Instinct (2010) Page 5

  None of the other soldiers acknowledged her, giving her no more than a second’s glance as they turned to greet Carter and Webster. She was surprised to see that at least two of them were female, although it was hard to distinguish in the low fluorescent light, covered as they were with half-grapefruit headphones that made them all look alike. Andrew still infused her every thought, but against tough competition: the sensory and conceptual overload she had to process made her feel like she was underwater, straining to make her way to the surface.

  An hour into the flight, Laura had no idea where they were. Even if she had paid attention since take-off, flying at night with nothing to help give her bearings meant she could be anywhere an hour’s plane ride from Norfolk. Did that mean France, or Denmark? Ireland, or the Atlantic Ocean?

  At two hours, she felt the engines winding down and the forward movement slowing. They seemed to be landing, so she looked out of the window for any clues to where they were and where they might be holding Andrew. She had imagined him in some US Airforce base in a desert somewhere, waiting for her in a cell, a plaintive expression on his smooth, soft face.

  Only the immediate area was visible, and it was little different from the runway they had taken off from. A man on the ground attached a fuel pump to the side of the plane, they waited ten minutes, the man detached the pump and they were airborne again.

  Shit. When was she going to see Andrew? Major Webster took a glance back towards her. He caught her eye and tried an encouraging smile. The disdain in her face made him think he should try a bit harder, so he went to sit in the row in front of her.

  In order to be heard by Laura but no one else, Webster had to half-yell behind his hand. ‘I’m sorry to say this again, but you’re going to have to trust us. We’ve got one more stop before we get to our destination, and I’ll tell you now, Andrew is not there. We’d have sent you straight to Venezuela, but the need to find you coincided with one of our operations, so there was no one free to escort you to MEROS. That means you’re going to see what we do first, which will take about an hour, then it’s going to be another twelve hours back to where Andrew is. Is that OK? Is it better now you know?’ Laura nodded quickly to get him to leave her alone then went back to staring out of the window.

  8

  Eight hours into the flight, Laura was aching all over. The seats were way below economy class, and she had to keep shifting around on the thin foam cushion to stop her buttocks going numb. One of the soldiers had brought her some revolting food: a weird plastic cake called a Twinkie and some tough sandwiches, curled up at the ends like rotten lino, which she was led to believe contained chicken salad but were actually filled with some kind of regurgitated beige mush. Everyone else happily guzzled Coke, a substance Laura could not stand, so she was given some mineral water that used to be cold and fizzy but now tasted like it had been siphoned from the bath of a flatulent pensioner.

  For the second time the engines slowed and she felt the lurch in her stomach as they lost altitude. Was this just another refuelling? She could tell immediately it was not; the soldiers were far more active than on any of the other descents, unpacking and strapping on equipment and clothing ready for whatever was about to happen.

  It was another dark landing on another remote runway. This time the terrain was featureless, with nothing but blank, flat land as far as the eye could see.

  The soldiers collected their gear, dumped it together on the tarmac and got to work unloading the cargo.

  Webster beckoned Laura over. ‘We’re just changing vehicles. The next destination is our last, but the terrain requires a helicopter.’

  ‘Where are we?’ asked Laura.

  ‘Put this on.’ He handed her a dark-green army jacket. ‘The desert gets cold at night.’

  They walked down the steps at the side of the plane and over to the landing pad where the Chinook CH-47 sat ready for take-off. Two of the soldiers were moving the larger crates with forklift trucks to speed up the transfer, while the others carried the rest of the equipment across by hand.

  Within half an hour of landing, they had taken up their positions on the helicopter. Madison engaged the ignition and the quiet instantly turned to a deafening thunder as the blades of the chopper thwumped into life.

  Laura had never been in a helicopter, so the journey, sweeping low across the plains then soaring up over the mountains, became yet another new and unwelcome assault on her senses. It was dark outside and she was disorientated as the Chinook lurched at sharp angles over jagged peaks then plunged through the turbulence of valleys.

  After an hour, the slowing blades and loss of altitude finally signalled their arrival.

  Major Webster barked a command through the intercom: ‘Approaching target. Approaching target. Prepare for full engagement and containment, T minus twenty minutes and counting.’

  Laura peered out of the window and watched as the helicopter circled a small, flat plain in the foothills of a mountain range that faded into the moonlight behind it.

  The soldiers, already indistinct, were now rendered anonymous by night-vision goggles that obscured most of their faces. Seven of them jumped on to the rocky terrain, taking various camouflaged trunks and boxes with them. Although it was alien to Laura, the soldiers moved without thought, as if this were as familiar as brushing their teeth. Not a second was wasted in mistakes or confusion as the equipment was unloaded and laid out in its proper place across the rocks and sand.

  Webster waited until all the crates had been carried out before approaching Laura. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ he frowned above the whine of the slowing blades, ‘but we need to make sure you are completely safe, so you’re going to stick close by me and I’m not going to let you out of my sight. If you are in any way thinking of escaping, I should just tell you that we are in North-eastern Afghanistan, at least a hundred miles from civilization, and that’s the kind of civilization that has little time for an English-speaking white woman.’ He smiled, trying to puncture the blackmail of his last sentence.

