The Ajax Protocol

CHAPTER 62

They'd made it to Aspen and up into the mountains in record time, but it was still past midnight by the time they reached the cabin. The moon cast enough light to see the building in the dark shadows of the trees. A thin, damp mist rose from the forest floor. Nick studied the scene through his binoculars. His breath made little clouds of condensation in the night air. At this altitude, the temperatures dropped fast after dark.

They lay under tall evergreens on sloping ground, less than a hundred feet away from Westlake's mountain retreat. Selena was on Nick's right, Ronnie on his left. The cabin had a wide, covered porch. Light shone through a window in the front. Smoke from the chimney gave the night a pleasant, familiar scent. Nick had always loved the smell of wood burning in a fireplace. It reminded him of his place in California, before it had burned to the ground.

Maybe I should rebuild it.

The thought annoyed him. He pushed it away.

"I don't see anyone," Nick said. He handed the binoculars to Ronnie.

"Not a good angle to see in," Ronnie said. "We need to get closer."

He pressed a button on his wristwatch. A faint glow illuminated the dial. It was a little before two in the morning.

"Maybe he's asleep," Ronnie said.

"Not likely, with that light on." Selena scratched her nose.

"Watch out for trip wires," Nick said. "He may have set something, just in case."

They got up and moved toward the cabin in a crouch until they reached level ground. Silent as the moonlight, they stepped onto the porch. Nick held up his hand. From where he was, he could see through the window.

A cheerful fire burned in a stone fireplace. There was a leather arm chair and a rocker on either side of a circular rug laid down on the floor in front of the fire. Nick could see the kitchen area and a wooden dining table and four chairs. It looked like a scene painted by Norman Rockwell. He half expected a kindly old lady with spectacles and a gingham dress to come into the room, carrying a steaming apple pie.

There was another room in the back. Westlake came out of it and walked across the room. He was halfway across when the porch window shattered and the sound of a high powered rifle echoed hard and flat through the trees. Westlake dove for the floor.

"What the hell," Ronnie said

They scrambled off the porch and ran for the trees. Three more shots came out of the darkness. Ronnie stumbled and went down. Nick and Selena made it to the trees,

"Ronnie," Nick called. "How bad?"

There was no answer. Ronnie lay without moving.

Nick said, "We have to get the shooter."

"Who is it?" Selena said. "A sentry?"

"I don't think so. That first shot was aimed at Westlake."

"I saw muzzle flashes over there." She pointed at a tight packed cluster of trees.

"Lay down fire. I'll flank them. Ready?"

She nodded.

"Now."

Selena opened up with her MP-5 on full auto, spraying quick bursts at the trees where she'd seen the flashes of a rifle. Nick got to his feet and ran to his left. Selena could see dark bits and branches flying off the trees as she raked the stand. She used up the magazine, ejected, rammed in another, fired again.

Whoever was in the trees let loose a volley. She could see the flashes in the dark. Bullets whined off the ground near her. She tried to press herself into the earth. She heard Nick's MP-5. Then the night was still.

"Clear," Nick called.

The man he'd shot lay on his back. He was dressed in green and black camouflage. A scoped assault rifle lay beside him on the ground. Blood ran from his mouth. He coughed, said something. Nick bent down to hear.

"Kill him," the man said. "You will…rewarded." He choked. Blood bubbled out of his mouth. He died.

Selena got up and ran over to Ronnie. He stirred as she got to him. She helped him sit up. "Come on. We're exposed." She cast a nervous look at the building. The lights were still out. They moved to the side of the cabin. There was only a small bathroom window there, high up. They stopped behind a large rock outcrop. It gave good cover.

Ronnie had a deep gash on his forehead. Selena could see a lump forming. When he'd gone down, he'd hit his head on a rock.

"Stupid," he said. "Tripped and knocked myself out." he said. He felt his head. His hand came away bloody.

"Probably a good thing," she said. "We thought you took a hit. The shooter must have thought the same thing."

Nick came over to them, crouched low. "There was only one shooter," he said. "He said something odd before he died."

"What?" Selena asked.

"He said, kill him. He meant Westlake. Then he said I'd be rewarded. At least I think that's what he meant. "

"That is odd," Selena said.

Nick turned to Ronnie. "How are you, amigo?"

"Just a bad headache. I'm all right."

"What now?" Selena asked. "After that, Westlake knows we're here."

"That's for sure," Nick said. "Maybe we can reason with him."

"He's a psycho, Nick. How are you going to reason with him?" Ronnie rubbed his forehead.

"We won't know unless we try. If we go through that door, he'll launch."

