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  “Shit, Major,” one of them chuckled. “That must be one hell of a crystal ball you have back at the office.”

  “Just because you’re good,” Lea said, “doesn’t mean you can’t get lucky.”

  She paused. “Our objective is in the wastelands of northern Ukraine,” she continued, while Pallas augmented the image. The profile of a small city appeared in silhouette, its dimensions extrapolated into a graphic that showed a cluster of buildings surrounding a large technical complex near the center of town. “The Old Federation abandoned the area a long time ago, for logistical and safety reasons—which means there are no military outposts anywhere nearby. Then there’s the radiation endemic to the region, which scrambles the ability of sensors to pick up electronic signatures. Put it all together, you’ve got a pretty good place to hide.”

  “What’s the target?” one of the commandos asked.

  Lea pointed at the shadow city, dark as the night of a new moon.

  “Chernobyl,” she said.

  The low flurry of discussion fell into an abject silence. Even now, over a century after the disaster that happened there, the sound of that name inspired a dry fear, like dust settling in a catacomb. It was the last place on Earth anybody would want to look.

  Pallas used the interface to overlay a sixty-kilometer circle on the map, with Chernobyl at the center. “Within this border is the so-called ‘dead zone’ around the city,” Lea explained. “This is where radiation from the old nuclear accident is still high enough to make long-term exposure dangerous. Nobody has lived within the perimeter since the late twentieth century, although the roads and structures within the zone are largely intact.”

  She motioned toward a satellite image of the reactor complex. Pallas zoomed in on the ancient facility, its lone cooling tower still jaggedly pointing toward the sky. Time had ravaged the power plant even more than the explosion that had blown the lid off the number four reactor, releasing untold amounts of deadly radiation into the atmosphere—radiation that still lurked in the buildings and forests of Chernobyl.

  “A sarcophagus of steel and concrete encases the damaged reactor,” Lea continued. “The decaying core is nominally contained inside, but over time the materials have become brittle and unstable. That’s why our mission profile calls for a remote insertion.” Pallas highlighted a section of road about twenty clicks inside the dead zone. “That’s our spot, right there. The distance minimizes the risk of disturbing the ruins and attracting attention, but it’s close enough for us to roll the rest of the way in our APC.”

  “A personnel carrier on an empty road makes a juicy target,” Tiernan said. “What about a more stealth approach through the woods?”

  Lea shook her head. “Too dangerous in the countryside. All those trees soak up radiation like a sponge. More than one hour in there and you’ll get cooked, even with protective gear. The road is the only safe way in or out.”

  Tiernan sighed. “Well, at least we won’t have to worry about electronic surveillance,” he observed. “If background rads are too much for our sensors, the Inru won’t be able to use them either.”

  “Which means we can get them before they even know we’re there.” Lea then directed Pallas to focus on one of the taller buildings in town, which stood a few blocks away from the power plant. “This is where we believe the Inru are holed up. It’s an old apartment complex, full of places to hide. Blueprints show the place has a basement, which is the most logical place for them to go. There’s cover from thermal satellite sweeps, plus enough shielding to protect them from the radiation.”

  “A party right under our noses,” the lieutenant said, impressed. “So what’s the protocol?”

  Lea handed the briefing over to Novak. “I’ve prepared your body armor with dual layers of specially resistant pollyalloys,” the GME said, as a lecturer would address her students. “This should offer you limited protection from background radiation, increasing your safe exposure times. All the same, I wouldn’t recommend a leisurely stroll. I’d keep my activities limited to what’s absolutely necessary, if I were you.”

  The members of the advance team swore under their breath. They bitched about every mission, because that was what soldiers were supposed to do—but in this case Lea understood perfectly. Even though she could never express it in front of the others, she felt the same way about this place. Chernobyl didn’t want them there. The city didn’t want anybody there.

  “What kind of levels are we talking about?” one of them asked.

  “Anywhere from 20 to 2,000 roentgens, depending on where you are,” Novak noted dryly.

  “Which is why it’s advisable to watch your step. Should you chance to walk into a rather robust dose, I’m afraid there won’t be much I can do for you.”

  “The most toxic zones are mapped out on the integrators I programmed for this mission,” Lea said, as those areas appeared in red on the display. “They’re also equipped with radiation detectors, so you’ll know your levels every step of the way. The primary danger, of course, is from the damaged reactor—but there’s also the park adjacent to the plant, and the town cemetery. The graphite core is buried there, so don’t set foot inside under any circumstances.”

  “Not unless you want to glow in the dark,” Pallas added.

  Novak leveled an icy stare at him. A green line, meanwhile, twisted between the red zones, following a convoluted path through town that terminated at the apartment building.

  “This corridor provides the least exposure,” Lea said, “so that’s our path.”

  Tiernan examined the approach and frowned doubtfully. “There’s a lot of kill zones along the way, Major,” he warned, pointing to a number of tight squeezes between structures—perfect places to get boxed in with no way out. “We get caught in there, our backs are against the wall.” He looked at Lea in earnest, something he did when he was searching her for clues. “What kind of contingency do we have?”

