Текст книги "The Storm"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

CHAPTER 21

KURT REACHED THE TOP OF THE BLUFF A FEW SECONDS ahead of Joe. He studied the layout.

The landing pad was set up three-quarters of the way to the front edge. A Russian-made helicopter sat in the center of the pad. The cargo door was rolled back, and a pair of men dressed like guards sat in the open doorway, sharing a cigarette and talking.

Glancing around, Kurt saw no one else. “Can you get them both?”

Joe nodded. “Two birds with one stone,” he said. “Or, in this case, multiple wires.”

Kurt was glad to hear that. He pointed to the far side of the copter. Joe moved that way, clinging to the side of the bluff like a rock climber.

When Joe reached a covered spot beside the gray machine, Kurt pulled the cloth of the caftan across his face. He stepped from his own hiding spot and walked toward the men, holding his hands out and muttering something about a lost camel.

The men snapped to attention and moved toward him. One put a hand on his sidearm but didn’t draw it out, perhaps because Kurt looked like a local, perhaps because he had his hands up as he spoke.

“Nãqah, nãqah,”he said, using the Arabic word for female camel.

The men seemed utterly baffled. They continued toward him looking angry, never seeing Joe move in behind them.

“Nãqah,”Kurt said once again, and then watched as the men stiffened and dropped to their knees.

They fell forward silently. Reveling Joe grinning and holding a Taser, which he’d fired into the two men.

“Oh where, oh where has my little nãqahgone?” Kurt finished.

“Great thing about Tasers,” Joe said, “they work so quick, people can’t even yell out.”

The coiled wires were still attached, and when the men began to move, Joe zapped them again.

“I think they’ve had enough, Dr. Frankenstein.”

Joe switched the power off, and the tension left the two men instantly. Kurt was on them, jabbing a tranquilizer dart into each and watching their eyes roll up in their heads. As the men went limp, Joe pulled out the Taser wires and helped Kurt carry the two back to the helicopter.

They piled the men inside, climbed in after them, and then slid the door shut.

A few moments later the door opened. Kurt and Joe came out dressed in the guards’ dark blue clothing, complete with kaffiyehs that covered their faces and hair. While Joe pretended to watch the helicopter, Kurt looked around for the tunnel he’d seen.

He discovered a cut in the stone and followed it to a ladder that dropped straight down. At the bottom he found a door made of steel with an electronic sensor lock above the handle. It looked familiar, like the locks in any hotel.

“Let’s just hope we have a reservation,” he said to himself as he rummaged through the guard’s pockets. Finding a card key in one, he slipped it in the card reader and pulled it out. When the light went green, he turned the handle.

“Easy as pie,” he whispered.

Propping the door open with a small rock, he climbed back up the ladder and whistled to Joe. A moment later they were in the tunnel and taking a steep set of stairs downward.

“Into the rabbit hole,” Kurt said. “Just keep an eye out for the Jabberwocky.”

“What exactly is a Jabberwocky again?” Joe asked. “I was never quite sure.”

“It’s something bad and scary,” Kurt said. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

They descended the stairs and came to a warren of tunnels. They took one that angled downward and came to another crossroads.

“I feel like I’m in an ant farm,” Joe whispered.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “I can just imagine giant people watching us through the glass.”

They moved down the tunnel to another intersection.

“Which way?” Joe asked.

“No idea,” Kurt said.

“We either need a guide or a map.”

Kurt’s brow wrinkled. “If you see a lighted display that says ‘You are here,’ be sure to let me know.”

They found no such thing, but then Kurt noticed something else.

Up above, a series of pipes ran through the tunnel. Power conduits and possibly water or natural gas. All the things a production center needed.

“We need to find the factory,” he said. “I’m thinking we follow the power lines.”

They moved along a tunnel, tracking the conduits. It led them to a larger hallway, wide enough to drive a car through. A pair of men dressed like them walked toward them, coming from the opposite direction. Kurt forced himself to remain relaxed as they approached. Nevertheless, he was ready for a fight. But they passed without a word, and he breathed a little easier.

