Shell Shocked (20 page)

I had to assume that we hadn't been seen, or at least that anybody who might have seen us had no idea that we posed a risk to the plot. As far as anyone could tell, we were a couple of maintenance men walking through the storm. Together, the four of us had already cleared the explosives from the four biggest, most important buildings. There wasn't time to do any more—it was already twenty minutes after eleven.

“You stay right behind me,” Mr. Granger whispered over his shoulder.

There was no need to tell me again. I felt safer hidden behind him.

“The others should be in position by now,” he said. “Are you ready?”

I nodded.

He pulled out his pistol. I reached into my pocket and
put a hand on my gun. It was reassuring and disturbing at the same time.

He opened the door and we stepped inside and almost bumped into a member of the Veteran Guard, with a rifle on his back.

“Hey, Mr. Granger, what are you doing here this time of—?”

“Put your hands up!” Mr. Granger was aiming his pistol at the guard to back up his demand. The man looked shocked and didn't move.

“Now!” Mr. Granger snapped.

The shocked look remained but he did as he was told. Still aiming his pistol at the guard, Mr. Granger leaned forward and took his rifle, handing it to me.

“I don't … I don't understand what you're doing, sir,” the guard stammered.

“You're McDonald, correct?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Yes, sir, that I am, sir, but you must be mistaken if—”

“Silence!” he hissed. “You can put your hands down. How many people are working in this building tonight?”

“Including me, thirteen.”

“Thirteen … you sound very certain of the number,” Mr. Granger said.

“I am, sir. I was thinking that it was a real unlucky number, sort of like the Last Supper.”

“McDonald, you have family who work here, don't you?”

“Two daughters and my wife, sir.”

“And are they working tonight?” Mr. Granger asked.

“My wife's at home, sir, but both my girls are working the main line … off at midnight, like me, and I'll be walking them home. I always arrange to work the same shift as my girls … they're grown women with children of their own but they're still my girls, and I don't like them to be out alone at night.”

“Very considerate. McDonald, has anybody been acting strangely this evening?”

“Strangely, sir?”

“Different, peculiar, anything out of the usual?”

“I don't know about strange, sir, but Johansen has been telling everybody that he's not feeling good. Said he had to leave early, really upset when the foreman wouldn't let him … they finally agreed he could leave a bit before the end of shift.”

Big surprise there—anybody who knew what was going to happen would sure as heck want to leave early.

“But he's still here?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Should be leaving soon,” Mr. McDonald said.

“George, give this man his rifle back.”

I hesitated for a split second before I realized why he had chosen to trust him—if his daughters were both here
and working, he didn't know anything about the plot to blow up the plant. If he had, they would have been long gone and far away.

“Corporal McDonald,” Mr. Granger began, “we are in the midst of a crisis. It is necessary for us to detain every person in this facility and hold them for questioning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When we get farther in I want you to train your weapon on Johansen.” He turned to me. “George, you are to do the same.”

I nodded.

“If he doesn't comply immediately, if he tries to run, or digs into a pocket like he's searching for a weapon, he is to be shot.”

“Shot?” Corporal McDonald questioned.

“Yes, shot. You will follow that order as if your life, and the lives of your two daughters, depend on it,” Mr. Granger said. “Because, Corporal, they
do
depend on it. Where are the workers?”

“All inside the storage vault.”

“Lead the way.”

The Corporal opened up a sliding metal door that opened onto a large room where row after row, shelf after shelf were filled with shells and bombs. It was an incredible sight. Visible among the shells were seven or eight women and two men.

“That man, over there,” Corporal McDonald said, pointing, “that's Johansen.”

“George, you stay at the door. Remember, nobody passes.”

Mr. Granger walked in, pistol at the ready, and the Corporal followed right behind. He walked up to the group of people that included Johansen. I didn't hear what he said, but I saw them all raise their hands into the air. They moved in my direction, with their hands still raised, the Corporal behind them, rifle at the ready.

“Up against the wall,” Corporal McDonald said to them, “and keep your hands up where they can be seen.”

People looked confused and scared. Johansen looked particularly scared. I would have been too, if I were him and knew what was going to happen.

Mr. Granger came toward us. He had three more people—two women and a man—also with their hands up.

I did a quick count. We had nine, and he was bringing three more, so that was thirteen including the Corporal. The last three joined the first group against the wall, hands in the air.

“Corporal, there are two men, one rather young and the other somewhat older, guarding the back and side doors from the outside. They are wearing coats similar to ours. Please inform them that the building has been secured and they are to come inside now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Granger turned his attention to the people standing in front of us. Some looked concerned, others angry, and two of the younger women seemed almost amused. Johansen was shifting from foot to foot and he appeared to be sweating.

“I'm sorry for having to treat you all like this,” Mr. Granger began, “but we are in the middle of a difficult situation. I'm afraid you will have to be detained, here in this building, until we can complete our investigation. You should be freed by one or two in the morning at the latest.”

There was a chorus of groans and complaints.

“I cannot wait that long!” Johansen protested.

Instantly I knew what Mr. Granger had done. Anybody who knew that the explosives would go off at twelve would now be desperate to leave.

“I'm afraid you have no choice,” Mr. Granger said.

“But I am sick … very sick … I think it is my appendix … I need to see a doctor. Maybe you could come and question me there at the hospital.”

A small smile came to Mr. Granger's face. “That won't be necessary. I'll do a medical examination right here.”

He walked toward Johansen and placed the gun right against his temple. He ran his free hand under the man's jacket and—

“I think I found the source of the pain in your side.”

He removed a pistol—it looked identical to the one I was holding, the one I'd taken from Juliette.

