The Delta Chain (51 page)

What finer, nobler legacy could
there be to the memory of Mai?

On the sixth day he and Vender
were picked up by the riverboat crew, captained by a young Jackson
Donnelly, and on their way to Area Commander Logan Asquith…

Consciousness came back
slowly to Brian Markham. He drifted in and out of a heavy sleep, as
though drugged, mentally trying to force himself out, constantly
being pulled back into a quicksand of strange dreams. He became
aware of something cold creeping over his face and neck, scratching
across his skin, but he couldn
’
t raise
his hands to flick it away.

Finally he was fully
awake, though incredibly tired, and he couldn
’
t fathom where he was. He tried to move but
couldn
’
t even shift slightly. Streams of
dust forced him to keep his eyes closed some of the time. He was on
his back, facing up. Something was pressing down on him, keeping
him immobile and he realised there was water. He could hear the
steady trickle somewhere nearby, and he felt it around his neck and
on the back of his head.

He drifted back into a
half-sleep…woke again, experiencing the same sensations, memory
returning…the lift, the explosion…

The sharp, slithery
feeling on his forehead, cheeks and neck. Cockroaches. He caught
glimpses of them from the corners of his eyes.
They
’
d crawled out through the cracks and
holes that riddled the shaft. The water crept higher.

Where were the others? He
called out,
‘
Kate!
‘
Stephen!
’
but his voice was weak.
No response, no sounds or signs of human life other than his own.
He was trapped. They must have gone for help.

Either that or they were hurt…or
dead.

To find help they would have to
find a way out. He could only imagine what kind of mess lay beyond
these walls. His heart began to beat faster, too fast, his breaths
shorter. He tried to muster greater strength, to move…it was
hopeless… The cockroaches were driving him mad and the water level
would slowly cover him…

Panic gripped him as realisation
dawned. There was little chance of help reaching him in time, if
ever. It would be a slow, dirty death.

One moment Kate was
emitting a cry of terror, the next there was only silence coming
from her open mouth. It was as though the scream had been sucked
right back inside her and frozen solid. She was running through the
passageway, stumbling over wreckage that she
couldn
’
t see in the semi-darkness and the
ankle deep water. She had barely registered the shock of seeing
Stephen taken like that, with such force, food for a hungry
reptile.

Was there really anywhere
to run? She reached another point of partly caved in rock. She
could squeeze through, twisting herself about but she
couldn
’
t possibly push herself through
quick enough. Resignedly she looked back. The first of the
crocodiles was less than a metre away, its tail whipping the water
as it slithered toward her. How could she have escaped such a fate
days before, only to face it again, this time with no chance of
reprieve? Fate didn
’
t work like that. Did
it?

Oh Greg… Adam…? Why?

A sudden eruption of sound.
Squealing, high pitched. An assault on the ears.

What…?

She was jolted, a mass of
movement around her legs and through the crevasses above and below
her, a moving carpet of hundreds of tiny creatures rushing from all
sides, panicked.

Rats.

She
’
d seen one or two before, scurrying away, but had paid
little attention. Nothing like this. They were literally spilling
from the cracks, charging through the passage, running from the
reptiles and the deeper water.

The
crocodile
’
s jaws snapped down, capturing
three of the rodents in one savage crunch and the crocodiles
immediately behind it tore into more of the rats. The screech of
the rats was deafening. But they had distracted the crocs. The
creatures now began to whip their bodies about, diving at the
rodents. Kate tore her eyes away from the feeding
frenzy.

Crouching down, she propelled
herself through the narrow shelf that had been left when part of
this passage had crumbled. Small, furry bodies squelched under her
feet. She was revolted, queasy, horrified.

The space widened again. An area
that was part maze, part chamber opened up around her. A twisted
mass of columns, tunnels and dark pits, stone meshed with metal and
glass. The water thinning out…

Then she heard the voice.

Logan
Asquith
’
s call to “Bulldog” Frazer
confirmed what he already expected.

‘Our intel shows the task
force has enough to implicate Westmeyer,
’
Frazer said.
‘
There
’
s an aerial photo that
shows a body being dumped from his boat. And a Sydney woman has
been tracked down, a banker, who was in
Westmeyer
’
s home and overheard him
discussing the drowning deaths with someone. We suspect that
“someone” was the mayor, who
’
s been in
Westmeyer
’
s pocket. We
can
’
t have William being arrested and put
through interrogation.
’

‘Agree,
’
Asquith said.

‘Is Renshaw equipped to
take care of it?
’

‘Yes. But
he
’
s not in this car.
’

‘I
’
ll call him on his cell,
’
Frazer
said.
‘
Are the other team leaders there
with you?
’

Asquith explained that Donnelly
and Tannen were with him, but that Erickson and Hunter had gone
missing.

‘Unfortunately we
can
’
t cancel Donnelly as well, not right
now. One supposedly natural death will be taken at face value. Two
or more will arouse suspicion. With his criminal background,
Donnelly
’
s the obvious one to take the
fall for the research activities. Erickson
’
s not so much a threat. Wherever he is,
there
’
s nothing concrete to link him or
his men to any of this and he
’
s tough as
steel. He
’
s unlikely to be found. If
Hunter hasn
’
t been intercepted, then
we
’
ll find him and spirit him out of the
country.
’

‘And Nexus?
’
asked Asquith.

