“I can be objective, but not a patsy,” Garibaldi said. “If you can’t convince me about whatever it is you’re doing here, you’ll never convince the public at large.”
Pulaski looked as if he had found a sour pickle inside his cheese Danish. “We aren’t ready to reveal this project to the public. That’s why you signed all those security forms.”
Interrupting the conversation, the conference room door opened, and two men entered, one in a dark blue sport jacket and a white shirt open at the collar, the other dressed in Air Force battle fatigues with silver eagles on either lapel. Red access cards hung around their necks.
Adonia caught her breath as she recognized them both. Rob Harris was a thin, mid-sixtyish African American with smoky gray hair and a bland expression. Early in her career she had worked with him for two years at Oakridge National Laboratory in Tennessee.
But her attention was immediately drawn to the handsome, smiling colonel, with his close-cropped sandy-brown hair and green-blue eyes. Ever since their bittersweet parting, she had spoken to Shawn Whalen only on the phone, and she certainly hadn’t expected to see him here. Their high-powered jobs had separated them, which made a long-distance relationship unsatisfying and impractical. Shawn had gone to Washington to work as the President’s military aide and special adviser. If he was here for this meeting, then Hydra Mountain was indeed an important project.
Spotting her, Shawn broke into a broad smile, but he turned his formal attention to the group, all business. Clasping his hands behind his back, he said, “Senator, Madam Undersecretary, Mr. Assistant Secretary, Ms. Rojas, and Dr. Garibaldi — on behalf of the President of the United States, let me welcome you to Hydra Mountain. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m Colonel Shawn Whalen, the President’s military aide. This is Rob Harris, site manager for the Mountain.”
Garibaldi looked intrigued and suspicious. “I read up on Hydra Mountain before coming here. Why does a decommissioned Cold War military facility need a site manager?”
Van Dyckman interjected, “Because we’ve found a viable new use for this complex.”
When Rob Harris spoke, his voice was monotone, even plodding. “That’s why you’re all here for this vital review. Sorry for the inconvenience, but Senator Pulaski is on a time crunch to conduct his classified oversight hearing later this week.”
“The Senator should look at his calendar ahead of time and plan better,” Garibaldi muttered. “A government meeting on a Sunday is a little unusual.”
Harris seemed to know Garibaldi. “There’s a purpose to it, Simon. I arranged for us to meet on a Sunday morning so as not to interfere with normal weekday operations. Except for one delivery this morning, we have the facility to ourselves. I’ve canceled today’s shift, and we only have a skeleton crew in the operations center.”
Harris obviously knew Victoria Doyle as well. He had worked in the nuclear industry for so long, Adonia realized, he’d probably interacted with all the currently influential people at some point in his career. “Madam Undersecretary, it’s been a few years since you’ve been here in person, and things have changed… quite radically. I specifically requested your presence because I think you have a unique perspective on our operations.”
“I was wondering why I was asked to participate,” Doyle said. “Stanley certainly didn’t request my presence.”
“We’re at the one-year point for operations,” Senator Pulaski explained with a hint of a drawl. “These types of programs are required to be periodically reviewed to continue operations, but we can take care of this quickly, get your sign-off, and you can fly back home.” He seemed to think the inspection was a perfunctory activity.
“Hydra Mountain really is an impressive operation. You’ll see soon enough,” van Dyckman interjected. “What we’ve accomplished here in a relatively short time—”
“You’ve been operating for twelve months without any public knowledge?” Garibaldi asked. “Sanergy keeps close tabs on nuclear ops. Don’t expect me just to give you a rubber stamp. What exactly is going on inside this mountain?”
Shawn broke in, his voice calm and reassuring. “And we are eager to show you, as soon as we go into the next SCIF. Before we enter the Mountain, does anyone have electronics on them — cell phones, iPads, smart watches, pagers? Anything at all that transmits radiofrequency energy?” He held up a small blue zippered bag to accept any wayward devices. “Anyone? Anything? We’re about to enter a very sensitive area.”
Van Dyckman said, “We took care of all that before entering the admin building, Colonel.”
Senator Pulaski let out an impatient sigh. “I have to stay in touch with Washington, coordinate with my staff. Senate business doesn’t stop on weekends, and this isn’t the only classified program I’m responsible for, you know.” He looked from Shawn to Harris. “Once we’re inside, you’ll make phones available at regular intervals? So we can conduct our business?”
Though the Senator was too sententious for her tastes, Adonia sympathized with his concerns. “I’ll need to call my Granite Bay staff before the day is out, as well. We’re in the middle of major construction.”
“We know you’re all very busy,” van Dyckman said. “We wouldn’t have asked you to join us for this review if you weren’t at the top of your respective fields. We’ll try to make arrangements.”
When no one offered up any phones or electronics, Shawn stuffed the bag in the thigh pocket of his fatigues. “Very well. Everyone follow me, please.” He led the way out of the conference room to the narrow hall and the large vault door against the rock wall.
The outside wind shook the admin building’s flimsy corrugated wall as the group gathered at the door. “Once we’re inside the Mountain, we’ll be able to get into the specifics of our operations,” Shawn said.
Van Dyckman was barely able to contain his excitement. “A final reminder about those forms you signed, restricting your rights about revealing what’s going on inside.” He almost sounded smug. “It’s a special-access area and is the most classified thing you are ever likely to see.”
Garibaldi stepped toward the vault door. “This had better be good if I signed away my freedom.”
Harris swiped the card hanging from his neck, keyed in a code, and pressed his palm against a screen. Once his access was approved, Adonia heard an audible click as the thick metal door swung open to reveal well-lit tunnels carved into the living rock. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hydra Mountain.”
7
As Adonia followed Undersecretary Doyle through the vault door and inside the mountain facility, she glanced again at Shawn, tossing silent questions at him. He gave her a quick smile as she passed, and mouthed Later, but maintained a professional demeanor. He had always considered it a matter of pride never to let anyone get a hint of their relationship, though he’d certainly been warm and loving in private. She still didn’t have any answers about Hydra Mountain, but she relaxed a little, reassured by Shawn’s involvement.
Stepping to one side, he gestured the Senator, Garibaldi, and van Dyckman through the doorway, then brought up the rear. Once the group had entered the cool dustiness of the tunnels, he closed the pedestrian vault door behind them and twirled the combination, locking them in.
“Buried under a mountain,” Adonia muttered to no one in particular.
As her eyes adjusted, she felt a growing sense of wonder, realizing the immensity of this place. The group stood at the left-hand side of an arched chamber fifty feet high and three times as deep, with an enormous tunnel feeding in from the left and right. The giant chamber carved into the granite was large enough to house a three-story building. Though its floor was level concrete, the walls were rough, raw rock, with some patches covered by metal mesh to hold back loose debris. The air smelled damp.