Project - 16 (32 page)

“
Slowly take off the pack and put your hands on your head!” he
barked. I did as he asked. “Turn around.”

When I'd done this he produced a set of cuffs and fastened
them to my wrists so that my arms were behind my back. Then he
shoved me round and began marching me off towards a battered red
shipping crate which spilled light from the doorway. Soldiers began
appearing from different places around the camp, looking to see
what all the noise was about.

“
Where the fuck did you come from?” asked the
soldier.

“
I'm from the north, sir,” I replied. “I work for
Corban.”

“
We'll see about that, dude. You stumbled into a privately
owned piece of land and you're lucky we didn't shoot you
dead.”

“
Yeah, I'm sorry, sir. I saw the lights, that's
all.”

“
Your accent - it sounds weird. Where are you
from?”

“
Here, sir. I'm English.”

“
English? Man, I thought all you fuckers had run after the
Commies beat the shit out of you.”

“
I think I'm the only one left, sir.”

“
Ain't that the fucking truth. If you're telling it right then
the Colonel's been waiting for you for quite a while
now.”

“
Has he, sir?”

“
Yeah. He sure has.”

We went through the open doors, past two sentries who nodded
to the soldier escorting me, letting us in. The halogen lamp
hanging overhead blinded me for a moment and when the glare faded I
saw the Colonel sat at a make-shift desk made from ammo boxes. He
was out of uniform and he looked just like the others with their
combats and jumper - just like Riley did.

“
Miller!” he cried, standing up. “How the fuck are you? You're
late!” He looked at the soldier and with a gesture my cuffs were
taken off. “Can I get you a coffee, Miller?”

“
Will that be all, sir?” asked the soldier.

“
Yeah, that's all, Mike. Leave us be - Miller here is an old
friend. We're safe enough.”

“
Okay sir.”

The soldier left and the Colonel offered me a folding seat
that was leaning against the wall. I popped it open and placed it
in front of the desk whilst he poured hot water into two cups of
instant coffee.

“
Sorry Miller - I know how you like your coffee but all I’ve
got is this instant shit.”

“
It's fine,” I said.

“
It's not fine, Miller, it's not fine. None of this is 'fine'
now. But we have to make do, don't we?"

"I guess so," I said. Corban made the drinks and passed me
one, sitting back down with his coffee in both hands, blowing
across its surface, making ripples in the hot brown
liquid.

"Okay Miller - hit me with the bad news. What happened to
Riley? Did she cut and run on you?"

“
Not got a clue,” I said. “After leaving you we headed to my
house and stayed there a few days, waiting to hear from you, using
the equipment she brought with her. What happened? We heard
nothing."

“
Sorry, pal - things got a little hairy back State-side and we
fell out of touch. I got fresh orders to return last week so I
planned to make contact once we'd set up HQ but I have to confess
it slipped my mind. You managed without the Intel? Did your Dad's
books turn up anything?”

“
Just an obscure reference here and there. The first bunker we
checked out was a waste of time.”

“
Was Riley with you then?” he asked. I noticed that there was
a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth and that he'd been
blowing the coffee for longer than instant coffee
needed.

“
Yeah, she was with me then. After that we returned home and
tried the comms again, but as you say, there was
nothing.”

“
Hell, I'm really sorry about that Miller. I truly
am.”

“
It's nothing,” I said. “Besides - it's worked out okay I
guess. We began heading to the next bunker on our list but after a
day or so Riley began to lose her temper, said we should be driving
and not walking. I tried to explain how I didn't have enough fuel
to drive us there and back and she was having none of it. We were
passing Manchester when she broke off, yelling that she'd find a
car and drive back for me. I'm sorry to say, Colonel, that she
wasn't quite the Ranger I'd expected her to be.”

“
Not up to your standards, eh?” he said. “Again, I'm sorry for
that. She has a great history. Syria, Iraq, Georgia. I guess maybe
the war got to her in the end.”

“
Yeah, maybe. Anyway, that was the last time I saw
her.”

“
Shame. A real fucking shame.” We drank our coffee and the
Colonel looked past me to the sentries stood at the door, the
twitch still twitching. “Yeah,” he repeated absently. “A
shame.”

“
Well - looks like you've found what she was looking for
anyway. I saw the drill on my way in.”

“
Oh, that? Nah, that's not for them. That's what they sent me
back for. Some kind of research or something. The C and C wants a
server or something from in there. You don't mind, do
you?”

“
Mind?” I said. “Why would I mind?”

“
Well I guess I’ve always seen this as yours and your Dad's
country. I must admit I’ve always felt like I shouldn't be here.” I
waved away his concerns with a smile.

“
Who cares at the end of the day? I’ve got my house and maybe
once things are straightened out in the States you'll get back to
sending your green troops over for a bit of real
training.”

“
Yeah, maybe.” He wasn't even attempting to look at me now.
His eyes stared through me and there was a tremor in his hands. "I
always meant to ask your Pop a question," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think I just never got round to it. Well, of course,
I never did. The poor guy is dead. What I'm saying is I wish I
had."

"What was the question?" I asked.

"How did he cope?"

"How did he cope?," I said, puzzled. "You mean with the way
things were?"

"Yeah. How did he wake up in a morning and carry on knowing
that everything he loved had gone? Destroyed. Dead. How did he do
it?"

I sensed that Corban wasn't asking a question he expected me
to answer. I felt a little nervous as his eyes glazed over. He was
thinking about America. The question was for him, not my
Dad.

"I never asked," I lied. "He just seemed to get on with
things. He didn't seem to dwell on it much."

"Good for him," he muttered. "Miller - how did he
die?"

