. She could do a number on anybody down there: make them scared enough to run, or have a heart attack, or calm them into utter tranquility. Frank’s best defense would be to go in shooting. “All right. Go.”

Maggie kicked off her heels and tried to clamber up the side of the well in her dress, then swore vociferously and tore the gown’s slit all the way up to her hip. Frank tried to look away but didn’t quite get there in time, and winced in anticipation of her rebuff.

“Eyes ahead, soldier,” Maggie teased as she went over the edge and started rappelling down the well.

Frank waited at the top, gun drawn with suppressor attached, until Maggie tugged at the tablecloth-rope twice. All clear. Frank proceeded down after her, only to feel the tablecloth-rope suddenly give way about halfway down, followed by the sound of a crash above. Frank fell the last ten feet, remembering to roll with the impact — and nearly plowing into Maggie in the process.

“Careful!” she hissed.

Frank dragged himself to his feet — his legs would be sore in the morning, but otherwise he managed the fall pretty well. “Sorry. I weigh more than you.”

The two looked around to get their bearings in the low light. There was a roughhewn tunnel leading off to the… west, maybe. West and slightly south, if Frank’s memory of the palace’s upstairs layout was correct.

The tunnel was barely five feet high, just wide enough for them to walk single file. It looked old — easily a hundred years. “Ancient cistern,” Ibrahim’s memories whispered. “This may lead to the Basilica Cistern underneath Aya Sofia and the rest of the city.”

Frank checked his gun and held it in both hands, leaving Maggie with the torch. “These tunnels may get bigger. Might run all under the city,” Frank told her. “Old water supply.”

“Looks dry to me,” Maggie said quietly. “We gonna end up in sewage or something?”

“Well, if the Russians came down here, chances are they’ve scouted it out pretty well,” Frank whispered. “So, I don’t think we’ll drown. But sewage is possible. Let’s go.”

Frank led the way, using his lighter as a torch and pointing his gun ahead as much as possible while picking his way across the stone floor. Maggie followed, tsking silently from time to time; the stones were probably hell on her bare feet, but heels would’ve been worse. The tunnel remained straight but sloped ever so slightly upward as they went, which made sense to Frank if water had once flowed through there to Topkapi.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around, but it was just Maggie, who had a finger to her lips. She pointed down the tunnel, then held up three fingers.

Frank cursed himself for being so jumpy — he ought to have known better — then mouthed, “Cal?”

She shrugged and made a so-so motion with her hand.

Motioning her to stay put, Frank flicked the lighter closed and allowed his eyes to adjust for several excruciating moments. Finally, a slightly less dark patch of something coalesced out of the blackness around him: another light source. And so, he carefully, slowly stepped forward, just as he was taught, sweeping each foot out in front of him to check for obstacles before setting it down on the floor again.

They hadn’t really told him in training how goddamn tedious it was to walk like that.

Finally, he was able to make out an archway ahead. Murmuring sounds reached his ears. He quickened his pace slightly, the archway now in range. They needed to find Cal or, if necessary, ensure that the Reds didn’t get their hands on him. Frank didn’t like that second option one bit but worried that Vandenberg, with Ellis at his ear, might prefer to deny Cal to the Russians and just get out of Dodge. And it was pretty likely the Russians had a Variant who could suck people down wells, apparently. Time to move fast.

In his haste, he kicked a stone.

It skittered loudly down the tunnel and then stopped, as if it dropped off into space. The murmuring immediately stopped.

Fuck.

Frank raised his weapon ahead of him even as he heard Maggie’s footsteps behind him, bare feet slapping against stone. Then he felt a strange tug at his midsection, then another…

… and then he shot forward as if being pulled by a goddamn rocket.

Frank shot through the tunnel so fast, his feet didn’t even drag. All he could see was the mouth of the tunnel getting closer at a phenomenal clip. Seconds later, he was through — and flying through the air in the middle of what seemed to be a huge cavern. Below him he saw a small light and at least two people blur past. But then he looked up and there was a pillar ahead of him — a huge, thick column of stone racing to greet him — and all he could do was ball up and swing his feet around.

He felt his shins bow… and break, sending lances of pain up his body.

Then the tugging sensation left… and he started falling.

