Дэвид Балдаччи - The Escape

“Right. He was the one who told us about Ivo Mesic hightailing it out of there on the day the Ukrainian tried to kill you at DB. Why did you want to talk to him?”

“Because he has records on the Foreign Military Studies program.”

“And why does that interest you?”

“Because I think it interested Ivo Mesic. Or Anton Bok, rather.”

“I’m not following you, Bobby,” said a clearly frustrated Puller. “And I’m running out of time here, so just tell it to me as straight as you can.”

“I think Bok was at Leavenworth for more than just a way to get my purported killer onto the base. He strikes me as a multitasker who would not waste time sitting in a classroom for a full month. I think he was there to learn what he needed to learn.”

“And what was that?”

“His studies included some interesting subjects in the American military world. But one in particular got my attention.”

“What was that?”

“A course titled ‘American Command and Control: A History of the Pentagon.’ The course also included quite a fascinating and in-depth study of the facility itself. Quite in-depth. How everything runs, Junior. From the cafeterias to the HVAC. From the five rings to the BioWatch program.”

“Are you serious?”

“I think in the future we might want to be a little more guarded with our information, particularly for those who wear a different uniform.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Knox, who had overheard some of this, rushed over. “What is it?”

Puller was already hammering the number on his phone keypad.

“This is CWO John Puller. I need to talk to General Aaron Rinehart, and I need him right now.”

The voice asked him what it was in reference to.

“Doomsday,” said Puller. “Just tell him it’s about Doomsday.”

AS THEY ARRIVED at the Pentagon it was now early morning and streams of people were heading to work inside the building. Rinehart met Puller and Knox at one of the entrances with members from the Pentagon Force Protection Agency and several men dressed in biohazard uniforms. They had two golf carts with them. Puller took a couple minutes to fill everyone in on what they might be confronting.

“Weaponized Ebola?’ said the head of the Protection Agency, a man named Ted Pritchard. “Aerosolized? So introduced through our HVAC system?”

“Yes,” said Puller.

Pritchard said, “But we have air monitors all over this place. Exterior intakes, internally placed. The system can detect deviations and foreign particulates. Including Ebola.”

“But even if it detects it, people can still be infected by the time the system shuts down,” said Puller.

“Where the hell do you think it is?” barked Rinehart.

When Puller didn’t say anything, Pritchard said, “We have seven floors, including two below ground, six and a half million square feet, twenty-nine acres, and seventeen and a half miles of corridors. And thousands of people working here. It’s not a needle in a haystack. It’s a needle in the middle of a freaking farm.”

Puller said, “The last time I was here I nearly got run over by someone hauling a cart full of oxygen canisters. Where would they go?”

Rinehart looked at Pritchard. “Do you have the answer to that?”

“The E Ring is where the senior officers have their offices. When renovation work was done it was configured to be sealed off and then piped to carry an emergency backup oxygen system.”

“Command and control,” said Puller quietly. He turned to Pritchard. “Where is the oxygen supply for this backup system?”

“Let’s go.”

The Pentagon consisted of five concentric pentagonal rings intersected by ten radial corridors. Its original cost was eighty-three million dollars and the structure had been built in only sixteen months during America’s involvement in the Second World War. Though enormous, it was designed so that one could travel between any two points in the building in seven minutes.

In the golf carts Puller and company made it in four minutes. During the ride Puller said in a low voice to Rinehart, “James Schindler is dead.”

Rinehart showed enormous self-restraint at this news. “How do you know that?” he said in a low voice.

Puller went on to explain what had happened in the apartment building.

“I heard about that on the news,” Rinehart said, shaking his head. “But I had no idea Jim was involved.”

“It’s going to take a while to ID him,” said Puller grimly. “But I was there and I was nearly killed too.”

“Reynolds?”

“She was there as well, but got away.”

“I want to hear all about it, Puller. But not now.”

“Right.”

The site of the oxygen supply was on the basement level near Corridor 3. The door to the room was locked. They unlocked it and poured in.

“Over there,” said Pritchard, pointing. There was a cluster of oxygen tanks in the center of the room.

“What do we look for?” asked Rinehart.

Puller examined the canisters. “These look like they’ve been here a while. And they’re a different color from the ones I saw. Green, not silver. Can you check?”

Pritchard hurried over to a computer screen built into the wall and punched in a password and then hit some other keys. He read off the screen and turned to Puller. “They were last replaced about two months ago.”

“Is there another place where these canisters are kept?”

“No sir.”

“But that’s not possible. I was here recently and I saw a cartload of canisters. I was almost run down by them.”

“Well, they weren’t delivered here.”

Rinehart grabbed Puller by the shoulder. “Do you think you’ve read this incorrectly? It might not be here at all, Puller. We could be wasting valuable time.”

Knox looked at him. “But you said you saw the cart with the canisters when you were here?”

He nodded and pointed at Rinehart. “You were with me, sir. Don’t you remember seeing it? I grabbed you when you stumbled getting out of the way.”

Rinehart thought for a few seconds and then his eyes widened. “I do remember that. There was a motorized cart hauling what looked like oxygen tanks.”

Puller turned to Pritchard. “Where would they be going with those?”

“I’m not sure.”

Knox said, “Well, it’s not here.”

They rushed from the room. Puller started walking full bore down the corridor while the others climbed into the carts and followed him. Knox stayed on foot and caught up to him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m hoping I see something that will lead to something else.”

“But are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Yeah. Another way to disseminate the virus.”

“But what could that be if it’s not in the air ducts? That’s how you deploy an aerosolized bioweapon.”

But Puller wasn’t listening to her. He had stopped walking and was staring off.

Rinehart leapt off one of the carts and grabbed Puller’s arm.

“Do we need to evacuate, Puller? It’s the damn Pentagon. It’ll take time.”

Puller wasn’t listening to him either. He hustled over to a wall and snatched off a piece of paper that had been taped there. He read down it and then looked over at the group of men.

“You’re having a fire drill today?”

“Yes,” said Pritchard. He looked at his watch. “In about eight minutes. Why?”

“And you didn’t think to mention it!” barked Puller.

Pritchard bristled. “You said the Ebola would be carried through our air ducts. No one mentioned anything about our fire suppression system.”

“We don’t have time for a pissing contest,” snapped Knox.