The Jungle (Oregon Files 8)

“Silence!”

Juan recognized John Smith’s voice.

As badly as he wanted to confront Smith, there were too many men to engage, even from above, and because the rubberized belt provided little protection the pair continued to slink away. Only when they had gone well beyond visual range did Cabrillo roll over the conveyor’s edge and drop to the ground. He crouched under the mechanism.

“Good call,” MacD said. “How much time do we have?”

“Thirty seconds, give or take. Come on.”

They took off running again. Then they felt it. The earth barely moved. There was too much solid rock between them and the blast to dramatically shake the ground. It was more like a gentle bump, and then came a quick puff of air as the explosion sent shock waves through every open cavity and chamber. Now it really was a race against time.

27

HUNDREDS OF FEET ABOVE THEM, THE EXPLOSIVES HAD detonated in the confined room that had undercut the river bottom. The shattering blast fractured the already crumbling ceiling, gouging out a fifty-foot plug of salt that crashed to the floor in clouds of choking white dust. Max and the others had felt it where they waited at the entrance to the Maginot Line fortress and could only hope that MacD and Juan were racing for them already.

The thin layer of shale was all that remained between the river and the mine, a layer that had helped prevent the mine from flooding years ago. But without the underpinning of salt, the layer cracked under the weight of the water flowing above it. At first it was just a thin spray that found its way into the mine, but the crack soon widened as the water sought a fresh outlet. The spray turned into a stream, before the entire ceiling collapsed and the river poured in as a roaring cascade that made the opening larger still as it gushed through.

In seconds, nearly every acre-foot of the Arc River was being sucked into the earth as if a drain had been pulled. It was an otherworldly scene, almost biblical in its destructive might. Just a few rivulets managed to pass by the open maw, and it would remain like this until the entire mine flooded.

Moments after the explosion, the tumbling water found the two main shafts leading into the depths and began plunging downward in near-solid columns. Mercer hadn’t included calculations of how fast the mine would become inundated, but it appeared it would take far less time than anyone believed possible, and Cabrillo and Lawless were on the first level above the already flooded sections.

The explosion didn’t cause Juan’s and MacD’s steps to falter, as they kept running. They made it through two more rooms and were just two away from reaching the elevators when they came up short. Off in a distant corner was a brightly lit area that glowed cheerily. They were too far away to see details, but it was an incongruity that gave them both pause.

They crept closer, hugging the walls so as not to give themselves away. The area was partially partitioned off as if to hide the fact that it was deep underground, and through an opening they could see furniture had been brought from the surface so that Gunawan Bahar would be as comfortable as possible in his lair. No one was about at the moment, and the two men moved hastily away and soon found another incongruity. It was a steel box twice the size of a shipping container. It was too large to have been brought down the elevator, so Bahar must have had it constructed there.

Its size was the only thing comparable to a container, for this thing had smooth stainless steel sides and the sleek look of a high-tech machine. Dozens of cables snaked out of it like tentacles. These were power and data feeds, with multiple redundancies built in.

A glass vestibule protruded off one side, and within they could see the white coveralls commonly called bunny suits used in clean environments. There were pegs for four of them, but only three dangled like deflated balloons.

“Bahar?” Lawless asked.

“Doubtlessly,” Cabrillo replied, and changed out his partially empty magazine for a fresh one.

He opened the door and was hit by a gust of air from the overpressurized space. This was another measure to keep contaminants away from the quantum computer. He glanced at MacD, to sync up their timing, and spun the doorknob at the same time, throwing his full weight against it. He went low while Lawless covered overtop of him. They needn’t have bothered because this room was one more layer of protection, a second empty vestibule, with degaussing mats on the floor.

They repeated the maneuver on the final door and burst into a large open space that hummed with electronics. This was Murph’s and Stoney’s dreamworld. The computer and its peripherals dominated the room, an eerie black presence that somehow seemed alive. Juan could feel its raw power, and the hairs on his arms came erect.

“Are they dead?” an unseen Bahar asked, assuming it was Smith/ Mohammad coming back with a report.

“No,” a woman’s voice replied from speakers mounted in the ceiling. “They are here. Welcome, Chairman Cabrillo. I’ve been monitoring your progress.”

Juan felt a sudden chill as he realized he was being addressed by a computer.

Gunawan Bahar appeared from around the computer core and stared goggle-eyed at the two armed men confronting him. He looked ridiculous with only his face showing under the hood of the clean suit. “No,” he said. “It’s impossible. Nothing can breach the surface bunker.”

“Probably right,” Juan agreed with a lit

tle smile. “We never tried. Move over there.”

The computer spoke again. “My predecessor, a machine called the Oracle, calculated that you and the Corporation would not be paralyzed into inaction by Mr. Bahar’s plan. I believed you would, and I think convention dictates that I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had my doubts too.”

“Chairman, may I ask a question?” the computer asked politely.

“Ahh, sure.”

“What do you intend to do to me?”