After apprising the LAPD brass and FBI of the latest communications, Decker and his crew waited for instructions. Marge was interviewed first, her phone immediately confiscated. Lots of questions; for every ten people, there were eleven opinions. The diversity led the top brass to convene yet another task force operative in the form of—guess what?—another meeting. Even had Decker been invited—which he wasn’t—he would have excused himself. With so many people calling the shots, chances of a screw-up were great.
The consensus was that the phone call had been a trap. Marge took the role of the lone voice of dissent. She stood against the elm tree, staring at the lifeless building, sipping coffee from a paper cup. With her were Decker, Oliver and Special-Agent-in-Charge Bennett McCarry, who had joined the group by default. Their own small task force—one devoid of power and importance, but at least her voice could be heard. She rubbed her eyes, blinking back glare from the overcast, mid-morning sky. Mr. Sun was trying valiantly to break through the pewter clouds.
“If Bob really wanted to hook us, why didn’t he use a kid on the phone? He knows we’d be more likely to take risks for children.”
“Kids are unreliable,” answered McCarry.
“Not the Order’s kids,” Marge responded. “They’ve been programmed to be little robots.”
Recalling her interview with fourteen-year-old Vega, thinking about the glimmer of light behind the young teen’s eyes as she spoke about the Little Prince’s adventures into magical worlds. Such a bright child, yet she had lived out her short life behind concrete walls, her mind crammed with hard-nose sciences, and the false faith of a guru, dropout astrophysicist. A pain shot through Marge’s heart.
McCarry was talking. “…like she was talking under someone else’s orders?”
“The woman on the phone?” Marge asked.
McCarry almost repressed his annoyance. “Yes, Detective. The woman on the phone. Did she sound like she was repeating someone else’s orders?”
Marge pondered the question. “To me, she sounded genuinely scared.”
Oliver said, “Even if it’s a ploy to draw us out, we still can’t ignore it.”
Decker said, “I’m sure the current task force is working on it.”
“Why aren’t you with them?” Oliver asked.
“Guess I’ve been kicked out of the loop.” Decker yawned, then faced McCarry. “So what’s your excuse for hanging around us losers when you could be part of the bigwigs?”
McCarry shrugged. “I like losers. Feel at home with them.”
Decker smiled. He knew a couple of reasons why McCarry elected to stay. First, Decker had clout—albeit minimal—with Bob. Maybe the FBI agent wanted to ride his wave. But more than that, Decker sensed that McCarry had grown tired of useless meetings. He was beginning to warm up to the agent, sensing a reciprocal thaw. There were small signs of mutual trust. Things like McCarry getting Decker’s people fresh coffee when he had exited the task force’s trailer.
The agent asked, “Where are the other two? Blondie and Mustache?”
“Martinez and Webster?” Decker rephrased. “They’re petitioning to subpoena Reuben Asnikov’s files.”
“Which judge are they asking for the warrant?” Marge asked.
“Ryan.”
“Good choice.”
“Asnikov’s a first-class bastard,” McCarry shot out. “Sitting on information while there are kids inside.”
“Asnikov claims he’s never rescued anyone from the Order,” Oliver said.
McCarry said, “You ever mention him to anyone in the Order? See their reaction?”
Marge said, “Couple of times.”
“To them, he’s the devil, right?”
“In the flesh.”
McCarry sipped coffee. “You don’t elicit naked hatred unless you’ve messed them up. Over the years the L.A. Bureau alone has received close to fifty kidnapping complaints against him.”
“Kidnapping complaints from the Order?” Marge asked.
McCarry shook his head. “Order would never contact the FBI about Asnikov. First of all, they’re kidnappers themselves. Second, the gurus all have clouded pasts, I’m convinced of it. No, most of the complaints against Reuben have come from divorced parents. Kidnapping kids for one parent or the other. You know the scenario. Dad decides to stick it to Mom by kidnapping sonny.”
Decker asked, “Does Asnikov kidnap for the custodial or noncustodial parent?”
