Zero Day (John Puller, #1)(113)

Puller slipped the paper he’d taken from the firehouse out of his pocket. A fire plan. The numbers 92 and 94 written into the margins.

“So did you figure out what those numbers mean?” Cole asked.

“Maybe.”

“What then?”

If it was referring to what he thought it was, this case was about to take on an entirely new and potentially catastrophic angle.

“I’ll tell you when I’m sure.”

“Why not now? You’ve been speculating to me before.”

“Not like this. I want to be sure. I don’t want to cause a panic if it turns out I’m wrong.”

She licked her lips. “I’m already panicked, Puller. I mean, pipeline, nuke reactor. How much worse could it get?”

“It could get a lot worse.”

“Okay, you officially panicked me right past my maximum level.”

He knelt in the woods, listened to the sounds of the wildlife passing close to him. Dawn was breaking. He heard a rattle from a nearby snake. He knew there were copperheads in here as well. The swamps in Florida had been filled with aggressive water moccasins. During the last stage of Ranger training some injuries came from snakebites. Some of his fellow Rangers had been afraid of snakes, but they could never show that fear. One had almost died from a deadly bite from a coral snake, but he’d recovered. Only to die four years later in Afghanistan when an IED had exploded under his feet.

Snakebites were bad. IEDs were worse.

Puller listened, considered their options. His deliberations went fast. He didn’t have many. He approached the concrete wall from the back side. He pushed through the thick vines and forest tendrils covering its surface. He touched the rough hide of the thing.

“You sure your dad said this was three feet thick?”

“Yes. He watched them do it.”

On a structure this big that would have been an ocean of cement. Only the Feds could have done something like this. It was like building the Hoover Dam in a way.

And for what?

“We have to get inside this sucker,” he said.

“Okay, how?”

He touched the smooth surface. Concrete, unlike wood, became weaker over time, especially in elements like these. But three feet allowed a big margin of error for degradation of the material. He stared up the side; it rose nearly ten stories into the air. A few trees were taller than it, but not many. He could climb some of the vines to the very top, but then what?

Three feet. He couldn’t hack through that. At least not without people knowing about it. He’d need a jackhammer plus dynamite. He looked down, where the concrete met the dirt. Burrow underneath?

He pulled out a collapsible spade from his knapsack and began to dig. Two feet in he struck something. He removed some more dirt and hit the hole with his light.

“Looks like iron,” said Cole.

“Yeah, it does. Rusted but still intact.”

He wondered how far out from the perimeter it went. It was probably a good many feet. People who engineered gigantic domes had almost certainly not gone cheap on the other details.

No way under. No way over.

Yet there had to be a way. You didn’t build something like this and not provide a back door just in case something happened and you needed to get back in.

Something hit him. “Let me see the plans again.”

She handed him the packet. He rifled through several pages before he found the one he wanted. He looked at the writing. It was clear. He just hadn’t focused on it before. That was it.

He looked at Cole. “We need your brother.”

“Randy? What does he have to do with this?” She scowled. “You’re not telling me he’s involved in this? First, you think my sister tried to blow you up and—”

He grabbed her arm. “No, I don’t think your brother is involved in this, but I think he can still help. We need to find him.”

CHAPTER

82


THEY CLEANED UP back at Cole’s house and started looking. But finding Randy Cole proved harder than it probably should have in such a small town. Cole exhausted all of her possible places within an hour. She called her sister, but Jean had no idea where he was. They went into the Crib and then scoured the small downtown area, taking it block by block.

Nothing.

“Wait a minute,” Puller finally said.

With Cole in his wake he fast-walked to Annie’s Motel. Puller started kicking open doors. On the fifth Cole looked in the room and said, “Randy?”

Her brother was lying fully clothed on the bed.

Puller and Cole moved inside and Puller shut the door behind him. He flicked the light on.

“Randy? Wake up.”

The man did not move.

Cole drew closer. “Is he okay? Randy?”

“He’s fine. His chest is moving up and down.”

Puller looked around, then said, “Wait a sec.”

Puller grabbed an old bowl off a cracked wooden bureau and went into the bathroom, where Cole could hear water start to run. Puller came back out with a full bowl of water and threw it on Randy’s face.

He shot up and then rolled off the bed. “What the shit!” screamed Randy as he hit the floor.

Puller grabbed him by the back of his shirt, lifted him off the floor, and threw him back on the bed.

As his eyes focused, Randy gazed at Puller and then saw his sister staring at him.