Tyrannosaur Canyon (41 page)

"Stop moving, all of you, and lower your weapons."

The leader motioned them to halt.

"Like I said, this man's going to tell all of us what's going on or I'm going to kill him. Understand? You wouldn't want to report back to base with your handler in a body bag, would you?"

"You'll be in a body bag next to his," said Hitt quietly.

"I'm doing this for you, Sergeant."

"Us?"

"You too need to know what's really going on."

Silence.

Ford pressed the gun to Masago's head. "Talk."

"Release him or I'll open fire," Hitt said quietly. "One . . ."

"Wait," said Tom. "We're American citizens. We've done nothing wrong. Is this why you went into the military-to kill American civilians?"

There was just the faintest of hesitations. Then Hitt said, "Two . . ."

"Listen to me," Tom continued, speaking directly to the sergeant. "You don't know what you're doing. Don't blindly follow orders. At least wait until you know what's going on."

Again the sergeant hesitated. The two other soldiers were looking to him. He was the key.

Hitt lowered his weapon.

Ford spoke quietly, remembering what he'd been taught about interrogations years ago. "You lied to these men, didn't you?"

"No." He was already sweating.

"You did. And now you're going to tell them the truth, or I'll kill you--no second chances, no warnings, nothing. A bullet to the brain and then I'll take what's coming to me."

Ford meant it and that was key. The man knew it.

"Okay. First question. Who do you work for?"

"I'm director of Detachment LS480."

"Which is?"

"Established in 1973 after the Apollo 17 mission to the moon. Its purpose was to study a lunar sample known as LS480."

"A moon rock?"

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

Masago swallowed. He was sweating. "It was a piece of ejecta from a crater known as Van Serg. The rock contained fragments of the meteorite that formed the crater. In those contaminants were particles. Microbes."

"What kind of microbes?"

"Unknown. They appear to be an alien form of life. Biologically active. They could be weaponized."

"And the connection to the dinosaur?"

"The same particles were found in the dinosaur fossil. The dinosaur died of an infection caused by the LS480 particle."

Ford paused. "You're saying the dinosaur was killed by an alien life-form?"

"Yes."

"And the connection with the moon rock again? I'm a little lost."

"Van Serg crater is sixty-five million years old. The dinosaur died 65 million years ago following the Chicxulub impact."

"Chicxulub?"

"The asteroid that caused the mass extinction of the dinosaurs."

"Go on."

"Van Serg crater was made by a fragment from that same asteroid. It appears the asteroid itself was riddled with the LS480 particles."

"What's the purpose of this op?"

"To clear the area, eliminate all knowledge of the dinosaur, and recover the dinosaur for classified research."

"When you say 'clear the area' you're talking about us."

"Correct."

"And when you say 'eliminate all knowledge of the dinosaur,' you're talking about killing us-am I right?"

"I don't take lightly the idea of killing American citizens. But this is an issue of the gravest national security. Our nation's survival is at stake. There's no dishonor in giving up your life for your country-even if it happens to be involuntary. At times it's unavoidable. You were CIA. You understand." He paused, fixing Ford with pinpoint eyes. "Those LS480 particles caused the mass extinction of the dinosaurs. In the wrong hands, those same particles could cause a second mass extinction-of the human race."

Ford released him.

Masago jumped away and backed up, breathing heavily, then unholstered his Beretta. He positioned himself slightly behind Hitt.

"Sergeant Hitt, eliminate these three people. I don't need their information. We'll get it another way."

There was another long silence.

"You're not going to do this," said Sally. "Now you know it's murder."

"I'm waiting for you to carry out my direct orders, soldier," said Masago quiedy.

No one spoke. No one moved.

"You're relieved of command, Hitt," said Masago. "Private Gowicki, carry out my order. Eliminate these people."

Another intense silence.

"Gowicki, I didn't hear an acknowledgment of my order."

Yes, sir.

Gowicki raised his weapon. The seconds ticked by.

"Gowicki?" Masago asked.

"No," said Hitt.

Masago pointed his Beretta at Hitt's head.

"Gowicki? Carry out my order."

