"In winter, when it snows," Duncan explained, "a sensor causes the net to retract automatically to keep the weight of the snow from damaging it. Heat coils in the concrete melt the snow. When the storm's over, the net returns to where it was. The snow on the trees melts swiftly, so the net continues to look like its surroundings."
Roberto added, "The flight plan I filed with the controller at Teterboro lists private property in these mountains as our destination. One valley's pretty much the same as another. The description isn't specific enough for anybody to be able to use the flight plan to follow us here. Even visitors, like you, wouldn't know which valley this is if you wanted to come back here."
"From the radar, we know we weren't being followed," Tracy added.
"And nobody can see the chopper from the air," Chad said. "So you can relax. This is as secure as you can be."
"But what about the helicopter's heat signature?"
Prescott's question made everyone in the group look at one another in surprise.
"You know about heat signatures?" Cavanaugh asked.
"What do you expect from a scientist? Every object gives off heat. An aircraft with sophisticated infrared sensors can detect that heat, isolate its shape, and know what's hidden under trees or a camouflage net, or in the dark."
"That's military or law-enforcement hardware," Chad said. "Anybody capable of equipping an aircraft with stuff like that is capable of equipping it with other fancy hardware."
"Like machine guns and rockets," Tracy said.
Prescott frowned. "Is that supposed to reassure me?"
"What they're getting at," Cavanaugh said, "is while you're worrying, why not worry about napalm and missiles?"
Prescott didn't understand.
Duncan stepped toward him. "It's a basic rule of protection that we match our security to the threat level the client faces. Escobar has a lot of money and resources, but his operation isn't sophisticated enough to be able to rig an aircraft with that kind of equipment in the little time his team had to try to follow us. There's no such thing as a totally secure location. Even the military command center in Cheyenne Mountain would be vulnerable if somebody managed to smuggle a suitcase nuclear weapon inside. But under the circumstances, given the threat you're facing, what Chad said is true." Duncan put a reassuring hand on Prescott's arm. "This is as secure as you can be."
Prescott glanced around, continuing to look uneasy. "Where do we stay?"
"Over there," Tracy said.
"Where? All I see are trees."
"Look harder."
"That hill? Is there a cabin or something behind it?"
"Sort of." Cavanaugh guided Prescott through the trees.
"I'll join you in a minute," Roberto said. "I need to refuel the chopper." He headed toward a pump next to a camouflaged equipment shed at the side of the landing pad.
"You mean you have fuel here?" Prescott sounded amazed.
"An underground tank. Every six months, we send a truck up here to refill it."
The setting sun cast shadows. A cool, gentle breeze smelled sweetly of fir needles. The group's footsteps were cushioned by the soft forest floor.
The hill they approached was about thirty feet high, with scrub brush and outcrops of boulders. Leading Prescott to it, Cavanaugh passed one of the boulders and indicated a recessed concrete passageway. "This is the cabin. Sort of."
Duncan stepped into the passageway and came to a metal door, next to which was an electronic number pad. A motion sensor triggered a faint light in the number pad as Duncan reached for it. Blocking the pad from Prescott's view, he pressed a sequence of buttons.
With a solid thump, the door's lock was released electronically. As Duncan opened the door, an alarm system began beeping.
"If the alarm isn't deactivated in fifteen seconds," Cavanaugh told Prescott, "the intruder gets a dose of knockout gas."
Duncan turned to an interior control panel, again blocked it from view, and pressed a further sequence of numbers.
The beeping stopped. Motion sensors turned lights on within the structure.
"Welcome to your safe site."
4
Prescott entered slowly, with even greater wonder than when he'd seen the camouflage net retract to reveal the helicopter pad.
A hallway led to a large living area on the right. The floor was polished oak. The furnishings were leather. The walls were an off-white, covered with bookshelves, impressionistic paintings, and a large fireplace.
"This is a reinforced-concrete dome covered with earth," Duncan said. "We squared off the dome's interior walls for convenience. Because of the building's strong insulating structure, the temperature tends to be a uniform seventy-two degrees in both summer and winter, with a little help from a fireplace in each room."
"Solar panels and batteries provide the electricity," Chad said. "A backup generator kicks in if necessary."
"The drinking water comes from a well under the bunker, so it can't be poisoned. On top, sunlight comes through a ventilation shaft and gets reflected by a system of mirrors that distribute the sunlight, so the rooms seem to have windows," Tracy said. "It's one of the most energy-efficient buildings imaginable."
"But with the entrance controlled electronically, if the power fails, we'll be trapped," Prescott said.
"There's a manual override on the door. Plus a second way out." Duncan pointed toward a metal door at the end of the corridor. "It has a knob, and a lever for a dead-bolt lock. But on the outside, there's nothing-no knob, no key slot, no way to pick the lock and get in."
Prescott breathed a little easier.
"Is anybody hungry?" Chad rubbed his hands together.
"That depends," Tracy said. "Who's doing the cooking? You?"
"None other."
"In that case, I'm starved."
Chad had a reputation for being an impressive cook. "Mr. Prescott, are you a vegetarian? Do you have food allergies?"
"I can eat anything."
Cavanaugh silently concurred, remembering the shelves of carbohydrate-rich food at the warehouse.
"Beef Stroganoff coming up," Chad said.
"Easy on the cream this time," Tracy said.
"Hey, if you're going to put restrictions on a genius at work…"
"I'm trying to watch my figure."
"I'm watching your figure, too."
"Can you believe the way this guy talks to me?"
"While they sort this out," Duncan told Prescott, "why don't you get settled. If you enjoy tobacco, we have a room with various smoking materials."
"No." Prescott looked horrified by the thought.
"In that case, your room-smoke-free-is the third on the left in this corridor. I imagine a hot shower and some clothes that fit you would be welcome. There's a bar. Satellite television. A sauna. You've been through a lot. Perhaps you can relieve the strain enough to take a nap."
5
"What do you think of him?" Duncan asked after he and Cavanaugh watched Prescott enter his room. Letting Chad and Tracy go ahead with their various duties, the two men crossed the living room toward a door to the right of the fireplace; it led to an office.
"He doesn't have much of a personality, but he's an ideal client," Cavanaugh said. "He did exactly what I told him. He's overweight and out of shape, but he sucked it up and did what was necessary. Sure, he almost lost his lunch from being afraid, but he trusted me and never panicked to the point of losing control. Everything considered, he kind of impressed me."
"Anything else?"
"He's smart."
"Of course. He's a biochemist."
"Likes to learn. Asks a lot of questions."
"My arrangement with him was via telephone and an electronic transfer of funds," Duncan said. "He insisted that he couldn't meet me in person."