At the end of the tunnel they came to an open section of the cave. Concrete flooring had been put in, and a dozen tables surrounded by chairs filled the space. It was lit up brightly. A far wall had refrigerators and sinks stacked against it.

“Congratulations,” Kurt said. “We’ve found the mess hall.”

“And I’m finally not hungry,” Joe said.

Groups of men sat at three of the tables. Strangely, they looked nothing like Jinn’s men.

“All kinds of people here,” Kurt whispered. “We better keep going.”

They moved on, following the pipes and conduits until they reached a glass wall. It looked down into a cavernous space. The lighting was low, but from what they could see it looked like an Olympic-sized pool sat down below. A large shape took up the middle.

“What is this, a health spa?” Joe whispered.

“It won’t be if we get discovered.”

“That’s a big tank,” Joe said. “Reminds me of our simulation tank back in D.C.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Kurt said, quoting Alice from the Lewis Carroll classic. “These guys must be modeling something. Currents or waves or something.”

“What’s with the setup in the middle?”

“No idea,” Kurt said. “But let’s get a closer look.”

They found a door and slipped through it. Stairs led down to a locker room of sorts. White hazmat-style uniforms hung in stalls.

“Time for a wardrobe change,” Kurt said.

“You think these are necessary?”

“For camouflage,” Kurt said. “And if there are any of those microbots down here, it might be good to have a protective layer on.”

In a minute, Kurt and Joe had each donned hazmat suits, pulling them on over the uniforms they’d stolen from the guards.

They moved out onto the pool deck and stood at the surface level. Kurt noticed the object in the center was not a model ship or even the depiction of some coastline but a wide curving object wedged between the two sides. The water level was high on one side of it but far lower on the other side and constricted to a narrow, irregular channel.

He and Joe descended one more flight of stairs and opened a door. They now stood below the water level, looking into the tank and the cross section of the obstruction through the tank’s clear acrylic side.

“I’ve seen this before,” Kurt said. “It’s an embankment dam. The top layer is crushed rock and sand. The gray core in the center is most likely waterproof clay. The bottom liner is known as a cutoff curtain. It’s usually made of concrete, designed to keep the water from seeping under the dam.”

He pointed to the high water behind the dam. “They’re even filling the high side like it’s a reservoir.”

“Why would these guys be modeling a dam?” Joe asked.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling we’re not going to like the answer.”

The sound of a generator starting up caught their attention. A moment later the main overhead lights came on and the room brightened. Through the water Kurt saw the distorted shapes of other men in white hazmat suits on the far side of the pool.

“We better look busy,” Kurt said.

Joe grinned. “I’m pretty sure there’s an exit sign I need to inspect.”

“That sounds like a job for two.”

They climbed back up the stairs and slipped out of the observation dugout. Back on the pool deck, they waved to the men across from them in identical suits, received a wave in return and then entered the locker room once again.

“What now?” Joe asked.

Through a window Kurt saw another group entering the room. These men were dressed sharply in fine Arab clothing. Another man dressed in white was pointing out this and that to them. A bearded man in a plain gray caftan trailed behind them.

“That’s Jinn,” Kurt said, basing his guess on a surveillance photo he’d seen.

“Who are these other guys?” Joe asked.

“They look like dignitaries on a tour,” Kurt said.

Jinn led the Arab men around the pool and over to the very stairway Kurt and Joe had just ascended. They went down to the underwater viewing area.

“They’re here for a demonstration of some kind,” Kurt whispered.

“I hate to sound like the reasonable one,” Joe began, “but maybe we should beat a hasty retreat while they’re otherwise occupied.”

Kurt shook his head. “Sage advice, my friend. Except we now have a front-row seat, and they’re about to show us what they’re planning. I think it behooves us to stick around, keep the suits on and try to blend in.”

“ Behoovesus?”

“It was the word of the day on my calendar last week. Never thought I’d get a chance to use it.”

“Glad to hear you’re expanding your vocabulary. But what if something behooves one of them to ask us what we’re doing here? Or to perform some task we don’t know how to do, like turn some big machine on?”

