Anvil (14 page)

It had been
dark for close to two hours, but I had no idea what time it was.  I sat
with Rachel near a small camp fire a few dozen yards away from the command
post.  The Russians had withdrawn a few miles and there was the constant
thrum of rotors in the dark sky as both sides patrolled the neutral zone that
had formed between us. 

Irina had
spoken with the Admiral for close to an hour, joining us by the fire as Colonel
Blanchard made several more phone calls.  She didn’t have any idea if the
conversation she’d had with Packard had changed his mind about agreeing to the
terms offered by the Russian president.  Now we sat in silence, eating
some MREs I had scrounged.

“Twenty-one
hours,” Rachel said, breaking the silence.

I didn’t
have a response to that, and didn’t want to spend my last few hours of freedom
thinking about what was in store for me.  Well, thinking about it any more
than I already had.  Though I had never been a guest of the Russians, I’d
read de-briefs of people who had and knew I wasn’t in for a good time. 
Most likely I’d welcome death with open arms once Barinov grew tired of my
presence.

“We need to
talk.”

I looked up,
surprised to see Blanchard standing on the other side of the fire.  I had
been so lost in thought I had failed to notice his approach.  Handing the
rest of my meal to Rachel, I stood and followed him out into the
darkness. 

“What’s going
on?”  I asked.

“It’s been a
busy couple of hours. I spoke with the Petty Officer’s CO.  She’s on a
priority project and he had another of his staff get in to a part of the CIA
system that’s still operating on the Echelon network.  They can’t get into
the area where individual codes are stored.”

“Can’t they
just activate them all?”  I asked, a feeling of defeat coming over me.

“The system
doesn’t work that way.  One at a time, and without the code specific to
her beacon, there’s no way to trigger it.  The database where they are
stored is very heavily encrypted and pretty much impenetrable without the
proper CIA credentials.”

“They can’t
break in?  Come on, they got into the NSA satellites and a few other
things,” I complained.

“They tried,
but the system has safeguards because of concerns over an enemy being able to
do just this and locate an agent.  Three consecutive failed attempts and
it will erase all the data.” 

Fuck me, if
it wasn’t one thing it was another.  I was a little short tempered at the
moment but managed to stop myself from snapping at Blanchard.  He was just
the messenger, not the problem.  Then an idea struck me.

“Can I
borrow your phone?”  I asked.

Blanchard
gave me an odd look, but handed it over without asking why I wanted it.  I
had one phone number memorized and it was the direct line to Jessica’s
desk.  Punching it in, I raised the phone to my ear as it began ringing.

“Lieutenant
Hunt,” a voice answered, surprising me as I was expecting to hear Jessica’s voice.

“Lieutenant,
Major Chase.  I need to speak with Petty Officer Simmons.”

“I’m sorry,
sir.  She is unavailable.  May I be of assistance?”

What the
hell did they have her working on?  Whatever it was must be a pretty big
deal.

“I hope so,”
I said, suppressing my frustration.  “A few days ago she connected me to a
phone in Australia.  I need to be put through to that number again. 
Can you do that?”

“I should be
able to pull it out of the logs,” he said.  “But I need to ask who you’re
calling and why.”

I paused for
a moment, surprised by the response.  Something was up.  Had Jessica
talked to them about my suspicions of a Russian agent?  Or was something
else in play?  Either way, the man was just doing his job and following
protocol, so I told him.  Blanchard’s eyebrows went up as he listened to
my end of the conversation.

“Sir, I’m
connecting the call now,” Hunt said a few minutes later.

“John?” 
Lucas Martin’s voice came over the phone after a series of clicks.

“Lucas, I
need your help again,” I said.

“Didn’t
think you were calling to talk about the weather, mate.  What can I do?”

“The CIA
officer you pulled out of the listening post for me a few days ago.  He
still amongst the living?”

