"Oh, now, don’t blame Borman, because by that time he had been promoted to brigadier-general and was building a reputation as a security guru. Along the way a couple of maintenance workers were influenced into getting themselves shot."
"Just beautiful."
"I doubt the men on the entry teams who disappeared would think it was beautiful. Then again, we just don't know what to think. Hell, maybe it's some kind of paradise down there and all those guys just didn't want to come back."
He smiled a grim smile. "I guess I will find out, since my team is next in line."
"I understand you're still waiting on someone?"
"Yes," Gant answered. "Captain Brandon Twiste. He is what passes for our science officer. He is a doctor — a physician — and I think sometimes he tries to be my conscience. For some reason they sent him to The Tall Company facility in Moreno Valley, back home in California. Something about training, although I am not sure of much else."
"Tall was in on the original experiment. If we could get in touch with someone who knows anything about this Briggs guy it might help."
"Good luck on that, Colonel. Like I said, Twiste is training at The Tall Company Sciences facility at Moreno Valley. Borman ordered it. You start snooping around out there and you'll probably want to hide on the other side of that containment door if the general gets word of it. I don't get the impression that Borman is big on his subordinates showing initiative."
"Leave that to me, Major. Tall is a large organization and they are in tight with the military. I'll see what I can dig up."
Gant took a quick swig and then said, "Don't get me wrong, I wish you luck. A little info might help me extend my life span. Speaking of which, in all those files you dug through, did you find any info on what the Briggs experiment was about?"
"Only a little," she said. "Like I already told you, Briggs was digging around at the subatomic level. It was all subatomic particle research. Again, I'll do some snooping. General Borman is fairly anal about record keeping and we know Tall files everything away for future reference or, more likely, future billing purposes."
"That’s great," he said and tapped his wristwatch. "But the clock is ticking."
9
Campion leaned over the table and closely examined the map. Gant watched with despair — his position looked no better at Red Rock than it had back at Darwin.
Major Gant and Captain Campion had been playing the same World War II board game for more than a month. The map covered the European theater of the war, stretching from southern England to the Ural mountain range in Russia, from Norway to the battlefields of North Africa. Armies consisted of markers or counters depicting the types of units involved and their strength, each color-coded to reflex Axis, Western Allies, or Russian allegiance. Dice rolls based on odds decided combat results, while rules covered supply and initiative, making for a rather complex game, and that meant long, well-considered turns.
The board had sat in the recreation room at Darwin for several weeks. Prior to the Everglades excursion, Archangel had enjoyed a nice stretch of free time that allowed the two men to devote a fair amount of brain power to the battle.
When news came of their transfer, the Captain took pictures of the board and, after arriving at Red Rock earlier in the day, had spent over an hour painstakingly replicating the situation.
Gant knew Campion to be trustworthy, so every piece would be in its proper place, but that was not a good thing for the major, who commanded the Western Allies as well as the Russians.
Or rather, he commanded what was left of them.
Staying true to history, Campion's Wehrmacht had conquered Poland, France, the low countries, and Norway with ease, isolating the United Kingdom, although he eschewed history's Battle of Britain in order to keep the Luftwaffe at full strength for other endeavors.
In another contrast with history, Campion managed to use Italian forces to overrun all but a few hexes of North Africa, and had also subjugated the Balkans and Greece.
Game rules prevented the United States from entering the war for several more turns, leaving the fate of Europe in the hands of the Soviet Union, which Campion had assaulted with success on par with Hitler's real Operation Barbarossa.
Gant still held Moscow, Leningrad, and Stalingrad — the keys to victory — but his front line forces had been cut to ribbons. Furthermore, the onset of winter — which would produce game rules favorable for the Russian defense — was still several turns away.
His best remaining armies assembled around Kiev in the south, too far away to protect Moscow. Historically Hitler had diverted his panzers to destroy just such a large gathering of Soviet forces, but it appeared Campion seemed intent on avoiding that mistake, ignoring the threat to his southern flank in favor of the prize that seemed only a turn or two away.
Finally, after nearly an hour of studying his counters, Campion made one last move, sliding an infantry division away from the Leningrad front to the rear of a gathering spearhead of German panzers poised to strike at the Russian capital.
While Gant saw a tiny little cardboard marker sporting the NATO symbol for infantry move, he knew Campion envisioned the march of jackboots raising clouds of dust as they crossed Byelorussia.
They were not the only two in the rec room. Pearson sat in a corner next to an empty and ancient cigarette machine, wearing his black cap backwards, playing on a handheld gaming system. Based on the sound of a roaring engine and the way the soldier turned the game like a steering wheel, Gant guessed it was a racing simulation.
Sal Galati leaned over a small pool table with a stick while Jupiter Wells propped himself against the wall, chalking his own. Sal struck the cue and it hit one ball that ricocheted off a bumper, tapped another ball, and sent a third into the corner pocket.
Wells stepped toward the table, but instead of retreating Sal circled in search of his next shot.
"Get out of the way, it's my table."
"What do you mean? I made the shot. Four ball, corner pocket."
"No man, you did NOT call it with all those bumpers and kisses. No fucking way."
"Yeah man, I did."
"You are such a bullshitter, Sal."
"I may be a bullshitter but I called that shot."
Without looking up from his game, Pearson said, "Uh-oh, trouble in paradise."
Wells shook his head and retreated to the wall again, vigorously chalking his stick. Sal went back to planning his next shot.
Colonel Liz Thunder walked into the room, glanced at the large game board, and said, "I hope you're not the Allies."
Captain Campion swiveled to perfect attention. The other men did the same, although Pearson did not let go of his game.
Thunder waived a hand, signaling "at ease," and the men returned to their recreation.
Major Gant answered, "Unfortunately, I am one of the good guys in this one. And the good guys are getting pounded."
"Well, judging by what I see here, I wouldn't count on promotion to a theater command anytime soon."
"Did you come all the way down here to bust my chops?"
"Actually no, but that’s just an added bonus," she said as she grabbed his arm and led him to the doorway, out of earshot of the rest of the men. "What have you got planned for the rest of today?"
Gant checked the schedule he kept tucked inside his head. "Two training sessions. I plan to use one of these vacant upper levels to simulate entry into the quarantine zone. Basic stuff — I don’t have enough intel to do anything more than that."
"Cancel it," she said. "Or hand it off to your second. We’ve got a date."
"Sounds interesting. What have you got?"
"How about The Tall Company? They’ve got a research facility in upstate New York. I’ve got a chopper booked and ready to go." She glanced at the clock on the wall and added, "If we leave right away we can get there before closing time."