Page 56 of V-Day
“I monitored them while I was scanning the base,” Cristián told him. “There’s a blind line about a meter wide. If someone moves down that line at a fast enough pace, the cameras will miss them.”
“Jesus…” Donaldson breathed.
“How fast a pace do they have to move?” Parris asked with a light tone which made it sound as though she was asking for football scores.
Cristián stood and turned to look at the distant fence. “I estimate it’s nine hundred meters to the fence.”
“Eight hundred and fifty,” Yardley, the navigator, said.
“A small bonus, then,” Cristián said. “Chloe will have to cover the ground in under two point nine minutes.”
Three minutes!Her heart pounded, as if she was already trying to run it.
“Impossible,” Parris said flatly, as Locke and Yardley and the others made whistling noises, their eyes rolling.
“Chloe was the eight-hundred meter sprint champion at the academy,” Christian said.
Parris looked at her sharply.
Chloe shrugged. “Track and field. It was that or team sports.” She grimaced.
“That was years ago. What condition are you in now?” Parris demanded. “I’m not sending you in there if there’s even a remote chance you’ll be spotted. And not just because I don’t want another civilian injured on my watch. If you’re seen, this whole operation is blown to hell.”
“I still run,” Chloe admitted. Cristián had nagged her into taking care of her physical fitness, years ago, when she would have remained in her chair for 24/7, drinking energy drinks for sustenance. “Only, I haven’t trained for a sprint for years,” she admitted.
“She can do it,” Cristián said. “She’s faster than any of you and she’ll have adrenaline to give her an edge.”
Damn right, Chloe thought, swallowing hard. If she had to break the World record to do this, her fear would make sure she did.
*
PRESIDENT COLLINS PUSHED BACK FROMthe dusty tin desk and leaned back in his chair. He beckoned with his finger.
Rosa Bergen stepped away from the steel bunker wall and bent to listen.
“Our drone must have taken out the flight control center in Vistaria by now,” Collins said. “Have you heard anything?”
“No, Mr. President. I wouldn’t be the first to hear, though,” Rosa told him. “I can find out.”
He shook his head. “Damn Airforce are hedging their bets and won’t tell anyone the direct truth right now.” He looked around the bare room. Six of his senior staff sat on the old-fashioned sofas ranged against the other wall, all working on laptops. There were four Secret Service people in the room with them. They made it a crowded space. “I need to breathe fresh air,” Collins added.
“The Airforce are embarrassed about having their trial drone go missing, Mr. President,” Rosa pointed out. “They don’t want to screw up again and give you another wrong answer.”
He looked at her sharply. “Yes, I know,” he added. He hesitated. “I wanted to thank you, by the way. You could have clocked off after the bombing, even after Doug…” He drew in a breath. “No one would have thought badly of you. Yet you’re here in the bunker, still at my back. That’s impressive, Bergen.”
“It’s my job, Mr. President,” Rosa told him.
He didn’t try to correct her a second time. He turned back to his desk and the file he had been working on there. “If you hear anything, though, you’ll tell me.” It wasn’t a question.
“There is one thing, Mr. President,” Rosa said.
Collins turned the chair around so he didn’t have to twist to talk to her. He looked at her.
“I overheard General Howard-Jones asking what the protocol is for securing the drone when we get control back. We can’t blow it up. Anywhere we land the thing will be exposed to radiation. No one seems to know what to do with it.”
Collins shook his head. “As far as I am concerned, they can turn the damn thing around and fire it right back at the bastards.”
Rosa glanced up and around the room, then brought her gaze back to the President. “I’m sure the idea has occurred to someone,” she said diplomatically.
