Jack Chalker - The Messiah Choice

Because of her experience with Angelique in the same area, Maria was able to guide them around in the undergrowth and around the cabin area, which they all avoided. There were both sound and visual monitors inside and out on the cabin and they had no wish to get near the place. The stream had provided them with full canteens of water, and that and dried foods would have to do.

MacDonald had always identified this area as one of the most vulnerable on the island, and so far he’d seen nothing to indicate that they had made any real changes.

Still, it was daylight before they had everything in place. The lava tube entrance was easily identified, but they elected to set up a small camp above it, giving them first look and helping them to avoid any messy complications, should anyone come out. MacDonald used the monitoring gear to check for any electronic listeners or motion sensors, and found none in the immediate area although every time he pointed it towards the cave the needle went off the scale. He’d known from the beginning that a nice direct way in was impossible, but he still felt some disappointment.

Frawley seemed newly energized by the mere fact that he had made it up the cliff and that they were finally on the island. He spent some time working with his heavy equipment, which took three of them to lift and carry. The object inside was imposing, but looked more like a piece of very bad plumbing than a bomb. MacDonald was certain that there would be a security sweep with human agents down the tube after dark, and it was decided that until those agents arrived and had done their work the bomb wouldn’t be moved down and in front of the cave where it would do the most blast damage. Still, Frawley had the thing armed and activated by mid-morning, but not with the dead man’s switch. It was agreed that if they were discovered at any time before their own deadline, he would blow it where it was.

Setting up a guard schedule, they settled back for the long wait and tried to get some rest. It wasn’t easy, though. MacDonald settled back and tried to keep his mind on the job, telling himself it was just another security test, but he couldn’t really do it.

Maria came over to him. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” she said, keeping her voice to a whisper as they all did.

“Don’t start in on me,” he responded wearily. “I’m here and that’s that. I know it’s stupid and idiotic and all that, but there was just no way I could go back when everything I’ve spent the last six months on is here. I can’t make myself believe it’s a last stand, anyway, but if you all came in and then nothing happened, I’d always wonder what happened and whether I could have made a difference. I guess maybe dying here beat the idea of living with that. Maybe I just want to see, for once, what’s under that Dark Man disguise if I can. Or maybe I just flipped out. Crazy, eh?”

“Crazy, yeah, but—I’m glad you’re here even if it is a dead end. Oh, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want you dead, either, but I’m still glad. I’m not gonna screw this one up, I swear it.”

They settled back together and dozed fitfully.

It was still light, though, when they awoke, although the sun was waning now and they knew it would go down rapidly in this latitude. There had been occasional warnings from the sentries, and once or twice somebody had come down the path towards the cabin although they couldn’t see who, but they’d left fairly quickly and apparently without seeing any signs of the invaders. The day had remained cloudy, with a few drizzles, and the weather had just maintained the feeling of impending doom.

All day long, though, helicopters, some heavy, came in and landed at the heliport, and they heard an occasional boat whistle as well. The island, it appeared, was filling up for the occasion.

Maria was itching to go off on her own and see just what was going on, but Frawley would have none of it. The last time they’d let her go off on her own she’d called in the enemy, and he was taking no chances. He didn’t care who was coming. Whoever they were, they wouldn’t matter after eleven-thirty that night.

Finally they heard hollow voices ahead of them, just as the light was beginning to fade, and they froze as the brush moved back from the tunnel entrance and two men emerged. MacDonald stared and recognized both of them. It was Ross, puffing away on a cigarette, with one of his toadies in security. Clearly the big man was doing all the last minute checks personally.

“…Cramming so many people in that meadow it’ll look like a bunch of sardines,” Ross was saying.

“Well, what can you do?” the other man responded. “You see who some of those guys are? Jeez! We already run the god-damned world!”

“A real United Nations,” Ross agreed. “Sort of gives you a lump to see what progress they’re makin’ towards world peace. Some of them are at war with each other right now.”

They laughed at that.

“You go over to the falls and out to the lookout, I’ll check out the cabin,” Ross ordered his aide.

“Uh-oh,” MacDonald whispered. “If anybody’s monitoring those mikes and doesn’t hear footsteps, we could be in trouble.” He knew it was a risk, but one they had to take.

It was getting dark fast, though, and the aide was back quickly, holding a large lantern-type electric flashlight. Far too quickly to have made the whole rounds and done a careful check. MacDonald relaxed. That was Ross, all right.

“Anything?” he heard the security chief call.

“Naw, nothin’ much,” the aide replied. “Ain’t nobody gonna wander around here much anyway.”

“O.K., all secure at this end. Go back up and take a sweep team around both sides of the Institute. I’m going down to the meadow.”

“Suits me,” said the other, as they approached and then re-entered the tube. “I don’t even want to be near that place tonight…”

Their voices faded away into the mountains.

There was a collective letting out of breaths, and they relaxed a little more. “Give them a half hour to be busy elsewhere,” MacDonald whispered, “then we’ll go down and plant my Lord and his big box where it’ll do the most damage.”

Ross hadn’t even bothered replacing the thick brush camouflage over the tube mouth, so they took advantage of that. Getting the bomb down there was far easier than getting it to where it had rested for the day had been, although there was more nervousness because it was now assembled and armed. They dug the old man in as best they could, then watched as he rigged the dead man’s switch and set the timer, then rigged it to himself. They then used the camouflage to mask him and the bomb from view, and it looked pretty good when they were through.

“We have an extra man,” the Nigerian pointed out. “Want to leave someone here as guard?”

“No, he’ll be more good up there,” Frawley rasped. “What could a guard do here? If they find me, I blow. If they shoot me from behind, or strangle me, I blow.”

“And if you get a sneezing fit you blow,” said the Bishop glumly. “Still, I agree that a sentinel here is a waste. Anyone who can get close enough to prevent him from releasing the switch would take out a sentry as well.” He sighed. “Pip, you old rascal, good luck and god speed. I’m almost looking forward to seeing your reaction on the other side when all your lifelong beliefs are shattered.”

Frawley’s right hand was on the dead man, but he put up his left and the two squeezed hands firmly.

“I still believe we’re going to be snuffed out like a candle,” the old man said, “but I’m prepared to be pleasantly surprised. “Besides, even if you are right, I’ll have the last laugh. I’m sure no candidate for heaven, but I’m going out fighting Hell.” He paused a moment, and all humor faded. “Goodbye, Alfie.”