“What do you want them to do if it’s Stoner?”
“I think, unfortunately, if he resists, they have to kill him,” said Breanna, ignoring the lump in her throat. “There’s really no other choice.”
30
The text message the Black Wolf received a few hours after killing the doctor consisted of one word:
EXCELLENT
It was the message he received whenever a job was complete. The doctor was the same as the others, just one more on the list.
The man he’d seen, getting of the car. A black man. African.
Or American.
Did he know Americans?
He had lived before the crash. He had a whole past, but it was locked off from him, erased by whatever they had used to resurrect him, to rebuild him, to keep him going.
He didn’t want it back.
But who was that man?
He had other things to worry about. As much as he hated Nudstrumov, the doctor had readily supplied the serum he needed. Who would do that now?
They would. Or he would hunt them down. Maybe he should start on that now.
The Black Wolf’s cell phone beeped with a second message. It indicated a new website.
This one was German, a listing of art shows. There was a phone number he had to call, using a prepaid cell phone.
It was best not to make the call from the house. He went out to the barn and got his motorcycle.
He’d seen the black man somewhere. But where?
A half hour later, sitting at the top of a hill ten miles from the house, the Black Wolf made the call to the number in the listing.
“The assignment has changed,” said a computerized voice in English. “You will go to Prague. A new team is being prepared. Further instructions will be provided. Leave immediately.”
The Black Wolf looked down at the phone. He pressed the
31
Rather than waiting for the morning and the iffy connections north, Danny, Nuri, and Flash took two cars and drove up in the direction of the farm. Given that his visit to the cemetery might have tipped someone off, Danny decided they would bypass the town where he’d stayed as well as the old athletic facility and cemetery. That meant a more circuitous route, swinging farther west before turning back toward the farm from the north.
Nuri and Flash took one car; Danny drove alone. He spent much of the ride brooding about Stoner and the past.
If things had gone differently following the mission, Dreamland itself could have sent a team to check the wreck. But Dreamland had been going through its own transition. Colonel Bastian was being replaced.
Dog wouldn’t have left Stoner behind if he could have helped it. He’d blow up half the world getting one of his people back home.
They didn’t make them like Colonel Bastian anymore. He was a balls-to-the-wall SOB to anyone that crossed him. If you were one of his, however, he didn’t just have your back, he had your soul. He didn’t command you, he cared about you. He made you a better soldier. And a better person.
Danny felt his eyes welling up, thinking about his old commander, Breanna’s dad. He reached over and turned on the radio, hunting for some music to get his mind off the past.
Danny felt a shudder through his body. He knew the voice was just the product of his over-tired imagination, but he was so spooked he turned the radio off and drove in silence for the next two hours.
“Magnetic field, fifty meters,” said Nuri, reading the screen on the MY-PID unit. “Runs all along the far side of the stream.”
Danny focused the night glasses, then swept slowly along the creek. These were big glasses, the size of binoculars, and besides being able to pick up the thermal image of a mouse at two hundred yards, they could accept data from MY-PID, superimposing it to create what the scientists called an “enriched and interpreted image.”
Notes from the computer. Imagine what a school kid could do with that.
“Show magnetic field,” he told the computer.
A blue wall appeared on the other side of the stream. It stretched all the way to the road, a good kilometer away, and ran into the hills on the south. It encircled the entire farm. The perimeter measured nearly thirteen kilometers.
“It has to be some sort of detection field,” said Nuri.
“Like a force field?” asked Flash.
“It’s not going to zap us, if that’s what you mean,” said Nuri. “But I’d guess that anything that moves through it would be detected.”
“As long as it’s metal?” asked Flash.
“It may be pretty sensitive,” said Danny. “Anything that could conduct electricity could set it off. There’s something similar at Dreamland. You can’t breach it without it being detected.”
He slipped back from the trees. Someone had spent a lot of money to set up the perimeter.
Clearly, they had the right place. Or at least one of them.
The property consisted of three gently rolling hills, spread out over land that included two streams and bordered a third. Woods formed an inner ring around a border of open fields, an arrangement that Danny surmised was intentional — the woods would provide cover for defenders. Warned of anyone attempting to approach them, they could slip into the trees and pick them off as they came.
The next ring consisted of farm fields, nearly all idle. At the center were a number of farm buildings and one large house.
The house looked like a nineteenth-century Moldovan manor house, a three-story masonry structure with a sharply pitched roof. Two wings extended off the back, giving the building a U-shape. MY-PID calculated there was just over 8,000 square feet of space inside, not counting the basement.
There were three buildings a short distance away. One was an old barn, in an architectural style similar to the house. A six-bay garage sat next to it, at the end of the driveway. Flat-roofed and skinned with pale concrete stucco, it was somewhat newer, probably built sometime around World War II.
The third building was made of steel and didn’t look to be more than four or five years old. It reminded Danny of the gym he’d seen at the training center, though it would have fit nicely in any industrial park across the world. It was large, 92 feet by just over 280. You couldn’t quite get a football field inside, but it would be close.
It was also heated — the glasses showed that the exterior walls were warmer than the garage’s. The heat
