The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (reading in the dark txt) 📗

entrance of the tunnel and waited, a tablet in her left hand and a phone in the other.

A swoosh came from the airlock. Footsteps followed soon after. One of the scientists appeared, wearing a white hazmat suit that covered them from head to toe. They held a vial that was roughly five centimeters long and maybe two centimeters wide. Inside it, a shimmering blue sliver of crystal pulsed and glowed.

Sandstrom took two involuntary steps forward as he peered at the vial and the stone within. “What is that?” he asked.

Friedman regarded him as she would a naughty child and then turned her attention back to the researcher in the hazmat suit. “Were you able to find any others?”

The man nodded. “Three others of varying sizes. Our sensors don’t detect anything else, though.”

Two more scientists in suits emerged from the white tunnel. One held two vials. The other held the third. Each of the glass cylinders contained small blue crystals that pulsed in the morning sunlight.

“Good,” Friedman said with a nod. “Get back in there and start cleaning up. I’ll make sure these are taken care of.”

She collected the four vials from the researchers. Then they retreated back into the tunnel, and then the cave after another swoosh from the airlock.

Friedman spun on her heels, stuffing the vials carelessly in her jacket pockets. She tucked the tablet under her armpit and raised the phone to her ear.

“What are those?” Sandstrom asked as she whisked by.

This time, she didn’t even acknowledge that he’d spoken.

“Get the site cleaned,” she said into the phone. “Immediately.”

Sandstrom stopped following her mid-stride and put out his hands wide in question. “What is that supposed to mean? What is going on? Are you going to tell me what’s in those vials?”

She halted, and her shoulders slumped.

Sandstrom waited, staring at her intently. He’d been given very little information about this job, only that he was to help oversee the collection of evidence from an archaeological site. When he’d asked his boss more probing questions, the man had simply offered, “It’s a national security issue. That’s all you need to know.”

Now, Sandstrom wanted to know more. He wanted to understand why he’d been stationed out here in the middle of nowhere with a team of scientists who apparently didn’t need him. The only thing he could figure was that the science team only needed his badge in case they were questioned by either local authorities or perhaps hikers who’d wandered off the trail and stumbled onto their site.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on here or not, Darcy? I’m tired of being kept in the dark. I want to—”

A muffled pop muted him permanently. She’d spun around so quickly, he didn’t have time to react. The pistol in her hand fired the bullet before he could finish his sentence, and the bullet ended his life, zipping through his skull just over the right eye.

Sandstrom’s body dropped to the ground, landing on the knees first, and then falling over onto its side. The man’s hollow eyes stared out at the trees beyond where Darcy stood. The gun in her hand leaked a thin trail of smoke from the suppressor’s muzzle.

She lowered the weapon as a team of eight people in black suits and masks appeared from behind the research tent. All of them moved with quick, singular precision, like the tentacles of an octopus, controlled by one mind.

They entered the tunnel in pairs. The airlock whooshed seconds later. Then the screams came. The sounds were faint, dimmed by the seal around the entrance. But Friedman could still hear them among the distant sounds of gunfire. Then, within ten seconds of the massacre’s onset, it was over. Silence returned to the mountain slopes, providing an odd sort of serenity.

Friedman placed the weapon back inside the folds of her jacket, concealing it once more. The first two of her team emerged from the tunnel, followed by two more sets. The last pair, she knew, were rigging the cave entrance with explosives, as she’d instructed.

When the two demolition experts appeared at the tunnel’s entrance, they merely gave her a confirming nod and continued up the hill to join the rest of the team. Friedman barely acknowledged Sandstrom’s body as she pivoted on her heels and marched up the hillside toward the road.

She and the others reached their black SUVs at the top of the slope. One of her men held a door open for her on the back passenger side of the second in the line of three vehicles. She paused, looked down at her watch, and then heard the explosion.

The mountain earth beneath them rumbled for two or three seconds. The booming sound echoed out over the hills and valleys beyond, but only momentarily. Then the noise was gone. The earth stilled. And the forest returned to its previously serene state, with only a narrow plume of smoke rising from the treetops as evidence of their deed. The smoke would be gone soon, and unless a forest ranger was driving by on the road, no one would realize what happened for days, perhaps weeks.

This little mountain demolition had lit the main fuse, and nothing could stop it now.

4 Plovdiv, Bulgaria

Kevin Clark had never been so afraid in his life.

He ran as fast as he could, but athletics had never been his strong suit. A lifelong student and bookworm, the only exercise he usually got was on the stationary bike in his office, and he only did that to maintain decent blood pressure and cardiovascular health.

His leg muscles burned with every step, and he promised himself if he got out of this alive, he would start working out more regularly.

A quick look over his shoulder didn’t comfort him. The men following him were no longer in view, and for some reason that only made things worse. Knowing where they were at least gave Kevin hope he could keep an eye on them. Now that they were out of sight, there