Slivers of light appear on the horizon as the sun peeks over the mountains to the east. In a moment, the dark water takes on a pink glow. Jericho rigs his rope around a metal stanchion barely visible under the rising water and climbs over the lip and into the silo. As the water cascades over him, he lowers himself into the opening. Looking down, he sees the nose cone of the Peacekeeper directly below him. He remembers dangling from a line, much like this, scrubbing the walls of the silo. He remembers many other things, too, the beauty of a fall day in the mountains, the fallen leaves crunching underfoot, his mother’s sour apple pie, a white-tailed buck drinking from a cool stream. He remembers his father and brother and their endless card games on the front porch. And now, with his butt hanging over the nose cone that contains ten nuclear warheads, he says a brief prayer aloud, “Lord, I’ve always believed in you, though sometimes, it may seem like I forgot. I’ve believed you made the mountains and the rivers and the yellow tulips in the Spring. I know you’ve got a lot to worry about, but if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d surely appreciate it if you didn’t let them launch that missile just now.”
In the launch control capsule, David watches the security monitors. One camera at the elevator housing catches Ezekiel’s heroics, holding off the first of the forces of Satan. David knows he has little time. The troops will be down the elevator shaft in minutes. There are still commandos in the tunnel and outside the capsule. He yells into a mike. “Everyone with a weapon to the elevator shaft!”
His men tromp from the silo through the underground tunnel and take up positions on the catwalk outside the elevator door. The first of the Special Forces will be cut down when they emerge from the elevator. There will be more, though, David knows. Too many. On another security monitor, he sees a waterfall surging into the silo. He hits a button and speaks again into the mike, “Make haste, James.”
In the drainage sump just outside the capsule, James shines a flashlight into the water. He speaks into his headset, “The Bible advises us to ‘run with patience the race before us.’”
“Screw the Bible! Find the key!”
There is nothing David can do. He looks at the key still in his slot, then shoots a look at the deputy’s slot, as if miraculously the other key might appear there. No miracles today. Frustrated and angry, he gets out of the flight chair, turns around and approaches Susan. Rachel watches over her with a rifle. David leans down and grabs Susan’s cheek, pinching her jaw muscles hard. “And you, Dr. Burns, are the biggest fool of all. Bigger even than the sergeant who cares so much for you.”
He releases his grip and she just stares at him defiantly, not saying a word.
“Thou could have shared my throne,” he says to her.
Glaring back. Unafraid. “I wouldn’t even drinketh from the same cup.”
Ezekiel’s —60 jams, just for a moment. Which is long enough.
The troops pour onto the security bridge, firing M-16’s from their hips. Ezekiel is struck more than thirty times in the chest, a cluster of wounds opening a gaping hole the size of a basketball. Another burst of direct hits to the head and neck nearly decapitate him. His body does a macabre dance backward into the elevator door, a red smear left behind as he crumples to the metal floor.
The troops rush across the bridge, and a mustachioed lieutenant wearing a sidearm and carrying a briefcase approaches the keyboard at the elevator housing. He pulls a card from the briefcase, studies it a moment, then enters the PAL code. The heavy door slowly opens, and the lieutenant jams a detonator into a wad of Semtex, tosses it into the empty elevator, hits the down button and steps back. “Fire in the hole!” he yells at his men.
As the soldiers back away from the opening, sporadic gunfire comes from the surrounding woods, the remaining commandos gamely fighting on. The Army, though, now controls the bridge, the security building, the barracks, and the elevator housing.
In the capsule, David watches a monitor as a mechanical voice intones, “Elevator Access Granted.” David yells into a mike: “They’re coming! Send them straight to hell!”
At the foot of the elevator shaft, Gabriel commands half a dozen commandos. They know their friends above ground have been annihilated. They know they will die, too. First, though, they will dispense punishment to the minions of Satan’s army. “Hold your fire until my order!” Gabriel commands, listening to the elevator descend.
The elevator clunks to a stop, and the door slowly opens. Gabriel’s men obey, peering suspiciously into the compartment which appears empty… until Gabriel sees something on the floor. The Semtex.
Oh shit.
Oh holy shit.
The sound of the explosion is magnified by the close quarters, and the reverberations from the rocky cavern produce an ear-shattering, disorienting echo. Blood streams from both of Gabriel’s ears, and a soaring cloud of dust fills his nostrils. His men stagger backward into the twisted railing of the catwalk. Knowing they cannot hear him, Gabriel simply motions for them to get into kneeling position, rifles pointed at the gaping opening of what had been the elevator car.
At the top of the elevator shaft, the soldiers push a prisoner to the lieutenant. The commando, wearing a black hood, stumbles and is held up by a sergeant who is bleeding from a bayonet wound to the shoulder. “He’s the only one who surrendered, sir,” the sergeant says.
“What’s your name, jerkoff?” the lieutenant says, yanking off the black hood.
“Danny Price, but they call me Daniel.” It is the pudgy, peach fuzzy commando who let Jericho escape.
“How would you like to help your Uncle Sam, Danny boy?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yeah, you can help dead or help alive.” The lieutenant nods, and his men begin stripping off Daniel’s camouflage garb. Quickly, they re-dress him in Army Ranger combat fatigues. “Do you know the Rangers’ creed, Danny boy?”
A nervous shake of the head, no.
“‘Never shall I fail my comrades.’”
“You’re a Ranger now, Danny. And I’m sure you won’t let us down.” They slip him into a metal harness, thread a black rope through the a metal clip and gag him. “Of course, we’re going to let you down.” The lieutenant nods, and two soldiers push Daniel into the shaft. The soldiers let out the rope, and Daniel disappears into the darkness below.
“Let’s see if this baby’s still hot,” the lieutenant says.
The descent takes only thirty seconds, the soldiers not particularly concerned about their bait bouncing off the walls or being cut up as he’s lowered through the blown roof of the elevator. A moment later, Daniel is dangling in the opening of what had been the elevator door.
Gunfire from Gabriel’s men virtually cuts him in two.
At the top of the shaft, the lieutenant grimaces. “Yep, the baby’s still hot.” He speaks into a radio transmitter. “This is Beta. Come in Alpha. We got a problem here.”
BOOK SEVEN
END GAME