“We’ll just press a lot of buttons, throw some switches, and pretend we’re incompetent,” Kurt said.

“Go with our strengths, then.”

“Exactly.”

Kurt would have tried to reassure Joe further, but additional machinery starting up dragged his attention back to the window.

He saw Jinn gesturing and speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words through the glass.

“This is like watching TV with the mute button on,” Joe said.

At the far end of the pool, a large yellow drum was being secured to a hoist and lifted by an overhead crane. By the caution they showed, and the fact that only the white-suited men got anywhere near it, Kurt figured he knew what was in that drum.

“Sound or no sound,” he said, “I think we’re about to see a show.”

CHAPTER 22

IN THE CAVERNOUS BAY SURROUNDING THE TANK, JINN’S words to Mustafa of Pakistan and Alhrama of Saudi Arabia echoed with a strange dissonance. He’d managed to be gracious and munificent—at least in his own mind—despite wanting to choke them with his bare hands. But he was ready to send them a message. In fact, he’d decided to send two.

Sabah leaned closer. “Separate them,” he whispered and then stepped back, remaining behind Jinn and out of sight.

Jinn did not react to the words. He had agreed to this show on Sabah’s request. But he would decide what must occur now.

“You see in the tank before you a mock-up of the Aswan High Dam,” he said. “It will soon be the focal point in a demonstration of my powers.”

“I don’t understand,” Alhrama said.

“General Aziz has emboldened you with his refusal to pay what he promised. He has his reasons, but prime among them is the dam. As long as it exists, Egypt has a five-year supply of water stored up. But Aziz has little understanding of either my power or my wrath.”

Jinn lifted a radio to his mouth and pressed the talk switch. “Begin.”

The machinery spooled up again. The crane shifted and moved the barrel out over the water and into its final position. A cable attached to the bottom half of the yellow drum was reeled in and the drum began to tip.

The silver sand began to pour out; millions upon millions of Jinn’s microbots, pouring into the tank and dispersing like sugar in tea. The water began turning murky and gray.

“Give the command,” Jinn said.

In a control room high above, someone pressed a button and sent out a coded command.

The murky water began to stir. The gray cloud coalesced into a tighter pattern and then moved toward the edge of the dam like a dark spirit drifting through the water.

“What’s happening?” Mustafa asked.

“The dam is made of aggregate,” Jinn said. “Easy to put together and held in place by its great weight, but not completely impervious.”

As he spoke, the silver sand adhered to the edge of the dam in two separate places: one spot near the top of the dam and a second about one-third the way down the sloping wall. After a minute or so, the progress of the tiny machines became noticeable in the cross section of the dam.

“Remarkable,” Alharma said, “the speed with which they penetrate.”

“The actual dam is much thicker of course,” Jinn pointed out. “But the effect will be the same, it will only take longer. A matter of hours, I should think.”

Within minutes the leading fingers of the horde had reached the central core of the dam. Progress slowed dramatically, but the etching continued until a pinprick had been bored through to the other side.

In another minute or two the sand had reached the right edge of the aggregate and broken through. A trickle of water began, quickly accelerating. Soon the weight of the water behind the dam was forcing out a jet of liquid through the tiny gap.

“This effect will be heightened in the real event,” Jinn said. “The weight of the water behind Aswan numbers in the trillions of tons.”

Even in the scale model, the breach was quickly being scoured and enlarged. Soon the gap was two inches in diameter and then four. Moments later a section of the top dropped in, taking the miniature road and cars along with it. The water from the high side of the tank flowed through the gap, pouring over the far side like a waterfall. But it was the lower tunnel through the dam that made things interesting.

As the water surged over the top, it reached a point of equilibrium, scouring downward far less rapidly where the waterproof clay core resisted the erosion.

“The dam is not falling,” Mustafa pointed out.

“Watch the lower tunnel,” Jinn insisted.

The lower tunnel finally made it through to the far side, and in minutes the higher-pressure water from the deeper part of the tank had widened the lower tunnel from a pinprick to a few inches in diameter.