“Aye, he
is.  Stuck him in a deep, dark cell while the bloody politicians figure
out what to do with him.”

“Can you get
to him?”  I asked.

“Maybe. 
Probably.  Why?  Knocking off the tosser while he’s in custody isn’t
a wise career move,” Lucas said with a chuckle.

“Career
move?  You back with the Regiment?”

“I am, much
to my missus displeasure.  But you didn’t call to hear about my domestic
woes.  What do you need from him?”

I explained
in as brief a version as possible what was going on and what I needed from
Steve.  There was silence from the other end for a few moments when I
finished speaking.

“Bloody
hell, mate.  This is a tall order.  If he figures out there’s
something we want from him, and he’s a smart little fuck so he’ll pick up on
that right off, it’s going to be tough to get it out of him.”

“I know you
better than that, Lucas,” I said, remembering some of the things I’d seen him
do in the past.

“Sorry,
mate.  This isn’t the middle of Africa.  He’s in official custody and
it’s going to be hard enough just to get to him.  There’s no way I can
persuade him to cooperate without having something to offer in return. 
Not unless I want to wind up in the cell next to his,” Lucas said, sounding
genuinely sorry.

“What if it
was your wife, Lucas?”

I sincerely
hated playing that card.  It wasn’t fair.  Not even by a long shot.  But
this was the only chance I had to make sure Katie was found.  The odds
were stacked against her ever being anything other than a raging infected, but
if I could at least make sure she had a shot at treatment…

“There’s
more you’re not telling me,” Lucas said after a long silence.

He was
right.  I hadn’t told him anything about the Russian threat to nuke the
last surviving Americans if I didn’t hand myself over.  If I had the
opportunity to search for Katie myself, I wouldn’t put him in the position I
just had. 

“I’m sorry
Lucas,” I said.  “They’ve delivered some non-negotiable terms and I’m
trying like hell to keep Hawaii from being nuked off the face of the Earth.”

“What do you
need from him?”  He asked after a very long pause.

I told him
exactly what was needed and what to do with the information when he had
it.  He still had the direct line to Jessica saved in his phone and I made
sure he also had Colonel Blanchard’s number. 

“I’ll start
working on it right away,” Lucas said after an uncomfortable silence.

“Thank you
for doing this,” I said.

There was a
long pause, then Lucas settled for just saying good bye.

“Good bye,
Lucas,” I said and broke the connection.

I handed the
phone back to Colonel Blanchard who had heard my end of the conversation. 

“Can he pull
it off?”  He asked.

“If anyone
can, he can,” I said.

Turning
away, I walked back to where Rachel and Irina were seated on the ground next to
the fire.  It was snowing again and they had both scooted closer to the
heat.  I sat down between them and filled them in on what was going on.

“Both of you
should go to Australia.  Soon,” I said.  “I’ve got some leverage at
the moment and I’m going to call Admiral Packard and make sure you’ve got
transportation.  A friend of mine named Lucas Martin will take you
in.  He’s on a big spread in South Australia and has plenty of room.”

“I’m not
leaving…” Rachel started to say, but I cut her off with a raised hand.

“There’s
nothing left here for you,” I said, looking at her first before turning my head
to gauge Irina’s reaction.  “The country is lost.  If you evacuate to
Hawaii, you’ll always be living under the threat of a Russian nuke.  For
some reason, Australia has been spared.  That could change tomorrow, but
for now it’s the last safe place on Earth.”

We argued
for several minutes, Rachel raising several different objections.  None of
them swayed my position.  Sure, she could go to Hawaii, but how long
before Barinov decided to eliminate the last vestiges of America?  I was
aware of some of the things he’d done as President and didn’t disagree one bit
with Irina’s assessment. 

Leaving the
warmth of the fire, walking away and ignoring Rachel’s renewed argument, I
found Blanchard and asked for him to put me in touch with Admiral
Packard.  He didn’t ask why, just turned to an aide and nodded. 
Several minutes later the man handed a sat phone to me and I spoke to Packard, explaining
what I wanted.

