Chapter 46
Dixon smiled. “Roger had a penchant for the dramatic.” She added, “The answer is yes, I can.”
Taylor asked, “And will you?”
Dixon looked at her. “We’ve all been lied to, manipulated, and used. Good men are dead. I didn’t sign up for this and I have no problem nuking this whole goddamn thing.”
“Good,” said Taylor. “Let’s go.”
They exited the house. The Rangers guarding the door turned to them and one of the guys held up his hand. “She can’t leave. General Morgan’s orders.”
Dixon, ever the diplomat, suggested, “Fuck him, and fuck you.”
Brodie stepped in and asked, “Where is Sergeant Mendez?”
The Rangers exchanged a look, and one of them said, “Confined to barracks.”
“And where are his subordinate MPs?”
“Also confined to barracks.”
“Are there currently any law enforcement authorities on this base who are not under home confinement?”
“Yes, sir,” said the Ranger, trying his best not to look annoyed. “You and Ms. Taylor.”
“That’s right. We are in the middle of an active investigation and are bringing Ms. Dixon along with us as a qualified expert in her field. Feel free to repeat all that to the general.”
“Yes, sir.”
They walked past the Rangers and to Caroline Dixon’s car, a Toyota Prius that looked like it might become airborne if the winds picked up more.
Dixon noticed the distant thunderheads. “That’s not good.”
Brodie checked his watch. “We have about an hour and forty minutes before that’s on top of us. Let’s go.”
They climbed into Dixon’s car—Brodie took shotgun—and she drove toward the security checkpoint. Brodie had to wag his dick again to get them through, and then Dixon drove east.
Taylor asked, “If you can do this from the Vault, then why didn’t Ames? Why did he have to go through all the effort of getting Bucky into the lab?”
Dixon replied, “Because he wanted to make sure it worked on one unit before doing it to all of them. He didn’t want to break Camp Hayden’s toys. But we don’t care.”
That was for sure. Brodie realized they were going to be facing a significant security presence once they reached the Vault—a presence that he himself had recommended to Morgan. He unclipped his walkie, switched to Channel 1, and said, “Brodie for General Morgan. Over.”
After a moment Morgan’s voice came over the walkie. “You took Dixon, you son of a bitch.”
“Yes, sir. We need her access and expertise in the Vault. Over.”
“The Vault? You’re not going down there. No one in or out. Remember? Even those you trust. And that doesn’t include you anyway. Over.”
Dixon rounded a corner and pulled over about fifty feet from the Vault. Morgan had pulled out all the stops—four Rangers armed with EMP rifles, three more with standard rifles, and one with a grenade launcher, plus a guy on the roof with a mounted M2 Browning machine gun for good measure.
Brodie said, “Sir, we must get down there. I can’t tell you why on an open channel. Over.”
“Then get back here and tell me to my face like you should have done the first time.”
“There’s no time for that, sir. Over.”
“Why?”
“Because the threat level is high. Because someone with worse intentions than us might try to get in there. Or something down there might be able to get itself out. Over.”
“How the hell is that possible?”
“The tin men keep surprising us.”
“An M2 with armor-piercing bullets can take care of any surprises, Mr. Brodie. Request denied. Over and out.”
Brodie lowered the walkie. Stubborn son of a bitch. He eyed the Rangers. He probably wasn’t going to be able to talk his way through that.
Dixon looked at him. “What’s the move?”
“Let’s wing it,” said Brodie. He opened his door.
Taylor said to her, “When working with Scott, that’s always the move.”
They all got out and approached the Rangers. Brodie spotted Sergeant Miller among them, holding an M4 with live ammo. He looked exhausted.
Brodie said, “Good afternoon, Sergeant. Glad you get to stretch your legs.”
Miller smirked. “Thank you, sir.”
“How’s Greer?”
One of the other Rangers chuckled. Miller said, “Sleeping. You guys have a good time?”
“It was eye-opening,” said Brodie. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He walked toward the Vault door.
Miller stepped in front of him. “Can’t allow that, sir.”
“I know. You’re following orders. But I want you to think of the D-17s down there as fifty-eight loitering munitions with a targeting system on the fritz. It doesn’t take much for them to fire, and their targets will be all of us. We want to go down into that bunker and disarm them. That’s all.”