“He swings both ways. We have at least fifteen cases where he’s taken the kid away from the court-assigned parent. Although in a few cases, looks like the court made a mistake. I’d say the bulk of his work consists of returning kids to the custodial parent.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Marge said. “That’s restoration.”
“In theory, no.” McCarry’s eyes turned steely. “It’s his methods.”
“It’s your kid, you have the legal rights, the system is failing you…” Marge shrugged. “I don’t see a problem.”
“It’s vigilante justice,” McCarry said.
“To me, it’s plain justice.”
The agent didn’t press it. Decker looked around the area teeming with steel and flesh—cars, trucks, SWAT vans and other assorted vehicles along with newspaper and TV people with cameras, spotlights, makeup personnel (mascara and foundation run in the fog) and sound booms and mikes. In the last two hours, the bodies seemed to have multiplied by mitosis. An ant farm in macrocosm. Everyone just waiting for something to happen.
Decker said, “We could cut the manpower in half without losing anything.”
“At least by half,” McCarry agreed. “What a waste of money.” To Marge, he said, “My techs are wiring your line to our tape machine in one of our equipment vans. They should be done in fifteen minutes. You’ll need to stick around in case someone calls you.”
Oliver said, “In the meantime, Loo, I think we should look for the alleged hole in the fence. See if it even exists. I’ve got a pair of binocs in the trunk of the car.”
“Sure, go look, Scott. Who knows what you might find?” To McCarry, Decker asked, “Does anyone in your agency have any idea if the compound’s doors and windows are really hot-wired?”
“Nobody,” McCarry answered.
Oliver spoke. “The phone call said that Bob was in the process of wiring the fence. I’m just wondering if maybe Bob already has. Like he has a switch to turn it on and off. So we plan our move thinking that everything’s copacetic. Then the moment Bob sees us futzing with the fence, he flips on the juice, turning us into crispies.”
But Decker was staring off into the distance.
Marge asked, “What’re you looking at?”
“At ten o’clock…just before the ropes.” Decker pointed several hundred feet to the left of the cordoned-off press area. “Looks like some kind of security break.”
Several uniformed men were interrogating a woman wearing jeans, a black turtleneck sweater and red Keds sneakers.
They were more than interrogating her; she was handcuffed. She was rocking on her feet. On closer inspection, she was stamping them on the ground.
Her body language seemed young…the energy with which she moved. She was thin with long, stringy brown hair. She appeared to be shouting although Decker couldn’t hear from where he stood. Within seconds, the officers had closed rank around her, and she was buried beneath a blanket of blue security uniform shirts. Then the seas parted, and two of the men started dragging her off, the toes of her red sneakers digging tracks into the ground.
Marge said, “C’mon, Scott. Let’s check it out.”
Oliver took the last sips of his coffee and tossed the cup in a brown shopping bag that had been designated as garbage. “I’m with you, babe.”
Decker rubbed his forehead as he watched them jog toward the scene. He saw them flash ID, then talk to the group of officers as the woman was being shoved unceremoniously into a black-and-white. At first, Marge seemed to be nodding with a distracted air. But within moments, her entire expression underwent a radical change. Even at this distance, Decker saw her eyes widen several diameters.
As the police car began to pull out, Oliver bolted to the front of the cruiser as Marge rushed over and banged on the passenger window. Decker heard her screaming, but again he couldn’t discern any intelligible speech. Abruptly, the police car braked, and jerked backward. Marge didn’t even wait until the car was motionless. She yanked open the back door and stuck her head inside.
Without a word, Decker began to run toward the car. He could hear McCarry sprinting behind him. Obviously, he had the same idea.
As Marge attempted to help her out of the car, the girl kicked up dust, legs flailing in every direction as she tried to break from Marge’s grip.
“Get your fucking paws off of me!”
“Just calm—”
“…come here, risking my life, and you morons try to arrest me!”
“The officers didn’t know—”
“So they should shut up and listen! I knew I shouldn’t have come back!” The girl continued to struggle against Marge’s grasp. “Let go of me, you idiot!”
Marge released her hold, and the girl flew backward, landing on her butt. Wordlessly, Marge gripped her arm and pulled her back to her feet.
