Anvil (21 page)

Lucas Martin
stood in the shade of the weathered structure that disguised the entrance to
the prison.  He was waiting for the guards to finish processing Steve, get
the man dressed in something other than an orange jumpsuit and bring him to the
surface.  Their transportation, the same helicopter that had delivered
him, was ten minutes away.

Once they
boarded, it would fly them about a hundred kilometers to a small air strip
where they would transfer to a plane that would deliver them to
Geraldton.  From there it was a short drive to the CIA station in
Moonyoonka.  Lucas had confirmed there would be a vehicle waiting for him
at the Geraldton airport.

“When do you
think you can come home?”

Lucas was
speaking to his wife on a satellite phone.  For the first time since she’d
found out he was back in the service, he thought he could detect a note of
warmth in her voice.  He knew her anger was really fear for his safety,
and had been careful to not respond harshly to many of the vindictive things
she’d said.

“I don’t
know,” he answered.  “Maybe in a day or two I can come see you.  And
the kids.  How are the little buggers?”

“They’re
fine,” she said.  “They miss you.”

“What about
you?”  Lucas couldn’t help himself.

“You’re a
big, stupid arse.  You know that?  Of course I miss you.  I want
you home, not off playing soldier.”

Behind him,
Lucas heard the whine of hydraulics as the lift that transported people to and
from the surface went into motion.

“I have to
go,” he said.  “I love you, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

He paused
for a beat, hoping to hear that she loved him too.  After a moment of
silence, she told him to be safe and that she loved him.  Smiling, he
broke the connection and slipped the phone into his pocket.  As he turned,
a pair of doors slid open revealing Steve flanked by two guards.

They saw
Lucas, nodded, and one of them placed his hand flat on Steve’s back and pushed
him forward.  As soon as Steve was clear, the other one reached out and
pressed a button.  The doors slid shut and there was another whine as the
car descended beneath the Australian desert.

“Where are
we?”  Steve asked, blinking in the harsh light as he looked around at the
desolate landscape.

After being
captured, he had been drugged and a blackout sack pulled over his head. 
He had snatches of memory of being transported in an aircraft, but only knew
that by the sounds and motion.  He hadn’t been able to see anything as
he’d been brought to the prison.

“Middle of
bloody nowhere,” Lucas said.

“Are we
supposed to walk?”  Steve asked petulantly.

“Helicopter
coming,” Lucas grunted.  “So keep your mouth shut and behave and it will
all be over soon.”

“You’re
letting me go.  Right?”  Steve edged away from the much larger man.

“I already
told you.  You do what we discussed and as far as Australia is concerned
you don’t exist.  We never heard of you and never want to hear of you.”

Steve peered
closely at Lucas before nodding and moving a little farther away to lean
against a rough wall.  Lucas turned and looked to the west when he faintly
heard the sound of the approaching aircraft.  It was early. 
Good. 

The sooner
they were in the air, the sooner this whole thing would be over and he could
make a quick trip home to see his family.  And if he was really lucky,
maybe get some time alone with his wife to see if they could add another kid to
the mix.

The
helicopter came into view, the bright red paint serving to make it blend in
with one of the more popular tour companies that operated out of Perth. 
It even flew out of the same airport on occasion.  Only the employees of
that company would recognize it as a fake.  Each of them was retired from
the RAAF and knew to look the other way and keep their mouths shut.  They
boarded and before Lucas fastened his seatbelt he handed a black, fabric bag to
Steve.

“Put it on,”
he said.

“What? 
Why?”

“Secret
prisons don’t stay secret if every bloody wanker that comes in or out can see
where they are,” Lucas said, giving him a hard glare.

Steve
nodded, understanding the reasoning, and pulled the bag over his head.  He
felt Lucas check his harness, then heard the click as he secured his own. 
A moment later the seat under him shifted as the pilot lifted off.

The flight
to the airstrip was quick, Lucas enjoying the scenery and chatting with the
pilot to pass the time.  Steve sat hunched in his seat, ignoring the two
men and staring at the inside of the bag.  It was hot and slightly
claustrophobic, but he didn’t complain.  It beat the hell out of a prison
cell.

The plane
was ready to go and less than two minutes after being dropped by the helo, they
were on board and it was turning into the wind for takeoff.  It was a much
longer flight to Geraldton and Lucas took advantage of the opportunity to get
some sleep.  Steve sat there, listening to the buzz saw snores emanating
from his traveling companion. 

He was
frightened and excited.  Fearful that something would happen at the last
moment and cuffs would be slapped back on and he would be returned to his small
cell.  Excited at his impending freedom.

They were
half an hour away from Geraldton when Lucas stretched and sat up.  He
looked over at Steve, nodded and asked the pilot where they were.  The man
answered with a location that Steve didn’t understand, but by the way he
grunted it seemed to make sense to Lucas.

Several
minutes later the bag was pulled off of Steve’s head.  He squinted in the
sudden light and tried to look outside the aircraft.  It was nearly a
minute before his eyes adjusted, just in time for him to see rolling green
hills fading away to suburban sprawl.  The landing gear thumped onto the
runway and he was pressed forward against the belt as the pilot braked hard and
turned onto a taxiway.

They passed
several hangars before turning into one that was vacant except for a shiny
black Chevrolet Suburban.  An older man with brush cut hair, wearing a
black suit, leaned on the front fender.  A cigarette dangled from his
lips.

“Who’s
that?”  Steve asked nervously.

“Our ride,”
Lucas said dismissively.

The pilot
shut the engine down, the propeller quickly coming to a stop.  Releasing
his belt, Lucas popped the door and climbed out.  He waited for Steve to
exit the aircraft, escorting him to the waiting vehicle and getting in the back
seat without speaking to the driver.

