Running Blind (16 page)

27

A somber young MP with the lean, carved look of a hardened military cop pulled up beside Coop, stepped out of the vehicle, and asked to see their credentials. Coop gave him credit; the guy managed to check his double take when he saw the Bombshell. She had that effect on men even when she wasn't decked out in heels and a short, tight skirt.

When the MP was satisfied that they were legit, he loaded their bags into the shotgun seat, and indicated that they should sit in the rear. Without another word, he climbed behind the wheel, shifted into gear, and gunned the motor.

“Mr. Personality he's not,” Coop whispered close to Rhonda's ear, hoping to ease some of her tension as they raced down the tarmac.

Apparently, Rhonda was too cold to appreciate his efforts. The side curtains were up in deference to the winter weather, but at six thousand feet, the air was brittle. And considering the light skiff of white on the runway, a snowfall wasn't out of the question, either.

Beside him, she huddled inside her jacket as the Humvee roared up out of the lake bed and onto a well-traveled road. Dead ahead, a large, low structure sat alone, like a big solitary rock in the middle of a sand beach.

Though it looked like a run-of-the-mill warehouse, Coop knew better.

Beneath that tin roof was a fortress. The exterior security reinforced that conclusion. No-fly zone. Both marked and unmarked security teams. Barbed-wire fencing, air horns, floodlights—and he'd spotted a couple of discreetly placed surveillance cameras. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if they had parabolic micro­phones hidden in the scant foliage on the desert floor.

So much for Groom Lake being decommissioned as a top secret R&D facility.

More proof that he was right came when the MP pulled up in front of the building and didn't have to announce their arrival. A heavy metal door instantly opened, and another MP stepped outside.

He also asked to see their creds and handed them back when he was satisfied.

Overkill. More confirmation that something hinky was going on.

He said, “Follow me, please.”

“Wait.” Rhonda looped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “What about our bags?”

“You'll find them in your quarters.”

“Our quarters?” Rhonda mouthed to Coop, looking wary.

That they were expected to stay here was a surprise to him, too. He gave her a subtle head shake as they followed the MP inside.

The first level of interior security was what Coop expected in a high-value target facility, more corroboration that more was going on here than the world had been led to believe by Uncle Sam.

Access was via a two-factor authentication. They were asked to press their index fingers against a biometric reader mounted on the wall, and then a middle-aged woman, as drab and austere as the gray-on-gray interior, took their photos and walked back behind her desk.

“Spooky,” Rhonda said. Even though she was no stranger to covert security measures and knowing that arrangements had to have been made in advance for their fingerprints to be available to the biometric reader, it was clear she was still rattled.

“That's spooks for ya,” Coop said, and actually got a little smile.

He handed the sealed envelope to the clerk. “This is for your security chief.”

She took it, looked it over, and noting the DOD seal on the corner of the envelope, disappeared through a door at the rear of her small cubicle.

“Another friendly soul,” Rhonda whispered with an eye roll.

Less than five minutes later, the clerk returned. “Lieutenant Dodd will be with you in a moment.”

She didn't invite them to sit. Coffee from the pot on a small utility cart beside her desk wasn't offered, either.

Coop was about to ask for a cup when the cubicle door opened.

A tall, slim man with laser-sharp eyes and an Air Force uniform, so crisply pressed you could have cut paper on the crease, honed in on Coop, then on Rhonda. He didn't say a word to either of them.

“Full-access cards,” he told the clerk. He handed the letter back to Coop with a look that smacked of disdain and then disappeared through the door.

Rhonda looked at him questioningly.

“Later,” he mouthed, and they waited for the clerk to do her thing.

Several minutes later, they both had personal photo ID badges and total-access key cards, making them officially legit. In addition, they each had an orientation packet that was no doubt standard operating procedure for anyone visiting the facility.

“Thank you, Helen,” Coop said politely, after reading the badge clipped to the breast pocket of her navy-blue uniform shirt.

Helen grunted and returned to work on her computer.

The MP materialized again out of nowhere. “This way, please.”

They followed him down a short, brightly lit gunmetal-­gray hallway, the same gray as on the concrete floors and ceiling. At the end of the hall, a thick, heavy door was flanked by twin cameras suspended from the ceiling.

“Fingerprint and key card, please.”

Though it might seem like overkill, since they'd already been admitted inside the building, this additional measure was a fail-safe to ensure that both the outside access door and the interior access doors couldn't be opened at the same time.

