The Atlantis Plague(42)
The major plopped down behind the desk, drew a pack of cigarettes from the top drawer, and quickly lit one with a match. He held the match and looked up at David. “Smoke?”
“I quit after the outbreak. Figured there wouldn’t be any left in a few weeks.”
The major shook the match out and tossed it in the ashtray. “Glad I’m not that smart.”
David didn’t sit at the desk. He wanted some distance between them. He walked to the window and stared out, thinking, hoping the major would tip his hand somehow, give David an opening.
The major blew a cloud of smoke between them and spoke carefully, as if measuring every word before he spoke it. “I’m Alexander Rukin. Colonel…”
He’s good, David thought. Right to the point. No opening. What do I have to work with? The room. A major—commanding a base this large? It was unlikely. But David sensed that there was no superior officer on site. “I was told the base commander would be notified of my presence, should we come into contact.”
“He may have been.” Rukin took another pull on the cigarette. David sensed something changing. Is he changing his approach?
“He’s in southern Spain, leading the invasion. He deployed almost everyone. We’re running a skeleton crew. Our station chief, Colonel Garrott, got picked off two days ago. Stupid son of a bitch was making the rounds, visiting every guard tower, shaking hands like he’d been elected mayor of hell. Berber sniper got him with one shot. We assume the shooter was in the hills, that’s why we added the patrols. And the boomerangs on the perimeter. Now I need to know why you’re here.”
Yes, Rukin was giving him useless details, hoping David would reciprocate, tell his story, make a mistake. “I’m here for a job.”
“What—”
“It’s classified,” David said, turning to face Rukin. How long do I have? Maybe an hour before he finds out I’m a fake? At best, I can buy some time. “Call it in. If you have the clearance, they’ll tell you.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The explosion.” Rukin read David’s face. “You don’t know?”
“Apparently not.”
“Someone exploded a sub-nuclear device at Immari HQ in Germany,” Rukin said. “Nobody’s calling anything in right now, especially covert ops verifications.”
David failed to hide his surprise. But… it was the opening he needed. “I’ve… been in transit, with no comms.”
“From?”
Now the test. “Recife,” David said.
Rukin leaned forward. “There’s no Clocktower station in Recife—”
“We were in startup when the analyst purge began. Then the plague hit. I barely got out. I’ve been on special assignment since.”
“Interesting. That’s a really interesting story, Colonel. Here’s the reality: if you don’t tell me who you are and why you’re here right now, I’ll have to hold you in a cell until I can verify your identity. It’s my ass if I don’t.”
David stared at him. “You’re right. It’s… operational secrecy. Old habit. Maybe I was a Clocktower operative for too long.” Then David gave the story he had been working on since he crossed the first gate. “I’m here to help secure this base. You know how important Ceuta is to the cause. My name is Alex Wells. If HQ is destroyed, there’s bound to be someone from special ops directorate that can verify me.”
Rukin scribbled some notes on a pad. “I’ll have to confine you to quarters under guard until then. You understand, Colonel.”
“I understand,” David said. I’ve bought some time. Would it be enough to get out of here? One goal dominated David’s mind: finding Kate. He needed information to do that. “I do have one… request. As I said, I’ve been in transit. I’d like to hear any updates you have. Anything unclassified, of course.”
Rukin sat back in the metal chair, seeming to relax for the first time. “The rumor is that Dorian Sloane has returned. Naturally he was arrested outside the Antarctica structure. But they say he carried a case. The morons in charge took that case back to HQ and it blew up the building. Darwinism at work, if you ask me.”
“What happened to Sloane?”
“That’s the strangest part. The story is that in interrogation, he killed a guard and ripped open Chairman Sanders’ throat. Then, get this, they kill him—double tap to the head, close range. An hour later, he walks out of the structure. A completely new body—with all his memories. Not a scratch on him.”