  The way he looked at her made Lea anxious. It wasn’t the first time—but it was certainly the first time in front of the team.

  “We fight,” she said evenly, “even if we have to pull the town out from underneath them.”

  Tiernan raised an eyebrow. Lea knew she would hear more from him later, but for now she just barked out commands. “We’re talking about an opportunity to end this thing, tonight. That’s why I need this to go by the numbers, people. We do this right, the Inru won’t get a second chance. Everybody understand?”

  The advance team nodded in agreement, and slapped one another on the shoulder in a show of swelling bravado. Lea knew they prized the hunt as much as she did, in spite of the dangers—especially when the entire game was at stake. In stoking each other, they were smelling Inru blood, which was just what Lea wanted.

  “Stations,” she ordered.

  The team disbanded to their landing positions, while Pallas left the display to assume control of the tactical interface. At the same time, Novak rounded the table and fixed Lea with a stare—the kind that was all business, no bullshit.

  “Fifty roentgens,” the GME said in no uncertain terms. “That’s your limit. More than that and you’ll back away, promise me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lea assured her with a weak smile. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I’m sure you do, my dear. They all do—particularly the ones who don’t come back.”

  With that parting shot, Novak left her alone with Tiernan. He hung back for a time, while Lea busied herself with the display of the town, absorbing its risks and its dimensions with the same cool detachment that had served her so well as a hammerjack. Lea missed the unbridled certainty of that world, where her victims had been virtual, the manifestation of some soulless corporate entity. Flesh and blood, as she had discovered, was a different proposition. As easy as it was to kill, it was much harder to watch people die—especially when those people were her own.

  Absently, she checked her armor compartments one last time, running down her list of weapons a
nd supplies. She paused for a moment over her medikit, counting out the ampoules of antirad elixirs and stims—including the speedtec doses she had requisitioned for just this mission. The amber liquid glinted at Lea, the fascination of a deadly poison.

  “You’re loaded for bear,” Tiernan observed, in the worn tones of someone who knew her better than she would have liked. “You think she’ll be there tonight, don’t you?”

  Lea snapped the medikit shut and stowed it back in her armor. She hated justifying herself to him, but always felt a compulsion to do just that. Tiernan was, after all, her XO—but Lea knew that his position had little to do with how she felt.

  “I’m not taking any chances,” she replied, turning back toward him. Lea read the fine lines in his face, his expression showing that same latent concern he always had when he looked at her. “She’s one of the few senior commanders the Inru has left, so it makes sense that she would be involved. Besides,” she added, letting more emotion slip than she intended, “this operation has her fingerprints all over it.”

  “You should know. You developed the Avalon profile.”

  Avalon. Her shadow was so omnipresent, and still it sounded strange to hear her name spoken out loud. That Tiernan had mentioned it was meant to provoke a response, but Lea didn’t take the bait. Instead, she raised a curious eyebrow at her executive officer.

  “You don’t need to tap dance around me, Eric,” she said evenly. “If you have concerns about this mission, just tell me.”

  “I’ve never been worried about the mission,” Tiernan reassured her. “You know this team would follow you anywhere, Lea—and that includes me.” He then lowered his voice before continuing, “I just want to be clear about our objective. We’re about to drop into some seriously hazardous territory, and that means tough choices. I can’t make that call unless I know what’s important—neutralizing the Inru or putting Avalon’s head on a spike.”

  “At this point, I’d say they were one and the same.”

  “Maybe they are—but where your head is makes a big difference.” He leaned in close. “If it comes down to saving one of us or taking Avalon out, which one is it going to be? You better make that decision right now, because in the field you might not get the chance.”

  Lea narrowed her eyes at him, but Tiernan didn’t flinch.

  What was worse, she knew he might be right. In the entire time she had been working as a corporate spook, not once did Lea come close to finding Avalon. The former free agent had been too sly, too cautious—dark matter in the Axis, leaving no patterns to trace, no trails to follow. But the Inru bore Avalon’s signature, in the boldness of their attacks and their unwillingness to abandon their jihad. In reality, all the leads Lea had chased down—and all the victories she had gained from them—had been incidental to her pursuit of the one target that still eluded her.

  Avalon.

  “I’m aware of that, Eric,” Lea answered quietly. “I’m also aware of my responsibilities.”

  “I know you are,” Tiernan said. “If I had the slightest doubt about that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But I won’t allow a personal vendetta to jeopardize the safety of my team, Lea. If I see that happening, I will pull the plug.”

  Lea forced down a swell of anger—but only because she didn’t want to create an incident in the middle of the CIC. From Tiernan, however, she hid nothing. Telegraphing her point with an intense glare, Lea made certain he knew that he had stepped over the line.

  “That isn’t your decision to make, Lieutenant,” she seethed. “If you have a problem with that, you can stay back here with the support crew.”

  Tiernan got the message, and backed off.

  “I go where my people go,” he said, submitting but not submissive.

