He crept up to the edge of the clearing under the trees, again marveling at Ridley’s ingenuity at creating such a perfectly camouflaged helipad, and also at the skill needed by the pilots to land on such a site. Chess Team’s own helicopter pilots, formerly with the 160th and known as “Nightstalkers,” were able to stick the landing like it wasn’t a thing, but Johnson wondered what Manifold’s pilots had been like. Or maybe they had been former Nightstalkers themselves. Johnson knew from the files that Gen Y had liked to hire former US military members. Maybe Manifold’s pilots were all mercenaries too.
Johnson scanned the clearing and the entrance to the Labs section. Its steel door was in place as he had expected. He spent a long minute searching the trees opposite the door. That’s where he would have set up an ambush if he had been left to defend the door from possible intruders. He remained perfectly motionless, hunkered down on the forest floor. He spotted a chipmunk darting through the undergrowth, but otherwise everything was still. Convinced he was alone, Johnson made for the steel security door and quickly squatted down and faced back the way he had come, again searching the trees. He felt a bit uncomfortable going it alone, but White One had explained to them all the rationale for a small five-man security team—small, lightweight, fast, mobile. Each man was a self-contained unit, armed with a variety of objects to be used in their mission of defending the base and the people stationed here. They were not meant for an offensive role, but if any of Chess Team’s enemies—human or otherwise—were to assault the base, the gloves were to come off and each man was expected to deliver their weight in a shitstorm of violence. Scanning the tree line on the edge of the clearing for the final time, Johnson wondered if this was indeed the day.
He pulled out a small mound of C4 plastic explosive and a tiny pouch with detonators. He planted the explosive on the door and then high-tailed it to some cover behind a nearby tree. The door exploded inward, and true to Johnson’s expectations, it resembled a nest of metal angel hair pasta on the floor of the corridor, once the smoke cleared.
He stepped into the hallway with his FN SCAR at the ready and immediately discovered a body. The man had blood down one side of his face and was clad all in black BDUs. He had been holding an MP5 submachine gun, which was now across the hallway on the floor. His left arm was twisted at an unusual angle reminding Johnson of one of those wind-spinners with the shiny foil. On the breast of the BDU blouse was a logo Johnson had seen in the files. This man belonged to the Gen Y security team that worked for Richard Ridley’s manifold company.
Cocky sons of bitches, wearing that patch like a badge of honor.
Johnson leaned in close to examine the body and check for a pulse. A hand reached up and grabbed him by the throat.
HELLSPAWN
9.
Section Central, Former Manifold Alpha Facility, White Mountains, NH
Lori Stanton hammered furiously at the keyboard. She had moved to a large computer lab in Central, with wall displays, tabletop monitors and about a million feet of wiring and Ethernet cable lying around the room. The room hadn’t been set up properly yet, but Deep Blue had assured Lori it would be completely state of the art once they were done. She could believe it from the equipment arrayed around her.
Only one computer had yet been set up, and that was the one Deep Blue himself normally used. It stood in the center of the room, on a swiveling ergonomic chair that had her reclined at roughly the angle she would have been in, had she been reclining in a La-Z-Boy chair. Seen from the side, the computer station resembled a giant letter C lying on its curved side, with its points pointing upward. A monitor screen floated in front of her face and the keyboard was at just the right position. It was actually difficult to get your shoulders into an aggressive position in the relaxing chair, but Lori was trying.