He
immediately agreed to put the two women on a flight.  I thanked him,
grateful that he hadn’t thanked me for voluntarily surrendering to the
Russians.  I didn’t want his thanks.  I just wanted it to be over
with.

“All
clear?”  Lieutenant Sam asked over the radio.

He was
speaking to the most junior of the SEALs who was sitting in the buildings
security office, monitoring multiple screens which were receiving security
camera feeds from the exterior.  The man double checked everything in
view, switching to several other cameras to perform a final survey of the area.

“Clear. 
Good to go,” he said, continuing to click through the system.

A moment
later four figures stepped through a steel security door.  They
immediately spread into a diamond formation, rifles up and ready as they ran
across a broad, sloping lawn.  It was dark, and a cold, steady rain made
it even darker and masked the sounds of their footfalls on the soggy grass.

At the
bottom of the slope was a long dock with two boats tied to it.  One was
the creaky cruiser that had been taken from the marina near the locks when the
SEALs RIB had been damaged while bringing Dr. Kanger to the facility.  The
other was a sleek, thirty-foot, luxury runabout with inboard engines.  It
had lots of teak and shiny details.  There was a bet amongst the SEALs
that it had belonged to Paul Allen.

They had
performed an exhaustive search of the research institute, failing to find the
keys for it, but hotwiring a boat was all in a day’s work for them. 
Reaching the dock, three of the men remained on it, spread out and keeping
watch.  While they scanned the area with their rifles, Master Chief
Gonzales jumped aboard and set to work.  Two minutes later a starter
whined and the motors rumbled to life.

The three
SEALs on the dock collapsed their formation and stepped onto the boat.  The
last one to board, Lieutenant Sam, released the ropes that held the craft tight
to the shore.  With one foot he reached out and gave a small shove,
pushing the boat a few feet out into the lake. 

The first
two took up station at either corner of the stern, rifles pointing out.  Sam
stretched out on the bow, rifle facing forward.  The Master Chief notched
the throttle forward and steered for open water.

They were
moving north on Lake Union, a small lake surrounded by the urban sprawl of
Seattle.  The area had been lit after the Russians moved in and restored
the power grid.  One of the targets of the Tomahawks fired by the Navy had
been the dams in the mountains that provided hydroelectric power to the
city.  The attacks had been successful, denying the occupying enemy access
to electricity and plunging the city back into darkness.

The SEALs
were equipped with night vision and weren’t hampered by the lack of
light.  They watched as the shoreline slipped by.  Marina after
marina, some almost empty of boats, others with every slip occupied.  A
large community of floating houses appeared on their right.  

The SEAL
responsible for watching that area reported that he could see multiple infected
moving on the docks the houses were moored to.  They were reacting to the
muted sound of the boat’s motors, but were unable to spot the small craft which
was running without lights.

It didn’t
take long to reach the northern end of the lake, which forked like the top of a
Y.  The left would take them back to the locks and Puget Sound.  The
right arm was the one they wanted, the water narrowing into a broad canal as
they turned to the east.  Ahead, Sam could make out the massive double
decked bridge of Interstate 5 that soared nearly two hundred feet above the
surface of the canal.

Approaching
slowly, he called a halt when an object flashed in his night vision goggles,
impacting the water with a loud splash.  Whatever it was had come down
only a few yards to their front.  Boat bobbing in place, he looked up at
the massive steel structure but didn’t see anything or anyone.  He checked
with the two SEALs watching their flanks, both reporting all clear.

Making
another scan of the bridge and shoreline to either side, he still didn’t spot
anything concerning.  Motioning to Gonzales, he adjusted the position of
his rifle against his shoulder as the boat began moving forward again. 
They slowly approached the bridge and Sam frequently looked up to check the
steel trusses far above his head.

