They started down the wide ramp toward level 2.
No more than a minute later, Fisher signaled a halt, advanced, leaned over the railing, then returned and filled them in.
"Two guards stationed at the entrance to the ramp below. They've got AKs. No night vision that I could see."
So they had two guys down on level 3, and Hansen told the others that where there were two, there were no doubt more. Fisher agreed. They opted to check level 2 before contending with those guys below.
NOBORUhad been charged with clearing the ballistics area of level 2. The test facility was already sending chills up and down his spine. It seemed that back during the Cold War the Russians knew no bounds when it came to discovery and experimentation. He was almost afraid of what they'd find next.
And, in fact, what he found next left him standing there like a proverbial deer in the headlights.
Slowly he slid up his goggles, flipped on his flashlight, and gazed up into the massive, man-made cavern that had been carved into the rock and earth. The place was at least two football fields across and lined with engine-test scaffolding that looked like something from Cape Canaveral. Four massive steel bays still held rocket motors, their colossal nozzles sitting before giant, concrete, sewerlike pipes whose innards were blackened. The pipes were no doubt some kind of exhaust system to flush the motor fumes and gases out of the test zone.
Noboru doused his light, refit his goggles, then charged down the row of scaffolding to make a perimeter search. He reached the zone between the second and third nozzles, rushed past a wall lost in deep shadow, then did a double take. He froze, looked back, and started toward the wall, which in silhouette seemed to be part of a pyramid. He passed several thick posts that had partially blocked his view, and then he saw it.
VALENTINAslowly opened the first locker and found nothing but coveralls and a moth-eaten parka. She didn't bother opening any of the others. The entire locker area appeared as though it hadn't been touched for years.
She came back out into the corridor, and for a moment, she thought she saw someone at the far end of the hall. She dropped to her knees, and did, in fact, see a shadow shift slightly to the right.
But then it was gone. She blinked. Had she really seen it?
A call came in from Fisher. He wanted everyone down in ballistics.
HANSENgasped at the twenty-eight Anvil cases ranging from the size of small footlockers to that of bedroom furniture. They looked exactly like the case he'd seen back in Korfovka and were secured by the same type of padlock they'd found on the hut above.
Gillespie remarked that this couldn't be the entire arsenal. Fisher estimated it to be about a third, so the rest was elsewhere inside the facility or, perhaps, not in Russia at all. Valentina was concerned about Fisher's Ajax nanobots being able to get inside the cases to tag the weapons. He assured her that they needed a gap that was only a fraction of a hair's width and was certain they'd penetrate.
Fisher ordered them back, then drew one of Noboru's modified paintball guns and fired at the ceiling. The dart bounced off the rock, hit one of the Anvil cases, then rolled to a stop.
Hansen wanted to say, "That's it?"but just stood there, watching. He expected something far more dramatic.
Noboru had already initiated an uplink to the bots and glanced up at Fisher. "Nothing yet."
"What if there's no power for them to gravitate to?" asked Hansen.
Fisher explained that just about every weapon or system on the inventory list was equipped with some form of EPROM, or erasable programmable read-only memory, a low-power battery for housekeeping functions like date, time, and user settings. If the item didn't have an EPROM, then it wasn't one of the higher-end items and losing it was no disaster.
Within five minutes, Noboru was reading multiple pings from inside the cases. He grinned. "I'd say our first live-fire exercise is a success."
Before they left the area, in search of more of the arsenal, Gillespie pointed out a section of extra venting between the blast funnels and the wall. To Hansen, the gap at his feet resembled a bottomless pit, and his light faded before it could pick out any floor below. The vent probably extended all the way down to level 4.
VALENTINAtook no pleasure in killing the guard, and she sensed that Noboru felt the same. She did, however, take great pleasure in working with Nathan, and she knew once the mission was over she would succumb to her feelings and ask to see him again . . . on a personal level.
She thought about this, even as she held her blade in a reverse grip and approached the guard.
Her hand rose to the man's mouth at exactly the same time Noboru's did for his guard.
Holding her breath, she drove her blade down into the guard's neck to make a perfect kill shot to the spinal cord. The slash to the throat or knife thrust to the heart that instantly kills someone is the stuff of Hollywood inaccuracy. Most knife fighters would tell you, if you don't get a kill shot to the spinal cord, your victim is going to stay alive for a while, and things will get very, very sloppy. Slashing the jugular was one of the last things you wanted to do. Sever that spinal cord and he's dead, Jim. Instantly dead.
Valentina and Noboru dragged the bodies up to the top of the ramp, where Hansen and Gillespie would take over and stash them in the medical area.
NOBORUtook point, leading the way down into level 3. He headed off into the ballistics zone once more and found yet another stack of Anvil cases set up on tables within an electronics repair room adjacent to another, though smaller, rotor motor testing facility.
Now, this was more like it. This resembled an auction site. While the items weren't fully prepared, they were being arranged for display. Noboru was glad he'd packed the second paintball gun. He fired a round, waited, and smiled once he got back the pings he needed. He rallied with the rest back at Fisher's location near the main ramp and reported his find.
"Two down, one to go," said Fisher.
LEVEL3 of the medical section sent a shudder through Hansen. He was crouched near the main doorway, staring past the half-open door, into an operating area that had been converted into a barracks. He counted about twenty beds . . . all occupied. They were all men, mostly nondescript, a few European looking and a few markedly Middle Eastern.
He returned to Fisher, his cheeks warm, heart pounding, and reported what he'd seen.
Fisher agreed that those were probably some of, if not all, the attendees, at least those who'd been able to work around the weather conditions. More could be coming. Many more.
But they all agreed that the big fish was most certainly not among them. Who was the man behind the auction? That was the burning question Hansen hoped they could answer before leaving the facility.
"We've got one more level to check," said Fisher. With any luck, he added, they'd be back in Severobaikalsk for breakfast.