Water blasted out the far side in a fine spray. After another minute, the core collapsed in the center, creating a deep V-shaped groove as the material above it caved in.

A huge wave surged through and crashed into the narrow channel that represented the Nile. It flooded the miniature embankments, sweeping away dirt, sand and small boxes that represented structures.

The test was successful, the dam was breached, the Nile was flooded. Mustafa and Alhrama stared in shock at the devastation.

Jinn smiled to himself and took a step back. It was the perfect moment. Sabah held the door behind him.

Mustafa turned and looked at them, grinning and expectant. He nodded to Sabah. The look on his face reminded Jinn of a thief with stolen treasures in hand. When Sabah took no action, the look changed, first to confusion, then to anger and fear. He must have now realized that Sabah would not kill his master.

The thief with the stolen goods had been caught and his face showed it. He reached for a weapon, but Sabah pulled Jinn aside and slammed the door.

In a blink, the hatch was locked tight. And the hammering of gunfire up against it did nothing but ring in their ears.

Mustafa began shouting from behind the door. “What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?”

From outside the room Jinn pressed an intercom switch. “The meaning is simple. You tried to turn my servant against me and he has passed the test. Now you will suffer the consequences.”

The sound of fists banging followed and then several more shots rang out, and Jinn was in wonder that the ricochets didn’t kill either Mustafa or Alhrama.

Alhrama began shouting. “Jinn, be reasonable! I have nothing to do with this.”

Jinn ignored them. He brought the radio up to his mouth once again. “Begin the frenzy.”

Up in the control room the operator punched another button, and the yellow drum was tilted farther, dumping more of the metallic sand into the pool. The murky gray color returned and deepened, and the water changed complexion once again. From outside the tank where Jinn and Sabah stood, it seemed as if the water had begun to boil.

Inside the viewing chamber, the effect was enhanced. Mustafa stared at the acrylic wall. A dark, viscous shape, thick like octopus ink, surged forward. It flowed onto the clear surface and spread across it like some kind of film.

Mustafa froze. Alhrama pushed past him and yanked on the locked door handle. “Let me out!” he shouted. “It was Mustafa. I was not part of this!”

A strange scratching sound began to resonate, and the film darkened and thickened in a pattern that Mustafa recognized as fissures. The fissures spread across the acrylic in a branching pattern, growing deeper in two small areas.

The etching noise grew louder and sharper, almost like fingers on a chalkboard. The noise seemed to penetrate Mustafa’s brain. He could see the acrylic vibrating, the water shuddering around it.

The clear wall creaked ominously. Behind him Alhrama continued to yank on the door handle and plead with Jinn to let him free. Mustafa began to shake and fell to his knees.

“No!” he shouted. “No!”

The acrylic wall fractured. It caved in, and water flooded the bay. Mustafa tried to swim through it, but the swarm of silver sand enveloped him, soaking into his clothes, burrowing into his skin, and dragging him down to the bottom of the tank like a fifty-pound anvil.

For a minute he struggled like a speared fish, jerking in spasms, but very quickly he was still, and shortly afterward his blood began to stain the water red. Behind him, drowning in the bay, Alhrama fared no better.

CHAPTER 23

KURT STARED AT THE CARNAGE IN THE TEST ROOM. “SUDdenly, I wish we’d left when you suggested it,” he said to Joe.

From inside the locker room he and Joe had watched the whole thing, and with the water turning crimson, it seemed they’d outstayed their welcome.

They shed their hazmat suits, moved to the rear door, left the locker room via the stairs.

“Hope you left a trail of bread crumbs,” Joe said.

“Just keep moving upward and away from here,” Kurt replied.

They reached the main hall, overlooking the tank room, but neither of them looked back. Halfway down the hall, the sound of gunfire broke out. The first wave sounded deliberate and calm, but then it became sporadic and peppered with shouting. What sounded like return fire was mixed in.

“The mess hall,” Kurt said. “Those other guys we saw must have been working for the two guys who just became microbot food.”

The gunfire continued, growing more intense. “Sounds like a major battle,” Joe said. “Maybe they didn’t all get taken by surprise.”

