Spy (21 page)

H
arry Brock slung his gun over his shoulder and started down the nearly vertical gully that descended beside the waterfall. The narrow muddy ditch ran all the way to the pool at the bottom. The footing was nonexistent but he made it safely down, mostly on his butt, by grabbing at low-hanging branches and exposed roots to ease his rapid descent. He wasn’t entirely successful in slowing his fall and made it to the bottom in no time.

Caparina and Hassan followed right behind. Harry watched the girl and was amazed at how much more graceful she was coming down. It had started to rain again, hard, and that didn’t make things any easier.

When they had all three finally reached the slope’s bottom, Harry cupped his hands and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Yeah, I think this is it all right!”

You had to scream, even though the people you were screaming at were standing only a foot away. They were standing on a rocky ledge at the very bottom of the towering waterfall. The heavy mist made it tough to see more than a foot ahead, and the falling water sounded like God’s drum solo.

“Let’s go inside,” Harry said, edging along the outcropping. Then he left them and disappeared into the swirling mist, pushing through the curtains of white water.

A second later, he had entered the sudden wet stillness at the cave mouth. It was the same one, he saw, the place where he’d hidden. He’d stood right here, terrified, waiting for the dogs to find him. A piece of sheared-off bamboo he’d planned to use as a weapon lay just where he’d left it three weeks earlier. He’d never gotten to use it when they’d burst inside and dragged him away.

Caparina and Hassan waded in, stamping their sloshing boots and wiping the water from their eyes.

“This is it?” Caparina said, hope rising in her voice.

“Definitely,” Harry said, fingering his bamboo shaft. “See? My trusty spear.”

“This way,” Hassan said.

Saladin had wandered off, running his hands over the cave walls. He pulled a rubber-coated flashlight from inside his waistband and clicked it on. Caparina did the same with her own flashlight and Harry followed. Their beams disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, a gentle incline leading away from the mouth.

“The cave is natural,” Saladin said, “the tunnel is not. Hurry.” Harry got the feeling he’d been looking for this place for a very long time.

“Come on, Harry.” Caparina disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel on the heels of her ex-husband.

They were forced to walk single file through the narrow tunnel. Water dripped from above, annoyingly cold when it spattered on your head and ran down your back. They had to stoop, and sometimes crawl, to climb through some sections. Harry guessed they’d ascended a good fifty feet from the entrance, perhaps passing under a river at some point the dripping was so bad.

“A cavern!” he heard Saladin shout from up ahead.

It was the size of a large church. The rock walls soared twenty feet overhead forming a natural dome. The air was so damp and cold you could see your breath in the flashlight beams. Precariously balanced towers of stone, each as big as small cottages rose into the darkness. An underground river, swift and silent, bisected the interior. Brock knelt beside it and plunged his hand into the water. It was a few degrees cooler than the air.

Harry straightened up and stretched for a moment, raising his hands above his head, trying to get the kinks out. He played his flashlight beam on the stone formations overhead.

“You think this is man-made?” he asked Saladin, who was inspecting another connecting tunnel on the far side.

“Not this part, no. But a good deal of this tunnel, yes. Look over here. See where the big grinding bit chewed the rock leading inside the tunnel?”

“Bit?” Harry asked. “This was all bored out? Even Mexican drug smugglers can’t dig tunnels this big.”

Harry knelt and ran his hands over the scarred rock beneath his sandals. He couldn’t really feel any difference in the rock here. But when he shifted his weight to stand, a loose piece of shale six inches long angled up from the cave floor. He bent down again and removed it, uncovering an opening. He stuck his hand down inside without thinking.

“Ow!” Harry said, yanking his right hand out quickly. He felt as if a razor-toothed animal had snapped at him.

Saladin aimed his beam at Harry’s hand. Blisters were already forming on all of his fingertips.

“What the hell?” Harry said. “Something burned me! Christ, that thing’s hot.”

“Thing?” Caparina said, taking a step forward to see. “What thing?”

Hassan now had his flashlight pointed down inside the hole. After a second, he stuck his own hand inside. Then he looked up at Brock and Caparina and smiled. “It’s not hot, it’s cold.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a power line,” Hassan said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Power line? In a cave? How come it’s so cold?”

“It’s a new kind of superconducting cable. Cheap, but very high tech because these things carry five times the electricity of aluminum or copper. Made of a ceramic core surrounded by a sleeve of extremely cold gases. The thermal insulation coating was damaged here, that’s why we found this repair hole.”

“How’d you get so smart?” Harry asked him.

Caparina said, “He’s got his master’s in engineering.”

“That helps. And where in God’s name do you suppose this power line runs to? And, what would you do with all this power out here in the jungle anyway?”

“Let’s find out, Harry Brock. Come on, the cable runs north.”

T
WENTY MINUTES
later, the threesome emerged from a well-disguised hole in the hillside. They stood for a moment, trying to get their bearings in a small patch of sunlight.

“This is it?” Harry said, looking around and unable to hide his disappointment. There was nothing but jungle replicating itself in every conceivable direction.

“That cable doesn’t come all the way out here for nothing,” Caparina said, logically enough. “Let’s keep looking.”

“Get down!” Saladin cried as he dove into the green thicket. “Shit!”

Harry and Caparina instinctively followed him, diving under the thick green foliage.

“What is it?” Harry asked, seeing Hassan’s wide-eyed expression. “What did you see?”

“Up there,” he whispered. He was pointing skyward at a wide hole in the canopy.

“Holy shit,” Harry Brock said. “A drone. What the hell are drones doing out here in the middle of nowhere? There’s nothing to spy on.”

“Oh yes there is,” Saladin said, watching the silent thing approach.

