“Thank you,” Hatch said. “And allow me to complete the charge. ‘Elgen, I salute you!’”
38
The Domguard Attacks
Hatch considered it a gift of fate that the Domguard were still stationed in Rome, so close to the resistance’s European compound. The Domguard flew two Black Hawk helicopters from Rome to Turin, then refueled and waited for their final orders from EHQ. The order to attack came at two in the morning, and the helicopters lifted into the moist night air, flying north over the Italian Alps toward France. Unlike the Apache attack helicopters that the Elgen had used in the assault on Timepiece Ranch, the Black Hawks were designed for speed and troop transport, which at the moment was what was required.
The sun was still an hour from rising when the two helicopters descended in unison a quarter mile north of a thick forest of spruce and fir trees that surrounded the resistance’s compound. The heavily wooded forest that had served to conceal and shelter the resistance now worked against them, as it provided cover for the Elgen force.
On their flight from Rome, the Domguard had been given a complete briefing on their mission, as well as electronic plans of the compound’s layout and security—a detailed sketch derived from Cassy’s thoughts.
Twenty-five Elgen Domguards, using night-vision goggles, surrounded the compound. They set explosives and simultaneously blew up three different sections of the outer wall and the outside guard booth, killing the guard on watch. The blasts set off the compound’s first alarms and effectively divided the resistance’s security forces, as they broke up to cover the three breaches in the walls.
The resistance’s headquarters relied more on secrecy than security, and without Cassy to help defend the installation, they were undermanned and outgunned. They were vulnerable. The wall breaches were a diversion and a trap, resulting in twelve of the resistance’s guards being taken out immediately by the waiting snipers.
* * *
It was a quarter past two in the afternoon in Tuvalu when the Domguard started their attack, and Hatch, along with his EGGs—Amon, Grant, Bosen, and Despain—watched the covert operation unfold in his office, the attack playing out on twelve different monitors, captured by the night-vision cameras the Domguard wore on their helmets. It was like watching a video game except that the action figures—and the blood—were real.
The Domguard moved silently to surround the exits of the French château, the soft, rubberized soles of their boots barely making a sound on the mansion’s black cobblestone driveway.
Samantha Scholes, Dr. Coonradt’s personal assistant, had heard the explosions and, wearing only her nightgown, walked out onto the patio to see what was going on. She was immediately grabbed from behind by one of the Elgen guards. Since Hatch had ordered the guard to avoid noncombat casualties, Samantha was zipped up in a specially designed body bag and left in the yard.
The body bags, called PEQs by the Elgen (an abbreviation for “polyethylene quod”), were an ingenious Elgen invention. They were basically pocket jail cells. The bags were lightweight, less than a pound, and folded up into a canister the size of a flashlight. The bags effectively bound, blindfolded, and muffled their victims, allowing just enough oxygen for the occupant to breathe if she didn’t put up too much of a fuss—which worked well to control the captive inside. Since the bags were puncture resistant—resisting twelve hundred pounds per square inch—no one, even with a knife, could get out until they were let out. The bag’s zipper was located on the outside of the bag, so it didn’t even require a padlock to secure the occupant.
The compound’s final guard was stationed on the main floor of the mansion in the video surveillance room. He was neutralized as he ran up the stairway to alert Dr. Coonradt of the danger.
Dr. Coonradt’s room was at the end of the corridor on the home’s third level, the wide, wood-paneled walls lined with deer and elk antlers. Coonradt had been up until two in the morning in communication with the board at Christmas Ranch and, upset that the Electroclan were still unaccounted for, had taken a sedative to help him sleep. The sleeping aid, in addition to the earplugs he wore, left him so isolated that, in spite of the explosions and alarms, he was still asleep when the three Domguards entered his room.
Dr. Coonradt was easily subdued by the powerful guards and handcuffed. Then a needle was shoved into his jugular vein, injecting him with methohexital—a barbiturate that rendered him completely unconscious in less than fifteen seconds. He was then placed faceup on the bed for Hatch to identify. It had been years since Hatch had seen the scientist, and seeing him brought back a flood of anger.
