Sedona Conspiracy

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ^{THUNDER IN THE BAY}

There had been many emotional experiences in his life, but sitting home alone for a day and a night after the fight with Nataly now ranked among the worst of them. Eric had reconnected the phone the morning after, but no calls had come in. He was crazy to think she might call. It was all a sham, a ruse to accomplish the tasks of the people running her. Naming Vasyl had possibly been a slip. A Russian name. She was undoubtedly a sleeper, probably trained in Siberia before she was an adult. They would have done well to keep up her psychological profile. She was still young, and lonely. Maybe she really had fallen for him, and in doing so made a mess of things. Her masters might think Eric would now be so distraught he couldn’t do his job. I will not give them that satisfaction, he thought, but a secret part of him also knew he would be protecting Nataly.

He survived the day by taking two five mile morning and evening runs in the back country, penetrating so far into the wilderness area that he spooked a javelina that ran squealing from him. Once, he had to leap high over a rattlesnake basking in the morning sun. The exercise left him catatonic for part of the day, and that night he slept like a dead man.

Next morning the usual van arrived for him at five, and by six he was taking the elevator down to Sparrow’s bay.

The doors opened, and four guards were standing there. “Emergency, sir,” said one of them. “We’ll walk you to the bay.”

The guards walked on either side of him the few yards left to the personnel door of Sparrow’s bay. Four more guards were standing there at port arms, looking grim.

“What’s the problem?” asked Eric. “I have a flight coming up in the morning.”

“Sorry, sir, it’s been scrubbed. Sergeant Nutt will explain when he gets here.”

“What?” Eric’s face flushed with anger. Hell, she told someone what happened, and now they’re going to pull me out of the assignment. How stupid can things get?

“Red alert, sir. The base is being locked down. That’s all I can say.”

Mother of God, if I can’t have a relationship then at least let me have the work. Oh great, now I’m pitying myself. What the fuck is going on? Eric was tempted to force his way past the guards, but then there was a call from behind him.

“Eric! Hold on. I’ll get you inside.”

Sergeant Alan Nutt walked towards him, a cheerful smile on his face, and clipboard in hand. “Sorry, but we’ve had to delay the flight a couple of days.”

“Why?”

“I’ll show you,” said Alan.

The guards moved aside. Alan opened the personnel door, and Eric followed him inside.

The bay was in chaos, people swarming everywhere. The big door was open and a flatcar had been brought in on the rails. The shop and welding space was empty, equipment packed in crates along the wall, and the big crane hovered far above Sparrow, lowering a giant hook towards it. Men were crawling all over the craft, attaching a web of cables and chains.

“We’ve received word that the base will be under attack in a matter of hours. We’re moving Sparrow to a safer place in case the fight spreads to this area,” said Alan.

“Attack by who? This base is nuke proof from the surface.”

“It’s not coming from there. We’ve been warned that a mercenary force will be coming through the portal to place nuclear weaponry here and detonate it. The fight will be in the portal bay. I just came from Davis. He wants you out of it.”

“That’s bullshit. I came here to get rid of saboteurs, and now they’re out in the open and you want me to disappear. That’s not going to happen, Alan.”

“Colonel’s orders, sir.”

“I don’t work for him. All you have is military police. You’ll need all the help you can get. How many are coming at us?”

“Maybe a hundred.”

“You might have half that in military police.”

“We have what we need. One more man won’t make a difference. You’re needed to fly Sparrow. It’s been decided, sir.”

“Like hell it has. I’m seeing Davis.” Eric walked away, but Alan hurried to catch up to him.

“He won’t see you.”

“I’m not asking.”

“Sir, the fight could take out several bays. We can’t risk your life or Dillon’s. You have to stay with the star craft.”

“You didn’t tell me who’s behind the attack, sergeant. These are the people I was sent here to stop.” Eric punched a button, and an elevator door opened.

“One of Brown’s own people. Looks like one man has been behind everything from the start.” Alan looked nervous, his eyes darting around as the elevator ascended. “Sir, this stink you’re making is going to get me in trouble.”

“Sorry, Alan. Hazards of the trade.”

The elevator doors opened. Alan grabbed his arm, but Eric pulled him along the few steps to Davis’ office door and pushed it open without knocking.

“I tried to stop him, Colonel,” said Alan.

Davis stood up from behind his desk, and slammed both hands on it. “Even NSA can’t give you the authority to enter a commandant’s office without knocking, Price. Now get the hell out of here and try it the right way!”