The girl said nothing for a moment, wiggling her hands. “Think you can take your B and D fun bands off my wrists?”
Marge said, “I’m on your side—”
“Listen, girlfriend, you want to build rapport, take the handcuffs off!”
Breathlessly, Decker stopped in front of the girl, looking deep into her eyes, recalling the lone fuzzy picture of Andromeda that he had seen. It could have gone both ways. “Are you Lauren Bolt?”
“Depends who’s asking,” the girl answered defiantly. “Who’re you?”
“Lieutenant Peter Decker—LAPD. Where’s Lyra?”
“None of your damn business!”
“Just tell me…” Decker was still breathing hard. “Tell me that she’s okay. Please.” A breath. “All I want you to say is that she’s okay!”
For the first time, the girl seemed to sense concern. “She’s okay.”
“Safe?”
She nodded.
“That’s good.” Decker put his hand to his chest. “One less thing to gnaw at my gut.”
“You’ve been looking for her?”
“Looking for the both of you. The Order claims that you were kidnapped by Reuben Asnikov.”
A disdainful snort. “Sounds like something the Order would say.” Another snort—more forceful. “Sounds like something Pluto would say. Pompous ass. Is he really dead?”
“Yes.”
“Wish it would have been Nova—”
“Nova?” Marge asked.
Lauren regarded Marge. “You know him?”
“We’ve interviewed him,” Oliver said.
A light of recognition behind the eyes. “That’s right. I was still there when you did. Guess he forgot to tell you he’s a perv! They’re all perverts. But he’s the worst because he likes kids.”
“Nova’s dead, ma’am,” Oliver said.
A smile spread across Lauren’s lips. “Now if you could just get the rest of them, my life would take on meaning.”
“Do you work for Asnikov?” Marge asked.
“No. But he’s the reason I’ve come…well, one of the reasons. Even if he hadn’t called, I would have probably come down.” She looked at her feet. “Because of the kids. You get…attached…”
She looked up and squinted in the harsh light.
“He got me just in time. We were about to jump ship for Australia.”
“But you don’t work for Asnikov,” McCarry stated.
Lauren’s face flared up in hostility. “I just said that, didn’t I? Are you deaf?”
McCarry tapped his foot. “I thought you came here to offer us help.”
“That’s up to you, bub.”
Decker regarded her. She had to have been in her early twenties: so skinny you could break her with a bear hug. Yet here she was, mouthing off to a swarm of security officers, lashing out and swearing like a sailor, not the least bit deterred by authority. She was brash and rude and physical. No wonder they had slapped cuffs on her. Yet Decker understood her blatant gall. She had needed it to infiltrate the Order.
One of the arresting officers stood on the outside of the group, his hand on his hip. “Do you want me to take her in, Lieutenant?”
“No,” Decker answered. “Leave her be.”
“Yeah, leave me be, bub,” she answered.
Marge took McCarry aside. “I’ll fill you in.”
Decker gave her an A-okay sign as he studied the young girl’s face, her familiar patrician features blurred by rage and impudence. He computer-aged her visage about sixty years. “The Farranders said that Maureen was their youngest so you couldn’t be Lyra’s aunt. I’d say you’re Maureen’s niece…the daughter of one of her older sisters.”
Lauren glared, but said nothing.
“Maureen?” Oliver asked.
“Known as Moriah in the Order.” Decker faced Lauren. “When I was hunting for Lyra, I interviewed your grandparents. You look like your grandmother.”
The girl tensed. “The selfless Ceese—a bastion of altruism!”
Decker said, “We’re all prisoners of our past—”
“Not all of us, bub!”
“No, not you. You’re the righteous cousin on a mission to save Lyra. Good for you, Lauren! You did it! You got her out and probably saved her life. That’s no exaggeration. Now help us get the other kids out and you’ll be a true hero.”
At once, Lauren’s eyes welled up with tears. “First, take the damn hardware off me.”
Decker glanced at the officer with the ring of keys. “Remove the handcuffs.”
The man was dubious, but listened to orders from a superior. Within moments, the girl was rubbing her wrists. Freed of the shackles, she seemed less sure of her position. Quiet but guarded.
