Ward was antsy. He'd already lost his prized creations. He wanted to find out if he'd lost everything. "When are we going after the remains and the backpacks?"
Freeman was examining the cubicles. "We wait until we get reinforcements. I've got a reaction force team coming from Fort Campbell. When they get here we'll go looking. My headquarters in Washington is also sending a team, but it'll take them a little longer to arrive." He pointed to the carnage. "They'll handle this."
Freeman swung the cubicle doors back and forth. The doors could be opened either manually from the outside or electronically by the computer. There was no sign of the doors being forced from the inside. "How did these get opened? And the inner containment doors?"
Ward summarized what he had gleaned from the computer log. "Those were opened by the guard in response to computer prompts when the power went off. We keep the environment inside the cubes controlled — mainly for monitoring purposes — and without power the Synbats would have eventually suffocated. Opening them increased the amount of oxygen, since they had access to all the air inside the inner containment. If the guard hadn't opened them, the Synbats would have been dead within twenty-five minutes." Ward shook his head. "The guard was supposed to call the doctor on duty before he did anything, but I guess he reacted to the computer prompts."
"What about the containment doors?"
"I'm not sure we'll ever be able to piece together exactly what happened with those. The guard's key is still in the outer one, so that was used to open them. I'm not sure how the inner one got open. As I said, that idiot was instructed to call me or Doctor Merrit if something like a power failure occurred, yet he never did."
Freeman looked at Ward pointedly and then at the bodies. "I guess that 'idiot,' as you call him, either was in on what was going on or he never had the time to call. Who was on call last night?"
"Doctor Merrit."
Freeman looked up. "I assume she didn't get a call?"
"She didn't mention anything and I'm sure she would have." Ward was already thinking ahead. "What are we going to tell the army people when they get here?"
"We'll stick with the cover story in the contingency plan."
"That will work until we come upon the bodies. Then what?" Ward asked.
"With the charges in those collars, there won't be much in the way of bodies. As soon as they spot them, we have them back off. These guys are just the most immediate response we can get, and they all have security clearances."
The chatter of helicopter blades reverberated off the buildings surrounding pickup zone (PZ) 12. Before the aircraft came into sight, Riley could identify them from the sound as UH-1 Huey transports. As he split the team into lifts, he spotted the two helicopters coming from the east in the thin line of clear sky between the ground and low-lying gray clouds.
Riley pulled off his patrol cap and stuffed it into the cargo pocket of his lightweight camouflage fatigues. As the aircraft settled down on their skids, he moved forward toward the right side cargo door of the lead bird. Throwing his rucksack in ahead of him, he slid over on the gray web seats until he was facing forward on the left side. Four other members of the team clambered in behind. The crew chief slid the doors shut and the Huey lifted.
Riley reached over and tapped the crew chief, signaling for a headset. The young specialist indicated that there were no extra sets on board. Riley pointed at the rig that the crew chief wore. The man shook his head. Riley smiled benignly at the young man, pointed at his own subdued collar rank insignia of two black dots on a green bar, versus the young man's specialist rank, and signaled that he wanted to use the headset only for a minute. The crew chief reluctantly handed over the set.
Riley settled the two ear cups in place and then pushed the ON switch for the boom mike. "This is Chief Riley. I'm in charge of the guys back here. Can you all tell me where we're going?"
The pilot in the right front seat glanced over his shoulder. "I'm Captain Barret. I've got a grid out near Lake Barkley. There's supposed to be a building there and we're to land in the parking lot. I've been told there'll be an officer named Freeman who we're to take orders from. That's all we've got. Do you know what this is about?"
"No, sir. What you just said is about ten times more than I know. We were just told to get on board."
The pilot returned his attention to the front. "Then just relax and enjoy the ride. I've got an ETA of fourteen minutes."
Riley handed the headset back to the crew chief. For the first time since he had been briefed by Powers outside the headquarters, he had a chance to really think about the present situation. This whole thing was unusual. Riley knew that his team had been picked simply by virtue of its being in the right place at the right time in the right uniform. Riley didn't mind that too much. He was tired of sitting around in the team room. He liked action.
His thoughts flickered to the most recent real action he'd been in and the woman who'd been with him. When he'd returned with Kate Westland from Colombia after the mission against the drug cartel, Riley had thought that he was ready to settle down — at least for a while. Kate and he had entertained serious thoughts of marriage, but then the realities of their professional lives had kicked in. The CIA — grudgingly acknowledging Kate's crucial role in the successful completion of the mission, but seething over her disrespect for authority — had banished her from Langley to a field office in Atlanta, where she did little more than process paperwork. The army high command had shuffled Riley out of Fort Bragg as quickly as they could print the orders and had sent him to Fort Campbell.
Kate and Riley had kept a long-distance relationship going for a while, but Riley found himself absorbed by the demands of commanding his team. In addition, Kate had been getting very moody over the downward spiral of her career. The talk of marriage had disappeared from their conversation more than six months ago, and it had been two months since Riley had last driven across Tennessee down to Atlanta to see her. Kate had shown little interest in making the reverse drive. He'd talked to her on the phone two weeks ago and had been vaguely bothered by the lack of spark and her pervasive depression. Riley was concerned about Kate and her unhappiness. He was bitter at the CIA for treating her so poorly after she'd put her life on the line to save both him and Powers.
As the blades cut through the air above his head, Riley resolved that the first chance he had he would go down to Atlanta and see her. Their future as lovers might be over, but he knew that she needed a friend and he had not been a very good one lately. He hoped he wouldn't be deployed too long on this mission, whatever it was; he wanted to be there to support her while she sorted out her life.
He also was somewhat concerned about his team. Riley had been in charge of Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) 682 for only four months. The team was currently two personnel short of its authorized strength level of twelve. They lacked a commissioned officer as team leader, which explained why Riley — a warrant officer who would normally be the team's executive officer — was in charge. They also lacked a junior commo man. The personnel shortage in itself was no major problem; almost every team that Riley had been on had been short personnel. The thing that truly bothered him was the personalities of some of the team members, particularly the team sergeant.
Riley glanced across the cargo bay at the overweight figure of MSgt. Joe Knutz. The man was what Riley would define as R.O.A.D.: retired on active duty. Knutz had twenty-four years in the army, and in Riley's opinion he just didn't give a shit anymore. He was marking time, earning a larger pension percentage with each year he hung around. Once upon a time Knutz might have been a good soldier, but since his attitude had gone down the tubes, the rest of his abilities had followed suit, making the team sergeant more of a burden than an asset. Over the past month, Riley had been consulting with the B Company sergeant major, trying to work out a way to ease Knutz off the team into a relatively harmless slot. Riley was tired of doing the work of team leader and team sergeant.