Part 30 (1/2)

An abrupt blast of turbulence swatted him. Spinning around, his feet jerked up in the air and he hit the ground wrong, staggering, the wind again catching him and threatening to drag him against the unyielding wall of stone rearing up above the snow line. Frantically yanking his control lines, he leaned into the direction of the wind, reaching up to unbuckle his chute just as his boots neared the ground. With a sharp crack the canopy went streaming off behind a crag of limestone and was whipped away into the night. He hit the s...o...b..nk with his shoulder blades, the breath exploding from his lungs.

Her helmet off, April trudged up and stood over him. ”See? I told you could do it.”

He shot her a sour look and got to his feet. Together they collected the wingpacks, stas.h.i.+ng them in the shelter of an outcropping of boulders after unpacking the weapons.

”Did you see that satellite dish on top?” she asked him.

Stripping out of the thermal suit, he nodded. His breath plumed in the zero-degree air. Like April, underneath the suit he was wearing jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt for easy mobility. His body shook with the cold. The freezing temperature didn't seem to bother her at all.

”Okay. I'm going to plant a C-4 charge up there and then I'll meet you at the loading platform.”

She shrugged into her tactical vest and vanished into the darkness.

Putting on his own vest, Skarda slung the Barrett over his shoulder and made his way down the slope, picking his path carefully to avoid setting off rock falls. On his right, he could see the formidable outer walls of the fortress, deep within the shadows of the huge spires that towered over it. There was no path here, just slabs and ridges of rock that jutted on top of one another to form a series of shelves strewn with broken limestone.

Pressing his fingers against a rock face, he crawled toward the edge of a squarish boulder and looked down. Below him the Chinook's landing pad jutted straight out from an open hangar door hewn out of the side of the mountain, the snow painted yellow with warm light from the interior. He could see no workers or crew members and could hear no voices. Planting his feet and hands with calculated caution, he worked his way lower until he could drop down on a flat table of stone just above the platform. The wind tore at thinnest parts of his clothing. Snow, whipped by an increasing wind, stung his face. He looked down, calculating the distance. A few inches off and he would be tumbling down the side of the mountain, his bones snapping like tree branches.

Swinging his arms back, he jumped. He hit hard on his shoulder, rolling through a crust of snow, a jolt of pain lancing through his deltoid muscle. In a flash he rose to a crouch, s.n.a.t.c.hing out the Sig Sauer, his heart hammering loud in his ears. For several long moments he waited, listening, but heard no running feet or shouts of discovery.

Thankfully, it was warmer here. A gush of heated air from the interior flowed out of the open door, covering him like a warm blanket. But he couldn't control his s.h.i.+vering and he had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering. He looked over at the Chinook, its twin rotor blades drooping as it squatted on the helipad. Up close, the thing was huge.

A sound from above made him snap his head up. His gun hand whipped up, locking into firing position. A rope snaked from the darkness of the high rocks and April rappelled down, landing next to him. She dropped to a crouch.

From her pack she pulled out a remote detonator and held it up. ”As soon as we get Flinders,” she whispered. Crab-walking forward, she inched her head around the edge of the hangar door. She turned back. ”Anybody around?”

He shook his head.

”Okay. Let's move out.”

Crouching low, they raced into the storeroom. Skarda gave a quick glance around. The chamber had been fas.h.i.+oned out of solid rock into a gigantic, upside-down U-shaped s.p.a.ce at least two hundred feet long. Wooden crates and corrugated boxes lined the walls, along with pallets of more stacked boxes. Three fork lifts sat parked in a neat row. On the north wall tiers of heavy steel shelving held more supplies. Clearly the Atlanteans were preparing for a long siege.

April came to an open doorway, motioning Skarda to stop. The opening led to a long corridor, lit by soft overhead lamps, and from it, he could hear the m.u.f.fled sound of voices, moving closer. She darted forward and he followed, ducking into a side room a few feet down the length of the corridor.

They waited. Men's voices came closer, speaking in Russian. Skarda glimpsed them as they walked past: two men in pale red jumpsuits, apparently arguing back and forth, each trying to establish his point.

