The Citadel Page 6

  "Why would Lansale send the Abu Sayif this information?" the High Counsel wondered out loud.

  To that, no one had an answer, as no one dared point out the fact that the Organization had just recently "retired" Lansale with extreme prejudice after over half a century of faithful service. A man who knew so many secrets was a dangerous man. Even now in death.

  The High Counsel had not expected an answer. "Has Royce reported?"

  "Yes, sir. He says he can bring a team together to deal with Fatima."

  "Authorized and execute," the High Counsel ordered. There was a short pause. "And what of the Citadel?"

  Another awkward silence descended.

  "I want an answer," the High Counsel demanded.

  The Senior Assessor cleared his throat. "Sir. The Citadel was apparently part of the North American Table and is somehow connected with this submarine I-401, which means the Far East Table was also involved. It explains why Fatima went after Kaito. She was the most junior member of the Far East Table."

  One of the other Assessors spoke up. "Fatima going after Kaito might have been revenge over the Golden Lily, Hong Kong auction that Kaito ran. She betrayed the Abu Sayif."

  The Senior Assessor shook his head. "I would think that also, except for the information we just received from our agent that she was given information. And the computer agrees with me."

  "I know Royce will be on it," the High Counsel said, "but to expedite things, give our agent in the Philippines the authorization to take direct action to stop this line of inquiry by Fatima. Whatever Lansale sent to Fatima, it had to be something very important. He wasn't a stupid man by any stretch."

  The Senior Assessor blinked. "Sir, doing that before we have complete data might not be the best move. I recommend-"

  "Action in the Philippines," the High Counsel ordered. "We will wait on more information to determine what else to do. But right now, Fatima and those she is trying to contact is a problem that needs to be eradicated."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Back to the Citadel," the High Counsel said. "What do we know about it?"

  The Senior Assessor answered. "It appears when they formed Majestic-12 they not only established Area 51, which they still use, but the Citadel."

  "'Apparently'? 'Appears'?" The High Counsel turned in his chair and faced his Assessors on screen. "Does this place exist?"

  "Not in our computers," the Senior Assessor admitted. "The formation of Majestic in 1947 naturally predates the use of computers and-"

  "The vast majority of our history predates the use of computers," the High Counsel interrupted.

  "Yes, sir. But we can only process information the North American Table sent us. And apparently, we never received any data from the North American Table about it."

  The High Counsel leaned back in his chair, considering this. "So there are two possibilities. The Americans withheld the information. Or they lost it."

  "Sir, there is a third possibility," the Senior Assessor said. "Lansale was the man who sent the packet to Fatima and the Abu Sayif. Lansale was one of the senior-if not the senior-field operative for the North American Table for half a century. The things he did and was involved in, well-there is no need to say there are far more significant things than this Citadel and a lost World War II submarine."

  "As noted, Lansale wasn't stupid," the High Counsel said. "He picked this one thing to send to Fatima in case of his death. Summon the head of the North American Table. Tell him to bring everything they have on this Citadel. Inform the Far East Table of our concerns and find out what they know about this I-401 submarine."

  Oahu , Hawaii

  "That's him," Tai said.

  Vaughn stared at the bent-over old man who was slowly walking down the street, a plastic bag dangling from one hand. Royce had tracked down former First Lieutenant MacIntosh using his Organization resources without much trouble. MacIntosh had retired as a lieutenant colonel from the Army right here on Hawaii after putting in thirty years of service. According to the file, his wife had died eight years ago and he lived alone in the small bungalow.

  "Let's hope he doesn't have Alzheimer's," Vaughn said as he opened his car door.

  They walked down the sidewalk and came up on MacIntosh, one on either side. He didn't notice their presence until he turned for the walkway to his small house.

  "Who the hell are you?" he demanded as Vaughn blocked his path. Then he noticed Tai and his demeanor changed. "And who are you?" he added with a smile.

  Tai shot Vaughn a look, and he knew what she was thinking.

  "We have some questions, Colonel MacIntosh," Tai said.

  He looked her up and down. "You still haven't said who you are."

