Matthew Reilly - Area 7

There was, however, still one thing that nagged at him.

The two messages in English that he had found in amongst

the Afrikaans messages.

He played the two messages again, listened intently.

16-HIM 19:56:09 ENGLISH--ENGLISH

VOICE 3: Everything is in place. Everything is in place.

Confirm that it's the third. Confirm that it's the third.

22-JUN 20:51:59 ENGLISH--ENGLISH

VOICE 3: Mission is a go. Mission is a go.

One thing was certain. It was the same voice on both

messages.

A man's voice. American. Southern accent. Speaking

slowly, deliberately.

Fairfax pushed his glasses up onto his nose, started typing

on his keyboard.

He brought up a voice analysis program.

Then he compared the taped voice's digital signature--

or "voiceprint"--with the signatures of every other voice in

the DIA's mainframe, every voice the Agency had ever secretly

recorded.

No.

DATE

DIVISION

SOURCE FILE

1. 29-May SPACE DIV-01 SAT-SURV (FILE 034-77A)

2. 07-Jun SPACEDIV-01 SAT-SURV (FILE 034-77A)

3. 16-Jun SPACEDIV-02 USAF-SA(R)07 (FILE 009-21 D)

4. 22-Jun SPACEDIV-02 USAF-SA(R)07 (FILE 009-21 D)

5. 02-Jul SPACEDIV-01 SAT-SURV (FILE 034-77A)

6. 03-Jul SPACEDIV-01 SAT-SURV (FILE 034-77A)

Matthew Reilly

Spiked displays whizzed across his screen as the program

accessed the Agency's massive database of voiceprints.

And then the computer beeped:

6 MATCHES FOUND

DISPLAY ALL MATCHES?

"Yes, please," Fairfax said as he hit the "Y" key.

Six entries appeared on his screen:

Okay, Fairfax thought.

He discarded the third and the fourth entries--they

were the two messages that he'd just played. Their division

designator, spacediv-02, meant his own section, Section 2.

The other four messages, however, were the property of

Section 1, the main unit of Space Division located across the

hall.

The source file for the Section 1 messages, SAT-SURV,

stood for "Satellite Surveillance." Section 1, it seemed, had

been tapping into foreign satellite transmissions lately.

Fairfax clicked on the first entry:

29MAY

13:12:00

SATELLITE INTERCEPT (ENGLISH!

VOICE 1: They did the test this morning. The vaccine is

operational against all previous strains. All they need

now is a sample of the latest version.

Fairfax frowned. The messages in Afrikaans had also

mentioned a vaccine. And a successful test.

He hit the next entry:

area 7

7-jun 23:47:33 satellite intercept (english

VOICE 1: Virus snatch team is en route to Changchun. Nan

are CAPTAIN ROBERT WU and LIEUTENANT CHET

Both can be trusted. As discussed, the price

delivery of the vaccine to you will be one hundred

and twenty million dollars, ten million for each of

twelve men involved.

Changchun, Fairfax thought. The Chinese bioweapons

production facility.

And a hundred and twenty million dollars, to be divided

among twelve men.

This was getting interesting.

Next:

2-JUL 02:21:57 SATELLITE INTERCEPT

(CHINESE--ENGLISH)

VOICE 1: Copy that, Yellow Star. We'll be there.

What is this--? Fairfax thought.

Yellow Star?

But that was the ...

He clicked on the final message:

3-JUL 04:04:42 SATELLITE INTERCEPT ENGLISH

VOICE 1: WU and LI have arrived back at Area 7 with the vin

Your men are with them. All the money has been

accounted for. Names of my men who will need to

be extracted: BENNETT, CALVERT, COLEMAN, DAYTON,

FROMMER, GRAYSON, LITTLETON, MESSICK, OLIVER

and myself.

Fairfax was looking at the names on the last messaj

when suddenly the door to his subterranean office was flung

open and his boss--a tall, bald bureaucrat named Eugene

Wisher--stormed into the room, followed by three heavily

278

Matthew Reilly

armed military policemen. Wisher was in charge of the operation

going on across the hall--the tracking of the newly

launched Chinese space shuttle.

"Fairfax!" he bellowed. "What the hell are you doing

in here!"

Fairfax gulped, eyed the MP's guns fearfully. "Uh,

wha-- what are you talking about?"

"Why are you accessing intercepted transmissions from

our operation?"

"Your operation?" Fairfax said.

"Yes. Our operation. Why are you downloading information

from the mainframe that pertains to the classified operation

going on in Section 1?"

Fairfax fell silent, deep in thought, while his boss kept

yelling at him.

And suddenly it all became very, very clear.

"Oh, Christ," he breathed.

IT TOOK SOME EXPLAINING--AT GUNPOINT--BUT AFTER FIVE

minutes, Dave Fairfax suddenly found himself standing in

front of two DIA Assistant Directors in the operations room

across the hall from his windowless office.

Monitors glowed all around the room, technicians worked

at over a dozen consoles--all of it related to the tracking of the

newly launched Chinese Space Shuttle, the Yellow Star.

"I need a personnel list for Special Area 7," the twenty-five-year-old Fairfax said to the two high-ranking DLA

chiefs standing before him.

A list came.

Fairfax looked at it. It read:

UNITED STATES AIR FORCE

SPECIAL AREA (RESTRICTED) 07

ON-SITE PERSONNEL

CLASSIFICATION: TOP SECRET

NAME

UNIT

NAME

UNIT

COMMAND UNIT

Harper, JT (CO)

7TH SQUADRON

Alvarez, MJ A

Arthurs, RT C

Atlock, FD B

Baines, AW A

Bennett, B E

Biggs, NM

Boland, CS

Boyce, LW

Calvert, ET

Carney, LE

282

Matthew Reilly

NAME UNIT

Price, AL

Rawson, MJ

Sayles, MT

Sommers, SR C C B C Stone, JK Taylor, AS Willis, IS Wolfson, HT C B C A

CIVILIAN STAFF

Botha, GW MED

Franklin, HS MED

Shaw, DE MED

"Anybody else see a pattern here?" Fairfax said.

All of the men named in the intercepted transmission

were from the unit designated "E"--or in military parlance

"Echo."

"The only man in 'E' who isn't mentioned," Fairfax

said, "is this one, 'Carney, LE.' I can only assume that he's

the man speaking on the tape."

Fairfax turned to the two DIA chiefs standing beside

him. "There's a rogue unit at that base. A rogue unit that has

been communicating with the Chinese government and its

new space shuttle. All the men in Echo Unit."

"--echo unit. report--"

"--This is Echo leader" the voice of Captain Lee "Cobra"

Carney replied.

Cobra spoke with a slow Southern drawl--measured,

icy, dangerous. "We're in the Level 3 livin' quarters. Just

swept the two underground hangar levels. Nothin' there.

Workin' our way down through the complex now, coverin'

the stairwell as we go."

"--Copy that, Echo leader--"

"Sir," another of the radio operators turned to Caesar

Russell, "Charlie Unit just arrived back from the lake.

They're outside, and they have the boy."

"Good. Losses?"

"Five."

"Acceptable. And Botha?" Caesar asked.

"Dead."

"Even better. Let them in through the top door."

gant and the others headed for the fire stairwell at

the eastern end of Level 4.

"I know this isn't exactly relevant to the present situation,"

Mother said as she and Gant walked side by side, "but

I've been meaning to ask you about your little date with the

Scarecrow last Saturday. You haven't said anything about it."

Gant gave Mother a crooked grin. "Not looking for gossip,

are we, Mother?"

"Why, hell yes. That's exactly what I'm looking for