Leviathan (15 page)

“It's hot!” he screamed. “Don't come any closer!”

“
What!” Barley shouted, stopping in place along with the entire team. They stood more than twenty feet away.

Face twisted, Connor rose, bending to one side. Making a great and dramatic display of trembling hands, he took out a high-powered circuit tester, a formidable black box that had been the scariest thing he could come up with for the stunt. Then he glanced ominously at the soldiers, the steel walkway.
“If you get hit with the current, try to reach the calcite,” he warned. “If you get off quick enough, it might not kill you.”

Choosing not to wait for that, two of the soldiers jumped onto the calcite. But Barley nervously held his ground.
“What is it?” he whispered.

Connor answered,
“A wire grounded out.”

Tentatively, he reached into the box, touching a circuit.

“Don't kill yourself, Connor!”

“
The circuit grounded into the walkway,” Connor gasped, moving with infinite caution. “I got hit pretty bad. I don't know if this new breaker is going to be enough ... or
not
!”

Connor felt in the box, narrowly watching Barley shift. The lieutenant's hands were tight
on the M-16. Finally, Connor released a breath. “It's gonna hold,” Connor said, turning and leaning against the wall as Barley ran up, grabbing his arm. The lieutenant's muscular face glistened with sweat.

“
You gonna be okay, Connor?”

“
Yeah, I got off it pretty quick. I've been hit with a 440 before ... but ... but I think it hurt me this time.”

Barley glanced with cautious distance into the box. Looked back at Connor.
“Is it fixed?”

“
Yeah. I think so.”

“
Thank God,” Barley said, “I thought that...” He cast an angry glance toward the Containment Cavern before looking abruptly at Connor, but Connor ignored it. He left the coil of wire lying on the ground, walked away.

“
I've got to get checked out,” he said, moving painfully up the tunnel. Overcome by his own theatrics, he fell into a slight limp. “I don't like the way that felt.”

“
Yeah,” Barley said, glancing again at the box. “Do whatever you need to do, man.”

Connor waved, walked away. Wounded.

But he knew now what he needed to know. He had seen the guns, the sandbags – the rest. An entire platoon of heavily armed soldiers moving frantically to throw themselves down with a desperate aim. But they hadn't been aiming up the tunnel, as if to keep something out. They had been aiming dead at the cavern's steel-reinforced door.

To keep something in.

* * *

Connor entered the Ice Station's Communications Center to find Beth angry and concentrated, leaning over a computer panel. Her dark eyes were focused, her mouth grim.

“Beth,” he whispered, “we need to talk. I've got to—”

“
Not now, Connor.” She didn't even look up. “Something has happened to the communications link with SAT-COM.” She typed quickly into a computer keyboard: https:\\www.fed.world.gov.

The screen displayed: ACCESS DENIED.

A silent curse twisted her lips. “What is going on here? We can't contact anybody!” She turned to glare at the four assistant civilian dispatchers. “Did any of you perform a systems scan for a viral interface?”

Heads were shaken. Apparently, everyone was as confused as she was. When Beth turned back to the computer screen her mind was visibly racing behind her dark Italian eyes.

“Beth, listen to me for—”

“
Just a second, Connor.” She typed quickly: http:\\sat.com.wea-rep.gov.

Reply: ACCESS DENIED.

Beth leaned back, staring down. “This is all wrong. Why can’t we get a National Weather System report? What has hit this system?” A subdued pause. “This is just absolutely not right, Connor.”

“
Beth,” he said, reaching out to gently grip her arm, “we have to talk right now!”

A deep, calculating expression that was almost no expression at all settled over her face before she nodded. Then she leaned over the machine again, typing with infinite care: C: DOWNLOAD ALL INCOMING KEYBOARD STROKES FOR SATELLITE RELAY: DURING LAST24HRS.A.B.C

A short pause, then a Clay began blinking continuously. Connor had no idea what she had done. When she turned to Connor she was solid and concentrated, but he still saw a faint flash of fear.

“
What's happening, Connor? Somebody or something has shut down the entire Communications Center. We can't talk to anyone. Anywhere. And no one can talk to us. We can't even talk to the cavern.”

