BETA - Project Avatar, page 4
A tall, skinny soldier in combat fatigues walked across the carpet of her suite. Then another soldier appeared, and the beam of his flashlight briefly swept over the first man’s head, clearly revealing a midnight-red beret.
Dee’s trembling fingers lost their grip. She slipped down and despite her efforts to be quiet, her soles ground loudly on the gravel underfoot. She crouched in the darkness underneath the window for a breathless moment, wondering if the sound was loud enough to be heard inside.
Nothing moved, so she cautiously raised her head to peek in.
The pale, grim faces of the two soldiers stared out at her from just behind the glass. Their dark brows were lowered in concentration under their commando berets. One of them quickly flipped up his flashlight and aimed it straight into her face.
Dee gave a cry of surprise, turned, and stumbled away up the little hill, her eyes dazzled by the bright flash. She recovered her stride and was over the hilltop before she had time to register the absurdity of what she was doing. It was her room, after all. And she was an invited guest, not some kind of fugitive. And besides, where was there to run to?
Once she had started running, she seemed unable to stop. John’s vague warning echoed in her ears. Those men were uniformed, so they must be acting under orders. What on earth are they doing in my room? Are they going to arrest me? She had never really been in any sort of trouble in her life, but that didn’t stop a panic from overtaking her as visions of the violent hijacking filled her mind. She didn’t have any answers, so she just kept going.
A few seconds after cresting the hill, she came to a chainlink fence. In fact, she almost ran into it face-first in the meager starlight. It was eight feet tall, with no barbed wire at the top—barely an obstacle for a former gymnast like herself.
Climbing over the fence Dee dropped to the ground, then quickly looked around for any sign that she had been spotted, and continued jogging through sparse grass between the scattered trees of a broad gulch. Despite her excellent eyesight, she realized that sooner or later she would twist an ankle if she kept pounding along in the darkness. She stopped in a clearing on the stony ground, panting and scanning the horizon with wide eyes, like a deer sniffing the wind for wolves.
A few hundred yards away, a large engine growled to life on the spotless tarmac in front of Hotel Uncle Sam. The sound silenced the crickets around her, replacing the peaceful desert ambience with predatory menace. Then came the sound of heavy tires gripping hard as the vehicle pulled out, and a moving glow of headlights through the cholla cactus and mesquite.
Dee ducked behind the largest of the gnarled mesquite trees in the small copse lining the gulch, her heart pounding. She watched the glow of the headlights approach along the fence line. She was confused and terrified and couldn’t form a clear thought in her head. Why were they chasing her?
The headlights suddenly burst into view, and she made out a Humvee prowling along the track on the other side of the low fence. It stopped not more than twenty yards away from where she was cowering. A frightened instinct told her they must have spotted her, but rationally, she knew that it wasn’t possible.
The Humvee backed, turned, and sped off toward the road to circle the fence. She felt certain they had figured out where she had gone, and that they would come driving up the gulch in no time at all.
Dee didn’t feel like running anymore. After all, there was nowhere to go. If she managed to flee without twisting an ankle, and even if the Humvee didn’t spot her, still it was pointless to run. The base would certainly have a serious perimeter fence out there somewhere. Lots of barbed wire—something she couldn’t just scramble over. If they wanted her, they were going to get her. But why?
The lights of the Humvee bounced up and down among the trees as it made its way into the gulch, near the road. Another, brighter light flickered around it now, probably a handheld searchlight. She stood watching the group of lights slowly approach from a distance of about a quarter mile. They were taking their time, scanning the area carefully with the powerful beam.
She slid her shoulder bag around onto her back and clambered up the dry old mesquite she had been hiding behind. Its nail-like thorns poked her hands and scratched her arms a couple of times, but she managed to find a comfortable seat in a broad fork, about five feet off the ground. Not much of a hiding place, but perhaps it would give her a little room for negotiation if and when they found her. After all, Dee thought, pulling a mesquite thorn tip out of her finger, what are they going to do—shoot me?
She hadn’t been in the tree long when the sound of someone approaching sent a cold shiver through her. In the darkness, she couldn’t see who it was, though it sounded like someone walking in heavy boots. Suddenly, a big, dark shape appeared at the base of the tree below her. She stared at it nervously, not daring to breathe.
“Dee! Get down from there!” a man’s voice hissed.
Dee sat in the tree, frozen with fear.
“I say, come down! Time is rather of the essence.”
“John? How did you . . .?”
“This is no time for conversation. I’m most impressed with your resourcefulness, but the time has come to clamber on down.”
It really was John. Needing no further encouragement, Dee scrambled to a lower branch and swung down, dropping lightly onto the dry ground.
Even at close range it was hard to see him. He was seated very low to the ground in what appeared to be a small six-wheeled vehicle with fat, knobby tires. It must have been electric because she could hear no engine noise, and it was painted in desert camouflage. If it had headlights, they were off. John was still in his dark smoking jacket, which made his body almost indistinguishable in the starlight.
His face, too, was strangely obscured. She leaned over him for a better look. He had a light amplifier strapped over his eyes—night-vision goggles.