She said, “I suppose I owe you something. The police investigation disrupted the Order’s robotic schedule.” A long look into space. “You gave me the break I needed.”
Decker asked, “How long had you been underground?”
“A little over two years.” Lauren wiped her eyes. “It was hell, but I’d do it all over again. Especially after what I know. No way I’d let her rot there.”
“You couldn’t have known Lyra before you went inside,” Decker said. “Chances are you never even met her. She was raised inside the Order. What made you go after her?”
She hugged herself. “That’s me! Always a sucker for the underdog. The kind of kid who brings home stray cats and baby birds.” The girl looked away, her face still holding sadness. “I can’t stop thinking about the other kids.”
“Join the club,” Marge said. “Did you know the dangers going in?”
Lauren shrugged. “Reuben pretty much gave me the details. He told me not to do it. He told me how dangerous the Order could be. He told me that Pluto’d be watching my every step. He told me if I stepped out of line, I’d be physically punished. He told me that Bob would come on to me because I was young and cute. He told me that I’d have to sleep with him and if I didn’t, I’d pay dearly. He told me there was a very good chance I’d never get out. He told me he couldn’t help me—no one could—because the Order was impenetrable. He told me to think it over…not for days, but for months. And I did.”
“But you went anyway,” Decker said.
“I don’t think I believed Reuben. The arrogance was a good thing. Because if I had really known…” She looked away. “I had worked with poor kids—kids in the inner city—much to my mother’s horror.” She looked at Decker. “Did you meet Mom?”
Decker shook his head no.
“A mini Ceese. See, I grew up in a family who thought that people should only be vanilla-flavored. When I realized that chocolate had lots to offer, I got to thinking about Maureen’s kid. No one else in the family was interested in saving her…charity begins at home.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the bunkers.
“It eats me up. There’re good people inside, sir. Decent people who’re looking for God in all the wrong places. It’s not them. It wasn’t even Jupiter. Yeah, he was psycho, but more into his visions than into power. It’s the mad four below him—Pluto, Nova, Venus and Bob. You don’t know the half of it.”
Oliver took out his notepad. “Apparently not if you’re telling us that Nova was a pedophile.”
She focused in on Oliver’s face. “Chester the Molester.”
“He seemed like a wimp.”
“Most pedophiles are,” Lauren snapped back. “How’d he die?”
“Exsanguination, most likely,” Decker said. “Someone carved him up and stuffed him in one of the kitchen cabinets at the Order’s ranch. The local law is holding the ranch hand named Benton for the murder. Does his name ring a bell?”
Lauren shook her head no. “I wasn’t even aware that the Order owned a ranch.”
“Jupiter owned it. Now it probably belongs to his daughter, Europa. Benton runs the place, although I don’t think he popped Nova. I think Bob did it.”
“Sounds logical,” Lauren said. “After Our Father Jup—After Emil Ganz died, Bob moved in like a cockroach.”
“I always picture Pluto as the roach,” Oliver said.
“Pluto’s more like a T-rex. He destroys what gets in his way.”
Bob as the roach and Pluto as T-rex. Like Oliver, Decker would have thought it was the other way around.
Marge asked, “Why would Bob kill a wimp like Nova? Was he a threat to Bob’s power base?”
Lauren gave the question some thought. “Not really. Nova was the weakest of the four.”
“So why would Bob kill him?” McCarry asked.
“Because Bob enjoys killing people,” Lauren said.
No one spoke.
“Even so, there has to be more.” Decker stopped for a moment, his mind flipping through the file of the original case. Back to the very beginning. A spark in his brain ignited. “Jupiter was found dead at around five in the morning. Nova was writing out the death certificate a half-hour later. And Europa called the police shortly after that.” A pause. “Some woman from the Order called Europa to tell her that her dad had died. It wasn’t Venus.”
Decker looked at her pointedly. Lauren bit her lip.
“C’mon, Lauren. You couldn’t have called without help because only gurus had phones. Someone instructed you to make that call. Process of elimination tells me it had to be Nova. Why would he want you to call up a violator?”
