Greig Beck - Dark Rising

Alex knew a little about the Bronx as he had spent some time at Fort Hamilton in New York. Though the Bronx was one of the most populous areas in the United States, and some of those areas were the toughest in the country, parts of it were fast becoming gentrified and Riverdale and Throggs Neck were two suburbs that were now more movie star than ‘gangsta’ turf. Alex heard a slight snigger from the other men at the question.

O’Riordan’s eyes slid to Alex and narrowed for a second before he went back to staring straight ahead. ‘Nah, sir. Born and raised in South Bronx just down from Fordham. Born and bred there, but it ain’t my home now; ain’t never goin’ back.’

It was a tough area – primarily Hispanic, African-American and Italian. A kid with red hair would stand out like crap on a snow cake – Irish would have had to do a lot of fighting growing up.

Alex stared directly into the man’s face as he said, ‘Put too much cream in your coffee, did they? Had some bad sushi at your last poetry reading, Lieutenant?’

O’Riordan’s jaw muscles worked and his eyes burned as they stared into Alex’s face. Alex could tell that it was only his army discipline keeping him in check. After a few more seconds he straightened. ‘Nothin’ to go back to. Some asshole bein’ transported to Rikers broke outta custody and tried to drag my dad outta his car at a stop light. Well, my dad, he was one of the last of the red Irish rhinos, he wouldn’t give in for nothin’. Even though that car was a pile of crap, he weren’t givin’ it up to some asshole car thief. Got a face full of lead for his trouble, and Ma took two in the gut. Nothin’ there for me anymore; army’s home now… sir.’

Alex looked hard into the man’s face for a few seconds more, nodded once and turned away. Hmm, a lot of anger there that’s going to need to be channelled, he thought. He’d read O’Riordan’s psych report again just to ensure this guy wasn’t going to explode under pressure. Still, he figured they were good to go for the induction. There was just one more thing.

‘All right, you new soldiers, this is the Hot-zone All-Forces Warfare Commandos and we are the best on this planet. The pay’s no better, there are no fast cars, no cheer squads – in fact, as far as Mr Joe Citizen is concerned, we don’t even exist. Our casualty rate is higher than any other Special Forces unit in the United States, and if you’re ever captured – well, like I said, we don’t exist. But what I can guarantee you is access to the best weaponry, intelligence and training the army has to offer. And if you like a challenge – well, you’ll find yourself being challenged like at no other time in your life. As a HAWC, you don’t just save lives, you save countries.’

Alex paused and looked at the two new men. Rocky Lagudi’s face was serious, but Irish O’Riordan seemed to be barely holding a smirk in check.

Alex spoke directly to the redheaded man. ‘This is your opportunity to speak your mind – to ask me questions, ask your fellow HAWCs questions. There may not be a better time, or any other time. Things happen fast in this outfit.’

He waited for a few seconds, and when both men maintained their silence he continued. ‘Most of the year you’ll be in training. You will learn new skills, use new weapons and technologies, and you will be tested time and time again in drill missions across various terrains and hostile environments. Just because you’re in the HAWCs doesn’t mean you have a right to stay in the HAWCs.’

Alex saw Sam Reid give a half-smile. He and Hex had been through the tests and knew what they entailed.

‘And then there are the live operations,’ Alex went on. ‘Arduous, dangerous projects that no one else wants and no one else could succeed at. Projects that are given to us because we are the deadliest, most feared unit on the entire planet.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Gentlemen, listen up. We are about to take on just such a project.’

Ahmad Al Janaddi tried hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. It was the first time he had been called to appear personally before the president and his future could very well hang on his performance. It didn’t help that the men in charge of the Iranian military, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard and the intelligence and security services were also present, along with the leader of the Islamic Guardian Council, a group of elders charged with ensuring that all the Republic’s decisions adhered to the path of Islam.

Al Janaddi was the newly promoted leading scientist at the Jamshid II site, and it was his task to inform the group about the recent ‘anomaly’ at the Jamshid I site at Persepolis. He drew in a short breath and looked briefly at the faces staring back at him. President Moshaddam appeared to be listening patiently, but may just as easily have been bored by all the technical details.

The only face that was truly engaged was that of Parvid Davoodi, the vice-president. The complete opposite of the president, Davoodi was well educated and an economist by training – and his liberal perspective, based on his studies of modern economic theory and the free market often brought him into conflict with his more hard-line colleagues and his president. Unlike Moshaddam, Davoodi was for open dialogue with the West. He’d spent some of his early life in America and held a PhD in Economics from Iowa State University; like a lot of moderate Iranians, he didn’t see the West as evil, just different.

Al Janaddi continued with his report. ‘All the Persepolis material that was transferred to our Jamshid II complex has been reviewed many times and we believe we have an understanding of what caused the destruction of the primary site. In essence, the modifications to the laser-enrichment sphere made by the German scientist Hoeckler had an unexpected side effect. Due to his radical design and choice of laser, the high-speed molecule collisions were a lot faster and contained a lot more energy. In effect, his design did more than just split the atoms from their molecules; he actually caused them to crash into each other at the speed of light. Hoeckler’s sphere became a miniature particle collider.’ Al Janaddi paused, but no one except for Davoodi seemed interested. He tried again. ‘We believe we created a miniature black hole within the sphere.’

Davoodi sat forward. ‘You think that was the source of the gamma rays, not just a fissionable accident?’ he asked.

Al Janaddi knew the vice-president had an amateur interest in astronomy. ‘Yes, Agha-ye, Vice-President, we believe the data is undeniable here. If it were a leakage there would be continuing radiation in the mega-sievert range. But there was no heat, no explosion – just a form of… implosion. The gamma anomaly held its form for point-zero-two nanoseconds before evaporating and collapsing back into itself, taking with it everything within a 500 foot radius. Allah be praised that this was so, as it drew its own gamma radiation flash back in. There is barely any residual radiation left; the facility’s structural design contained most of the deadly particle emissions and the implosion digested the rest.’

The scientist chose his words carefully. Though the Jamshid I site at Persepolis had been under the governance of his former colleague Mahmud Shihab, it was still quite possible that he could be arrested for being associated with the destruction of the property of the Islamic Republic of Iran, which carried an immediate death sentence. He felt the dead eyes of Mohammed Bhakazarri, Chief Commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard, slide across him. He swallowed and continued.

‘Let me show you the data feeds of the last few minutes prior to the anomaly in the facility.’ Al Janaddi opened a large flat laptop computer and called up the movie display software, selected the appropriate time slice and pressed play. ‘What you are seeing now is the laboratory floor – the uranium-enrichment sphere is the globe in the centre of the room.’