Submerged (13 page)

“That’s good to hear,” Sanders said. “You’ll
be doing plenty of that.”

Henry watched as Bill Nash stepped from the
large car and led a group of three men toward the others. Nash was
slipping the straps of a backpack over his shoulders. Strapped to
the side of the pack were two short-handled shovels.

As they approached, Henry felt small. He was
not a tall man, just under six feet, but he wasn’t tiny, either.
The three men with Nash were two to four inches taller than him and
had wide shoulders. They wore jeans and long-sleeve shirts. Henry
could see muscles testing the boundaries of their sleeves. They
walked with confidence and subtle precision. These were trained
men, probably Special Forces of some sort. Nash had been introduced
by Sanders as “navy intelligence.” Perhaps his men were Navy SEALs.
Henry saw no purpose in asking. Each carried an automatic weapon
Henry recognized as a CAR-15. He wasn’t a weapons expert, but he
had picked up enough knowledge working with the military to
recognize the assault weapon and to know that because they were
smaller than M16s, they had become the choice of Special Forces
units.

“Those aren’t hunting rifles,” Zeisler
said.

“No need for alarm,” Sanders said. “These men
are here for our protection.”

“Protection from what?” Cynthia asked.
“Bears?”

“It never hurts to be prepared.” Sanders
pointed at the three. “McDermott, Sanchez, and Buckley.”

“Sounds like a law firm,” Zeisler
quipped.

Grant shivered. “I don’t want to know the
kind of law they practice. What now?”

Sanders looked at Nash.

“All clear,” Nash said.

Since Nash hadn’t been out of Henry’s sight
since they left Tonopah, he assumed that Nash had been in radio
contact with the “others” Sanders had mentioned. Henry couldn’t
resist looking around for those whom he knew were in the shadows
and behind trees.

“Tallyho,” Sanders said. “Take the lead, Mr.
Nash.”

Nash did, starting down the grade. The man
called McDermott followed, his weapon pointed down and to the side.
Henry watched as he moved through the foliage. His head moved
constantly.
Vietnam,
Henry thought.
The man looks like he’s on patrol.

Sanders followed. Henry looked at the others
and at the two remaining guards. They didn’t move. “I guess we’re
the middle of the Oreo cookie,” Henry said and followed
Sanders.

“Are there snakes out here?” Cynthia asked as
she stepped behind Henry. “I hate snakes . . . and mice . . . I
hate mice, too.”

“What about scorpions?” Zeisler asked.

“I’ve dated a few,” Cynthia said.

Henry laughed. The woman had a sense of
humor.

Their boots—something Sanders had insisted
they bring—dug into the loose soil. Several times Henry felt his
footing give way but was able to avoid a fall. Grant had not been
so lucky. As they descended into the valley, Cynthia fell forward
twice, each time catching herself on Henry’s shoulders.

“You want me to carry you down?” Henry
joked.

“No way. I’m a liberated seventies woman.
I’ll let you carry me back up, however.”

“So you’re only partially liberated?”

“Sometimes it is better to be smart than
liberated.”

Zeisler grumbled. “Let’s hope we get a chance
to walk back up. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Henry didn’t say it, but he felt the same
way.

It took forty minutes to work through the
brush and descend to the valley floor. Nash turned right and walked
another fifty yards, then stopped and waited for the others. The
descent had been taxing but not overly so. Henry’s breathing was
deeper and more rapid, but he didn’t feel exhausted. He watched the
rest of the team. They looked more wearied by the hike. The trip
back up would be ten times worse.

They had gathered in a small clearing at the
foot of the slope. Henry studied the area. It appeared untouched,
unmolested by humans. He searched for footprints, but even those
were absent. He had the sense that they were the first ones here in
a very long time, yet he knew that couldn’t be the case. Whatever
they were to examine had to have been discovered by someone . . .
and recently. That meant that someone had taken the time to mask
any sign of visitors to the locale.

Nash lowered his backpack and unstrapped the
short-handled shovels. He handed one to McDermott, who took it
without a word. McDermott in turn handed his CAR-15 to Sanders.
Sanders took it like a man who had held such weapons before.