Connor leaned forward.
“Beth, I think we're all in serious danger. Something is very wrong in the cavern.”

She stared, blinked.
“What?”

Because Connor knew she was strong enough to handle almost anything, he said it plainly.
“Beth, I think that those idiots have created something down there that is very, very dangerous. And it's out of control. That's why they've shut down the Communications Center. They've probably put some kind of lockout code inside the relay because they're afraid that the ground crew is about to discover what's going on, and one of us will panic and call for help. Then the whole world is going to know what's going on here.”

Beth's teeth gritted as she shook her head.
“But . . . but shutting down this Communications Center is stupid, Connor! All the phone lines in the cavern are routed through this place! If someone's tampered with the satellite relay they couldn't help but shut down the—” Without a second's hesitation she snatched up a phone, listening. Set it down again. Her face was almost pale. “It's dead. All the lines are dead.”

Connor glanced over her sh
oulder to see the assistant dispatchers working without result to clear up the system. His voice was low. “We've got to get off this island, Beth. As fast as we can.”

She glanced out the window of the center, toward the dock.
“Can we use one of the boats?”

“
No. I've already been down there. The cruisers are being guarded by those MPs, but I managed to get on board with the excuse that the cruisers held dangerous chemicals that needed electrical maintenance. But while I was there I found that the ships have been mechanically disabled. It's simple stuff, really—could probably fix it in an hour. But I can't get an hour. They'll arrest me if I try. And none of my men can fly one of the military choppers.”

“
Which leaves us with what?”

“
The North Atlantic Sea Patrol,” Connor responded. “They can get here inside two hours if we can contact them. They'll bring a cruiser big enough to get all of us off the island.”

Bowing her head, Beth was motionless for a moment. Then
she looked up, dark fire flashing in her eyes. “Then I'm going to try and break this code and send out a distress, Connor. I’m going to contact the Sea Patrol for an emergency airlift of this facility.”

“
How are you going to do that?”

She glanced contemptuously at the panel, shook her head.
“I don't know what these fools have done, Connor. But I guarantee you they can't outthink me. I’m not going to let them put my child in this kind of danger! I'll smash this security code to pieces!” She studied it. “But it might take time. Maybe more time than we have. We've got to have another plan, Connor. You've got to reach Thor's tower and use his shortwave. It's not linked to this system and it might connect with Iceland.”

Connor frowned.
“Beth, Thor's tower is on the north coast of the island. That's almost forty miles away. Even if I take a Jeep down the dry glacier road and don't wipe out in Funstaf Ravine, it's still a two-hour drive. A lot could happen before I get back to—”

“
That doesn't matter, Connor!”

Connor grimaced, staring.
“All right, Beth. I'll go for the tower. But I don't want you going head to head with these military maniacs while I'm gone. Do you understand? I want you to do everything low-key!”

Beth glanced at the communications terminal, and her voice almost cracked with rage.
“Yeah, Connor, I'll be discreet. I'm downloading incoming keystrokes during the last twenty-four hours to see what happened.” She paused. “If these people are monitoring the system they could still get wise to what I’m doing. But that's just a risk we've got to take.” She looked up at him. “Both of us.”

Connor leaned forward.
“Just be careful, Beth. Stay calm and very, very careful. Don't lose your temper. And don't let anyone else know what you're doing.”

Her face was steady against his chest.
“I won't,” she whispered.

Connor kissed her on the forehead.

“I'll be back in four hours. Two hours over and two hours back. Send someone in your crew to take Jordan from the day care center and keep him at the house. Make up some excuse to cover it.”

Beth nodded, raising her face to reveal an essence that was intuitive and intimate and frightening. Her voice was a low whisper that Connor had learned long ago to deeply respect.

“Something horrible is happening, Connor. I can feel it.”

Connor nodded, grim.

“I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Connor left the Communications Building in a thinly veiled rush. He wanted to warn the crew, but he wasn't sure what kind of panic it would cause or what kind of military retaliation would be executed so he said nothing, playing for discretion.

Without speaking to anyone at all, Connor climbed into a Jeep and he immediately gunned the engine. But as he put the vehicle in gear he was somehow touched, touched by something close, deep, and familiar, and he looked carefully across the Housing Complex to see...

