As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, he saw Kusum looking at him, concerned.
“She said she is all right,” he told her. He turned to Mahajan. “The only time I want to hear you speak is if I ask you a question.”
Mahajan started to reply, but Sanjay held up a hand.
“That was not a question.”
Listening at the door, Sanjay heard a crackling noise and the distant sound of an alarm. As he cautiously pulled the door open, sunlight and the smell of smoke flooded in.
A quick look told him they were at the back of the outbuilding closest to the south wall. To the left he saw a fleet of cargo trucks, parked for future use, while the view to the right was blocked by several crates stacked against the building.
Sanjay looked back at Kusum. “Stay here until I signal you.”
He moved outside and eased along the wall until he could look around the corner at the warehouse. No one in sight.
He scanned the wall surrounding the compound. One of Darshana’s bombs had blown a three-meter-wide hole in a section straight back.
He returned to the doorway. “Follow me, but stay low.”
“You’re out now,” Mahajan said. “You should let me go.”
Sanjay jabbed the rifle into the man’s gut and received a satisfying “oomph” as the director doubled over.
“Our agreement was that you would say nothing,” Sanjay said.
Sanjay pointed at the hole in the wall and let Kusum take the lead so he could keep an eye on the director.
They were less than five meters from the rubble when a voice behind them yelled, “Stop!”
Kusum slowed and started to look back.
“No!” Sanjay said. “Keep going!”
“Stop right now!” the voice yelled again.
A pistol shot cracked across the space, sending the three of them to the ground.
“Go, Kusum! Take him and don’t stop!” Sanjay said. “I will be right there.”
As he turned toward the shooter and brought up his rifle, he was not surprised to see van Assen standing fifty feet away.
The Dutchman, his face still dripping blood from their last encounter, looked unsteady on his feet, the pistol he held weaving left and right.
“No one move!” he yelled past Sanjay toward Kusum. “Stop, goddammit!”
Just before Sanjay pulled the trigger, van Assen’s pistol cracked again. Sanjay’s weapon kicked more than he’d expected but his bullet flew true, the slug punching a small, dark hole above van Assen’s left eye. The Dutchman was dead before he even hit the pavement.
As Sanjay turned to run after Kusum and Mahajan, a sharp spike of pain ran through his side. He braced himself on a piece of broken wall and glanced down. The lower corner of his shirt was covered in blood. He placed a hand on his abdomen and winced.
“Sanjay?” Kusum called from beyond the hole in the wall.
He knew if she saw him, she would run back to help, so he said, “On my way.”
Gritting his teeth through the pain, he forced himself forward. When he reached the hole, he had to drop his rifle so he could crawl over the broken chunks of wall.
Kusum’s eyes widened as he dropped onto the other side. “What happened?” She moved to him and ripped at his shirt. “Oh my god. What happened?”
He pushed her hands away. “Later. We need to get away from here first.” He nodded toward Mahajan sitting on a stone huffing and puffing. “You take him. I will be right behind you.”
“No! We have to—”
“Kusum, please. We will both die if we stay here.”
Reluctantly, she grabbed the director by the arm and forced him to his feet. “Move,” she growled.
Once they were away from the wall, Sanjay called Darshana and found out where she was waiting.
When they arrived, Darshana tied up Mahajan and put him in the trunk while Kusum tended to Sanjay’s wounds.
“Why did you let yourself get shot?” she asked.
“I believe…he was aiming…at you.” He grunted as she swabbed away the blood. “Careful!”
“Careful is something you should have been!”
She bandaged him up as best she could, and then she and Darshana stretched him out on the backseat.
As Darshana drove them away, Kusum whispered, “Rest, my love. Everything will be okay.”
Without even meaning to, he closed his eyes.
“Rest,” she repeated.
7
Wicks entered the hut first, with Ash and the others right behind. As soon as they were all inside, the door closed automatically.
Other than the two lights hanging from the ceiling and camera mounted on the wall, there was only a circular hatch in the floor. Though it was hinged on one side, it had no handle.
Ash glanced at Wicks, an eyebrow raised.
Wicks turned to the camera. “Well? My men and I don’t want to stand here all day. Open up.”
A soft hiss seeped from around the hatch’s seal before the metal dome swung upward and revealed a vertical tube with a ladder built into the side. In a way, it reminded Ash of the abandoned California research facility Chloe had taken him to back in the spring when he’d been looking for his children.
He went first, followed by Sealy, Harden, Powell, and then Wicks.
Twenty-five feet down, the shaft opened up into a large room, with the ladder continuing all the way to the floor. Just prior to leaving the confines of the vertical tunnel, Ash activated the signal jammer in his pocket and then finished his descent.
The room was wide. A waiting room, he guessed, big enough to accommodate large groups that needed to use the tunnel. To one side was a pair of elevators, and at the opposite end of the room a single gray metal door.
As Wicks — the last down — climbed off the ladder, the metal door opened and out came a nervous-looking man in a Project Eden security uniform.
“Welcome to Dream Sky, sir,” he said to Wicks as he crossed the room. “My name is Kyle Morris. If, um, there’s anything I can assist you with, please let me—”
Wicks strode up to him. “Do you understand what’s happening out there?”
The man frowned. “Sir?”
“Around the world, at the other bases — do you have any idea?”
“Other bases, sir? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“There’s an attack under way. Several facilities have even been overrun.”
Stunned, Morris said, “Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking with you, Mr. Morris?”
“No. I didn’t mean—”
“Have there been any problems here?”
“Here? Nothing. It’s as quiet as it always is.”
“I’ll need to look at your security logs all the same.” Wicks strode past the man and headed for the metal door. “Security control center is through here, correct?”
“Well, yes, sir,” the man said, flustered. “But no one is supposed to—”
Wicks stopped and wheeled around. “I have VOD clearance. You understand what that means, don’t you?”
“Of course, but I am required to check the ID chip.”
“We are in the middle of a crisis and you want to waste time checking a chip?”
The man swallowed. “Sir, it’s regulations. If I don’t, I could be imprisoned.”
Wicks glared at him a moment longer, then relaxed. “Good answer. If you hadn’t pressed, I would have been obligated to give the detention order myself. Here.” He pulled the VOD out of his pocket and held it out.
Morris took it from him, holding the ID as if it would break into a million pieces if he dropped it.
“Should only take a moment,” Morris said. He turned toward the control center.