The question knocked me for six. I sat there, stunned,
motionless. Deer in the headlights.

"I..."

"He was young when he died, if you think about it. So what
killed him? I always wanted to know. When the report came over the
radio, the operator told me you'd already buried him, that he'd
been dead for three days and it was the grief that kept you from
calling for a medic to deal with the body. Is that
right?"

"Yes," I managed to say. It was the only tiny word that could
get past the blockage in my throat.

"What did he die of? We've no medical report. No autopsy.
Only your verdict. What was your 'medical opinion'?"

"He... just died."

"He 'just' died? Just like that." Corban snapped his fingers
together. "Bam. Gone. Heart attack?"

"No."

"No? How do you know?"

"I know," I said.

"You know? You 'just' know?"

"Yes."

"So I'll ask you again, Miller. How did you Father
die?"

It was my turn to look away, to avoid his staring eyes. I
could see my Dad in his favourite chair, in the library, writing
out one last letter that he sealed in a small brown envelope and
gave me to keep safe. It was addressed to someone in the Ukraine
and I was to deliver it to a soldier who'd visit one day. I only
remembered later, much later. All I could see was the glass of
cloudy white liquid on the table next to him. I remember that it
didn't glisten like whiskey did when the light hit it. In fact, it
looked like it was absorbing the light, sucking it in, drawing the
life from my Dad.

When he'd finished the letter he'd sat back in the chair,
taking the glass in his hand and staring at the fire crackling in
the hearth.

"I love you, son," he'd said. "But it has to be this way. I
don't expect you to understand it now. But one day you will. You
may even want the same thing. If you do, remember what I've done.
My affairs are in order. I'm still of sound mind. I'm still in
control. If I let nature take its course then that'll go. It'll
destroy me very, very slowly and it'll harm you too, having to
watch it happen."

I'd nodded. There were no words in me at that
point.

"I want you to go soon. I want you to go find those kids the
Colonel told you about. In three days I want you to call in my
death. Tell them nothing, they won't understand anyway. Whatever
you do, don't come back in here until they've taken my body - do
you understand?" Nod. "Good. There's nothing more to say, son. It's
time for me to go."

"I love you, Dad," I said.

"I love you too, son."

Corban was still looking at me. "Well?"

"He died. That's all. I'm no doctor. It just seemed right to
bury him in my own way," I said.

"Oh," he replied, turning away. "I just wondered, that's
all."

We both went quiet until the coffee was gone. Then I stood
up, ready to go.

“
I was thinking of maybe being cheeky and asking for a lift
back home," I said. "I don't fancy walking all that way again. I
understand if you can't it's just-”

“
That's not going to be possible, Miller.”

“
Oh, okay, maybe I could just scrounge some-”

“
Miller,” he said, producing a pistol from under the desk.
“You're not going anywhere until you tell me where that bitch
is.”

I raised my hands, palms out. “I don't understand - I’ve told
you, Colonel.”

“
You're lying to me. You see, the problem is you've never been
in the real world. Your Dad had the same problem. He lied too but
it was written all over his face. You don't know how to lie. You've
never lived with anyone but your Dad. You've never had a real job
where you had to lie. Or had a family with kids you have to lie to
all the time. You're not practised in it like we are.” He cocked
the pistol. “So tell me - where is Claudia Riley?”

The first explosion rocked the shipping crate and sent me
sprawling to the floor. Corban fired by accident and the bullet hit
the corner of the ceiling and ricocheted off a strut, passing
inches away from me and burying itself in one of the ammo boxes. I
rolled as the second explosion was heard further away and slammed
into the table sending the hardwood top sliding off the boxes and
into the Colonel. It punched into his stomach and I followed behind
it, smashing a right hook into his jaw. Dazed, he tried to raise
the pistol but I grabbed his wrist and yanked it from his
hand.

“
Tell them you're fine!” I yelled, ramming the barrel of the
gun into his side as the two sentries came in.

“
Sir - are you okay? We're under attack!” said the first as I
helped Corban to his feet, the pistol hidden behind him and buried
in his side.

“
Yeah, yeah, I just-”

“
He hit his head on the way down. Can you get a medic or
something?” I said.

“
Sure, sure.”

The sentry left leaving the other to guard the Colonel. He
tried to mumble something but I jabbed him harder with the
pistol.

“
What's happening?” I asked the soldier.

“
There were two explosions - one near the drill and the other
near the landing strip. I think someone said the helicopter was on
fire. Sir.”

“
Who could it be?” I asked.

“
Don't know yet, sir. I wouldn't want to speculate but we're
on full alert. We'll get them. Sir.”

A third explosion shook the crate and I spun the Colonel
round, clearing my aim for the soldier. I put two rounds into his
chest and he crumpled to the floor. Corban fell too but it looked
like he was finding it hard to stand up anyway.

I went to my knee and put the pistol under his
chin.

“
Why were you hunting Riley?” I asked. Blood dribbled from the
corner of his mouth and he looked like he was about to pass out.
“Why?”

“
She was... supposed to tell us where they were...”

“
Who? Alex?”

“
Yeah, the fucking AWOL and his girl. The fucking Commie.”
Life was coming back to him so I planted my knee in his chest. “She
didn't send the message.”

“
What message?”

“
That she'd found the bunker. She was supposed to tell us
where to look before you got here.”

“
Why?”

“
They're terrorists, Miller. They're fucking terrorists. The
President is dead, most of America is burning. 9/11 looks like a
fucking charity fund-raiser compared to what these fuckers have
done. Millions dead. More dying and Alex Du-fucking-Pont and the
whore started it.”