Candice was distracted from her thoughts by the crunch of tires on the gravel access road leading up from Interstate 40. Approaching headlights danced in the twilight — the sound of a truck engine drifted on the light desert wind.
A Chevy SUV pulled beside Mike’s lighting truck. Candice could just make out Arizona State Police on the fender. The last rays of the setting sun reflected off the red and blue emergency lights.
Two uniformed men got out. Voices carried across the parched landscape as Mike and Carl conferred with the troopers. While the Navajo girl stood nearby, the troopers appeared to question the two men. Then Mike raised his arm, pointing in the direction of the boulders where Candice sat.
It must be about renewing that stupid permit from the state film commission, Candice thought. She started to get up when flashes lit up the scene. At first, Candice thought Mike’s strobes went off. Then she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as the two troopers gunned down Carl and Mike. The Indian girl turned and ran through the beams of the SUV’s headlights. Her screams of terror echoed off the rocks. A second later, her arms flew up, her back arched, and she collapsed face down from bullets slamming into her back. One of the troopers stood over her while the second, pistol in hand, turned in Candice’s direction.
With her sandy-colored clothes blending into the twilight surroundings, Candice slipped off the boulder and moved through the darkness along the rim of the crater. She felt her heart race as blood roared in her ears, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Don’t panic,” she whispered repeatedly. She felt her way along the wall of rocks daring not to look to her side — the steep rim of the crater was only a few steps away.
Crouching beside a large rock, she strained to see her pursuer. His dark form moved across the distance directly toward her, a strange black object covered his face.
How can he see so well in the dark? she thought. Then she knew — Night vision goggles!
Realizing the rocks offered little concealment, Candice leaped to her feet and ran at a sprint along the rim of the crater. Her eyes blurred with tears. She felt her feet slip on the loose gravel — her arms extended to keep from smashing into a hidden wall of rock.
Above the sound of her desperate footfalls came the grunting of someone running hard behind her — and he was gaining. She could hear his breathing — feel his presence, his strength.
His hand grazed her back grabbing at her shirt. A sound came from deep in her throat — one she had never heard before — the cry of the fleeing gazelle being overtaken by the lion. Then he was on her, clawing at her clothes, spinning her, wrapping his powerful arms around her. Their momentum carried them a dozen yards farther before Candice hit the ground hard — hot pain shooting through her shoulder.
He was at her feet scrambling to rise and pin her down. Kicking wildly, Candice rolled out of his grip — pushing, fighting, and managing to stand. He lunged and her legs went out from under her. Next there was blackness as she tumbled over the rim.
THE PLAN
Gates gazed down at the horizontal LED display monitor. It showed a three-dimensional, computer-generated representation of Lake Guatavita and the surrounding mountains thirty kilometers north of Bogotá. The image was complete with texture mapping of the lake’s rugged shoreline along with the dense jungle that covered the land leading up to the Andes foothills. A small village and a few farms dotted the rolling hills bordering the lake. There was enough detail for Gates to count cattle in a pasture. He used the joystick console control to rotate the image so he could examine it from every angle. An electronic grid displayed elevations, distances and water depth at various points across the lake.
“What are those buildings?” Gates asked. He pointed to a group of two-story structures nestled a few hundred meters up a long, steep valley about a kilometer from the north end of the lake.
“An exclusive mountain resort,” said Colonel Argentine. “It’s a retreat for Escandoza’s top management. They periodically hold business conferences, entertain politicians, government officials, and others on the drug lord’s payroll. It’s also the entrance to the Keep, his underground private residence.”
“And that’s where the lab is? Underground?” Gates asked.
“We think so,” said Lieutenant Elaine Coffee, a slim brunette from the computer analysis division of the Air Force Special Anti-terrorism Unit. She leaned over the display and gestured to a steep rock wall overhanging a portion of the resort. “If you look closely you can see a number of small structures along the upper edge of the cliff. Those are ventilation and exhaust ducts.”
“He’s picked a perfect location,” Gates said. “There’s only one way in — only one direction to defend.”
“Exactly,” Argentine said. “Up the valley from the lake.”
“Approaching from the higher elevations would be next to impossible even for an expert climbing team,” said Coffee. “The mountains get more rugged the higher you go. The valley walls are equally out of the question as an approach route.”
“Our operatives in the region tell us the place is protected with the latest infrared imaging along with motion and heat sensors,” Argentine said. “We believe there’s also a significant amount of munitions and antipersonnel devices hidden within the surrounding jungle.” He turned as the door opened to the dimly-lit intelligence-gathering control room.
Gates looked up to see the entrance fill with the massive silhouette of a man who could easily be a member of the NFL. As he stepped into the room, Gates guessed his weight at over 250lbs and height at an inch below the door frame. Even with the enormous size, Gates noticed that he walked more with the agility of a quarterback than a lineman.
“Come in, Captain,” Argentine said. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Mickey Gates, Projects Director for OceanQuest and our primary adviser on this mission.” Argentine turned to Gates. “This is Captain Gordon Rees, commander of the Army Rangers Rapid Response Team.”
As a former U.S. Olympic wrestling champion, Gates rarely found a person’s handshake impressive or his equal for that matter. But he hid a slight grimace as Rees’ viselike grip encased the marine explorer’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” Gates said with a dry smile.
The black officer nodded as Argentine motioned them all to a conference table.
When they were seated, Gates said, “What about the ventilation shafts? Can you use them to gain access?”
“We don’t have enough information,” Coffee said.
“So do you have a plan?” Gates asked Argentine.
“Captain Rees and his Rangers have been rehearsing the assault for the last two weeks.”
“Our first priority is to locate and disable the electrical systems,” said Rees.
“Does Escandoza have generators?” Gates asked.
“There’s power running to the Keep from a substation near the lake,” Coffee said. “We have to assume he has backup generators. We just haven’t confirmed it yet.”