The Cassandra Compact - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,124
in a flatbed truck that had pulled up, then jumped aboard for the short ride. Smith and Riley followed in the Humvee.
The hangar's interior was partitioned to allow the team privacy--- and, Smith suspected, to prevent them from seeing what else was stored there. As Riley had promised, a commo console was up and running, manned by a young female officer.
"Colonel," she said. "You have flash traffic from Bluebird."
Smith was adjusting his headset when Klein came on. "What's your status, Jon?"
"We're getting into our Level Four suits right now. How about the shuttle?"
"It'll be in the chamber by the time you get there."
"Bauer?"
"Doesn't suspect a thing. He's already suited up and ready to mate the cocoon with the shuttle."
Smith had seen the blueprints and photos of Bauer's creation, but he had never been inside it.
"Jon, there's something you need to know--- and hear," Klein said. "A few minutes ago, Landon received communications from inside the Spacelab. It was a distress signal. We're running tests right now. I don't want to raise your hopes, but the voice sounded like Megan's."
Sheer joy surged through Smith. Yet at the same time, he was aware of the possibly deadly consequences of this development.
"Has Landon told Reed about this?"
"Not that I know of. Communications are still down. But I should have told Landon to keep quiet in case contact was reestablished. Wait one."
Smith tried to rein in his clashing emotions. The idea that Megan was alive brought him hope. At the same time, if Reed somehow discovered this, he would still have a chance to kill her before he left the shuttle.
"Jon? It's all right. Landon says the link is still down. I confused the hell out of him by ordering him not to talk in case it comes back up, but I have his word that he won't tell Reed a thing."
"Anything on those voice tests?" Smith demanded.
"So far they're inconclusive."
"Can you play me the tape?"
"It's pretty scratched up."
Smith closed his eyes and listened. After a few moments, he said, "That's her, sir. Megan's alive."
Chapter Thirty-One
"Looking Glass, this is Eyeball. Do you copy?"
"Eyeball, we read you five by five. What do you see?"
"Discovery has just broken cloud cover. Trim is good. Angle of descent good. Speed good. She looks to make a pinpoint landing."
The exchange between Eyeball, the lead air force chase plane that would escort the shuttle, and the control tower at Groome Lake was listened to intently by a number of people.
In the observation bunker, the president glanced briefly around the room. All eyes were on the monitors that showed Discovery cutting through the air. On another screen he saw Dr. Karl Bauer about to leave the decontamination area, called the prep room. The president took a deep breath. Soon... very soon.
Wearing a Level Four biohazard suit, Bauer entered the short corridor between the prep room and the massive, vaultlike door that would allow him to enter the cocoon. Reaching it, he glanced up at the wall-mounted camera and nodded. Slowly the door began to open, revealing a cavity cut into the concrete wall. One end of the cocoon was attached to the wall of the cavity, the edges sealed to the concrete. Bauer stepped into the cocoon and immediately the door began to close.
Ahead, he saw a long, blue-lighted tunnel. When the door was firmly closed and locked, he walked along a rubber-padded runway. The walls of the cocoon were constructed of heavy gauge, semitransparent plastic. Looking through them, Bauer could see the vague outlines of the vast holding area, lit up by giant floodlights. As he moved toward the cocoon's decontamination chamber, he heard a low rumble. More light poured into the bunker as the runway ramp was lowered.
"This is Bauer," he said into his headset. "Do you copy?"
"We read you, sir," a tech in the observation bunker replied.
"Has the shuttle landed?"
"It's almost on the ground, sir."
"Good," Bauer replied, and continued walking to the cocoon's decontamination chamber.
On the other side of the base, Smith was listening in on this exchange. He turned to Jack Riley. "Let's mount up."
The team scrambled into two double deuces with canvas covers. Smith would have preferred to use the more nimble and speedy Humvees instead of the trucks, but given the team's bulky biohazard suits, space was a problem.
The hangar doors opened and the small convoy, with Riley in the lead Humvee, pulled out into the desert night. Rocking back and forth on a bench in the back