Objekt 221 Page 12

  “What is it, Scott?”

  “Not sure, sir,” he said. “I’m not sure there’s a deeper meaning. Maybe just some innocuous wordplay.”

  “Go on,” Reed said.

  “The names of these facilities. Rainier Mesa. Anvil Canyon. The island off Florida is referred to as Frenchman’s Flat. These are all…”

  “The names of former nuclear test sites.”

  “Yes,” Alex said. “Of course, they must be named in honor of. Anvil Hill, which is, I suppose, where the reference to Anvil Canyon originated, was actually in Australia.”

  “Frenchman Flat—a slight variation of the name—was in Nevada,” Jon “Beans” Culver offered.

  “We picked up on that,” Reed said. “We’re not sure if there’s any actual association with the various facilities. We’re considering putting some IT people on it to see if the trend continues. We know of at least three other Allied facilities worldwide. Best we can tell, they’re just trying to be clever. Allied is into a lot of stuff, but none of it looks energy-related.”

  Reed turned to the second page of his prepared notes and flipped forward through his binder. He was silent and the four men all sat waiting for him to continue.

  “The scientists are important,” he finally continued. “But they are not the most shocking part of this story.” He waited for a moment. He had given a thousand mission briefings in his lifetime, but none as strange as this one.

  “Allied Genetics has developed a time portal to send their researchers back to the dinosaur era.” The four men jerked in shock, their chairs sliding across the polished concrete floor. They all reached for their binders in unison. “They have devoted an entire facility to coming up with new and exciting human-dinosaur cross-modifications. Hochhaus, the flak tower, is the hub for this operation. We interrupted their experiments, however, as their specimen was still being tested and housed at the Port Radnovich facility.”

  “Frenchman’s Flat,” Beef suggested.

  Clay nodded in response.

  “According to internal documents, this project started nearly a year ago. They’ve been doing extensive planning and experimentation. The first viable specimen was in holding at Frenchman’s Flat. Their timing was just unlucky.”

  “I’d say,” Everson said under his breath.

  “In any event,” Reed continued, “you’ll see the high-level summary in your binders. This is all considered mission prep. You’ll be going to the belly of the beast. Alpha Complex. Anvil Canyon. Objekt 221.”

  The men, the four field commanders, started flipping to various pages of the mission binder. They were all going to different parts of the document, making various notes. Clay Reed reached across his body to a small stack of paperwork on his right. He picked up four manila folders and started sliding them around the table.

  “Sir, mission parameters?” Beans Culver asked.

  “Affirmative, soldier.” Reed sat back into his chair and leaned forward. He pulled his version of the mission parameters—the folders he had just slid to his men—from the inside pocket of his binder. “We’ll go through this step by step. Scott and Everson will be boots on the ground. Culver will run overwatch from the remote. Bilkins will bat cleanup.”

  “Like always.” Eric “Sixpack” Bilkins grinned at Alex, who nodded back to him in response.

  “You wish, buddy.” Alex smiled.

  Beans Culver ignored the friendly banter as he started flipping through the mission parameters. It was a fairly short report that listed suggested weaponry, vehicles, ingress, and egress. There was a print of the last-known blueprint of the facility with some notes added by various contractors who were questioned. There was a timing schedule and profiles of the five scientists mentioned by name in the email exchange between Britta and Sven. There was one page that Beans was reading through a second time.

  “I see that we’re starting with a gag,” he said, still looking down at his folder, not addressing anyone in particular.

  “Yes, Jon,” said Reed. “Yes, we are.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Back of the Building

  IT WASN’T much longer until the survivors reached the Gamma Complex. Both the security team and the team of researchers were in tatters. They had sprinted the final half-mile through the trees, listening to the various hoots and howls of the different predators in the area. On the edge of terror and exertion, their faceplate HUDs were displaying various warnings—both in proximity alerts and in physical danger.

  Damon’s lungs were scalding and he could feel his heart thundering in his ears.

  “Gamma Complex,” Miles said as they slowed to a stop outside a huge steel door. The building was the mirror image of how the research team entered ancient Crimea earlier in the day. In fact, it was simply on the other side of the building, protected by heavy foliage and dense boulders.

  They noticed that the building and surrounding clearing was bathed in a gentle blue light. Miles noticed them looking.

  “It’s UVC lighting,” he continued. “Short-wavelength radiation that’s generally blocked by the ozone layer. Good for killing germs. Bad for cold-blooded reptiles who are, right now, burning up their stored warmth and energy. They tend to avoid the building at night.”

  Cadey was breathing heavily, but remained in control. She was craning her neck, looking around the rocks to the corner of the building.

  “The two buildings are connected?” she asked the team in general. Beale was punching his code into a panel on the left of the heavy door. He ignored her. “What is this?”

  “It’s the other side of Gamma Complex,” Miles finally answered. “Basically, a mirror image of the mirror image. One side for one type of excursion, one side for another type. There’s actually a garage with up-armored vehicles right there.”

