Labyrinth of Night (31 page)

Her eyes widened in shocked surprise, but his words were not so startling as the sight of the pistol he pulled from his right thigh pocket and carefully placed on the gridded floor between his feet. ‘Maybe you were right for slapping me,’ he continued, giving her a wink and a grin, ‘but I hope that it doesn’t mean that we can’t still be friends.’

She nodded quickly; she comprehended the double-talk.
‘Sure. I understand.’
Already static was breaking up her voice; red dust rose around them as electromagnetic scrubbers began to whisk their suits clean, the dirt falling into vents beneath the gridwork.
‘But if you need to talk about it, I can…’

The rest was lost in electronic fuzz-out. Nash unzipped his left thigh pocket and pulled out the rest of the electret mikes. He switched off the comlink and signaled her to do the same, then he grabbed her right hand and carefully dropped half of them into her palm. At the same time, he leaned forward and firmly touched the faceplate of his helmet to hers. ‘Bugs!’ he said loudly. ‘Put these wherever you can!’

It took three attempts for him to get the message across to her; touching helmets as a means of communication was not everything that popular fiction claimed it to be. Once she got the idea, though, Sasaki nodded her head and transferred the bugs into her pocket.

A couple of minutes later the green light above the inside door flashed on, signaling that the airlock was depressurized. Without speaking to each other, they began zipping out of their skinsuits, stowing the helmets, the overgarments and the Mylar pressure-suits in the recessed lockers. Aboard the
Akron
they had given each other exclusive use of the airlock for suit-up, but in this situation such privacy was out of the question. It was the first time during the long journey that Nash had the opportunity to observe Miho undressed; for the few moments in which she was wearing only a bikini bra and panties, he had a chance to regret the vow of celibacy he had made to her. Sasaki glanced at him, blushed deeply, then turned her back to him as she removed a standard-issue cotton jumpsuit from her locker. Nash deliberately closed his mind to Sasaki; this wasn’t the time or the place.

He quickly tucked the SIG/Sauer into the calf-holster above his right ankle, then climbed into his own jumpsuit, carefully pulling the elastic cuff over the holster to conceal the gun. As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of Miho pulling a small flat plastic case out of her skinsuit’s cargo pocket and shoving it into a thigh pocket of her jumpsuit. It seemed to be an electronic device of some sort. She looked at him, noticed his inquisitive expression, and gave a serious nod of her head as she zipped up the front of her suit.

This woman apparently had a few secret tricks of her own; somehow, Nash was not surprised. He was already getting used to the notion that Sasaki was a partner in this operation. Were it not for the possibility that the airlock could be miked, he might have said something to that effect.

They quickly transferred the electret mikes into their breast pockets; Nash was careful to keep his pocket unflapped and hand-signaled Sasaki to do the same. They picked up their duffel bags and took a moment to give each other the once-over, making certain that everything was well-hidden.

‘Ready?’ he asked. She nodded nervously, then Nash grabbed the latch and twisted it upward. There was a slight hiss of air and their ears popped; Nash pushed the heavy airlock hatch open.

Together, they stepped into Cydonia Base.

The access corridor was deserted; from where they stood they could see that all the module hatches were shut. A swift glance down the long tunnel didn’t reveal any TV cameras, although that still didn’t rule out bugging devices. They had the base to themselves for at least five minutes until the next two people cycled through the airlock—ten minutes, if they allowed for desuiting.

Yet L’Enfant himself was still unaccounted for; they had not seen him since their arrival at the base. Kawakami had told them that someone was always on duty in the command center; Nash had to guess that he was in Module Two, at the opposite end of the corridor. Ten minutes wasn’t much time, but by planting as many bugs as possible in the modules before the next group came into the base, they might be able to steal an advantage.

‘Which way?’ he asked, keeping his tone casual for the benefit of any listening devices in the corridor.

‘Down here,’ Sasaki said. ‘I’ll show you to our quarters.’ She stepped around him and began carrying her duffel bag down the corridor, passing the first two hatches: Modules Eight and Nine, respectively marked
Monitor Center
and
Lab A
. He wanted to stop to conceal mikes in both of them, but she strode ahead of him before he could stop her, walking to the next two modules in the row.