Eric walked up to him in a fury, and whatever was showing in his eyes made Davis sit down hard. “I don’t give a shit about your protocol. I want to know why a firefight is coming with the guys I’m after and I’m being sent away someplace else.”

Davis’ eyes seemed to cloud over. “What?”

“He can’t be involved, Colonel,” said Alan. “If he’s killed we’ll be set back weeks or even months. We’re running out of time.”

“I was sent here to kill bad guys, and you’re not letting me do it. I think you can kiss your retirement goodbye.”

Davis glared at Alan. “Now wait a minute. We didn’t talk about Price. What did you tell him?”

“We cannot risk his life, Colonel. I forbid it.”

Davis’ face went purple. “You forbid it? I am the commander of this base, whether you like it or not, and I do the forbidding around here. If Price wants to fight, let him fight. I don’t give a shit whether he lives or dies. Dillon can handle everything from here on.”

“We had a agreement, Colonel. You agreed to—”

“I am in charge of this base. Get the hell out of here, sergeant. I’ll talk to Price without your interference.”

“I’m going to the Council right now,” said Alan.

Eric was astonished. Alan’s eyes blazed, and his fists were clenched. It was certainly not a good way to retain rank. “Price had better be here when I get back,” said Alan. He turned, left the room, and didn’t bother to close the door behind him.

“Close the door,” said Davis, and Eric closed it.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah?”

“That little scene should show you the kind of crap I’ve had to deal with around here. He goes to the Council, they go to the Pentagon, and I get new orders. I’m not running anything here.”

“No insubordination in today’s military, I guess.”

“He’s not one of mine,” said Davis, and sat down again. “He works for Brown and the other guys who brought us Sparrow. Brown’s spy, I’d call him, and he’s smooth, moves freely among our personnel, and knows everything. Might be American, but I don’t think so.”

“Is he telling the truth about the base being attacked?”

“I believe it. I’ve never seen him so emotional, near panic. He’s scared, and that means we should be scared. They never let our people into the portal bay, just the control area. My police will set up a perimeter beyond there, in Sparrow’s bay and the main tunnel. He says they don’t need us to repel the attack. Maybe he’ll use that electromagnetic shield thing on the portal.”

“I’ve seen it,” said Eric. “That red glow, but when it lifts off all you see is inky blackness. How far back does the tunnel go? Maybe they have people stationed inside it.”

“Never got near the thing,” said Davis. “They could have an army in there, for all I know. End of a career, Price. That’s why the Pentagon put me here. Fuck ’em, I’m still in charge. You want a fight?”

“You bet. Alan says they know who’s behind the attack, and when they’re coming. I want to be there.”

“I can get you into the control area. That’s the best I can do.”

“Close enough. When?”

“Right now. The attack is expected in two or three hours. It’ll take nearly that long to get Sparrow out of there.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait,” said Davis, opened a drawer and took out a photograph, handed it to Eric. “If you see that guy during the attack, do me a favor and shoot him in the head. He’s the man behind everything bad that’s been going on. I want him dead, and so does Brown.”

Eric looked at the photograph, and shook his head. “I’m not surprised. This guy has been giving money to my ‘business’ partner and me. He wants intel on Sparrow and our test results. Says it belongs to a client of his who wants it back.”

Davis’ face flushed. “He told me a big aerospace company wanted to develop Sparrow as a commercial carrier. Big money for me, he said, and I even bought it until the sabotage started. At least you collected your bribe. All I got was shit. So kill him.”

“If I see him, and that’s unlikely. We’ll be fighting his hired help. Guess his client wants Sparrow destroyed if he can’t get it back.”

“Where’d you get the picture?” asked Eric. It showed the head and shoulders of John Coulter in suit and tie, a slight smile on his face. Eric handed the photograph back to Davis.

“Got it from Brown. He said if we ever saw this man we should shoot him on sight.”

“Well I’ll certainly oblige him if I get the chance, but it looks like Brown doesn’t want me to have that chance.”

“Screw Brown. Let’s get out of here,” said Davis. “I’ll get you some weapons on the way.”

They left the office, stepped into an elevator and descended one floor. “Confession time,” said Eric. “I have a small auto on my ankle and something bigger squirreled away in that little niche you gave me that I hardly ever use.”

“That’s tunnel level. We’ll go there last. Right now I want you looking like you belong here. Fewer questions that way,” said Davis.