They made it
under the bridge without anything else falling into the water.  Another
older and much smaller bridge appeared in Sam’s night vision as they made a
bend to the right.  This was a drawbridge and appeared to have been built
to carry local, neighborhood traffic. 

The canal
narrowed even more.  Dikes had been placed in the channel to direct boat
traffic through a small space directly beneath the portion of the bridge that
would raise to allow tall-masted sail boats and larger ships to pass.

It was only
wide enough for a lane in each direction with low rails on each side. 
Along the rail facing the approaching SEALs, nearly twenty infected males
bumped around trying to locate the source of the sound their motors were
making.  The Master Chief backed off on the throttle without being told,
speaking softly so his radio would let him communicate with the Lieutenant.

“Wanna bet
that’s what that big ass splash was?  One of them fuckers coming off the
bridge?”

“No bet,”
Sam answered.

He was
concerned.  Even though this new bridge was less than fifty feet above the
water, if one or more of the males came over the rail and landed on them it
could seriously damage their boat or even sink it.  He looked over his
shoulder when there was another loud splash from behind.

Night vision
let him see the disturbed water where what he now believed was an infected body
had fallen.  Turning back to the front, he noted that the males were
growing more agitated.  They pushed up against the railing, which was no
more than waist high for most of them.

 
Looking
around and assessing the situation, he wasn’t happy.  They were going to
have to motor under the bridge and hope a two-hundred-pound body didn’t slam
into them or their boat.  They were more than capable of swimming to shore
and completing the mission on foot if the boat sank.  But the more time
they spent on the ground, the greater the chances of running into a large group
of infected.  Or maybe even worse, a Russian patrol.

“Sit tight,”
Sam said quietly, sighting in on a shaggy haired male that was leaning over the
rail and waving his arms.

Even though
his rifle was suppressed, it still made more sound than he liked when he fired
and killed the infected.  Sam methodically worked his way down the row of
infected, taking his time and placing each shot right where he wanted it. 
Every time he pulled the trigger a male fell dead to the steel lattice of the
bridge deck.  When the last one dropped, he kept his rifle aimed at the
railing for several moments before telling Gonzales to get them moving.

The boat
surged forward, the SEAL at the controls giving it more throttle than he had so
far.  He wanted to get them under the bridge as quickly as possible before
more infected arrived.  Sam stayed frozen in place, rifle trained and
ready to fire in the event another male showed itself.  He detected
movement, raising his weapon to a steep angle to keep the muzzle aligned with
the target area.

Another male
appeared and Sam fired instantly, raising up more and shifting left as two more
heads popped up.  He fired, killing the first one, and was shifting to the
second when there was a flash of motion several yards to the side of the
pair.  A sprinting female screamed as she hurdled the rail.

Sam turned
and snapped off two shots, but couldn’t tell if they hit home or not.  The
Master Chief cut the wheel, his quick reaction all that saved them from the
falling body.  As the boat turned, carving into the water, the female missed,
except for her head.  It struck the railing only inches from where Sam
lay. 

Stainless
steel bent and fiberglass splintered from the impact, her skull exploding like
an overripe melon and splashing hot blood and brains into Sam’s face.  Gonzales
whipped the boat back into a straight line, cutting their speed as soon as they
cleared the bridge.  Sam pulled his night vision goggles off, spitting and
cursing.

“You OK, LT?

“Got the
bitch’s blood in my mouth,” Sam spat over the rail.  “Keep going, I’m
fine.”

The Master
Chief gave his boss a look before turning his attention back to driving the
boat.  The channel widened some and ran straight for a short distance
before curving to their left and narrowing to less than a hundred feet. 
Another bridge spanned the perfectly straight canal.  Beyond, the water
opened out into Lake Washington, but he cut their speed to idle when he saw
movement on the bridge.

“What’s
up?”  Sam asked, still rinsing blood off his night vision goggles so he
could see.