  ‘I know this has been tough on you, but I promise everything will become clear very soon.’ He gave Laura a set of night-vision goggles, strapping his own over his forehead. ‘Come on.’

  They stepped down on to the plain in time to see the final preparations of the soldiers. Although Laura had no problem recognizing a gun, she had never seen anything like the weaponry being set up around her. One piece of equipment resembled a black metallic umbrella with blue lasers where the spokes would be; another consisted of a whirring disc at the end of a funnel which emitted a harsh, grinding drone whenever the trigger was pressed. Covering the entire area was a dense green fog that seeped from a device resembling a portable generator crossed with a Star Wars droid.

  Once every crate had been opened and its contents removed, the froth of activity reduced to a simmer. One of the soldiers was making a few adjustments to some of the smaller devices, but the others had stopped moving with any real purpose and were now looking to Major Webster for further instructions. Seeing this, he strode towards them, his voice ringing out clear and sharp like a trumpet solo.

  ‘OK, people, we have a tight homing of A-22s and A-24s. Recon has indicated that they have killed at least one human beyond the identified target, so be prepared for a greater degree of aggression. Mills and Garrett, take the light and ripple at point; Carter and Jacobs, gas; Van Arenn and Wainhouse, support and clean-up. One more thing: you may have noticed we are carrying a civilian. This is Dr Laura Trent. She is a genetic entomologist, the best in her field, and this is her introduction to what we do. Van Arenn, we’re going to need a live, unharmed specimen.’ He paused to see if there was any doubt in the eyes of his troops. Satisfied that they were prepared and confident, he gave a quick shout. ‘All right. Let’s go.’

  Laura watched as two men she assumed to be Mills and Garrett primed their weapons and jogged steadily upwards, the foothills steepening into mountains beneath t
heir feet. The other soldiers followed, masked head to foot in further protective clothing.

  The mystery continued. Although Laura now knew her presence there had something to do with her expertise in insect genetics, her thoughts raced to think of what it was that connected the military with entomology. Were they wiping out crops to destroy supplies to terrorists? Had they introduced a host to breed out a beneficial species of parasite? Maybe they were tracking swarm patterns to see if they were registering any human interaction. Despite her situation, Laura couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. She was being let in on a new and apparently secret aspect of her life’s interest, and she wanted to know why.

  Webster took her to the base of the path that led up to the caves then indicated that they should stop and wait at a small dip in the rocks where they would be sheltered from the wind. He offered Laura a coffee from his flask, which she declined with a wordless shake of her head.

  Two hundred feet above them, the rest of the soldiers were approaching the target area. Mills looked ahead then changed focus to check the eye-mounted distance indicator that gave a more accurate idea of where the quarry lay. As they inched forward, Garrett stopped and raised her hand, halting the patrol. Amid the buffeting swoosh of the wind, they all listened for the familiar dense hum that signalled the beginning of the real work. They looked at each other, giving eerie, faceless nods to confirm what Garrett had heard.

  Mills moved ahead until he came to the mouth of the cave. Checking the distance one more time, he looked back at Garrett and beckoned her forward. She removed a plastic casing from her belt and opened it to reveal a chrome ovoid with a black indentation at one end. Pressing this, she twisted the top 180 degrees, took one more look at Mills then placed it into a dark, round receptacle at the end of a brushed-steel tube. Sliding back a panel from the rear of the tube, she revealed a trigger, aimed for the centre of the cave and fired.

  There was no loud bang, only a dense electronic drawl, as if the tiny beep of a digital watch had been stretched and amplified a thousand times. The ovoid shot into the depths of the cave like a cannonball, and the soldiers immediately retreated down the cave path, shut their eyes tight and turned away. The explosion of light that followed was so bright it illuminated Laura and Webster. The major barely acknowledged the eruption of bleaching white, but Laura jumped as if the mountain were about to collapse. Then the light disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the landscape unchanged.

  The drone that rumbled from within the cave had been reduced to a few stuttering hums.

  That was the signal for Mills to load his own weapon. It didn’t have an official name, as it had arrived from the Pentagon in the same way as all MEROS-specific technology: in an unmarked box with nothing but a serial number and a set of instructions. In spite of this, the soldiers needed to call them something and had christened this one the Ripple Gun. Cocking it like a 12-bore, Mills pointed it into the cave and held on tight as the flared end of its umbrella-like form whirred round hard and fast. His feet shook as if he were using a pneumatic drill, the revolutions turning faster and faster, grinding into his shoulder at one end, amplified by lasers at the other. It was sending out a wave of low-frequency vibrations that caused the ground to shudder like the tail of an earthquake. The effect was uncomfortable for humans, but for anything smaller it felt like time spent inside a washing machine; no permanent damage, but it would be a while before they knew which way was up.

  The movement subsided, gradually dwindling to nothing. It always took the soldiers a minute to readjust to the return of calm, but when they were ready, Mills and Garrett stepped aside to let Carter and Jacobs take their places.