"You expect him to open the door and invite us in?"

"Let's find out."

Nick stood up. It was a safe bet. The bath room window was frosted glass and closed. He couldn't be seen from the cabin.

"General Westlake," Nick called. "Let's talk."

There was no answer.

"Appeal to his vanity," Selena said. "Make him feel important."

Nick thought for a moment.

"Sir, this is a historic moment," he called. "The fate of the world is in your hands. Generations to come will want to know what you were thinking tonight."

Ronnie pointed his finger at his throat and pantomimed gagging.

They heard the sound of a door opening. "Is that you, Carter?" Westlake's voice came from the darkened cabin. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy, sir. You covered your trail well."

Ronnie rolled his eyes.

"I know you want to stop me, Carter. But you can't. You want to talk, come out where I can see you, in front of the cabin. Leave your weapon. The satellite is overhead. I have a dead man's switch in my hand that keys the transmitter. If you shoot me, the missiles will launch. There's nothing you can do about it."

Nick kept his voice low. "Ronnie, are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"Selena, there has to be a back door. You and Ronnie go in. Be quiet. Disable that transmitter. I'll keep him busy."

"What about that switch?" Selena said.

"I'll figure something out. Try not to let him know you're there."

"I'm waiting, Carter." Westlake's voice had an odd lilt to it, as if he were amused about something. His voice sounded a little slurred.

"Yes, sir," Nick called. "I'm putting down my weapon. I'm coming out."

"Nick, he could shoot you," Selena said.

"His ego won't let him, at least not right away. Go."

They got up and faded into the dark. Nick stood up, raised his hands and walked out in front of the cabin. Westlake stood on the porch, pointing a Colt .45 at Nick with his right hand. His left hand was clenched around a silver cylinder. His thumb was pressed down on the top.

Dead man's switch.

"That was clever of you, Carter, escaping back in Denver."

"Thank you, sir." Careful. Don't overdo it.

"I know what you're doing. Flattery isn't going to make me change my mind."

"I wouldn't dream of it, General."

"Was that you that shot at me?"

"No, sir. It was someone waiting in the trees."

"You eliminated him?"

"Yes, sir."

"My former colleagues are unhappy with me," Westlake said. "They probably sent him. Too bad they won't have any time to reflect on their mistake."

I don't like the sound of that, Nick thought. He moved closer. The muzzle of the .45 was pointed straight at him. Nick had never noticed how large a Model 1911 looked from the wrong end.

"That's far enough, Carter." Nick stopped moving and kept his hands where Westlake could see them.

"Why are you doing this, General? If you launch those missiles, millions of people will die. You'll be vilified as a mass murderer."

Where are Selena and Ronnie? Nick thought.

Now that he was closer, Nick could see that Westlake was unstable. The shrink would have a word for it, Nick thought. Whatever it is, it's not good.

Westlake was unshaven. He had the hand with the switch pressed against his chest, as if he needed to hold it steady. His cheek twitched. The hand with the gun trembled. It was almost imperceptible. It wasn't enough to spoil his aim. His eyes had a strange gleam, an unnatural wetness.

A voice in his mind said He's going to do it.

Up until that moment, he'd held out the hope that Westlake could be made to change his mind. Looking at him, Nick knew it wasn't going to happen. Westlake already had the look of a walking dead man, someone who had nothing left to lose.

Keep him talking, the voice in his head said. "Why did you start all this?" Nick said.

"You really have to ask? The world thinks we're a laughing stock. Congress is a collection of self-serving fools who can't see past the next election and the money they need to keep their job. We've gotten weak. America needs a strong leader, someone who backs up policy with action, someone who won't tolerate dissent."

"It's a democracy, General. Dissent is part of how we got to be a nation."

"We're not a democracy, Carter. We never were. We're a republic, like Rome once was. In more ways than one. Like Rome, the system has become corrupted, dysfunctional. It must be transformed. Prometheus is the instrument of transformation."

He's completely nuts, Nick thought.

Behind Westlake, Nick saw Selena. She moved with a graceful slowness, like a cat pacing toward a mouse, one step at a time. If she could clamp down on the switch before he knew she was there, maybe they could stop this. Maybe Ronnie could shut down the transmitter before Westlake released the switch.

Maybe.

Ronnie stood in the doorway of the back bedroom. He saw the computer and transmitter on a table next to the back wall. The radio was about the size of a desk top printer. It was painted olive drab. The face bristled with black knobs and white calibrating marks. There was a rectangular window in the center with a digital readout. The readout glowed in the darkened room with black numbers dialed to Armageddon against an orange background. A black cable ran from the back of the radio and up through the ceiling.

