Jack Coughlin - Running the Maze

KYLE SWANSON PLODDED UP along the trail, his brain turning over possibilities while mud sucked at his feet and rain whipped his body. The storm was a tactical blessing, providing both some concealment and cover, but it was fucking miserable, and moving forward felt more like swimming than walking. He did not look back for Coastie. It was best to leave her alone with her thoughts, handing over an implied shame if she did not keep up.

Behind him, Ledford doggedly kept putting one boot in front of another, moving blindly in the curtains of wind and rain, fueled only by pride. She had not cracked yet, and she would keep going no matter what. Her mind pushed the physical discomfort and the aching muscles to a place where they did not matter, so she could get on with the job. Despite the cold, the muck, and the danger, she was excited. Some reptilian part of her brain was actually enjoying being a predator out stalking prey in the storm.

They were now within a hundred meters of the big bridge, and it towered above them like a medieval castle on a mountaintop. Huge slabs of stone had been set and locked into other monstrous rocks to form sheer, high walls that rose about ninety feet above the valley floor at each end and supported the massive arch over the swollen river. Waterfalls poured off of it in thick sheets. The lights high up top burned brightly and reflected through the spray to reach the churning clouds.

Swanson kept moving his head back and forth, checking for outside security and any dangerous areas. He no longer worried about the camera stalks and electronic perimeter devices. If they had not been activated in the past hour, either they had not been triggered or something was wrong in the circuitry. He slowed the pace to look around more closely, trying to find the entrance at the base of the bridge. Despite the map’s indication of such an opening, he saw nothing but bushes and solid rock. He removed the night-vision goggles for a better look. The muddy trail led straight into a thicket, which hugged hard against the wall. That last patrol had come straight down the path, so this had to be their route. There was no other way. He held up his fist, and they came to a halt, Beth moving up close.

“Straight ahead,” he said quietly. “What do you see?”

Ledford also removed her NVGs and stared hard at the terrain, each side, and up and down. “Nothing. Nobody.”

“The path disappears right into that line of bushes. Have you seen any other major trafficway? Something I might have missed?”

“Just rain, Gunny. That’s all.”

“OK.” He made up his mind. “You hang here and give me cover. I’m going forward and look around in that brush. There’s got to be some kind of entrance hole around. Those guys didn’t pop out of nowhere.”

“I’ve got your six.”

He grinned at her through the downpour, reached out, and slapped the top of her black beanie, a rolled-up knitted ski cap. “I know you do.”

As Swanson moved closer, he could make out more detail. The brush was almost like a fence that stretched some thirty feet across, and the spacing indicated they had been planted instead of just growing wild out of the weeds. Thick foliage in the middle, a tangled mass ten feet high, was reacting differently to the rain than did the brush clumps on either side, which were crushed down beneath the onslaught of the storm. This section remained firm, indicating that it was somehow anchored in place. He removed the glove from his left hand and reached out: plastic. It looked almost perfect from a few feet away, but it was as phony as a movie set.

Kyle put the glove back on and plunged both arms into the thicket, grabbing handfuls of plastic with each fist and pulling hard. It gave way so easily that he lost his balance and fell backward into the slime as the brush, mounted on a swivel, swung free.

Beth rushed forward as soon as she saw him go down, her rifle swinging in a 180-degree arc. “Gunny?”

“I’m OK,” he replied, rolling to his knees and then standing. “This stuff is just plastic. Realistic as hell, but only a special effect that no satellite camera would ever detect. The gate swings open, then closes tight again.”

“And there’s a door!” she said.

An opening in the rock had been machined to be almost perfectly square; it reached back about six feet into the slab, where a solid metal door with a big lever handle blocked the other end. With no light, it had been invisible behind the bushes.

“Yep.” He was on a knee now, studying the area for possible booby traps or other surprises. A camera was secured by a wall brace, and he smashed it with the stock of his rifle.

“We’re going inside?” Beth asked.

“Yep.”

SERGEANT HAFIZ DECIDED TO go out himself. Two patrols were now out of contact, and he was out of guards. The three corporals who had led the patrols were absent—he did not know where they were—and all of the Taliban security forces were either dead or unaccounted for. All that was left was the approximately one hundred civilian workers on the night shift and the ten men of the NMO security team. The civilian construction workers would be even more useless in the valley than the Taliban roughnecks, and Hafiz would be damned before he begged help from Ayman al-Masri. By the process of elimination, that left it on his shoulders.

That was probably best, he thought, as he walked to the western end of the bridge, descending stairwells along the way because he could move faster on foot than waiting for an elevator. Getting around the complex reminded him of being within a big ship, where multiple levels were woven together for a common purpose. The comm operations were near the top, on the east end, but he did not want to call Islamabad again. General Gul would want answers that he did not have. He had already given cause for concern by pestering them for the regular troops.

The defense control system was housed on the eastern side, deeper into the mountain. It would have been nice if the chief engineer had picked some other time to go crazy, so he could have been in there to work the fancy defense suite and its deadly electronic network. Hafiz brushed the thought aside. He had to deal with reality, not fantasy.

He came to his own small quarters, a single square in which were a small desk, a few shelves, a single bed, and a bathroom. His gear was folded in neat stacks, and he pulled out a rubberized poncho, then retrieved the AK-47 beside the bunk and headed toward the lower exit, pulling on the rain gear. The weapon had been cleaned the previous night and had a full magazine, but Hafiz checked it anyway before slinging it across his shoulder.

A little room just off the entryway contained supplies for maintenance workers and people heading outside, including a rack of rechargeable battery-powered lanterns. Hafiz chose one that threw a powerful beam. I really don’t want to go out into this mess, he thought. What excuse could they possibly have for not reporting in? When I find them, I will put my boot up their backsides hard enough to rattle their teeth. He picked up a fully charged radio, then headed for the main hatch.

Hafiz pushed down the lever to unlock the main door and gave it a shove.

BETH LEDFORD WAS FLAT against the wall on the right-hand side of the door, reaching out with her left to push down the lever. Kyle Swanson was on the opposite side, also with his back to the wall, weapon poised and his finger on the trigger, ready to charge in as soon as she yanked it open far enough. You never knew what was behind any closed door.

Hafiz registered that something was not right as soon as the door had opened just enough for a strong burst of fresh wind to hiss in, indicating the outer gate at the other end was open to the storm. The door continued to swing outward, seemingly on its own, for unseen by Hafiz, Beth Ledford had grabbed the handle on the other side and was pulling on it. Hafiz dropped the lantern, which bounced on the concrete slab floor and sent the beam of light dancing in the darkness. He fumbled to pull the AK-47 from the shoulder sling as a shadowy figure appeared in the open space, with a rifle already pointed at him. Hafiz did not panic, although he realized that his opponent had the advantage.