Nash and McDermott walked a few yards away
until they were standing in a twenty-by-twenty clearing covered in
dirt and pine needles. Henry watched as Nash sent the blade of the
shovel into the dirt. McDermott did the same. For fifteen minutes,
they moved the ground one shovelful at a time. Then they stood
back. Nash was breathing hard, McDermott less so. Working at a
higher altitude was difficult for those used to living at sea
level.

Nash eyed Sanders, who nodded and approached.
Sanders returned McDermott’s weapon; McDermott took it and yielded
his spot. Henry watched as each man removed a key from his pocket
and knelt down. Henry took a couple of steps closer and to the side
to better see what his two hosts were doing. He saw a round hatch
similar to a manhole cover but larger by a third. On the hatch was
a large lock with a place for two keys. Sanders turned his key to
the left; Nash twisted his to the right, then in unison, they
turned both keys inward. The latch gave way, and Sanders rose and
stepped away. Henry could see lettering on the cover: danger! high
voltage.

The lock was removed from the hasp. A metal
handle was welded just above the latch. Nash seized it and pulled.
The metal hatch swung open without noise. It too was new, Henry
decided.

“We’re not going down that, are we?” Cynthia
asked.

Sanders smiled. “The high-voltage warning is
just an added measure of security. No need to fear.”

“I assumed that. I’m just not big on confined
spaces,” she explained.

“You’ll do fine,” Sanders said.

“Easy for you to say.”

Sanders looked at the engineers. “Well,
folks, it’s time to change your world.” He nodded at Nash, who
stepped to the opening, sat on the dirt, and hung his feet into the
dark maw. He wiggled forward, his head down. Henry couldn’t see
down the hatch, but Nash’s body motion gave the impression that he
was stretching for a foothold. He must have found it because he
leaned forward, took hold of something, and began to descend.
McDermott followed.

“Who would like the next honor?” Sanders
asked.

“I’ll go.” Henry started toward the opening.
He stood at its edge and spotted a ladder of stainless steel
attached to a metal sleeve that formed the walls of the conduit.
“Down, down, down the rabbit hole.” Like Nash, he sat, reached for
the ladder, and started down into the darkness.

Perry stood on the side of the road, ten
yards in front of the Hummer. Jack, Gleason, and Zeisler waited in
the car, giving him a private moment. Before him was the road that
led up the mountain pass. In the distance, he could see a cell
phone tower, the last one in the area, according to Dr. Zeisler.
Perry knew that Gleason had packed an Iridium satellite phone and
had no reason to doubt that it would work where cell phones didn’t.
Since the satellite service covered 86 percent of Earth’s land
mass, he should be able to get a call out if necessary, but Zeisler
had told him they were going where even satellite phones wouldn’t
work. That made no sense to Perry, but he didn’t want to take a
chance.

“Has the doctor been in to see you?” The
image of the hospital room flooded Perry’s mind.

“There’s been a stream of doctors,” his
mother replied. “They don’t tell me anything, but Dr. Nishizaki
seems very worried.”

“He hasn’t given you a diagnosis? By now he
has to have discovered something.”

“All he said was that there was something
strange in Henry’s blood and tissues—something he’s never seen. He
also said that someone from the Center for Disease Control would be
coming by.”

“I see,” Perry said. “What aren’t you telling
me, Mom?”

There was a pause. “It’s the nurses, Perry,
the nurses and the doctors. They all wear masks when they come in
now. Dr. Nishizaki said it was nothing unusual; they are just being
cautious. They also keep the door to the room closed, and no
one—well, other than me—is allowed to visit.”

The medical staff was worried about
contagion, Perry thought. The question was whether they were
worried about bringing infection in or taking it out. “Did they
suggest that you leave?”

“Nishizaki started to, but I cut him off. I’m
not going anywhere. They made Nora leave.” Perry was sad to hear
that. Aunt Nora, his mother’s sister, was going to provide
emotional support. “They’re making me wear a mask, too. I don’t
like it.”

Perry wasn’t sure if she meant that she
didn’t like the mask or the change in situation, but he didn’t ask.
Both had to be true.

“Are you feeling all right?” His stomach
tightened.

“I’m fine. I sleep off and on and talk to
your father a lot. Sometimes I turn the television on, although I
don’t remember much of what I watch.”

