A couple of soft bursts sounded out. One of the fence cutters flew backward and crashed to the ground. Then another cutter twisted violently. He too fell to the pavement.
“Someone’s shooting.” Beverly’s jaw hardened as she leaned closer to the partition. “It must be the Mint Police.”
Graham hit the intercom button. “It might be a good time to skedaddle.”
The corporal’s reply came quickly. “No can do.”
“But the president—”
“I just received word that President Walters wishes the fleet to stay put until further notice. But don’t worry about a thing. This vehicle is practically bulletproof.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Practically?”
Graham released the intercom. “The president’s lost it.”
“He’s obsessed,” Beverly replied.
“Same thing.”
“I think I see the shooters.” Squinting, she studied the building. “In the sentinel stations.”
Four concrete sentinel stations surrounded the building, one in each corner. Additional stations were located on the upper levels. Their interiors were dark, but tiny sparks and puffs of smoke shed light on their occupants.
Soldiers sprang out of the armored cars. More gunfire rang out from both sides. A brutal skirmish followed that quickly cut down the rest of the fence cutters as well as their protection detail. The soldiers gamely returned fire from behind their vehicles. But despite their greater numbers, their rounds did little damage to the sentinel stations.
I glanced at the fence. One of the fence cutters squirmed along the ground, blood pouring out of his body at a sickening pace. He was alive, but wouldn’t last long in that condition.
How do I get myself into these situations?
I wrenched my door open and ran outside. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw soldiers retreat to two of the vehicles. Engines fired up. Groaning loudly, turrets twisted toward the sentinel stations. Booming blasts rang out.
I reached the squirming fence cutter in a matter of seconds. He wore body armor, but a bullet had nicked him in the neck. I grabbed him under the armpits. Blood slipped between my fingers, soaking my palms. “How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to keep him from passing out on me.
He gurgled in response, spitting blood all over the ground.
“On second thought, forget I asked.”
Moving quickly, I backpedaled toward our vehicle, dragging the injured cutter along the pavement.
More blasts filled the air. A sentinel station positioned on the roof dissolved into concrete chunks. Taking aim, soldiers cut down a group of officers trapped in the rubble. Another station, the one to my immediate left, exploded a second later. The smoke quickly cleared and I saw numerous bodies, blackened with soot.
I dragged the cutter behind our vehicle. Beverly slid through the open door. Clamping her hands over his wound, she tried to staunch the bleeding.
Graham stuck his head out of the SUV. “So, what do you think of the depository?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “Three stars. Maybe four.”
“Not five?” He arched an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Too much blood for you?”
“Not enough gold.”
Beverly, still applying pressure, shook her head. “What’s the matter with you two?” But there was a slight grin upon her lips even as she spoke the words.
A pair of medics, ducking low, ran toward us. They laid a stretcher on the ground and applied compact pressure to the cutter’s wounds. After the bleeding had slowed, they rolled him onto the stretcher and hurried away.
I wiped my hands on my pants and took a deep breath. Bursts of gunfire echoed in my ears. The air smelled of cordite and I tasted smoke on my tongue.
“The sides look evenly matched,” Graham observed.
“Not for long,” I replied.
“What makes you say that?”
“The Army’s got bigger guns.”
The gunfire continued for another few minutes. Then it died off and I began to hear screams and wails of agony.
I looked over the SUV’s roof. The sentinel stations had been reduced to dust. Corpses of Mint Police officers were strewn across the depository’s roof and the outer grounds.
Shifting my gaze, I saw dents and scratches in the armored cars and SUVs. Soldiers lay bleeding on the ground. Some were moving and moaning. Others were still, quiet.
K.J., armed with a rifle, strode around the back of our car. He spotted us and made a beeline to our position. “Why aren’t you in your vehicle?”
“I don’t get it,” Beverly said, changing the subject. “Why’d they fire on us?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” President Walters thrust open his door and marched over to join our group. “Officer Stevens is a lunatic.”
K.J. looked annoyed. “Please return to your vehicle, Mr. President. And just so you know, I’m switching tactics. We’re going to fall back, wait them out.”
“Negative,” the president said. “Proceed as planned.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’ve got at least four dead and six men with serious wounds.”
“We’re under a time crunch, Colonel. I need this wrapped up before the media catches wind of it. Can you do that for me?”
K.J. exhaled. “That depends, sir.”
“On what?”
His gaze shot toward the depository. “On what other nasty surprises Milt has waiting for us.”
Chapter 46
Grim-faced soldiers, their eyes flitting between the depository and the fence, cut the final rungs. A large section of fencing fell away, colliding with the pavement and kicking dust and dirt into the air.
More soldiers, dressed in body armor, helmets, and camouflage uniforms, slipped through the opening. They spread out across the driveway with clockwork precision.
As the armored vehicles approached the gap, I studied the next fence. It was arranged to form an octagon around the depository. Weathered signs warned of high voltage electricity. Gates with electronic locks, probably for guard shift changes, were built into the fence at various points. The area encompassed by the fence consisted mostly of grass. Parts of it were colored brilliant green and fluttered gently in the breeze. Other parts looked different. Stiffer, darker, and wind-resistant.
“Does that lawn look strange to you?” I asked from inside our SUV.
“Well, yeah.” Graham shrugged. “But it’s nothing a good watering couldn’t fix.”
“No, Cy’s right,” Beverly said. “It looks like two different types of grass. Ordinarily, I’d say it was just poor lawn work. But the lines are exacting. And that dark grass is so straight, so perfect. Almost as if…”
“As if it were fake.” I reached for the door. But static bursts of gunfire stopped me cold. Looking outside, I saw sections of dark grass lift up and out of the way. Strange pedestals rose out of underground silos. They moved up and down, twisting from side to side in haphazard fashion. Large machine gun installations, mounted on the pedestals, spat bullets in our direction.
Soldiers dove to the grass. The ground rippled. Gigantic blasts filled the air.
“Automatic guns and land mines.” Beverly’s fingers curled into fists. “K.J. wasn’t kidding about nasty surprises.”
Graham growled. “I’m liking this Milt character less and less by the second.”
I watched as another land mine exploded, blowing a hapless soldier to bits. The automatic gunfire grew fiercer, louder. I shifted my gaze around the area, searching for something I didn’t see. “Hey Dutch,” I said. “Imagine for a second that you work here.”
“The pay had better be good,” he replied. “Because the fringe benefits don’t look so hot.”
“What would you do if you got caught out here by accident?”