The Ark: A Novel (32 page)

The General was the only person who insisted on using Locke's military rank after he resigned his commission. It probably was also a message to the others in the room that his son was an officer.

"General," Locke said, taking the General's granite grip and returning it hard, "please return the favor for me."

The General nodded at Grant and shook his hand perfunctorily. Locke and his father silently appraised each other, neither revealing anything beyond a blank stare.

"I bet it took a lot for you to call me," the General said his son.

Locke ignored the dig. "You saw the report from the CDC?"

"I've warned Ft. Detrick and the FBI for years that computers and private labs would eventually put dangerous bioweapons in the hands of non-governmental actors. They were concerned about anthrax and smallpox, but I knew it was a matter of time before we saw something worse, and now it looks like we have."

General Locke was in charge of the military's Defense Threat Reduction Agency, which was responsible for countering weapons of mass destruction. His 35 years in the Air Force had made him one of the best-connected and most respected officers. His position allowed him to be involved in practically any operation he wanted, especially when units were testing out new weaponry in the battlefield.

A full bird colonel approached and quietly asked the General a question. The General answered and the colonel responded with a smart, "Yes, sir!"

Locke had been around his father during parties with other officers, but he'd never seen the General in a command situation before. Despite everything, he felt a certain amount of pride seeing his father in charge.

"General," Locke said, "the people who deployed the bioagent on Hayden's airplane tried the same thing on the Genesis Dawn. I'm sure they'll make another attempt soon."

"And you claim that Sebastian Garrett is behind this?"

"Yes, sir," Locke said, marveling at how quickly he felt himself becoming an Army officer again in his father's presence. "We have evidence that Sebastian Garrett is responsible. He owns one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country, and he's an expert in biochemistry. He also has the financial resources to build Oasis."

"This bunker you think he has."

Locke told the General about Project Oasis's connection to John Coleman and how Locke had briefly worked on the project when it was called Whirlwind.

"If they didn't substantially change the design specs from the ones I saw," Locke said, "we're talking about a bunker that would rival Mt. Weather. It could easily keep 300 people alive and comfortable during the time it took for this prion agent to kill the rest of the world's population and then disperse."

The General paused as if he were deciding what to say to them next. He took Grant and Locke aside out of earshot of the nearest technician and lowered his voice.

"What I'm about to tell you is highly classified," he said. "I believe you. I believe you because we've had Garrett under investigation for two years."

Locke and Grant looked at each other in surprise.

"What?" Grant said a little too loudly. He quieted his voice and went on. "Why? Garrett not pay his taxes?"

"Someone's been hiring away some of the best bioweapon designers in the country from various subcontractors that were working with USAMRIID at Ft. Detrick. At first, we thought they were being lured by more money at private pharma firms. But when the numbers got larger, we started to investigate. We speculate they were promised work on other defense projects in biowarfare by entities claiming to represent secret government projects. Of course, these companies weren't under contract to the Defense Department, but the people they recruited didn't know that."

"Sounds like the trick used on me with Project Whirlwind," Locke said.

"When we dug deeper, we found some tenuous links to Sebastian Garrett, but we could never prove it."

"Was one of these scientists named Sam Watson?"

"Yes. He died of a heart attack last week."

"No," Locke said. "He was poisoned." Finally something his father didn't already know.

The General narrowed his eyes. "How can you be sure?"

"Because the person who was with him at the time, an archaeologist named Dilara Kenner, came to see me two days later and told me he was poisoned."

"Where is she now?"

"Sebastian Garrett has her," Locke said, disgusted at the thought of her at Garrett's mercy. "She was abducted while I was chasing that rogue FBI agent. We need to get her back."

The General gave a dismissive wave. "She can't tell him anything. Don't worry about it."

"I will worry about it," Locke said heatedly. "She's my responsibility."

The General put his index finger on Locke's chest. "What you should be worried about is that Garrett will be on alert now, which puts our plans in jeopardy. We're attempting an assault on their compound tonight."

