"You're bleeding," Korov said.
Selena's sleeve was red with blood.
"Only a scratch."
Korov took out his knife and cut the fabric away from her arm. She winced as he pulled the cloth away.
"It's not serious. A flesh wound," he said. He cut a strip from his shirt and used it to wrap the injury. His touch was gentle as he did it.
Selena gave him an odd look. "Thanks," she said.
Nick inserted a fresh 30 round magazine into his M-16. "Let's go," he said.
They moved into the left-hand corridor. Light bulbs lined the walls at regular intervals, each one protected by a metal grill. The tunnel was big, at least two dozen feet across and almost as high.
"You could drive a truck through here," Ronnie said. "What were they thinking of?"
"It was supposed to be part of the train system," Selena said. "At least that's the story."
They walked along the deserted tunnel. Nick felt fatigue setting in as the adrenaline wore off. He forced himself to stay alert.
"Someone spent a lot of money to build this," Korov said.
"If it was meant to be an emergency hideout for the big shots, they wouldn't have cared about how much it cost."
"But they never used it," Selena said. "Why build it and then walk away?"
"Who knows?" Nick said. "I gave up trying to understand how Washington spends our money a long time ago."
Ahead, the corridor turned left around a blind corner. They moved single file along the wall until Nick signaled a halt. He glanced around the corner.
The corridor ended in a wall and a steel door painted gray.
They moved to the door. Nick tugged on his ear. It itched.
"Maybe they think we're dead. Maybe they don't. My guess is were going to find out when we go through that door," Nick said. "The door opens toward us. Ronnie, you and Korov take the left side and Selena and I will take the right."
They took up positions on either side of the door. Nick pulled it open. Nothing happened.
The door led to a large storeroom filled with old office furniture and odds and ends from the airport. Everything was stacked in haphazard piles. The place looked like a junk shop organized by a schizophrenic. On the far side of the room was another door.
"I don't see anyone," Ronnie said. His voice was quiet.
They started into the room.
"Look out!"
Korov jumped in front of Selena and pushed her aside. A burst of automatic fire came from behind a stack of boxes. The bullets hurled the Russian backward. Nick had time to see a dark object hurtling through the air before the world vanished in a wave of light and sound.
CHAPTER 54
Nick came to his senses and retched. He was lying on the floor. A man in a TSA uniform stood over him. The muzzle of a rifle was pressed into his neck.
"Don't move, asshole."
The voice was muffled. Something was wrong with Nick's hearing.
Flashbang,
he thought.
Another man grabbed Nick and bound his hands behind his back with zip ties. Nick clenched his teeth against a jolt of pain from his broken fingers. The man pulled him to his feet. For Nick, it felt like his arms were going to come out of their sockets. He was dizzy. He stumbled and retched again. The other man kept a harsh grip on his arm. Then he saw Korov.
The Russian lay on his side, his eyes open, unblinking. His face had a look of childlike surprise. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood. Blood spread in a slow, red stain around him.
Aw, hell,
Nick thought. Then,
Selena!
He looked to his right. Selena was being hauled to her feet. A little ways past her, Ronnie lay on the floor as someone tied his hands.
Selena looked over at him and he felt relief that she was still alive. She looked at Korov's body and her face set. Nick knew the look. You didn't want to be on the wrong side of that look.
"You all right?" he said.
"Yes."
"Shut up. No talking." Nick's guard poked him hard in the back with his rifle.
One of their captors was on his radio. He had three gold stripes on his shoulders. He listened for a moment, acknowledged and put the radio away.
"We're going to the control room," he said to the man standing next to Nick. "The General wants to see them."
"Wants to ask them a few questions, I'll bet. They won't like that."
"I wouldn't mind asking
her
a few questions," one of the men said. He walked over and stood about six feet away from Selena.
"What do you say, honey bunch? Be nice, and I can make things a lot easier for you."
"I can't be nice to you if you're way over there," Selena said.
The man grinned and stepped close. Selena kneed him in the groin. He doubled over in pain, grabbing his crotch.
