As he approached the end of the tunnel, Duncan passed the bio security doors—installed at each section of the base to completely seal that section off from the rest in case of a biological or chemical accident. Duncan had seen in Manifold’s records that the doors were identical to those used at the CDC. He eased past the thick white steel, plastic and Plexiglas door with its immense rubber seal, and stepped closer to the edge of the tunnel and the open cavern beyond. Duncan paused, crouching down under the concrete lip of the train platform. One of Ridley’s shiny white electric trains sat parked at this end of the line, waiting to take passengers from Labs to Central or Dock. After the intermittently lit tunnel, the bright lights in the station made Duncan squint his eyes. He heard hushed voices at the far end of the platform, but stayed in his crouch until he adjusted to the florescent glare. The barrel of his M4 leading, he slowly peeked over the rim of the concrete.
Duncan immediately recognized the black Gen Y uniforms with the stylized logo of the security firm on the chest. Men were streaming across the platform toward the train, and he quietly swore under his breath. He counted at least fifteen of them. He watched as two of them boarded the train, while one squatted down and opened a portable laptop. Duncan overheard the man speaking to his nearby superior.
“Just give me a moment to activate the train, sir.”
The man standing near the laptop user just nodded curtly. The other remaining men had taken up defensive positions around the train and Duncan had to slowly duck back down under the concrete lip to avoid being spotted. He moved slowly because the human eye tended to notice rapidly moving objects in the periphery. But slow moving objects often went unnoticed. Crouching along the rails, he retreated to the shadow of the mouth of the tunnel. He could still see the platform from here, but not as well. He aimed the M4 along the edge of the wall, ensuring the tip of the barrel did not protrude into the light of the station, where it might be seen. He adjusted his footing on the concrete floor for a better stance and felt his right foot slide slightly. He glanced down and lifted his foot, seeing some kind of sticky and viscous slime attached to the bottom of his shoe. What the hell? But the situation on the platform demanded his attention more then the slime. A problem for another time, he thought.
He aimed for the laptop the Gen Y man was using, thinking that must be how they were controlling the computer systems and the doors. Lori still might not be able to open the doors if Duncan destroyed the man’s laptop, but he and Gen Y would be on equal ground with regard to controlling the facility around them.
Just as he was about to fire, the rapid-fire staccato sound of MP5s came from the far hallway, across the cavernous space around the train platform. Another Gen Y man came rushing out onto the platform and whirled around, firing his weapon back the way he had come. The others on the platform all turned their backs to Duncan’s location and focused on the current threat. More fire was still coming from the hallway as well. Someone was engaged in a battle.
Duncan had flinched down at the sound of the automatic weapons fire, but now resumed his stance, thinking it must have been Beck on the other end of the hallway beyond the platform. Excellent. We have them in a crossfire.
Then the screams began and Duncan realized it wasn’t Beck at all.
6.
Mount Tecumseh, above Section Central
White Two was not a bulky man. Neither was his partner, White Three. They had been dispatched to the top of Mount Tecumseh, to seek access to Central through the vents for that very reason. They were both wiry, thin rock climbers with hardly any percentage of body fat. Both men were blonde haired and blue eyed, although their facial structures were different enough that they were never mistaken for one another. Both men loved to climb and both men loved adventure. The chance to come work for Chess Team had been a dream for both of them, friends and climbing partners since their days together at Fort Drum in 10th Mountain.
White Two, whose name was Austin Mealey, was reconsidering his decision to enter the ventilation shaft headfirst and without a line. It was a narrow shaft of reinforced aluminum with the occasional seam where sections of it had been fitted together. The vent had seemed so tight, that despite his slight size, Mealey had figured he could arrest his descent as he progressed deeper into the vent by simply widening his arms and legs. The friction alone against the wall would do it. Plus there were the occasional ridges at the end of each section of the rectangular tube that while only a quarter of an inch in width, were like a huge shelf to a rock climber. He guessed correctly that he was about a third of the way down the shaft now and he felt the need to rest at each tiny ledge.