“He was frightened by Jupiter’s death. Bob and Pluto had wanted to bury Ganz on the grounds like the others—”
“The others?” McCarry said. “What others?”
“The others that had ‘expired’ along the way,” Lauren answered. “No doubt they were murdered—”
“You know that as a fact?” McCarry asked.
“I know that rebellious members had a way of disappearing—”
“Jesus!” Marge muttered.
Decker asked. “What else did Nova confide in you, Lauren?”
“He said Ganz’s death was too big to hide. That Ganz was too famous and he had children. He was worried about Europa, the daughter. Ganz had kept up contact with her. This time, Nova wanted to go through proper channels. He said if we didn’t call the police in now, it would be big trouble later on when Europa found out about her father’s death. Everything and everyone would be investigated. That would have been the death knell for us…for them…the Order.”
“Thinking he could waylay us before we dug too deep,” Oliver said.
Lauren nodded. “He told me to phone Europa even if it meant breaking the vows and overstepping the chain—”
Decker blurted out, “Overstepping the chain…breaking the vows.” He tapped his foot. “I’ve heard that expression before.”
“It’s one of the Order’s most basic laws,” Lauren said. “‘Never break your vows and never overstep the chain of command.’ The gurus used to lecture it to us over and over and over and over.”
Decker hit his forehead. “Oh, my Lord!”
“What?” Oliver asked.
“When I first met Pluto, I asked him about the phone call to Europa. He said whoever did it would have to be addressed because he had overstepped the chain, and had broken his vows.”
He made a face. T-Rex here we come.
“It was Pluto who killed Nova. He was addressing Nova’s insubordination. That little motherfucker knew all along that he’d carved up Nova. He knew it when you two went up there. And he knew you’d find the body. But he didn’t care because he knew we’d arrest Benton!”
“Loo,” Oliver said. “Ms. Bolt just said that it was Bob who enjoyed killing people.”
“Bob kills for sport—for pleasure. Pluto killed to keep his power base absolute. He couldn’t have men like Nova—who overstepped the chain and broke vows—get away with colluding with violators. Especially since Nova was a privileged attendant—a guru. That position demanded complete loyalty to the Order. And since Nova couldn’t be trusted anymore, Pluto killed him.”
“Then why did Bob kill Pluto?” McCarry asked.
“Because Bob knew his power base was finished. While Jupiter was alive, but zonked out from arsenic, Bob pretty much had free rein. Even though Pluto was second in command, Jupiter still ran things. But once Ganz died and the free ride had ended, Bob knew he had no constituency. Better to die a leader than live under a little totalitarian putz like Pluto. And after Nova’s death, maybe Bob figured he was next on the chopping block anyway.”
“So who killed Jupiter?” McCarry asked.
Marge said, “The place housed two homicidal lunatics and a child molester. Take your pick.”
Lauren took a swipe at her eyes. “I keep seeing the children—obeying whatever they’re told.” The young girl bit her lip. “We’ve got to do something. They do terrible things. They made us watch.”
“You witnessed murder?” Decker asked.
“Punishments,” Lauren said softly. “They claimed they served as purification as well as warnings for the rest of the Order.”
“What kind of punishments?” Decker asked.
“Burning iron pokers on the stomach and soles of the feet, branding the back with the six-six-six of the devil. If it was a second offense, Pluto would amputate digits—fingers, toes.”
There was silence. Oliver thought of the little man hacking off a chicken head. He asked, “And if it was a third offense?”
This time when Lauren bit her lip, she drew blood. “There wasn’t a third time. The offenders would…disappear.”
“Was Jupiter present during the punishments?”
“You know, I never remember seeing him at the rites of purification.” A sob escaped her throat. “The sadism always came from his underlings.”
“What about Nova? Did he participate?”
“He’d take the atoner’s…the victim’s vital signs. To make sure the punishment didn’t go too far.”
“Like the Spanish Inquisition,” Decker said. “The torturers always had a doctor present during the process to make sure the victim didn’t actually die…so the person could be tortured again.”
To Lauren, Marge said, “The victims were given only two chances?”
“Yes.”
“And no one protested?”