As she dashed down the tunnel after Frank, Maggie felt his terror acutely as she saw his body fly out of the tunnel, then sheer horror and immense pain — and thank God she couldn’t actually feel the pain, just the emotions stemming from it — and finally felt everything wink out altogether as he lost consciousness. Hopefully it was just that, rather than something more permanent.

And for the first time in months, Maggie felt something powerful well up inside her. She worried for Frank and Cal. She actually cared — and cared a lot. It was actual, genuine, one hundred percent real emotion — a shit-ton of it cascading inside her. Worry and grief, fear… and anger.

Lots of anger.

She reached out and could sense three minds ahead of her, none of them Frank or Cal, all buzzing with new tensions and worries. So, before she even reached the mouth of the tunnel, her mind grasped the strings of these emotions and began twisting… hard.

The screams were beautiful.

Then the guns started going off. The outline of the end of the tunnel expanded as she raced closer, and she twisted again, even harder. Fuck you. Be afraid. I’m coming and if you don’t fucking flee right now, I’m going to make you die of pure fucking terror.

She was so occupied that she charged through the mouth without realizing it — and suddenly started falling.

With a scream, she twisted her body just enough for her hands to catch the lip of the tunnel, saving her from falling into the cistern. Swearing enough to make a sailor turn red, she grasped at a rope that had been anchored there and quickly rappelled down into the darkness, even as bullets careened off the stone several feet away. She’d lost the emotional grip she had on the people here, unable to concentrate on them while at the same time keeping herself from falling. Thankfully, aiming in the dark was a bitch for anyone, and she managed to get to the bottom and take cover behind a pillar.

She reached out again, finding those threads of fear, and pulled as hard as she could, watching the threads in her mind’s eye turn bright red as they became taut. The shooting stopped, and the screams of terrified men echoed in the chamber, along with their fleeing footsteps.

Peeking around the corner of the pillar, she saw Cal was there, lying on the ground at the very edge of the light, unconscious; that’s why she couldn’t sense him. She knelt down beside him and saw he was breathing. Thank God. She then scanned the rest of the room as best she could, trying to figure out what had happened to Frank. Was he shot? Knocked out and captured? She looked back at the tunnel, then across the cavern… to a massive pillar. And at the base of it was a dark, crumpled heap.

Maggie ran over to him and struggled to remember the cursory first aid training she’d received at Area 51. First, assess the situation. Patient unconscious. Blood at his mouth and nose. Legs askew and, at second glance, at horrible angles.

Pulse. She put two fingers to Frank’s neck and felt a heartbeat. That was a start. She put her hand against his nose and mouth, and felt breath. Good. After that… well, she knew she shouldn’t move him, and wasn’t quite sure how she would, anyway. He seemed to have a head wound in addition to all the damage to his legs. Maybe his spine, too, for all she knew.

She looked around and went through her options. Cal would be their best bet. He would probably be able to stabilize Frank, maybe even get him walking again. She started scrambling toward him to figure out his condition… then felt two more minds entering her range. Had the goons in the chamber doubled back? Should she have followed them?

Didn’t matter. They’d run again if they got closer — and if they didn’t, she’d make their hearts burst. She started to reach out with her mind, waiting to grasp at the threads of their emotions as soon as they presented themselves.

Then her clutch started vibrating.

She reached in and pulled out her compact, flipping it open. “Where are you, dammit?” she hissed quietly.

“We’re in a big old underground vault of some kind, with pillars,” Ellis replied. “Where are you?”

Maggie ran over and grabbed the left-behind lantern, raising it high. “Over here!” she called out, her voice racing and bouncing around the chamber.

Two sets of footsteps echoed through the cistern as Ellis and Danny ran toward her. “Where’s Frank and Cal?” Danny demanded. “There are at least two Variants down here that weren’t around an hour ago.”

She pointed. “Both down. Frank’s hurt bad. Cal, I don’t know. It was… I don’t know what. They flew.”

Ellis ran over to Frank while Danny knelt down next to Cal. “‘They flew,’” Danny repeated, a statement of numb disbelief, as he checked Cal over. “Probably just the result of one of the Variants. Who knows what the other one might be able to do. We need to get out of here now. Right now.”