Jordan.

His small son was standing alone in the crimson light, a lonely, solitary shape poised on the steps of the small day care center. He stared at Connor and smiled, raising his hand into the air, fingers spread wide. “I always want to be with you.”

Pain twisting his face, Connor raised his hand to the air to hold it high and strong, and he saw Jordan laugh, smiling in joy. Then Connor looked down, ignited by a silent rage that blazed white-hot in his heart into a single dominating thought: If
you do anything to harm my boy, I'll kill you. I'll kill every one of you.

The Jeep's engine was wild and hoarse and roaring as Connor went through the open gate.

But the rage came from Connor's soul.

* * *

Chapter 11

Connor's Jeep slid to a stop at the base of Thor's tower. Connor took the steps three at a time to enter the cylindrical chamber at the top without announcement

Dressed in a coarse woolen white shirt, Thor sat behind a crude oak desk with a fire roaring in the hearth. The giant Norseman held a long, feathered ink pen in his hand, parchment spread on the table before him. He regarded Connor's entrance without surprise.

“We're in serious trouble,” Connor said.

Thor nodded.
“I know.”

Connor didn't know how to receive that answer so he moved on.
“When they put you here on the island, didn't they leave you a shortwave radio so that you could call for help?”

“
Yes.” Thor replied quickly. “A radio. It is not much. But it is strong enough to access the North Atlantic Sea Patrol maritime frequencies.”

“
Good. We've got to get off this island as fast as possible. All of us. We don't have any time to waste.”

Thor was immediately on his feet and Connor saw that he was wearing his customary leather pants and sealskin boots. Without hesitation the giant moved to a large chest, opening the top. He lifted a dusty, very primitive-looking radio from within. He set it on the desk and ran a wire to the single electrical outlet bracketed to the stone wall, plugging it in.

“I will start the generator,” Thor rumbled, moving to the door. “I use it for light sometimes.”

Connor pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the radio, a 1960s-era shortwave. He read the frequency band—3,000 kilo-hertz.
“Great,” he muttered. “It doesn't get any weaker than that.”

He heard the gas-operated generator start up in the lower level of the tower, and he twisted the power output to maximum, watched the power red-line. He opened the receiver, twisting the signal dial to test frequencies. He received only a haze of static crackling, overloading. In another moment Thor came through the doorway, watching expectantly.

“Does it usually sound like this?” Connor asked, sweating in the heat of the room.

“
No.” Thor shook his head. “I used it once when I broke my leg in a fall. It was not like that.”

For another long moment Connor twisted the dials, receiving nothing but haze.
“This isn't right,” he said. “They must be using some kind of electromagnetic countermeasure. They're jamming the signal.”

“
Yes. They would do that.” Thor paused. “Tell me what I can do.”

“
We need a boat,” Connor whispered. He flipped the radio on its face, quickly removing the screws on the back. “I've got to get Beth and Jordan and the rest of my crew off this island. And you, too. Something is very wrong in that cavern, and I don't think any of us are safe here.” A pause. “I know we're not.”

Connor tossed the back of the radio aside like a Frisbee.

Thor asked, “If they are jamming the frequency, what can you do?”

“
Blast through it. That's the easiest way to defeat it. All they're doing is throwing a lot of cross-current electromagnetic activity into the air. But we've got something on our side. We're pretty far from the Ice Station and we've got the mountains between us and the base, so that's going to cut off some of their signal. But then again, this old radio doesn't have much power.” He glanced around. “Do you have any wire?”

“Wire?” Thor scowled.

“
Yeah, wire.”

“
What kind of wire?”

“
Any
kind of wire.”

Without a word Thor turned, descending the stairs. And Connor was working on the back of the radio again, removing a transistor. He uncoiled the wire wrapped around the
loop stick, stretching two feet of it from the back. Then he looked around Thor's chamber, saw an empty aluminum foil package. Quickly he wrapped the foil tightly around the loop stick wire and tore off another piece of foil to connect both transistors. He knew that the aluminum around the transistors would allow for a slightly higher flow of electricity, and the aluminum wrapped around the loop-stick would intensify the frequency.