“That’s him,” Hatch said. “That’s coon-rat. Bring him to me.”
The guards radioed for transport; then they slid Dr. Coonradt into a PEQ. A guard carried him out of the room, with a guard in front and back, their weapons drawn, prepared for any resistance.
As they were descending the third-story stairs to the second floor, another occupant of the house walked out of his bedroom into the hallway. The man in shadow kept close to the wall, working his way toward the stairway. The guards crouched and silently watched him, giving command time to identify the individual. When Hatch realized who the man was, he was as thrilled as a child finding a new bicycle under the Christmas tree.
“That’s Schema,” Hatch said, his voice shrill with excitement. “Bring him to me.” Hatch then said to the EEG, “If there were a god, besides me, I’d say he was on our side.”
The guards ordered Schema to his knees, and Hatch’s former boss knelt without resistance—in part because he was still half-asleep and terrified, but also because he had subconsciously resigned himself to the fact that he would someday be captured by the Elgen who had put a million-euro bounty on his head.
Schema was also injected with the barbiturate and placed into another PEQ. Then the two men were carried out of the mansion.
With the compound cleared, the first Elgen helicopter landed in the yard next to the house, and the Domguard stowed their precious cargo inside. Ten other guards hurried in after them; then the helicopter quickly took off.
The second helicopter landed a minute after the first had cleared the space, and the remaining fifteen guards climbed inside. Then she too lifted off, leaving the compound smoking and violated, and Samantha wriggling helplessly in her PEQ bag, looking like an oversize, rubber caterpillar. After years of battling the resistance, the entire operation had taken less than forty minutes to complete.
The Black Hawks could cruise at speeds upward of 183 miles per hour, so it took less than three hours to return to Turin. Dr. Coonradt and Schema both woke during the flight, but since they were still confined in the PEQs, they were unable to resist or communicate. That too was Hatch’s plan. Hatch was worried about Dr. Coonradt’s intelligence and his power of persuasion, so the guards had been ordered not to communicate with their prisoner.
After refueling in Turin, the helicopters flew to Rome, where Coonradt and Schema were transferred to an Elgen jet. Once on board, they were let out of the PEQs but handcuffed and hooded. They were flown to Dubai, where the jet refueled; then Hong Kong; and then to their final destination in Funafuti, where Hatch was waiting.
39
Christmas Ranch
While Operation Mute was being carried out on the other side of the world, Captain Smythe, the same commander who had led the attack on Timepiece Ranch in northern Mexico, had commenced his own operation.
Smythe’s helicopter squad had been static since the Timepiece attack, awaiting a transport to Tuvalu, which would require a boat since it was much too far for the helicopters to fly. Again, fate seemed to favor the Elgen. After three delays caused by weather, the squad was still in Mexico and ready for the mission Hatch was sending them on. The helicopter squad not only had experience in attacking the resistance’s ranch, but they were also the only unit within three thousand miles of the target.
The two operations were launched simultaneously. Prior to the attack, Smythe’s squad
made the 375-mile flight to northern Nevada, where the helicopters landed at a private airport and refueled. From there it was only 160 miles to Christmas Ranch. If all went according to plan, they would fly in from the south over the Vermilion Cliffs and attack the ranch just after nightfall.
At seven forty-five p.m. mountain time, Captain Smythe received GPS coordinates for the ranch, detailed attack plans, and orders to attack. The eleven Elgen helicopters flew across the Nevada border, closely following the rugged desert canyon terrain. It took them just thirty-four minutes to reach the ranch, the only structures within miles of the national park.
With Gervaso and the youths gone and no advance warning, Christmas Ranch was ripe for picking, even less well defended than the European headquarters, with only three men on guard duty: two guarding the outer roads and one on the water tower.