After a moment he straightened up. "Bitch," he said, and punched her in the stomach. She went down on her knees, gasping for breath.
"That's enough," the man with the stripes said. "The General's waiting." Selena struggled to her feet. Stripes went over to her. He stood well out of her reach.
"You try anything else, I'll put a bullet in your head. Understand?"
She said nothing.
"I'll take that as a yes," Stripes said.
As the men prodded them forward, Nick thought about Korov. They had been under fire together in Texas and Russia, gotten drunk together, sung songs together. Nick didn't let many people into his life, but Korov had been one of them. Nick felt rage stirring, the kind of rage that had erupted on the day he almost killed his father, all those years ago. He took a deep breath to get himself under control. Blind rage wasn't going to get them out of this. He looked over at Ronnie, then at Selena. Something passed between them. It wasn't over yet.
The guards marched them through the door at the end of the storage space and into another passage. It led to a big room where a half dozen technicians tended computers and watched their monitors. Everyone wore the TSA uniform except for two men standing in front of a huge display screen mounted on one wall. The men turned to look as the guards herded them into the room. One was dressed in the green uniform of a full general in the U.S. Army.
Westlake,
Nick thought. The other man looked familiar. Then it clicked.
It's Martinez, the Senate Majority Leader. What's he doing here?
"Bring them here," Westlake said.
"Sir, be careful of the woman," Stripes said.
"You heard me."
"Yes, sir."
The guards stopped them about six feet away from Westlake.
He looked at Nick. "I recognize you," he said. "You were the one with Rice in Jerusalem. You should have stayed in Washington."
"I'm not the only one who should have stayed there," Nick said. "How does it feel to be a traitor, General? Your country has given you everything. Why are you doing this?"
"The victors decide who is a patriot and who is a traitor," Westlake said. "George Washington was a traitor, as far as England was concerned. Everything I do is for the good of the country. Someone has to take action. Fortunately, there are several of us who have decided that enough is enough."
"Ten minutes, General." The man speaking sat at a console in front of the big screen. It looked like a fancy gaming console, with a joystick and keyboard. "On schedule."
"Very well, Abingdon," Westlake said over his shoulder. He kept his eyes on Nick. "Do you understand what's about to happen, Major Carter?"
"It's not Major anymore," Nick said. "I'm a civilian, now."
Westlake said. "You can serve again, if you like."
"Are you offering me a job?"
"I need competent commanders. You're a patriot like me. You know what's been happening to our country. Come over to me and you'll have an important role to play in the new military."
"What rank?"
"Full Colonel, to start. I'll give you a Battalion. How about it?"
"I don't think so," Nick said, "I've had enough of tin pot generals like you."
"Why are you Marines always so damn stubborn?" Westlake said. "You call yourself a civilian, but there are no civilians in a war."
"We're not at war."
"No?" Westlake said. "We have been at war for some years. Are you aware of the storms that just ravaged the Mid West?"
"The twisters?" Nick said. "Those were acts of nature."
"No, Carter, they were not. They are the result of interference in the ionosphere by our enemies. Do you know what SATWEP is?"
"I know it's a secret satellite weapons program and that you're in charge of it."
"Our primary mission is to develop satellite weaponry that can manipulate weather over enemy territory. Beijing and Moscow have similar programs. The Chinese are developing new technology that could tip the balance. We need a firm hand in Washington to do something about it."
"By starting riots? Killing American citizens, non-combatants? I know about Ajax and what you intend to do."
"My," Westlake said. "You have been busy. It's unfortunate, but there are always casualties in war. Do you know the story of Ajax?"
"The Greek hero in Homer's Iliad?" Nick said.
Westlake nodded in approval. "I'm glad to see that your education was adequate. Ajax was the strongest of the Greek warriors. Strength is what we lack now, thanks to Rice and his ilk. That ends today."
"This isn't a Greek poem," Nick said. "What's Ajax got to do with it?"
