They were in another cave, much smaller, that had been adapted, the floor leveled and carpeted roughly, the walls made more flat. It was a form of anteroom with desks and phones and litter everywhere. “The guys sure didn’t waste any time getting the hell out, did they?” he said bitterly, hurrying across the room to another tunnel, down it and into another cave room with more desks, a few radar screens, and more phones, gray and green. “The grays’re internal, greens go to the tower and masts on the crest, from there by satellite to Tehran, our HQ switchboard in the embassy, and various top secret places - they’ve built-in scramblers.” Rosemont picked one up. It was dead. “Maybe the communications guys did their job after all.” At the far end of the room was a tunnel. “That goes down to the generator room for this section which has all the gear we’ve to blow. Living quarters, kitchens, mess halls, repair shops, are in other caves off the unloading area. About eighty guys worked here around the clock.”
“Is there any other way out of here?” Ross asked. His feeling of being closed in was greater than ever.
“Sure, topside, where we’re going.”
Rough steps led upward through the domed roof. Rosemont started climbing them. On the landing was a door: TOP SECURITY AREA - NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT SPECIAL AUTHORITY. It too was open. “Shit,” he muttered. This cave was well-appointed, floor flatter, walls whitewashed. Dozens of computers and radar screens, and banked electronic equipment. More desks and chairs and phones, gray and green. And two red on a central desk.
“What’re those for?”
“Direct to Langley by military satellite.” Rosemont picked one up. It was dead. So was the other. He pulled out a piece of paper and checked it, then went over to a bank of switches and turned some on. Another obscenity as a soft hum began, computers started chattering, warming up, and three of the radar screens came to life, the central white trace-line turning, leaving a scatter pattern in its wake. “Bastards! Bastards to leave everything like this.” His finger stabbed at four comer computers. “Blow those mothers - they’re the core.”
“Gueng!”
“Yes, sahib.” The Gurkha took off his pack and began to lay out the plastic explosives and detonators.
“Half-hour fuses?” Rosemont said.
“Half-hour fuses it is.” Ross was staring at one of the screens, fascinated. Northward he could see most of the Caucasus, all of the Caspian, eastward even part of the Black Sea, all with extraordinary clarity.“That’s a lot of space to peer into.”
Rosemont went over to its keyboard and turned a switch.
For a moment Ross was dumbfounded. He tore his eyes off the screen. “Now I understand why we’re here.”
“That’s only part.”
“Christ! Then we’d better get cracking. What about the cave mouth?” “We’ve no time to do a decent job - and the other side of our door’s routine junk they’ve stolen anyways. We’ll blow our tunnels after us and use the escapeway.”
“Where’s that?”
The American went over to a door. This one was locked. He took out a bunch of tagged keys and found the one he wanted. The door swung open. Behind the door a narrow flight of stairs spiraled upward steeply. “It leads out onto the mountain.”
“Tenzing, make sure the way’s clear.” Tenzing went up the stairs two at a time. “Next?”
“Code room and the safes, we’ll mine those. Then communications. Generator room last, okay?”
“Yes.” Ross liked the incisive strength more and more. “Before we do you’d better look at this.” He took out the small, plastic-covered card. “Gueng caught up with our guide. This was on him.”
All color left Rosemont’s face. On the card was a thumbprint, some writing in Russian script, and a signature. “An ID!” he burst out. “A Commie ID!” Behind them Gueng paused momentarily.
“That’s what I thought. What’s it say exactly?”
“I don’t know, I can’t read Russian either but I’ll bet my life it’s a safe-conduct pass.” A wave of sickness came up from his stomach as he remembered all the days and nights he had spent in the old man’s company, wandering the mountains, sleeping alongside him in the open, feeling very safe. And all the time he’d been pegged. Numbly he shook his head. “Meshgi was with us for years - he was one of Ali bin Hassan Karakose’s band - Ali’s an underground leader and one of our best contacts in the mountains. Great guy who even operates as far north as Baku. Jesus, maybe he’s been betrayed.” He looked at the card again. “Just doesn’t figure.”
“I think it figures we could have been deliberately set up, sitting ducks,” Ross said. “Perhaps the convoy’s part of it, full of troops to track us. We’d better hurry it up, eh?”
Rosemont nodded, fighting to dominate the fear that swept through him, helped by the calmness of the other man. “Yes, yes, you’re right.” Still shattered, he went through a small passage to another door. Locked. As he looked for the key on the tabbed ring of keys he said, “I owe you and your men an apology. I don’t know how we - I - got taken in or how that bastard escaped the security check but he did and you’re probably right - we’re set up. Sorry, but, shit, that doesn’t help a goddamn bit.”
“It helps.” Ross grinned and the fear dropped off both of them. “It helps. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, yes, thanks. Gueng killed him?”
“Well,” Ross said dryly. “He handed me his head. They usually just bring back ears.”
“Jesus. You been with them long?”
“The Gurkhas? Four years.”
The key slid into the lock and the door opened. The code room was pedantically neat. Telex and teleprinter and copy machines. A curious computer printer with a keyboard was on its own desk. “That’s the decoder - worth any money you’d like to ask the opposition.” On the desks pencils were lined up. Half a dozen manuals.
Rosemont picked them up. “Good sweet Jesus…” All were codebooks marked MECCA - ONE COPY ONLY. “Well, at least the master code’s locked up.” He went to the modem safe with its electronic, 0-9 digital lock that was set into one wall, read the combination from his piece of paper and touched the digits. But the Open light didn’t come on. “Maybe I missed a number. Read them to me, okay?”
“Sure.” Ross began reading out the long series of numbers. Behind them Tenzing came in noiselessly. Neither man heard him. “… one twenty-five… seven twenty-one.” Then both men felt the presence at the same instant and whirled, momentarily panicked.
Tenzing kept the delight off his face and closed his ears to the profanity. Hadn’t the Sheng’khan told him to train the son and make him wise in the ways of stealth and killing? Hadn’t he sworn to guard him and be his silent teacher? “But, Tenzing, for the love of God don’t let my son know I told you to. Keep this secret between us….” It’s been very hard to catch the sahib unawares for weeks, he thought happily. But Gueng caught him tonight and so did I. Much better we do than an enemy - and now they surround us like bees and their queen.
“The staircase leads upward for seventy-five steps to an iron door,” Tenzing said in his best reporting voice. “The door is rusty but I forced it. Outside is a cave, outside the cave is the night - a good escape route, sahib. Not good is that from there I saw the first of the convoy.” He paused, not wanting to be wrong. “Perhaps half an hour of time is left.” “Go back to the first door, Tenzing, the one we barred. Mine the runnel this side of the door to leave the door unharmed - twenty-minute fuse from now. Tell Gueng to set his fuses the same from now exactly. Tell Gueng what I’ve ordered.” “Yes, sahib.”