  “They’re not just your people, Eric.”

  “I know that,” he said, softening a little. “I just don’t want to be in a situation where one of us gets between you and Avalon.”

  “That won’t happen,” Lea told him without the least bit of irony, “if you stay out of my way.”

  That ended the conversation—not on the note Lea wanted, but in a way that served her purposes nonetheless. She then turned back to her work, looking back up only when she knew Tiernan was gone. It was cruel, but to do anything less would have risked opening the discussion even further, in directions she couldn’t go.

  It’s for his own good, she told herself. He doesn’t want to know you that way.

  What frightened her was the thought that he already did.

  A full moon illuminated the night sky as the transport started its descent, the ungainly lines and jutting angles of its airframe traced in a panoply of vaporous light. Electronic countermeasures had, up until then, obscured the signature of the bulky craft, protecting it from the various missile installations that dotted the countryside below; but as it broke the heavy cloud cover over the Chernobyl dead zone, the pilot disengaged the ECMs and took refuge in the permanent layer of radiation that blanketed the wastelands like an invisible haze. By the time the forest loomed in the cockpit window, the leaden clouds had rendered the terrain almost completely dark, visible only as a green and black mosaic through the pilot’s infrared goggles.

  Lea, meanwhile, monitored the approach from inside the armored personnel carrier. The vehicle was parked on the aft cargo ramp of the transport, which opened into the frigid air as they neared the landing area. She was seated up front with her driver, and watched the unwelcoming landscape roll by on a dashboard monitor that carried a feed from the cockpit. As the wind howled outside her window, what struck her most was the utter lack of human activity. In a world where urban metroplexes covered half a continent, around here not a single light burned to curse the darkness.

  “Talon, this is Wanderer,” she heard Pallas say over her earpiece, his message peppered by light static. “We’re about one minute out. You guys ready?”

  Lea glanced over at her driver, who nodded affirmatively.

  “We’re all set, Wanderer,” she reported. “Sounds like your signal is dropping out. What’s the story?”

  “We’re picking up some interference from stray radiation. I was afraid of this, Skipper. Our coded channels operate in the same bands, so it’s only going to get worse the closer we get to the source. That could mean we’ll have problems monitoring the mission from here.”

  “What about the lower bands?”

  “Hold on.” After a moment, Pallas came back on and said, “Those are marginal for data, but good enough for voice. Of course, in this dead spectrum any open transmissions will stick out like a sore dick.”

  “Then we’ll maintain radio silence as long as we can,” Lea said. “Do your best with the passive feed, but no active bursts unless it’s an emergency.”

  “Affirmative, boss. Thirty seconds. Prepare to disengage.”

  “Acknowledged. Talon out.” Lea got out of her seat and poked her head into the rear of the APC, where all six members of the advance team were crammed. With all their weapons and gear, everyone was packed pretty tight. “Looks like we’re going in dark, people. Hyperband is spotty, so we’ll be on uncoded channels. That means we stay close—use the comm gear only when necessary. We don’t want to alert the Inru to our presence before we’re ready to take them down.”

  The team made the necessary switch to their personal transmitters. A round of comm checks crackled in their earpieces as each of them strapped a helmet on, their features illuminated in a pale red glow beneath their visors. Tiny columns of information appeared in the heads-up display in front of their eyes, keyed to sensors placed throughout their body armor. Lea studied the readings carefully as she flipped her visor down, paying the closest attention to the radiation counter. Already it was ticking at 30 microroentgens per hour—and that was within the confines of the APC’s shielded plates. Even now, the transport was starting to kick up plumes of radioactive particles.

  “Twenty meters,” Lea heard Pallas say.

  She strapped
herself back into the passenger seat, listening in silence with the others as Pallas counted the distance until landing. She rubbed her gloved hands together, unable to wipe the sweat of her palms or slow the urging of her heart, which made her body feel alive and restrained at the same time.

  “Contact,” the hammerjack said.

  There was a horrendous jolt when they touched down. Lea’s driver instantly threw the APC into gear, bouncing everyone around as the vehicle lurched down the landing ramp and into the open air. The hulking outline of the transport filled the thin slats of the forward windows, but only for a moment; as soon as the APC rolled away, the transport lifted off again and was gone. When the roar of the turbines faded, all that was left was a cloud of settling dust.

  And a lonely highway that stretched into forever.

  “Let’s move,” Lea said.

  HAMMERJACK

  A Bantam Spectra Book / June 2005

  Published by

  Bantam Dell

  A Division of Random House, Inc.

  New York, New York

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2005 by Marc D. Giller

  Bantam Books, the rooster colophon, Spectra, and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Giller, Marc D. (Marc Daniel), 1968–

  Hammerjack/Marc D. Giller

  p. cm.

  eISBN 0-553-90163-X

  1. Business intelligence—Fiction. 2. Supercomputers—Fiction. 3. Conspiracies—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3607.I436 H36 2005 2004065590

  813/.6 22

  www.bantamdell.com

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