Morgan heard a single gunshot that he identified as coming from Rogue’s H&K, and one of Novokoff’s men tumbled to the ground. The other ran and disappeared into the trees. A few moments later, Morgan reached the tree line. He took cover behind the trunk of a tree, then cautiously looked around. The darkness and the foliage provided plenty of cover—and if the man wasn’t visible, then neither was Morgan. He skulked closer to where the man had disappeared. And then he heard a twig snap, no more than a few feet ahead of him.
He got behind a tree and held his breath. The man hadn’t seen him. Morgan could hear him breathing, scared. He was walking in Morgan’s direction. He waited, and then, when the man was mere feet away, Morgan emerged and fired.
Click. Jammed.
Just as the man, wide-eyed, began to raise his MAC-10 to shoot, Morgan smashed the Uzi into his face, then brought his foot down on the back of the man’s knee. The man fell to his knees. With a quick, fluid move, Morgan pulled his knife from his boot and drove it into the man’s neck. He gurgled, and blood welled from his mouth, as he fell face first on the ground.
“All clear,” he said. The Zeta tac team made their way over, and Diesel knelt down and examined the communication device in the man’s ear. “These are limited range,” he said. “They won’t reach Novokoff if he’s underground.”
“That means he won’t know we’re coming,” said Bishop. “We’ll have a chance to sneak up on them.”
“Let’s move on, then,” said Morgan. “The facility’s waiting for us. And this time, let’s catch the bastard.”
CHAPTER 32
Montauk, January 29
Led by Bishop, Morgan, along with Rogue, Diesel, and Spartan, made his way inside the abandoned building that held the gigantic radar array. Inside, it was mostly a rundown, abandoned concrete building, with crumbling walls and a cracked ceiling, vines and grasses slowly intruding to reclaim the space for nature. Everything was perfectly normal except for an enormous hatch on the ground, its metal cover large enough to hold a car, hanging open and exposing a wide stairwell that descended into gloom. The Zeta tactical team went down the stairs and through a short corridor to find a thick steel door, which looked like it led to a walk-in bank safe, melted right off its hinges with explosives. Morgan could still detect the pungent scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. On his right he saw a complicated console that was undoubtedly used for identification, now laughably superfluous. The gaping entrance where the door used to be revealed a small atrium with flashing fluorescent lights and two doors. One led to the elevator, and was marked as such. Another had a symbol that indicated that there were stairs.
The elevator call button and the door to the stairwell each had a key-card reader next to it. Diesel pulled out from his pack a piece of equipment that consisted of a magnetic key card attached by wires to some kind of transmitter. He inserted the key-card end into the slot next to the stairwell.
“All right, Shep,” said Diesel, “we’re connected.”
“Opening . . .” he said. Some fifteen seconds elapsed. There was a buzz, and the light next to the key card went red. “Weird.” After a few moments, there was another buzz, and the light flashed red again.
“There’s some kind of block on the other side,” said Shepard. “Hardwired. Novokoff had someone who knew what he was doing. I can’t get you in through that door.”
“Does that mean we’re stuck?” asked Bishop.
“Maybe not,” said Shepard. “Diesel, try the elevator door.”
Diesel inserted the device into the elevator door slot.
“I get the feeling the elevator won’t be working,” said Morgan.
Then there was a buzz. This time, the light flashed green, and the elevator doors slid open. In front of them was the deep dark shaft, lifeless except for faint noises of footsteps reverberating from below.
“Tell me why we aren’t waiting for them up here,” said Morgan. “There’s only one way out. We can ambush them right here and have a much better chance of taking them all out and all making it out alive.” Spartan gave him a look as if she agreed, but said nothing.
“There may be survivors,” said Bloch. “There are few who know the details of what happens in this facility, and it is likely no one on the outside knows anything in any kind of detail. We are going to need survivors to help preserve the knowledge of things inside this facility.”
“Just what the hell haven’t you told us about what’s down there, Bloch?” Morgan demanded.