“Are you eating?”

“Yes, they bring me a tray of food at
mealtimes. It’s pretty good for hospital food.”

She is trying to be
brave,
Perry thought. “I wish I could be there for you.”

“You are, son. Maybe not in person, but
you’re trying to help. You’re doing what you do best and what your
father wants. That’s what is important.”

Perry tried not to sniff. “I may be out of
touch for a while, Mom. They don’t have cell phone coverage where
I’m going. The satellite phone may not work either. I’ll check in
whenever I can.” He wondered if the next call would reveal that his
father had died.

“You be careful. I can only sit in one
hospital room at

a time.”

“I will. Stay on the doctors, Mom. Don’t be
shy. Press them for answers if you think they’re holding out on
you. You have a right to know everything.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said. “Where
do you think you got your stubborn streak?”

“You mean I’m not unique?”

His mother laughed, and the melody of it made
Perry feel both good and awash in guilt. It was an odd mix of
emotion, but emotion needed no logic.

“I love you, son.”

“I love you, too, Mom. And tell Dad I love
him. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” He could hear the fear in her
voice.

“I’m praying, Mom. So are Jack and Gleason
and lots of other people.”

“I can feel it, Perry. So can your father. I
don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

Perry’s hand began to shake as he terminated
the connection. He clipped the cell phone to his belt and resisted
the impulse to return to the car.

He needed a moment to think; a moment to
pray; a moment to compose himself. Jack and Gleason would not rush
him. He was certain of that.

Chapter13

Janet Novak was
angry,
and she wasn’t the only one. Captain Whitaker was as
sour as she had ever seen him. Carl had called in sick. No crime in
that, but coming on the heels of his confrontation with the captain
over the events in the mountains had made any illness look
suspicious.

“I’ve called his home and his cell number,
and I get nothing,” Whitaker had snapped. Janet had been in his
office, standing in front of her supervisor’s desk. He had not
offered her a seat. That was never good. “To tell you the truth, I
was a little surprised to see you.”

“I’m feeling fine, sir. Why wouldn’t I come
to work?”

“Because I think you’re just as ticked off
about what happened up there as Carl is.”

“You told us to let it go, sir, so I let it
go.”

“But not Carl. He went up there, didn’t
he?”

“I have no knowledge of that, Captain. If he
did, he did so without consulting me.”

“And if he had consulted you, would you have
told me?”

Janet didn’t answer.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Whitaker
paused. “I sent a deputy by his house. No one answered the door,
and his truck is missing.”

“Maybe he went to the doctor. Sick people do
that, you know.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Deputy. Just
because Carl wants to toss his career doesn’t mean you have
to.”

“Sir, you can’t mean—”

“That’s exactly what I mean. He could lose
his job, and it wouldn’t be me firing his sorry fanny. He’s messing
in something that has dark roots.”

“Dark roots?”

“I don’t have details, but I’ve been around
enough to know when something bizarre is afoot.” Whitaker leaned
back in his chair, and Janet watched his eyes trace her form. He
was sizing her up. “You and Carl are pretty close, aren’t you?”

“We make a good team.”

“I don’t mean professionally, Deputy. I mean
. . . socially.”

Janet’s mind began to race as she sought an
acceptable answer.

He waved her off. “Don’t answer that. It’s
none of my business, unless it interferes with your work.” He
frowned. “Go find Deputy Subick, and make sure he isn’t causing
trouble. If he’s gone back up there, I don’t want to know. I just
want him back where he belongs. Make him understand, Janet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my office.”

Janet had left and made a beeline to the SUV
patrol vehicle she and Carl had used the day the group of uniformed
thugs cleaned their clocks. Now Janet was speeding down the road,
making her way back to the site.

Something caught her attention. A large
vehicle was parked at the side of the road. A man stood a short
distance in front of it. She slowed. The vehicle was a Hummer H1.
The words Sachs Engineering were stenciled on the front door. It
looked loaded with gear. Janet could see three men seated inside.
She slowed some more and pulled next to the lone man. She pressed
the button that would lower the passenger-side window. He was tall
and good looking, with a captivating face and a solid physique. She
stopped. The man stepped to the open window.