“Stand fast!” Chesterton shouted to the Rangers, not even removing his gaze from Blake. Connor saw that the guards were shocked, almost panicking.
Enraged, Blake turned fully to the soldiers. “That's a direct order, gentlemen! Place Colonel Chesterton under arrest this moment! Do as you're told!”
Chesterton turned sharply. “Stay where you been! Get on the horn and get Barley down here ASAP.” He focused again on Blake. “We're about to make some changes around here.”
Quickly one of the guards lifted a radio, speaking breathlessly, trembling as Blake swore, “You are finished, Chesterton. As God is my witness, I swear that I am going to send you to Leavenworth for the rest of your life. You will never see daylight again. Never! Never! I swear it!”
“Maybe.” Chesterton nodded, smiling. And Connor could see that Chesterton had crossed some kind of horrific line within himself. Just as Connor knew there would be no turning back now, not for any of them. Chesterton would either be proven right in a court of military law, or he would be found guilty of treason and insubordination and sentenced to a military prison for the rest of his life.
“Maybe I am finished, Blake,” Chesterton responded. “Maybe I won't see daylight for the rest of my life. And then, maybe I've seen too many good men killed in Vietnam because of incompetent commanders like you. But one thing is absolutely certain, Blake.” He nodded. “We know who's in charge, don't we?”
Within minutes Barley came calmly into the room, tall and muscular and disciplined and, as always, the consummate military professional. He moved without question or hesitation to Chesterton as if he understood exactly what was happening and had already chosen a side.
“Lieutenant Barley, take Colonel Blake to a holding area and secure him,” Chesterton said. “And then try to override the NSA satellite lockout to get an immediate emergency airlift of this facility's personnel. Tell the North Atlantic Sea Patrol to get a ship under way if the weather prevents flying. And get someone to bring Dr. Frank up here.”
Without even blinking Barley stepped up to Blake, fearlessly relieving him of his sidearm. He cleared the clip and the chamber and placed the semiautomatic weapon in the waist of his gun belt. Then he stepped to the side, motioning with an empty hand.
“Colonel Blake,” he nodded, emotionless.
But Connor saw the smile hidden within Barley's muscular face, caught the laughing gleam in the narrow dark eyes. After a resentful pause Blake complied, stiff with rage.
“Stand fast,” Barley said as he followed Blake past the two soldiers. Then he spoke a lot louder than necessary so that Blake could clearly hear his words. “I don't need any help with this one.”
“Leviathan's EEG activity is increasing dramatically,” a panel controller said, staring at the elevated spikes on the electronic screen. “Alpha and Beta waves have gone completely off the scale and its heart rate is increasing to ninety beats a minute. Internal body temperature is dropping to 326 degrees and epinephrine levels have peaked.” The pale controller stared at the monitor. “It's waking up.”
Tolvanos didn't blink. “What is the cavern temperature?”
“Temperature at this end of the cavern is 32 degrees Fahrenheit!” the controller shouted. “But the air temperature in the area of the creature is over 200 degrees! It should be freezing down there but Leviathan's exothermic body temperature is superheating everything around it. Even the rocks, the air. Everything.”
Tolvanos glanced down, frowning. “How long before the creature achieves full awareness?” he asked calmly.
Wide-eyed the controller regarded the rapidly changing measurements. “I ... I can't tell if—”
“There!” Tolvanos pointed. “It is awakening!”
Upon the screen, captured fully by the monitor, Leviathan began to awaken, rising. A thick tail uncoiled, whipping out suddenly to the rear, revealing the four long, thick-tendoned legs that ended in wicked feet, reptilian claws gleaming darkly to grapple stones softened by the unimaginable heat of its sleep. Then, from a protective position beside its chest, the long neck straightened as it stood, head rising, rising, lifting sixteen feet above the cavern floor on the armored neck, stretching. And then it lowered its head again as the malevolent green eyes opened, glowing eerily.
It glared at the titanium heat shield.
“My God,” whispered Adler.
The Dragon's body, almost six tons of muscle and tendon and angled, hardened plates of black-green armor, suddenly contracted, corded tendons in its legs and chest visibly tightening, stretching the thick muscles. For a moment it appeared to be cramping, bunching, coiling and twisting the tendons. The joints bulged with the effort, tendons knotting like rocks, then relaxing to tighten again in a slow, gathering rhythm.