The voices grew faint. Stepping out into the corridor, April led the way toward another open door at the far end. So far Skarda hadn't seen any closed doors or locks, but then there would be no need for security in an una.s.sailable compound where everyone was an ally.

Especially when, in a very short time, all potential enemies would be dead or dying.

April stopped at another door, snapping a glance inside. ”Kitchen,” she said in a whisper. Sticking his head through the opening, Skarda saw a hotel-sized kitchen, empty, its gleaming stainless-steel work surfaces gleaming dully in the low light.

She glanced at him. ”I'm guessing the floor we're on is residential. Which probably means the command center is above us, under the satellite dish, and probably below us there are more storage areas, generators, water, furnace, and mechanical. If worse comes to worse, we can always blow some of these. For now, I think we should split up. You stay on this level and look for Flinders. Odds are she'll be behind a locked door. I'll go up and check out the layout of the command center. We're going to need to find a way to shut it down.”

Nodding, Skarda took out his Stealth and glanced at the screen: seventy-seven minutes until the laser fired.

SIXTY.

Gulf of Mexico CANDY MAN scratched his greasy hair and consulted the NOAA weather map of the Arctic Circle. The storm had almost blown itself out and the cloud cover was beginning to dissipate.

He glanced at a time read-out. 1617 UTC. Seventy-two minutes to go.

Tapping a key, he glanced at his pa.s.sword cracking program, running through a billion possibilities a second. Even with a Cla.s.s F attack, it was going to take a long time.

And time was what he didn't have.

SIXTY-ONE.

Mount Tavrida ON the fifteenth try, Rachel got lucky. With a soft click the electronic bolt slid back.

Easing open the door, she peeked out into the corridor.

Empty.

Pulling the door shut behind her, she stepped out and took off running.

___.

April's guess turned out to be right. Following the line of corridors, Skarda entered a long hallway with closed doors on each side of the aisle, like the rooms of a hotel. Residential apartments, probably for the soldiers and crew manning the fortress. He hurried along, looking for doors with locks, but saw none. For a moment he considered opening a few of the doors, but decided against it. The risk of discovery was too great.

The corridor took a sharp turn to the left and he followed it, seeing nothing but more closed doors. At the end of the hallway, a doorway opened onto a flight of stone steps leading downward.

Without hesitation, he disappeared through the opening.

___.

Finding a stairway, April took the steps two at a time, the Barrett steady in her grip. A landing led to an open doorway. Through it she could hear the murmur of voices. She peeked out, seeing that she was at an entrance to what looked like a huge hall with a frescoed vaulted ceiling and rows of marble columns. Two soldiers carrying AK-47's stood about thirty feet from her position, talking in low tones.

Three minutes ticked past before the men moved away. When they had gone, she crept out into the hall, her boots making no noise on the marble floor. On both ends of the hall wide doorways opened onto corridors. She chose the western approach, because that was where she had seen the satellite dish outside.

Padding closer, she pressed her back against the wall, then dropped to a crouch, poking her head around the edge of the door frame. The intersecting corridor was a T, running north and south. To her right, another open doorway spilled light onto the polished floor. She could hear voices. She moved closer.

A quick glance inside confirmed her guess: computer stations, an array of video displays, guards with rifles. Tomilin sat at one of the consoles, his face turned to a tall man she'd never seen.

The command center.

___.

Jaz listened to the electronic lock click shut, imprisoning Flinders inside the room. Later she'd come back for a good romp with cutie, but for now she had other plans. The look on Belisarius' face had told her exactly what he wanted.

Glancing both ways along the dimly-lit corridor, she padded toward a storeroom she'd noticed earlier: an a.r.s.enal.

Stepping through the doorway, she snapped on the lights and grinned savagely. Here were stacked crates of rifles, grenades, grenade launchers, pistols, blocks of C-4, M72 LAWs, ammo, and armored vests. With both hands she pried open one of the rifle crates, her eyes lighting up as she saw ten AK-47's nestled end-to-end on mustard-colored desiccant paper.

Reaching down, she picked one up, inhaling the greasy scent of gun oil.