We were separated into four groups and sent to smaller rooms to continue the briefing. The four of us went with the group that ended up in a large carpeted meeting room at the Caesar’s Palace hotel. The room had windows, so we were able to see without headlamps. That was great. But there were no chairs. That wasn’t so great. We had to sit on the floor.
The four Chiefs rotated through, each giving us a little more information. With a smaller group we were able to ask questions.
“This all sounds great,” one guy asked Harris. “But there’s a whole lot of open desert between here and there. What’s stopping those Retros from taking us out before we even get there? I mean, we’ve got some nifty little bombs, but there won’t be any armored tanks running cover for us.”
“Valid question,” Harris answered with cool efficiency. “Our plan is based on one very important bit of information. We do not believe that the base is manned.”
Everyone erupted with surprise at hearing that.
Harris sat calmly, waiting for everyone to settle down again.
Kent was the one who stood and put it right to him.
“That’s crazy,” he said. “It’s an Air Force base with hundreds of planes. They’ve got to be guarding that!”
“You would think,” Harris answered. “But we have had eyes on that base for weeks. Mostly the eyes of the Paiute Native American tribe. This is their world.”
I remembered the people on horseback in the Valley of Fire who watched as we were being captured by the biker survivors. They must have been tribe members.
“When the base was operative, before the attack, you couldn’t get within five miles of the place. The perimeter was under constant surveillance. Now we have scouts who have gotten close enough to see the planes taxiing on the runways. Some have even walked right up to the aircraft parked on the periphery. They’ve taken note of all the comings and goings. Only on a rare occasion have they seen a living person. So there are people on the base, but not enough of a force to actually defend it.”
“How can that be?” someone asked from the back. “Somebody has to be operating the planes.”
“They’re drones,” I said, answering the question for Harris. “We’ve seen dozens of wrecks. Close up. They aren’t large enough for a pilot. They’re just flying weapons.”
“Exactly,” Harris said. “What we don’t know is where they are being controlled from. At Area 51 there are very few people. We’ve seen no deliveries of supplies. No arrivals or departures by plane or car.”
“So the base itself could be a drone,” Tori said, thinking aloud.
“That’s what we think. And because of that, we believe we can send in small teams to get to the planes. Starting two hours before sunset, teams of four will take off in cars, five minutes apart, headed for the base. Each team’s map will be marked with the route they should take, where they should leave the main road, and how they should approach the base. All this was provided by the Paiute. Each team member will have ten of the charges you saw Cutter demonstrate. The task is simple: Fix a charge on a plane, activate the timer, repeat the process until all the charges have been set, and get out. You should be at the base for no more than five minutes.”
Kent asked, “And where do we go after that?”
“Anywhere you’d like,” Harris replied. “Except here or Los Angeles.”
“Or any other big city,” Kent added.
“This is way riskier than you’re thinking,” I warned. “There may not be many people there, but these planes have eyes. If one of them catches sight of a caravan of cars headed their way, I don’t care if the operator is in the cockpit or sitting at a control console in Russia: They’ll come after us.”
“Agreed,” Harris said. “It’s the riskiest aspect of the mission. Our hope is that the enemy will not anticipate us doing anything so audacious and therefore won’t be scanning the airfield for intruders. Perhaps there will be an advantage to the fact that they plan to attack Las Vegas tonight. Their attention will be focused here and not on their own base.”
Tori said, “So basically we’re just hoping they won’t be looking.”
“Yes, but our confidence is high.”
Tori and I exchanged looks. Our confidence wasn’t as high.
The briefing continued with Cutter demonstrating how to set the charges again and reminding us that they will detonate thirty minutes after the timer is activated. Matt offered us escape routes and places to disappear after the mission. Charlotte came in to announce that once the mission was complete, the Chiefs would regroup at a yet-to-be-announced location and begin transmitting again to bring the survivors back together.
The whole mission sounded shaky, but the idea of taking out seven hundred of those retro planes made me want to risk it.
By the time we had finished all of our briefings, it was midafternoon, a few hours before the sabotage teams would start heading toward Area 51. Several people came in with food. They gave us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, canned fruit, and energy drinks. It wasn’t until I had to go to the bathroom and was sent with an escort that I realized nobody was ever left alone. Matt hadn’t been kidding. Whoever stayed for the briefing now had vital information that could be sent to the Retros. They weren’t taking any chances.
I wondered if my warning to Kent and Olivia had been real. Had the people who took off really been allowed to go? Or were their bodies now lying in the desert? I didn’t want to know.
When I got back from the bathroom, I saw Kent sitting by himself at the far end of the huge room, eating his sandwich. As if the danger of this mission weren’t enough, I had the additional stress of knowing that one of my friends might be a Retro infiltrator. My hope was that Granger was wrong about that, but since Jon proved to be a rat, the possibility didn’t seem so remote.
In that split second I made a decision to try to find out if I was going to be in even more danger on this already crazy mission, so I took a chance and approached Kent.
“Nervous?” Kent asked as I walked up to him.
He had no idea how appropriate a question that was.
“I gotta ask you something,” I said while standing over him. “When we were at Faneuil Hall, where did you disappear to everyday?”
Kent stopped chewing. He wasn’t expecting that question.
“Whenever I asked, you got all angry and told me to mind my own business,” I added.
“Yeah, so?” he said casually. “Now you think it’s your business?”
“Yeah, I do,” I said boldly.
“Why do you care?” he asked evasively.
“Because after what happened with Jon, I’m not so sure I trust anybody anymore,” I said, pretty much spelling out my fear. “We were in a camp run by Retros. What were you doing?”
He really didn’t expect that from me. Kent sat there and stared me right in the eyes for a good long time. I tensed up, expecting him to leap up and jump me. Kent was a hothead. I knew that from playing football with him.
If he was innocent, he could easily have gotten so pissed at me for questioning him that he might lose it and lash out.
If he was guilty, he was trapped in the middle of a whole bunch of people who just might tear him apart if the truth came out.
Keeping me quiet might be his only play. If he attacked, I was ready.
He finally took a deep breath and dropped his sandwich on the floor.
“I just lost my appetite,” he said ruefully.
I didn’t relax.
“I don’t owe you any explanation, Pierce,” he said. “We’re not friends, and I’ve never liked you much. But we’ve been through a lot together, and I guess that counts for something, so I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t tell you what I was doing because I was embarrassed.”