“My ‘people’ are my friends. There’s a difference,” Ryan corrected. “But you wouldn’t understand that.”
“And the woman? I can understand the need for physical companionship. She’s one hell of a looker, so I know the sex must be good. But she’s your Achilles’ heel, Cawdor.”
“My what?” Ryan asked.
“Your weakness.”
“Shows what you know. With her, I’m twice as strong as when I’m alone. Before her, I was a man with no direction. Now I know who I am and who I hope to become someday,” Ryan said. “I’m willing to risk having an Achilles’ heel for that.”
“Then you’re half the leader I’ve been told you were, and a fool.”
Poseidon fell silent, and their trek downward continued. If Doc had been with the four men, he wouldn’t have been able to resist comparing the length of their descent into the mass of damp walled tunnels and dimly lit subbasements beneath the naval base to Dante’s plunge into the inferno. The only difference was the temperature of the air.
Cool air. And while it wasn’t exactly fresh, it was breathable, just like the air in the redoubts. Ryan glanced up at the join where the walls met the ceiling. Small metal slits were embedded in the concrete. Air ducts kept everything flowing.
“Nuke gen,” Ryan muttered.
“Beg pardon?” Poseidon said from the front of the line.
“Nothing.”
“No, Mr. Cawdor, I distinctly heard you mumble something in that monotone you call a speaking voice. ‘Nuke gen’ were your words, I believe. I just wanted to say your theory is correct. At least, as correct as I have been able to surmise without actual admittance into the hidden chambers below this base.”
Ryan pondered the truth of Poseidon’s statement. No wonder the Kings Point naval base had been able to survive as a working facility. Maintenance was much easier with electricity, and the nuclear generators that powered the mat-trans unit inside the gateways had plenty of energy to spare.
If Poseidon was to be believed, and if there was indeed a gateway chamber hidden down in the maze of subbasements they were currently in, then this would be one of the rare instances where a redoubt was housed in a logical locale, as opposed to a lonely facility stuck away in the middle of nowhere or inside a public place like the swamps of Greenglades.
And then, without fanfare, they arrived.
Ryan stood before the familiar shape of a redoubt entrance door and frowned. The door looked the same, and yet it was obviously a modification of the standard configuration, probably due to its location. He closed his good eye and reopened it slowly.
The door was still there, waiting.
Like Poseidon and his two sec men.
“Uncuff Mr. Cawdor, but take care,” Poseidon warned. “He is supposed to be a master of hand-to-hand combat.”
Specs unlocked the handcuffs. Ryan rubbed his sore wrists as he stared at the door.
“Your circulation should be fine,” Poseidon said. “Open the door.”
Ryan hesitated.
“Is there a problem?”
“Never seen one like this before,” Ryan said. “Looks different.”
Still, the vanadium-steel door recessed into the back wall of the subbasement was nearly identical to the other ones Ryan had opened before, except for the color, which was a bright stoplight green, and the shape, which was hexagonal. The controls looked the same—the same numeric keypad to punch in the entry code. Some of the numbers appeared to have been worn down from use.
“Don’t delay, Cawdor. Open the door and let’s be done with it. You have my word your woman isn’t going to be harmed as long as you do as I say.”
Mental pictures of Shauna Watson, dead in her chair, went through Ryan’s mind.
The word of a madman.
“What’s in here you want so badly?” Ryan said. “The mat-trans units don’t even work right, and half the time, they’re broken.”
“Still, they are obtainable, and I want them,” the Admiral replied. “Plus, I am aware of the massive stockpiles of weapons these redoubts may hold. I need nukes, Cawdor. My submarine needs nukes. Even as we speak, I have a crew on board the Raleigh awaiting my return. If I find what I seek within this hideaway, we shall depart on our test mission as scheduled.”