17

The Aura IV satellite had been launched from Kouro the previous week using a French-designed Ariana 4 rocket. The basic design of the satellite was the same that the HAARP team was using to renovate the MIL STAR satellites. The retransmit plans were part of the wealth of information Souris had taken with her when she defected.

To implement the plan and build the satellite, Cesar had been able to hire Russian scientists. Getting the European Space Agency to launch it had simply required putting the appropriate amount of money in the specified bank account. With the establishment of Kouro as an international launch center, space was truly becoming open to all, as long as they had enough money.

Given that there were over eight thousand objects in space, one more small satellite had excited little interest among the world’s intelligence agencies. ESA had announced the launch as a communications satellite for a private company. It was now in a geosynchronous orbit, centered over the Caribbean Sea, halfway between Saba and Colombia.

Once the satellite was released from the rocket, it had unfolded and spread the retransmit antennas, forty feet wide on either side, mirror images of the towers at HAARP. The bulk of the rest of the satellite was a very powerful battery, capable of adding strength to the signal when it came. The uplink was a specially designed antenna on top of the volcano on Saba. Souris had estimated they would get only one burst out of the battery, maybe two. But all they needed was one to confirm they could do what they needed.

Farruco had to climb over one of the women to get to his cell phone, which was on the nightstand. He ignored her yelp of pain as his knee pressed into her stomach.

“Yes?”

“The Americans are coming,” Cesar informed him.

Farruco jumped out of the bed, one hand on the phone, the other reaching for his pants. “I will-”

“Shut up and listen,” Cesar cut him off. “I want you to do exactly as I say.”

“Careful,” Jackson warned Dalton as he and Barnes finished unhooking the dolly under the last tube in line. They wore heavy work gloves, as the eight-foot-high tubes were still supercooled. Cables looped all around, providing power from portable generators and life support for the bodies inside the tubes. The job had been made considerably easier given that the iso-tubes were designed to be moved if needed.

Dalton wiped the sweat off his forehead and surveyed what they had accomplished so far: All ten cylinders that held his team were free and ready to move; ancillary equipment had also been loaded on the movable platforms.

“What about Raisor?” Barnes asked. “And the other team?”

Dalton shook his head. “We’ll be lucky to get all these in the sling loads. Hammond says they’ll last like this on generator power for about two hours, then we’ve got to hook everything back up.”

“Where are we taking them?” Barnes asked.

“We’ll see it when we get there,” Dalton said.

“Enough yacking,” Jackson said. She had her padded shoulder against the first tube in line. “Let’s get these to the landing pad.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dalton snapped a half salute and joined her.

Valika had secured the Barrett to the floor of the helicopter. She doubted whether she would need the long gun, but she had always thought it best to be prepared. She checked the function of the MP-5 submachine gun Gregory had brought for her.

She leaned close to Gregory, who was seated next to her. “How long?”

“Thirty minutes.”

She looked at the Aura generator, debating whether to turn it on yet. She decided to wait until they were just about to land. She opened one of the metal cases. A dozen canisters were secured in the foam padding. She pulled one out and handed it to Gregory.

“What’s this?” he yelled.

“A special type of grenade. Russian. We called it a beer can. When it detonates, it sends out an intense electromagnetic pulse. It is designed to be used inside headquarters and communications centers to destroy electronic equipment while not injuring personnel.”

Gregory frowned. “Why do we need it?”

Now that they were in the air, Valika was pretty certain that Gregory and his men would follow through on the mission. It was time to tell him the nature of the objective and how she envisioned the grenade being used against Psychic Warriors if they appeared.

Two avatars materialized on the roof of Cesar’s villa, the lead element of Kirtley’s team. Kirtley himself was two miles away with the rest of the team, still on the virtual plane at the objective rally point.

“No guards that we can see,” one of the men reported. “The roof is clear.”

“Jump,” Kirtley ordered the rest of his team. He, however, remained where he was. “Hook me into the command net of the Special Ops team,” he directed Hammond through Sybyl.

The Special Operations task force from the Roosevelt was less than ten minutes out from the villa, flying low-level just above the treetops. The soldiers on board the Blackhawks prepared their weapons, putting rounds in the chamber. Forty men, the elite of the American military, they were as prepared as they could be.

The team leader listened as a radio call came in from the satellite receiver. “Hammer Six, this is Eyes Six. Over.”

The team leader keyed his radio. “This is Hammer Six. Go ahead. Over.”

Kirtley’s voice came back. “Hold at final line for my command. Over.”

“Roger.”

“Also, be prepared to go to the location I give you. Over.”

The team leader frowned. “We have the location of the villa. Over.”

“The villa is not your priority objective. The priority objective will be where I tell you to go. Out.”

The team leader turned to his executive officer, eyebrows raised in question. The XO could only shrug his ignorance of this change.

Sergeant Lambier started as two forms materialized in front of him. “What the hell?”

“We’re friendly,” one of the forms spoke, the voice echoing. As Lambier watched, the smooth white surface of the forms transformed into clothes, skin, hair. A man in a black jumpsuit with no identifying badges or insignia.

“Who are you?” Lambier demanded.

“NSA,” the first form answered. “Helicopters are less than ten minutes from here. Where are the guards?”

Lambier shook his head as the other members of his team gathered round. “I don’t know. We haven’t heard anything in a while.” He reached out to touch the form. “Unbelievable. What are you?”

On a hillside a half mile away, Farruco could see the strange forms appear on the roof of the building. Just as Cesar had told him would happen. He flipped open his SATPhone. “They’re here.”

Cesar put his hand on Souris ’s shoulder. “Now!”

She pressed the Enter key.

From the antenna on top of Saba ’s volcano, a tight-wave beam darted up into the sky toward Aura IV. It hit the retransmit panels, triggering a surge of power from the main battery, and was redirected down to Earth.

Kirtley’s avatar staggered, the screams of his team members’ dying psyches hitting him like a wave of pain.

The last thing Sergeant Lambier saw was the two forms getting wiped away, like pencil images under a powerful and extremely fast eraser. Then his brain exploded in agony, blood poured from his eyes, mouth, ears, and nose, and he collapsed to the floor dead.

“They just disappeared,” Farruco reported.

Cesar slapped Souris on the back. “It worked!” “Of course it worked,” Souris said.

“Go in and see what happened to the prisoners,” Cesar ordered Farruco.

“Did you track it?” Kirtley demanded. “Did you track the transmitter? Is it close by?”

Boreas was staring at the data HAARP had picked up. It made no sense.

“Where is it?” Kirtley’s voice had risen to a panicked pitch. “They wiped out my team, goddamn it! I’ve got the choppers on hold at the final line. Give me a location.”