"Is he married?" Selena asked. "His wife might know something."
"He was married, but she died a few years ago," Elizabeth said.
"Another dead end," Ronnie said.
Nick rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ronnie."
"Maybe not," Selena said. "What was the wife's name?"
CHAPTER 60
Westlake parked the rental car on the steep slope leading up to the cabin. In winter, the driveway was impassable. When his wife had been alive, they'd tried to come here at least once a year during the good months. The cabin had belonged to her father. The county records still had it listed in her name. It had been the perfect place to install the transmitter.
The cabin sat below the tree line at 9,000 feet. The antenna was unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. No one ever came this way, except for an occasional hunter. Alice's father had liked the privacy of the wilderness.
He climbed onto the porch and unlocked the front door. The front room smelled of dust and closed space and stale mouse urine. Mice had always been a problem up here. But now it didn't matter. He wouldn't be coming here again.
Westlake opened a window. He went out through the kitchen to the generator shed in back. The generator was solar powered, running off energy stored in deep cycle batteries connected to an inverter. It was silent and provided enough power for the refrigerator, the lights, the radio. Pure sine wave power that wouldn't fry the transceiver in the bedroom. The system panel showed full charge and a green light. Westlake turned on the power.
The afternoon was bright and sunny, but he could feel the chill of the high country. He went back into the cabin, where a fire was already laid in the fireplace. He lit the kindling and watched it spread until the logs caught. He felt detached, as if someone else stood there, watching the orange and yellow flames.
Westlake went into the back room, where a large radio transceiver sat on a wooden table next to a computer monitor and keyboard. He turned everything on. The display lit with an orange glow, locked onto the frequency for Prometheus. Once the satellite was in range, all he needed to do was to transmit one preprogrammed signal and Prometheus would launch its nuclear spawn.
The missiles had been programmed months ago, targeted on China, Russia and Iran. The Pentagon had to point them somewhere, and the Pentagon technicians were sure they could always re-program the missiles for different targets as needed.
The Pentagon technicians were wrong. Westlake had used Phil Abingdon's expertise to alter the command codes. Prometheus answered only to him. Like the god himself, Westlake would bring the fires of heaven to earth.
He entered a new string of commands on the computer, re-programming one of the missiles with a new target.
Washington.
Westlake had never believed in surrender. Like Ajax, he planned to kill himself in protest. Unlike Ajax, he would take those who had been the instruments of his humiliation with him. It was only right.
He walked from the radio room to the front of the cabin and went to a wooden cabinet. He took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. There were mouse droppings in the cabinet. He took the bottle and the glass and sat down in a chair in front of the fire. He poured a drink, held it up to the firelight and downed it. He poured another.
Westlake looked at the fire blazing in the stone fireplace. A picture taken in happier days of Westlake, his wife and his son rested on the mantle. Alice would have appreciated the fire. She'd always liked it up here in the mountains. She'd liked a fire on a chilly evening.
His thoughts drifted in a random haze. If only his son hadn't died. If only Alice had lived, things might have been different. In a few hours all those who had opposed him would find out what a mistake they had made. The satellite would come into range early in the morning.
For now, he could relax and enjoy the warmth of the fire and the whiskey. In the morning, the world would change forever. Westlake knew he would always be remembered.
He would be immortal, like Homer's heroes.
It was a satisfying feeling.
CHAPTER 61
"We've got it," Elizabeth said. "Westlake's wife owned a cabin in Colorado. It's still listed in her name. It's up in the high country, on the Western Slope. I'm sending you to find out if he's there."
"I know that part of the country," Selena said. "I grew up on the Western Slope."
"Why not call in the Feds?" Nick asked. "They've got a big presence in Colorado. Or SOCOM?"
"I talked it over with Rice," Elizabeth said. "He wants us to do it. He doesn't trust the military at the moment. It's not certain all of the plotters have been identified. Someone could know where Westlake is and tip him off. That leaves out SOCOM."
"What about the Feds?"