“Another
bridge and there’s movement along the rail,” Gonzales said.

“Full
throttle,” Sam ordered.  “You know how hard it is to hit a fast moving
boat.  We’ll be through before they can even come over the rail.”

The Master
Chief shook his head, grinning, and slammed the throttles to the
firewall.  With a bellow of power, the engines spun the propellers up to
full speed and the boat leapt forward.  The other SEALs had to grab on to
anything within reach to keep from being thrown out of the craft by the sudden
surge of acceleration. 

They roared
safely beneath the bridge, Gonzales cutting power as they came out on the far
side.  Sam donned his freshly cleaned goggles and looked behind
them.  There were several large splashes as infected fell into the water
in their attempts to reach the boat.  He exchanged glances with the Master
Chief then nodded, telling him to get them moving again.

Speed had
been their friend to safely pass beneath the bridge, but with speed came
noise.  As they continued to transit the narrow canal, both SEALs who were
watching their flanks reported female infected on the shoreline, following
them.

“Engage
targets,” Sam ordered, knowing the excitement of the females would draw more to
the area.

The two men
started firing, aiming as carefully and accurately as their Lieutenant had when
he cleared the bridge railing.  By the time they reached the area where
the lake opened out, both were reporting that all targets were down. 

The boat
made a sharp left, heading north and hugging the shoreline of a small
island.  Gonzales cut the speed to just above an idle when a second,
slightly larger island appeared to port.

It only took
a few minutes to reach the north end of the island and a small channel that cut
between it and a broad peninsula that stuck out into the lake like a fat
thumb.  Shutting down the motors, he hand signed to the rest of the team
that they were switching to silent.  Sam remained prone on the side of the
bow deck as Gonzales grabbed a long handled paddle and moved to the point of
the bow so he could reach water on both sides of the boat.

Sam and the
other SEALs kept a constant scan going, looking for any threats as the Master
Chief carefully stroked with the paddle and brought them into the small
channel.  It was so narrow that branches from trees growing on the
adjacent shorelines occasionally brushed the widest parts of the boat’s
hull.  Ahead, the water ended in an indistinct line that was characterized
by a dense growth of tall reeds.

He kept them
going, letting the momentum of the boat push into the reeds until resistance
brought it to a stop.  Reaching out he grasped a handful of the tough
plants, holding them in place.  Sam raised to his knees to see over the
foliage, slowly scanning back and forth.  Nothing moved and after a moment
he gave the all clear signal.  Tying the boat to the reeds, Gonzales raised
his rifle and slid over the edge of the bow.

  The
cold water reached his chest before his boots came down in thick mud.  Sam
joined him and they pushed a few feet into the forest of reeds before stopping
and waiting for the rest of the team.  Single file, the Master Chief led
the way forward.  The lake bottom sloped up sharply and in less than five
yards he reached the end of the concealment of the thickly growing plants.

Pausing, he
scanned, saw nothing moving and continued across a narrow strip of mud and onto
an overgrown green lawn.  The SEALs behind him quickly moved into the
open, again stepping into a diamond formation.  Each had an area of
responsibility as they moved.

On
Lieutenant Sam’s order, they moved together, climbing a gentle slope. 
Reaching the crest, the land flattened in front of them.  A large parking
lot with a scattering of abandoned vehicles was directly to their front. 
Beyond the lot was a large sports field. 

Careful but
fast movement brought them across the parking area, then each of them scaled a
low fence that defined the edge of the field.  Back in formation, they cut
diagonally across the artificial turf, reaching the far edge and climbing over
another fence.  Ahead was a massive parking lot that extended farther than
their night vision could see. 

They set off
across the asphalt, occasionally adjusting direction to give an abandoned
vehicle a wide berth.  Following the pavement north, it was almost ten
minutes before they came to the exit they were looking for.  Stepping
through and beyond a row of trees, Sam looked at the hill to their front where
the physics laboratory was located.