“Too bad for us,” Kurt said. “Unless we want to join up with the blue team, we need to lay low for a bit.”

Kurt found a door, cracked it open, and looked inside. He saw computers, printers and drafting tables. None of them occupied.

“In here,” he whispered.

They ducked inside. Kurt spun and closed the door. He pressed himself to the wall and found he could see part of the hallway through a narrow crack between the doorjamb and the edge of the door itself.

“See if there’s a back way out,” he said, “or a closet or somewhere else to hide in if we need to.”

Joe began to look around, and Kurt squinted through the narrow fissure. Whatever plan had been arranged to deal with the outsiders seemed to be falling apart. Some of Jinn’s men ran down the hall, wounded. Moments later reinforcements charged up it, and the noise of the battle grew louder, including explosions from stun grenades.

“Nowhere to hide back here,” Joe said. “No back door either.”

Kurt kept his eye on the gap. “Just our luck to show up in time for the family feud.”

“A minute earlier, and we’d have been caught in the fight,” Joe countered.

“But two minutes earlier, and we’d have been through the battle zone and on our way up to the roof, with them fighting behind us to give us cover.”

“You have a point,” Joe said.

Kurt wedged his foot against the base of the door, widening the gap just a bit and allowing him to see more of the hall. The sound of footsteps reached him well before he could see who or what was approaching.

“Company coming,” he whispered.

Joe held still.

A group passed by, two guards prodding a young woman along. Her face showed fear, but more of something else. Kurt settled on acceptance or resignation.

She passed by in a blink, but a strange feeling rushed over Kurt as he considered her appearance. She was short, with dark spiky hair, a tan complexion and sad eyes. She looked like a prisoner, and, what’s more, she looked like …

Kurt leaned back against the wall. “We have a problem,” he announced.

“You mean beyond being trapped in a maze in the middle of the desert surrounded by ruthless thugs?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, “beyond that. You’ve met Kimo, right?”

“A couple of times,” Joe said. “Why?”

“Describe him for me.”

“Great guy,” Joe said. “Built like a running back. Stocky, broad-shouldered. He was only about five foot seven, but he was strong as an ox and probably one hundred and eighty pounds.”

“Now, describe his sister.”

“Sad and a little unstable, but with good reason.”

“This isn’t the time get deep on me,” Kurt prodded. “What does she look like?”

“Beautiful,” Joe said. “High cheekbones, fine features, long tan legs.”

“Right,” Kurt said. “Tall and thin, with long limbs and fine silky hair.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I just saw a woman in the hall who looked a lot more like Kimo than the woman we left back on Aqua-Terra.”

“You’ve really got to be kidding me. Was she a prisoner?”

“Looked that way.”

“You don’t think …”

“I do.”

Joe grasped the seriousness of the situation instantly. “So if Leilani is here, then who’s back there on Marchetti’s island?”

“I’m not sure,” Kurt said. “But considering how quick she pulled the gun on Marchetti and then somehow found a way to make up with him afterward, I’m guessing she’s a professional.”

“You called her a hit squad,” Joe reminded him.

“I was joking, but she didn’t bat an eye.”

“No, she didn’t,” Joe said. He took a deep breath. “Paul, Gamay and Marchetti are in danger.”

Kurt nodded. “We have to warn them. Whoever she is, she has to be working for Jinn.”

Before Joe could add anything the door burst open, kicked in by a heavy boot. Men carrying Uzis piled through the gap, swarming over them before they could respond. They were knocked to the ground, subdued and disarmed without a fight.

Two men searched them while others held them down.

“Jabberwocky,” Joe grunted.

“Thanks,” Kurt grunted back sarcastically, the weight of three men holding him down, “I didn’t realize.”

When they’d been relieved of all the tools and weapons, they were lifted to their feet and held in place as another figure entered the room: Jinn al-Khalif, with a rifle in his hand.

He strode up to Kurt. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

“No doubt your spy told you we were coming.”

Jinn smiled like a jackal. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

With that, he slammed the butt of his rifle into Kurt’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him back to the floor.

“Her name is Zarrina. She sends her regards.”