Andy Mcdermott - Temple of the Gods

Eddie’s expression told her that he was dubious about giving up their leverage, but his silence was sign enough that he was willing to go with her judgement. Dalton’s own visage was calculating. ‘Do I have your word on that?’ he finally said.

‘Yes. If we have yours that you’ll get us access to this Silent Peak place.’

‘ Safe access,’ Eddie added pointedly. ‘In and out.’

Another pause for thought, then: ‘I’ll see what I can do — it should be possible.’ He leaned back in his chair, the dismissive shift in his body language a clear sign that he considered the meeting over. ‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t seal the deal with a handshake.’

Eddie stood, returning the phone to his pocket. ‘Damn, I wasted a perfectly good stinkpalm.’

‘Gross, Eddie,’ said Nina as she rose. ‘We’ll see ourselves out. Goodbye, Mr President.’

Dalton watched impassively as they left the room. Once they were gone… a tiny but devious smile curled the corners of his mouth.

‘I don’t like this,’ Eddie muttered as he and Nina walked towards the security station.

‘Well, yeah, we’re taking a hell of a risk,’ she whispered. ‘We’re trying to get into a top secret government facility under false pretences — and that’s assuming we can trust Dalton not to have set us up to be thrown into prison for the rest of our lives.’

‘No, I don’t mean that.’ He tugged irritably at the too-tight collar of his US Air Force uniform, rented from a high-end theatrical costumiers in New York. ‘I meant me, dressed as a fucking crab!’

‘A what?’

‘It’s the army nickname for flyboys.’

‘Why crabs?’ Nina asked, puzzled.

‘Because their uniforms are the same colour as the ointment they used to put on soldiers’ tackle if they caught crabs.’

‘I wish I hadn’t asked. Okay, here we are.’

They were inside the ‘Janet’ facility at Las Vegas’s McCarran Airport, which served a private airline used to ferry workers to the military testing grounds in the desert far north of the city. ‘Janet’ was a jokey acronym from the days when the US government routinely denied that any such facilities existed: ‘Just Another Non-Existent Terminal’. Since it was now overlooked by the enormous black glass pyramid of the Luxor hotel, that degree of cloak-and-dagger secrecy had been rendered pointless — but the terminal was still off-limits to all but authorised personnel.

So far, the passes grudgingly arranged by Dalton had got them through the main gate, but more stringent checks awaited. Two armed security men manned an X-ray conveyor and body scanner; another pair of large guards lurked near the door leading to the tarmac. All eyes were on the new arrivals as they crossed the concourse. At this time of day, they were the terminal’s only visitors, the current shift’s workers having departed for the desert hours before.

They reached the checkpoint. ‘Can I see your passes and flight documentation, please?’ a guard rumbled, giving them both looks of institutional suspicion.

‘Certainly,’ said Nina brightly, taking out her paperwork. ‘I’m Dr Nina Wilde; this is Captain Tyler. We’re both going to Silent Peak.’ She said their destination as casually as if she commuted there regularly, but in truth, not only did she not know exactly what she would find at the facility, she didn’t even know where it was. Silent Peak did not exist on any maps — at least, not ones available to the public.

The guard took her papers, then turned to Eddie. ‘And you, sir?’

‘Here ya go,’ drawled Eddie in an abysmal attempt at a Texan accent as he produced his documents. Nina forced herself not to wince visibly. Fortunately, if the guard had any acting critiques, he kept them to himself as he ran a light-pen over the passes. His companion’s eyes flicked between the couple and his computer; after a moment, he nodded. Dalton had been good to his word, at least so far: the documents had been backed up by the government’s computer network.

‘Everything’s in order, sir, ma’am,’ said the first guard, returning their papers. ‘If you’ll put your case on the belt and step into the scanner?’

Nina placed her briefcase on the conveyor, then walked through the arch of a millimetre-wave body scanner. Again, the second guard scrutinised a monitor before giving a nod of approval. Eddie followed her, with the same result. ‘Okay, I’ll let your pilot know that you’re here,’ said the first man, picking up a phone.

‘Thank ya kaahndly,’ said Eddie. Nina wanted to deliver a sharp kick to his ankles to make him stop talking, but since they were being watched could only give a pointed glare.

The guard finished his brief call. ‘Okay, your pilot’ll meet you at the gate in a minute. Have a nice flight.’

‘Thank you,’ said Nina as she and Eddie headed for the exit. As soon as they were out of earshot, she hissed, ‘Will you stop that?’

‘Stop what?’ asked Eddie.

‘Your goddamn John-Wayne-with-brain-damage voice!’

‘I can’t exactly talk normally, can I? Might be a bit of a giveaway that I’m not really a Yank if I’m all “Ay up, by ’eck, look sithee”.’

‘Then don’t talk at all! Honey, you can’t do accents. Just accept it.’

Eddie huffed, but fell silent as they reached the gate and waited, the other two guards watching them. After a few minutes, a middle-aged black man in a civilian pilot’s uniform arrived. ‘Dr Wilde? Captain Tyler?’

‘That’s right,’ said Nina, with another warning glance at Eddie, who limited his answer to a nod.

‘I’m Samuel Abbot — I’ll be flying you today.’ He shook their hands. ‘Okay, if you’ll follow me?’

He led them out on to the parking apron. At this time of year the temperature in Vegas fell far short of the blistering heat of summer, but the combination of the high sun and an unbroken expanse of concrete meant that a wave of hot air rolled over them as they left the air-conditioned terminal building. Eddie tugged at his collar again.

Nina had bigger concerns than personal comfort. She looked around for any signs that their cover had been blown. No security vehicles screamed towards them, no guards raised guns. They had passed the first hurdle.

But there would be more to come.

A Boeing 737 airliner, white with the red stripe of the Janet fleet, was parked nearby, but Abbot took them to a smaller plane in the same livery, a Learjet 35A. Its twin engines were already idling. ‘Private jet,’ said Nina. ‘Nice to get the VIP treatment.’

‘Yeah, but if this goes pear-shaped,’ Eddie reminded her quietly, ‘our next flight’ll be with Con Air.’

The door was open; Abbot showed them inside. The plush six-seater cabin was empty, but Nina saw a co-pilot already in the cockpit. ‘If you’ll take your seats,’ said Abbot, closing the hatch, ‘we’ll get this show on the road.’ He joined the other man up front.

Eddie listened warily to the pilots and their radio communications, but heard nothing that suggested potential danger. He relaxed, slightly. The engine noise rose. ‘Okay, fasten your seatbelts,’ Abbot said over the intercom as the plane began to move. Nina nervously pulled her restraint tight, but Eddie left his belt loose — just in case he needed to make a move in a hurry.

The crew didn’t seem about to turn against them, however. Take-off was swift, the Learjet quickly ascending to ten thousand feet and heading north. A barren landscape of desert and mountains spread out below. ‘Hey,’ said Eddie after a while, indicating something through a window. ‘Guess what that is.’

Nina saw a stark, almost circular expanse of pale sand against the russet-browns of the surrounding terrain. A dry lake bed, she guessed; on its southern edge was what looked like an airfield, a long runway stretching all the way across the flat plain. ‘I don’t know. A military base?’