“It doesn’t matter where they are. It needs to happen. Can you do it?”
Palmer stared blankly at the wall across from his desk. “I’ll…try.”
“Good. Let me give the number you can call if you have any further questions.”
There were nearly two dozen people in the Bunker making calls around the world, doing whatever they could to put a dent in the Project’s plans.
As soon as Jordan hung up, Matt asked, “Did he buy it?”
“I think so.”
“Will he be able to do it, though?”
“He wasn’t sure, but he was going to try.”
“Okay,” Matt said, wishing the answer had been more definitive. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Jordan nodded, looked down at his list, and dialed the next number.
Palmer looked out his window at the night sky.
Contaminated. Extremely harmful to whoever opens them.
How the hell had that happened?
He turned back around and reached for his phone, intending to call his assistant Cora at home and have her get as many drivers as quickly as possible, but he paused, his fingers touching the handset.
Why hadn’t Mr. Vanduffel called him about this? Did the people at Hidde-Kel Holdings not even know? That seemed unlikely.
He hesitated a few seconds longer then called Cora anyway, so that the drivers would be ready to go. As soon as he finished with her, he dialed a much longer number.
“Hidde-Kel Holdings,” a male voice said.
“Mr. Vanduffel, please.”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
“John Palmer. Palmer Transport amp; Shipping in Perth.”
“One moment, Mr. Palmer.”
It was over a minute before the line clicked.
“Mr. Palmer? I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is there a problem?”
“A big problem. Why didn’t you tell me your containers are contaminated?”
Silence. “Did something happen?”
“I got a phone call is what happened, from someone at the World Health Organization. He tells me your containers are contaminated and I need to dump them in the sea before tomorrow.”
More silence. “Who exactly called you?”
“A man named Jordan Evans.”
“Did he give you a number?”
“Have you not heard from them?”
“No. We haven’t.”
“So you know nothing about this?”
“Not a thing.”
Palmer frowned. “I thought they’d have called you first.”
“Of course they would have. Which leads me to believe this Mr. Evans isn’t who he claims to be.”
“So you think he was lying about them behind contaminated?”
“Mr. Palmer, I can assure you, the only things in those containers are what we put there. Whatever this man told you is a lie. Now, could you give me the phone number? I’d like to check it out.”
After hanging up, Palmer didn’t know what to think. If Mr. Evans had truly been from the WHO, surely he would have called Hidde-Kel by now, but could Palmer take the chance of ignoring the warning?
There was one thing he could do that might answer the question. Check out one of the containers himself. If he took appropriate precautions, he should be able to protect himself from anything inside. The closest one was only ten minutes away, right in Perth.
Making up his mind, he called Cora again. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Just tell everyone to hold tight until I return.”
“Can I at least tell them what you want them to do?”
“I’ll explain everything when I get back.”
He never got that chance. The explosion that killed him when he opened the container meant that no one at Palmer Transport amp; Shipping knew anything about Mr. Evans’s warning.
34
I.D. MINUS 6 HOURS 49 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 4:11 AM
“Rowan, report,” security officer Phillips said into the radio.
Nothing.
“Rowan, this is base. Are you receiving me?”
No response.
Rowan was a minute overdue checking in. Ten minutes ago, in his last report, he had made no indication of problems, radio or otherwise, but with the severe conditions on Yanok Island, that could change in seconds.
“Rowan, this is base. Report.”
Still receiving no response, Phillips contacted the watch officer. This being the day it was, the DOP’s personal aide, Major Ross, was serving in the role.
Ross’s voice came over the receiver. “This is the watch officer.”
“I have a non-response from perimeter security.”
“Who’s out there?”
“Benjamin Rowan, sir.”
“How long is he overdue?”
Phillips glanced at the clock on his screen. “Two minutes.”
The patrol officers were drilled on keeping religiously to their check-in schedules, so even a delay of half a minute was unusual.
“Had he reported any previous problems?”
“No, sir.”
“Send out a search team.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
35
I.D. MINUS 5 HOURS 28 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 5:32 AM
Ash checked the map, then nodded ahead. “We should be able to see the outpost from that ridge.”
Chloe gave him a nod, but said nothing, conserving her strength.
Around them, the wind was gusting, pushing at their backs as if urging them onward.
When they finally neared the top of the ridge, they dropped to their stomachs and inched the rest of the way up. The outpost was right where he’d expected it, about a quarter-mile away. It was a large structure, clad in snow, with light streaming out through several windows. There was no one visible through them, but it was early so that wasn’t surprising.
“They’re not going to be expecting anyone at this time of morning,” Chloe said. “Might be a good time to try and get in close.”
Ash pulled out their binoculars, flipped them to night vision, and surveyed the landscape ahead. Between the ridge and the outpost, there was no place to hide except against the building itself. As he searched for some way they might be able to sneak in, he couldn’t help but wonder how many people they’d have to get through to stop the Project’s plan before it could begin.
Stop it, he told himself. One task at a time. Just get to the building, and then you can figure out what’s next.
“Take a look,” he said.
As he handed the binoculars to Chloe, something crunched on the ice behind them.
He whirled around just in time to see the dark shape of a man rushing at him. He tried to roll out of the way, but the person piled into his shoulder, knocking him flat on his stomach.
He shoved back against the man’s chest, hoping to push him off so he could get away, but the guy was not only big, he was strong. The attacker pulled Ash to his feet, lifted him in the air, and slammed him back into the hard ice. For several seconds, Ash lay there, unable to move.
As soon as he could, he turned his head to look for Chloe, hoping she’d gotten away. But she was pinned to the ground, by a clone of the guy who’d jumped Ash.
Footsteps again, crunching toward him. Then a new figure stood above him. A hand went up to the face and removed the protective mask. A flashlight flicked on, and suddenly he could see who it was.
“Ash. What a nice surprise,” Olivia Silva said.
The last and only time Ash had seen Olivia in person was through a transparent wall that looked into the cell she lived in beneath the Bluff. Now their positions were reversed and he was the captive.
“I understand my information helped, and you were able to save your kids,” she said.
He and Chloe were on their feet now, three armed men standing behind them to make sure they didn’t try to run.
“It did. Thank you,” he said, meaning it.