“That is for my protection,” Johansen protested. “This is a dangerous place and I work into the evening and go home alone in the middle of the—”

“Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you, you filthy spy!” Mr. Granger snapped. “I should put a bullet into your head right now and be done with it.”

Johansen stopped talking. Judging by his expression, he was pretty sure that Mr. Granger would follow through with his threat. But Mr. Granger took the gun away from his temple and stepped back. Johansen wasn't the only one who was relieved.

Jack and Mr. McGregor appeared now, along with Corporal McDonald.

“Corporal McDonald, we have caught a spy. Your suspicions about Johansen were correct.”

The Corporal looked pleased.

“Unfortunately, there may be more than one spy in this group. We don't have time to check and we can't risk being wrong. You must hold all of them here until you receive further notice.”

“But we can't stay here!” Johansen protested. “We have to leave … the explosives will kill us all!”

“Explosives? What is he blathering about?” one of the women asked.

“There are explosives, here, under the building, and they are to go off at midnight and—”

“We will remove those explosives,” Mr. Granger said, cutting him off. “You will be safe here.”

“Are you going to remove
all
of the explosives from
all
of the buildings?” Johansen asked. He sounded panicked. “We must leave the facility … get off the grounds or we will die!” he screamed.

“One more word and you'll be dead
now
.” Mr. Granger pushed the pistol against his temple one more time.

“Everyone, listen. We are going to remove the explosives from beneath this building. Once they are removed, you are safe. The walls of this structure are made of reinforced concrete and will protect you from any explosions. But there will be no explosions. We're going to stop them from happening.”

Mr. Granger stepped back. “Corporal McDonald, you are in charge. If any of them attempts to escape you are ordered to shoot them. And if he even
speaks
again,” he said, pointing at Johansen, “you are
ordered
to put a bullet between his eyes.”

JACK REACHED DOWN
and pulled the wires out of the clump of explosive. Without an electrical impulse to detonate it, it was harmless. This building and the people in it were now safe. It was strange that the building that held the most explosives was the safest place to be. It was the people
leaving
the building who weren't so safe.

Jack went to climb down into the service corridor. I grabbed him by the arm.

“Let me go down first,” I said.

He hesitated.

“I'm smaller, Jack.”

“No question about that—you're downright puny.”

I smiled. It was somehow reassuring to have Jack make fun of me.

“I can move faster. And if you go down first and get stuck, I won't be able to get past you,” I explained.

He bowed from the waist. “By all means, ladies first.”

“It takes one to know one,” I snapped.

“Well at least I'm not—” He smiled. “We don't have time for this now, but later, I'm going to lay a beating on you.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just for old times' sake.”

“Well, as long as you have a good reason.”

Both of us took off our coats. It was a tight fit, and the coats were only going to get in the way. Besides, we weren't going to need them. The rest of the way was going to be inside—inside the service corridor from this building to the steam plant. I reached into the pocket of my coat and removed the pistol and the wire cutters. I would need the wire cutters. I hoped I wouldn't need the gun.

I climbed through the trap door, squeezed past the pipes and dropped down to the bottom of the corridor. Jack squeezed through until he was lying down behind me. It felt good to know he was right there.

“It's now twenty minutes to twelve,” Mr. Granger said from above. “You have fifteen minutes to get into position. Can you do it?”

“We can do it.”

“I wish there were some way that either myself or Mr. McGregor could go with you.”

“So do I,” I admitted. “But that's not an option. We'll do our job.”

“If anybody can, it's you two. By the time you get to the steam plant the building should be deserted.”

“I wish we could be sure of that,” I said.

“We're as sure as we can be. Would you blow up the building with yourself inside it?” Mr. Granger asked.

Of course he was right. They'd probably run the last set of wires out of the steam plant and somewhere into the field, so they could detonate the explosion from far enough away to have a chance of surviving it. The problem was, with all the snow, the wires would be hidden. The ringleaders would be somewhere outside, hidden by the snow, watching to make sure nobody came too close to the wires that ran across the field. By going through the service corridor, we'd stay invisible, and we could cut the wires from the inside.

“There's probably a five-minute window,” Mr. Granger said, repeating what we'd already talked about.

The enemy agents we'd captured had all said the same thing—they were to leave the buildings by ten to twelve. That probably meant that the men who were going to detonate the charges would do the same. If we got into the steam plant right after they left, we'd be alone—we'd be able to disconnect the charges inside, find the wires leading out and cut them.

“We'll be covering you from outside the building,” Mr. Granger said.

“Anybody tries to get in, they get a pill in the head,” Mr. McGregor added.

“A pill?”

“A bullet,” he said, touching a spot between his eyes.

Mr. Granger lowered the trap door, throwing us into darkness. I turned on my flashlight and the first hundred feet of the service corridor became brightly lit. Beyond that it was still hidden in darkness.

“Turn your flashlight off.”

“What?”

“Turn off your flashlight. We'll use mine only and I'll aim it a bit in front of you and not so far down the tunnel. We don't want the light to warn anybody up ahead that we're coming.”

“Oh, sure … that makes sense.”

I turned off my light, and for a split second we were thrown into complete darkness before Jack turned his on. I felt an instant rush of panic followed by a wave of relief.

“Start moving,” Jack said.

The light spread out a dozen feet in front of me. I started moving, using my elbows to propel me, my body dragging behind. As Jack moved, the light bounced up and down, sometimes blocked by my body. I kept one hand on the wire, pulling it down as I pulled myself forward. The
light and the wire were leading me to where I had to go. The hissing of the pipes above our heads was the only sound, and it muffled the noise of us moving along.