Matthew Reilly - Area 7

Despite their own considerable size, the two Presidential

helicopters were dwarfed by the cavernous hangar.

Having supervised the roll-in of the choppers, Schofield

now stood in the middle of the massive interior space, alone,

scanning it silently.

The rest of the Marine,

contingent--those who hadn't been senior enough to go

with the President, about twenty people--variously milled

about the helicopters or drank coffee in the two glass-walled

offices that flanked the main doors.

The size of the hangar stunned Schofield.

It was gigantic.

Completely illuminated by brilliant white halogen

lights, it must have stretched at least a hundred yards into the

mountain. A ceiling-mounted rail system ran for its entire

length. At the moment, two large wooden crates hung from

the rails at either end of the hangar.

At the far end of the vast space--facing the doors that

led out to the runway--stood a two-story, completely internal building that ran for the full width of the hangar. This

building's upper floor had angled glass windows that looked

out over the hangar floor.

A small unobtrusive personnel elevator sat quietly underneath

the overhang created by the building's upper level,

sunk in the hangar's northern wall.

Apart from the Presidential helicopters, there were no

other aircraft in the hangar at present. Some large white

painted towing vehicles not unlike those seen at airports lay

Area 7 47

scattered around the hangar floor--indeed, Schofield had

used two of them to bring in the choppers.

By far the most striking feature of the immense hangar,

however, was the massive aircraft elevator platform that lay

in its center.

It was huge, unbelievably huge, like the enormous hydraulic

elevators that hang off the sides of aircraft carriers--

a giant square-shaped platform in the very center of the

hangar.

At 200 feet by 200 feet, the platform was large enough

to hold an entire AWACS Boeing 707--the Air- Force's famous

radar-detecting airplanes, known for the thirty-foot

flying-saucer-like rotodomes mounted on their backs.

Supported by an unseen hydraulic lift system, the giant

platform took up nearly the whole of the central Area of the

hangar. As with similar aircraft elevators, to maximize efficiency,

on the northeastern corner of the platform was a small detachable section which was itself a working elevator, capable

of operating independently of the larger platform. To do

this it ran on rails attached to the wall of the elevator shaft

rather than on the main platform's telescoping hydraulic

strut--a kind of "platform within a platform," so to speak.

Today, however, the Air Force personnel at Area 7 were

putting on the whole show.

As he stood at the edge of the enormous elevator shaft,

Schofield could see the President--with his nine-man Secret

Service Detail and his high-ranking Air Force tour guides--

standing on the full-sized platform, getting smaller and

smaller as they descended the wide concrete shaft on it.

AT THAT VERY SAME MOMENT, AS SHANE SCHOFIELD STOOD IN

the center of the vast hangar bay, looking down into the wide

elevator shaft, someone else was watching him.

The watcher stood in Area 7's darkened control room,

on the upper floor of the internal building that formed the

eastern wall of the hangar. Around him, four uniformed radio

operators spoke softly into headset microphones:

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Matthew Reilly

"--Alpha Unit, cover the Level 3 common room--"

"--Echo Unit advises that the Marine investigatory

team from Nighthawk Three had to be neutralized out at the

EEV. They found the secondary advance team. Echo is parking

their chopper in one of the outside hangars now. Returning

to the main hangar when they're done--"

"--Bravo and Charlie Units are to remain in main

hangar--"

"--Delta Unit reports that it is now in position--"

"--the Secret Service are trying to contact their primary

advance team on Level 6. The simulated All-Clear signal,

however, appears to be working--"

Major Kurt Logan arrived at the side of the shadowy

figure. "Sir. The President and his Detail just arrived on

Level 4. All units are in position."

"Good."

"Shall we move now?"

"No. Let him take the tour," the faceless man said.

"There is still one more thing that has to be taken care of before

we can begin."

"GOOD MORNING."

Schofield turned, and saw the smiling faces of Libby

Gant and Mother Newman.

"Hey there," he said.

"Ralph's still pissed at you," Mother said. "He wants a

rematch."

Ralph was Mother's husband. A short nugget of a man

with a moon-shaped smiling face and a limitless ability to

put up with Mother's eccentricities, he was a trucker, owning

his own Mack eighteen-wheeler. It had a painting of an

arrow-struck heart on its side with the word "Mother" flowing

over it. With his short stature and ready smile, Ralph was

widely regarded in the Marine community as a bona fide

legend.

He was also the proud owner of a new barbecue, and at

the obligatory Sunday afternoon lunch at Mother's place a

few weeks ago, he'd challenged Schofield to a shoot-off on

the garage basketball hoop. Schofield had let him win and

Ralph knew it.

"Maybe next weekend?" Schofield said. "How about

you? How'd that checkup on the leg go yesterday?"

"In a word, Scarecrow, sen-sational," Mother

said. "I got full movement and I can run just as fast as I used

to. That seemed to satisfy the docs. Hell, I told 'em that just

last week I bowled 275, but that didn't seem to mean much.

Either way, since I'm now part machine, I want a new nickname:

Darth Fucking Vader."

Schofield laughed. "Okay, Darth."

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Matthew Reilly

"You having trouble with Ramrod again?" Gant asked

seriously.

"The usual," Schofield said. "Hey, happy birthday."

Gant smiled. "Thanks."

"I got you something." Schofield reached into his dress

coat pocket. "It's not huge or anything, but ..." he frowned,

patted his other pockets. "Damn, it's here somewhere.

Maybe it's back on the chopper ..."

"Don't worry about it."

"Can I give it to you later?"

"Sure."

Mother gazed at the enormous hangar around them.

"What the fuck is this place? Looks like Fort Knox."

"More than that," Schofield said.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at the floor just inside the hangar doors."

Mother and Gant did. A series of box-shaped indentations

ran in a line across the concrete floor in front of the

doors. Each indentation was at least a yard square and deep.

"Now look up."

They did, and saw a series of thick, toothlike metal

protrusions--protrusions which, when lowered, would fit

perfectly into the box-shaped indentations on the floor.

"Piston-driven armored door," Schofield said, "like the

ones they have on Nimitz-class carriers. They're used to divide

the ship's hangar bays into self-contained zones in case

of fire or explosion. But, you'll notice that there aren't any

other armored doors in this hangar. That's the only one,

which means it's the only exit."

"So what are you saying?" Mother asked.

"I'm saying," Schofield said, "that whatever they're doing

in this complex is more important than you or I could

possibly imagine."

THE WIDE ELEVATOR PLATFORM HOLDING THE PRESIDENT OF the United States jolted to a halt in front of a giant steel door