The Elgen’s attack orders were simple: capture Sharon Vey, then destroy the ranch and all its inhabitants. The battle plan was to silently take out the water tower guard, then drop three teams of jumpers to capture Vey. (The guards had pictures of Sharon taped to their forearms.) Once she was secured, they would attack the ranch by air with their full payload of Hellfire missiles and napalm.
“This is Elgen One. Destination is one mile ahead,” Captain Smythe said. “Prepare jumpers. Release on my command.”
In the dark, Smythe’s helicopter dropped lower than the rest until it was only slightly above the tree line. It quickly approached the west side of the ranch, carefully following the contour of the land until it was about twelve hundred yards from the water tower, and an Elgen sniper with a night-vision scope silently took out the watchman.
The helicopter quickly gained altitude, then did a flyby over the quiet ranch. There were enough commercial tour helicopters flying over Zion that the helicopter’s presence did not alarm the ranch’s inhabitants, but Smythe wasn’t taking chances. Still, there was no movement below, and most of the buildings were dark.
“Drop jumpers,” Smythe said.
At ten thousand feet, twelve paratroopers jumped with Ram-chute parachutes from four of the helicopters. It was higher than their usual drop, as the helicopters were still hoping to avoid detection. The Elgen jumpers free-fell until about two thousand feet before pulling their chutes and landing just fifty yards south of the water tower, three hundred yards from the main ranch house. Only one of the Elgen had a problem as his chute caught in a cedar tree and he had to cut himself down.
Captain Smythe in Elgen One continued north to the resistance’s road outposts, where he flew down on the two guards, neutralizing them with machine-gun fire.
* * *
The ranch had gone dark earlier than usual. It had been a hard day, and Sharon Vey had been crying for most of it. It was over a week since the Electroclan had been heard from, and the resistance had convened a meeting to discuss a possible rescue mission even though the odds were that the Electroclan was already dead. The meeting was emotional and tense, and nothing had been decided. The Lisses were beside themselves, and Mrs. Liss had screamed at the board. Sharon was angry at herself that she hadn’t stopped her son from participating in a suicide mission.
She was alone in her room getting ready for bed when the guards kicked open her door.
“That’s her,” a guard said, pointing his pistol with a silencer. “Scream and I shoot.”
The guards put Sharon in a PEQ, radioed the helicopter for pickup, and then carried her out back to where they had landed, waving a green laser into the air to signal the helicopter their position.
A few minutes later a chopper descended. The two troopers threw Vey inside, then climbed in themselves. “Fly,” the guard said.
After they were a thousand feet in the air, Captain Smythe came to the back of the Apache and unzipped the PEQ enough for Sharon to put out her head.
“Who are you?” Sharon asked.
“I’m Captain Smythe.”
“Elgen?”
“How many enemies do you have?” Smythe asked.
“Where’s my son?”
“You don’t have the clearance to know that.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You don’t have the clearance to know that.”
“What can you tell me?”
“I can tell you that it’s time to say good-bye to your friends.” He reached back to the control for his microphone. “This is Elgen One. All helos cleared to launch Hellfire missiles on my command. Lethal force is authorized. I repeat, lethal force is authorized.”
“Please . . . don’t,” Sharon said. “You don’t have to hurt them.”
“As a matter of fact I do.” The captain said into his microphone, “All helos let missiles fly.”
“Hellfire missiles away,” came a multitude of replies.
From her window Sharon could see dozens of missiles streaking fire against the black sky, sixteen from each helicopter, scattering across the ranch in a broad swathe, blowing everything apart.
“Elgen Nine and Eleven, fire napalm,” the captain said.
“Elgen Nine. Roger that, One. Napalm firing.”
“Elgen Eleven. Napalm firing.”
More missiles struck the ground, only these lit up the sky with a row of flames three hundred yards long and more than a hundred feet high, the tops of the flames curling with the helicopters’ downdraft.
“God’s wrath,” Captain Smythe said. “Thank you, Nine and Eleven.” The captain set down the microphone and turned back to Sharon. “Are you a God-fearing woman, Mrs. Vey?”