‘Once the Australian Feds
have spoken with our authorities here, I
’
ll be expecting a formal investigation by the Attorney
General and JAG. But we
’
ll be ready. The
Chiefs don
’
t know of our existence but
they
’
ll want to launch their own internal
inquiry. The unit will be temporarily closed down and all signs of
its existence eradicated. Knowledge of any activity denied.
We
’
ll speak to the Embassy there, to make
certain you
’
re allowed to leave the
country.
’

“Bulldog” Frazer’
s next
call was to Renshaw.

Asquith checked his watch over
and over as the vehicle sped on.

It was essential now that Frazer
was able to save the situation.

His thoughts flashed back
to the first time he
’
d presented the idea
of the Delta Chain project to Frazer, over fifteen years
earlier.

He and Frazer had always been of
like minds.

‘You
’
re saying this Westmeyer has mice breathing
underwater?
’

‘Not breathing, as such,
but holding their breaths effortlessly for several
minutes.
’

‘Mice?
’

‘Yes.
’

‘And you believe his
prelim research holds up?
’

‘Yes. This man may very
well succeed in having human beings capable of storing oxygen in
their blood long enough to exist underwater for hours at a
time.
’

‘How long do you expect
that might take?
’

‘Through the proper
channels
–
who knows? Several decades.
Longer.
’

‘Are you thinking what I
believe you
’
re thinking?
’

Asquith nodded.
‘
Imagine it. Navy Seals able to hold their
breaths underwater, effortlessly, for extreme lengths of time. No
need for cumbersome diving equipment. But it goes far beyond that.
All our forces
–
army, navy, air
force
–
hundreds of thousands of men and
women with that same ability.
’

‘The tactical
advantages,
’
said Frazer,
‘
for combat, for peacekeeping missions, for
invasion, for search and rescue
–
are
infinite.
’

Both men had long believed that
the greatest war of all time was coming in the twenty first
century.

‘An incredible tactical
advantage,
’
Asquith acknowledged.
‘
And think of the doors it will open for you and
I. The positions, the prestige.
’

‘True power.
’
“Bulldog” Frazer took a moment, weighing the
potential.
‘
And if we bypass the proper
channels and fast-track this, if we assign Westmeyer to pursue this
under the Nexus cloak?
’

‘I can only hazard a
guess. Maybe fifteen years, ten without setbacks.
’

‘Then we had better get
this Westmeyer underway. The timing would be ideal for
this…vision…of yours.
’

That was how it had begun.
Asquith checked his watch again, snapping himself back to the
present.

Beyond his military
career, and his role in the Nexus group, Asquith
’
s vision, with Frazer, was to create his own independent
company
–
private scientific research
with military applications
–
selling its
products and services in the broader market, to the highest
bidder.

Just as another visionary
had built a private mercenary army for hire
–
known as Blackwater
–
Asquith
envisaged the same but in their own specialised field.

The successful unveiling of
Delta Chain would provide them with the perfect moment to negotiate
the launch their own enterprise.

They were at the threshold and
nothing must derail them now.

The fissure ran straight through
to another, partly submerged area. Trickles of light at random
points, a maze of what appeared to be other passageways beyond the
shadows. Erickson inched forward, still gripping the flashlight,
the running water reaching to his kneecaps and rising steadily.

He knew enough about the
sub-level to know there were tunnels, left untouched since the war
years, running to the coast. Were they covered over now or was
there still a way out?

There has to
be a way out
.

All of a sudden he saw the
head of a croc. Erickson froze. The croc was very still but
Erickson could tell it was alive, watching him with lazy eyes. He
cursed himself for not having grabbed one of his guns from the
truck. It wasn
’
t like him to be so damn
stupid, to act so foolishly under pressure. He was on his own,
sealed in, without weapons, with one of the crocs he himself had
captured.

Maybe he could bluff his way out
of this.

Keeping his eyes on the
creature, he began to inch slowly backward. The fissure opening was
right behind him, higher and drier. He could run once he was
through that opening. The reptile still didn
’
t move. Maybe the creature, rocked by the explosions and
the change in its environment, was disorientated.

He kept his movements
slow. He wouldn
’
t attempt to turn his
body until he was directly alongside the crack. He felt the rise in
the ground beneath his feet. Almost there. He sensed
success.

The crocodile lunged, a
sudden movement at frightening speed, the great jaws flying open.
Teeth clamped down around Erickson
’
s
upper legs and he was yanked viciously back across the
water.

It wasn
’
t deep enough for the reptile to go into its death roll,
drowning its intended victim before it began to feed. The huge jaws
held its prey tightly while it moved through the water, navigating
the surrounding area. Erickson began to struggle, twisting his body
about in terror. He hurled a solid punch deep into the
crocodile
’
s eye, breaking through
membrane, spurting blood and tissue. The croc convulsed in pain,
the jaw slackening enough for Erickson to squirm free. He lashed
out across the subterranean river but even as he did so he saw the
second and third crocs, rearing up from behind the
first.

The bodies of all three
crocs went into frenzy, tails whipping through water, jaws snapping
at one another as they glided, jostling, toward the prize. Erickson
had reached the fissure and was pulling himself up when one of the
crocs caught him, jagged teeth clamping down once again, this time
around his lower leg, pulling him back. The jaws of a second croc
closed around Erickson
’
s upper torso.
Teeth tore through skin, crunching bone. The crocs rolled their
bodies, each tearing hungrily at their prey, fighting each other
for it.