No one spoke
as they drove out of the airport and onto the 123 highway.  The drive to
Moonyoonka was short, even more so as the driver pushed their speed well above
the posted limit.  Traffic was light, the big American vehicle blasting
past the locals like they were standing still.

When they
turned onto the access road for the listening post, he slowed until they were
moving barely above an idle.  Red dust boiled up from the unpaved
road.  Ahead, a Toyota SUV blocked the entrance, two men armed with
automatic weapons standing at either end of the vehicle.  The driver
flashed his lights and one of them jumped behind the wheel and pulled it to the
side to allow them to pass. 

Steve turned
and watched out the rear window as the entrance was once again blocked after
they drove through the gate onto the paved lot.  All of the stations
defenses had been disabled or destroyed by the SAS raid that had captured
Steve, so getting in was as simple as walking through the front door.  The
power was on, the air conditioned interior cool and comfortable after the
furnace-like heat radiating from the black asphalt.

The driver
remained with the Suburban, Lucas following Steve through the doors and down a
hall to a large room full of servers and communications equipment.  A
young man with an obvious military haircut waited for them at the closest
workstation.

“Who’s
this?”  Steve asked, pausing in surprise.

“This is my technician,”
Lucas said, pushing Steve forward.  “He’ll tell me if you’re trying to
pull anything, or not doing what you agreed to do.  And once you get
access, he’ll take over and retrieve the records we need.”

Steve
swallowed audibly, took a breath and moved forward.  The technician had
already powered up the station and loaded the first log in screen for the
database.  Glancing at the two men, Steve sat down in front of the
terminal and reached for the keyboard.  Lucas stopped him with a heavy
hand on his shoulder.

“Let me just
be clear,” he said.  “You do anything to erase or corrupt the data, you’re
not going back to prison.  There’s lots of dingos in the area, and the sun
will be setting soon.  That’s when they like to hunt and feed.  Do
you understand what I’m saying?”

“I
understand,” Steve said, sweat beading his brow and upper lip.  “No
tricks.  I’ll get you in then you do whatever you want to do.  I
don’t even want to know who you’re looking for.”

He had met
Lucas’ steely gaze, finally turning back to the workstation and typing when
Lucas nodded and removed his hand.  Steve got past the first screen
quickly, pausing when a new window popped open and asked for a supervisory
password.  He thought for a moment, then carefully typed in a long string
of letters mixed with characters and numbers.

Hitting
enter, the window vanished and the screen remained blank.  Lucas was
reaching out to grab his shoulder when a new window appeared.  In large,
red letters it said “
Biometric scan required for access
”. 

Steve
reached out and pulled a small device towards him that looked like a web
camera.  It was connected to the work station by a long cable.  He
raised the device to a point nearly touching his right eye and stared directly
into the lens, pressing a button on the side of the retina scanner.  It
briefly glowed green before beeping twice.  The word “
confirmed
” flashed
in the window, then disappeared as the screen refreshed to display a directory
of data tables.

The younger
man touched Lucas’ arm and nodded.  Steve returned the scanner to its
place and pushed away from the keyboard.  He stood and faced Lucas as the
other man slipped into the seat and began working.

“I’ve done
what you asked,” Steve said.  “I’m free now.  Right?”

Lucas held
up a finger, telling Steve to wait.  He watched as the man quickly found
the record he was looking for.  Picking up a pen, he wrote the information
down on a piece of paper and double checked it against the screen before
standing and handing it to Lucas.

“Yes. 
As agreed.  As an official representative of the Australian government,
you are no longer wanted for any crimes.  Australia officially disavows
any knowledge of you or your whereabouts.”

Lucas had
folded the paper neatly in half and placed it in his wallet as he spoke.  The
younger man had already left the room, and Lucas stepped aside to let Steve
pass.

Smiling,
Steve went into the hall and strode for the front door.  Lucas followed
him, stepping out into the heat of the late afternoon.  The Suburban sat
waiting for them, the driver once again leaning on the fender and smoking another
cigarette.  Steve started to turn towards where his personal vehicle sat, the
car not having been moved after he was arrested.  He paused when Lucas
called out to him.

“One more
thing,” Lucas said, nodding at the Suburban driver who tossed his cigarette to
the ground and stood up straight.  “I’d like to introduce you to Jim
Branch.”

Steve looked
at the man, noticing something that hadn’t been there before.  On the
lapel of his jacket was a small pin that glowed in the harsh sunlight. 
Steve had seen that same pin plenty of times before, but not since he had been
demoted and reassigned to Australia.  It was the American flag.

“He is actually
Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant James Branch, assigned to the American embassy
in Sydney.  He pulled out all the stops to get a flight all the way across
Australia in time to drive us out here.”

“The embassy?” 
Steve asked, fear threatening to turn his bowels to water.

“The
American
embassy, you fucking traitor,” the man said, drawing a pistol from beneath his
jacket and pointing it at Steve’s face.

“Well, since
one of you has diplomatic immunity, and the other doesn’t officially exist in
the eyes of the Australian government, I’ll be on my way,” Lucas said with a
broad smile.

He walked
behind the Marine and across the blistering parking lot.  Behind him,
Steve screamed his name.  Begging.  Pleading.  Offering to break
into other American systems if he would just come back and help.

Lucas
ignored him, opening the back door and climbing into the air conditioned
interior of the Toyota SUV.  The two guards were already in the front
seats, waiting for him.  The computer tech occupied the other rear seat.  The
driver stepped on the gas as soon as Lucas closed his door.

He touched
the button for the power window, lowering it a few inches as they slowly drove
towards the highway on the dirt access road.  Before they reached the
pavement, Lucas heard a single pistol shot from behind.