The doors opened. Davis led him down a curving hallway to an area caged in by heavy wire mesh. He punched in a code on a panel lock and the door clicked open. Inside were rows of shelves floor to ceiling and racks of M16 rifles. Davis pointed to three shelves loaded with boxes, boots and heavily padded helmets. “Sizes on the boxes. Grab an issue, boots and helmet. I’ll give you five minutes to look like a soldier.”

Eric found what he needed and stripped down while Davis selected two rifles from the racks and extra magazines in pouches on a shelf near them.

It took him seven minutes to dress, and squeeze into a vest. Davis slung a rifle over his own shoulder, handed the other to Eric and gave him an appraising look. “Okay, you’re a private again. Hopefully they won’t notice you’re missing a name patch. I’m assigning you to guard duty in the portal control room.”

He handed Eric a belt loaded with magazine pouches. “Load and lock, private.”

Eric put the belt on, pushed a magazine into the M16 and worked the slide. “I still want my other handgun,” he said.

Davis nodded, loaded his own weapon, and locked the supply cage behind them. They went down one level to a short hallway where Eric had been given a small desk and chair in an open niche in red rock closed by a barred door, making it look like a cell. Eric retrieved the long slide Colt he’d kept there since the attack on Leon, but left the military Beretta. At times like this, the stopping power of the forty-five seemed appropriate for the job.

In the tunnel area men and vehicles were hurrying everywhere. Heads didn’t even turn at the sight of two more helmeted soldiers carrying rifles. Davis led Eric to the door they’d used before to gain access to portal bay, a door from a dock formed by a cutout in the main tunnel. Eric suddenly remembered seeing the ambulance parked there when Leon had been taken away. Opposite the transparent wall of the machine shop was a set of elevator doors that had likely taken Leon up or down for treatment. But was he still alive?

They went through the card-key door, and two soldiers watched Davis slide his card at the second door and punch in his code. A few yards ahead Davis pushed open the door to the control room, and they stepped inside.

“Security. I’m placing a guard in this control area. Stay out of the way, private,” growled Davis.

Four young men were hunched over the control panel, and barely looked up when they entered. It was the same four Eric had seen before, including the one who had passed him a message. But there were no signs of recognition from a brief glance. The men seemed totally absorbed by their work, and with his helmet pulled low Eric had a faint hope he would not be recognized. Davis gave him a thumbs-up and exited the room, leaving Eric standing in a corner next to two thermoses of something and four empty cups. He unslung his rifle and moved it to port arms to assume his role. The other four men played hands over the control panel, jabbered something incoherent into throat mikes, and didn’t look at him.

The floor of the portal bay was relatively quiet, a few people walking here and there, and one wall shimmered red. The floor was empty of crates or other containers. Eric pressed himself back into his corner when he saw Alan Nutt come out a side door and walk over to the shimmering portal to talk to two military policemen stationed there. The conversation was short. Alan walked around the periphery of the bay, still talking. Suddenly he put a hand to his ear, and looked straight up at the control room. He scowled, shook his head and walked back to the door he’d entered by. He was still talking when he exited the bay.

Eric tensed. The young man who’d passed a message to him earlier now turned to look at him.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, sir. We have a bad situation coming up.”

“I know all about it, son, and I’m here to defend this base like you are. When the shooting starts I need to be down on the bay floor. How do I get there?”

“Right behind you, sir, but when the door closes you can’t get back inside.”

The seam ran near his left shoulder, so narrow he’d missed it, and there was a small finger latch for opening the door.

“Anything else I should know?”

“It’s a spiral staircase down to the floor. The commander knows you’re here, and says to stay close to a wall until the targets are identified. He’s not happy with you, sir.”

“Neither am I, son, but it’s my fight too.”

The kid gave him a faint smile and turned back to the console. Nothing unusual happened for the next few minutes except that four men set up a row of posts near the end of the bay and hung a light canvas between them. When they were finished, Alan Nutt came out again to inspect it, then exited. One part of the bay was now screened off from the other, and the reason was obvious a few minutes later. Dozens of armed marines came out of the door Alan had exited by. They pressed themselves back against the walls, two men deep, each holding stubby weapons with long magazines and wearing goggles making them look like two-legged insects.

The bay was still, and quiet. Nothing moved. The kid who had spoken to Eric now glanced at him, and Eric saw fear there. He’d seen the look before on a kid making his first combat jump, a kid who was dead before he hit the ground.

