A New World: Reckoning (24 page)

I gently ease the door closed behind me. The sensor on the door will move the magnet I placed out of the way while keeping the circuit closed. The magnet is likely to stay attached to the door or metal frame. It won’t fall off so it shouldn’t be noticed by anyone unless they happen to look very closely.

With the faint click of the latch, the outside world is shut off, at least from my mental perspective. Crouching with the door at my back, I let out a sigh. I wasn’t sure that I would have been able to make it this far. Now that I’m inside, I know that each step will take me closer to a point of no return. I pretty much came to that point when I jumped out of the 130, but now each step takes me closer to situations where I could be caught.

Ahead, concrete stairs descend to a small landing before continuing down to the right. Concrete-poured walls rise to either side, joining with a slab overhead. Except for a faint glow of light emanating from somewhere down the steps, it’s dark. I look to the top of the door searching for a camera but don’t find one. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about night runners here, but I open up just in case. There aren’t any around that I can sense. I take a few moments to calm my rapidly beating heart. I forgot just how much I hate being inside of buildings.

Looking at my watch, I note that I have plenty of time before the dark of the night ends. I still have a ways to go, along with the probability that there are more difficult security measures to beat. A few deep breaths bring my heart rate down but the underlying anxiety remains.

Rising, I test my pack and gear to ensure that there isn’t any sound that issues forth from movement. With my carbine held at the ready and hugging the wall, I begin descending the steps. Near the first landing, I place my mirror at the corner and look around.

The stairs continue down to intersect the end of a hall where a very faint amount of light is being cast from some source farther along the corridor. Close to the ceiling, on the near side, large conduits are anchored to the slabs of concrete overhead. At my end of the hall, the conduits continue through the wall. Step by step, I start down, my senses tuned for any sound, for the movement of a shadow showing in the faint light.

The stairs and hall have the musty scent of not having been used in a long time. It also has the distinct smell that all concrete rooms and stairwells seem to possess. Although the air is chilly, the stairs and hall are dry and I feel a hint of warmth. At the bottom of the stairs, I look around the corner once again using the signal mirror.

At the far end of the hall, about thirty yards away, there’s another steel door with a keypad next to it. In the corner on the far side of the door, twin floodlights cast a brilliant light down the hall that reaches almost to the stairwell. I see another stationary camera positioned above the door. The conduits, which are almost directly overhead, continue down the length of the hallway and through the far wall. At intervals, steel rods hang down from the ceiling to hold brackets that are supporting the steel pipes.

Three of the conduits are large ones placed side-by-side with others running between or on top. Several smaller ones are held by brackets as they run along the wall. I look for placards that might indicate what they are being used for but don’t see any from my vantage point. I guess I’ll just have to take the risk that none are being used for hazmat waste or radiated water. It would make it a little difficult to hide if I glowed in the dark.

The pipes themselves look in good shape, and I don’t see any leaks dripping from seams or attachment points. The brackets also look to be in good condition. Backing away from the corner, I extend the ladder from one of the steps to the conduits. In my youth, this wouldn’t have been much of a problem, however, it’s all I can do just to keep the ladder steady as it wants to roll to the side. Scaling it, which is much like trying to make it across a rope bridge, I manage to get to the pipes without bringing them down or tumbling into the hall.

Slowly easing onto the pipes, I test to see if they’ll support my weight. There is only a faint creak as I lie across the rounded surfaces. From this vantage point, I’ll be out of view from the camera over the door. For that matter, I’ll be out of sight from anyone or anything below provided they don’t look very closely through the small gaps. Resting for just a moment, I remove my handgun and screw on the suppressor, replacing it in the holster designed to carry it with the suppressor attached.

I begin inching along the conduits. I have to move slowly so I don’t create any movement which will be picked up by the camera. There’s also dust on the very tops which I have to be careful that I don’t send down through the cracks. With the flood lights, I can be pretty sure that the camera is capturing video in the visible spectrum with maybe a thermal overlay. Any sway of the pipes or dust falling down from them will be noticed.

Reaching the first bracket with the steel rod attaching it to the ceiling, I maneuver around it, keeping to the wall side. I am placing my pack ahead of me with each movement similar to the way I traversed the field. My M-4 is secured to my back. If I need a weapon, which will be a short-lived time, I’ll use the handgun strapped to my leg.

I slowly make my way toward the door. It’s not too far to crawl, but it still takes a bit of time. I feel the dust in my nose and keep having to wipe it to prevent a sneeze. The inside of my mouth feels chalky with the grit and it’s annoying to say the least. The anxiety within grows as I draw closer, expecting the door to open at any moment. Not that they could see me, but it opening will mean that my entrance has been noticed.

Reaching the wall, I rest for a moment. The nervousness and effort of crawling has taken a little out of me. I’ve come to the next phase of infiltrating the bunker. I just have to get by the security door and then I’ll be in the main facility.

The camera is just to the side of me. I’ll have to lean out over the pipes in order to reach it, but it shouldn’t prove to be more of a challenge than the one outside. Readying another switch and recorder, I stretch out and place them on the wall as before. I have to take care that I don’t cast a shadow from the lights either across the lens or on the floor below.

While readying the equipment, I keep an eye on the top of the door just scant inches below. If someone were to walk through, I’d be readily visible and in a precarious position. My only hope in that case would be to drop down, draw my handgun, and begin firing. I may or may not get them; but in any case, my sojourn, and our plan, would come to a quick end.

I make the switch with the cables and pull back to the top of the conduits. I check that I’m not casting a shadow against the wall and wait knowing that there’s a greater chance that a reaction team will respond to this latest glitch. They might have overlooked one from the outside, but there’s no way—providing it was seen—that they’ll ignore a second one from a different camera. The switch, sniffer, and recorder are well camouflaged behind the camera and look like part of the system, at least to the casual observer.

