Interrupt (45 page)

He didn’t seem upset by the idea, so Emily was cautious. “We could screen for Neanderthal tendencies in unborn babies,” she said. “It
might be possible to remake humankind. We could abort fetuses who exhibit those traits.”

“And you’re not sure that’s… ethical.”

“I’m not sure it’s
desirable,
” she said. “What if the pulse lasts five thousand years? What are we going to do? We can’t hide in here forever.”

“You’ve been talking to Marcus.”

“I wasn’t, I,” she stammered.

“Marcus is crazy. You know that, don’t you?”

“I think he’s seen things we haven’t.”

“He’s crazy, Emily. Don’t let him get to you.” Drew tried to embrace her, but she pulled free with a fresh pang of guilt.

She couldn’t ask Drew about developing a gene therapy meant to turn everyone Neanderthal. Drew would never quit. No matter how few of them were left, no matter how many years it took, Drew would fight.

He was who she needed to be with. Could she honestly claim the reverse was true?

I’m no good for you,
she thought.

She needed to decide which direction to go. She could try to cure the Neanderthals. Or she might bring peace if she awakened that ancient mind in everyone.

To Drew, the choice must be obvious. But to her, the cost remained unclear. Was P.J. better off as a severely autistic boy muted within himself? Or was he happier and more productive as a functioning Neanderthal? Even a healthy kid like Roell appeared to become everything he desired during the pulse, competent and powerful, and Marcus had already made his decision, wanting the strong relationship with his son.

“What did Marcus say to you?” Drew asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“If we’re going to… You said you trusted me.”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I know what I have to do.”

Drew cupped both sides of her jawbone in his hands and kissed her. Emily rose against him, tugging down his forearms. She directed his palms to her hips before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

She wanted to feel his body against hers. She wanted to be as vulnerable as possible. Her breathing was shallow and quick when they broke for air.

“Emily,” he said.

I know a private place,
she thought, but he said, “I had twenty minutes before I needed to meet someone. I wanted to get coffee with you.”

“We can.”

He shook his head. “Don’t come inside with me. Are you supposed to be in the labs? Either stay there or go back to your sleeping quarters.”

“I won’t.”

Drew smiled, both sad and proud. Of her? “This isn’t a joke,” he said. “Go.”

“Let me help.”

“No,” he said. “There’s going to be more trouble.”

BUNKER SEVEN FOUR

C
aptain Fuelling ordered me to keep this information from you, but we’ve had each other’s backs since day one,” Drew told Bugle and Patrick. “I can’t let you walk blind into our next mission.”

“Thank you, sir,” Patrick said.

The three of them stood in the central corridor on Level One. The complex felt deserted. On top on Level Three, a full crew occupied the command center. On One, nine men slept in the barracks behind Drew. The remainder of Seven Four’s uniformed personnel were in the tunnel or at the labs, guarding their prisoners and the other civilians. Drew might have led Bugle and Patrick into a supply room for privacy, but if anyone noticed them, it would look funny. As long as they spoke in whispers, the empty corridor would suffice.

Standing in the open should also make it easier for them to believe my orders are legitimate,
Drew thought. His head thrummed with anticipation. He was accustomed to prebattle nerves. What he didn’t like was his own reluctance, so he concealed his doubt with a staunch tone.

“The Chinese EMP weapons are real,” said. “Our ships and armored ground assets are failing at a higher rate than we can reconcile with the pulse, and the same thing is happening with our hardened aircraft. They’re burning us off the map.”

Patrick cursed. “What are we doing about it, sir?”

“DIA analysts found a pattern in the burnouts,” Drew said. “They’ve linked it to attack satellites in polar orbit.”

Bugle was unusually quiet. He held a Pop-Tart in one hand and used it as an excuse, chewing instead of talking. Drew hadn’t had a chance to apologize about Emily. He’d found Bugle and Patrick in the cafeteria, and bringing them up to speed was more important than anyone’s love life.

“Here’s where we earn our pay,” Drew said. He wanted Bugle to make a stupid remark like
Pay? When was the last time we got paid?

Bugle inhaled the last of his Pop-Tart, stuffing his cheeks.

He really likes her,
Drew thought, but they didn’t have time to bicker. “The evidence is soft,” Drew said. “Most of our satellites are gone, and the people at the Hoffman array are talking about probabilities instead of hard targets. The Chinese might have two attack satellites. They might have three. We know they’re in low Earth orbit, but intercepting them will be a guessing game.”

“We have more than three missiles, sir,” Patrick said.

“The president and his advisors aren’t convinced of the threat. The risk-reward is for shit. If we launch ASATs, China might think it’s the front end of a full-scale attack and retaliate. Nobody wants a nuclear exchange.”

“What about our generals, sir?”

“They’re split. Their decision was to hunker down and wait.”

“Sit and take it, sir?”

“My information is we’ve tried reprisal air strikes, but we don’t have enough fighters off China’s coast or long-range bombers at home. They’ve burned almost forty of our hardened aircraft out of the sky. Who knows how close they came to hitting our Osprey.”

Patrick frowned. Drew had made it personal, which was his intent, because he was about to ask them to cross the most personal line of all. Nothing was more sacred than a man’s loyalty—but the pulse had done more damage to the nation than any war. ROMEO’s leadership would never have dreamed of taking matters into their own hands if America’s last holdouts weren’t scattered and separated.

As much as Drew sympathized with Bugle’s indecision, they had a responsibility. They’d sworn to accept the toughest jobs even if the cost was their lives.

