“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
Barnwell glared at him. “Because there are significant risks. To be effective, it will require twice the maximum dose.”
“And?”
“At that dosage, it could cause microlesions.”
“How dangerous, Hob?”
“They’re lesions on the brain,” Barnwell growled. “As a general rule, lesions on the brain are bad. That’s not what worries me.”
The look on his old friend’s face made Smith’s stomach lurch. “There’s something worse?”
“It can cause brain swelling. In very high doses, it may cause bleeding. You could stroke out, and there’s not a thing I could do to stop it. The problem is, we just don’t understand enough about Alzheimer’s.”
“I’ll take it,” Smith said. “Anything that can help me reunite Nancy and Alex is worth the risk.”
“It’s not just this new drug,” Barnwell said. “It’s the other experimental drugs. It’s the electrical stimulation from the brain implant. None of it is well tested, and certainly not together. You’re risking everything.”
“It’s not much of a risk,” Smith said. “How many months do I have left? I’d rather live a week as myself than a year as a drooling idiot.”
“You might not even make it a week.”
“It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got to try.”
Barnwell’s face reddened. “I’m sworn to do no harm.”
“Have you considered what Nancy might do after I’m gone?”
“I think…”
“Yes?”
Barnwell leaned back in his chair. “You may have a point.” He shook his head as his anger evaporated. “Growing old is a helluva thing. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
Chapter Four
Nancy was waiting at the end of the airstrip. “What happened in Switzerland?”
Eric sighed. He had just arrived at Area 51 and was still mulling over the encounter with the Bonesman in Cincinnati. The sky was a velvety black punctured by a million pinpricks of light, and it never failed to take his breath away. “Did you ever notice the view here?”
Nancy started the Humvee and gunned the engine, throwing him against his seat as they tore off across the desert floor. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s no light pollution out here. It’s what our ancestors must have seen when they looked up at the night sky.”
Nancy turned to stare at him. Without looking, she pressed her thumbprint against the dashboard reader. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It doesn’t,” he said. The desert floor in front of them rose, allowing entrance to the tunnel that led to the underground base. “I just wanted to distract you long enough to enjoy the ride.”
The entrance closed behind them, and they practically flew down the tunnel. The overhead lights stretched out before them like a string of Christmas bulbs. Soon they came to the underground chamber, where she swung the Humvee around, pointing it back toward the entrance, and killed the engine. “I know Clark contacted you.”
“Yes,” Eric admitted. “I’ve been briefed.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going back to my quarters and get changed,” Eric said, climbing out of the Humvee. “After that, I’m going to my office.”
As he checked in with the two armed guards at the checkpoint, he inspected Nancy. She wore workout clothes, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
“You didn’t have to fetch me,” he said.
“I needed the distraction,” she said.
Eric nodded to the guard who had cleared them and took his seat on the first electric cart near the massive door.
Nancy took the wheel of the cart and they whizzed down the tunnel. The military, in conjunction with the CIA, had bored out large parts of the mountains at Area 51 during the Cold War using nuclear-tipped boring machines. The larger caverns had been blasted out, making room for hangars that opened to the desert floor and allowed the concealment of stolen enemy aircraft.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, much of the base had been mothballed. The aboveground portion focused on the remaining stealth programs and advanced drone technology. After Smith reactivated the underground portion, the population had ballooned to almost one thousand soldiers, scientists, and lab technicians.
Men and women in camo uniforms and lab coats now roamed the halls. Everyone jumped out of the way when they saw the cart heading their way and gave quick nods of acknowledgment to Eric.
Nancy stopped the cart at the door that led to the dormitories and followed Eric to his quarters. He placed his palm on the palm plate, and when the door swished open, he stepped between the kitchenette to his left and the living room to his right.
There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Nancy had followed him inside. “I’m sorry, was there something else?”
“John hasn’t checked in. He’s hurt.”
“Or dead,” Eric said.
“Do you believe that?”
“Not really. John’s tough. And I’m not just talking physically. He’ll find a way to get back to Deion and Val.” He kicked off his shoes and made a beeline for the living area, where he collapsed on the couch.
“You know something.”
“I spoke with Karen just before I landed. The Implant pinged home. John’s in the Triemli Hospital.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “What’s his condition?”
“No idea. I just know that he’ll find a way. He always has.”
“You’re not sending Deion to retrieve him?”
He sat on the couch, leaning back against the soft fabric and stretching his legs. “Part of being the director is learning to trust people. Everyone knows what’s at stake.”
“But John—”
“John will do his best, just like he’s always done. Deion will, too.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “Do I need to remind you that John’s a monster?”
“He’s a good soldier. Whatever he was in the past, we remade him. He’ll find his way home.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“He’s not the man we flew back from Guantánamo. I’m surprised you don’t have faith in him.”
Her eyes roamed around at the various M1911 parts strewn about his quarters. “Elliot says the memory replacement can’t fail, but I have my doubts.”
He wanted to tell her that the memory replacement had already failed.
Admitting that would open the door for questions, like how long have I known and why didn’t I have him terminated.
“Stop worrying,” he said. “Everything is under control.”
Nancy looked like she wanted to argue, but she took a deep breath and said, “Have you seen Karen lately?”
“Before I left,” Eric said. “She briefed me on emerging threats.”
“I meant, have you seen her lately?”
Karen Kryzowski had an open marriage with her husband, Brad, an Army Ranger. The OTM’s long-standing policy of sexual relations without strings kept members from going stir-crazy while living a mile below a mountain.
Eric had engaged in numerous encounters with Karen in the past, but they had not been together for months. “No,” he said. “That’s over.”
Nancy frowned. “I’m not—”
“Acting like a jealous lover? We’ve only had coffee, Nancy. We’re not… involved. Not yet, at least.”
“This is coming out wrong,” Nancy said. She worked her hands into fists before relaxing them. “Every time I try to speak about my emotions, it…”
“Why don’t you say what you feel? Don’t think, just speak.”
She took a deep breath. “I like Karen. I was angry when you were with her because I wanted to be with you. But, if she makes you happy, then you should seek her company.”