They followed the MP's actions, standing in front of yet another camera for what Coop knew was a photo comparison. This final measure ensured that only the people who were supposed to be inside got inside, for the length of time they were supposed to be inside, based on what their business was. If a janitor showed up in a server farm or a secretary made an appearance in the logistics room, where neither would have any business being, you could bet that alarm bells would blast your eardrums, and the security guards would have the place locked down within seconds.

What Coop had seen so far was exactly the way he'd have set up this place. It made him itch to see the rest of the facility.

The MP opened a door to a small, sterile room, then stood back and waited for them to step inside. “This room has been made available to you for the duration of your stay. Should you need additional resources, make your needs known at the admissions desk. The commissary is on level five, as are your temporary living quarters.” Then he left and closed the door behind him.

“Suppose he's got a lot of friends on Facebook?” Coop mulled as he walked over to the closed door and tested it, half-expecting it to be locked.

“Like
you've
got friends on Facebook?”

“I don't need Facebook.” He grinned at her. “I've got charm.”

“Just hand me that zip drive.”

She'd sat down on one of two metal folding chairs at a bare-bones gray table, on which sat a state-of-the-art computer and a printer.

“Sure you want to end the suspense?”

She snorted and held out her hand. When he handed over the drive, she plugged it into a port. “So what's the deal with all the hostility?” she asked while she waited for it to open up.

“Could have something to do with this letter.” He held out the letter that had been returned to him by the lieutenant.

“Just nutshell it for me,” she said.

“It's from the secretary of defense. Sec Def issued the lieutenant orders to give us unrestricted access to his security plan, the facility, computers, network, and anything else we need.”

“Doesn't explain why he's so hostile.”

“Do you like someone checking on your work?”

She thought about that. “Not so much, no.”

“Well, there you go.”

When the file finally opened, Rhonda said, “It's a Word document, encrypted with ITAP code.”

“Sweet. A letter from home.” And it was exactly that.

•    •    •

The letter was from Nate Black. After they read it, Cooper sat back and assessed her reaction.

Rhonda was pretty sure that he saw shock.

“So. We're here to complete a level ten security analysis,” he said.

She blinked at him. “And according to Nate's letter, we can't know what, specifically, we're to ensure is adequately secured or why there's a reason for concern about security. Nothing like working with a blindfold and handcuffs.”

“Nicely put.” He sounded equally amused and frustrated.

“Is this kind of secrecy typical on a field test?”

“Yeah, if we're tasked with poking holes in the security of a project that's so hush-hush that only the president, key members at the Pentagon, the secretary of defense, and those directly involved with the development, testing, and delivery of the project are in the know.”

Unbelievable. “And this happens often?”

“You're familiar with the phrase ‘once in a blue moon'?”

She had to let that settle. And gather herself. “So it's never happened before?”

“Nope.”

She was as puzzled as she was shocked. “Why detour
us
here to do a security analysis for a project that's cloaked in this much secrecy and not let us know what we're supposed to protect? And why now?”

She must have sounded a little hysterical, because Cooper looked at her with a hint of a grin.

“This is not funny,” she said.

“It is if you're expecting answers. I'm as much in the dark as you are.”

“But you've got some ideas. I know you do.”

Oh, yeah. And as he sat there, his brows pinched in thought, she knew he had a really good idea.

“Tell me,” she said.

“Just speculation, okay? But here's what I think. The whole place is infested with private and military security, right? Some to verify IDs and others to look menacing. But since we were allowed to land, that means we'd already been cleared to be here. So why all the extra precautions?”

She didn't like where this was going.

“Let's say,” he continued, “that they've got this supersecret project in the works. Maybe they've just started it and want to get ahead of the game, security-wise, and they want a thorough analysis from someone outside the loop.”

“Is that what you think?”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don't know.”

“Give me another scenario.”

It didn't take him long to come up with one. “Okay . . . maybe this ‘project' is well into the completion phase, and they're getting jumpy and want to make sure that there's no possibility of a security breach.”

“Or maybe there's been a leak,” she said, feeling sick to her stomach. She'd played this spy game before, when she was at the NSA. “Maybe they're afraid the bad guys are on to their top secret project. Or maybe the bad guys
are
on to it, and NSA picked up some cyber-chatter about an attack plan and labeled it an imminent threat.”

He was quiet for a long moment, long enough that she became aware of the constant flow of stale air moving through the small room. “You may be on to something there,” he finally said. “Apparently, this security check was scheduled for next week. But Nate's letter said DOD stepped it up a week because they'd picked up some chatter that concerned them.”