  "I'm a reporter with CNN," she replied.

  "And him?" MacIntosh jerked his head at Vaughn.

  "My assistant," Tai said. Vaughn rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.

  "And why would a beautiful young woman like you want to talk to me?" MacIntosh asked. "Not that I object," he hastily added.

  Tai smiled. "It has to do with when you were in the Army."

  "I assumed that when you called me 'Colonel,'" MacIntosh said. "And to be precise, I retired as a lieutenant colonel." He nodded toward his bungalow. "Why don't you come inside and sit down."

  They followed him in. Vaughn glanced at Tai as MacIntosh pulled a bottle of vodka out of the plastic bag. He made no attempt to hide it, indeed, he offered some to them. "A glass?"

  Both Tai and Vaughn politely declined. MacIntosh poured himself a glassful over the rocks and then lowered himself into a chair around an old wooden kitchen table. Tai and Vaughn flanked him, Tai pulling out an iPod with an iTalk recorder on top. "Do you mind if I record this?"

  MacIntosh shrugged. "I'm not supposed to talk about what I did in the military. Secrets and all that good horseshit. But, hell, I retired a long time ago. And I'm dying." He said it matter-of-factly. He held up the glass. "Yeah, I drink all the time. Why the hell not? Doc said I got about six months. Fuck it. Nothing's been worth it since Meg died." He took a drink. "So what do you want to know?"

  Tai leaned forward. "We've learned that the Army built a secret installation, called Citadel, in Antarctica in 1948-49."

  MacIntosh frowned. "What kind of secret base?"

  "We don't know," Tai said. "That's why we're asking you."

  MacIntosh gave a sly smile. "Why are you asking me specifically?"

  Vaughn pulled out the black and white photo and laid it on the table. "Because you took this picture. And others."

  The smile was gone from MacIntosh's face as he looked at the picture. "Yeah, I took that." His voice sharpened. "Listen, we were told everything about that place was classified. I mean, it was a long time ago and all that, but still, a guy can get in trouble."

  Tai leaned forward in her seat once more and flipped the picture over. "They have your name on the back."

  There was a long pause, and finally MacIntosh spoke, his voice resigned. "Yeah, I took those damn pictures. At first I didn't see what the big deal about the whole thing was anyway. It was an additional duty I was assigned: battalion historian. But they told us not to talk about it-national security and all that."

  "Who are 'they'?" Tai asked.

  "The big shots. High-ranking officers. Except I could tell they didn't know shit either."

  Tai leaned back. "What about the air crews that flew you in there? Do you know where they were from?"

  "There was only one air crew that did all the flights. I think they were home-based out of here- Hawaii. They sure didn't like the cold. Flew a big-ass seaplane that had been modified to land on ice." His eyes got a distant look. "No one liked the cold."

  "You were with the 48th Engineers," Vaughn said.

  "Yes."

  "A company?" Vaughn added.

  MacIntosh shook his head. "No. I was with Battalion staff. If I'd been with A Company, then…" His voice trailed off.

  "Then what?" Tai pressed.

  "Then I
wouldn't be here. They all died."

  "How?"

  "Plane went down on the way back," MacIntosh said. "No survivors. Hell, they never found the plane or the bodies. Went down in the ocean. And it was a damn floatplane, so it had to have crashed, not made an emergency landing."

  Vaughn glanced at Tai. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was-very convenient. And exactly the way Lansale had died.

  "Why weren't you on the plane?" Tai asked.

  "I should have been," MacIntosh said. "But I got evacuated during one of the supply runs. Actually, the last supply run before they pulled the company out. And since I wasn't on the company roster, I guess no one missed me on the last flight." He held up his left hand. "Frostbite. From taking those damn pictures. I got careless. You'd think I'd have known better after three months, but-anyway, I got the bite bad and needed to be medevacked. I hopped a ride on that plane. Never got listed on the manifest.

  "From there they sent me on back here to Hawaii. One plane early. If I hadn't been medevacked…" MacIntosh fell silent.

  "Where was the Citadel?" Tai asked.