Eric counted just less than twenty minutes until a red light blinked on the control console, and there were soft murmurings by the operators there. Other lights flickered, and the bright overhead lights of the bay dimmed to near darkness. The shimmering red wall flashed to a rippling blue and was quickly an inky void on the other side of the bay. Streamers of deep blue remained, flickering in and out. The men who came out of the darkness appeared suddenly, men in khaki overalls and lowered faceplates, and they guided powered forklifts laden with crates. Supply delivery, thought Eric. What’s so dangerous about this?

The answer was not long in coming.

A steady stream of forklifts came out of the darkness without incident, deposited their cargo by a wall and turned to go back to the portal. At that moment three more forklifts appeared, and the bay was plunged into chaos. An alarm sounded with ear-splitting intensity and red lights strobed from the walls. The three forklifts moved left and right, mixing in with the earlier machines now trying to return to the portal. Behind them came three more, this time accompanied by dozens of armed men in marine uniforms. The men opened fire with automatic weapons and sprayed the entire area with bullets.

Eric gasped at the sight of gunfire being returned out of clear air from the walls around the bay, and then the marines behind the screen charged in, firing as they came.

Eric saw Alan Nutt come in behind them. He grabbed the latch of the door, slammed it open to the rattle of continuous gunfire, and hurried down a steep, metal staircase to the bay floor.

Deep in the bowels of the ministry building, the portal rippled in shades of blue. The assembly floor was packed solid with hydraulic lifters bearing crates, and Kroic’s heavily armed troops pressed in tightly behind them. Their faceplates were down, hiding the ridiculous masks they’d used to disguise their true faces from both friend and foe. The odors of their bodies remained mercifully close to the assembly floor.

On a balcony two meters above the portal floor Dario Watt stood with his four lieutenants and the two portal operators he had heavily bribed for the operation. According to Watt’s plan, the lifetimes of the bribed ones were now less than a day. There would be no witnesses to show ministry involvement in an operation to be seen as instigated by an unfriendly government and carried out by Kroic and his mercenary soldiers.

Three of Watt’s co-conspirators looked frightened to death, but Elias Trent seemed calm, even stoic, now that the hour had come. Perhaps Watt had underestimated the metal in the man. He had given all of them communicators, but only for listening. The power to command was his alone.

“One minute to initiation,” Watt said softly. A portal operator nodded, one hand reaching towards the console.

“We’re ready,” said the gravelly voice of Ustiss Kroic.

Watt looked, but didn’t find him in the crowd below. Dressed like the others, Kroic had the only detonation transmitter on his person, could set the timing in an instant, but only one time. This he would do when the American portal bay had been penetrated, and only then would he withdraw his forces.

The portal strobed red, and was blue again. Contact had been made, could not be interrupted at the receiving end. They were now committed.

“Go,” said Watt.

The lifters and their operators went in first, then the three devices and a platoon of support troops, Kroic himself somewhere among them. At the rear of the assembly, twenty soldiers activated cloaking and disappeared from view, their exit only shown by transient ripples in the portal’s surface. Communication was instantaneous. In high order n-space, the speed of light was astronomically high, and there were no time delays.

“Receiving fire! Cloaked defenders!” shouted Kroic.

“Press on, Commander,” said Watt encouragingly.

There was a delay of a minute. Watt glanced at his colleagues. All four looked stricken.

“Heavy fire! A marine unit is here! One device is in place. I’m setting the timer for ten minutes. Pulling out in five. Acknowledge!”

“Acknowledge,” said Watt, and looked at his watch.

One minute went by, then two, three, four and five.

Watt reached out to the console, and slapped his hand hard on it, palm down.

The portal operator jumped back in horror.

The portal rippled, went to red, then blue again, and was gone.

There was a horrible silence. Watt’s colleagues, the portal techs, nobody dared to speak.

Watt smiled. “Now we wait—around five minutes. And then we check to see if the American’s portal address is still operable.” He turned and saw his colleagues, including Trent, edging away as if they were ready to run. “Only then do we leave, gentlemen. Stay where you are,” he growled.

The men stopped moving, and stared at him.

They waited a full seven minutes, and then Watt turned to the frightened young tech standing next to him. “Reactivate the portal.”

The tech took a step forward, was not yet in reach of the console when the portal opened up with a flash of red and blue.

A lifter came out of the portal, bearing a single crate.

At first sight of the crate, Watt glanced back at his colleagues in shock and surprise.

His colleagues were not there.

He looked back; saw two men pushing the lifter.

Heat seared Watt’s forehead when he recognized one of them.