Lauren said, “You know, I found out real quick that protest is an invention of a free society. Everyone was terrified! No one said a word!”
More silence.
Lauren went on. “Pluto had convinced the congregation that the process was necessary for atonement. If the victim didn’t undergo the torture, he’d die a violator and never reach the next level. Venus led them in chant while Bob or Pluto performed the horror. Everything was ritualized.”
“How’d you get around them?” Marge asked.
The young woman’s face was full of pain. “I played up to Bob.” She threw up her hands. “Hey, placating the enemy with sex is a time-honored tradition.”
Immediately, Decker’s thoughts turned to the prophets, specifically a Jewish woman named Yael who lived in the time of the Judges after a Jewish victory. The enemy general, Sisera, escaped to her house for shelter. Yael wore him out to complete fatigue by bedding him. Afterward, when he had fallen into a deep sleep, she drove a tent peg through his brain. “How did you escape, Lauren?”
Lauren blinked. “Used a time-old tradition of convicts. I tunneled my way out. I started digging on day one.” A shrug. “I always had my fingernails. On good nights, I had a spoon.”
Along with the others, Decker was stunned. All that for a little girl she had never met. Someone should study her superior morals and ethics.
Lauren brushed strands of hair from her face. “I did what I had to do.”
“Anyone else from the Order know about your tunnel—”
“Maybe that’s the hole in the fence,” Oliver interrupted.
“What hole?” Lauren asked.
Marge explained the phone call.
“I didn’t dig out midway between any fence. I came out way beyond the fence, in the middle of the wooded area behind the compound. I would never have dug in the open. Way too vulnerable. Reuben and I talked about it before I went in. He said to dig out in the mountain brush where there was plenty of cover. I don’t know what hole your caller’s talking about.”
“You think the call is a trap?” McCarry inquired.
“Depends who called. If it was Terra, no, it’s not a trap. She’s terrified of Bob.”
Decker nodded. “If you met up with her again, you’d think she’d be on your side?”
“Well, she’s terrified of Bob. But she’s also terrified of defying him.”
“If Venus had made the call, would it be a trap?”
“I don’t know. I will say that she has a lot invested in the Order, so I don’t see her trying to bring it down. Venus also commands respect. You don’t mess with her. People have tried and things have happened to them.”
“What things?” McCarry asked. “Don’t tell me she’s a serial killer.”
Lauren was pensive. “Like I said, I never saw anything. But her enemies, like the enemies of Bob and Pluto, had this way of disappearing.”
“Talk about declining populations,” Marge said. “It’s a wonder the Order didn’t murder itself out of existence. It’s unbelievable!”
“Not at all,” Lauren said. “When there are no absolutes and people make up the rules, anything is fair game.” A pause. “I’m not a big one for organized religion. But God has its good points. If the Ten Commandments were given by the Ultimate Creator, then those rules have to be immutable. And that’s not bad. Because when human beings change the norms, they always fuck things up.”
McCarry snapped her out of her musings. “Tell me more about this tunnel.”
She told them all she knew. How she chose her spot—in the teens’ classroom. Because the gurus weren’t the least bit concerned with the kids. And the classrooms were always empty at night. She’d sneak off and dig. She’d time her digging with the cries from the infant nursery next door. Every night, she’d scratch away. She was lucky. Out here, in the valley, the soil was loose. Not like the clay soil that held up most of the city of L.A.
“We should contact SWAT,” McCarry said. “I’d play it like this. We lead the Order into thinking that we’re looking for an imaginary hole—”
“It may be real,” Lauren said. “Maybe someone else was trying to dig out. I’m just saying it isn’t part of my tunnel. Its location doesn’t even sound like one of my red herrings.”
“Red herrings?” Decker asked.
“I dug some fake holes outside. Also Reuben’s idea. In case I’d make an escape and get discovered midway, my pursuers wouldn’t know which hole was real and which one was a dead-end. I dug two fake tunnels while I was at the Order. They don’t lead anywhere. One goes about twenty feet and dies, the other’s about forty.”
Decker was flabbergasted. “Can I harness your ingenuity and market it?”