  “Oh,” Cadey said. None of the researchers had even commented on the military vehicles that were trampled outside of Building 5. It would make sense that they didn’t bring them along from Anvil Canyon.

  With an audible beep and the heavy thunk of the huge locks disengaging, the door started to swing open.

  The blended team rushed through the door as it was opening. Beale waited to go in last, watching the clearing, listening for any approaching danger. Miles went in second to last and Beale heard the breathy growl of the UC breaking into the clearing. The reptile cringed at the blue UVC light, but kept coming. Beale jumped into the airlock and pulled the giant door closed just in time.

  “Holy fuck,” he said, under his breath, but it still broadcast over the team’s comm channel. “Gonna enjoy putting that bitch in a cage.”

  * *

  The two sides of the building—military and research—were structurally identical, but differed in details. Where the research side had racks of binders, computers, and clipboards full of tasks, the military side had storage cabinets full of weaponry, protective gear, and keys to transport vehicles. Functionally, they were both modeled after the same area at O221.

  Beale and his team hustled the two researchers through the door, into the airlock. They could hear the unclassified predator pounding against the outer door for the entirety of their UVC light and steam bath that served to remove any germs or unwanted pollutants. Like something that will eventually grow into a giant centipede, thought Damon as the final thump from outside vibrated the door.

  “I think he’s had enough of the ultraviolet light,” mused Miles. For her part, Cadey just glared at him in response.

  The automated countdown ended and the inner door opened. The two soldiers, plus Beale, led Damon and Cadey across the floor to stand in the octagonal launching pad that was surrounded by the steel pillars designed to generate the time-bending graviton field. This huge room was a carbon copy of the mission control room in Anvil Canyon, as well as the one on the other side of this building. Damon turned to look at one of the enormous concrete walls…the wall, he assumed by position, separated the two halves of Gamma Complex. He turned back to the wall of windows
that stood opposite. Just like on the other side of the wall, they were given a view of the Cretaceous vista. It was dark, however, and the windows shared certain characteristics with their faceplate HUDs. They were bathed in a green glow—night vision—with several digital readouts on a constant loop. There wasn’t a lot going on outside as the cold-blooded predators had by now used up any stored energy from the day and sought their safe-havens.

  The screen highlighted what looked like a family of rodents emerging from tunnels and climbing a tree. They started jumping from branch to branch. Rugosodon eurasiaticus rolled across the screen as the huge windows began numbering and tracking the beaver-sized rodents.

  Damon turned away from the bank of windows and looked at Cadey.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She simply looked down at her feet as the launching pad started to power up.

  * *

  By the time they arrived back in present-day, there was only one computer specialist in the operations room. In contrast, there were four members of the medical team and four additional security team members.

  And Britta Vragi.

  The two remaining researchers were whisked away to a confinement room—as Britta had planned—through the hidden corridors in the facility. The two members of Beale’s security force took the rest of the day off as the medical staff quickly examined Damon and Cadey. Beale and Britta watched this interaction carefully. The four members of the medical staff finished their examination and left the room.

  The mysterious Room 4 looked like a conference room—if you didn’t look too closely. There was a table, but it was bolted to the floor. There were HVAC vents, but they were sized for residential rather than commercial. There was a door, but it locked from the outside, both with physical security and an electronic keypad. There was no way to alter the temperature, lighting, or even audio settings from inside the room. One entire wall was glass, but not. It was highly tempered, bulletproof, and shatterproof acrylic. The same material that was used for the company’s unbreakable faceplates.

  Cadey and Damon both sat on the table’s surface, looking out through the window. Britta and Beale stood in the narrow hallway, looking back.

  “I’ve not met you personally, but I’m Britta Vragi,” she said. “I’m the operational director of Objekt 221. I’m one of the 12 field vice presidents of Allied Genetics.”

  Her voice was coming over loud and clear on Room 4’s overhead speakers. Both researchers were silent.

  “You’ve presented me with a problem that I’m not sure how to resolve,” she continued, and, then, was silent for a moment. “That’s not entirely true. I know several ways to resolve it, but I’m not sure which strategy is the best. I could have left you on the other side to die. I could have had you killed there and simply left your bodies to decompose. I can have you killed right now. I can send you to a remote facility, locked away from the world, to do data mining until your heads explode. I can bury you in a Siberian prison.”

  No one spoke for a moment.

  “I’m not sure which path is best,” she said. “You will see me as evil, but I’m truly trying to find a compromise that works. You broke the rules. Went off the reservation. Found something that we’ve kept hidden away for a year.”

  She stepped forward, toward the glass wall.

  “You see, all of the work we’re doing is planet-changing. From the time travel, to the observation of live dinosaurs, to the evidence of a super-ancient civilization. Taken individually, any of the three could simply break someone’s mind. Factor in all three simultaneously—plus the groundbreaking work we’ve done in genetics—and no one will know how to react.”

  She clasped her hands behind her back. It was a relaxed, at-ease position and she furrowed her brow to complete the look.

  “We have a very specific timeline to follow to roll-out these various events. And I can’t have you fucking up my calendar. So,” she continued after taking a deep breath. “What am I to do?”