When she managed to speak, she sounded much calmer than she felt. “He couldn't have told us this before?”

“That's how we operate. Apparently, there was no need to know until this morning.”

This bit of team protocol failed to settle her down, and Cooper seemed to notice.

“Look, there's a huge difference between concern, a credible threat, and an imminent threat. There's no ‘imminent' in this letter. ITAP is the top dog when it comes to security threat analysis, but Nate would warn us if he thought we were biting off more than we could chew. He'd never put any of our team in that position. And the Pentagon wouldn't put a sensitive project in that position.”

“I realize ITAP's status, but I'm a rookie. Why not call in B.J. or Steph to analyze cyber-threats? Why not the entire ITAP and Black team?”

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don't think you can handle it?”

“Of course, I can handle it.” Once again, he'd gotten her to rise to his bait, damn it.

“Well, then, there's your answer. Nate clearly thinks so, too. And so do I.”

28

“As the first order of business”—Coop clipped his access key card to his jacket—“let's take the grand tour.”

The extensive briefing package from Helen contained a lot of useless information. How many bathrooms, how many meals served a day, blah, blah, blah. But one piece was actually useful: a fairly detailed and comprehensive map of each floor that ID'd everything from elevators and emergency stairwells to each floor's function.

While Coop knew Rhonda was still uneasy, he also knew she'd cowgirl up and do her job. There was no bigger turn-on than a woman who felt vulnerable but refused to give in to it.

And there was no bigger fool than a man who let a distraction—no matter how demanding—interfere with his job.

So he was all business as they walked back down the hallway.

“According to this site map, besides monitoring new arrivals, the security station on this level monitors all five levels for unauthorized persons and facility breaches. Isn't that right, Helen?” Coop asked as they reached her desk.

Still as prickly as a cactus, Helen gave him a crisp nod in reply.

“Are there surveillance cameras capable of monitoring every area of the building?” Rhonda asked.

“Not all areas. Some projects are too top secret. They don't want cameras on them.”

Coop laid the map on Helen's desk. “Point out for me exactly where those particular areas are.”

“Here,” she said reluctantly. “Level four.”

“You're too good to me, Helen. Thanks again.”

After going through the access protocol to gain admittance to another hallway, they found the bank of elevators they needed. Before going to level four, though, they made a stop on level two, the first sub­terranean level of the building.

“According to the map,” Rhonda said, “this level contains more administrative offices.”

“We all know how the government runs on paperwork.”

“And the computers on this level support the equipment for running the physical plant—­electrical, cooling and heating, plumbing, communication. Looks like it also connects with surveillance aboveground.”

The second level was a clone of level one, as Coop suspected all of the subterranean floors would be. The construction was poured concrete, more government-­gray walls, and highly polished floors. The minuscule attempts at circumventing the unrelenting drabness amounted to a few neutral paintings and the occasional motivational poster.

The ceilings were covered with pipes and wire runs. Cameras blinked at every corner and doorway. He noted the emergency lighting system, the periodic fire extinguishers and water sprinklers.

At the back of level two was a stairway that he suspected connected every floor, no doubt used for emergency evacuation. He made a note to check to make certain that once someone vacated the building via the emergency door, it shut behind them and couldn't be opened from the outside. So the only way to get back into the building was through the front entry door.

Next to the emergency exit was a freight elevator large enough to move a variety of equipment.

“This is what I want to see,” Rhonda said as they stepped out of the elevator on the third level. Level three was a server farm containing computers housed in multiple layers of racks. “Amazing,” she said, sounding awed.

Besides the racks of computers, Coop recognized servers and supercomputers. “Overkill?” he suggested, tongue in cheek, as they walked through the floor.

“Oh, no. You've got to have a lot of computational power to design and do virtual testing of complex prototypes. And these bad boys are also tied into every­thing from the surveillance cameras, to the commissary inventory, to the power grid. They've got fail-safes in place, as each floor has its own network. But it's all wired through this farm, with override capabilities built in.”

“Do you ever think they're going to take over the world?”

He'd hoped she'd grin, and she did.

“Level four,” Coop announced once they were back on the elevator. “The labs where the brains design their supersecret toys and a major-league testing area with simulators to test them. Hence the camera-shy supersecret rooms.”

“Do you suppose some of these sections are off limits even to us?” Rhonda asked as they did a quick walk-through.

