Dark Rising (6 page)

The young man came with a few other ‘tools of the trade’ as well, including an upgraded M24 long-gun variant sniper rifle with his own modifications – longer receiver, detachable sight on a raised rail with maximum sound suppression. It also took a more powerful .338 Lapua magnum cartridge – accurate to 5000 feet with enormous penetration power. A beautiful and deadly precision weapon. When Alex had asked Hex about his accuracy, he’d replied that he could split Alex’s thumb at a mile. After the knife demonstration, Alex had believed him.

First Lieutenant Sam Reid, older than the others by a few years, was an electronics expert who exuded confidence and was as laidback as they came. Hammerson had personally selected Reid for HAWC training – he was a Ranger,75th Regiment. Sam – ‘Uncle’ to his friends – was the best man on the planet for military strategy and red zone logistics, and had an IQ of 160 that put him into Mensa territory – brains as well as brawn. After Alex’s accident, his problem-solving abilities and mental acuity had become vastly superior to most men, but First Lieutenant Sam Reid was in a league of his own.

Then Alex turned to the two new men. ‘I’m Captain Alex Hunter,’ he told them, and asked for their rank and military history.

The man on the left of the line stepped forward first. He was the shortest of the group, standing at around five feet seven inches in his boots, but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in breadth – he had a barrel chest and arms like a bear. Alex also noticed his hands were extraordinarily rough and callused.

‘Second Lieutenant Rocky Lagudi,’ the man said, and saluted.

Alex grabbed the man’s hand, turned it over and looked at it.
Deadly
, he thought. ‘Black belt?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir. Shotokan Karate 8th dan Master. Also Zen Doh Kai, 7th dan.’

All Special Forces personnel were proficient in lethal and non-lethal hand-to-hand combat methods, but Zen Doh Kai was a martial art that used deadly hard-edge striking. Alex had witnessed some full-contact bouts and it had been like watching bare-knuckle cage fighting for masochists.

Lieutenant Lagudi tried to turn his hand back over, but Alex held it – a subtle but effective test of will and strength. Rocky tried again, exerting all his strength this time, but his hand might as well have been trapped in a steel vice for all the give he got from Alex’s single-handed grip. Alex could easily have pulverised the stocky lieutenant’s fingers and all his metacarpal bones, but released instead.
Okay
, he thought,
perhaps you’ll be the one today
.

‘Carry on, Lieutenant,’ he said, and listened to Lagudi’s overview of the various combat assignments he’d taken part in and his background in the Green Berets. Seemed Lagudi was the battering ram, the first man over the top.
Good
, thought Alex,
a brave heart in that huge chest. I can use him.

Second Lieutenant Francis O’Riordan looked as Irish as they came, with his close-cropped startlingly orange hair and his pale skin. When he opened his mouth though, his accent was pure Bronx, every statement ending with a stab that made it sound like a question or a challenge. ‘Irish’ O’Riordan was from Special Forces Alpha, specialised in chemical engineering, and was proficient in explosive device construction, placement and disposal. The rumour was he could create a bomb from the contents of the average refrigerator.

Alex had read the man’s report. His previous Alpha team had been the best squad going – until they got blown to pieces. Irish had come home on a stretcher; the rest of his unit were spread over a hundred feet of steaming jungle. In the debrief, Irish had stated that Captain Dianne Chambers had ignored advice from her team and run them into hell – a claymore web: one way in, no way out. Follow-up psych sessions detailed a simmering anger against female authority, but also said O’Riordan was fit for duty. To date, he had continued to excel. Alex could see a mote of hostility in the man’s eyes now.
Anger is okay; controlling it is the key
, he thought.
Time for a little push
.

‘Where do you call home, Lieutenant O’Riordan? Riverdale, Throggs Neck?’ he asked.

Alex knew a little about the Bronx as he had spent some time at Fort Hamilton in New York. Though the Bronx was one of the most populous areas in the United States, and some of those areas were the toughest in the country, parts of it were fast becoming gentrified and Riverdale and Throggs Neck were two suburbs that were now more movie star than ‘gangsta’ turf. Alex heard a slight snigger from the other men at the question.