Miller replied, “That sounds reasonable to me. Take it to the general.”
“Sergeant, this tiny camp had a four-person officer corps. One of them is dead, one of them is in detention, and one of them has lost his fucking mind. That leaves Captain Pickman, who we both agree is an asshole, and who would never have the balls to listen to reason and go against Morgan.” He added, “I used to be in your position, Sergeant. I know what it is to be an NCO. You have a special responsibility and earn a special kind of trust from those under your command.”
Miller did not reply.
Taylor stepped in and said, “If we’re wrong about this, you might face a court-martial. But if we’re right, and you don’t let us in…” She paused. “Sixty-seven engagements, Sergeant. And you’re oh for sixty-seven. And that was against only a dozen of them.”
Miller sighed. “And you’re telling me you think they can… get out on their own?”
Dixon said, “We don’t know, Sergeant. We’re in uncharted waters.”
“And you really want to go down there?”
“Want? No. We need to. With the full awareness that we are risking our lives.”
Miller took a moment, then said, “All right. But we’re sending a few guys with you.”
“That’s not necessary,” said Dixon. “We either succeed, or we fail. If we fail, we’re dead, and you’re going to need all the manpower you have up here.”
Miller eyed Dixon with a new respect, or at least a new regard. Then he said to one of his guys, “Get me two EMP rifles.”
The Ranger walked to a nearby truck and grabbed two rifles out of the back. He handed them to Miller, who gave them to Taylor and Dixon. He asked Dixon, “You ever handle a rifle?”
“I’ve designed rifles, Sergeant.”
Miller looked at Brodie and said to his men, “And get Sergeant Brodie here an M203, a carry vest, and a few suicide rounds.”
Brodie said, “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Miller smiled. “We’ve been cheating a little in the training exercises.
Most of the dummy grenade rounds we shoot would never arm themselves in time to explode on impact.
The tin men simply get too close, too fast. In the event we ever had to deal with them outside a simulation, Corporal Reyes, the whiz who designed the EMP bomb, stripped the grenade rounds of their weighted pins and moved the detonator forward so it’s almost touching the firing pin.
They’ll explode on impact no matter the firing distance, but that makes the rounds a lot more volatile.
” He walked over to the Ranger with the grenade launcher and carefully removed a grenade round from the man’s carry vest, then brought it over.
He showed them the rounded tip. “You so much as press down on this with a bit of pressure, it’s going to blow up in your hand.
You fire it too close to your target, and you’re flame-broiling your own ass along with the enemy’s. ” He smiled again. “Suicide round.”
A Ranger handed Brodie a carry vest. He put it on and said to Taylor, “Don’t be jealous.” A Ranger handed him an M203 launcher.
Miller said, “There’s one round chambered, and here’s some more.” He carefully slipped eight grenade rounds into the front pockets of Brodie’s vest.
One of the guys said, “Don’t trip.” They all laughed. This was a gas.
Dixon slung her rifle over her shoulder, then walked to the door to the Vault and pressed her fob against the security plate. Sergeant Miller input the keypad code and Dixon opened the door. They all entered the anteroom.
Dixon approached the elevator doors. She said to Miller, “We’ll take the elevator both ways. You hear something coming up the stairs, you run.”
“No, ma’am,” said Miller. “We stand and fight.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Dixon. “You’ll need to regroup.”
“That would give them a chance to escape.”
“They’re not looking to escape, Sergeant. They’re looking to hunt down and kill every last person on this base.”
Miller had no response to that.
Dixon pressed the button to open the elevator doors. They all entered, and Dixon pressed her fob to the security pad inside the elevator. Miller input the keypad code, then stepped out. “You sure you don’t want backup?”
Brodie said, “Stop trying to hog the fun, Sarge. See you soon.”
The doors closed on Sergeant Miller, and the elevator slowly descended.
The three of them looked at each other, communicating wordlessly as the elevator rumbled down the shaft.
Brodie knew this moment. He’d been here before. They were entering hostile territory, and no one knew what would happen. It could be a big nothing, your nerves jangled for no reason, and you’d laugh about it later. Or it could be the last moments of your life. You don’t know until you know.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened.