I laughed. “Didn’t make sense otherwise?”
“I mean… I don’t know… not really.” Twix smiled. “It’s a lot of work for a room full of rope and guns.”
“And an ATV.” Blake playfully shoved Twix.
“Oh yeah, I forgot the ATV.”
“You said eight safe houses?” Royce asked, ignoring the conversational detour.
“Yes, though I believe there are ten if you count this, the White House, and NORAD.”
“So where are the other seven, Danny?” Deacon asked.
“I haven’t looked up specifics, but I can tell you their names from the book—Wrigley, Anaheim, Mackinaw, Alcatraz, St. Louis, Orlando, and Brooklyn.”
“Do you think they have this kind of stuff in those places too?” Keena gestured at all the artifacts. “Or people—other survivors?”
“People? Maybe.” I shrugged. “But I think this is essentially the treasure chest. This entire wing was built for presidents. None of them used it, but it was always going to be the safe house—the Camp David—for presidents when they came west on vacation. The government was in the process of moving all its defense systems and the rest of our national treasures here to the Hexagon before the attacks.”
It made sense.
Clearly there weren’t many people who knew about these rooms—these bunkers—but the vice president had known, so there were probably others who knew. Was it possible the general at NORAD knew about the vault in this bunker? Was it possible he knew about the other bunkers? There was something out of place with this entire NORAD scenario. I was convinced we were missing something critical—that we didn’t have all the relevant information on this end.
Danny had also found a map of Area 52 and detailed descriptions of its operational capabilities in the Elephant Box, and he kept those documents in a wall safe at the tree house—concealed by a secret panel behind his headboard. When everyone else who had stayed on Redemption went down to greet the first plane coming back from Oahu, one person stayed behind, snuck into Danny’s room, and moved the bed. It had taken several hours of searching the room, over many limited opportunities, to even find the safe. But now, having finally found the safe a few days earlier—and having cleaned the keypad then—the person shone a blue light across the keys, revealing prints on the numbers that had last been touched. After three failed attempts, the safe clicked open on the fourth. The only item of interest in there was one specific book.
The book contained far more than just the information on Area 52 and the Stairway to Heaven. It had access codes for the Cheyenne Mountain bunker and launch codes for all its missiles, as well as the location of every other highly classified government safe house in the country. It had scheduled password changes for every military room and facility in Hawaii, as well as the codes needed for making security badges and connecting to communication grids off the island. Whoever had this book could pretty much keep everyone here safe or—just as easily—they could put everyone on the planet in jeopardy. There was more to be discovered in the remaining pages, but voices were approaching the tree house. Carefully replacing the book in the safe and sliding the panel and bed back in place, the person quietly turned to leave the dark room but stopped short at the sight of a little girl standing in the light of the doorway.
“Reagan, what are you doing?” Abbey asked.
Shit.
SEVEN – Eighty-Three Days
There was one guard Eddie didn’t hate. Eddie only saw him on Sundays. For months he’d tried to get the guard to talk to him, to answer a question¸ to say anything at all, but he never did. A little over a week ago Eddie had learned why. As the guard brought him toilet paper and a bar of soap last Sunday, he stopped at the base of the stairs and pointed up at the ceiling then quickly at his eye. Then he walked over to the bars and slid the supplies through. Eddie got the message. Someone was watching them. Someone was watching him!
The camera was well hidden, and Eddie knew better than to look for it. He was certain he wasn’t supposed to know it was there, and he figured the guard would get in trouble if they ever realized he’d revealed its presence. But that raised even more questions in his mind. Where were they watching him from? And who exactly was watching him? What was all this about? And why had the guard told him about the camera, likely risking his own life? Eddie easily could have let it drive him crazy. Instead, he reasoned there was something he hadn’t yet figured out. That fueled him. He needed to stay mentally sharp, not starve himself or get himself killed another way. He needed this curiosity to rejuvenate him. Eddie began working out again—sit-ups, push-ups, chin-ups. If the people watching him were hoping to watch him crumble, Eddie wanted them to get frustrated. Eddie wanted them to get angry.
Apparently it worked. Here they were, only ten days later, and for the first time someone was coming to visit him. Eddie heard the helicopter whir in and land hard on the roof of the fort directly over his head. Dirt and chunks of rock dropped onto his floor from the ceiling. Eddie was certain the visitor would be General Roja, but he was wrong. A half dozen armed soldiers came down and opened his cell. A few minutes later the Libyan commander strode into his cell, followed by another half dozen soldiers, including the guard he didn’t hate.
Commander Boli kept his distance, pacing a full circle around Eddie. “Do you know why I’m here?”
Eddie didn’t reply, which clearly irritated the commander. There was a time Eddie would have considered this man his friend.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
Eddie still didn’t answer, but this time he took a nightstick to the back for his silent defiance. Eddie grimaced but stood his ground. He was tempted to take the nightstick from the fool who had hit him and shove it through his eye, but he took a deep breath and stared down the commander instead.
“Fine. You don’t want to talk to me. Chain him up.” Four guards jumped at his command and chained Eddie to the pole in the middle of his cell. “Bring her in.” Commander Boli snapped his fingers at a man standing in the dark hallway.
Eddie swallowed hard as two more soldiers escorted his wife, Mali, into his cell. She looked terrified. “What is she doing here?”
The commander smiled. “I thought you would be happy to see her.”
Eddie was relieved to see she was alive, but he knew her presence here wasn’t good. Eddie suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. “What do you want from me?” he gasped. “Please don’t—”
“You know exactly what I want. I have been patient enough. Too patient. It’s time you pay me for my time.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Eddie twisted against his chains. “What? What am I supposed to do? What are you waiting for?”
Eddie’s questions went unanswered. The commander snapped his fingers again at one of the soldiers and held up two fingers. A soldier stepped up and punched Mali hard in the stomach. She grunted and doubled over, and the soldier punched her again—this time in the face. The force of the blow spun her around, blood and saliva flying from her mouth. She dropped to the floor. Eddie screamed at the first punch and lunged against his chains at the second, cursing the soldier. Another soldier beat him with a nightstick until the commander waved him off.
“You touch her again and I’ll kill you!”
“Unlikely.” Boli sneered at him. He pointed at yet another soldier and snapped his fingers, this time holding up three fingers. Eddie watched helplessly as Mali tried to push herself up and the soldier kicked her in the face. Her head snapped back and she flopped unconscious onto the floor. Eddie watched for any signs of life, but there were none. Commander Boli knelt down and felt for a pulse. “You’re lucky. She’s still alive. Barely.” Boli stood back up. “Now give me what I want!”