Empire (Empire 1)

“That would be smart,” said Cat.

“Well, only semi-smart,” said Cole. “Smart would be to give himself up peacefully and denounce us for violating Washington’s neutrality.”

“Nobody’s gonna buy that now,” said Cat.

“Come on,” said Cole. “People buy any lie they want bad enough to believe. We’re the U.S. Army. When we screw up, everybody thinks it’s on purpose and some of us should go to jail. Even when we win, they think we screwed up. What Army were you in, anyway?”

“My bad,” said Cat.

“One level up from here,” said Cole. “Gotta be a stairway somewhere.”

“Maybe not,” said Cat. “Maybe just a closet door.”

“Leading into Narnia?”

“Leading to a stair

way.”

There weren’t all that many doors, but all of them were locked. In the movies, people always shot doors open. But shooting a deadbolt lock didn’t withdraw the deadbolt from the socket. And these were heavy doors, with lots of metal. Bullets could ricochet. Shrapnel could fly. You could kill yourself shooting at doors like these. Not to mention they didn’t want to scare Verus into jumping down his rabbit hole—if he had one.

“Desks,” said Cole. He headed back for one of the rooms full of cubicles and opened drawer after drawer, lifting up papers and feeling around inside.

Sure enough, he found a key that looked like it might do the job. Somebody forgot he had a spare in his desk. Happened all the time.

It wasn’t a master key, but it did open two of the first three doors they tried. Naturally, Cole assumed that the one it didn’t open was the one they wanted, but the third door opened to reveal a normal flight of stairs going upward.

And up and up. It wasn’t just one story up, it was way up. Maybe not all that far from the observation tower on top of the mountain between the lakes.

They ran up at a measured pace—didn’t want to be caught out of breath at the top, just in case somebody had a weapon waiting for them.

There it was. Command and Control. A single room full of screens and computers and control panels and gauges. These computers hadn’t been blown up, because these didn’t contain incriminating data, they just controlled the local machinery.

Cole moved into the room. Now he could see another door, labeled “Restroom.” Standing near it were two men. One of them was Verus, in slacks and an open-collared short-sleeved white shirt. The other man was wearing a business suit and holding an AK-47.

“Just go back down the stairs,” said the man with the gun. “Nobody has to get hurt.”

Cole shot him in the head. He dropped like a rock.

“Calm down now,” said Verus.

Cat moved into the room behind Cole and began scanning the controls. “Here’s the control for the doors,” said Cat. “Still open. There are still trucks going out. And the tunnel—flooded. Hey, thanks for that, Aldo. We’re still not dry.”

“You had no right to come here,” said Verus.

No point in arguing with him about who had a right to attack New York City and kill the cops, or chase Cole through DC and Maryland to get Reuben’s PDA.

“And here’s the lake levels,” said Cat. “One shaft is already open, pouring water back in from Genesseret.”

“Can you close it?” asked Cole.

It was Verus who answered. “You can’t close the upper gate until the Genesseret water level falls to normal.”

“How many shafts?” asked Cole.

“Six.”

“So it’s refilling at one-sixth of the maximum rate,” said Cole. “Still too fast. Close it.”