Dream Sky (21 page)

“Get him on the line.”

17

MUMBAI, INDIA

7:45 AM IST

LOCAL DATE: JANUARY 7
^TH

A
LOUD RING
jerked Arjun awake. He blinked and looked around, surprised to find he
was
sitting in the communications room chair. He had meant to stretch out on the blanket he’d spread on the floor, but he seemed to have fallen asleep right there at the desk. No wonder, though. It had been a long night.

A ring again, off to his left. As he twisted to see where it was coming from, he winced. His less-than-optimal sleeping posture had left a kink in his neck. As he rubbed the sore muscle, there was another ring.

The sat phone.

Answering it, he said, “This is Arjun.”

“It’s Crystal,” the woman said. “Has Sanjay arrived yet?”

“Uh, I am not sure. I have not seen him yet. Give me a moment and I will check. If he is here, I will have him call you.”

“Thank you. As soon as possible.”

Arjun made the journey down from the rooftop room into the main building, and hunted around until he heard voices coming from the dining hall on the ground floor. There he found Darshana, Sanjay, Kusum, and Prabal drinking tea.

“Ah,” Sanjay said. “You are awake.”

“Awake? I was…working,” Arjun said. “I was not asleep.”

“So you have mastered the art of working with your eyes closed?” Darshana said, an eyebrow raised.

Apparently someone had paid him a visit while he napped. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Perhaps I was asleep for a little while.”

Sanjay smiled. “You should not worry. You have to sleep sometime, my friend. Come, have some tea.”

“Actually, Sanjay, I have—” Arjun stopped as he accidentally turned his head a millimeter the wrong way, sending a shockwave of pain down his neck.

Darshana stood up. “Are you all right?”

He held up a hand. “I am fine. Just a muscle pull.”

“May I suggest you use a bed next time you want to sleep?” Kusum said.

There were smiles all around and a few chuckles.

Arjun glared at all of them before allowing himself a small grin. “I would laugh with you, but it would hurt too much.” He pulled the sat phone out of his back pocket. “Sanjay, the Americans would like to talk to you.”

“About what?” Sanjay asked as he took the phone.

“I did not ask.”

Sanjay pressed the preset they’d assigned to the Americans’ number, then put the call on speaker so his friends could all hear.

The voice that answered belonged to the woman named Crystal.

“I understand you are looking for me,” Sanjay said.

“Oh, Sanjay. Great. Hold on.”

The line went silence for well over a minute before a new voice said, “Sanjay, it’s Daniel Ash.”

“Hello, Captain Ash,” Sanjay said.

“Good morning, I guess. It is morning there?”

“Yes. It is.”

There was a pause. “First, I want to thank you and your friends. What you’ve found there and helped us gain access to is vitally important. We’ve already learned quite a bit.”

“I am pleased to hear that.”

“There’s something we’ve discovered that…well, we could use your help on.”

“Of course. We are not technicians, but we will do what we can.”

“This actually has nothing to do with the equipment or anything there in Mumbai.”

Sanjay exchanged a surprised look with his friends.

“Then what does it have to do with?” he asked.

“Something that involves a trip.” Ash told them about the intercepted message and learning about a potential Project Eden leader working out of Jaipur. “What we would like—if you’re willing, of course—is for one or two of your people to go there and quietly survey the area so we can determine if there’s a way to exploit the situation.”

“You want us to find this Director Mahajan?”

“We haven’t been able to obtain a picture of him yet. Besides, he’s likely to stay inside the base, out of sight. You might, however, have the opportunity to spot the man whose conversation we overheard. He’s lower level, so he might venture outside on occasion. From the information we have here, the base is located within blocks of the Jaipur survival station. Unfortunately, we don’t have the exact coordinates of the base. But there will likely be some back and forth between the two facilities, so if you spot this guy at the station, he should be able to lead you to the base. He’s Caucasian, and I couldn’t tell for sure from the video, but think he’s about five ten, maybe six feet.” Ash’s voice became muffled as he asked a question to someone on his end. When he came back on, he said, “That’s a hundred eighty or a hundred eighty-two centimeters, or thereabouts. We’re all but positive he’s Dutch. I’ll have someone grab an image from the video and send it to you.”

