Diablo Mesa(94)

“Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re going to come back for you,” Corrie said again. “Just stay cool.”

As they moved back to the lobby and then turned left beyond the doors, Corrie quickly sensed they were entering a more populated section of the facility. At several moments they had to duck into storerooms or abandoned labs to avoid soldiers. Another time, an electric vehicle—an armored, open-topped jeep—could be seen passing down the hallway.

“Let’s commandeer one of those,” said Skip. “Shoot the fuckers right out of the saddle and take it.”

“You may not have noticed,” said Corrie, “but they’ve got bulletproof glass and panels. You’re not going to shoot out anyone driving one of those.”

“Then we steal one from this motor pool.”

They followed faint rubber tire tracks now visible on the cement floor, confident these would lead to the motor pool. As they crept farther down the endless hallway, Corrie heard voices and activity. Ahead, they could see the corridor open into a large space, a ramp leading up one side to a tall set of steel doors. As Corrie watched, they opened, folding fanlike back on themselves with a quiet rumble.

They ducked through the last door of the corridor, into what appeared to be a mothballed medical lab, but not before Corrie got a better glimpse of the cavernous room that lay ahead. There were a variety of parked vehicles, patrolled by guards who looked a lot more alert than the sad sack in the server room. There was also, as Toth had mentioned, a helicopter, sitting silent and dark on a steel pad. The ramp on the far side, she guessed, must lead up to the portal they’d seen hidden in the side of a small hill. Clearly it was a way out.

“I see only two guards,” said Watts. “We can take those bastards.”

“There could be more on the far side,” Corrie said. “That’s a big space.”

“Shit,” Watts muttered.

Skip hesitated. “You’re a much better shot than me,” he told Watts. “Maybe we should exchange weapons. This one’s got a full sixteen rounds.”

Watts frowned. “This Peacemaker was my granddad’s.” He took the revolver out and hefted it. “It kicks like a mule and it’s hard to aim.”

“Look, I can’t shoot worth shit anyway. If it makes a big noise, that’s all that matters. You’ve got five times the number of rounds in that Glock—and you’re probably going to need them all.”

Watts handed Skip the Peacemaker and accepted the Glock, which he tucked in his belt. “I wish to hell we could somehow shift the odds in our favor.”

Corrie looked around. The medical lab they were in had obviously not been used in some time. Shelves of bottles and containers lined the walls. An old black soapstone table ran down the far wall, flanked by fume hoods. It was like the rest of the base: clean and orderly but fallen into disuse.

In the dim light, she crept over and began examining the bottles, squinting at the labels.

“What are you looking for?” Watts asked.

“This.” She plucked a large bottle off a shelf. “What you find in every lab in the country. Ethanol.”

Skip suddenly grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about. Who’s got a lighter?”

Watts removed one from his pocket and tossed it to Skip.

They quickly collected a half dozen smaller bottles with narrow mouths, emptied their contents, and refilled them with ethanol, stuffing wadded gauze into the necks. As they worked quickly and silently, the keen smell of pure grain alcohol filled the room.

“Skip, you’ll be the Molotov cocktail guy,” said Corrie. “Create maximum surprise and confusion. Hit the chopper if possible so it can’t follow us once we escape. Shoot off that big old hogleg now and then to put the fear of God into everyone. The sheriff and I will go in blazing on either flank.”

“Go in blazing,” repeated Watts. “Still suicide. Only maybe not quite as certain.”





62



RUSH STEPPED OUT of the viewing alcove. “Come with me.”

Nora and Tappan rose to follow.

He halted some distance from the craft, turned, and folded one arm over the other, clearly waiting for an answer.

There was a brief, awkward silence.

“Colonel,” Tappan said, “you’re a convincing recruiter. No doubt you’ve performed that little dog-and-pony show before. I could probably use you in the HR department of Icarus Space Systems. But how do I—” and at this, he stepped closer to Nora— “how do we know you aren’t just milking us for information, to be shot and discarded when you’ve wrung us dry?”

Nora was glad Tappan had moved close to her. The fact that Atropos knew of their relationship—not surprising, in retrospect—meant that to ensure the cooperation of one, Atropos would have to spare both. Even so, she wondered if Tappan was laying it on a little thick. It crossed her mind that she still didn’t know what he was really thinking—if he was being sincere, or if he was going along with her scheme. Truth was, she didn’t know him all that well, despite their connection.

“Colonel Rush,” Nora said, “you tell us you’ve kept nothing back. Well, I’ll be equally blunt. Did you blow up the camp?”