O’Riordan’s eyes slid to Alex and narrowed for a second before he went back to staring straight ahead. ‘Nah, sir. Born and raised in South Bronx just down from Fordham. Born and bred there, but it ain’t my home now; ain’t never goin’ back.’

It was a tough area – primarily Hispanic, African-American and Italian. A kid with red hair would stand out like crap on a snow cake – Irish would have had to do a lot of fighting growing up.

Alex stared directly into the man’s face as he said, ‘Put too much cream in your coffee, did they? Had some bad sushi at your last poetry reading, Lieutenant?’

O’Riordan’s jaw muscles worked and his eyes burned as they stared into Alex’s face. Alex could tell that it was only his army discipline keeping him in check. After a few more seconds he straightened. ‘Nothin’ to go back to. Some asshole bein’ transported to Rikers broke outta custody and tried to drag my dad outta his car at a stop light. Well, my dad, he was one of the last of the red Irish rhinos, he wouldn’t give in for nothin’. Even though that car was a pile of crap, he weren’t givin’ it up to some asshole car thief. Got a face full of lead for his trouble, and Ma took two in the gut. Nothin’ there for me anymore; army’s home now . . . sir
.
’

Alex looked hard into the man’s face for a few seconds more, nodded once and turned away.
Hmm, a lot of anger there that’s going to need to be channelled
, he thought. He’d read O’Riordan’s psych report again just to ensure this guy wasn’t going to explode under pressure. Still, he figured they were good to go for the induction. There was just one more thing.

‘All right, you new soldiers, this is the Hot-zone All-Forces Warfare Commandos and we are the best on this planet. The pay’s no better, there are no fast cars, no cheer squads – in fact, as far as Mr Joe Citizen is concerned, we don’t even exist. Our casualty rate is higher than any other Special Forces unit in the United States, and if you’re ever captured – well, like I said, we don’t exist. But what I can guarantee you is access to the best weaponry, intelligence and training the army has to offer. And if you like a challenge – well, you’ll find yourself being challenged like at no other time in your life. As a HAWC, you don’t just save lives, you save countries.’

Alex paused and looked at the two new men. Rocky Lagudi’s face was serious, but Irish O’Riordan seemed to be barely holding a smirk in check.

Alex spoke directly to the redheaded man. ‘This is your opportunity to speak your mind – to ask me questions, ask your fellow HAWCs questions. There may not be a better time, or any other time. Things happen fast in this outfit.’

He waited for a few seconds, and when both men maintained their silence he continued. ‘Most of the year you’ll be in training. You will learn new skills, use new weapons and technologies, and you will be tested time and time again in drill missions across various terrains and hostile environments. Just because you’re in the HAWCs doesn’t mean you have a right to stay in the HAWCs.’

Alex saw Sam Reid give a half-smile. He and Hex had been through the tests and knew what they entailed.

‘And then there are the live operations,’ Alex went on. ‘Arduous, dangerous projects that no one else wants and no one else could succeed at. Projects that are given to us because we are the deadliest, most feared unit on the entire planet.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Gentlemen, listen up. We are about to take on just such a project.’

NINE

A
hmad Al Janaddi tried hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. It was the first time he had been called to appear personally before the president and his future could very well hang on his performance. It didn’t help that the men in charge of the Iranian military, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard and the intelligence and security services were also present, along with the leader of the Islamic Guardian Council, a group of elders charged with ensuring that all the Republic’s decisions adhered to the path of Islam.

Al Janaddi was the newly promoted leading scientist at the Jamshid II site, and it was his task to inform the group about the recent ‘anomaly’ at the Jamshid I site at Persepolis. He drew in a short breath and looked briefly at the faces staring back at him. President Moshaddam appeared to be listening patiently, but may just as easily have been bored by all the technical details.

The only face that was truly engaged was that of Parvid Davoodi, the vice-president. The complete opposite of the president, Davoodi was well educated and an economist by training – and his liberal perspective, based on his studies of modern economic theory and the free market often brought him into conflict with his more hard-line colleagues and his president. Unlike Moshaddam, Davoodi was for open dialogue with the West. He’d spent some of his early life in America and held a PhD in Economics from Iowa State University; like a lot of moderate Iranians, he didn’t see the West as evil, just different.