Talking about Ajax seemed to infuse Westlake with energy. He sucked on his cheeks. His eyes gleamed.
He's nuts. Crazy as a loon,
Nick thought.
"Ajax was a hero and a credit to his nation," Westlake said. "He carried a massive shield to protect him and his comrades. I am building a shield for our country. Then no one will dare challenge us."
"It didn't protect Ajax from himself," Nick said. "If I remember the story right, he threw a temper tantrum over who would get Achilles' armor and killed himself. Doesn't sound very heroic to me."
Westlake studied him. "That was because Homer was biased in favor of Achilles. Ajax was a greater warrior than Achilles, but he never got the credit he deserved. He was cheated by Homer out of his rightful due."
"The way you were passed over for the Joint Chiefs?" Nick said.
Westlake's face flushed. "You are an insolent bastard," he said.
"Five minutes, General," Abingdon said.
Senator Martinez said, "These people are a distraction. What are you going to do with them?"
Nick looked at him. "It's people like you that give democracy a bad name," he said. "You're a disgrace. All that crap about protecting the little guy, jobs for minorities. I always knew you were a phony."
Ronnie laughed.
Martinez gave him a look of contempt. "You won't be laughing soon, Tonto."
"You asked what I'm going to do?" Westlake said. "I'm going to let them watch. It's only fitting for them to witness their failure."
"Four minutes," Abingdon said.
"Bring up a live view."
"Yes, sir."
The wall monitor displayed a computerized map of the Eastern seaboard. Changing numbers scrolled on the right side of the screen as the satellite neared the coast. Abingdon entered a string of commands. The view changed to a live shot of the Northeastern Seaboard. Boston, New York and Philadelphia were clearly visible.
Westlake said, "When I give the command, Ajax will transmit ultra high frequency radio waves and trigger the amplifiers at the target sites. The amplified waves affect everyone within several square miles. The result is a total loss of impulse control and stimulation of the reptilian brain. You get primal rage. Survival instincts are activated. Riots will begin in the targeted cities. Edmonds will have to declare martial law."
His tone was conversational. He might have been discussing the weather.
"The numbers you see on the screen tell us time to target, range, velocity relative to the Earth's surface, everything else we need to know. In another two minutes or so, Ajax will be in range."
"Sir, I've detected a deviation of almost two degrees," Abingdon said.
"Don't bother me with that sort of thing, Abingdon. Correct it."
"Yes, sir."
Abingdon moved the joystick on his console. On screen, the live picture of the US altered slightly as the satellite changed position. Selena watched him, then glanced at the readout indicating time to target. The numbers were in bright red. They descended in numbing indifference.
1:19.
1:18.
1:17.
"This satellite is something we developed at DARPA," Westlake said. "It uses an experimental nuclear propulsion system that generates a stream of ionized gases. It never runs out of fuel. I can move it anywhere I like. It does require monitoring and careful control, however."
Selena and her guard stood near the control console. Nick saw her edge a fraction closer to the panel. Their eyes met. He nodded, the movement almost undetectable.
"I don't understand something, General," Nick said. He needed to keep Westlake's attention. "What do you hope to gain by this? You'll never be able to follow through. The Army will stop you."
Westlake laughed. "Oh, really, Carter. You don't think I would do this without the support of the Army, do you? Senior officers who are not with us are being isolated as we speak. The troops follow orders. They'll be told terrorists are behind the riots, domestic agitators. There are plenty of angry groups out there we can blame. Once martial law is in place nation-wide, there won't be anything anyone can do."
Selena edged closer.
"One minute," Abingdon said.
"The President will stop you," Nick said.
"The President is about to have a fatal relapse," Westlake said. "Edmonds will be sworn in. He'll do what I say."
"He's part of this?"
Before Westlake could answer, Selena made her move. She couldn't use her arms, bound behind her. Her guard was looking at Westlake. She pivoted on one foot and swept the man's legs from under him. As he fell, she slammed her body into Abingdon and knocked him aside. She butted the joystick with her head.