Must be the antenna, he thought.

All he had to do was turn it off. Or disconnect the antenna. Ronnie went into the room. He couldn't see how to shut the radio down. There were a lot of switches and no time to figure it out. He looked for a plug. The unit was hardwired into the wall.

A black coaxial cable for the antenna ended at a screw-on connection on the back of the transmitter. Something had been gnawing on the cable. Bare copper and torn white insulation showed through the black sheathing. Mice have been at this, Ronnie thought. He reached down and tried to unscrew the antenna connection. It was tight. He felt it begin to turn.

Out front, Nick saw Selena move. Westlake sensed her step. He smiled at Nick.

"Don't do it!" Nick shouted.

Westlake took his thumb off the switch.

Ronnie pulled the cable away as the knurled fitting of the antenna came free. A bright arc of electricity jumped from the transmitter to the cable and crackled around the spots where the insulation was eaten through. It felt like grabbing a hot poker. Blue, electric light danced over the transmitter and around Ronnie's hand as he grasped the cable. His muscles spasmed and he went down on the floor. Flame started where the antenna cable was fastened to the wall.

Unaware of what was happening in the cabin, Westlake laughed. It had the sound of insanity in it. "Too late, Carter."

Selena brought the edge of her palm down hard down on Westlake's collar bone. He dropped the switch. The big .45 went off. The slug slammed Nick in his armor and knocked him down. Selena hit Westlake in the neck with a vicious swipe of her elbow. He crumpled to the porch. She kicked him in the head, kicked the Colt off the porch and ran to Nick, gasping on his back.

"Nick."

"S'all right." He struggled for breath. "Good armor."

"Nick, he used the switch."

"I know."

Nick's breath was coming back. Getting hit by a .45 was a new experience. The front of his armor was flattened, the plate dented.

Nick sat up. "Where's Ronnie?"

"Inside."

Selena helped him to his feet. Westlake lay unconscious.

"You kill him?" Nick asked.

"No. We'll let someone else do that."

"We were too late," Nick said. "Selena, damn it, we were too late." His voice was resigned.

"I smell smoke," she said. As she said it, a cloud of black smoke roiled out of the open front door. Nick got to his feet. It was hard to breathe. He felt like he'd been kicked by a mule. They looked at each other. Ronnie hadn't come out of the cabin.

They ran inside. Flickering, orange light lit the back room. Smoke poured through the doorway. Inside the room, Ronnie lay on the floor, dazed by the electric shock. The room was burning. Flames clawed at the wooden ceiling.

Nick coughed, every cough a stab of pain from his injured ribs. His eyes stung from the acrid smoke. They dragged Ronnie out of the room and outside. They kept going until they were away from the cabin.

The fire spread through the building. Westlake still lay on the wooden porch. The flames reached the front room and pushed out through the broken window. A red spot appeared on the roof as the fire broke through. Even though they were many yards away the heat felt intense, like standing near a blast furnace.

"Westlake," Selena said. "We should get him."

She started toward the cabin. Nick grasped her arm and held her back. "Too late," he said.

The fire roared over the porch. General Westlake stirred. His clothes smoldered and burst into flame. He screamed, a horrible sound, unlike anything Nick had ever heard. He knew it would echo in his mind for the rest of his life.

Westlake got to his hands and knees and tried to stand, surrounded by flames. Then he fell back on the burning planks and stopped moving. The dry wood of the porch turned into an inferno. A faint odor of roasting flesh mixed with the smell of the fire.

"Jesus," Nick said.

Ronnie was conscious. "Burned my hand," he said. A vivid, red wound crossed his palm where he'd grasped the antenna cable.

"I'd better call Harker and tell her we couldn't stop him," Nick said.

He punched in her code. She answered on the first ring.

"Yes, Nick."

"Director, Westlake is dead but he fired those missiles."

"What do you mean? Everyone has been monitoring Prometheus. There hasn't been any change. The Pentagon can read system status, but they still can't get control. It's just sitting up there in orbit."

"But Westlake pushed the button. I saw him do it. The bastard was smiling."

"Then the signal didn't go through. The missiles didn't launch."

"Harker says the missiles didn't launch," Nick said to the others.

"Mice," Ronnie said.

"What?"

"Mice. Mice chewed up the antenna."

"Mice? The world got saved by mice?"

Ronnie coughed and nodded.

"Kind of puts things in perspective, doesn't it?" Selena said.

"I'll never set a mousetrap again," Nick said.