Trying to recall everything he had learned about shortwave radios during electronics school, Connor removed the mesh cover from the microphone and disconnected the ground and hot wires. Then he used his knife to strip the insulation from the hot wire and attached it to the handle of Thor's cast-iron frying pan. Last, he stripped the insulation from the ground wire and laid the wire to the side. Now, he knew, whenever he touched the ground wire close to the iron handle beside the hot wire, there would be a short, intensified blast of Morse code. And that was exactly what he needed, because where electromagnetic jamming could confuse a multiplexing frequency like a voice, a single-pulse frequency like Morse code could usually be blasted through. Thor entered the chamber, holding an old coil of electrical wiring in his hands. His face was amazed, as if he had shocked himself by finding it.

“That's good enough,” Connor said. Instantly he began stripping the rubber insulation from the dusty coil of 14-gauge wire.

“
What are you doing?” Thor whispered intensely, bending forward.

“
I'm setting up a broad wave antenna. They used to call it a whip antenna in the old days.”

“
Why?”

“
Because a whip antenna will throw a hard signal in a straight direction instead of just sending it out all over the place. The whip will give the Morse code better range and power.” Connor glanced out a long rectangular window. “Which direction is Reykjavik?”

“
It is there.” Thor pointed inland.

Connor stared.
“What?”

Thor nodded.
“Yes, Connor, Reykjavik is to the south. We must broadcast back over the island and the mountains in order to reach it. We will have to broadcast through the Ice Station and the jamming. If we put the signal straight out to the ocean, we will be sending it into the Arctic Circle.”

For a moment Connor was silent. In his urgency he hadn't even thought of that.
“What about oil tankers?” he asked. “Or ice breakers? Would we reach one if we sent the signal into the Arctic Circle?”

“
Only in the spring. Icebergs make the area too dangerous for shipping this time of year.”

A grimace contorted Connor's face. Without another word he bent the wire in half, leaving two ten-foot strands. He attached the center of the V to the unwired loop
stick and the capacitor. Thirty seconds later he had stretched out the two bare lines of wire to attach them to the bookcase beside the opposite side of the chamber. The antenna was aimed over the mountains and Ice Station.

“
All right,” he said quickly. “Go downstairs and crank up the generator to full blast.”

“
All the way to 220 volts?'‘

“
Yeah. Turn it up all the way.”

With a curt nod Thor vanished and Connor twisted the dial to the Maritime Emergency Frequency, a channel reserved by international law for sea disasters. Then he lifted the ground wire, holding it by a piece of rubber insulation that he had saved from the antenna. Ail dials on the radio maxed out, and Connor heard the generator roaring even louder on the lower level. Instantly he began sending the SOS signal, three quick beeps and three long followed by three quick. He continued it for thirty seconds before pausing.

Thor stood in the doorway.

Connor listened intently, motionless. The scent of overheating circuits filled the room and he sent the signal out again, quicker this time, hitting the ground wire as clearly as he could manage before listening to the receiver. With a loud humming, a thin spiral of smoke drifted up from the capacitor. Connor heard a crackling and then there was a faint response of Morse code, almost undetectable beneath the jamming static.

“We got 'em!” Connor yelled.

“
Give them our location!” Thor said, staggering a step into the room.

Quickly Connor hit the ground wire against the steel and then an explosion shattered the shortwave, transistors blowing shards of glass into the air with a white-green blast of electric flame. Connor had instantly let go of the wire to throw his forearm across his face, and Thor yelled, leaping to the side to snatch the plug from the outlet.

Stunned silence; the harsh scent of burned circuits blackening the air. Waves crashed along the shore as Thor gazed down on the shortwave. He said nothing as Connor lowered his forearm, both of them watching the still glowing circuits of the capacitor fading quickly from orange to gray, to black. Still staring at the radio, Connor stood up. He was motionless for a second before he caught a deep breath.

“
Well... that's it.”

Thor grimaced.
“We can bring Beth and Jordan to the tower. I will protect them until you can find a means of transport. They will be safer here than at the Ice Station.”