Tom hit Masago's knees with a flying tackle, the gun going off harmlessly into the air. Masago spun, recovered, but with an adroit movement Hitt landed a blow to Masago's solar plexus. Masago fell heavily and lay on the ground, doubled up, unable to make a sound.

Hitt kicked the gun away. "Cuff him."

Gowicki and Hirsch came forward and in a moment had secured his arms behind his back in plastic cuffs. He was gasping and coughing, rolling in the sand, blood trickling from his mouth.

A long silence ensued.

"All right," said Hitt to his soldiers. "I'm taking charge of the op. And it seems to me these three people need some water."

Gowicki unslung his canteen and passed it around. They all drank deeply.

"All right," said Hitt. "Now that we know what's really going on, we've still got an op to finish. Seems to me we're supposed to locate a dinosaur fossil. And you know where it is." He faced Ford.

"What do you plan to do with us?"

"I'm taking you three back to WSMR. General Miller'll decide what to do with you-he's the real commanding officer around here, not this"-his voice trailed off and he cast a glance at Masago-"civilian."

Ford nodded toward the great boulder that dominated the back of the cave.

"It's right behind there."

"No shit?" He turned to Gowicki. "You keep an eye on them while I confirm." Hitt vanished behind the boulder and came back a few moments later. "Now that," he said, "is one mean mother." He turned to his men. "Far as I'm concerned, the first part of the op is accomplished. We've located the fossil. I'm calling in the rest of the chalk. We'll rendezvous at the LZ, return to base, report to General Miller with these three individuals, and await further orders." He turned to Masago. "You'll come quietly, sir, and make no disturbance."

3

THE CHOPPER SQUATTED on the alkali flats like a giant black insect about to take flight. They approached in silence, Tom limping on his own, Sally being helped along by a soldier. Hitt came last with Masago in front of him.

The four other members of the chalk, called in by Hitt, lounged in the shade of a nearby rock, smoking cigarettes. Hitt motioned them toward the chopper and they rose, tossing away their butts. Tom followed them into the chopper and the sergeant gestured for them to take seats on the metal benches along the wall.

"Radio base," said Hitt to the copilot. "Report we've accomplished the first part of the operation. Tell 'em I felt compelled to terminate the command of the civilian Masago and disarm him."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll report the details in person to General Miller."

"Yes, sir."

A soldier slid the cargo door shut while the chopper revved up and lifted off. Tom leaned back against the netting next to Sally, feeling more exhausted than he ever had in his life. He glanced over at Masago. The man hadn't said a word. His face looked strangely blank.

The chopper rose out of the steep-walled valley and skimmed southwestward over the mesa tops. The sun was a large drop of blood on the horizon, and as the chopper gained altitude Tom could see Navajo Rim and beyond that the Mesa of the Ancients, its center riddled with the canyon complex known as the Maze. In the far distance, lay the blue curve of the
Chama
River
.

As the chopper made a lazy turn to the southeast, Tom saw a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye-Masago. The man had jumped up and was running for the cockpit. Tom hurled himself at Masago, but the man twisted

free, giving him a sharp upward blow with his cuffed hands. He pulled a knife from his pantleg sheath with both hands, spun and bounded through the open cockpit door. The other men had jumped from their seats to pursue him, but the chopper suddenly yawed, throwing them into the netting, while a gargling scream came from the cockpit.

"He's crashing the chopper!" Hitt cried.

The bird took a sickening downward lurch and a deep shudder came from the rotors. Tom staggered to his feet, gripping the netting, fighting against the dec-celeration as the chopper screamed and spiraled downward. He caught a glimpse through the cockpit door of the copilot, struggling with Masago-and the pilot lying dead on the floor awash with blood.

As the chopper pitched back, Tom used the motion to launch himself into the cockpit. He slammed into the flight console, righted himself on a seat, threw a punch at Masago, clipping his ear. As he staggered backward the copilot seized the man's cuffed wrists and slammed them down on the console, knocking the knife from his hands. The yawing chopper threw them both to the floor and Masago grabbed the copilot, choking him while both slid around on the floor slick with blood. Tom slammed Masago's head against the floor, rolling him off

the copilot.