Coop paused at a door marked “No Admittance.” “Not according to these badges.”

She tried her pass key and was denied access. “Try yours.”

He was watching the red light that had blinked on above the door after Rhonda inserted her key. “It's not going to work. But I'm pretty sure it launched—”

Two security guards materialized from around a corner and raced toward them, M16s shouldered.

“—a code red,” Coop finished, obeying their shouted orders by lifting his hands in the air and pressing his face against the wall.

•    •    •

It took a few minutes to sort things out with the guards, who finally left them with a caution.

“Do not to attempt to access
any
area marked ‘No Admittance,' because it means exactly what it says.”

“We were granted total access,” Coop pointed out.

“If the president himself showed up with his Secret Service agents,
he
wouldn't be allowed inside, either.”

Rhonda's lips had paled nearly as light as her skin as she watched the security unit leave. Her hand shook as she raked it unsteadily through her hair.

“First pat-down at gunpoint?” Coop asked cheerfully.

She glared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Actually, it was supposed to be funny.”

“What
is
it with you?” she asked grumpily. “Why aren't you rattled? How can you always make jokes in bad situations?”

“Because that's how I get through the rough parts,” he said, serious now. “You'll figure out your own way of coping.”

“The hell I will. I don't
do
guns and bullets. I do algorithms and encrypted code and pentesting.”

He didn't point out that for someone who preferred a mother board to a water board, she'd been in some pretty dicey situations lately. The fact was, for her sake, he didn't like the danger factor, either. Which was why he wanted to get this gig done and get out of here yesterday.

“What do you think's in there?” she asked, making a credible effort to pull herself together.

“Well, it wouldn't be practical to house an underground wind tunnel, especially when there's most likely one on the AFB, so we can rule that out. Same thing for building the really big stuff; you need to get materials in and out, power the machine tools, et cetera. You don't want to build an airplane down here, then have to knock out the walls to get it out.”

“So?”

“So I'm betting it's a bunker, housing a major-league testing area.”

“For whatever supersecret project we were sent here to protect but that we can't know about,” she surmised.

“Yup. For something like that.” He stared at the sealed door. “We need to get in there.”

She cut him a horrified look. “No, we don't. In the first place, I don't want to know what's behind those doors. Someone might have to kill me if I found out. Second, if we were meant to be in there, we'd have been given access.”

“You think anyone trying to steal it is going to give two figs about access?”

She had nothing to say about that.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's go to level five and check out our temporary housing.”

“I don't want to stay here. I want a hotel. Preferably in the next state.” There was the pouty look that he'd come to know and enjoy.

“I'm hungry, and I think better on a full stomach,” he coaxed. “Come on. We've got to work out a plan of action, then do our job and get the heck back to Langley.”

•    •    •

Besides the cafeteria lined with long rows of tables, a complete kitchen, and vending machines, level five appeared to be where back files, old equipment, and miscellaneous furniture went to collect dust. It also provided housing for the building's environmental systems—heating, cooling, and water purification.

The living quarters were furnished with typical government-issue surplus. From the single bunks to the communal showers, a Hilton it wasn't.

But the food was surprisingly good.

“You'd better eat that.” He nodded toward her lunch tray. She'd selected soup and a sandwich and coffee, but the only thing she'd touched was the coffee. “It might be a while before we eat again. You need your strength.” He was starting to get a bad feeling about this assignment. Starting? Hell, he'd had a bad feeling ever since he'd talked to Nate this morning.

“How many people do you suppose staff this building?” she asked, instead of eating.

“Tell you what, you eat your lunch, then I'll let you plop yourself down at that computer, and you can hack into the system and find that information for us.”

“What makes you think I can hack into the system?”

He leaned across the table to whisper, “The same thing that makes me think you had your first screaming orgasm last night.”

He loved shocking her. He might have overdone it this time, though. Fire shot from her eyes, and her face flamed. He was pretty sure that if there hadn't been staff in the cafeteria, she'd have laid into him.

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. “It just came out.”

Her hand shook with rage when she brushed her hair back from her face. “We could be bugged.”

He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen that wasn't a pen. “This little gizmo would have told me if there was a bug within ten yards of us.”

“That doesn't excuse you.”

“True,” he agreed. “But it did accomplish what I wanted.”

“To piss me off?”

He grinned. “To get you to stop obsessing about our assignment for a few minutes. Worked, didn't it?”

She blinked slowly.

“Now, eat. Then we'll go tackle access to that room.”