The twelve-foot-long Unmanned Aerial Vehicle, or UAV drone plane, was headed right toward them, skimming the treetops. The fuselage was matte silver, and there were slender red missiles mounted at the wingtips. A single silver bug-eyed camera hung mounted beneath the nose. Harry Brock knew the thing was a late-generation endurance craft. It could probably stay aloft for twenty-four hours or longer.

“Is it looking for us?” Caparina asked, watching the thing approach. “Or,
at
us?”

“Neither,” Saladin said, “it’s coming in for a landing.”

“I think maybe this is it,” Harry said, excited. He pushed a leafy frond aside so he could see beyond the vegetation. “The airstrip.”

“Right,” Saladin said, peering over his shoulder. “Let’s get closer.”

They moved quickly through the jungle and hid in the thick growth alongside the middle section of the airstrip. The tiny aircraft made its final descent, touching down at the far end of the weed-cracked asphalt runway. The drone sped along right past them, slowed, and then accelerated and lifted off.

“What the hell?” Caparina said.

“Touch and go landings,” Harry said. “Whoever’s flying that thing is getting in a little practice.”

“Is the pilot in that little shed?” Caparina asked.

A small corrugated building painted in camo colors was situated at the far end of the runway. Harry borrowed Hassan’s binocs and scoped it out. No movement that he could see behind the dirty windows, no sign of anyone at all. But there was a very odd-looking vehicle parked out on the rain-wet tarmac.

“The UAV’s not looking our way,” Harry said. “Keep well inside the tree line till we’re just opposite the shed. Check weapons.”

Harry checked out the weapon Hassan had given him earlier that morning. It was an interesting gun, a PP-19 Bizon submachine gun with a pistol grip and a folding butt. The gun had a high-capacity ‘helical’mag with 64 rounds. Harry was pretty happy with it. The gun had been made in Russia in the early nineties and was still in use by Spetsnaz and other law enforcement forces. It was comfortable to carry and would provide a lot of firepower.

They checked up opposite the shed, staying low in the undergrowth. There had been no movement and Harry was pretty sure nobody had seen their approach. The UAV was off doing loopy-loops in the wild blue yonder and no current danger to them.

“Okay,” Harry said. “Let’s go. I’m going over there. Then I’m through that door. You two wait here till I give the all clear. Understood?”

They nodded. Harry thumbed his selector switch to full auto fire and sprinted the few hundred yards across open ground to the shed. As he ran full tilt toward the door, he checked out the strange vehicle. It was a small tank, weighed maybe a ton. It was about a fifth the size of an Abrams M-2. Main Battle Tank. No turret, just a video camera pod atop a center periscope mount and twin 7.62mm machine guns front and rear. The single hooded camera lens was pointed away from him now and it stayed that way.

He flattened himself just to the right of the door, catching his breath and listening for any sign of life inside. He imagined the conditions inside would be near intolerable in this baking heat. The windows on either side of the door were filthy and caked with mud. He considered peeking through but decided it wasn’t worth it. His gut told him the shed was empty.

But you never knew. His gut had been wrong a few times.

He stepped back, turned toward the shed, and planted his foot hard in the middle of the door. The force of the kick sent the thin aluminum door flying inward. Harry rushed inside, staying low, gun out front. He saw the door lying on the dirt floor. His eyes were having trouble adjusting to the sudden darkness inside. But he sensed movement.

“Down!” he screamed.

Against the far wall was a long table stacked with electronic equipment. Mounted on brackets above, there were three small monitors displaying black and white aerial views of the canopy. Seated in an old swivel chair, wearing headphones, was a man in fatigues. Harry immediately saw that this one was alone in the dark room. The guy was just starting to swing around. Harry knew he had a gun in his hand before he even saw it.

“Drop the weapon!” Harry barked. “No pistola!”

The guy kept coming around.

“Death wish!” Harry said, low menace in his voice. “I mean it, partner!”

Harry saw the guy’s shaded face in profile and his stubby black gun coming up and he squeezed the Bizon’s trigger. A short deafening burst. The guy, still in his chair, was slammed back into his equipment and then slumped to the floor, sending his empty chair skidding toward Harry. Brock took a few steps forward and stuck his foot under the guy’s shoulder, lifting him up a foot or so, then set him gently back down dead.

He stepped back outside into the blazing sun and made a beckoning motion to Saladin and Caparina. They were already running full speed toward him.

“I thought I told you guys to wait,” Harry said, irritated.

Saladin was all over the pint-sized tank, circling it, inspecting the mud-caked tracks.

“Here’s my question about the deceased gentleman in there,” Harry said, using his bandanna to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “A UAV like the one we saw can stay aloft for about twenty-four hours. He’s got three of them up there. So, what the hell? He’s sitting in there day after day looking at a million square miles of treetops? I don’t think so.”

“Probably right,” Hassan said, over his shoulder. He was kneeling to inspect the tank’s treads.

“So what’s he doing?” Brock said, bending down to inspect the rear-mounted machine guns.

“He’s practicing for flights somewhere else,” Hassan said, “that’s what he’s doing. You can fly these things seven thousand miles away from the target zone.”

“The U.S.?” Caparina said.

“Hey!” Harry said, watching Saladin pawing over the tank. “Stay away from that damn thing. It looks dangerous.”

“One camera and its facing the wrong way,” Saladin said. “The UGV can’t see us.”

“UGV?”

“Unmanned Ground Vehicle. Looks like a new Iranian Zulfiqar UGV,” Hassan said. “Liquid fuel. Called a Troll by the Iranian military, a Tomcat by the Israelis. See the angry red Troll face painted on the flanks? Definitely Iranian.”

“A robotic tank. You’re an engineer. How the hell does it work?”

“This UG’s not a true robot by any scientific definition, because it’s not autonomous. Battlebots like this are run by wireless controllers sitting inside virtual reality video displays, like the guy in there was doing.”