Due to the thick walls and door, my only warning is the sound of the latch clicking. The hinges creak as the door swings open. Pressed flat on my stomach with my head turned to the side, I hold my breath and mentally wedge tighter between two of the large conduits, hoping to hell that my shirt tail isn’t hanging down between them. I imagine feeling the tug and ‘Hey, what do we have here? You okay up there, buddy?’ I told you my mind goes into strange places at the oddest of times.

With the opening of the door, voices in mid-conversation carry loud and clear just a foot and a half below.

“…told him the system was buggy but he said, ‘Just go check it out. It’s not like you have anything else to do.’ You know how Walsh is,” one voice states.

“I know, I know. But it isn’t like there is really anything for us to do,” a second voice says.

“Okay, Walsh, we’re here. What do you want us to do?” the first voice says.

“I can see you,” I hear a voice that sounds like it’s coming over a radio. “Do you see anything?”

“That depends on what I’m supposed to be looking for. There’s just a bunch of wires,” the first voice replies.

“Okay, it looks like it’s working. Go check the outside one,” the radio voice says.

“Really? Come on Walsh.”

“Just go check it out.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll go smile pretty for you.”

“You know this is because I cleaned him out last time. He still owes me so he’s…”

Oh fuck, the camera. If they go check out the camera, there isn’t going to be any pretty smile for Walsh
, I think, feeling things start to go sideways.

The group heads down the hall toward the stairs and outer door, the boots heavy on the concrete. It sounds like there may be five or six of them, but I don’t dare lift my head or risk the mirror to find out. The conversation fades and dies out as they turn the corner and enter the stairwell. Once they are out of sight, I reach over and unplug the cable to the camera and quickly replace it, hopefully causing a glitch in the system that the reaction team will respond to before making it outside. Taking some electrical tape, I quickly cover the small screen of the recorder and fold back into my position waiting for them to return.

The sound of footsteps in the hall is there before I know it. They aren’t running steps, so I don’t feel that they are alerted but I remain tense. There’s the chance that they will still head outside and check on it. I can’t keep pulling the wire; that was a one-attempt-and-done kind of maneuver; unless I want to see what the afterlife is like, and I’m not all that eager to find out right now.

“Okay, Walsh, we’re here. What do you want?” a voice says as the footsteps halt almost directly below me.

“The camera flickered again. What do you see?”

“I see the same damn thing that I saw a minute ago.”

“Okay, well, it’s still working. I’ll just write it up,” the radio voice says.

“Do you want us to still check the outside one?”

“No, come on back. It’s obvious we’re having the same problem that we had on the east wing last week.”

“Okay, we’re on our way back.”

“You had better hope that the cards haven’t been moved or that you peeked,” the leader’s voice says, now directed at one of his teammates.

There’s a beeping sound as one of the people a foot below slides a keycard across the keypad, followed by a loud click as the magnetic lock releases.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Bullshit! I know you better than that you—”

The voices are cut off as the door closes and the lock engages.

I take my first deep breath. It’s not that I was holding it in but I was taking very shallow breaths to minimize any sound. My racing heart begins to subside after a moment, helped by the deep inhalations.

That was fucking close
, I think, giving them some time to make sure that they don’t come back suddenly, one of them having discovered that they dropped their favorite good luck charm. I roll over and remove the tape. I then proceed to set up the recorder and have it run on a looped playback.

Satisfied that no one dropped their lucky charm, I remove several items from my pack, don it, and drop to the floor next to the wall. The lights are angled so that I’ll be fine with my shadow if I stay near the door and wall. I lean the ladder against the conduit and mentally place its position in my mind so I don’t accidentally bump it and tip it over. Overlooking small details like that have been known to ruin many a day.

The door on the bottom is sealed too tightly, so I don’t bother trying to put a fiber cam under it. It’s apparent that there is a reaction team that will respond and I’ll have to work quickly. And, although not alarmed, the security room personnel will now be more watchful. I remove a two-inch strip of magnesium and place it between the door and the jamb where the magnetic lock is.

Looking between the gap, I don’t see any magnetic sensors. The mag lock itself will notify anyone that the door has been opened, but there’s no way to avoid it if I want to get through. Digging into my fatigue pocket, I take out a flame torch. This is different than a lighter as the flame is barely visible and doesn’t cast any light. If I used a regular lighter or a match, the flare might cast a higher level of light and be seen in the camera. Lighting the magnesium strip, I place a ceramic coffee cup over it to cover the flare of light caused by the intense heat. If this were an inward opening door, the flare would be seen from the inside but the door stop prevents any light from leaking to the other side.

The strip burns quickly and I remove the cup stashing it in a pocket along with the lighter. The door still has some resistance but I yank it open and, grabbing the ladder, slide through. Quickly placing the ladder against the conduit on the other side, I take a rag sprayed with a diluted lemon juice mixture and wipe the walls, door jamb, lock mechanism, and door, to remove any char marks that the magnesium made. I then close the door and scale the ladder quickly, pulling it up with me. Taking a small spray bottle with diluted lemon-scented room deodorizer, I give a light spray like I was Febrezing the living room to remove any lingering burn smell.

I know it won’t be long until the reaction team shows up and I push myself a few yards down the conduits before coming to a stop. Almost level with me, florescent light fixtures hang from the concrete ceiling and extend down the inner hall. This hallway is long, being made to provide an escape tunnel that exits far away from the main facility, and the lights extend beyond my line of sight. Although they illuminate their immediate vicinity, they are spaced far enough apart that the corridor is cast in an overall gloom. I look to the top of the door I just entered and verify there isn’t a camera placed there. If I can manage to elude the guards who are surely going to show up, I will be inside the main facility. Not close to being where I need to go, but at least inside.