A New World: Reckoning (23 page)

There are very few landmarks to guide on which makes positioning difficult. I undo my fatigue top and unzip the dry suit in order to prevent any heat buildup. With a bead string attached to my vest to mark distances, I set out on an easterly heading. We had planned the drop to be directly west and, being computer controlled, I have no doubts that my heading will bring me to the facility.

Time passes, and it seems like I have climbed over a hundred fences. Walking slowly and having to navigate ditches and barbed wire, it takes me about two hours to arrive near the outer fence of the bunker. Looking through my night vision binoculars, I see the outer perimeter. I’m still far enough away that the cameras won’t be able to pick me up, but I maintain a low profile nonetheless.

I’m hesitating as I know that, once I start forward, things could get interesting. Looking at facility photographs and mission planning in a warm room is far different than looking at it face on. With a deep breath, I focus on the fence poles, counting them until I come to the one that the terrain and closeness to the exit building makes it the best option to go through. It is also the best in regards to angles from the fence-mounted cameras.

The terrain outside of the fence is composed of knee-high stubble which should help minimize my profile as I crawl through it. If I should actually encounter any mines, they’re going to be hard to mark without the cameras picking up the markers. Instead, I’ll be laying a trail of dark brown 550 cord along my path, making sure that it’s hidden amidst the grass stubble yet still visible to those looking for it. The cameras look through the surrounding terrain at an angle, so the grass should conceal it easily enough.

The fact that I haven’t been assaulted or heard any sound of pursuit to this point leads me to believe that we were able to leave Portland and arrive unnoticed. Removing my vest, I tape strands of the grass to it and my pack, which I will be pushing ahead of me as I go. I have to adjust the stands to make sure they look the same as the ones in the ground when I’m crawling. If they are at vastly different angles, I might as well be carrying a large blinking sign with a neon arrow.

Sealing my dry suit and fastening my fatigue top, I replace my vest. With a last look at the compound through the binoculars, I stow them and lower myself to the ground. It’s going to be a long, slow crawl, so I set my mind into that frame. I begin by slowly pushing my camouflaged small pack ahead, choosing the best path through the tufts so that I don’t create a trail. Burrowing through the clumps, ensuring my body remains below the tops of the grass, I follow.

Inch by inch, I push my gear and drag my body closer. After each movement, I use the toes of my boot to close the grass behind me. My mind is clear of any thoughts other than the next foot of dirt. I know that I have a couple of hours ahead of me before I arrive at the fence so force myself to be patient.

About a hundred yards from the fence, I begin probing the ground in front of my pack with the blade of my knife. I test the area ahead and just to the side, pressing the edge gently into the soil in order to locate any mines that may have been laid. Satisfied that all is clear for the next foot, I push my pack ahead and pull myself along, only to do it again. On the dirt behind me, I trail the cord.

As I draw close and can discern the motion of the cameras, I slow even further, timing the camera movements. Two of the cameras are equidistant from the part of the fence where I’ll make my entry. They aren’t rotating a full one-hundred eighty degrees, so I’ll be able to get inside of their visibility cone outside of the fence. I imagine in my mind what the monitors in the security room are showing; low-light imaging with a thermal overlay, or alternating the spectrums with each pass.

I time my movements when they are both facing away. Each of the cameras is on a constant rotation, with each rotating at slightly different speeds, so it takes a little timing on my part. If they were on random offset schedules, it would be a lot more difficult. However, random offsets are hard for the security personnel to tell the difference between someone messing with the cameras and the computer-generated algorithm, so most security systems utilize synchronized rotations when using multiple cameras.

I lie down and become part of the landscape when one or both of them pan my way. Periodically, as I’ve lain on the dirt, I’ve opened my dry suit to allow any body heat to slowly escape. Moving as slow as I am, there isn’t much heat generated on its own, but with the suit on, some is. With the cold air surrounding me, I have to keep my movements slow to prevent any heat build-up which will be easily picked up.

I look at the cameras and, noting they are facing away, I push my bag forward over probed ground. So far, I haven’t found any evidence of mines, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. It could mean that I’m just lucky. I’m in the smallest of gullies, really just a low spot in the ground that extends a distance. I pull myself along and settle close to the ground, my boots quickly pulling any tipped grass stalks upright.

There are times when I can only move the pack and have to lie low due to the cameras overlapping. It would be so much easier if the cameras were in synch so I could time them, but nope, they have to make it difficult.

I’m close enough to hear the faint whir of the camera motors. I lay tight against the earth as they pan over me, feeling thankful that the facility didn’t want to draw attention to themselves by placing lights around the perimeter. That would have been a lot of lights, but it would have made what I’m doing next to impossible. Use of lighting would have interfered with the camera systems but not enough to make them useless. This place is relying on their technology to spot anyone approaching when they should have a mix of soldiers and technology.

By the time I reach the fence, my elbows and knees are raw from dragging myself across the ground. Through the links, I make out the shape of the small exit building a hundred yards on the other side. The plan was to signal with clicks on the radio that I had reached the fence, however, with the ability to speak to Robert over a distance, I open up and inform him. He’ll then relay the information to Lynn. The radio will be used as a backup just in case.

O
f course, thinking of it in that way is just redundant. Aren’t all backups used just in case?
I think, lying next to the fence.

Weird thoughts filter through my mind at the oddest of moments sometimes. It may be my brain taking a break from the focus or stress. Whatever it may be, I’ve had some of my weirdest thoughts while out on missions.

Removing a chemical spray can from my pack, I set to work on the links next to the fence pole, spraying the corrosive liquid on the mid-point between the intersecting links. Keeping one eye on the cameras a couple of posts away in both directions and my other on the field, I spray upward for a few feet before directing the liquid horizontally.

