Project - 16 (8 page)

“
Miller? You in there?” It was Riley and the dead were
probably wondering who'd woken them.

“
Yeah,” I mumbled.

“
The Colonel wants to see us. You decent?” I realised I'd
fallen asleep in my clothes, hammock fashion.

“
Yeah, come in.”

I was momentarily blinded as she swung the door open and let
the morning in. She was carrying a cup of coffee in her hand and
wedged in her mouth was a piece of toast. She bit into it and held
the rest in her free hand.

“
Breakfast is up,” she said, still loud enough to shatter
glass.

“
I'm coming,” I said, gathering up my things and repacking my
bag. Riley watched me with a smirk.

“
Do you live out of that old thing?” she asked, pointing at
the rucksack with the corner of her toast.

“
Sort of,” I replied.

“
It looks fucked, pal.”

“
It's fine.”

“
No, seriously man - it's fucked. Why don't you get one from
the stores or something?”

I stood up and my back cracked almost as loudly as Riley's
talking.

“
Woah!” she cried. “You okay?”

“
Yeah, I just don't do beds.”

“
Really? What the fuck do you sleep on then?”

“
A hammock.” I stepped out into the daylight and slung my pack
over my shoulder. It was cool despite the sun and the line for
breakfast wasn't too long today. I joined it, reaching the orange
juice urn and filling a cup with it. Riley followed, still chewing
her toast and sipping her black coffee.

“
There ain't none,” she said.

“
No what?”

“
Tea, man. Don't you Brits drink tea?”

“
Not all of us,” I replied, looking for the percolator. I
couldn't find one and I realised they were dishing out spoonfuls of
instant instead. I grimaced.

“
Really?”

“
Really.”

The cook behind the grill wasn't the guy from last night and
he gave me a surly glance as he asked me what I wanted. Americans
could do a mean steak but when it came to bacon they seemed to have
dropped the ball. He loaded my plate with thin, streaky rashers of
the stuff - not like the kind I sometimes had at home where the
cuts were as thick as I wanted them to be. He slapped a spoonful of
reconstituted scrambled eggs on one side and a stack of pancakes on
the other, then ushered me onwards.

“
What time did the Colonel want to see us?” I asked, sitting
down.

“
Nine,” she replied. She took the seat next to me and sat
nursing her coffee, fidgeting and constantly turning the cup
clockwise with her fingertips. I suddenly longed for those quiet
moments in the hammock as the sun rose and I put a pot of water on
the stove to boil, listening to the birds high up in the trees
overhead. Quiet moments of peace and a sort of timeless zone where
life made complete sense and you realised that man should never
have left the embrace of the woods and rivers of his ancestral
youth.

“
Fucking cold here, man,” said Riley, pulling the hood of her
jumper up over her woolly hat until it almost covered her eyes.
“I'm freezing my tits off.”

“
Where did you think you were going when the plane took off?”
I asked, my patience suddenly aware of its anorexia.

“
I thought it would be... warmer, maybe a bit wetter. Nobody
mentioned how cold it would be. What is it? About minus 4 or
something?”

“
More like 8 degrees c,” I replied, biting into a rubbery
pancake. It went well with the rubbery bacon that I could use to
resole my boots. Riley was looking at my plate the way a starving
dog might and I shoved it across to her. She took my fork and began
shovelling the stuff into her mouth.

“
You not hungry?” she asked as bits of egg were flung from her
lips across the table.

“
Nah,” I said. “Enjoy.”

I drank my coffee and watched the military engine gear up
into life. There was a lot more order amongst the chaos than there
had been last night and now the prefab buildings were starting to
come apart to be loaded onto flat bed wagons. Cranes were being
driven into position and the steady droning noise of helicopter
rotors could be heard a little way off behind me. Between the
shouted orders and the rhythmic humming of machinery I could hear
Riley's jaw working the bacon and the screech of the fork as it
scraped across the plate. She'd cleared it in a few minutes and I
still had the foul instant coffee left in my cup. She belched under
her breath and patted her flat stomach with a grin.

“
Ready to rock and roll,” she said, getting up. “We'd better
get this show on the road, eh Miller?”

The Colonel was in his office and it didn't look like he'd
left it. There was a dark shadow across his jaw and the mountain of
paper work he'd been ploughing through seemed to have grown. He
gestured to the chairs and carried on scribbling across the pages
with his Biro. I made straight for his coffee machine and tipped
the remains of the instant into his bin before filling it again
with freshly ground goodness.

“
You sleep okay, Miller?” he asked without looking
up.

“
Yes thanks,” I lied. I went in the drawer and found the
biscuits, took two and handed three to Riley along with a cup of
coffee.

“
And you guys ate good?” he asked.

“
Like fucking Kings,” said Riley, kicking back in her chair.
“Like fucking Kings.”

“
Glad to hear it.” The Colonel put his pen down and sat back.
“What happens now?”

“
Miller?” asked Riley.

“
I read the letters...” I began.

“
And?” interrupted the Colonel.

“
I agree, they're looking for something down in that bunker,
whichever one they're in.”

“
There's more than one?” asked Riley.

“
Yes, there's plenty dotted around England. We need to find
out which one - we can't search them all and they won't be
detectable by satellite.”

“
I can see about maps,” said the Colonel. “Though I don't know
how helpful our Intel might be to you.”

“
I'll take what I can get,” I replied. “I may have some other
bits of information at home, maybe from Dad's books.”

“
If anyone knew about those bunkers, your Dad did.”

