Matthew Reilly - Area 7

over several more-experienced lieutenants. Despite

his obvious skills, the men called him "Calvin," because he

looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model.

"Jesus H. Christ, Elvis," Love Machine said, "where the

hell did you learn to drive! A demolition derby?"

Area 7 97

"Why? Where have you two been?" Elvis asked.

"Where do you think, knucklehead? Inside Nighthawk

Two. We both dived in there when the shit hit the fan. And

we were kinda happy there until you guys drove us into the

sights of that rocket laun--"

Just then, a volley of bullets smacked into the wall

above their heads.

Ten 7th Squadron men--Bravo Unit--were charging

across the wide hangar after them.

"I presume you had a plan when you drove over here,

Sergeant," Calvin Reeves said to Book II.

At that moment, the elevator pinged and its metal doors

slid open. Thankfully, it was empty.

"This was it, sir," Book II said.

"I approve," Calvin said and they all rushed inside.

Book II went straight to the control panel and hit "door

close."

The doors began to close. A bullet sizzled inside,

smacked against the back wall of the lift.

"Hurry up ..." Elvis urged.

The doors kept closing.

They heard boots thud onto the roof of the cockroach

outside, heard machine-gun bolts cock--

The doors came together ...

... a bare second before they erupted with domelike

welts from the barrage of bullets outside.

IT HAD TAKEN THEM A WHILE, BUT MOVING HAND OVER HAND,

hanging by their fingertips from the cabling gutter that ran

all the way around the elevator shaft, they had eventually

made it to the wide hangar door on the other side.

Hanging one-handed from the horizontal gutter,

Schofield hit a button on a control panel beside the hangar

door. Instantly, the massive steel door began to rumble upward.

Schofield climbed up onto level ground first, made sure

there were no enemy troops around, then turned to help the

others up behind him.

When they were all up, they gazed at the area before

them.

"Whoa, mama ..." Mother breathed.

A cavernous--completely underground--aircraft hangar

stretched away from them.

IN THE CONTROL ROOM OVERLOOKING THE MAIN GROUND

level hangar, the wall of black-and-white television monitors

flashed an array of images from the underground complex:

Juliet Janson and the President running up the stairwell.

Book II, Calvin Reeves, Elvis and Love Machine inside

the regular elevator, punching out the ceiling hatch and

climbing up through it.

Schofield and the others stepping up into the doorway

of the underground hangar.

"--okay, Charlie Unit, I have them. The ones who were

in the ventilation shaft. Level 1 hangar bay. Four Marines:

two male, two female. They're all yours--"

Area 7 99

"--Bravo Unit, your targets have just exited the personnel

elevator through the ceiling hatch. About to lose visual

contact. But they're in the shaft. Sealing all elevator shaft

doors except yours. Okay, they're shut in. Take them out--"

"--sir, Echo Unit has cleaned out the rest of the main

hangar. Awaiting further instructions--"

"Send them to help Charlie," Caesar Russell said, eyeing

the monitor with Shane Schofield on it.

"--Echo, this is Control, proceed to Level 1 hangar bay

for rendezvous with Charlie Unit--"

"--Alpha Unit, Presidential Detail is climbing the stairs.

Coming right for you. Delta Unit, the Level 6 fire door is unguarded.

You are free to enter the stairwell and engage--"

IT WAS ABSOLUTELY GIGANTIC.

An enormous subterranean hangar, roughly the same

size as the one up at ground level, perhaps even larger.

It had several aircraft in it, too.

One converted Boeing 707 AWACS plane, with the

characteristic flying-saucer-like rotodome mounted on its

back. Two sinister-looking B-2 stealth bombers, with their

black radar-absorbent paint, futuristic flying-wing design,

and angry furrowed-brow cockpit windows. And parked directly

in front of the stealth bombers, one Lockheed SR-71

Blackbird, the world's fastest operational aircraft, with its

sleek super-elongated fuselage and twin rear thrusters.

The massive airplanes towered above Schofield and his

team, dominating the cavernous space.

"What do we do now?" Mother asked.

Schofield was momentarily silent.

He was staring intently at the AWACS plane. It just

stood there silently, pointing toward the wide aircraft elevator

shaft.

Then he said, "We find out if what they're saying about

the President's heart is true."

THE AIR IN THE FIRE STAIRS WAS FILLED WITH FLYING BULLETS.

The Presidential Detail, down to three now, guided their

Matthew Reilly

charge up the stairs, leading with their guns, a makeshift array

of Uzis, SIG-Sauers and spare ankle revolvers.

A young male agent named Julio Ramondo led the way,

spraying the stairs above them with his Uzi, despite a bullet

wound to his shoulder.

Special Agent Juliet Janson came after him, having assumed

command of the Detail more by action than protocol.

She guided the President along behind her.

The third and last surviving agent of the Detail--his

name was Curtis--covered their rear, firing down the stairs

behind them as they moved.

At twenty-eight, Juliet Janson was the most junior

member of the President's Detail, but that didn't seem to

matter now.

She had degrees in criminology and psychology, could

run a hundred meters in 13.8 seconds and was an excellent

marksman. The daughter of an American businessman father

and a Taiwanese university lecturer mother, she had a

flawless Eurasian complexion--smooth olive skin, a sharply

defined jawline, beautiful almond-brown eyes and shoulder

length jet-black hair.

"Ramondo! Can you see it!" she shouted above the

gunfire.

After the horror of their attempt to get to Level 6 and

the bloody death of Frank Cutler, the President and his Detail

had been left in the middle of a 7th Squadron sandwich.

The unit down on Level 6 was coming up after them,

while the unit that had chased them out of the common room

on Level 3 was closing in on them from above.

What that had left them with was a race--a race to get

to one of the floors in between Level 6 and Level 3 before

they faced fire from both above and below.

"Yes! I see it!" Ramondo yelled back. "Come on!"

Juliet Janson arrived on the landing next to Ramondo,

with the President beside her. Thumping footfalls echoed

down the stairwell above them, bullets ripped apart the walls

all around them.

Janson saw the nearest door, saw the sign on it:

Area 7 101

LEVEL 5: ANIMAL CONTAINMENT AREA

NO ENTRY

THIS DOOR FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY

ENTER VIA ELEVATORS AT OTHER END OF FLOOR

"I think this qualifies as an emergency," she said, before

blasting the door's locks with three shots from her

SIG-Sauer.

Then she kicked open the door and hauled the President

into Level 5.

BOOK II LOOKED UP INTO THE DARKNESS OF THE REGULAR elevator

shaft, saw the outer doors that led to the ground-level

hangar about fifty feet above him.

He was standing on top of the personnel elevator--now

stopped midway down the shaft--with Calvin, Elvis and Love Machine. A few widely spaced fluorescent lights illuminated

the enclosed concrete elevator well.

"Why did we have to get out of the elevator?" Elvis