Lisa let out a breath she must have been holding with a loud sigh. “That was amazing.”
Painter noted another two Ospreys parked farther away, with crews working around them, suggesting they’d just arrived, a part of the mobilization happening here. A bevy of other Marine helicopters dotted the field.
“Looks like everyone took up your invitation,” Lisa said.
Before leaving the coast, Painter had laid down a rough sketch of the order of operations for this mission: search and rescue, evacuation, site quarantine, investigation, and finally cleanup. The first three duties were already under way, allowing Painter’s team to proceed directly with their investigation.
He knew where he wanted to start. The first responders — a U.S. Marine search-and-rescue team — had saved the life of a witness, a local park ranger who had happened to be on-site when the base exploded. Painter had heard about the firefight atop a neighboring hill, which raised a substantial mystery: Who were those hostiles and what did they have to do with what had transpired at the base?
Only one person potentially had those answers.
And from what Painter had heard en route — she wasn’t talking.
Jenna didn’t bother to check the doorknob. She knew she was locked inside. She paced the length of the space. Judging from the chalkboard in front and the rows of seats, she figured it was a small classroom. Out the third-story window, she spotted a dark ski lift in the distance, along with a row of stables. Directly below her, an ambulance slowly sidled away from the entrance to the building.
The departing EMS team had already seen to her injuries: wrapping her arm, suturing the small laceration across her collarbone, then finally injecting her with antibiotics. They offered to shoot her up with pain relievers, but she opted to simply pop some ibuprofen.
Have to keep my head clear.
But her growing anger wasn’t helping.
Nikko, sprawled on the floor, watched her, his gaze tracking her as she stalked from one side of the classroom to the other. A bowl of water and an empty food dish rested beside him. A tray holding a cellophane-wrapped ham sandwich and a carton of milk sat on one of the desks. She ignored it, still far from having an appetite.
She checked her watch.
How long are they going to keep me here?
The Marine who had rescued her — Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Drake — had told her she would be debriefed by someone from Washington. Yet it had been over an hour since she had arrived here.
So where the hell is this guy?
The base commander had stopped to check in on her, asking her some questions, but she had stonewalled him. She would tell her story once, but only after getting some answers first.
A scuff and rattle drew her attention back to the door.
Finally…
She withdrew a few steps and crossed her arms, ready for a fight. The door opened, but it was not the man she had been expecting. Gunnery Sergeant Drake entered. He looked refreshed, his dark brown hair wet and combed back. He wore a loose pair of khaki trousers and a matching T-shirt that clung tightly across his chest, exposing muscular arms.
While she wanted to be perturbed at the intrusion, she found her arms uncrossing, doing her best to look casual. She was sure she failed miserably.
He smiled at her, which didn’t help matters.
“Just bringing a gift from a friend,” he said, his voice a deep bass that felt warmer than before, no longer curt and hardened by the weight of command. “Thought maybe you’d be willing to share.”
He lifted an arm to reveal a large brown paper sack, slightly damp along the bottom edge.
“What is it?” She took a step closer, then a familiar aroma struck her.
It can’t be.
“Baby back ribs from Bodie Mike’s Barbecue,” he confirmed. “Also coleslaw and fries.”
“How…?” she asked, stammering in confusion.
He grinned wider, showing perfect teeth. “We’ve got people flying back and forth between here and Mono Lake, coordinating the evacuation. It seems a friend of yours decided to send back a care package from Lee Vining before the town was evacuated. He thought you might be hungry after all of the excitement.”
Only one person knew she was here.
She smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages. “Bill, I could kiss you.”
Drake’s dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “If you want, I’m sure I could relay that back to him?”
“How about I just split the fries with you instead?” She moved to one of the desks.
“What about the ribs?”
“Nope. They’re all mine.”
He shifted a desk closer and swung a leg over the chair to sit next to her. As he ripped open the bag, she quickly found her appetite again. She was halfway through the slab of the ribs, with Nikko firmly at her knee, a hopeful expression fixed on his face, when the door opened again.
A contingent of strangers entered. It had to be the party from D.C. After waiting for so long, she now wished they’d leave and come back later.
She wiped her fingers.
Drake stood quickly and stiffly as the base commander entered with the others. “Colonel Bozeman.”
“At ease, Drake.” The commander looked to be in his early sixties, with silver hair to match the eagle resting above rows of colorful ribbons on his khaki shirt. His eyes settled on the half-finished meal. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, Ms. Beck, but this is Director Painter Crowe, an adjunct with DARPA. He has some questions before we get you back to your fellow rangers.”
The man’s two companions were introduced. They were clearly related, likely brother and sister, maybe even twins, but she concentrated on the man in front. The newcomer had black hair, with a single lock gone snowy white and tucked behind an ear. His complexion was clearly of Native American heritage, but his sharp blue eyes hinted at some European blood in there, too. She wanted to snap at him, but something in his manner defused her. Maybe it was the shadow of a welcoming smile or the intelligent glint to those eyes. This was clearly no meddling bureaucrat or condescending intelligence agent.
Still, she found her hand covering the phone in her pocket.
I want answers.
Crowe turned to the colonel. “Could we have some privacy?”
“Certainly.” Bozeman waved to Drake. “Let’s give them the room.”
Drake followed him out, but not before bumping his fist with the blond man who remained leaning against the door. “Good to see you, Josh.”
“Wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me, too.” He grinned broadly. “But that’s why they pay us the big bucks, isn’t it?”
As the two Marines left and the door closed, Crowe turned his laser focus back to Jenna. “Ms. Beck, you’ve been through a lot, but I was hoping you could give us some additional information about what happened tonight. Run through events in as much detail as possible. I’m especially curious about the group of men who attacked you atop the hill.”
She stood her ground. “Not before you tell me what really was going on inside that research station. It’s put the entire basin at risk. Not only the fragile ecosystem here that took millennia to build, but also endangering my friends and colleagues.”
“I wish I could tell you,” he answered.
“Wish or won’t?”
“To be honest, we don’t know the exact nature of the work. The base was headed by Dr. Kendall Hess, a very secretive fellow.”
Jenna frowned, remembering the astrobiologist who had come down to Mono Lake. She recalled her conversation with him over a cup of coffee at Bodie Mike’s. Even back then, she’d been struck by how guarded he was, how carefully he chose his words.