Clive Cussler: Zero Hour

He tried to control it, but the longer he stood in silence, the more his mind wandered.

All those who’d been called to this room felt great trepidation. Their master resided here. He ruled from here like a dictator, gave pronouncements from here like a judge.

No one knew that better than Janko. He’d brought many here against their will and dragged them out of the room afterward, either sentenced to some awful punishment or dead.

Two members of the guard stood behind him. Short-barreled versions of the American M16 rifle were clutched in their hands.

In a way, they were Janko’s men. After all, he was Captain of the Guard. He chose not to look at them. They were not here to support him, they’d received an order to bring him in.

Across from the group, staring out a window into utter darkness, their master waited. “What’s your main function, Janko?”

The imposing figure spoke without turning. There was a strange hushed quality to the voice. It came from scorched and damaged vocal cords.

“I am chief of security, as you well know,” Janko replied.

“And how do you judge your performance in light of recent events?”

Maxmillian Thero turned around. Janko saw familiar burn scars that ran up the man’s neck and onto his face. Only Thero’s mouth was visible, twisted into a scarred cut by what must have been a horrible fire. The nose, eyes, the right ear, and the rest of the face lay beneath a black latex mask. The mask hid features too hideous to show, but it also put a sense of fear into those who looked upon it. It separated him from them. It made him seem less, or perhaps more, than human.

Janko had the impression he was looking upon a demigod of some type, a being that should have been dead several times over — from fire, from gunshots, from radiation — and yet he still lived. Janko did not want to disappoint this demigod, but he could not bring himself to lie. He summoned all his courage.

“We have been endangered,” Janko admitted. “Our purpose may have been compromised. Despite great effort, I’ve failed to find the one who puts our goals at risk. The failure is mine. And mine alone.”

“You speak the truth,” Thero said. “How did it occur?”

“The dive master is in possession of all keys. He cannot explain how Panos was able to gain access to the airlock. Either the dive master is lying or there is a conspiracy. One that goes beyond Panos and the other traitors. But there is no way to account for all the strange things that have occurred. No one single person has access to all areas that have been breached. You know how tightly things are watched.”

Thero nodded, the soft latex of the mask catching the small amount of light that was present. The reflections danced up and down the mask, as if it was sending and receiving signals.

“Panos was driven from here,” Thero said. “That can mean only one thing: the help comes from the outside. From one of those we have trusted to do our business in the secular world.”

Janko did not agree, but he kept that to himself.

Thero shifted his weight. “You see the difficulty of my position, don’t you, Janko? I no longer know who to trust. Either here or on the island. Particularly because the next diamond shipment is ready to be sent. This one is the largest yet. But I can’t count on the other men to carry out the transactions.”

“Postpone it,” Janko suggested.

“The longer those diamonds sit, the bigger men’s eyes get,” Thero said. “I won’t delay the cargo any further. You will return to the island and take it personally.”

Janko’s eyes lit up. “Me?”

“First, you will kill the others, all those who have done our business before,” Thero explained. “Then you will take possession of the shipment and travel to Jakarta, where a buyer awaits us.”

Janko could hardly believe what he was hearing. He’d come to Thero’s chambers expecting to be tortured or even killed. Instead, he was being offered a great honor.

He knew to grasp it immediately. Thero’s mercurial personality ran hot and cold, munificent at one moment, cruel and murderous the next. All those around him had learned to fear the strange pauses he was prone to, the odd looks he gave, as if searching the mist for something only he could see. Paranoia and power were a dangerous combination.

“I will do as you require,” Janko said firmly.

“Take these guards and go to your task. I will meet you on the island. I expect to see the bodies of the traitors when I get there.”

Janko stood taller and glanced at the men behind him. They snapped to attention. “The traitors will talk and then die,” he said, doubting the other men were traitors at all but far happier to put them to death than to die himself.

Janko turned and strode out the door with the two guards following close behind.

Thero remained where he was, watching as the rusted steel door slammed shut behind them. In the muted silence, he considered the situation. Janko could be trusted, he thought. He’d been with them for so long.

The sound of footsteps emerged from the darkened room behind him. Thero turned in time to see a young man coming forth from the shadows. He had cropped blond hair, a slight build, and a sad and weary look about his eyes. He wore a lab coat.

“It won’t take long for the Australians to find us here,” the young man said. “Not now. Not after this.”

“True,” Thero said.

The young man was Thero’s son, George. He was also the chief designer of the latest version of Thero’s system, a weapon that would literally shake the Earth to its core.

“You’re quite right, my son,” Thero said. “What would you have me do?”

“There’s no reason to keep this station around,” George said. “We should leave. Have Janko stay behind and scuttle the station. Then he can join us and complete his other task.”

“But this station will help us inflict the pain we seek,” Thero countered.

“The main system on the island will soon be operational,” George said. “Once it is, we will be invulnerable. We should move everything of value there.”

“When will it be up and running?”

“Within days.”

“Excellent,” Thero said, beaming with pride. “You’ve succeeded where so many others have failed. Soon, we’ll show the world how they’ve lived in ignorance. We’ll make the nations that shunned us pay.”

The young man looked downcast.

“You disagree?”

“Proving the system works, proving that we can draw unlimited energy from the void around us, surely that’s vindication enough? That and the wealth that will follow.”

“No,” Thero said sharply. “It’s not even close. Look what they’ve done to us. To me. To you. They’ve stolen everything. Mocked us and murdered your sister. They sent us away like we carried the plague, abandoned us to certain death. All the nations of the world are complicit in this. All the nations we could have helped.”

Thero’s tone softened. George had always been the merciful one. George’s sister had been more like her father. “You’re too forgiving,” Thero said. “I can’t afford to be that way. I won’t hand them the gift we’ve created. Not without extracting my pound of flesh first.”

Thero’s son looked up at him. He nodded grudgingly.

“The system must be tested,” he reminded his father. “If we can’t fine-tune it, then neither dream will come to fruition.”

“Only the most minor tests,” Thero said. “The world must remain in the dark until the zero hour arrives.”

Joe Zavala stood on the ramp at the Cairns airport as the speeders he’d brought with him were secured on a pallet and towed toward a waiting aircraft.