  "I don't know."

  Tai frowned. "What do you mean you don't know? You didn't know where you were?"

  MacIntosh tried to explain. "I mean, I knew we were in Antarctica, but I couldn't tell you where. We weren't allowed any maps. When we flew, they blacked out the windows in the hold of the MARS. No one in that company knew where the hell they were the entire time they were there."

  "You had to have some idea," Tai pressed. "What direction from High Jump Station?"

  "You ever been to Antarctica?" MacIntosh didn't wait for an answer. "The goddamn place is one big jumbled-up mass of ice and mountains. North or south?" MacIntosh laughed. "Compasses don't work too well down there. Do you know that the magnetic pole is farther north of the true South Pole than where they had High Jump Station? In fact, magnetic south from High Jump Station, which is now where McMurdo Station is located, is actually west if you look at a map. That was the most screwed-up place I've ever been. All I know is that the site was a little less than a four-hour flight by MARS seaplane from High Jump Station. You look at the pictures and you got as good an idea of where that place was as I do."

  "What did the engineers build there?" Tai asked.

  "They didn't really 'build' anything per se," MacIntosh said. "They put together a Tinkertoy set. It was all prefab," he explained. "They flew this thing in by sections, and the MARS was the only plane big enough to fit them inside of. Someone with a lot more brains than we had in our outfit designed that thing. Each piece could just fit inside the plane, yet when they put it all together it was surprisingly big. Of course, there was a shitload of cargo coming in. Hell, they spent almost an entire week just bringing in fuel bladders. That plane flew every moment the weather allowed. Must have made over a hundred trips at least. That I know of. And I heard whispers that other stuff was brought in over land by those big snow cats they-huge tractors with treads."

  "Whispers from who?" Vaughn asked.

  "Some of the guys," MacIntosh said vaguely. "We weren't supposed to talk about anything. But you know how the Army is."

  "Yeah," Vaughn agreed.

  MacIntosh smiled. "You had the look. Can't ever get rid of it." He looked at Tai. "You too. You were military, weren't you?"

  Tai nodded. "Yes. I was." She tapped the photo. "What was it that A Company put together?"

  "They put it under the ice." MacIntosh shrugged. "My best guess is that it was some sort of C and C structure-Command and Control. They blasted out deep holes in the ice, then used 'dozers to clear it. Then just put the buildings together in the holes. Then the bulldozers and weather would cover them up fast. Ice would seal in around the walls. Before we were even done, they brought in other guys to put in other stuff. I remember a lot of commo equipment. They sealed off sections of the place as we finished, so I really couldn't tell you what it looked like on the inside when it was completed. None of the other specialists they brought in had a clue where the hell they were or what they were working on.

  "The guys in the 48th stayed in several prefab Quonset huts on the surface, and we broke those down and took them back out with us when we left. All that you could see when we took that last flight out was the entry and ventilation shafts. Everything else was underground."

  "What did it look like underground?" Vaughn asked.

  "There were twelve of the prefab units."

  "How were the units laid out?"

  "We set them up in three rows of four, about eight to ten feet apart, and roofed over the space between, which just about doubled the underground area of the main base."

  "That took four months?"

  "What took the most time was blasting out that much ice and snow even before they brought in the first unit. They also dug two really big tunnels on either side for storage and two areas for fuel. Plus the long tunnel and area for the power station."

  "Do you have any idea who was stationed there?"

  "You know, that was the funny thing. When I flew out, I really don't think there was anybody left behind besides Alpha Company, and they were all on that last plane out."

  Vaughn sat back in his chair and stared out at MacIntosh's small backyard. It seemed strange to be talking about this, looking at the bright Hawaiian sunshine.

  "I don't get it," Vaughn said, trying to process everything. "Why go through all that trouble to build something if no one was going to use it?"

  "Hey, you got me." MacIntosh snorted. "I'm just a poor taxpaying schmuck like everyone else. I don't know why the government spends money like it does."

  "What about nuclear weapons?" Tai threw in.

  MacIntosh was startled. "What?"

