McCracken leaned forward. The base’s third underlevel was nothing more than an elaborate, high-tech gymnasium. He recognized some of the machines from health clubs he had worked out in, others from drawing-board sketches he did not know were in production. In addition to the machines, there was an assortment of punching bags, treadmills, and Lifecycle exercise bikes. The camera panned to the right rear corner, and McCracken fumbled at his armrest for the Stop button.
“Freeze it there,” he told Virginia Maxwell.
The picture on the screen locked in place.
“What do you see?”
“The way those mats are laid out there on the floor. It’s got to be martial arts. And there, furthest to the right, zoom in.”
Virginia Maxwell obliged.
“Markiwara,” said Blaine. “Pad-covered boards for striking practice used in hand-conditioning. They’ve been pretty much beat to hell.”
“Hand-to-hand combat, my dear?”
“At a very advanced level.”
“Let’s fastforward, shall we?”
Fresh thoughts formed in Blaine’s head as the pictures whizzed by on the screen.
“I assume your people found nothing more in writing.”
“You assume correctly. Ah, here we are….”
Virginia Maxwell changed the tape speed back to normal, and Blaine recognized the elevator compartment once more. Almost immediately the doors slid open on what must have been the fourth sublevel. A brief walk followed, taking the recon team into a room bathed in darkness. The searching beam of a flashlight could be seen, then the slow blooming of fluorescent ceiling lights.
“Look familiar?” asked the head of the Gap when the picture was fully illuminated.
“I’ll say. It’s a target range. For small arms and rifle fire.” He looked at Maxwell. “Any shell casings?”
“Not so much as a smidgeon of powder, my dear. Did you expect any less?”
“Just lost my mind for a minute.”
What he had gained, though, was, at last, a clearer understanding of what the secret base had been designed to create.
Not monsters at all, but the next best thing.
Somebody was training killers, an elite group on a par with any Blaine had faced before. In itself that was not unusual. What was unique was what had preceded the training. His mind strayed back to the pictures Virginia Maxwell had skipped over of the first two underground levels. The ultra high-tech laboratories and examination rooms. Broken glass, remnants of syringes and specimen bottles. The link between those two levels and the two he was seeing today was undeniable.
“What do you make of these?” Virginia Maxwell was asking.
On the screen was a progression of normal-sized rooms, each containing only a single chair. A few of the rooms had window slats high up on the walls, either for observation of the subject or perhaps projection of a video display inside. The camera zoomed in on one of the chairs.
Leather straps dangled from every part of it. Blaine could see some were cracked and broken, evidence of severe stretching.
“Sensory deprivation?” he suggested. “Some sort of mind control or brainwashing?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, my dear.”
Virginia Maxwell continued the tape, but McCracken’s mind had locked on those thirteen cubicles he and Johnny had found on sublevel two. His image of the prisoners they had held was beginning to gain substance.
“That about does it,” Maxwell said. She switched the video off and turned to look at him. “There’s more, but I’ve given you the highlights.”
“What about the bodies Johnny and I found?”
“Fasten your seat belt, darling. They were all on the government’s payroll. They all had top security clearance.”
“Specialties?”
“This is where it gets interesting. Eliminate nine whom we’ve IDed as members of the Marine Corps or the Special Forces. They were there to provide security.”
“Alas, not very successfully.”
“That leaves nineteen, and at least half of those came straight out of the upper echelons of the bio-tech sector. Strictly top drawer. Best in their field. Plenty of chemical engineers, too, along with a trio who specialized in computer microcircuitry.”
“And the rest?”
“Brain surgeons and specialists.”
“Specialists as in shrinks, Maxie?”
“Anything but, my dear. Specialists in brain function — what specific part of the brain controls which attributes and emotions, and how those parts combine to form a magical whole.”
“Interesting group to have gathered in the Amazon.”
“And one name kept surfacing at the top of their routing orders.”
“Don’t tell me,” interrupted Blaine. “The late General Berlin Hardesty.” He paused. “There’re still thirteen residents of the installation unaccounted for.”
“There’s no evidence suggesting anyone else was even there. We did microscans for fingerprints and came up with only twenty-nine sets.”
The anomaly struck Blaine suddenly. “But Johnny and I only counted twenty-eight bodies.”
“Very observant, my dear. One escaped death, obviously, because he was not present at the installation when your Thunder Beings struck. His name is Jonas Parker. I’ve got his file right here.”
“And if he’s still alive…”
“We’ll have someone who can tell us exactly what was going on down there.”
“Very good, Maxie.”
“Finding him would be better, my dear.”
“Leave that to me.”
Chapter 16
“Professor Ainsley is expecting you, sir,” Obie One said, as it opened the front door for McCracken.
“Obie One,” a voice bellowed from the study, “bring him in here now!”
“Yes, sir.”
The edge in the old man’s voice was unmistakable. When Blaine had spoken to Ainsley earlier in the day, he had been smooth and calm. Something had obviously changed. As Blaine moved toward the professor’s study, he noticed that Obie One was staying put by the door. At McCracken’s urging, Virginia Maxwell had sent over a copy of the videotape taken at the installation in the jungle. Ainsley had called to demand his presence three hours later.
Ainsley was waiting for him inside his study, now even more littered than before with papers, gadgets, and fragments of abandoned droids. Blaine noticed instantly that the gargantuan Obie Seven had been moved into the open against the far wall. Its square eyes glowed red. McCracken could see Vulcan 7.62-mm miniguns had been fitted into its extremities.
“What gives, Professor?”
“They’re not going to take me without a fight.”
“Who’s not?”
“You’re in danger, too, Blaine. I should have expected this as soon as you told me your story.”
“Expected what?”
“You knew about them and you told me. They’ll be coming for us before long, both of us. We’re threats to them.”
“Them?” McCracken echoed.
Ainsley regarded him anxiously. “You really don’t know what it is you’ve stumbled onto here, do you?”
“Not yet.”
“Suppose I can’t fault you for it, Blaine. After all, this isn’t your field. You couldn’t know.”
“I’m a quick study.”
“Omicron! The key is Omicron! When I began developing it, do you remember the purpose, the goal?”
“Devising the perfect solution for limited, specific entanglements.”
“Hence the Obie series. But it was canceled because of costs. And because of something else: an alternative.”