"Take the controls!" Tom screamed at the copilot, who needed no encouragement. The man lurched to his feet and seized the controls, the bird yawing wildly. With a sudden roar from the back rotors and a gut-wrenching deceleration, he righted the chopper. Masago was still thrashing wildly, fighting with almost superhuman strength, but Hitt had now joined Tom and they had him pinned. Above the screaming engines, Tom could hear the copilot calling in an emergency while he fought with the controls.

Suddenly, through the windscreen, the face of a cliff came rushing past; followed by a bone-breaking jolt and a machine-gun-like series of whangs as pieces of rotor tore like shrapnel through the fuselage. The copilot was hammered to one side by the flying debris, his blood splattering against the shattered Plexiglas of the windscreen. The screeching sound of metal tearing on rock was followed by a weightless moment of free-fall, and then a massive crash.

Silence.

Tom felt like he was swimming out of darkness and it took him a moment to remember where he was-in a helicopter wreck. He tried to move and found he was jammed up in a corner on his side, debris piled over him. He could hear screaming as if coming in from a distance, the dripping of hydraulic fluid (or was it blood?), the stench of aviation fuel and burnt electronics. All motion had

ceased. He struggled to free himself. A huge gash had ripped open one side of the chopper and through it he could see they had come to rest on a steep slope of broken rock. The helicopter groaned and shifted, metal rivets popping. Smoke began filling the air.

Tom climbed over the debris and found Sally all tangled up with a heap of netting and plastic tarps. He pulled the netting aside.

"Sally!"

She stirred, opened her eyes.

"I'm getting you out." He grasped her around the shoulders and hauled her free, relieved to see she seemed to be only dazed.

"Tom!" came the voice of Wyman Ford.

He turned. Ford was crawling up the pile of debris, his face running with blood. "Fire," he gasped. "We're on fire." At the same time there was a whooshing sound and the tail section burst into flame, the heat like a glow in their faces.

Tom wrapped his arm around Sally and carried her toward the tear in the fuselage, the only way out. He grasped the netting and struggled up, hooked an arm over the sill and hauled her up to the hole. She grasped the ragged edge and Tom helped her outside, on top of the fuselage where it was an eight-foot drop to the ground. He could see the fire was spreading rapidly along the tail, crawling along fuel and electrical lines, engulfing the chopper.

"Can you jump?"

Sally nodded. He eased her down the side, and she dropped.

"Run!"

"What the hell are you doing staying there?" she screamed from below. "Get off!"

"Ford's in there!"

"It's going to blow-!"

But Tom had turned his attention back into the chopper, where Ford, injured, was trying to climb up the netting to the opening. One of his arms dangled uselessly.

Tom lay on his stomach, reached through the hole, grasped the man's good arm, and hauled him up. Black smoke billowed out in a great wave just as he pulled Ford free and up on top of the fuselage, then slid him to the ground.

"Tom! Get off there!" Sally screamed from below, helping Ford away from the wreck.

"There's still Hitt!"

Smoke was now pouring through the opening. Tom dropped down into it and crouched, finding a layer of fresh air underneath. He crawled toward where he

had last seen Hitt, keeping low. The unconscious soldier lay on his side in the cockpit amid a shower of debris. Waves of heat from the fire scorched his skin. He slid his arms around Hitt's torso and pulled, but the soldier was huge and he couldn't manage it.

There was a muffled thump as something burst into flame inside the fuselage. A wave of heat and smoke rolled over Tom.

"Hitt!" He slapped the man across the face. The man's eyes rolled. He slapped him again, very hard, and the eyes came into focus.

"Get moving! Get out!"

Tom wrapped his arm around the man's neck and heaved him up. Hitt struggled to his knees, shaking his head, droplets of blood dripping from his hair. "Damn . . ."

"Out! We're on fire!"

"Jesus. .."

Hitt finally seemed to be coming back to reality, ready to move under his own power. The smoke was now so thick that Tom could barely see. He felt along the floor, Hitt crawling behind him. An eternity later they reached where the fuselage of the chopper curved upward. He turned, grabbed Hitt's arm, placed his meaty fist on the netting. "Climb!"