“What happens after we find this man or the director?” Sanjay asked.

“Good question. The way we see things is that if we can keep them off balance, we might have a chance to defeat them. So, depending on the situation you find there, if there’s a chance we can take the director out, we’ll send some people over to do that. That isn’t a problem for you, is it?”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

I
F SANJAY HAD
his way, he would undertake the spy mission on his own, but Kusum was not about to let him go off alone.

“All right, all right,” he said, knowing it was an argument he would never win. “I’ll take Arjun with me.”

“Arjun has been working with the Americans the most. He should stay.”

“Okay,” he said, knowing she was right. “You and I.”

“And Darshana,” she said.

“Why Darshana?”

“It is a long trip, so I assume we will take a car and not our motorbikes. With three drivers we will not need to rest. Or, if you prefer, we could take Prabal instead of Darshana,” she suggested.

“No, no. Darshana is fine.”

Prabal had made quite a mess of things here in Mumbai before the survival station was abandoned, and while he’d been trying hard to rectify his actions—actions which, admittedly, worked out for the better in the end—Prabal was a bit of a walking disaster, so taking him along was not an option Sanjay wanted to consider.

Sanjay located a Toyota dealer on Lal Bahadur Shastri Road, picked out a brand new Land Cruiser, and returned to the survival station, where he, Kusum, and Darshana loaded enough supplies into the back to sustain them for several days. When they were done, they went inside to let Arjun and Prabal know they were leaving.

Both men were up in the communications room, so Sanjay called up the stairwell, “We are all set. Our satellite phone will be on if you need to reach us.”

“Wait!” Arjun said.

He climbed down the ladder, still clearly bothered by the pulled muscle in his neck. When he reached the bottom, he pulled a smartphone out of his pocket.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Sanjay.

“What do I need this for?” The regular cellular system had gone out of commission only a few days after the outbreak started.

“The picture. I put it on there.”

“What picture?”

“From Mr. Ash. Of the Dutchman.”

Right. In his rush to leave, Sanjay had forgotten. He put the phone in his pocket and held out his hand to his friend. “If you have any problems, let us know.”

“Same for you,” Arjun said. “And whatever you do, do not let them see you.”

18

LOS ANGELES SURVIVAL STATION

DODGER STADIUM

6:01 PM PST

D
R. LAWRENCE RAN
the test a second time, but the results were exactly the same. She hurried over to the lab door and stuck her head out into the main medical room.

“Dr. Rivera, can you come here for a moment?”

Not waiting for a response, she returned to the workstation, where the results of the two separate tests run on Ben Bowerman’s blood were displayed side by side on the computer monitor. As she checked them again, she heard Dr. Rivera enter the room.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is he sick?”

There was no need to indentify the detainee he was talking about. Bowerman was the only intake they’d had all day.

“Not sick,” Dr. Lawrence said. “Immune.”

“Are you sure?”

“He has the antibodies. He’s had KV-27a.”

“But he doesn’t look like he just got over it,” Rivera said. “He looks fine.”

She locked eyes with him. “I don’t think he had it recently.”

The corner of his mouth rose as he realized what she meant. “Another one?”

“Yes.”

“Incredible.”

“Isn’t it?”

__________

T
HE STADIUM LIGHTS
lit up the field, holding back the night.

Outside, a whistle sounded twice.

“Finally!” Diego said.

“What’s that mean?” Ben asked.

“Dinner,” Melody told him.

They walked outside into the cool but not uncomfortable evening.

“We wait here,” Diego said, after taking only a few steps from the building.

“Why?” Ben asked.