Sharon said nothing, though tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lips were tight with anger.
“You might not believe this,” Smythe said, “but I was an altar boy. Saint Vincent’s in Cherry Creek, New Jersey. I even thought of becoming a priest someday. Imagine that.”
Sharon looked at him hatefully.
“I’m still spiritual. I just chose a different way to do God’s work. Something a little more . . . deliberate.” He took a deep breath. “Look at that down there. It’s biblical. The ‘heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up.’ ” He shook his head. “We are the destroying angels. Unfortunately, your friends are no more.” He lifted the microphone. “This is Elgen One. Mission accomplished. All helos return to Vegas base. Let the beer flow, boys. Tonight it’s on me.”
40
Bait
The Apache helicopters landed in Vegas, and Sharon Vey was moved to the Elgen’s Gulfstream jet, which was waiting for them on the runway, fueled and ready for takeoff. Drenched in her own sweat, Sharon was taken out of the PEQ, handcuffed, and then handed over to the two guards who were waiting to escort her to Tuvalu.
The flight from the U.S. to Tuvalu was a little more than five thousand miles, with only one stop in Honolulu, less than a third of the distance that Dr. Coonradt and Schema were flown. The Gulfstream landed a full twelve hours before Dr. Coonradt arrived.
The guards, at Hatch’s instruction, had informed Sharon of the success of Operation Mute and the capture of the voice. He wanted her completely broken and hopeless before she arrived. The jet had also briefly circled Hades, and the guards had made Sharon look down at the charred and still smoking island.
“What happened down there?” Sharon asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the guard next to her answered cryptically.
Twenty-two minutes later the jet touched down on the Nike runway. Hatch, with his newly received information about the whereabouts of the Tuvaluan rebels, was no longer worried about leaving the Starxource plant, and he, along with six of his guards, met the plane as it landed.
The jet taxied up to where Hatch stood, and the door opened. A guard was the first to emerge, followed closely by the still handcuffed Sharon and then another guard. Her eyes flashed when she saw Hatch.
“Where’s my son?” she shouted.
Hatch grinned. “It
’s good to see you too, Sharon. When was the last time—Peru?”
“Where is he?”
“I knew you’d ask. That’s why I had the pilot make a brief flyover of Hades. Did you look out the window?”
“Where’s my son?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That smoking, burning island? That’s your son. At least what’s left of him. He went supernova on us and destroyed the island. He killed thousands of my men. He killed his friends. Like a suicide bomber with a nuclear weapon strapped to his back. You’ve got to hand it to him, he really went out with a bang.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was. But we both know I’m not. Michael killed some of my best soldiers and sank almost all of my boats. In its own way, it was a valiant last stand—a Hail Mary pass of epic proportions. So you can, at least, find solace in the fact that no one killed your son. He did it himself. Misguided as he was, you could even call him a hero.”
“No!” Sharon shouted.
“I know it must be painful to hear all this, but it’s about choice, Sharon. Michael’s choice. Parents need to let their children make choices. And now you’re going to make choices.”
“Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you just let me die with the rest of my friends?”
“Leverage,” Hatch said. “I needed a little leverage. Or perhaps I should say bait.”
“Bait for whom?” Sharon said. “You’ve already killed everyone.”
“Not everyone, Sharon. Not yet, at least. But, with your help, I soon will.” He turned to her escorting guard. “Take her to Cell 9 in East Block.”
41
Truth Serum
Dr. Coonradt’s plane landed at two in the morning. Hatch didn’t meet him, not because he was worried about being out of the protection of the Starxource plant; rather he didn’t want to extend the courtesy to Dr. Coonradt or disrupt his own sleep. Hatch gave the guards specific instructions. After the exhausting flight, Coonradt was not allowed to lie down to sleep; he was taken directly to a cell and strapped to a chair with the cell lights on. He was to be given nothing to drink, nor was he allowed to leave the chair for any reason, even to use the toilet.