“The three of us and Fuelling represent the largest bloc of ROMEO operatives in any single bunker west of Colorado,” Drew said. “There are also four Navy SEALs under Fuelling’s command. He thinks the Marines will side with us, too, especially if you talk to them. They respect you, Sergeant.”

“I’m not sure I follow, sir,” Patrick said.

“We need to hit the Chinese satellites before we don’t have the ability to launch at all. Captain Fuelling and I have been ordered to lead a bloodless takeover.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Bugle said.

Drew’s voice sped up like a salesman’s, desperate to convince his friend. “Fuelling was behind the civilian conspiracy,” he said. “Fuelling talked to their ringleader early on and let him steal a pair of handguns—after removing the firing pins. The conspiracy fell apart sooner than Fuelling wanted, but it brought most of the bunker personnel out of the complex. No one’s left inside to stop us. We take the command center, take General Strickland, and the place is ours. Nobody gets hurt.”

“This bunker doesn’t have any launch capacity, sir,” Patrick said.

“Four weeks ago, PACOM sheltered two Aegis cruisers in the San Francisco Bay, the
Nickels
and the
Randolph,
” Drew said. “They’ve both suffered some systems degradation, but the
Randolph
has jury-rigged repairs to its AN/SPY and the
Nickels
is carrying SM-3s.”

The RIM-161 Standard Missile 3 was a battle-tested satellite killer. Their AN/SPY radar would be severely hampered by the pulse, as would the missile’s in-flight communications with the
Randolph,
but Drew could match real-time solutions with data provided by the Hoffman array and other assets nationwide.

“We’ll fly assault teams onto both ships under the guise of bringing in food and gear,” he said. “Bugle and I are Navy officers. ROMEO also has a man on the
Nickels
. He’ll help us take the bridge. Fuelling is in possession of the launch codes. We’ll hit the Chinese satellites. Then at least we’ll have a level playing field again.”

“And after that, sir?”

“After that, we stand down. We get the job done, then we surrender. Then there are very good odds all of us will face courts-martial.”

“Right. I just wanted to be clear, sir.” Patrick might have laughed. He made a grunting sound in his throat, which Drew acknowledged with a nod. Patrick’s unflappable nature made him a bulldozer of a man.

Drew’s guts were in a knot. He was caught between two oaths, one to the Navy, one to ROMEO. His honor was at stake—and his memories of Julie.

It wasn’t too late to warn General Strickland instead of helping Captain Fuelling. If he warned Strickland, Drew could ensure he wasn’t lining himself up for a jail sentence. He wanted his life to count for something. But he was convinced it was for the greater good.

“Why us?” Bugle asked.

He’s tired,
Drew thought.
Me, too.
“The original data on China’s EMP weapons was ours, so they knew we’d believe it. More than that, the other bunkers in range of Aegis ships are too secure. ROMEO didn’t think there was any way to break a team loose.”

“But the president—”

“We have to do this,” Drew said. “If China keeps scratching at us for another month, or for a year, there won’t be any working electronics in North America even if the pulse stops.”

Patrick said, “When do we go, sir?”

“Three hours. The men sleeping in the barracks will relieve the guard shift outside. Our SEALs are ready to secure the complex doors. There’ll be no one inside except us and six or seven men in the command center.”

“Why can’t we just grab the Osprey when we go back outside?” Bugle said.

“The bunker personnel will know we took it. They’ll alert everyone else in the area. We need to control communications before we take off.”

“Mutiny isn’t the answer,” Bugle said.

“I know what you’re feeling—”

“We’re supposed to be the good guys.”

Bugle had never argued with him before, and Drew felt a glint of pride. He nearly grinned. In the moment, his reaction was perverse, but he liked this new Bugle. The angel who’d always sat on Drew’s shoulder wanted to steer him true.

“I know what you’re feeling,” Drew repeated. “This sucks. But stepping outside the normal chain of command is what we’re trained to do.”

“Not now,” Bugle said. “Not with millions of people lost or dead. You said it yourself. If we launch, the Chinese might empty their silos before they realize we’re only hunting their satellites. There’ll be a holocaust.”

“Our guys can hit those satellites as they pass directly overhead, so the SM-3s won’t lift far enough to look like nukes. They’ll never reach suborbital trajectories, much less turn and reenter the atmosphere. Each strike will be done before China can react.”

“They’re on a hair trigger. We both are. You might cause our own guys to launch if two of our ships go dark.”

“You have your orders, Lieutenant,” Drew said, emphasizing Bugle’s rank. “This is a ROMEO directive.”

Bugle retreated from Drew and Patrick. In doing so, he cleared room for his hands, but Drew couldn’t believe his friend would pull his
sidearm. “Stop,” Drew implored him. “I know this is tough. I don’t like it, either.”

“Then why—”

“We need you.”

“Let me finish,” Bugle said, chafing at the interruption.

Drew was willing to let him have his say, but Patrick shifted to one side as far as the corridor would allow. A second later, footsteps walked lightly on the metal deck behind Bugle. Bugle glanced over his shoulder. Then his hand settled on the 9mm Glock at his hip.

“Don’t do it,” Drew said.

Emily walked into the intersection. Level One had a simple pattern of corridors in a square-cornered 8. The men stood in the central corridor. She’d entered from the east side of the complex facing the cavern and the labs.

Her blue eyes were round with trepidation. “Drew, I’m sorry, I know you told me to stay below,” she said. “I—”