The hatch to Module Six, on the right, was unlocked; she pushed it open and brazenly stepped inside. He followed her through the door, scanning the compartment. Four bunks, each with their sheets and blankets neatly tucked in to military-regulation precision, spare sneakers standing in orderly rows next to the lockers, the walls unadorned with any posters or snapshots. One bunk near the rear had a makeshift curtain around it.

‘Wrong one, I think,’ she said softly as she jabbed a finger toward the nearest bunk.

Nash understood immediately. Sasaki had led him to the bunk-house used by L’Enfant and his aides. He quickly knelt next to the bunk; while she watched the door, he pulled an electret mike out of his pocket and pasted it underneath the edge of the bunk, safely out of both sight and of easy reach of exploring hands. A tap of his index finger against the bug’s side activated it; the mike was now good for the next seventy-two hours, so long as regular voice-vibrations recharged its friction battery.

So far, so good. Nash stood up again and followed Miho out of the module.

Directly across the corridor was Module Seven; Sasaki pushed open the hatch and led him into it. As much as Module Six was spotless and pin-neat, this bunkhouse was in disarray: the two bunks at the front were carelessly made, stray bits of clothing lay on the floor, posters of Earth scenes and snapshots of unfamiliar people were taped to the walls. Two bunks at the end of the module were unsheeted.

‘That’s yours,’ she said, pointing to the bare mattress on the left. ‘Paul and Shin-ichi use the other beds. I suppose Waylon gets the one on the right. I’ll be with Tamara, at the other end of the corridor.’ She made a hasty motion with her hand, gesturing to the hatch; Nash dropped his duffel bag on the floor next to his bunk. ‘This is getting heavy,’ she added.

‘Need some help?’ he asked. He glanced at his watch. They had a minimum of two and a half minutes left before the airlock recycled. Maybe more, but he wasn’t going to count on it. Maybe he could make it back to the lab or the monitor center…

‘Yes. Thanks.’ Sasaki unshouldered her bag and handed it to him, then they exited from the bunkhouse and walked further down the corridor. The wardroom was in Module Four, on the right, but Miho pushed open the hatch to Module Five. Tamara Isralilova’s immaculate bunk was obviously the only one occupied in the compartment; Lieutenant Swigart apparently had no compunction about sharing Module Six with three men. Nash remembered the curtained bunk in Module Six and smiled. Military field discipline.

Sasaki motioned for Nash to drop her duffel bag on the opposite bunk, then said loudly, ‘Let me show you the wardroom.’ Before Nash could reply, she bent close to him and urgently whispered in his ear: ‘Follow me to the main airlock! Quick, we don’t have much time!’

She started to head out of the module, but Nash grabbed her forearm and yanked her back; she winced from his tight grasp and began to struggle. ‘No, dammit!’ he hissed. ‘We can’t do it in time…and how do you expect to get in there, anyway?’

Sasaki angrily pulled her arm out of his hand. ‘Keycard decoder,’ she whispered. ‘Hurry, while we’ve got the chance!’

A keycard decoder: now Nash understood the purpose of the small plastic case he had glimpsed in the airlock. It was an electronic skeleton key which could be slipped into a keycard slot to decipher the code-sequence and unlock any given door. A rather sophisticated piece of spy technology; JETRO must have anticipated a few difficulties and equipped her with one in advance. He only wished SA’s armory had had the same forethought.

It was tempting, yet…‘We’re flat out of time,’ he whispered. ‘Look, even if we can get the hatch open before someone cycles through Module Ten, we’re not going to be able to do much before…’

They heard footsteps in the corridor, just beyond the open hatch.

Without thinking twice, Nash grabbed Sasaki by the waist, hauled her toward him, and planted his lips on hers. For a second she squirmed against his rough embrace, making him feel like a rapist, before her intelligence won out over her instincts. She slid her arms around his neck and reluctantly surrendered herself; for a moment he actually began to enjoy her kiss before someone outside the doorway cleared his throat.

‘If you’re going to do this in my base,’ Terrance L’Enfant said softly, ‘you might have the common decency to close the hatch first.’

Nash quickly looked up, pretending to be startled, as Sasaki uncurled her arms from his neck; she didn’t have to pretend her embarrassment. L’Enfant stood in the corridor with his hands clasped behind his back, a vaguely bemused smile on his lean face. He wore a khaki jumpsuit, identical to theirs except for the pair of captain’s bars which were pinned to each collar. L’Enfant studied them both with unblinking eyes, and Nash realized that he was waiting for them to speak.