"You mean on Orcas Island?"

The General nodded. "We did some checking on your guess that his facility on Orcas is where the bunker is located. The FBI found a record of earthmoving equipment leased for use on his property. The only problem is, if there is a bunker there, there should have been a substantial amount of earth removed, and state records show no permits for that kind of disposal. We still haven't figured out what happened to the dirt."

"It's still there," Locke said.

"Where?"

"Inside those hangars. I did some calculations. Based on the size of the bunker, those hangars could easily hold the dirt and rock that was excavated."

"You're sure?"

"It's the only thing that fits."

"Well, we're going to make sure tonight," the General said.

"How?"

"We're going to infiltrate the compound. Once our ground-penetrating radar is on site, we can verify that there are underground chambers there. We've already checked his other labs. This prion agent wasn't found in any of them. It must be underground."

"How are you assaulting the lab?"

"With a full platoon of Delta Force. The compound is heavily guarded. It might be impossible to get in, so we have a backup plan. We either have to secure the agent for ourselves, or we need to destroy it before it's released."

"What about Dilara?"

"She's not a mission priority."

"Then I'm going with the team," Locke said.

The General glowered at him. "The hell you are."

"What's your intel on the internal bunker schematics?"

"We don't have any," the General said grudgingly.

"You're going in blind?"

"We don't have any other choice."

"Yes, you do. I saw the original specs. I know how they designed and built the bunker."

The General looked up at the ceiling as if searching for some other alternative. Locke knew there was none.

"Dad, you know that for this mission to have any chance, I need to be on the ground with them."

"And if he's going," Grant said, "I'm going."

"You don't have to do that," Locke said.

"Have I ever volunteered for something I didn't want to do?"

"Only if you thought you'd get laid as a result."

Grant smiled. "No chance of that here."

"Okay, enough!" the General growled. "Against my better judgment, you're both going. Tyler's got the expertise we need, which is the reason I invited you here in the first place."

"For what?" Locke asked.

Someone in the trailer called out, "One minute to release."

"Have you heard of MOP?"

"The Massive Ordnance Penetrator?" Locke recalled it from an article in the International Journal of Propellants, Explosives, and Pyrotechnics.

"That's right. Boeing has been developing it for us specifically to target underground bunkers holding weapons of mass destruction. I never thought we'd use it on our own soil. We're doing final testing today. If it succeeds, I've been authorized to use it to take out Oasis."

"You mean, that's your backup plan, sir?" Grant said.

"If we can't get in and neutralize it by conventional means, yes." The General turned back to Locke. "So my question for you, Captain, is will it work?"

Locke recalled the specs on the bomb. At 20 feet long and 30,000 pounds, it was heavier than the infamous MOAB, the Massive Ordnance Air Burst bomb, and could destroy bunkers that were up to 200 feet below ground.

Locke was aghast. "There are 300 men and women in that bunker," he said.
Including Dilara.

"That should make sure you understand the lengths the president is willing to go to keep this prion agent from being released. So I repeat, will it work? Will it completely destroy Oasis?"

Locke nodded solemnly. "If they built it according to the original specs, it'll wipe out the entire facility."

The timer was counting down from ten, and a voice accompanied it. One of the screens showed a view from a chase plane of the B-52 that was carrying the MOP. When the count reached zero, a huge bullet-shaped bomb fell from the B-52, which banked away once the bomb was clear.

"Thirty seconds to impact," the countdown voice said.

"Dad," Locke said, "you're making a mistake. We aren't even sure that this agent would be destroyed by the bomb."

"There are 5300 pounds of explosive in that bomb. Whatever isn't incinerated will be buried in the rubble."

"But we're talking about 300 lives."

"The President agrees with our assessment. Those lives are expendable to make sure this threat is neutralized. If you want to save those people, make sure you secure that compound before 2100."

The airman reached the end of the countdown. "Three...two...one..."

