Gagnon turned up the volume.
Bowop-bowop.
Bowop-bowop.
“Is that them?” Wright asked.
Gagnon looked at the radio. “It’s the right frequency.”
“Which way is it coming from?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Gagnon banked the plane to the south to see if the signal strength would grow, but instead it diminished to almost nothing. When he turned back in the other direction, its intensity increased for a minute or two, then started to fade again. He brought the plane around once more, heading back to the point where the signal had been strongest. From there, it would have to be coming from somewhere off to one side or the other, but which one?
“You see anything out there?”
Wright was moving the light around. “No.”
As they neared the height of the signal, Gagnon mentally flipped a coin, then turned the plane east. Instead of fading this time, the signal got even stronger.
After a few seconds, Wright said, “Is that an island up ahead?”
Gagnon studied the ocean ahead of them. Sure enough, about a mile away, there was the tiny silhouette of a rocky hill sticking out of the water.
“Maybe they’re just stranded there,” Wright suggested, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.
Gagnon wasn’t quite ready to jump for joy yet. “Let’s find the signal first.”
As they flew closer, it was clear the signal was indeed coming from the island, specifically the northwest side. As soon as they were within range, Wright fired up the spotlight and aimed it at the tiny piece of land. At first all they saw were just rocks and a few patches of snow and ice. No sign that anyone had ever been there. But then, as the northwest edge came into view, they found what they were looking for.
Both of them stared silently at the debris caught in the circle of light. It was piled haphazardly on the beach. Not even close to a full boat’s worth, but enough for them to know that whatever vessel it had belonged to was unlikely to still be afloat. Wright panned the light over everything, then held it steady on one point as they flew by.
“There it is,” he said.
He didn’t have to elaborate. Gagnon had seen it, too. An empty life vest, stuck in the middle of the debris. The light near the top was blinking weakly in the night, at almost the same rhythm as the message of distress coming from the radio beacon buried somewhere inside the vest.
“Do you see them anywhere?”
“No. Go by again.”
In the end, they made four passes of the wreckage, and two complete circles around the island, but there was no sign of anyone, alive or dead.
“I don’t like it,” Gagnon said.
“What do you mean?”
Gagnon frowned. “Just enough wreckage to prove that something happened to the boat, with a life vest that still has an active emergency beacon conveniently washing ashore where it could easily be found? Does that seem likely to you?”
Wright was silent for a moment. “It could happen. The current could have washed it up.”
Gagnon stared back at his partner. “Did you look at the water? There weren’t a lot of waves on that beach. If there were, that stuff would be even more broken up than it is. I’ll bet you the current runs right past that end of the island.”
Wright looked out the window again. “You’re right. It does feel wrong.”
Gagnon took one last glimpse of the wreckage, and turned the plane back toward the small village where they were staying. Once the course was set, he picked up the satellite radio and called the Ranch.
“Bravo Four,” a voice at the Ranch answered.
“This is Brown,” Gagnon said.
“Go ahead, Brown.”
“Blair House,” he said, using the active code.
“Wanda June.”
Satisfied he was indeed speaking with the Ranch, Gagnon said, “Wreckage found. No apparent survivors.”
Momentary silence on the other end. “Please confirm. No apparent survivors.”
“Roger, Bravo Four. No survivors.”
“Any idea what happened?”
“Rough seas, maybe. A storm. It’s pretty rough out there. I’d say this is an unfortunate accident.”
Another pause. “Confirming.”
“Roger, Bravo Four. That’s what it is.”
“Roger, Brown. Get some rest. Will touch base in the morning with new assignment.”
“Will do, Bravo Four. Out.”
“They’re leaving,” the senior man said into the encrypted radio.
“You think they will be back?” Major Ross asked. He’d been patched in from Bluebird.
“No, sir. They’re returning to the outpost, then will be getting a new assignment in the morning. I think it worked.”
“Good. Return to base.”
Pax knocked on the door of Matt’s office.
“Come in,” Matt called out.
Upon entering, Pax found Rachel and Matt in the more casual sitting area in the front end of the room. “Sorry, but you wanted to see this.”
“Brown team found something?” Rachel asked.
Pax nodded grimly. “Yeah, but there’s more.”
He handed over a transcript of the conversation that had just come in. Rachel and Matt read it at the same time. Their first reaction was to the news that by all appearances, yellow team was dead. Their second was to the hidden message contained within brown team’s words.
“‘An unfortunate accident,’” Rachel read. She looked up. “That means…”
“…yellow team found Bluebird,” her brother finished.
6
The director of Preparation tapped the lever another half inch toward Hot. Within a second, steam began to rise from the water washing over him. While Bluebird was always kept at a warm, comfortable level, the frigid view outside often made him feel like he was freezing. Other than avoiding the windows, the best remedy was always a hot shower. He took at least two a day, sometimes three. Though the official allotment was one, that didn’t apply to him-like most of the other facility rules.
He was just starting to feel thawed out when the soft bong of his doorbell sounded in the other room. There was a time when he could have afforded to ignore it, but not now, not when they were this close to activation.
He turned off the water, and stuck his head out of the narrow stall. “One moment!”
He toweled off quickly, pulled on his slacks and shirt, then flipped on the monitor next to the door. His visitor was Carl Herlin, one of his aides.
The DOP opened the door. “Yes?”
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Major Ross wanted me to tell you they have the information, and that he would be in the map room if you’re looking for him.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”
He shut the door without waiting for a response, finished getting dressed, and headed out.
Technically, the map room was called Conference Room B. It received its unofficial name from the table that dominated the space. Using touch controls on either side, a map of any location on the planet in any format could be projected onto the tabletop from underneath. With another selection of the controls, the user could draw whatever they wanted on top of the map-lines, words, circles-and the resulting image could be saved and printed out.
Ross was leaning over the table when the DOP stepped inside. He instantly straightened up.
“Good evening, Director.”
The DOP walked up to the table. “I hear you have some news.”
“We think we’ve been able to pinpoint Bravo Four’s location, and by the size of it, I would guess that it’s their main headquarters. May I show you?”
The DOP dipped his head, and Ross touched the controls. On the table, a map of an area that encompassed parts of Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado appeared.
“Their return messages have been coming from here.” Ross touched a button, and a red circle appeared in the western portion of Montana, less than a hundred miles from the Canadian border.