It was pitch black out—no moon tonight—and freezing cold. Thank God for extra layers and thick ski masks. The cold wasn’t keeping the wildlife indoors, though. Skunks, deer, elk, coyotes, rabbits, and raccoons cut across the road in front of the rescuers, and every one they saw freaked them out a little. It took them almost two hours to cover the seven miles to the Stanley Hotel, and when they arrived it, too, was a snow-covered pile of burnt rubble. The white, castle-like, Georgian-style structure used to tower above Estes Park. It had a well-documented history as the area’s “haunted house” with a “King” suite in room 217—the inspiration for Steven King’s novel The Shining—several other “ghost suites,” and even its own on-site psychic, Madame Vera.
They circled the rubble, careful to avoid the bright lights illuminating the main entrance, and searched in the darkness for any kind of side entry to get them to the lower level. It was a nearly impossible quest in these blizzard conditions. After about an hour of searching and poking around in the deep snow, Blake stumbled upon a pile of bricks with a sizeable gap in it. The pile turned out to be a staircase, but excavating it was a tedious process. The deeper they dug the tighter the gap became and the rubble became more and more unstable. Knowing this may be their only way in they took their time carefully removing bricks and boards out of the stairwell until they could all safely squeeze through. They’d already lost another hour. It was almost 2:30 a.m.
When they reached the bottom level, Danny and Cameron pulled out their military flashlights, and the other two followed them through the lower floor of the building, which was amazingly intact. The walls were charred, but the structure was almost totally made of concrete and had held up well in the blazing fires. Hayley found the supply closet, after another half-hour of searching, and whistled for them to join her.
It was freezing cold on the lower level, and they were afraid of what they were going to find below the closet floor. It didn’t seem likely the little girl could have survived the night in this place. There were four shelving units in the storage closet, and they tried to move them, but not a single one would budge. They appeared to be anchored into the wall.
A closer inspection of the cabinets revealed them to be clothes lockers of some sort with nameplates of famous authors on each door. Hayley again figured out the puzzle. Opening the door with a nameplate for C. S. Lewis—the only non-American—she moved the uniforms out of the way, revealing a panel with a digital keypad. She typed in the letters N-A-R-N-I-A, and there was an audible click. Who said you don’t learn anything useful in school? She was then able to slide the back panel of the wardrobe aside. They found a hole in the wall behind it with a ladder going down into the floor.
Hayley pulled off her ski mask so she could see better and climbed down the ladder first. The others waited for her to tell them what was down there, but she didn’t respond to their questions, so Cameron climbed down next. Danny was standing watch at the door, but he kept looking back to see what was going on. He motioned, irritated, for Blake to go tell Cameron and Hayley to hurry up. Blake flipped his mask up and climbed down the ladder. A few minutes later Danny was beyond worried. How big was that room? Could they not find the girl? Why hadn’t any of them come back up? Maybe there were more tunnels under there. With three of them down there and no one replying, he knew something was wrong. But the vice president had specifically told him to come get her here.
Danny’s options were limited. Dropping a stun grenade in the hole could do major damage to everyone down there. He couldn’t start shooting either, nor could he leave them there. He called down, but no one answered, so he stepped into the closet and peered into the dark hole. Even with his night vision goggles on he couldn’t see anything. Reluctantly, he too took off his facemask and descended the ladder. A light suddenly came on, momentarily blinding him. He flipped his night vision off quickly, but too late. He was introduced to the cold steel of a gun barrel against the back of his head. Crap.
FIFTY-FOUR: “Guard Down”
Following orders from the voice behind him, Danny stood still while he was disarmed, and his eyes took in the room. There were four men in suits—a little out of place in this setting—all armed and none wearing a smile. A girl was asleep in a bed in the corner next to a generator that powered a heater of some sort, a low-voltage light, and a wall covered with about twenty monitors. Only two screens were on. One camera showed the room above them, and the other was in the hallway outside the storage closet. It seemed possible they were the only two still operational, which would explain why all the others were off.
Adjacent to the monitor wall was a large control panel covered with all kinds of stickers. Danny couldn’t read what the stickers said, but this was probably the room that made the Stanley Hotel “haunted,” and it also seemed to serve as some form of security bunker.
The man with the gun to Danny’s head finally addressed them. “You are clearly Americans, so we don’t want to kill you. But you damn well better have a code if you’re down here.” The code.
“A76845B940,” Danny recited from memory as Hayley, Blake and Cameron looked at him quizzically.
“Are you sure?” The man behind him asked.
“If that’s wrong, you can check my forearm,” Danny answered through gritted teeth. “It’s on there too.”
The man lowered his gun. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “Protocol. You were right the first time.”
It all made sense to Danny now, and he was glad he had a good memory. “No worries. You guys must be Secret Service?” he asked as the man handed him back his guns. Why didn’t the VP tell him about these guys?
The other man nodded, shaking Danny’s hand and introducing himself as Agent Adams. “We were assigned to the vice president but…”
“But what?”
“Allow me to speak freely here, sir,” he asked, and Danny nodded, sure he was outranked anyway. “The bastard tricked us. He was under direct orders not to go after his daughters, which you evidently know he did.” Clearly Adams was more than a little upset, but then their guardian responsibility had been huge. “He is the last known government official in America—unofficially the new president. He has the codes to access NORAD, and is the only American outside of Hawaii who knows how to drop the island’s defensive shield. We know Air Force One went down north of Maine, over Prince Edward Island, with the President on Board. If he’s dead, as we suspect he is, then the enemy knows how valuable Vice President Moore is. They know the info he has. Orders from NORAD were specifically to keep him under lock and key. I’m sure now you can understand why.”
“But—” Cameron spoke up as he and the other two were given their weapons back.
“He snuck out the back entrance.” Another agent, Walker, cut him off, anticipating his question.
“Snuck?” Danny asked. “And what shield are you referring to?”
“Moore is an ex-Marine from the Special Operations Command group,” Adams explained. “He was up the tunnel with Agent Smith and put him in a chokehold until he passed out. The guy is one tough SOB. You met him. I’m sure you could tell.”