The Guard by Pittacus Lore

Author:Pittacus Lore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-06-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

I HEAD FOR DULCE. FOR MY SHIP.

I pass half a dozen black SUVs all speeding through the desert about five miles away from the perimeter of Dulce Base. I consider this fortuitous timing—if these are the FBI agents Mark mentioned, then they have indeed abandoned the place.

Still, I have my reservations about this operation. It’s a bright morning, for one thing, meaning I can’t rely on the cover of night, and the memory of what happened the last time I tried to infiltrate this base is fresh in my mind. But I won’t get another opportunity like this. Who knows how long it will be before the Mogs or the rest of the FBI realize that no one at this base is responding?

Besides, this time I’ve come prepared.

I pause at a section of the fence surrounding the base that’s been destroyed and take out some of the gear from my backpack—thermal-imagine binoculars that can sense heat signatures through six inches of steel. Nothing pops up on them. At least nothing that reads as a human or Mog. There are a few fires and lights I can make out, but nothing that suggests anyone is patrolling the base.

Regardless, I proceed with caution and park my bike near a pit that’s been created by the roof of the first underground floor of the base collapsing in on itself. I take a look around and note some burned-out Humvees and a knocked-down watchtower. Mark thinks the Garde broke Sarah out, and if that’s the truth, they certainly have grown strong.

I hop down into the base and pull out a small electronic tablet of my own design, part computer and part tracker—a device that can hone in on the frequencies of a Loric ship when within a certain range. I wasn’t sure it would work until now, but it pings, telling me that yes, Janus’s ship is still down here somewhere. Waiting for me.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

The agents must have left the place in a hurry, because every office I pass is disheveled, files strewn about. Several big computer terminals looks damaged, as if in leaving, the FBI didn’t want anyone else getting its information. That’s a concern I can understand. I’ll have to come back up and see what data I can harvest once I’ve found what I’ve actually come for.

I make my way down several floors. Eventually I get to a hallway that’s dark, lights all knocked out. It’s the only place I’ve been in the base where every door is shut. I make my way through the corridor slowly, on the tips of my toes, trying hard not to make a sound. I pass a door with a slit of a window in it, which I peer through carefully.

A man stares back at me.

He shouts, slamming his fists against the door. He’s got on a white button-down shirt spotted with blood. Suddenly, there’s banging from all the doors in the hallway, and I realize that I must have wandered into some sort of brig or detention area.

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