  This was the point at which the mission became tricky. There were always targets that remained unaffected by the two preparatory measures, either buried in the depths of the nest or separated from the others on a search for food. Both Carter and Jacobs could see on their head-mounted motion sensors that several of them were indeed active, and it was their job to make sure these rogues posed no further threat.

  Senses heightened, they stepped further into the cave and drew identical weapons. Like all the small arms used by the team, these handguns resembled the equipment of conventional warfare but were advanced far beyond the use of something so crude as a bullet. Instead of a trigger beneath a barrel, the ammunition was dispatched by sensors attached to the user’s synapses. When they came close to anything they were trying to immobilize, the gun pointed at exactly what they were looking at, assessed the distance and size of the target and fired at the point where it would cause most damage. It took some getting used to; with no need to aim or shoot, a strong instinct was removed from the process, but it was 100 per cent accurate and left no surplus ammunition at the scene.

  The shells were like miniature canisters of enhanced CS gas, so they exploded on impact in a cloud of thin, freezing vapour that filled the air and clung to every surface. This was the main reason for the protective suits. Although not fatal to humans, the vapour could cause temporary paralysis, as it did for its intended targets.

  Carter took the left side of the cave and Jacobs the right. Stepping forward as if on thin ice, Carter gently set down each tread of his sole with as little sound as possible. He wanted nothing to distract him or Jacobs from any more significant noises.

  As they approached the nest, it became harder to keep the fear at bay. There had yet to be a mission in which all the wasps were incapacitated, so it was only a matter of time before –

  The first one shot out of the corner to Carter’s left. He caught it immediately, sending a shell straight through its head.

  The sharp report of his weapon made Jacobs turn and see if she should get involved. She needn’t, but it meant she missed the one on her side: a clatter of frantic wings that headed straight towards her.

  She moved her arm across to take a shot, but too late. It was in her face now, flapping across her mask, looking to get a grip on something.

  Carter raised his weapon, but Jacobs’ arms were too close to the wasp. A muffled fuck came from beneath her mask.

  Several of them were using the distraction to rise up on Carter’s side. Two headed towards him while another pair aimed for his back.

  But Carter was fast and alert. He whipped his armed hand round in a wide arc that took all four of them out in less than a second.

  Jacobs was still struggling, and Carter realized they didn’t have time for this. It could penetrate her protective suit at any moment.

  He waited for a safe opening …

  waited …

  waited …

  crack!

  The canister ripped the wasp in two. It fell to the ground in its still-twitching halves.

  Jacobs calmed quickly enough to feel she had let Carter down. He could just make out a sorry from behind her mask.

  No problem, he replied.

  That seemed to be it. Looking around the cave for more movement, the sensors detected nothing, so Carter and Jacobs shut off their weapons, withdrew to a safe distance and allowed Van Arenn and Wainhouse to take their places.

  Before clean-up could begin, Van Arenn had to secure that unharmed specimen for Dr Trent, a task that created twice as much danger as simply wiping them out. It meant they could not engage the pyroballistics until one of the little bastards had been captured, and all for that civilian who was drinking hot coffee down where it was nice and safe.

  He had done it many times before: post-operational analysis had required specimen collection on every mission until three years ago, when they had managed to increase efficiency to a point where such precautions were no longer needed. In the early days, they had to see what changes, if any, had occurred to the wasps after deployment of the weapons. Now, they knew the alterations were not significant enough to require this measure.

  As Wainhouse kept an eye on his motion sensor, Van Arenn removed a flat, square package from his back
pack and inched forward. He would certainly come across them soon, but it was the element of surprise that made his job the riskiest. Mills and Garrett’s light and ripple had a range that was almost perfect, but that margin of error was what could cost Van Arenn his life. Caves like this were the most dangerous, because no one could tell how far their depths snaked back, or whether overhangs and outcrops could shield the insects from the effects of the weapons. In addition, the CS gas could never be relied on completely, as it had to dovetail with any new genetic alterations. The rate of failure was low, but not quite low enough.

  Van Arenn was among them now, advancing with as little disturbance as possible. He looked ahead to see the familiar signs: the nest structure, like a vast, crusty spread of brown honeycomb, and the first of them, lying on their backs, temporarily anaesthetized by the primary weapons.

  His concentration was broken by the unusual feeling below his left boot. He looked down to see the bones of a human laid out in skeleton formation from the toes to the skull. Although Van Arenn had seen this sort of thing many times, the size of these bones made him stop a little longer. This one couldn’t have been much more than a child. He had to stop himself thinking of the moment when the wasps had attacked, the fear of a boy who could do little as the skin and tissue was gripped then torn from his body, quickly, but inch by inch.

  Ten yards in and the wasps were piled up to his knees, so he was wading more than walking. This was far enough. He looked down, trying to find a good-sized specimen with its wings spread out. They always looked better that way.

  There was a perfect example on top of the heap, just to his left. It had frozen in flight, each of its wings extended to the width of one of his large palms.