hangar.
'This is where they are now,' Schofield tapped the three big black dots on the diagram.
'Twelve o'clock, ten o'clock and four o'clock. But when they move like this…' Schofield added some arrows to his diagram.
'…We've got serious trouble. All the Marines and Secret Service people over in the northern office will face the full force of the attack, while the White House people here in the southern office will naturally run the other way — right into the third unit of 7th Squadron soldiers.'
Hagerty looked at Schofield's diagram for a long moment. Then he said, 'That has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Captain. These are American servicemen.'
'For Christ's sake, just listen to me…'
'No, you listen to me,' Hagerty spat. 'Don't think for a moment that I don't know who you are. I know all about Wilkes Ice Station. I know what happened there. But just because you were some kind of hero once doesn't give you a license to spout out fucking conspiracy theories and expect to be believed. I've been in this Corps for twenty-two years and I have risen to where I am by…'
'…What? Pushing pencils?' Schofield said.
Hagerty fell silent. His face grew beet root red.
'That's it, Schofield. For the sake of the Corps, I won't make a scene here, but when we get back to Quantico, as soon as we touch down, you will be taken into custody and held for court martial on charges of gross insubordination. Now get the fuck out of my sight.'
Schofield just shook his head in exasperation and left.
'And these, Sir, are the men who brought back the Sinovirus,' Colonel Harper said, guiding the President around the test booths on Level 4.
A giant thirty-foot-long quarantine chamber stood before them. Through a small glass window set into the side of the reinforced chamber, the President saw four men, all seated on sofas watching a television and bathed in blue ultraviolet light. All of them, he noted, were of Asian extraction.
As soon as they saw the President, two of the men inside the chamber rose to their feet and stood to attention.
'Mr. President, meet Captain Robert Wu and Lieutenant Chet Li from the 7th Squadron…'
Just then Harper's cell phone buzzed.
The colonel excused himself and stepped away to take the call.
'It's a pleasure to meet you both, gentlemen,' the President said, stepping forward. 'Your country owes you a debt of gratitude.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Thank you.'
'How long do you have to stay in there for?' the President inquired, asking the obligatory personal question.
'Another couple of hours, I think, sir,' the one named Wu said. 'We got back yesterday with the new strain, but we have to stay in here for twenty-four hours. The chamber is operated on a time lock. Can't be opened until 0900 hours. So they can be sure there are no other bugs on us.'
'Well, I won't be here come nine o'clock,' the President said, 'but rest assured, you'll be receiving something from me in the very near future.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Thank you, sir.'
Having finished his call, Colonel Harper returned.
'And that concludes our tour, Mr. President,' he said. 'Now, if you'll come this way, I have one last thing to show you.'
Schofield and Gant stood inside Marine One, behind Brainiac. Brainiac was seated at the helicopter's communications console, typing quickly on a keyboard.
'Anything from Nighthawk Three or the two advance teams?' Schofield asked. 'Nada from Nighthawk Three,' Brainiac said. 'And just the beacons from the Secret Service teams.'
Schofield thought for a moment. 'Are we plugged into Area 7's local network?'
'Yep. So the President can collect secure transmissions by the landline.'
'Okay then, can you bring up the complex's security camera system for me?'
'Sure.'
The President was led up a set of stairs to level 3, the living quarters of Area 7. With his nine man Secret Service Detail he was brought into a wide low-ceilinged common room — couches, coffee tables, kitchenette and, taking pride of place over by the wall, a big-screen Panasonic TV.
'If you would just wait here for a moment, Mr. President,' Colonel Harper said, 'I'll send someone down in a minute.'
And then he left the room, leaving the President and his Detail alone.
A series of black-and-white monitors flickered to life in the communications bay of Marine One.
Each monitor depicted a grid of views from the multitude of security cameras around Area 7.
'We have contact,' Brainiac said.
From various angles, Schofield saw empty stairwells — the main hangar — something that looked like a subway station — the interiors of the glass-walled offices in the main hangar, one of them filled with Marines and Secret Service people, the other containing White House staff members — and, in grainy black-and-white, the inside of an elevator — Schofield froze at the final image.
The elevator was packed with ten fully armed 7th Squadron commandos.
And then suddenly movement from one of the other monitors caught his eye.
It was the view from one of the stairwell cameras.
A whole stream of armed 7th Squadron commandos was storming down the stairwell.
'This is going to be very painful,' he said flatly.
Schofield stepped out of marine one onto the hangar floor, Gant and Brainiac close behind him.
Although nothing physical about it had changed, somehow the hangar now looked very different.
Now it looked menacing.
Dangerous.
Schofield saw the three groups of 7th Squadron commandos arrayed around the enormous interior space — saw the commander of one of the groups touch his ear as he caught a radio transmission.
'Stay here,' Schofield said.
'Okay,' Brainiac said.
'Hey,' Gant said.
'What?'
'Try not to look so spooked.'
'I'll do my best,' Schofield said as he stepped out from the cover of Marine One and started walking casually across the hangar floor, toward the northern glass-walled office.
He was about halfway there when it happened.
Loud and sudden.
Boom! Like a curtain falling at the end of a stage show, a giant piston-driven titanium door thundered down in front of the hangar's main doors. Its leading edge — lined with nasty looking toothlike protrusions — lodged firmly into the series of boxlike indentations that ran across the entry to the hangar.
And with the falling of the massive armored door, Schofield gave up any pretense of trying to appear calm.
He broke into a run just as the two nearest groups of 7th Squadron commandos — the ones at twelve o'clock and ten o'clock — raised their P-90's and the air around him became awash with sizzling bullets.