“Would you get in?” he said impatiently.
There hardly seemed to be room, but she didn’t quibble. She squeezed into the small seat beside him, and the little vehicle darted off into the dark, rock-strewn desert.
She didn’t know how much visibility John had, but she was in almost complete darkness—and a violent, jolting darkness at that. She hunched around the laptop in her bag, protecting it as well as she could. The tires pounded hard against the big stones and threw the smaller ones as the vehicle lurched along at full speed. At one point, they clipped a giant barrel cactus, and it scraped against the side panel just inches from Dee’s elbow.
“Try not to cry out,” John said.
“Did I?” she managed to reply.
“Yes. And when one screams, one runs the risk of giving away one’s position.”
“Sorry.”
“You might want to grasp hold of something. This next bit is going to be rather rough.”
And indeed, impossibly, the ride got worse—much worse. She had no idea where they were, but her best guess was that they had driven onto the rocky floor of a dry creek bed. As they lurched and bounced, Dee tried desperately to hang on to the vehicle and her laptop. The little buggy flipped nose up and nose down so sharply that it seemed they would pitch end over end. Then, just as abruptly, they were powering smoothly up a sandy slope between tufts of bunchgrass. Over the quiet hiss of the tires, she could hear the crickets again and her own jittering breaths. She waited for the torment to begin anew, but it never came.
The wild part of the ride, it seemed, was over. “Thanks for the whiplash,” she managed to say. She tried to laugh, but no sound came out.
“Gratis.”
As they crested a low hill, John eased off the accelerator a little and they rolled in stately silence over a broad hardpan plain under the cold night sky. The sudden peacefulness came almost as a shock to the system.
“Pardon the bumpy ride back there,” he said. “We had to stay on the rocks for a bit. Don’t want to leave too clear a trail for those lads. They may not be college material, but in matters of animal cunning you could give them all PhD’s.”
Dee had gathered her wits by now. She turned her shoulders as far as she could to face him, which was about ten degrees.
“Okay,” she said. “Who are you really?”
An awkward pause. Then, “Who am I? In . . . what sense?”
“Don’t you think it’s time to let me in on what’s going on? This may all be routine for you, but it’s not for me.”
“Quite so, you poor thing. But do keep your voice down.”
She took a deep breath. She could hear the chirring of insects and the brush of dry foliage against the wheels.
“So, you’re MI-6?”
“No,” he told her. “Quite honestly, I’m not. I’m just here representing Picomens Limited, of Clerkenwell Road, London.”
“Oh, come on,” she railed, raising her voice again.
“But, yes, yes, I was with MI-6 until a few months ago. In fact, this is my first project in the private sector.”
“Good. Thank you,” she said with relief. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Excellent. I do believe in a forthright, honest approach.”
“Give me a break.”
“Whenever possible,” he added.
“Because, I mean, look at you, sitting there with that thing strapped to your head. Anyone could tell you’re some kind of secret agent or . . . something.”
“I admit I’ve dabbled in such things in the past.”
“Dabbled?”
“Well, I was steeped to the gills in them, really. And as long as I’m giving my bona fides I’ll also confess that in younger days I was in Her Majesty’s Special Air Service. SAS 21.”
“I knew it,” she grumbled. “I knew you were some kind of military heavy. Now, John—if that really is your name—I appreciate you spiriting me away from those scary guys—at least, I think I do. But obviously, something very strange is going on, and I have to get some answers.”
“I’ll do what I can—within reason, of course.”
“Let’s start at the beginning. What does ‘UMBRA’ stand for?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.” He glanced her way, the strange contraption on his face making him look like a monstrous insect. “Come to think of it, I’m not even sure whom you might ask.”
“But you said you’ve worked with them before.”
“Yes, I am familiar with the general and his little ways. Jolly lucky for you, too.” He slowed the buggy a little, looked up at the sky and then drove on, heading a little to the right. “This Army reservation has been a sort of home away from home for me in recent years, and given that I was stationed on foreign soil and so forth, I maintained a little bolt-hole in case of emergencies just like this.”
“A bolt-hole?”
“Yes, I own a small cabin, don’t you see, not far outside the perimeter. Just my little secret. I was thinking you might want to spend the night there.”
“How romantic,” she said in a tone that was anything but.
“Yes, terribly so. It’s also a good place not to be kidnapped by commandos.”
John kept looking up as they were speaking, sweeping his goggled face at the heavens, and she realized that he was watching for helicopters. The ground under the tires of the all-terrain vehicle became a little rougher, and Dee clutched her bag closer. She could still hear nothing but the crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.
“How are you planning to get us off the reservation? There must be a fence around this place.”
“Quite. But a flash flood last winter washed out a gouge under part of the fence in a canyon not far ahead. If it hasn’t been repaired, we should be able to slip right underneath.”
She suddenly realized how ridiculous they were being. Their escape plan was possibly illegal and certainly a good way to get shot. The best course of action was to return to Hotel Uncle Sam and try to clear up the misunderstanding, whatever it might be.
