“Sergeant Major,” Riggs said, indicating his senior enlisted man who had followed him through all those assignments over the years and owed his career to him. “The next man who speaks out against me is speaking out against the country and committing treason. Feel free to shoot him.”
The Sergeant Major drew his own sidearm, locked and loaded.
General Riggs lowered his arms, put the gun back down on the Constitution, and stretched a hand out to the officer on either side of him. “Let us pray, gentlemen, and then let us take action.”
Everyone in the PEOC linked hands and Riggs led them in a heartfelt prayer.
And spread Cherry Tree throughout the room.
Inside Deep Six, Brennan cowered in the corner of his cell. In the adjacent cell, Wahid was staring at him, arms folded, waiting.
“I’m sorry,” Brennan said. “I didn’t invent the stuff. Really.”
Wahid said nothing, Cherry Tree having finally worn off, while Brennan was still in the throes of it.
“I know it’s wrong,” Brennan said. “But—” He was cut off as another burst of automatic fire echoed through the cavern. The muzzle flashes were like a strobe light in the dim lighting. They came from the far end of the cavern where the guards were quartered.
Deep Six consisted of the empty, original reservoir for Raven Rock, over three hundred feet long by eighty wide. Cages for prisoners were set in clusters along the floor. The walls and tops of the cages were built from industrial fencing, laid over steel pipes. The floor was the original rock of the reservoir. The only item in each cage, beside the prisoner, was a bucket for sanitation purposes.
The mercenaries who ran the place were quartered in several wooden huts. Lighting came from bulbs spaced far apart on electrical cords stretched along the ceiling. The entire atmosphere was one of gloom, darkness, and the end of life as those here had known it.
The guards were a mixture of former thugs from various security agencies in Eastern Europe and the Middle East. Most were wanted men in their home countries. They were here for the pay and the promise of moving on to a nonextraditable country with enough in a Swiss account so they could live out the rest of their days.
Most of them, anyway.
But a good percentage were here because they liked what they did. Sadists.
A metal chain had been looped around Brennan’s neck by the two guards who’d brought him in. Attached to it was a yellow card with nothing on it. He noted that Wahid had a red card.
Seeing the glance, Wahid smiled and finally spoke in surprisingly good English. “Yellow means you are not to be tortured. Not yet. Red means they can do what they want. Torture. Rape. Kill me if they please, now, because I told all I knew during your experiment. Before that, my card was black. Do anything they want, but don’t kill. I do not expect to last another day here. I have heard there is a card colored green which means one is to be out-processed and released. I am told no one in here has ever been given this green card.”
More firing from the vicinity of the barracks.
“Then again,” Wahid said, “I think the guards are more interested in killing each other right now than prisoners. There are ancient ethnic and religious differences among them. Christian. Muslims of various sects. Men from tribes that hate each other. Whoever survives will eventually get to us, I’m sure.” Wahid cocked his head, considering the cowering Brennan as he might an object of interest and slight disgust.
“Tell me, since you must tell the truth. Do you really believe what your country is doing here is right?” He waved a hand, taking in the cavern.
“No.” Brennan couldn’t stop from giving the answer, even though he’d always agreed with Riggs that America’s enemies had to be dealt with harshly.
Brennan was on the rock floor, knees drawn up to his chest, as far away from Wahid as he could get. In the cage on the other side, a naked man was strung up from a metal bar holding the mesh that was the roof of their cages. He wasn’t moving, his feet dangling limply. Brennan feared the man was dead.
“These monsters here tortured me and tortured me and I never talked,” Wahid said. “Until your science. So are you going to use this Cherry Tree for interrogation, as you use drones to attack from above? So clean, so sterile, for those who implement it. Not so much for those on the receiving end. You have this Cherry Tree in you and you ended up here. How does that feel?”
“Terrible,” Brennan said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I think you’ve done many things wrong,” Wahid said. “Haven’t you?”
Brennan sobbed. “Yes. Yes, I have.”
“I think this weapon, this Cherry Tree, is much more dangerous than your scientists who invented it realize.”
“It is!” Brennan cried out. A single pistol shot echoed and someone screamed in a cluster of cages about thirty feet away. Brennan could see a guard walking along the cages, peering in. The guard stopped, pointed his gun and fired. A scream from inside the cage.
“He is not shooting to kill,” Wahid said. “He is taking pleasure in wounding. I have seen such men. It does not matter what side one is on or what the cause is, such men exist everywhere.”
“It’s out,” Brennan couldn’t stop himself. “Cherry Tree. I infected the president’s daughter, I think. I don’t know who else is infected.”
Wahid sneered. “Blowback. Your great country is excellent at that. You send death and destruction out into the world and then are amazed when it comes back on you. Now it seems you are sending truth out into the world. It will be most interesting to see what comes back.”
“They can’t shoot me,” Brennan said. “I work for the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. My father commanded NATO!”
“I think the rules,” Wahid said, “your status, who your father was, the colors on the cards, aren’t going to matter soon. If the truth becomes the rule in here, those who enjoy the kill, the pain, they will take over. Because in crisis, the ruthless almost always prevail over the good.” Wahid took a step closer to the grating that separated Brennan from him. “But if I get the chance, I will kill you with my bare hands and my teeth. I will rip your throat out.”
Wahid spit through the grating.
Roland fired a long, sustained burst from the M249, chewing up the target silhouette until he separated the top from the bottom. He sighed contentedly as he lowered the smoking barrel. It wasn’t the same as his old companion, not having tasted combat yet, but it was an all right first date.
The target had been set up along the edge of Groom Mountain, so the rounds went through and into the side of the rock. Everyone had checked and rechecked their weapons, gear, and ammunition. Eagle had walked around the Snake a half-dozen times. Mac had ordered extra demolitions, assuming that wherever they were going, the nukes were going to be well secured. He wasn’t going to be caught in a tunnel waiting on Roland’s muscle to open a door this time. He was checking an array of shaped charges, arranging them in order of strength and yield.
And Nada and Kirk were seated in the cargo bay. Kirk was maintaining the secure satcom link to Milstar and had a printout of frequencies, call signs, and code words on his lap, ready to supply as needed to Nada.
Ms. Jones had told them the White House was locked down with Moms inside. And that General Riggs had secured himself in the Presidential Emergency Operations Center.
“Seven Days in May,” Eagle said, stopping his pacing about for the moment as he heard the last part.
Nada looked up from the radio. “What?”
“A classic,” Eagle said. “Published in 1962. About a military coup being planned because the president was signing an arms reduction treaty with the Russians. The author wrote it after meeting General LeMay, who scared the shit out of him.”