"The Bureau can get clumsy. Remember Ruby Ridge and Waco? If Westlake saw them coming, he'd launch. You have a better chance of getting to him before he can launch. Assuming he's there, of course."
"We'd have spotted him if he'd tried to leave the country," Nick said. "It makes sense he'd go to ground where he thought no one could find him."
"You're wheels up as soon as you can get to Andrews," Elizabeth said. "The Air Force will get you to Colorado Springs and from there to Aspen. There's no place to set a chopper down near the cabin without Westlake hearing it. From Aspen, you'll have to drive."
"How far?"
"It's around seventy miles or so. He's in a remote area. Mostly only hunters go up that way. I've already tasked a satellite. Steph, can you bring up the shot?"
Stephanie entered the commands. The wall monitor lit with a live satellite view of the area where Westlake's father-in-law had built his getaway cabin. It was rugged country. A winding dirt road led to a tiny dot Nick assumed was the cabin. It was almost invisible among the trees.
"The satellite will be out of range soon," Elizabeth said. "Zoom in, please, Steph."
The picture grew large. Now they could make out more details. A dark colored truck was parked under the trees near the cabin. The picture was good enough to see smoke rising from the chimney. There was a shed in the back of the cabin.
"Someone's there," Nick said.
"It has to be him," Selena said.
"No power lines."
"He's got solar panels on that shed," Ronnie said. "Probably runs everything on batteries."
"There's the antenna," Selena said. She pointed at a mast on the roof of the building, topped with something that looked like a TV dish.
"Bingo," Ronnie said.
"You'd better get your gear together," Elizabeth said.
Down in the armory they sorted out what they wanted to take with them. This wasn't a long term engagement. They could keep it light. Pistols and MP5s. Flashbangs. Comm gear. Armor. Ammo. Night vision optics. They'd drive close to the cabin and go in on foot.
Ronnie finished what he was doing and went upstairs. Nick's ear itched. He scratched it. Selena saw him.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Just an itch."
"Why don't I believe you?" she said.
"I don't have a good feeling about this," he said. "It seems straight forward enough, but something feels off."
"Maybe it's anticipation. You know, like pre-game jitters."
"Maybe." He pulled the straps tight on his pack. "I've been thinking."
Selena looked at him.
"We need to set a date for the wedding." The words were rushed. "When Westlake was going to kill us, all I could think about was you. I don't want to waste any more time. I'll say what I said before. Will you marry me?"
"Nick." Selena had been checking her MP-5. She set it down on a table and took his hand. "This has got to be a first," she said.
"What is?"
"Getting proposed to in an armory."
"I asked you before, remember?"
"Yes, but this is different."
"So?"
"Yes, I'll marry you."
"Hey." Ronnie called down the stairs. "Get a move on down there."
Nick kissed her. "Come on," he said, "lets go get the son of a bitch."
CHAPTER 62
They'd made it to Aspen and up into the mountains in record time, but it was still past midnight by the time they reached the cabin. The moon cast enough light to see the building in the dark shadows of the trees. A thin, damp mist rose from the forest floor. Nick studied the scene through his binoculars. His breath made little clouds of condensation in the night air. At this altitude, the temperatures dropped fast after dark.
They lay under tall evergreens on sloping ground, less than a hundred feet away from Westlake's mountain retreat. Selena was on Nick's right, Ronnie on his left. The cabin had a wide, covered porch. Light shone through a window in the front. Smoke from the chimney gave the night a pleasant, familiar scent. Nick had always loved the smell of wood burning in a fireplace. It reminded him of his place in California, before it had burned to the ground.
Maybe I should rebuild it.
The thought annoyed him. He pushed it away.
"I don't see anyone," Nick said. He handed the binoculars to Ronnie.
"Not a good angle to see in," Ronnie said. "We need to get closer."
He pressed a button on his wristwatch. A faint glow illuminated the dial. It was a little before two in the morning.
"Maybe he's asleep," Ronnie said.
"Not likely, with that light on." Selena scratched her nose.
"Watch out for trip wires," Nick said. "He may have set something, just in case."
