“The United States,” said Lime. “Just like you. Now do as I say—I won’t ask again.”
After a hesitation, Watts removed his two revolvers and held them out as instructed. They were taken away by the soldier.
“Corrie?” asked Lime.
Corrie finally found her voice. “‘As a patriot’？ What are you talking about?”
Lime slapped her across the face with an open palm—so hard she saw stars. “I’m sorry, Corrie. But you have to understand that I mean business. Better a slap across the face than a bullet in the brain pan. Now: your weapon, please. Two fingers.”
The blow shook the confusion from her. Cheek aflame, she unsnapped the keeper in her holster and held up her 9mm with two fingers. The soldier took it.
“Are you some kind of Russian spy?” she asked.
“No. When we get to Pershing, you’ll be debriefed. No more talk.”
After securing the weapons, the soldier went around and unbuckled each one of them from their harnesses. Then he pulled Corrie’s hands behind her back and zip-tied them together.
Skip suddenly spoke, his voice tight and high. “The camp. Was that an explosion?”
“Necessary but regrettable,” Lime said.
“What the fuck? What about my sister?”
“She wasn’t there. We have her at Pershing.”
“And my—？”
“One more word and you’ll get a bullet.” His voice was calm—too calm—and Corrie knew he meant it. She prayed Skip would shut up.
Skip did. After zip-tying Corrie, the soldier bent over Skip, reaching out to grab his wrists. But, free of his harness, Skip abruptly lunged upward, ramming his head into the soldier’s stomach and knocking him down. With a garbled scream, Skip leapt into the cockpit, whipping his forearm around the pilot’s throat and wrenching back his head, twisting and choking him.
The chopper swerved abruptly, throwing everyone to one side. Still screaming like a madman, Skip throttled the pilot. The soldier jumped Skip from behind, trying to pull him off the pilot while yanking out a knife to cut his throat, but the helicopter spun so wildly, rotors screaming, that everyone was at the mercy of centrifugal forces. Everyone had been unbuckled except the pilot, and Corrie, still zip-tied, found herself tossed from one side of the fuselage to the other, helplessly tumbling with the others, hearing shots fired uselessly as the out-of-control bird went into a spiraling descent that swiftly ended in a massive, crunching impact—and then, darkness.
55
STANDING IN FRONT of Rush, Tappan spoke first. To Nora, his voice seemed surprisingly calm. “What is this place?”
Rush looked at him steadily, hatchet-like cheekbones framing his pale eyes. A man in a lieutenant’s uniform entered the room, came over, and bent toward Rush, whispering something in his ear. The colonel nodded and the man quickly left, feet echoing on the concrete floor, closing the heavy door behind him.
Rush turned back to Tappan. Although his uniform resembled that of an officer in the regular army, Nora noticed that—like the captain’s—it bore badges, medals, and service ribbons that looked unusual. It was the same with this room, or for that matter the entire underground base: while in her experience military quarters were never lavish, these surroundings seemed particularly spartan. In fact, other than the table, chairs, and smoked windows—which reminded her of the observation panels in a police interrogation room—there was only one piece of ornamentation: an emblem on the wall behind the colonel, showing an eagle hovering over Earth, its wings spread and talons out as if to protect its young. Beneath was a motto: SERVANDAE VITAE MENDACIUM.
“What is this place?” Tappan repeated.
This time, the colonel answered. “I presume that to be, at least in part, a rhetorical question. I suspect you have an inkling of who we are, why we’re here, and what our mission is.” He spoke in a clipped voice.
At that moment, the door opened again and two more soldiers entered, carrying between them a black box, about two feet on a side. They gingerly placed the box on Rush’s desk. The colonel stood and took a step back.
“Evaluation complete?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said one of the soldiers.
“And?”
“Full green.”
“Very well.” Rush nodded.
Nora watched as the other soldier unlatched the box and carefully opened the lid. The lid’s interior, and the box itself, seemed to be lined with a thick grayish-black material resembling graphite. She could not see its contents beyond a jade-green glow that reflected off Rush’s face as he stared down—a glow she remembered coming from beneath the sand of the dig site. The colonel appeared stunned, his face tense and his eyes glittering in the otherworldly light. An age seemed to pass before he stepped back again and nodded to the soldier, who shut the box.