  Neither researcher spoke. Beale, also, remained silent.

  After a few moments, Britta shrugged her shoulders. She reached forward and flipped a toggle switch on the control panel that sat below the lock’s keypad. This shut off the audio feed into the room.

  “Fine,” she said to Beale, before turning and walking away—the sound of her heels against the white tile echoed around the small corridor. Beale followed her. It was only when they were out of sight that Cadey turned to Damon.

  “How is it that only the sound of a person’s voice can give you a headache?” she said, and smiled.

  * *

  Nearly an hour later, Britta sat in her office, flanked by numerous trusted officials from the Anvil Canyon facility. Objekt 221 was the crown jewel of the organization—not only for the obvious operational benefits of the location, but the size of the building itself. As such, Allied Genetics had staffed O221 with the absolute best of the best.

  Britta Vragi, Marcus Osborne, Carter Wittington, Jason Beale, Miles Lofton. They sat around the steel table in the corner of Britta’s office.

  “I wasn’t lying,” Britta said, speaking to Beale without addressing him. “I’m not entirely sure what to do.”

  “It was a disaster and a failed containment when we first encountered UC-0104,” he said. “This time, we lost three researchers and two of my men. My guy’s putting together a plan to capture this thing. Regardless, we’re going to have to go back. If you want to dump ‘em, we’ll dump ‘em.”

  Britta and Carter nodded. Marcus was nonplussed and made a note in his thick, leather-bound day planner. Lofton was silent, but his mouth was agape.

  “What are you saying?” Miles finally said. “We’re going to kill them? Cadey and Damon? Because they found the building? The road? This is ridiculous.”

  “We have rules, Miles,” Marcus said. “In an effort to keep our business properly segmented, we need to parse out intelligence. Building 5 and the surrounding area were classified. We took great pains to block it out of the technology until such a time when it was deemed appropriate to share with the group as a whole.”

  “We must protect our investment,” Carter chimed in. “If any information gets out, it could ruin our operation. Not only here, but in facilities across the planet. Even now, we are under siege by a paramilitary force. This adds a level of confusion that could wreck the positive strides we’ve already made.”

  There was a moment of silence. Britta was thoughtfully making notes on her legal pad. Finally, Miles looked at her across the table.

  “So, we’re now in the business of eliminating employees? Researchers that were trained—hand-picked—to do a job?”

  “Now?” Beale grinned and threw strange emphasis on a word Miles had included in his question.

  Carter smiled and looked down at his own notepad.

  “Look,” Marcus said. “You are a talented investigator, Miles, and a brilliant scientist. So, the cutthroat nature of the business shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise. Fortunes are gained and lost over a mistimed press release. Careers are broken over a heated email exchange. It is not uncommon for people to be taken out back and roughed up. It is less common, but not a never occurrence, that someone has lost their life. To protect a multi-billion dollar organization.”

  “If you drive like an asshole in Los Angeles, you’re likely to get killed for far less,” Beale offered.

  “This is ridiculous,” Miles said again, standing. “I can’t believe you’re all being so cavalier about this. We’re discussing the termination of an employee—in the most literal sense possible. I can’t be a part of this.”

  He stood up from the table and left the meeting.

  The four people left at the table sat in silence for a handful of seconds. They shared glances. Marcus looked up from his notes.

  “He’s one of our best. Possibly the singular best.”

  “He lacks manners,” Carter said.

  Britta nodded.

  “Perhaps he needs
a year of data entry at the Mountain to regain some perspective,” Marcus said.

  Britta, still silent, nodded at Beale.

  Beale stood and left the room.

  * *

  Cadey and Damon had moved to the far corner of the heavily reinforced conference room. They sat in a corner that was opposite both the glass wall and the locked door. There was nothing in the conference room save for the large table and the eight industrial-grade chairs. There were no guards stationed at the door, but they knew they were not able to escape. They were, unfortunately, at the mercy of Britta Vragi and her decision.

  “This sucks,” Damon said.

  “That might be the understatement of the century,” Cadey said.

  They sat on the floor. Damon with his legs splayed out. Cadey with her feet flat on the floor. She was hugging the tops of her knees, chin resting on her arms. Damon shrugged.

  “Have you guys had anything like this before?” he asked.

  Cadey was silent for a moment and then shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “No. I don’t think so. I’ve heard about a couple people who have died in the last few years. Couple heart attacks. One guy committed suicide. Nothing too crazy, I suppose.”

  Damon grunted.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I suppose we’ve had the same thing at Precision. One guy died in a car accident a couple years ago. I think a lady had cancer.”

  They were silent for a few breaths.

  “Fuck,” Cadey said after a moment. She shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She paused. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”

  She lifted her head and looked around the room for the tenth time during their captivity. Damon shook his head.

  “The only weakness I see, possibly, is the electrical panel,” he said. “If we could take it off using tools we don’t have and short out the mechanism using tools we don’t have, we might be able to disengage the lock.”