Connor was abruptly struck by the fact that Thor had never asked what the danger was. He looked intently at the red-bearded face and then, drawn by a strange, changing focus, he noticed a gigantic, double-bladed battle-ax hung high above the stone fireplace.

Twin-bladed, each crescent slab of sharpened steel as wide as Connor's chest, the battle-ax seemed to glow, strange and subdued, with a fantastic war scene exquisitely engraved upon the side, a scene that intrigued Connor despite everything else that was happening.

Connor felt an eerie sensation as he studied the image, the image of a great, fiery dragon with wings as wide as the universe itself, viciously locked in battle with a heroic, winged figure that grimly held the dragon's hideous head, struggling breath to breath.

Wrestling in the stars, the two gigantic warrior figures were exquisitely embroidered into the side of the battle-ax with uncountable smaller figures battling beneath them.

Despite Connor's rush, he was struck by the image and the vague feeling of power it invoked. There was something distinctly ancient and forgotten in the scene, something that gave an Old Testament sensation. Connor blinked to shake himself from the distraction as Thor leaned over him. The giant's hand had settled on his shoulder.

“We will discover what the danger is,” the Norseman rumbled. “Perhaps it is not what we think, my friend. That would be unlikely. A man's imagination can do many things.”

“
Maybe,” Connor replied, turning his attention from the ax. “But I'm not taking any chances with my family. So you stay here and I'll bring Beth and Jordan this afternoon. I want them here until I can get all of us off this island.”

“
I will make arrangements. They will be comfortable.”

“
I'll be back in four hours.” Connor moved to the door, pausing. “And keep an eye out, partner. I've got a real bad feeling about this.”

* * *

A doubled guard stood at the gate when Connor reentered the Ice Station. Although the entrance was usually a perfunctory ritual, this time the Rangers motioned for Connor to step down from the Jeep. Connor readily complied. They directed him into the guard's shack, where Barley
was waiting. The muscular lieutenant looked morose.

Connor stared at him.

“Well, what is it, Barley?”

Barley shook his head.
“This place has gone weird, Connor. I don't know how else to say it.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Blake is really messed up, man. He went ballistic when he received a report of your fixin' the breaker box. I ain't never seen anything like it. It was unreal. Things are tight in the cavern, buddy.”

“
That's not my problem, Barley. That's military.”

“
You're right about that,” he replied. “But there's something else. Blake wanted to know where you went when you left the base. He was zooming, Connor. Like he was on drugs or something. Just crazy. And there was some kind of rat-faced Russian dude with him. And ... I hate to tell you about this, man, but we had a wild scene at the Communications Center. And Beth was right in the middle of it.”

Connor said nothing, freezing on Barley.

Barley raised his hands. “I didn't have anything to do with it, Connor! I wasn't even there!”

“
What happened, Barley?”

The lieutenant shook his head, as if shocked.
“It was wild, Connor. It went down about an hour ago, when Blake and that inbred Russian goon came up to the surface with his squad of MPs. They went straight to the Communications Center and accused Beth of doing something with the computer system. Like I said, I wasn't there, but I heard that it was a real ugly confrontation. That crazy Blake was in Beth's face and Beth wouldn't back down. She told 'em off, boy, and I heard it was ugly. Then the Russian made a move like he was going to do something to Beth, so she smashed him across the face with a keyboard. Sent him flying.”

Barley paused, took a deep breath.
“And then it was pure pandemonium, man. I mean pure pandemonium. Blake was screaming for more MPs, for all his MPs, but Beth wasn't going anywhere! And then the fight was on! And to make it even worse, a bunch of your electrical guys saw Blake beating up on Beth and they went ballistic! Your boys grabbed chains and two-by-fours and four-by-fours and everything else they could find and charged into the Communications Center to help her.” He hesitated, fatigue on his face. “Before it was over, fifty of your construction guys went nose to nose with almost all of Blake's MPs and, son, let me tell you something. It was a no-holds-barred, full-blown, head-bustin', backbreaking fiasco from beginning to end. The Communications Center is demolished. And I honestly think that your guys would have won in the end if Blake hadn't pulled out his .45 and fired a full clip into the ceiling.”