“
Did he ever mention them?” I asked. “Did he ever need to go
down into one?”

“
I wasn't always in charge of that side of things,” said the
Colonel. “But I don't remember him ever having to. We sure as hell
didn't send him.”

“
The other thing I learned is that the girl's family don't
have a clue about where she is. They think she's in some college or
something when in fact she's here, digging for lost
treasure.”

“
You think that's why they're here? Loot?” asked Riley. I
shook my head.

“
Not loot in that sense - a find, a thing of importance that
they think might help mankind or line their pockets. Whatever it is
they don't want the NSU to find out about it.”

“
I agree with that one,” said the Colonel.

“
That leads me to another point - the girl is
Russian.”

The office went silent until Riley let out a long whistle and
laughed. “He's been banging a fucking NSU slut!” she said. “How did
I miss that?”

“
How do you know?” asked the Colonel, suddenly sitting
forward, all signs of fatigue quickly fading.

“
It's the language, the construction of the sentences. The
English is good - very good, but it isn't her first language. She
tries too hard and it shows.”

“
You speak Russian?” asked Riley.

“
A little,” I lied. My Dad, besides passing on his skills to
me as best he could, also saw the future. Not in some mystical way,
but he had a knack for reading the news, for seeing between the
lines and he predicted the rise of the NSU long before it happened.
Between lessons in English, Geography and bush craft, he often gave
me long discourses on Russian and had me translate books he had in
many different Russian dialects. Again, like some prophet of old,
he'd been on the pulse when the NSU finally rolled its tanks across
most of Europe.

“
This changes things,” said the Colonel.

“
No shit,” said Riley. “This girl is fucking Alex and selling
him down the river.”

“
What do you think, Miller?”

“
I don't know,” I said. “It could be either and I can't tell
from the letters. The fact that her parents know nothing about
this...”

“
Or so she says,” spat Riley.

“
It would go in her favour if it were true. They're both in
this to profit by it and hope no one finds out. On the other hand,
Riley could be right too - it could just be a ploy to win his trust
before stabbing him in the back. Either way, with all due respect,
we need to be moving on this.”

“
I agree,” said the Colonel. “I need you to locate this bunker
and secure it as soon as possible. If she does blab to the NSU,
chances are they'll invade and take control of the
country.”

“
And there won't be anyone to stop them,” I said. “You boys
will be back home.”

“
Believe me, I'd rather be here. The way these reports come in
makes me think we aren't far from the end ourselves. Maybe the NSU
are the only ones who'll come out of this on top.”

“
Maybe,” I said. “You might be right there.”

“
I hope I'm not.” He stood and came from around the back of
his desk, his hand out to me. “Good luck, Miller. And you,
Riley.”

“
Thank you sir,” she said and gave him a salute which he
returned with a smile.

“
I hope you're as good as your file, soldier.”

“
Better, sir. I'm much better.”

Turning to me, he smiled. “Your Dad was one of the good guys
and it looks like it got passed on. I hope we meet again, Miller. I
really do.”

“
Thank you,” I replied, touched by the compliment.

“
Head home. We'll have the documents wired to Riley's
equipment. Anything you need, get it today and get gone - by
tonight most of it will be flying across the Atlantic.”

“
Will do. I hope it works out back there.”

“
I do too.”

3.

We left the office, walking out into the last hours of the
cold morning and saw a more subdued camp but one still busy in
dismantling the mobile force known as the US army. I looked up at
the stars and stripes flapping on its pole in the centre of camp;
the fabric cracking and slapping in the strong winds.

“
I'll get my gear and see the quartermaster. Are you running a
generator out there?” asked Riley.

“
I don't normally but I can if you need the power.”

“
I do,” she said. “I'll be bringing my computer and stuff.
It'll need charging.”

“
Okay. I'll load up the 'Rover and we'll meet again in about
an hour.”

“
Sounds good. Catch you later.” With that she marched away,
drawing looks of longing from the G.Is she passed and falling in
step with another familiar face. I watched her disappear, then I
took my pack to the 'Rover and checked out what I was lacking. The
tanks had been filled without me asking and I suspected the Colonel
was feeling a little guilty for his people pulling out at such a
delicate moment. What would it mean if the NSU did invade? I didn't
have any particular grievance with them - in fact, quite the
opposite. I couldn't know for sure but the Colonel wasn't aware of
the work I'd done for them in the past when their own kids had come
over. I had some contacts with the Russians, but would it help me
if they decided to throw me out? Or worse?

I remembered that I needed some bits and pieces for the
house, just replacement parts and stuff, and there was a list on
the dash which I began adding to, trying hard to plan ahead for
Riley's stay and also the long journey to which ever bunker we were
destined. The fuel couldn't carry us around forever. Sooner or
later we'd be on foot and I tried to make the most of the free
supplies the Colonel had offered.

It was always worth knowing where the QM was on any Army
base. Unlike the mess tent and the accommodation I knew exactly
where to go this time. They'd stuffed the stores' office into one
of those portable shipping containers and there were three more
arranged in perfect parallel lines to it, each one lined with
shelves. I knocked on the door and went in.

“
Morning, Tony,” I said. Tony was another of the old timers,
one of the few people not to be rotated with the other shifts. He
was fifty-ish, greying hair, pot-belly, but above his wide,
alcoholic's nose were a pair of friendly eyes that never failed to
invoke a smile.

“
Hey Miller. How's it going?”

“
Good thanks.”

“
I hear the Colonel filled you in on what's
happening?”