Matthew Reilly - Area 7

Schofield and Mother.

"But, sir--" Schofield began.

"Captain. If I'm going to die today as the representative

of this country, I'm not going to do it cowering in some corner,

waiting to be found. It's time to stand up and be

counted. And besides, it looks like you could do with some

numbers."

Schofield nodded. "If you say so, sir. Just stay close and

shoot straight."

The elevator doors closed and Schofield hit the button

for ground level.

Then he brought Tate's cell phone back to his ear.

"Okay, Mr. Fairfax. Twenty-five words or less. Tell me

everything you know about this rogue Air Force unit."

IN HIS SUBTERRANEAN ROOM IN WASHINGTON, DAVE FAIRFAX

sat up straighter in his chair.

Events had just gotten a lot more real.

First, he had picked up the cell phone call coming out of Area 8. Then he had cut across the line--interrupting some moron--and now he was speaking to this Schofield character, a Marine on the President's helicopter detail. As soon as

he had heard it, Fairfax had punched Schofield's serial number into his computer. Now he had Schofield's complete military history--including his current posting on Marine One--right in front of him.

"Okay," Fairfax said into his headset mike. "As I said, I'm DIA, and recently I've been decoding a set of unauthorized transmissions coming out of those bases. Now, first of all, we think a team of former South African Reccondos are heading there--"

"Don't mind them. Killed them already," Schofield's voice said. "The rogue unit. Tell me about the rogue unit."

"Oh ... okay," Fairfax said. "By our reckoning, the rogue unit is one of the five 7th Squadron units guarding the

Area 7 complex: the unit designated 'Echo' ..."

at area 8, the elevator whizzed up the shaft.

Fairfax's voice came through the cell phone. "... I believe that this unit is aiding Chinese agents in an attempt to steal a biological vaccine that was being developed at

Area 7."

Schofield said, "Do you have any idea how they're going to get the vaccine out of America?"

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"Uh, yeah ... yeah I do," Fairfax's voice said. "But you

might not believe it ..."

"I'll believe just about anything, Mr. Fairfax. Try me."

"Okay ... I believe they're going to load the vaccine

onto a satellite-killer shuttle based at Area 8 and fly it up

into a low orbit where they will rendezvous with the Chinese

space shuttle that launched last week. They will then transfer

both themselves and the vaccine onto the Chinese shuttle

and land it back inside Chinese territory where we can't get

to it or them ..."

"Son of a bitch," Schofield breathed.

"I know it sounds crazy, but ..."

"... but it's the only way to get something out of the

United States," Schofield said. "We could stop any other extraction

method--car, plane, boat. But if they went up into

space, we'd never be able to follow them. They'd be home by

the time we got a chase shuttle onto the pad at Canaveral."

"Exactly"

"Thanks, Mr. Fairfax. Call the Marines and the Army,

and get them to mobilize whatever air-capable units they

have--carriers, choppers, anything--and send them directly

to Areas 7 and 8. Do not use the Air Force. Repeat: Do

not use the Air Force. Until further notification, treat all Air

Force personnel as suspicious."

As he spoke, Schofield saw the illuminated numbers on

the elevator ticking upward: "SL-3 ... SL-2 ..."

"As for us," Schofield said, "we have to go now."

"What are you going to do? What about the President? "

"sl-!" became "g" and suddenly Schofield heard muffled

gunfire beyond the elevator doors.

Ping!

The elevator had reached the ground floor.

"We're going after the vaccine," he said. "Call you

later."

And he hung up.

A second later, the elevator's doors opened--

SIXTH CONFRONTATION

3 July, 1023 Hours

--AND SUDDENLY SCHOFIELD AND THE OTHERS ENTERED A

whole new ball game.

In the main hangar of Area 8, a fierce gun battle was already

under way.

Explosions boomed, gunfire roared.

Shafts of sunlight streamed in through the hangar's gigantic

open doors. About fifty yards away from the elevator,

filling the open doorway--partially blocking the incoming

sun--was the birdlike rear end of a silver Boeing 747.

"Son of a bitch," Schofield breathed as he saw the

streamlined space shuttle mounted on the 747's back.

Gunfire rang out from over by the hangar doors.

Five black-clad 7th Squadron commandos--the treacherous men from Echo Unit, Schofield guessed--were taking cover behind the doors, firing their P-90's at something outside the hangar.

"This way," Schofield said, hurrying out of the elevator.

The three of them skirted around a Humvee and a pair of

cockroach towing vehicles until they could see what lay beyond

the hangar doors: two black Penetrator helicopters,

hovering low over the tarmac outside the hangar, blocking

the way of the shuttle-carrying 747.

The six-barreled Vulcan miniguns mounted underneath

the noses of the two Penetrators were raining down a storm

of bullets on the Echo Unit men in the hangar--pinning

them down, preventing them from dashing across the twenty

yards of open ground to the wheeled stairway that led onto

the 747.

Missiles lanced out from the wing stubs of the Penetrators,

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zeroing in on the 747. But the jumbo must have been

using the latest electromagnetic countermeasures, because

the missiles never got near them--they just went berserk as

soon as they got close to the big plane, rolling through the

air away from it, before slamming into the ground and detonating

in showers of concrete and sand.

Even the onslaught of flashing orange tracer bullets

from the helicopters just veered away from the body of the

giant jumbo, as if some invisible magnetic shield prevented

them coming near it.

From his position behind the cockroach, Schofield recognized

two of the men seated inside one of the helicopters:

Caesar Russell and Kurt Logan.

I'll bet Caesar's not happy with Echo, he thought.

Caesar and Logan must have arrived only moments

earlier--just as the men of Echo had been boarding their escape

plane. Caesar's choppers, it seemed, must have opened

fire before all the Echo men had been able to get on the

plane, before they'd been able to get away with Kevin.

Kevin ...

Schofield scanned the battlefield. He couldn't see the

little boy anywhere.

He must already be on board the plane ...

And then without warning the 747 powered up, its four

massive jet engines blasting air everywhere, sending any

loose objects tumbling across the hangar.

The plane started moving forward--away from the

hangar, out onto the runway--toward the two black Penetrators.

Its wheeled staircase clattered to the ground behind it.

It was a good tactic.

The Penetrators knew that they stood no chance against

the weight of the rolling 747, so they split like a pair of

frightened pigeons, moving out of the way of the massive

jumbo.

It was then that Schofield saw an Echo man standing in

the open side door of the 747, saw him wave to his men still

in the hangar and then toss a thin rope ladder from the doorway.

area 7 393

The rope ladder hung from the small doorway, swaying

beneath the rolling plane.

At that same moment, movement near the hangar's entry

caught his eye and he spun, and saw the five Echo men