For a fraction of a second, Locke could see the enormous bomb that plunged into the side of the mountain. A moment later, the microphone on the camera picked up a rumble deep within the mountain. The side of the mountain rose then collapsed, creating a depression 300 feet across and 40 feet deep. Dust cascaded into the air, but the explosion was too far underground to blast outward. The trailer erupted in cheers and applause, but Locke was chilled by the fearsome sight.

"The cave that MOP just destroyed was buried in 125 feet of granite," the General said.

"The rock at Orcas Island isn't as strong," Locke said.

"You still want to go?"

Even more now,
Locke thought as he nodded.

"You're a stubborn bastard," the General said with a hint of a smile. "Just like your father. All right. You'll have until 2100 hours tonight to give us the all-clear. After that, I'll have no choice but to turn Garrett's compound into a crater."

"When does the assault begin?"

"We can't give them any time to prepare. It's set for 2000 hours, Pacific time, enough time for complete darkness to set in. We estimate that if Oasis can't be breached in one hour, it won't happen and the team's been eliminated. That puts us in serious danger of losing containment of the bioweapon."

"We'll make it," Locke said.

"I'm heading up the joint operation," the General said with an steely gaze directly at Locke. "And I
will
order that bomb dropped at exactly 2100 hours if I don't hear from you. Don't be late. That's an order, son." Then the General turned away to speak with the colonel again. They were dismissed.

Locke could hear the helicopter outside spooling up its engine. He and Grant would have to move fast if they were going to coordinate with the strike team.

He looked at his watch. Just eight hours until the assault.

Oasis

When Garrett's private jet had flown over the Seattle metro area, Dilara had finally known where they were, but it didn't make a difference. On the helicopter ride from the airport to Orcas Island, there had been no chance for her to make an escape.

They arrived at some kind of compound with a mansion that lorded over the estate. She had been hustled through a security pass-through, and then onto an elevator that went down, taking her underground. The panel had seven buttons on it. When the doors opened at Level 3 to reveal a hallway bustling with people, she understood the purpose of the warren. Oasis. The refuge that would hold these people until it was safe to reemerge once the bioweapon had done its job.

A bear of a man with a shaved head met them at the elevator. He was flanked by two other men heavily armed with submachine guns.

"Status?" Garrett demanded.

"All our members are accounted for and inside Oasis."

"Good. We're going on lockdown immediately. Dr. Kenner, this is Dan Cutter. He'll take you to your quarters." Garrett turned back to Cutter. "Give me two hours. Then we'll begin the interrogation." With Petrova at his side, he got back in the elevator.

Cutter and the two men behind him took Dilara by the arm and led her to a room that was more lavishly appointed than she expected. It was the size of a cruise ship cabin, with a small bathroom to the side. The bed, nightstand, and dresser were antiques. A change of clothes lay on the bed, and a pair of shoes were on the floor.

"You can wear that, or you can stay in your dress and high heels," Cutter said. "Doesn't matter to me."

He slammed the door behind her and locked it. She heard him tell one of the two men to stay behind and guard the door. The footsteps retreated down the hall. Dilara had never felt so alone.

She wasn't going to wear the dress. Though the odds of her overpowering a trained soldier were slim to none, she needed to be in more practical clothes to make her move when the time came. There were probably cameras in the room, but there was no use trying to find them. If she covered them up, they'd be in here immediately.

She'd been in the field too many times, where privacy was not always the greatest concern, to let voyeurs embarrass her, but she didn't want to give them more of a show than she had to. She changed into the new outfit, covering herself with the shirt before taking off her dress. The clothes fit surprisingly well, even the tennis shoes. Going to the bathroom was more uncomfortable, but she had no choice, again keeping herself covered from prying eyes.

Then all she could do was wait, so she sat on the bed and meditated. She was brought some food, but she didn't eat it and only drank water from the faucet in the bathroom. She was used to going all day without eating when she had to. If they wanted to drug her, she wasn't going to make it easy for them.