“Stop here, please,” she said.
“You can’t be serious—we haven’t the time.”
But when she began climbing out of the moving vehicle John brought it to a halt. “What on earth are you doing?”
She stood beside the odd little buggy and straightened her jacket and shoulder bag. “I don’t really know what is going on but I’m inclined to take my chances with the representatives of my own government. After all, my taxes pay their salaries.”
“But, Dee. I can’t leave you out here. You’ll die of exposure.”
“Well then, perhaps you can drive me back to Hotel Uncle Sam?”
“That’s impossible. I won’t be responsible for taking you back there,” he said, folding his arms.
She stood beside the buggy, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Then it occurred to her: “How did you know I was in that tree anyway?”
“Well, don’t take this wrong, but I was rather keeping an eye on you.”
“You’d been watching me? From where?”
“Oh dash it all, just a moment, this is ridiculous.” He loosened a strap and pulled the light amplifier off his head. “There, that’s much better. You look considerably less frightening now.”
Dee had just enough starlight to make out his expression as he attempted to win her over with a big smile.
“Answer the question,” she said, unmoved.
“Of course. When you noticed those men in your room, I was quite close at hand. Twenty yards east of your position, if memory serves.”
“Twenty yards! And probably wearing those goggles, too.”
“I should think so,” he said defensively. “Can’t see a ruddy thing without them. Now, Dee—Miss Lockwood—please be reasonable and climb back in the vehicle.”
“So you just happened to bring along those goggles in your luggage. Do you always carry them to conferences?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re not mine. I borrowed them from the same place I picked this up.” John gave the buggy an affectionate thump on the flank. “From the building’s armory. I’ll have to show it to you sometime—they’ve got everything in there!”
“The armory at Hotel Uncle Sam! Why would you have access to the armory?”
“Oh, this is quite irrelevant. I must insist you take your seat.”
“Not until you tell me why you have the armory key.”
“I . . . well, technically, I don’t. In fact, I’m forbidden to go anywhere near the place.”
“Oh.” She stared at the pale blob of his face, trying to read his expression. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “That’s naughty of you.”
“It’s always useful to know where to obtain the necessities of the craft. Now, if you will climb back into the buggy we can carry on with your escape.”
“Well, how do I know that you didn’t hire the two guys I saw in my room?” she said.
“Really, now! You must be joking. Doesn’t that sound a bit thin to you?”
“Maybe. But you’re not really explaining what is going on. For all I know, you’re planning to dispose of me in a shallow grave somewhere up here in these hills,” she pointed vaguely in the direction they were heading.
“Oh, you wound me to the marrow! The sheer injustice of it. Even a nitwit could see that the easiest way to dispose of you, as you so colorfully put it, would be simply to have left you to your own devices.”
She bit back a rejoinder and confined herself to merely muttering, “Nitwit, is it?” And she glared into the darkness.
John blew out a resigned puff. “That was a bit harsh of me. Please accept my apology.”
She ignored him, still staring off into the distance with her arms folded.
“Dee,” he pleaded, “you seem like such a sensible, clear-headed creature. Not at all like most cryptographers. Please, let’s continue this conversation from the comfort of the vehicle.”
So, with a head full of doubts, she stepped back into the knee-high buggy and squeezed her hips down onto her half of the seat.
Chapter 5
John set off again at full speed while adjusting the straps of his goggles with one hand. “Pursuit seems to be slow in coming,” he noted. “Ah! Here’s the washout, just ahead. Careful, it’s a bit rough here,” he warned her, and they plunged down the side of a steep ravine. The knobby wheels skidded on dry dirt as they slid down into the darkness. When they came to the bottom he turned hard left, presumably driving up a dry wash or gully. She saw the vague silhouettes of the fence’s wires as they passed beneath.
They continued driving in the shadowy depth of the dry riverbed, but the ride was smooth now.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“There’s a nice floor of dried silt at the bottom of this wash,” he told her. “It should lead to one of the canyons coming down from the ridge. Good cover down here, so we’ll use it while we can. My cabin is on the other side of the hills.”
“All right. Now, back to what you were saying. Why were you spying on me?”
“Look, the driving is a bit tricky here. Could we hold off for just a few minutes?”
“You can stop if you need to, but I want to know why you were lurking in the dark, watching me with night goggles.”
The way was becoming steeper now and the electric motor whined a bit with the strain.
“Well, after dinner,” he said with obvious reluctance, “I followed the general out of the dining hall. I had been invited to observe some of the interrogation of the three hijackers.”
“Sort of an after-dinner show,” she suggested caustically.
“No need to be cheeky,” he said. “Civility-wise, it’s considered a good sign when foreign observers are allowed at these affairs. At any rate, when we arrived at the designated chamber I was surprised to find all three of the prisoners seated at a long table, dining on Lobster Newberg.”
He paused and glanced over to Dee as the information sank in.
“Lobster Newberg,” she echoed tentatively.
“Yes, I had already missed most of the interrogation, but I was present through the cheese course.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Now, at this point, would you care to guess the nationality of these three gentlemen?”
