Colonel Nuncio took the last exit before the one that went into the park, instead breaking off onto a two-lane blacktop road and slowing down. Presently they encountered a police car whose occupant, standing alongside it, waved them through. Two minutes more, and they were parked outside what appeared to be a tunnel with a steel door sitting partially open. Nuncio popped open his door, and Clark did the same, then walked quickly into the entrance.
"Your Spanish is very literate, Senor Clark. But I cannot place your accent."
"Indianapolis," John replied. It would probably be the last light moment of the day. "How are the bad guys talking to you?"
"What language, you mean? English so far -"
And that was the first good break of the day. For all his expertise, Dr. Bellow's language skills were not good, and he would take point as soon as his car arrived, in about five minutes.
The park's alternate command center was a mere twenty meters inside the tunnel. The door was guarded by yet another Civil Guard, who opened it and saluted Colonel Nuncio.
"Colonel." It was another cop, John saw.
"Senor Clark, this is Captain Gassman.- Handshakes were exchanged.
"Howdy. I am John Clark. My team is a few minutes out. Can you please update me on what's happening?"
Gassman waved him to the conference table in the middle of the room whose walls were lined with TV cameras and other electronic gear whose nature was not immediately apparent. A large map/diagram of the park was laid out.
"The criminals are all here," Gassman said, tapping the castle in the middle of the park. "We believe there to be ten of them, and thirty-five hostages, all children. I have spoken with them several times. My contact is a man, probably a Frenchman, calling himself One. The conversations have come to nothing, but we have a copy of their demands-a dozen convicted terrorists, mainly in French custody, but some in Spanish prisons as well." Clark nodded. He had all this already, but the diagram of the park was new. He was first of all examining sightlines, what could be seen and what could not. "What about where they are, blueprints, I mean."
"Here," a park engineer said, sliding the castle blueprints on the table. "Windows here, here, here, and here. Stairs and elevators as marked." Clark referenced them against the map. "They have stair access to the roof, and that's forty meters above street level. They have good line of sight everywhere, down all the streets."
"If I want to keep an eye on things, what's the best place?"
"That's easy. The Dive Bomber ride, top of the first hill. You're damned near a hundred fifty meters high there."
"That's nearly five hundred feet," Clark said, with some measure of incredulity.
"Biggest 'coaster in the world, sir," the engineer confirmed. "People come from all over to ride this one. The ride sits in a slight depression, about ten meters, but the rest of it's pretty damned tall. If you want to perch somebody, that's the spot."
"Good. Can you get from here to there unseen?"
"The underground, but there're TV cameras in it-" He traced his hand over the map. "Here, here, here, and another one there. Better to walk on the surface, but dodging all the cameras won't be easy."
"Can you turn them off?"
"We can override. the primary command center from here, yes-hell, if necessary, I can send people out to pull the wires."
"But if we do that, it might annoy our friends in the castle," John noted. "Okay, we need to think that one through before we do anything. For the moment," Clark told Nuncio and Gassman, "I want to keep them in the dark on who's here and what we're doing. We don't give them anything for free, okay?"
Both cops nodded agreement, and John saw in their eyes a desperate sort of respect. Proud and professional as they were, they had to feel some relief at having him and his team on the scene to take charge of the situation, and also to take over the responsibility for it. They could get credit for supporting a successful rescue operation, and they could also stand back and say that whatever went wrong wasn't their fault. The bureaucratic mind was part and parcel of every government employee in the known world.
"Hey, John." Clark turned. It was Chavez, with Covington right behind him. Both team leaders strode in, wearing their black assault gear now, and looking to the others in the room like angels of death. They came to the conference table and started looking at the diagrams.
"Domingo, this is Colonel Nuncio and Captain Gassman."
"Good day," Ding said in his Los Angeles Spanish, shaking hands. Covington did the same, speaking his own language.
"Sniper perch here?" Ding asked at once, tapping the Dive Bomber. "I saw the thing from the parking lot. Some ride. Can I get Homer there unobserved?"
"We're working on that right now."
Noonan came in next, his backpack full of electronics gear. "Okay, this looks pretty good for our purposes," he observed, checking all the TV screens out.
"Our friends have a duplicate facility here."
"Oops," Noonan said. "Okay, first, I want to shut down the cell phone nodes."
"What?" Nuncio asked. "Why?"
"In case our friends have a pal outside with a cell phone to tell them what we're doing, sir," Clark answered.
"Ah. Can I help?"
Noonan handled the answer. "Have your people go to each node and have the technicians insert these disks into their computers. There are printed instructions with each."
"Filipe!" Nuncio turned and snapped his fingers. A moment later his man had the disks and orders, leaving the room with them.
"How deep underground are we?" Noonan asked next.
"No more than five meters."
"Rebarred concrete overhead?"
"Correct," the park engineer said.
"Okay, John, our portable radios should work fine." Then teams -1 and -2 entered the command center. They crowded around the conference table.
"Bad guys and hostages here," John told them.
"How many?" Eddie Price asked.
"Thirty-five hostages, all kids, two of them in wheelchairs. Those are the two who are not French."
"Who's been talking to them?" This was Dr. Bellow.
"I have," Captain Gassman answered. Bellow grabbed him and walked him to the corner for a quiet chat.
"First of all, overwatch," Chavez said. "We need to get Homer to the top of that ride… unseen… How do we do that?"
"There's people moving around on the TV screens," Johnston said, turning to look. "Who are they?"
"Park people," Mike Dennis said. "We have them moving around to make sure all our guests are out." It was the routine shutdown procedure, albeit many hours off in time.
"Get me some coveralls… but I still have to pack my rule. You have mechanics here?"
"Only about a thousand," the park manager replied.
"Okay, then that's what I am, toolbox and all. You have the rides running?"
"No, they're all shut down."
"The more things moving, the more they have to watch," Sergeant Johnston told his boss.
"I like it," Chavez agreed, looking up at Clark.
"So do I. Mr. Dennis, turn them all on, if you would, please."
"They have to be started up individually. We can turn them off from here by killing the power, but we can't turn them on from this position."
"Then get your people out to do it. Sergeant Johnston will go with your man to the'coaster. Homer, set up there. Your mission is to gather information and get it to us. Take the rifle and get zeroed."
"How high will I be?"
"About one hundred forty meters above the ground."
The sniper reached in his pocket for a calculator and switched it on to make sure it worked. "Fair enough. Where do I change?"