Finishing, I separate the broken links quietly. Although the odds are pretty slim, there is a chance they have microphones attached to the cameras so I have to maintain silence. I push the fence slowly inward and crawl through the opening. Kneeling on the other side, I hook the separated links back to their counterparts making it appear that the fence is unbroken.

Pulling my pack on, I run toward the small, square building that serves as an entry, or exit, to the escape tunnel. Fortunately, the entrance is faced away from me so I quickly make my way to the rear. Crouched against the concrete brick wall, I listen for any sounds that might signal that I have been caught. There is nothing except a very light breeze that flows across the grass stubble.

Removing a folding pole ladder attached to my pack, I inch around to one side of the building and extend the ladder to the roof. Ascending quickly, quick being relative with trying to keep the ladder from sliding to the side, I climb onto the roof, pulling the ladder up behind me.

Crawling across the sloped surface, I make my way to the front and peer over the edge of the peak. There isn’t any light illuminating the front and directly below me is a stationary camera within reach. Looking closer, I see that the camera is connected with a coaxial cable which will make the connections easier. I roll out of my pack and remove one of the switch assemblies that I made prior to leaving.

The switch has one small length of coax with a quick connect end attached to one of the input/output ports. A small recording device is also attached. The whole assembly, even with the recorder, which I attach to the wall alongside the switch, is small.

Leaning over the edge of the roof, I remove the protective covering from permanent, double-sided mounting tape and place the switch assembly and recorder against the wall behind the camera. No one should notice anything out of the ordinary. They’ll think the contraption is part of the camera system, unless they are IT techs who will notice that the switch and its associated gear is not part of the original system.

With everything in place and hidden for the most part, I unscrew the coax cable connected to the camera making sure that I keep pressure so that the signal isn’t interrupted. I then quickly remove the coax cable I was holding in place and slide the quick connect cable from the number one switch port to the back of the camera while placing the end of the original cable into the single main port on the back of the switch. The whole move takes less than two seconds which shouldn’t trigger an alarm. There may be a small blip on the monitor in the security room which may or may not be noticed. I quickly screw in the original cable and push back from the edge.

With one hand on my M-4, I lay still and listen. If the blip was noticed, a security team will be sent to investigate. It wouldn’t be in my best interest for them to emerge from the door and look up to see my smiling face as I fuck with their camera. Emitting small breath plumes, which I cover as best as I can within the fold of my elbow, I wait fifteen minutes, which should be more than long enough for anyone to show up. There’s nothing but the darkness surrounding me and the cold of the roof that seeps through my layers of clothing, chilling even the dry suit.

Inching back to the edge, I insert the reconfigured network sniffer and connect it to the mirrored port. Harold said it should almost instantaneously configure itself, but I give it a few seconds. Removing the sniffer, I insert the recorder into the same port and watch the small display to verify that it’s picking up the video feed, noting that the video isn’t sending time and date information as part of the data. That will most likely be displayed by the video system in the security room itself. The fact that the camera isn’t rotating makes it much easier as I won’t have to clip the video to present a continuous path as it goes through a looped playback.

I set the recorder to ‘record’ and let it run for a minute. Moving the recorder to an open port, port two, I set it to do a looped playback. Now the tricky part. I plug the sniffer into the switch on port three while pulling the cable from the camera, which I reattach to the mirrored port as per Harold’s instructions.

The small display on the recorder shows the low-light image from the front of the building with small differences in the heat showing up from a thermal overlay. If it all works correctly, I should be able to work on the door without being seen and the system will still show that the camera is online and sending video. Satisfied, I place electrical tape over the small recorder display and, with my chest hurting from hanging over the edge of the roof, I move back and wait for any response.

Either I really fucked up and the security team is laughing so hard that they can’t move, or the contraption is functioning the way it’s supposed to. Regardless, no one comes to investigate.

Giving it another measure of time, I climb down from the roof, smooth over my tracks, and edge toward the front, keeping my senses tuned to the area around me for any sound out of the ordinary. I especially watch the door looking for the barest hint of movement. With a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I hug the wall toward the steel door leading inside.

Internally, I feel both numb and anxious. The conflict of emotions stems from maintaining my entire focus on the next step while also feeling the anxiety of knowing that I could be discovered at any moment; the racing heartbeat, senses tuned so fine that even the noise of grass bending under a boot sounds loud, nervous sweat oozing from pores. Without the ability to force the mind to focus, those emotions would run wild, causing fingers to slip and fear to escalate.

Taking out a flashlight, I shield it, letting only a thin beam of light exit. Shining it in the crack of the door, I see a metal strip a couple of inches above the bottom. Actually, it’s two strips of metal in contact with each other. If these two strips separate, it will trigger an alarm, or at the very least, it will display an alert.

Taking my steel slim jim, I run it behind the latch and ease the door ajar, opening it only far enough so that the latch won’t re-engage, and so that the magnets at the bottom of the door stay in contact. Taking a thin set of calipers, I place one of the small magnets Bannerman located in the narrow jaws and tighten it enough to hold it in place. Easing the doors open so that the metal strips remain in contact, I gently slide the calipers in the gap behind the door-side contact. Luckily the door opens outward or this would be impossible. Any slip here and it will be over. The facility will be alerted and my ass will be hanging out over a very large cliff.

As I draw the door open more, I move the magnet in the caliper along frame-side contact, slowly replacing the door sensor with the magnet. The magnet rotates slightly and, with a click, it snaps onto the metal strip set into the jamb, completing the circuit. Opening the door barely wide enough, I slide through the gap and step inside.