Matthew Reilly - Area 7

He opened his eyes.

He was lying on top of one of the enormous wooden

cargo crates that hung from the main hangar's ceiling mounted rail network.

It had been parked just outside the control room, a little

to the left, allowing the command center a clear view of the

hangar.

A triangle of thick chains connected the massive crate

to the overhead rail system six feet above it. The chains were

held together by a spring-loaded ring mechanism not unlike

the closable circular latch one finds on a necklace.

Attached to the ring mechanism was a square control

unit made up of three big buttons which presumably moved

the crate back and forth along the rails.

Then suddenly, the crate rocked wildly and Schofield

looked up to see that Kurt Logan had jumped out onto it after

him.

DOWN ON THE HANGAR FLOOR, LIBBY GANT HAD HEARD THE

crash of breaking glass and snapped to look up.

She had just found what she was looking for amid the

debris on the floor when she saw Schofield come exploding

out through the control room's windows and land hard on

the wooden crate suspended high above the hangar floor.

Then she saw Kurt Logan jump out through the window,

and land easily on the crate next to him.

"No ..." Gant breathed.

She drew her gun, but abruptly, a barrage of bullet

impact-sparks lit up the floor all around her.

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She dived for cover behind a couple of dead bodies.

When she finally looked up, she saw Caesar Russell leaning

out from the destroyed control room windows, brandishing a

P-90 and yelling, "No, no, no! A fair fight, please!"

"warning. nine minutes to facility self-destruct ..."

Up on the wooden crate, Logan kneeled astride

Schofield, hit him hard in the face.

"You've made today a lot harder than it had to be, Captain."

His face gleamed with anger in the strobelike red light.

Another punch. Hard.

Schofield's head slammed back against the crate, his

nose gushing with blood.

Logan then grabbed the control unit above his head and

hit a button.

With a jolt and a sway and the clanking of mechanical

gears, the crate began to move out across the hangar,

toward the open aircraft elevator shaft. It was petrol

powered, so it hadn't been affected by the complex's power

loss.

As the crate began to glide out over the hangar, Logan kept pounding Schofield, talking as he did so.

"You know, I remember--"

Punch.

"--taking out you Marine pussies at the annual

war games--"

Punch.

"--Too fucking easy. You're a disgrace--"

Punch.

"--to the country, to the flag, and to your fucking bitch

whore mothers."

Punch.

Schofield could barely keep his eyes open.

Christ, he was getting his ass kicked ...

And then the crate swung out over the four-hundredfoot-deep

aircraft elevator shaft and Logan pressed a button

on the control unit, stopping it.

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Matthew Reilly

The big crate swung to a halt directly above the wide,

yawning shaft.

"Warning. Eight minutes to facility self-destruct ..."

Schofield peered over the edge of the crate, saw the

shaft's concrete walls, now lined with revolving red lights,

plummeting like four matching vertical cliffs down into bottomless

black.

"Good-bye, Captain Schofield," Logan said, as he lifted

Schofield by his lapels and stood him at the edge of the

crate.

Schofield--battered, bloody, bruised and exhausted-- couldn't resist. He stood unsteadily at the edge of the crate,

the great hole of the elevator shaft yawning wide beneath

him.

He thought about the Maghook on his back, but then

saw the ceiling. It was made of sheer flat fiberglass. The

Maghook wouldn't stick to it with its magnet, nor could it

get a purchase on it with its hook.

In any case, he didn't have any energy left to fight.

No more guns.

No more Maghooks.

No more ejection seats.

He had nothing that Logan didn't have more of.

And then, just as Logan was about to push him off the

edge of the crate, Schofield saw Gant--a shadow amid the

redness--saw her taking cover behind some bodies next to

the eastern rim of the elevator shaft.

Except friends ...

He turned suddenly to face Logan ...

... and to Logan's complete surprise, he smiled, and

raised his open palm, revealing his Secret Service microphone.

Schofield then looked Logan deep in the eye and said,

"Sydney Harbour Bridge, Gant. You take the negative."

Logan frowned. "Huh?"

And then before Logan could even think to do anything,

with his last ounce of strength, Schofield reached over

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Logan's shoulder and unlatched the spring-loaded ring mechanism

holding the crate to the overhead rail system.

The result was instantaneous.

In a kind of hellish slow motion that was only accentuated

by the strobing red lighting, the crate--with both

Schofield and Logan on it--just fell away from its ceiling

mounted rails, spilling the two combatants off its back ...

... and the three of them--Schofield, Logan and the

crate itself--dropped together into the four-hundred-foot

abyss of the elevator shaft.

SCHOFIELD FELL THROUGH THE AIR.

Fast.

At first he saw the red-lit hangar rushing past him,

swinging upwards--then suddenly that image was replaced

by the rim of the elevator shaft, swooshing by him as he

dropped into the shaft itself. Then all he saw were rapidly

rushing concrete walls speeding by in a blur of gray and he

glanced up and saw the wide square up at the top of the shaft

shrinking very, very quickly above him.

He saw Logan falling beside him, a look of absolute terror

on his face. It looked as if Logan couldn't believe what

Schofield had just done.

He'd just dropped both of them into the shaft, crate and

all!

Schofield, however, just prayed that Gant had heard him.

And as he fell through the air, surrounded by red light,

he coolly unslung his Maghook, initiated its magnet, selected

a positive charge, and looked up in search of his only

hope.

gant had heard his call.

Now she lay on her stomach on the rim of the shaft,

aiming her own Maghook--now charged negatively--down

into it.

"Scarecrow," she said into her radio mike, "you fire

first. I'll make the shot."

AS HE FELL DOWN THE ELEVATOR SHAFT, SCHOFIELD FIRED HIS positively charged Maghook into the air.

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It rocketed up the shaft--flying perfectly vertical--its

tail rope wobbling through the air behind it.

Kurt Logan, falling alongside Schofield, saw what he

was doing and yelled, "No ...!"

"Come on, Fox," Schofield whispered. "Don't let me

die."

libby gant's eyes narrowed as she gazed down the barrel

of her Maghook.

Despite all the distractions around her--the flashing red

lights, the klaxons, the droning electronic warning voice--

she drew a bead on Schofield's flying Maghook: an arcing

dot of glinting metal shooting up out of the blackness of the

shaft, coming toward her.

"Nothing's impossible," she whispered to herself.

Then, cool as ice, she pulled the trigger on her own

Maghook.

Whump!

The bulbous magnetic head of her Maghook shot out of

its launcher, rushed down into the shaft, trailing its own

length of rope.

schofield's maghook shot up the shaft.

Gant's Maghook shot down the shaft.

Schofield fell, with Logan and the crate beside him.