‘Sorry, Commander,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we…uh, got a little carried away there.’ He could feel Sasaki trembling in his arms. ‘The next time we’ll…’

The smile faded from L’Enfant’s face; he closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. ‘Not here, no, there won’t be a next time, Mr Donaldson. We’ve had to made several sacrifices of personal liberty to get our work done, and this is one of them.’

He paused for a moment. ‘You are both visitors here for the next couple of days,’ he continued in a condescending tone, ‘so I expect you to restrain your sexual impulses until you’ve left this base.’ He looked directly at Miho. ‘I also expect you to keep your boyfriend out of the female quarters, Dr. Sasaki,’ he said stiffly. ‘I think Ms. Isralilova would appreciate the courtesy. This isn’t a college dorm. We don’t have any doorknobs for you to hang a towel upon.’

He glanced at Nash again and added to her, ‘But if you had to find someone to have a fling with, you could have done better than choosing some blimp jockey. Sleeping with him won’t advance your sterling career, hmm?’

The redness in Sasaki’s face was now more from repressed anger than embarrassment. She stepped back out of Nash’s arms and looked down at the floor, silently nodding her head once. L’Enfant hadn’t realized how much of a verbal knife he had shoved into her with that last offhand remark; Nash admired her self-possession for not lashing back at him. Yet, more immediately, he recognized that his suspicions had been correct; judging from L’Enfant’s choice of words, he must have been party to their fabricated conversation in the auxiliary airlock. Kawakami was right—the entire base
was
bugged, with the primary listening post being the command module.

From the far end of the corridor, they heard the clank and hiss of the Module Ten airlock opening again. L’Enfant glanced in that direction, then looked back at Nash. He unexpectedly smiled and crooked a finger at him.

‘Now, Mr Donaldson, if you’ll come this way, I have something to show you.’ His voice had lightened almost to the point of breeziness. ‘You might find it interesting. And Dr. Sasaki…I have a small task for you.’

Kawakami and Verduin were the next two persons to cycle through the auxiliary airlock; they stood hesitantly at the opposite end of the corridor, quietly watching as L’Enfant led Nash and Sasaki out of Module Five. L’Enfant casually waved to them before turning to face Sasaki. ‘I’m sure you’ll want more time to become reacquainted with them,’ he said, ‘so why don’t you escort them into the wardroom for lunch? Mr Donaldson and I will be joining you shortly.’

At that moment, the Module One hatch opened behind them and Charlie Akers and Megan Swigart entered the habitat; Nash noticed that they both wore single-bar insignia pins on the collars of their jumpsuits. They didn’t salute nor did they snap to attention when they saw the commander, yet their martial deference to L’Enfant was obvious nonetheless.

L’Enfant nodded to them as Akers closed the hatch. ‘Mr Marks has Mr Boggs well in hand, I assume?’

‘Yes sir,’ Swigart replied crisply. ‘They’re unloading the
Akron
now and they’ll be in as soon as the job’s finished.’

‘Very good.’ L’Enfant stepped aside, extending a gracious hand toward Miho. ‘You may join Dr. Sasaki for lunch with Shin-ichi and Paul. They’ll probably welcome your company.’ His tone was polite, yet his words left no room for refusal by anyone, least of all Miho. As Swigart walked past him, L’Enfant added, ‘And set an extra place for Tamara, she’ll be joining you soon.’

He then turned to Akers; the lieutenant was wiping sweat off his balding pate, but snapped into parade rest as L’Enfant faced him. ‘Charlie, if you’ll come with me and Mr Donaldson into the command center, we can finish the rest of our business.’

‘Yes sir,’ Akers said, completely deadpan. He turned and opened the hatch adjacent to Module Two, stepping back to hold it open for his commanding officer. L’Enfant allowed Nash to enter first, then walked in just behind him, with Akers bringing up the rear.

The command module was cramped, dark and sullenly illuminated, filled with chittering instruments and green-backlit LCD screens; to Nash, it had an unnerving resemblance to the bridge of a submarine. A tall woman with curly dark hair was seated in front of the communications station. She looked up nervously at the three men as they entered; her eyes were shadowed, her shoulders slouched forward. One glimpse of her face, and Nash was reminded of the look a caged wild rabbit gives to its captors at petting time.