They got up and moved toward the cabin in a crouch until they reached level ground. Silent as the moonlight, they stepped onto the porch. Nick held up his hand. From where he was, he could see through the window.
A cheerful fire burned in a stone fireplace. There was a leather arm chair and a rocker on either side of a circular rug laid down on the floor in front of the fire. Nick could see the kitchen area and a wooden dining table and four chairs. It looked like a scene painted by Norman Rockwell. He half expected a kindly old lady with spectacles and a gingham dress to come into the room, carrying a steaming apple pie.
There was another room in the back. Westlake came out of it and walked across the room. He was halfway across when the porch window shattered and the sound of a high powered rifle echoed hard and flat through the trees. Westlake dove for the floor.
"What the hell," Ronnie said
They scrambled off the porch and ran for the trees. Three more shots came out of the darkness. Ronnie stumbled and went down. Nick and Selena made it to the trees,
"Ronnie," Nick called. "How bad?"
There was no answer. Ronnie lay without moving.
Nick said, "We have to get the shooter."
"Who is it?" Selena said. "A sentry?"
"I don't think so. That first shot was aimed at Westlake."
"I saw muzzle flashes over there." She pointed at a tight packed cluster of trees.
"Lay down fire. I'll flank them. Ready?"
She nodded.
"Now."
Selena opened up with her MP-5 on full auto, spraying quick bursts at the trees where she'd seen the flashes of a rifle. Nick got to his feet and ran to his left. Selena could see dark bits and branches flying off the trees as she raked the stand. She used up the magazine, ejected, rammed in another, fired again.
Whoever was in the trees let loose a volley. She could see the flashes in the dark. Bullets whined off the ground near her. She tried to press herself into the earth. She heard Nick's MP-5. Then the night was still.
"Clear," Nick called.
The man he'd shot lay on his back. He was dressed in green and black camouflage. A scoped assault rifle lay beside him on the ground. Blood ran from his mouth. He coughed, said something. Nick bent down to hear.
"Kill him," the man said. "You will...rewarded." He choked. Blood bubbled out of his mouth. He died.
Selena got up and ran over to Ronnie. He stirred as she got to him. She helped him sit up. "Come on. We're exposed." She cast a nervous look at the building. The lights were still out. They moved to the side of the cabin. There was only a small bathroom window there, high up. They stopped behind a large rock outcrop. It gave good cover.
Ronnie had a deep gash on his forehead. Selena could see a lump forming. When he'd gone down, he'd hit his head on a rock.
"Stupid," he said. "Tripped and knocked myself out." he said. He felt his head. His hand came away bloody.
"Probably a good thing," she said. "We thought you took a hit. The shooter must have thought the same thing."
Nick came over to them, crouched low. "There was only one shooter," he said. "He said something odd before he died."
"What?" Selena asked.
"He said,
kill him.
He meant Westlake. Then he said I'd be rewarded. At least I think that's what he meant. "
"That is odd," Selena said.
Nick turned to Ronnie. "How are you, amigo?"
"Just a bad headache. I'm all right."
"What now?" Selena asked. "After that, Westlake knows we're here."
"That's for sure," Nick said. "Maybe we can reason with him."
"He's a psycho, Nick. How are you going to reason with him?" Ronnie rubbed his forehead.
"We won't know unless we try. If we go through that door, he'll launch."
"You expect him to open the door and invite us in?"
"Let's find out."
Nick stood up. It was a safe bet. The bath room window was frosted glass and closed. He couldn't be seen from the cabin.
"General Westlake," Nick called. "Let's talk."
There was no answer.
"Appeal to his vanity," Selena said. "Make him feel important."
Nick thought for a moment.
"Sir, this is a historic moment," he called. "The fate of the world is in your hands. Generations to come will want to know what you were thinking tonight."
Ronnie pointed his finger at his throat and pantomimed gagging.
They heard the sound of a door opening. "Is that you, Carter?" Westlake's voice came from the darkened cabin. "How did you find me?"