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A collapsible covered walkway extended from Trailer B and connected directly into the autopsy room of Trailer A. That way they only needed one decontamination area to access the airtight areas of both trailers. Gitsh and Marcus were in the process of connecting the accordion-like walkway.

Dew liked those guys. Marcus was the kind you’d want by your side in a firefight. Gitsh not so much, but he always had a smile and a laugh, and on a long, isolated a.s.signment that was just as important as being able to shoot straight. Dew checked his watch—the connection process usually took them ten minutes. Now it was eleven and counting. He’d give them some s.h.i.+t about that later.

Gitsh opened the door to the computer center. Dew got out of his Lincoln, braving the rain once more to dart inside. He sat down at one of the computers, typed in his user name and pa.s.sword, then spread out the blood-smeared map on top of the keyboard. He grabbed the secure phone and punched in a memorized number. He still found it odd that he could dial Colonel Charlie Ogden in the middle of a field engagement and get him every time. The wonders of a high-tech army.

“Company X, this is Corporal Cope.”

“Dew Phillips. Get me Ogden.”

“Right away, sir.”

Dew waited. He held the phone with his right hand while the fingertips of his left traced an as-the-crow-flies line from South Bloomingville, Ohio, to Glidden, Wisconsin. About six hundred miles. Project Tangram had several V-22 Ospreys at their disposal. The Ospreys were perfect for their needs. They could take off and land anywhere, no runway required, courtesy of a helicopter engine on each wing. Once in the air, those engines slowly tilted forward, and the helicopter became a twin-turboprop plane. Seeing as each Osprey could carry up to twenty-four soldiers and do about three hundred miles an hour, they were invaluable for moving Ogden’s troops from Point A to Point B. In a real logistical pinch, the Ospreys could even haul the MargoMobile trailers, one trailer per bird.

“Ogden here,” said the familiar voice. “What have you got for me?”

“You first,” Dew said. “Did you take out the construct?”

“Would I be talking to you if I hadn’t?”

Dew shook his head. Charlie Ogden wasn’t much for pleasantries.

“We’ve got something else,” Dew said. “Punch in Marinesco, Michigan, on whatever fancy map computer you’ve got there.”

Ogden barked an order to his staff.

“Got it,” Ogden said.

“We found another construct there.”

There was a brief pause. “Okay, things make more sense now.”

“How long till you can be there, Charlie?”

“We’ve got our Ospreys close by. With midair refueling . . . maybe two and a half hours.”

“What about the two companies still at Fort Bragg?”

“I can send them now, but they don’t have Ospreys and they’re too far away for helicopters. We could get them on C-17s and drop them right in near the zone. Say thirty minutes to get wheels up, ninety minutes to fly and jump, fifteen minutes for them to gather and move in. Either way we’re looking at two and a half hours best case, three hours more likely. You got pictures of this thing?”

“We’re bringing satellites online now,” Dew said. “We should have something any moment. I told the squints to send you pictures as soon as we get them.”