“Jesus, how in the hell can you two see that far?” Will asked as he was always amazed at Jack’s prowess in spotting danger. Needless to say Henri’s ability came as no surprise at all.
“Be careful you two,” Jack said as he finally saw the third man that the Frenchman had seen. “I need answers, not dead men — well, if they’re reporters, that’s a judgment call,” Jack said with his wry humor due to his experiences with reporters.
“Right,” Jason said as he and Will left Henri and Jack and made their way to the back of the old buildings and then quickly vanished.
“Shall we?” Jack said as they made their way to building 114. Henri gestured graciously for the colonel to lead the way.
Collins felt the weight of the nine-millimeter weapon in his shoulder holster but knew as long as they were being observed he wanted no obvious intelligence for those watching. They would have to guess at their armed or unarmed status.
As they approached they saw that the building was actually in far worse shape than its neighbors. The bottom row of windows were completely lined with broken safety glass and the brick had not been sandblasted since 1984. Large and flowing rust stains scarred the facade and weeds grew between her brick-and-mortar foundation and entwined the wooden structure above. Henri didn’t feel it, but Jack took an exasperated breath when he realized they were probably barking up the wrong tree. He made his way up the crumbling concrete steps leading to the front offices that had once witnessed the launch of the USS Arizona from the very same dry dock facility fronting the five buildings on this end of the yard.
“I do not believe this is much of a going concern,” Henri said as he walked through the shattered front door with Jack in the lead. Once out of sight of any onlookers on rooftops, Jack pulled out his pistol and Henri, with raised brows, followed suit.
Collins eased over a fallen file cabinet and saw papers and old files scattered across the floor. In the far corner Farbeaux was startled by a large wharf rat that scurried across the debris on the old green-tiled floor. Jack saw a place where a secretary and several others worked that looked as if it hadn’t seen a live person since the 1960s. Jack lowered his weapon and then looked at Henri with concern as he holstered the Glock.
“Seeing as how the design of the two buildings in question are so similar, it would stand to reason they would secure anything they were trying to hide just as they did in building one-seventeen.”
“Covertly speaking, is that what you would do, Colonel?” Jack asked, knowing how Henri’s criminal mind worked.
Farbeuax also holstered his weapon and then smiled. “No, if I were to build a second doorway that I wished kept secret from my benefactor, I would have built it in Wyoming.”
“I guess they are not quite as accomplished as you,” Jack said, and then made his way over the trash of the front offices and walked out through the door marked MANUFACTURING DEPARTMENT in chipping red paint.
“No one is as accomplished as myself, my dear colonel.”
The hope Jack had been feeling a few minutes before was quickly dashed when he saw the empty space where you could fit an old World War II battle cruiser. Rats scurried hurriedly from one place to another as the weak light filtered through the dirty and painted-over broken windows.
“Colonel?” Henri said as he nodded to the darkened far corner. Jack saw the heavy elevator lift with several old wooden filing cabinets overturned and resting in front of the old gates. “It only makes sense that if one doorway is closed, go to another, in the exact same place the first one was hidden.”
Jack nodded and they both started moving the detritus from the floor in front of the lift. Henri reached out and flipped the light switch two times with no result.
“Afraid of the dark?” Jack quipped as he slid the old-fashioned wooden gate up and then the steel screen aside as he stepped into the lift.
“No, I’m afraid of what’s hiding in that darkness, Colonel. That is how I’ve managed to stay alive for so long in a business that does not encourage active and peaceful retirement.”
Jack pulled out his gun again and waited for Henri. “I see your point.”
“Well, no power, let’s hope this thing still has gravity brakes.”
Jack reached out and lowered the wooden gate and then slid the steel doors closed. He found the elevator’s annunciator handle and then pushed it forward. Henri ducked when a loud clanking sound was heard and then the sound of a hundred pigeons below alighting as the noise drove them to flight somewhere in the abyss below. The lift started to gravity-descend to the basement area. Both men flinched when the elevator became bathed in white, clean light from the fluorescent tubes lining the elevator shaft. Collins was suddenly feeling better about their odds.
“The building has its own power source. This one should be as dark as building one-seventeen,” Henri said as he eyed the passing concrete of the reinforced shaft. “The explosion from the attack severed all of the conduit lines coming in under the river.”
“This is considerably deeper than the first,” Collins said as he watched the hundreds of feet of reinforced concrete slide by as they continued down.
Finally the huge car started to slow. Jack knew that the lift was governed by something other than gravity as the car sensed it was close to the bottom of the long shaft. Henri looked at Jack and he nodded at the Frenchman as he pulled open the gate and then slid the wooden doors up. He scanned the area in front of them and saw an exact duplicate of the viewing gallery that now lay smashed in building 117. The only difference between the two was the plush design and creature comforts. Two wet bars sat at each end of the gallery and would serve the twenty seats that sat arrayed over the gallery’s clamshell floor below them. Henri smiled and then looked at Jack and holstered his own Glock.
Collins examined the gallery that looked as if it came out of a gothic novel where doctors sat observing a world-famous surgeon strut his knowledge below them upon the surgical stage. But who was it that occupied those chairs to watch the world of the impossible as it unfolded in front of them? Jack saw the plastic cover on one of the observation seats, which was different from the first in building 117. This button was situated on the arm of an ornate chair as if whoever sat there was in total control and wanted the others in the gallery to know it. Jack sensed power there. Whoever they were dealing with was smart and resourceful. As he approached the gallery the dim mood lighting came on and the soft hum of power generation was somewhere below their feet. Jack stopped and looked at Henri, who pointed at the walls and the glass-enclosed sensors there.
“You tripped the motion detectors.” The Frenchman raised a brow as he studied the sensors after standing on a chair. “Not only did we switch on the power”—he tore the darkened glass fixture from the wall and tossed it to Collins—“we have alerted whoever is responsible for this. It’s also a silent alarm.”
Jack shook his head and then placed the sensor in the chair. He quickly raised the plastic cover on the arm of the chair and with one last concerned breath he hit the switch.
The lights dimmed and the silent world around them was shattered by an alarm that blared like a diving submarine. They both cringed at the loudness of the machinery hidden somewhere in the depths of the building. It was obvious someone had lied to the building planners, inspectors, and navy yard development corporation — this was most definitely renovated far beyond anything in the ancient shipyard.
“Please stand away from section twenty-three,” a mechanical voice sounded from the speakers overhead. The announcement made both Henri and Jack momentarily believe they had been joined by the very men who had built the facility. “Please stand away from section twenty-three.”