“We need Cal awake. He’s the only one who can get Frank moving. Between the two of them…” Maggie’s voice trailed off as her ears pricked up. There was a new sound barely audible in the air, something she couldn’t put her finger on, like a low background hum.

Danny heard it too, pausing and cocking his head for a moment. Then he stood up suddenly. “Oh, shit. Water.”

Maggie paled as dust started falling from the ancient ceiling and bits of masonry began raining down the walls and pillars. “They’re flooding the place?”

“Probably,” Danny said, racing into action. “Give me a hand.”

Together, Maggie and Danny carried and dragged Cal over to Ellis, who remained at Frank’s side by the base of the pillar.

“What the hell’s that noise, and what the hell are we supposed to do now?” he said. Maggie could sense Ellis was near breaking point.

Danny knelt down next to him, grabbed his shoulders, and got in front of his face. “Ellis, listen to me. I think they’re going to flood the cistern. But you can save us. All of us.”

Wide-eyed, Ellis gawked back at Danny. “How the hell am I supposed to—” He stopped midsentence as he suddenly understood.

“Change it. Change it into something else,” Danny urged as he looked at his feet. A thin stream of water flowed across the floor of the cistern, a harbinger of the wave to come. “We don’t have time. Make a stone wall. Make a dome. Keep us safe.”

Looking from Danny to Maggie, the color gone from his skin, Ellis shook his head to clear his thoughts and began nodding. “Yeah… yeah. I think I can do that. I can do that. Yeah.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Danny stood up and motioned to Maggie. “Put Cal next to Frank. We need to gather around this pillar. Ellis can then form the wall around us. The water’s flowing from that direction,” he said, pointing. “Start building there, and form it up around and behind us as you go.”

Ellis put his hands down in the water — it was about a half-inch deep and flowing faster now — and closed his eyes. The water around his hand immediately went dark and gray, as if muddied, and the color spread outward all around Ellis. Then the mud solidified in a second wave, becoming smooth rock that thinly coated the cistern floor. “I think I got it. But I can’t build off it. Not working like that.”

“Then think!” Danny urged. “You got a lot of water coming. We need to put something between it and us!”

Ellis looked up and saw white-capped water at the very edge of the light. “It’s coming!” He screwed his eyes shut and shoved his hands back down into the now three-inch-deep water.

“Get behind the pillar!” Maggie shouted over the increasing roar of water. “Drag them over!”

As she dashed over to Cal’s limp form and grabbed a leg, Maggie thought she heard shouting — but the din of the rushing water was growing too loud to hear what was said. She pulled for all she was worth, slowly dragging Cal toward the pillar.

But it was too late. A wall of water at least ten feet high rose toward them now out of the darkness, rushing and roaring. Ellis was still out in front of them, completely exposed to the oncoming wave, his hands moving across the water at his feet, quickly turning it to stone. He was as afraid as anyone whose head she’d ever been in.

“Ellis!” she cried out. “Move!”

He didn’t. Instead, he stood up to face the oncoming water and reached out in front of him both hands. Just as it was about to hit, Maggie turned her head and braced for impact.

It never came.

Maggie looked back up to see Ellis standing there, his arms still outstretched, before a massive wall at least twenty feet long and ten feet high, made of stone, and yet still curved and looking like it would flow forward at any moment. There were tendrils and eddies in the wall, frozen in rock as if carved by the best goddamn sculptor in the world, arched as if poised to fall down on Ellis at any moment and crush him.

But it didn’t. The rest of the water diverted around the new wall, well away from the Variants.

Ellis turned and smiled. “Well… how about that?” he said quietly.

Then he collapsed to the floor in a faint. Around where he lay, the stone turned to glass as his Enhancement’s side effect took hold. The stone wall held, however — Ellis’s Enhancement was permanent.

All Maggie could do was stare and come to grips with the fact they were still alive.

Then she noticed something at the top of the wall.

A leg.

Reaching for the nearby lantern, she held it aloft and saw a body at the top of the stone sculpture, hanging over one of the waves, with everything below his belt encased in stone. He must have been flushed through the tunnel with the water, then trapped inside it as it turned to stone.

He was wearing a Soviet military uniform.