We get to the gate, where he stops the van and lowers the window. The guard there asks him something in Turkish and the driver replies, reaching for a clipboard on the passenger seat. He shows the guard the front page on the clipboard, and we’re cleared to go through. I take the opportunity to rise and peer through the windshield. I see a parking area where several vendor and construction vehicles are stationed, so I point him over there. As soon as he parks the van and shuts it off, I get in the seat beside him, motion him closer, then conk him on the back of the head.
“Sorry,” I say, but he doesn’t hear me. I lay him on the floorboard, look to see if anyone is watching, take the keys, and then get out of the van.
There seem to be several public entrances to the building made up of glass doors that are most likely locked at this time. The workers and guards are using the loading dock I saw earlier. This appears to be for a major department store, the biggest vendor in the complex. I want to avoid the heavy traffic areas and find another way in, so I opt for a set of glass doors. I scan the lightpoles for security cameras and see none — but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. I’m afraid I have to be a little reckless at this point. I’m running out of time and I want to get in and get out as quickly as possible. So what do I do? I walk out into the light, head for one of the public entrances, and use my lock picks to get inside.
No one sees me that I know of.
I’m inside the building. The lights are off here in a main corridor that passes through the shopping center. Empty storefronts line the sides of the hallway, and I find it odd that none of them are named yet. For a mall that’s set to “open” soon, from what I can see there are no real stores inside.
I move toward the central core of the mall, a wide open space that connects three wings and a passage to the unnamed, big department store. Overhead is the huge domed ceiling, and there seems to be a line on the underside dividing it into halves. A few lights are on here, so I hug the walls and try to use natural cover to mask my movements. Then I hear the sound of a motorized vehicle in one of the other dark wings, so I crouch and wait for it to come into view. It turns out to be one of those three-wheeled golf carts like the ones they used at Akdabar Enterprises in Turkey. Two guys dressed in security guard uniforms are inside.
The cart rolls past me, headed for the department store wing. It’s now or never, so I make my move. I run and chase the back of the cart, jump onto the back end, and surprise the two guards. Before they can react and say, “Hey!” I slam their heads together. One guy goes out, but the other one must have a hard head. He leaps out of his seat at me, pushing me flat onto the back of the vehicle. It continues to move forward but swerves for a wall. The guard hits me hard in the face, producing a star-filled slate in front of my eyes, but I bring up my knee in a classic Krav Maga below-the-belt crotch crunch. This causes my opponent to freeze with shock and pain.
At that moment the cart crashes into the wall. It’s a good thing it wasn’t traveling at a very high speed, or it might have attracted some attention. Instead it makes a dull thud, and my happy nemesis flies off me and smashes into the steering wheel. I rise and punch him hard in the jaw and he’s out, like his friend.
Neither guard is armed, but I relieve one of them of a security keycard. I imagine it will come in handy at some point.
I creep into the dark department store, which is — surprise, surprise — empty. But on one wall there’s a double door that looks like a big elevator. Of course, now I see what this place is. It’s not a department store at all but some kind of staging area. Supplies and stuff are brought in through the loading dock and taken to this double door — which I assume is the main entrance to whatever it is that Tarighian’s hiding. I start to move toward it, but I hear footsteps in the darkness near the loading dock area. I wait until I see two guards walk out of the shadows and to the double door. One of them inserts a keycard, the doors open, and they go in.
When the doors close, I run across the floor and use the stolen keycard to open them.
I nearly gasp aloud when I see what’s on the other side. There’s a long ramp sloping to a brightly lit underground level that’s full of workers. I leap to the side, out of the doorway, and roll to a position behind a stack of crates. I think no one saw me. They’re all too busy, like worker bees preparing the nest for the honey harvest. From here, though, I have a better chance to look around and comprehend what I see.
Quite literally, it takes my breath away.
It’s a goddamned missile silo. Or something like that. The level I’m on is really a circular, perimeter “balcony” that looks down onto the lower level, much like a rotunda. In the middle of the bottom floor sits a gigantic cannon-like apparatus made of alloy and steel. The base appears to be about a hundred feet square and looks as if it weighs a few tons. Surrounding the base is a massive mechanism of hydraulics that raises and lowers the weapon. The cannon-barrel is about 100 meters long, several meters thick, and sits perpendicular to the ground floor, pointing straight up. The thing probably raises from a deep well in the ground so that it extends the full length into the air.
My God! I suddenly realize what it is! I recognize it! I remember seeing pictures of the original designs, back when Gerard Bull attempted to develop one of these things for Iraq in the 1980s.
It’s a Babylon supergun, complete and ready for use. The shopping mall is nothing but the enclosure for the weapon. When they want to fire it, I imagine the supergun is raised to the ground level, where it sits in that central, empty space beneath the domed ceiling. The two halves of the dome separate, like an observatory, and the barrel extends into the sky as far as it will go.
Incredible! No, it’s fucking fantastic! I have to admit I’m impressed. The thing is absolutely beautiful. It’s the sleekest, most awesome weapon I’ve ever seen in my life.
Now I realize what those blueprints were that I saw in Tarighian’s office in Turkey. Albert Mertens, Gerard Bull’s right-hand man, designed this thing. And it’s a jaw-dropping masterpiece.
From what I remember of Bull’s original Babylon supergun and what it’s able to do, this version looks very similar. I’m guessing here, but I’d say that’s a 1000mm gun that utilizes tons of propellant to fire a humongous projectile over a range of up to 1,000 kilometers.
I immediately snap some pictures of it with my OPSAT and then type a text message to Lambert. I tell him what I’ve found and that I’m going to try and sabotage the thing. At any rate, he needs to get the United Nations, or NATO, or whoever the hell he can persuade to help out, over here as soon as possible and bomb the shit out of the place before Tarighian has a chance to use it. From the looks of all the activity, it’s pretty damned close.
Sheesh. Sabotage the thing. How am I going to do that? The only weapons I’ve got with me are the frag grenades and my SC-20K. That’ll be like flicking paper clips at an armored tank.
Maybe the best thing is to set the grenades to go off in a bit, perhaps cause a diversion, and give me time to get the hell out of here. I can only hope Lambert will come through with the big guns. I reach into the Osprey and pull out a grenade, set it to go off in forty-five minutes, and place it out of sight but very near the double doors.
I begin to move slowly around the perimeter of the upper balcony. Whenever I find a good spot, I place another frag grenade and set it to go off simultaneously with the first one. I continue to do this all the way around the balcony, which thankfully is devoid of workers. They’re all down below, hurrying like mad to finish whatever they’re doing.