“What’s your best guess for when we get there?” she asked.
Robie shrugged. “They said they were going to put us through the paces. I expect them to do nothing less than that.”
“And afterward?”
“If there is an afterward.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely up to us, Robie.”
“Never thought anything different.”
Five minutes later they heard the landing gear come down. A few minutes after that the plane touched down on the tarmac, then rolled for a bit as the thrust reversers and wheel brakes were engaged and the aircraft came to a clunky halt far down the runway.
The plane taxied and then the engines were killed. A door was opened and they were told by one of the aircraft’s personnel to exit.
They walked down a set of portable stairs that had been rolled to the open door of the plane.
When they touched ground a Humvee pulled up with a skid. Inside was a driver and, next to him, Amanda Marks, dressed in cammie gear. She got out and faced them.
“Welcome to the Burner. We’ve made some changes since you were here last.”
“What kind?” asked Reel.
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” replied Marks. She eyed them both and then looked at a sky full of clouds. The chilly wind whipped around them.
“Down to your skivvies. You can keep your shoes on.”
“Excuse me?” said Reel.
“Strip down to your skivvies,” Marks said again. Her tone now carried no pleasantness.
“And why would that be?” asked Robie.
“Either do it or get back on the plane and hire a lawyer,” she retorted.
Robie and Reel looked at each other and then slowly started to undress on the tarmac.
Robie had on running shorts and a white thermal long-sleeved T. Reel had on bike shorts and a blue tight-fitting long-sleeved Under Armour workout shirt. Both had on running shoes.
This was not lost on Marks.
“I can see you anticipated something like this,” she said, her tone somewhat disappointed.
Robie and Reel said nothing.
Marks pointed to her left. “The complex is down that way. Only a few miles, although it does get hilly the last mile. You will follow the Humvee. We will keep to a six-minute-a-mile pace. If you drop back from that for longer than five seconds, we will have an issue.”
She climbed back into the Humvee and signaled for the driver to start up. He spun the vehicle around and headed off east.
Robie and Reel exchanged one more glance and then fell in behind the vehicle at a swift pace.
“Good thing we figured they’d start to kick our asses from the get-go,” said Robie. “And dressed accordingly.”
“Six-minute pace isn’t a killer. But the hills might make it seem like a five-minute pace, maybe less.” She eyed the Humvee, gauging distance and speed. “Figure fifty feet back will keep us from having an issue.”
“Right.”
The run was not three miles, though. It was six. And the last mile wasn’t hilly. The last three miles were. Exactly four seconds short of thirty-six minutes later they reached the sprawling complex set on a plateau surrounded by forests of mostly evergreens. The CIA loved putting facilities in the middle of nowhere, if only because they could see someone coming from miles away.
The Humvee stopped and Marks jumped out as Robie and Reel reached her. They kept running in place, letting their muscles, lungs, and hearts cool down.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” said Marks.
“No. I’m sure your Hummer ride was very warm and comfortable,” said Reel. “So when you said you’d be with us every step of the way I guess that was metaphorically speaking?”
Marks smiled. “You’ll see far more of me than you ever wanted to.”
“From behind a window? Or next to us?” said Reel. “I mean, why should we have all the fun? But if you can’t cut it, no worries. Desk jockeys get out of shape really fast.”
Marks’s smile disappeared. “Your gear is in your room. But we won’t be heading there just yet. After that little warm-up we wanted to let you get in a real workout.”
She jogged up the steps into the complex. It was built of logs, had a metal roof, was covered with cammie netting, and had sensors arrayed all over it with jamming devices built into them. There were more surveillance cameras than in the city of London and armed guards patrolled with German shepherd attack dogs that would not be your friends if you didn’t belong here. There were watchtowers with men wielding sniper rifles that could kill from over a mile away. The entire property was enclosed with electrified fencing.
There were also minefields located on the perimeter; several deer and a black bear had discovered this fact at the exact moment they had died.
There was only one road, full of switchbacks, in and out. The rest of the area was thick forest except for the runway, which had been carved out of the flattest spot on the mountain.
Marks parked her eye in front of a retina scanner and the steel door set in a bomb-resistant frame clicked open. She pulled it all the way open and motioned to Reel and Robie to hurry.
“We’re on a tight schedule. So let’s step it up.”
“Stepping it up,” said Reel as she passed by Marks and into the complex.
The halls were empty and smelled like someone had sprayed a chemical wash over them. The walls and ceiling were layered with surveillance devices mostly invisible to the naked eye.
There would be no such thing as privacy here. Reel wondered briefly if the agency had discovered how to read minds. She wouldn’t put it past them.
Marks led them down the main corridor and then hung a left down another, narrower hall. The overhead lights were so bright that it was actually painful to look around. This was intended and both Robie and Reel kept their gazes down, following Marks’s heels as she marched toward their destination.
The next four hours were challenging, even by Robie’s and Reel’s standards.
Swimming against machine-generated currents with weights on their ankles and wrists.
Rope climbing up six stories without benefit of a net while a wind machine did its best to blow them off two-inch-wide ledges.
The military functional fitness training done at triple speed until the sweat poured off them and muscles and tendons were pushed to their breaking points.
Next came push-ups and sit-ups and pull-ups in a sauna where the temperature soared well past a hundred degrees.
Then stair runs where the vertical comprised one hundred steps on a sixty-degree angle. They did it over and over until they were both gasping for air.
Then guns were tossed at them, they were shoved into a darkened room, and beams of light hit them from every angle. Then the shots started coming. And the fire was composed of rubber bullets, as evidenced by a slug ricocheting off a wall and nearly hitting Robie in the head.
Their moves were instinctive. Forgetting about their fatigue, they started advancing in seemingly choreographed steps, shooting target after target until the fire aimed at them stopped.
The lights came on and they blinked their eyes rapidly to adjust to the glare.
Two stories above them, an observation window made of polycarbonate glass slid open and Marks leaned out.
“Exit at the door over there. You’ll be escorted to your room. I’ll meet you there.”
Robie and Reel looked at each other.
“Nice first day,” he said.
“Who says it’s over?” she shot back. “Not the bitch up there.”
Their guns were taken at the door and a man in black cammies led them down a hall and pointed to a room at the end.
Robie opened the door and looked in. Reel stared over his shoulder.