“I was trying to save my life…Lyra’s, too. Incredible how creative you become.”
McCarry said, “If we look for this imaginary hole in the fence midway between somewhere, we can draw Bob into thinking we’ve fallen for his trap. In the meantime, SWAT will tunnel—”
“Uh, there’s a problem with a raid,” Lauren said. “My tunnel was barely big enough for me. It’s all belly-crawling. Can’t lift your head more than six inches off the ground. At some points, I really had to contort to make it through. You’ll never get your regular men through there. A small man would even be doubtful.”
“What about my size?” Marge asked.
“Maybe—”
“We’ll do the raid with women,” Marge said. “I’ll lead.”
“You’re not familiar with the pathway,” Lauren said. “The turns are tricky. If any part of the tunnel has collapsed, you’ll be lost.”
“I’ll risk it!” Marge said.
Decker looked at her. “Margie, that’s insane.”
She ignored him. “It’ll have to be done at night.”
“Night, day, it doesn’t matter,” Lauren answered. “Tunnel is as dark as jet fuel. Slimy, too.”
“I was thinking of dark as coverage in the mountains—”
“Ah,” Lauren said. “Good point!”
“We’ll need miner’s caps for starts,” Marge said. “Protective gear, equipment, gloves, masks. Don’t want to pick up any lethal virus nesting in the soil.”
“A lightweight oxygen tank may be helpful,” Lauren said. “Just in case.”
“You’re not worried about gases igniting.”
“It’s not that far down.”
“How far?”
“Six feet maybe.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Decker said. “Forget it!”
“What do you mean, forget it!” Marge was outraged. “It’s okay for men to raid and risk their lives, but when it comes to meek women—”
“I’d forbid anyone under my command,” Decker said. “Marge, for chrissakes, you’re a homicide cop, not Indiana Jones!”
“She made it out!”
“She had two years for test runs. Besides, the Order wasn’t looking for a raid when she broke out!”
“Pete, they’re not going to be looking for a raid coming up from a tunnel—”
“They’ll be looking for a raid in any way, shape or form. Through the doors, through the ceilings, under the floors. They’re going to be scrutinizing everything!” He threw up his hands. “If this is going to be done, at least let SWAT handle it—”
“I’ve got a major advantage over SWAT.” Marge poked her chest. “I’ve been inside the Order.”
Oliver said, “Marge, to use the advantage, first you’ve got to get inside.”
“I can do it—”
“She just said you’re too big!” Decker insisted.
“Maybe not,” Lauren backtracked.
Marge turned to her. “Are you willing to go back in?”
“Yes.” She nodded fiercely. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give it my best shot.” She looked at Decker. “Loo or Pete or Decker or whatever your name is, if she’s willing to go in, so am I. You need me. I’m your only hope.”
McCarry said, “You’ll need professionals with you.”
“Then no more than three people,” Lauren said. “I’ve loosely calculated the oxygen level for the given area. The tunnel can support around three sets of lungs without trouble.”
“We’ll take supplemental oxygen canisters,” Marge said. “So I’m one, and Lauren’s two. We’ll take one more.” She turned to Decker, “Who’s our best on SWAT?”
“Probably Sharon Jacobs.”
“Is she here?”
“I don’t know!” Decker was agitated. “This is sheer suicide!”
Marge said, “Pete, I keep hearing the voice of that kid I interviewed—”
“Who?” Lauren asked.
“Vega—”
“Oh, she’s wonderful! Brilliant, too.”
“I’m going and that’s it!” Marge turned to Decker with a determined look on her face. He had seen it too many times in the past. It said, “I hear you, I’m disregarding you.”
McCarry said, “Special Agent Elise Stone has been with SWAT for ten years. I know she’s here. Been here since the beginning.”
“We’ll take her,” Marge said. “Lauren’ll lead, then I’ll go, Elise Stone’ll bring up the rear.” She looked upward. The sun was stronger now. The harsh light made her eyes burn. “We’ve got about twelve hours to concoct some kind of workable plan. We’d better light a fire.” She threw her arm around Lauren. “C’mon. Let’s go save some kids.”