Al Janaddi continued with his report. ‘All the Persepolis material that was transferred to our Jamshid II complex has been reviewed many times and we believe we have an understanding of what caused the destruction of the primary site. In essence, the modifications to the laser-enrichment sphere made by the German scientist Hoeckler had an unexpected side effect. Due to his radical design and choice of laser, the high-speed molecule collisions were a lot faster and contained a lot more energy. In effect, his design did more than just split the atoms from their molecules; he actually caused them to crash into each other at the speed of light. Hoeckler’s sphere became a miniature particle collider.’ Al Janaddi paused, but no one except for Davoodi seemed interested. He tried again. ‘We believe we created a miniature black hole within the sphere.’

Davoodi sat forward. ‘You think that was the source of the gamma rays, not just a fissionable accident?’ he asked.

Al Janaddi knew the vice-president had an amateur interest in astronomy. ‘Yes,
Agha-ye
, Vice-President, we believe the data is undeniable here. If it were a leakage there would be continuing radiation in the mega-sievert range. But there was no heat, no explosion – just a form of . . . implosion. The gamma anomaly held its form for point-zero-two nanoseconds before evaporating and collapsing back into itself, taking with it everything within a 500 foot radius. Allah be praised that this was so, as it drew its own gamma radiation flash back in. There is barely any residual radiation left; the facility’s structural design contained most of the deadly particle emissions and the implosion digested the rest.’

The scientist chose his words carefully. Though the Jamshid I site at Persepolis had been under the governance of his former colleague Mahmud Shihab, it was still quite possible that he could be arrested for being associated with the destruction of the property of the Islamic Republic of Iran, which carried an immediate death sentence. He felt the dead eyes of Mohammed Bhakazarri, Chief Commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard, slide across him. He swallowed and continued.

‘Let me show you the data feeds of the last few minutes prior to the anomaly in the facility.’ Al Janaddi opened a large flat laptop computer and called up the movie display software, selected the appropriate time slice and pressed play. ‘What you are seeing now is the laboratory floor – the uranium-enrichment sphere is the globe in the centre of the room.’

The screen showed many scientists and engineers in the lab. As the lights dimmed, they pulled visors down over their eyes and turned to face the sphere. The sphere seemed to glow as the room darkened around it, and then, for just a few seconds, the room filled with white streaks before everything went black. A dreadful howling sound made even the viewers widen their eyes and grip their chair rails. Al Janaddi slowed the footage to a frame-by-frame perspective. Even so, the speed of events was rapid and it was difficult to understand what they were actually seeing. All of the personnel in the lab seemed to blur and warp, stretching towards the sphere as if they were made of elastic. The slowed-down howl sounded almost musical now, like a large brass horn.

Al Janaddi halted the display and enlarged a small section, showing the faces of the scientists in detail. Most showed expressions of surprise, but among them there were also fear and agony. Then they were gone.

‘Gamma radiation within the facility spiked at eight thousand sieverts,’ Al Janaddi explained quietly. ‘That’s almost incineration wavelength. Further away from the sphere, the concrete and lead panelling shielded the pulse shock wave somewhat, but we know it travelled beyond the facility. There is no significant radiation at the site now; in fact, nothing much above normal. It was there, and now it’s gone.’

Davoodi spoke again, slowly. ‘Are there any survivors? Have the bodies been retrieved and blessed?’

‘There are no survivors, but . . .’ Al Janaddi licked his lips as he gathered his thoughts. ‘We believe we have recovered the remains of Mahmud Shihab, the lead scientist of the facility. But at this point we’re not one hundred per cent sure if –’

The president unfolded his arms and narrowed his eyes at the scientist. ‘Tell us what you have, Professor. Everything – quickly.’ Though the tone was even, Al Janaddi could feel the underlying warning to be absolutely candid.

‘Yes, my President. Please appreciate there is much we still do not fully comprehend, and we need many more tests for final confirmation, but a body . . . er, a partial body, was shipped to us this morning. We believe it is Dr Shihab, but identification was possible only from the security tag found on a pocket and a partial thumbprint from the left hand.’