“Why haven’t they told us anything?”
“…all overreacting. It’s probably just…”
When Sanjay and Kusum reached the new corridor, they paused for a quick scan. Like before, one direction led to a dead end, while the other linked up with yet another hallway.
Sanjay turned toward the route that would take them deeper into the level, but Kusum grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Look,” she said, nodding in the other direction. “There is only one door.”
She was right. The hallway was about ten meters long, but there were no other doors along the sides like they’d seen elsewhere, just the one at the very end. A sign was attached to the front but it was too far away to read.
“We should check,” she said. “It will only take a moment.”
She took Sanjay’s hand and pulled him toward the door before he could respond. About halfway there, the words on the sign became legible.
DIRECTOR
NB551
“I was right,” she said as she reached for the handle.
Sanjay grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”
He stepped around her and placed his ear against the door. He could hear a few faint sounds but nothing identifiable.
He glanced back at Kusum. “Follow my lead.”
He took several deep, fast breaths and then jerked the door open and rushed inside.
A young woman sat behind a desk centered along the opposite wall. Hanging behind her was a large painting, like something from a museum. Off to the side was a smaller but nearly as prominent framed photograph of a middle-aged, well-fed Indian man. Standing to the left of the desk, in front of another doorway, were two security men, one looking no older than Sanjay.
“Stop!” the older guard said as he and his partner jerked their rifles up and aimed them at Sanjay and Kusum.
“Please,” Sanjay said, his tone panicked. “We have a message for Director Mahajan.”
“What do you mean?” the woman asked. “Who are you?”
“It is from Mr. van Assen.”
“Mr. van Assen? Why did he not bring it himself?”
“He was injured in one of the explosions,” Kusum said. “He told us to give it to the director personally.”
The woman sucked in a surprised breath.
The guards didn’t appear as moved as she was, though. The older one asked, “What section are you with?”
“Section?” Sanjay said. “We work directly for Mr. van Assen. We have only just arrived. He had just picked us up from our plane and brought us here when all the bombs went off.”
“IDs, now,” the guard said.
Sanjay could feel the cold metal of his gun pressing against this back and wanted to pull it out, but knew he’d be dead before it even cleared his side. He needed to stall until he had more of an advantage.
“IDs?” Kusum said before Sanjay could figure out a reply. “Are you joking? They are in our luggage, still up in the car. Or should we have stopped to grab our bags before running for cover?”
“Please, we must see Director Mahajan,” Sanjay said.
The older guard stared at them for a moment before motioning to a couple chairs along the wall. “Sit down.”
“We have no time to sit down,” Sanjay said. “Do you not know what is going on out there?” He looked at the woman again. “You need to tell the director we are here. You need to let—”
“I said sit down!” the guard ordered.
“There is no reason to treat us like—”
The guard stepped over and shoved Sanjay toward the chairs.
“Okay, okay,” Kusum said. “We will sit. Just get the director.”
They lowered themselves into the chairs, Sanjay in the one closest to the guards.
The older one touched a microphone clipped to his shoulder. “This is Buckner in the director’s office. I need to talk to somebody up top.” There was a pause as he listened. “As soon as someone has a moment, then. I’m looking for Mr. van Assen or anyone who’s seen him…okay, hurry.” He dropped his hand from his mic and looked back at Sanjay and Kusum. “Get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere near the director until we confirm your story.”
“We understand,” Kusum said. “Whatever is necessary.”
As she spoke, she moved her hand behind Sanjay and nudged him until he angled his body toward the guards. She then matched his position, her shoulder and left arm hidden behind his back.
It was all he could do to keep his expression blank as she wrapped her hand around the grip of his gun.
3
Raheem Bahar trained his binoculars on the main gate of the Cairo survival station.
One, two, three, four…the seconds ticked off in his head…seven, eight, nine—
The explosion rolled down the empty Cairo streets. Though a cloud of dust obscured Raheem’s view, he knew at the very least the gate should’ve been destroyed.
He shifted the binoculars just in time to catch the second explosion as it punched a hole fifty meters farther down the wall enclosing the facility. Number three was clear over on the other side, and four, five, six, and seven hopped back and forth around the perimeter in no discernible pattern. This was just the beginning. There were still more than two dozen timed explosions waiting their turn.
He scanned the interior of the station and smiled. Project Eden personnel were scrambling around in chaos. A check of the holding areas where the survivors were imprisoned revealed that several people were outside the huts, trying to see what was going on.
Raheem picked up his radio. “Insertion teams, status.”
“Team one moving through east wall, section A.”
“Team two inside, west wall, section Q.”
“Team three repositioning. Blast only cracked the wall at section N. Entering through alternate section M.”
Four more teams reported. Each had either made its way inside the facility or was in the process of doing so.
Raheem turned his mic on again. “Second phase, on my mark.” He waited until the next bomb went off and said, “Go.”
The surface-to-surface portable missile launchers had been appropriated from the American naval station at Rota. Lalo Vega had been skeptical about including them in their plans. He worried his team would not have enough time to learn how to use them correctly, and the weapons would end up being more dangerous to his people than those in Project Eden.
Steven Upton, a Brit who had transferred to Spain as part of the Resistance a year earlier, convinced Lalo to allow him and one other volunteer to at least give it a try. Lalo’s conditions were that they set up far from all the other teams and could shoot only once.
“What’s the holdup?” Lalo asked over his radio.
Steven’s strained voice came from the speaker. “This is heavier than it looks. Give us a couple seconds.”
Lalo waited, his gaze focused on the building that served as the administration headquarters for the station. As he was about to radio Steven again, there was a loud whoosh from off to the left. Lalo looked over just in time to see the rocket streak over the compound’s wall.
One moment the admin building was there, and the next it was nothing more than flames and smoke and raining debris.
“Holy shit,” someone said behind him.
“See, told you it would work,” Steven radioed. “You know, we did bring a few more. We could take out the dormitory or the lot where they’re keeping all their vehicles, or even the front entrance. Hell, we could take out all three.”