Clark knew Tony Genova was one of the few people on the planet who could get access to President Livingston. Scott Baker had told him Livingston had taken a liking to the man. They talked almost weekly. Despite Tony’s back-ground, Livingston had a modicum of trust with the man.
Livingston would do what Tony asked him to do, no question about it.
Once Clark had Donald Barker where he wanted him, it would all be over.
Only now, his plans were foiled.
Clark thought about what to do. If it was indeed Black Lodge agents that had stormed Tony’s apartment, he might have entered a perfect storm type of situation. It was obvious they didn’t know Clark was watching them, didn’t even know Clark’s whereabouts, so he had the element of surprise. The handgun Clark had concealed in his coat was a Desert Eagle .50 caliber job with a custom sound sup-pressor affixed to the barrel. He’d quit carrying a Sig Sauer when he went rogue. Clark was a good shot. He could burst in, take all three of them down quickly, and Tony wouldn’t know what was going on until the unknown agents who’d spoiled the party were dead.
A buzzer vibrated the watch on Clark’s wrist, indicating that time was up. He had exactly five minutes to eliminate the problem inside Tony’s condominium and convince him to cooperate, or else.
With the decision in place, Clark relaxed slightly. He could feel the adrenalin surge through his system, priming him up. Time to get moving.
Clark stepped away from his hiding place and took a quick survey of his surroundings. The courtyard was clear.
He headed to Tony Genova’s unit. Pulled out the Desert Eagle, and approached the front door.
He was just about to kick the door in when he felt the presence of a man step up behind him. Clark’s final thought was where the hell did he come from? And then he felt a hand on the base of his neck, he felt his legs give out, and then blackness claimed him.
FIVE
In the initial few minutes of the power going out, the confusion inside the research center reached a chaotic level. The sense of desperation was almost palpable. Behind the communications area, Wade and Ed scrambled around, searching for candles and babbling to each other in quavering voices that betrayed their attempts to sound calm. Susan cowered in the corner of the lobby, her voice a sobbing whisper as she kept repeating, “Oh God, I don’t want to die, please don’t let me die!”
Jennifer was in the lobby, searching for candles or a flashlight—anything that would dispel the darkness—and Susan’s whining was getting on her nerves. “Shut up!” she barked, and instantly regretted it. Susan had never been in this type of situation before. Neither had Ed and Wade for that matter. “Let’s all just calm down and focus. If we start panicking, we won’t make it out of this alive.”
“You’re right.” Wade wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “We’re running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”
Nodding, Ed sighed.
Susan stopped her litany and remained huddled in the corner.
“All we have to do is hide until morning,” Wade said. “The Dark Ones can’t handle the daylight, right? They hide from the sun.”
“That’s true,” Jennifer said, “but the same thing doesn’t apply to the Clickers.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Outside, the sounds of the Clickers and the Dark Ones grew closer.
CLICK-CLICK! CLICK-CLICK!
“They’re getting closer,” Jennifer stated, frustrated that she couldn’t even find a goddamn flashlight in the lobby. The hallway that led to the inner recess of the research center was pitch black. She wondered why the back-up generators hadn’t kicked in. Was it possible they’d been destroyed too? If so, then that meant the Dark Ones were inside the building already.
“Hey, isn’t there a basement or a sub-cellar to this place?” Wade asked.
Jennifer was just about to respond with a yes, when the creaking of a door answered Wade’s question. The sound came from the communications area, and its suddenness startled Ed and Wade.
“Who is that?” Ed barked, his strong voice trembling slightly with fear.
The creaking grew louder, followed by the sound of wood resting on the floor. Then, a voice. Soft, with a slight musical island lilt to it, but definitely male. “Is that you Dr. Steinhardt? Is everything okay? I heard shouts, and then the lights went out.”
Jennifer felt herself relax. She recognized the voice.
“Is that you Keoni?” Ed asked.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?” A moment later a light appeared from the open trapdoor in the floor and Jennifer sighed in relief.