  "Mark-17 nuclear bombs," Tai said. "You can't miss them. Big suckers."

  "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, miss. I didn't see no bombs, that's for sure." He paused in thought. "But then again, I didn't see everything in that place. I don't think anyone from the 48th saw the entire thing. Everyone's job was very compartmentalized."

  Vaughn tapped the photo. "So you have no clue what this base was built for? Who it was built for?"

  "We followed orders," MacIntosh said.

  "Ever occur to you that the people issuing the orders were…" Vaughn tried to figure out how to phrase it and then simply gave up, knowing it didn't matter.

  MacIntosh stirred. "There was this guy who came out every so often on the MARS. He was a real strange fellow. Spooky."

  "Military?" Vaughn asked.

  "He didn't wear a uniform," MacIntosh replied.

  "Why was he spooky?" Tai asked.

  "Just was. Cold eyes."

  "Did he have a name?"

  "David Lansale."

  Vaughn took a deep breath and glanced at Tai. They both stood.

  "Thank you for your time," Tai said as she turned off the iPod and put it in her pocket.

  MacIntosh took another deep drink of vodka. "Come back any time. I don't get many visitors."

  Manila , Philippines

  Fatima watched her figure in the mirror. Muscles flowed as her legs and arms performed one of the required movements of a fifth-degree tae kwon do black belt.

  "Hai!" she shouted, her fist halting a millimeter from its reverse image. She slowly pulled the fist back as she returned to the beginning stance. The windows in the one room motel room were open, and the chill night air hit the sweat pouring off her skin, creating a thin layer of steam. She wore only a pair of cutoff white shorts and a sports bra. Her feet slid across the floor as she began another formalized kata. The calluses that years of working out had built up made her hardly notice the rough wood floor.

  The room was empty except for the rest of her clothes hung and stacked in the closet. A bed sat near the window, but Fatima had not used it. If she had to rest, she slept on a thin mat, moving its location on the floor every night. Sometimes she slept right under the window; sometimes just behind the door; sometimes she f
olded her body into the scant space in the bathroom, a gun always close at hand.

  Fatima 's leg snapped up high: front kick to the face. She froze for a second, then slowly lowered the leg, her head canted to one side. Her cell phone was vibrating. She went over and picked it up. "Yes?"

  "Shibimi's tug is docking at Pier 23 in an hour. He thinks you are an arms dealer. Black market. He will talk to you but he wants something in exchange."

  "What?"

  "Weapons. Ten M-16s. With a thousand rounds of ammunition."

  The phone went dead.

  * * *

  Two and a half miles away from Fatima 's location, the computer awoke with a chime. The man had been reading a book, and he carefully marked his page before flipping open the computer's lid. The display told him Fatima was moving. He shut the lid and gathered his equipment.

  Oahu , Hawaii

  "Lieutenant Colonel MacIntosh, retired, United States Army?" Royce asked.

  "Yes?" MacIntosh's eyes were blurry and his speech slurred. He stood in the door of his cottage, one hand on the frame to steady himself.

  "I have a couple of questions," Royce said as he brushed by the old man.

  MacIntosh shut the door and turned. "Are you from Intelligence?"

  Royce nodded. "Yes. You talked to that couple that was just here, didn't you?"

  MacIntosh sighed. "That was so long ago, who cares now?"

  "You told them everything you know about the Citadel?"

  MacIntosh went over to the table and picked up his glass. "Yeah. What are you going to do? Court-martial me?"

  "I don't have a problem with you talking to them," Royce said. "In fact, I sent them to you."

  MacIntosh frowned. "Then what do you want?"

  "I want to make sure you don't talk to anyone else." Royce stepped up to the confused old man and lightly slapped him on the back of the neck.

  MacIntosh started and reached up to feel where he'd just been touched. "What the hell was that?"

  Royce slid off the metal ring he had on his middle finger, carefully avoiding the small barb that protruded from it. He slipped it into a metal box and put it in his pocket. "Good-bye, Colonel."

  MacIntosh was still rubbing the back of his neck. "What did you do?" The words came out slowly and even more slurred than before.