“It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but before Ben could pursue it further, the gate on the other side of their yard opened, and a guard entered, his rifle held high against his chest. He was followed by two men, each carrying a pair of individually wrapped trays. They set them on the ground, exited, and then one returned with an additional tray.

As soon as they had all left and the gate was closed, Diego said, “Okay.”

They retrieved their food and took it back into the building, taking seats around the tables in the central area. The sound of crinkling aluminum foil filled the room for a moment as they removed the covers from their food.

Dinner consisted of salad, fried rice with chicken, and sliced fruit. There was also a bottle of water and a small piece of cherry pie. Ben picked up the plastic fork and wondered if those in the sick holding area received the same food.

He froze, a forkful of rice inches from his mouth.

The other holding areas.

He dropped the utensil on his plate and shot out of his chair.

“Where you going?” Ava asked.

Without answering, he ran outside. If he hadn’t already missed it, he thought this might be his opportunity to see into the tarp-covered area, when the guards opened the gate to deliver dinner.

He hustled around to the back corner of the fence. The third enclosure looked unchanged from the last time he’d checked it out. Had dinner been delivered?

He studied the fence, and then groaned. Of course. There was no break in the fence that he could see, so the gate must have been on the backside, out of his view. He pushed away from the fence and headed back around to the dorm entrance.

But as he came around the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. The gate to his holding area was open again. This time there were four guards—two by the opening, and two accompanying Drs. Lawrence and Rivera as they walked toward the dorm.

Seeing him, they too stopped.

After a moment of confusion, Dr. Lawrence smiled and said, “Mr. Bowerman. Excellent. We were looking for you. Please, come with us.”

“Come with you where?”

“Please,” she said, motioning him to join them.

In contrast to Dr. Lawrence’s friendly demeanor, the two guards stared at him, as if ready to swing their rifles around and shoot him at the slightest protest.

“Mr. Bowerman?” Dr. Rivera said.

Knowing he had no choice, Ben nodded and walked over.

“Thank you,” Dr. Lawrence said as they escorted him out of the pen. “We’ll go over here for a moment.” She gestured to the third-base-side dugout.

After they took the steps down, Dr. Rivera pointed at the bench. “Have a seat.”

Ben did as asked. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Dr. Lawrence said. “We just need to draw a little more blood. Our fault. We had a problem with the earlier sample.”

Quickly and efficiently, they poked his arm and filled another vial.

“That’s it,” Dr. Lawrence said, placing a bandage over the puncture wound. She turned to the guards. “All yours.”

“Up,” one of the guards said to Ben.

They led him back onto the field, but instead of heading to his holding area, they took him to the left along the outside of the fence. When they reached the corner out in left field, they veered right toward the tarp-covered enclosure.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked.

“You’re being relocated.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have that information.”

As much as Ben wanted to see who was inside the mysterious pen, he couldn’t help feeling nervous as he approached it.

“What’s this area for?” he asked.

The guards said nothing as they took him around to the side that faced the center-field wall. There, as he’d already guessed, was the gate. After it was unlocked and opened, Ben was pushed firmly, but not unkindly, inside.

The gate closed behind him and the lock clicked into place.

What the hell just happened?

He turned in a circle, assessing his new surroundings.

Like in the other areas, there was a building here, though it was only about a third the size of the dorm he’d been in, leaving an outside area that wasn’t much bigger than his parents’ yard in San Mateo. The tarp was attached to the outside of the fence and blocked some of the stadium lights, creating areas of shadow here and there.

As he turned to look at the building, he saw a woman looking out one of the windows at him. He headed over and pulled the door open.

“Hello,” he said, stepping inside. “Didn’t mean to scare anyone. Guess I’ve been assigned here.”

There were bunks here, too, but they were only two high. As he came around the set nearest the door, he saw at least a dozen people sitting on chairs in a small open area at the far end, all staring at him. They were men and women ranging anywhere from late teens to probably mid-fifties.