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  Area 7

  ( Shane Schofield - 2 )

  Matthew Reilly

  AREA 7

  MATTHEW REILLY

  St. Martin's Paperbacks

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should

  be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as

  "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the

  author nor the publisher has received any payment for this

  "stripped book."

  First published in Australia by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  AREA 7

  Copyright © 2001 by Matthew Reilly.

  Excerpt from Contest copyright © 2003 by Matthew Reilly.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information

  address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY

  10010.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2001054458

  ISBN: 0-312-98322-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  St. Martin's Press hardcover edition / February 2002

  St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / February 2003

  St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 987654321

  For John Schrooten, my friend

  I'LL TRY TO BE QUICK. SINCERE THANKS ONCE AGAIN TO:

  Natalie Freer--who gets to see (and put up with) my

  creative eccentricities up close. Her patience and generosity

  know no bounds.

  My brother, Stephen Reilly--tortured writer, constructive

  and creative critic, and good friend; and to his wife,

  Rebecca Ryan, because they come as a package.

  My wonderful parents--Ray and Denise Reilly--for

  encouraging me to build miniature movie sets for my Star

  Wars action figures when I was a kid; my creativity comes

  directly from them.

  My good friends John Schrooten, Nik and Simon Kozlina,

  the whole Kay clan (notably Don, who made me shrink

  the size of the cats in Temple), and to Paul Whyte for accompanying

  me on an extraordinary trip to Utah while researching

  this book.

  A special mention to two American friends--Captain

  Paul M. Woods, U.S. Army, and Gunnery Sergeant Kris Hankinson,

  USMC (retired), who generously gave of their time

  and assisted me with the military details of this book. Any

  mistakes are mine, and were made over their objections.

  And finally, once again, thanks to everyone at Pan

  Macmillan and Thomas Dunne Books. This is our fourth

  outing together and it still rocks. Thanks to Gate Paterson,

  Jane Novak, Sarina Rowell, Paul Kenny, and Pete Wolverton.

  And, of course, as always, to the sales reps for the countless

  hours they spend on the road between bookstores.

  To anyone who knows a writer, never underestimate the

  power of your encouragement.

  All right! Now on with the show. ...

  UNITED STATES AIR FORCE

  SPECIAL AREA (RESTRICTED) NO. 7

  GROUND LEVEL: Main Hangar

  LEVEL 1: Hangar Bay

  LEVEL 2: Hangar Bay

  LEVEL 3: Living Quarters

  LEVEL 4: Laboratories

  LEVEL 5

  LEVEL 6: X-rail platform

  GROUND LEVEL: MAIN HANGER

  LEVEL I UNDERGROUND HANGAR BAY

  Air

  LEVEL 2: UNDERGROUND HANGAR BAY

  shaft

  LEVEL 6: X-RAIL PLATFORM

  Regular

  elevator

  Tunnel

  blast doors

  >

  rail engines

  Maintenance

  vehicle

  The single greatest fear that America faces today

  is that its military forces no longer tolerate the

  continuing incompetence of its civilian leadership.

  Mr. George K. Suskind,

  Defense Intelligence Agency,

  Evidence given before the House

  Sub-committee on the Armed Forces,

  22 July 1996

  The difference between a republic and an empire is

  the loyalty of one's army.

  Julius Caesar

  AREA 7

  INTRODUCTION

  From: Katz, Caleb

  The C.B. Powell Memorial Address: "The

  Presidency"

  (Speech delivered at the School of Politics,

  Harvard University, 26 February 1999)

  there is no other institution in the world quite like the

  President of the United States.

  All at once, the person who holds this title becomes the

  leader of the fourth most populous nation on earth, the

  commander-in-chief of its armed forces, and the chief executive

  officer of what Harry Truman called "the largest going

  concern in the world."

  The use of the term "chief executive" has made comparisons

  with company structures inevitable, and to a certain extent,

  they are appropriate--although, what other corporate

  leaders in the world have 2-trillion-dollar budgets at their fingertips, a license to use the 82nd Airborne Division to enforce

  their will, and briefcases at their sides that can unleash an arsenal

  of thermonuclear devastation against their competitors?

  Among modern political systems, however, the American

  President is unique--for the simple reason that he is

  both head of government and head of state.

  Most nations separate these two functions. In the United

  Kingdom, for instance, the head of state is the Queen; the

  head of government is the Prime Minister. It is a separation

  born out of a history of tyrants--kings who wore the crown,

  but who also governed at their often erratic pleasure.

  But in the U.S., the man who runs the country is also the

  4 Matthew Reilly

  symbol of the country. In his words and his deeds, the President's

  every act is a barometer for the glory of the nation.

  For his strength is the people's strength.

  John F. Kennedy staring down the Soviets over Cuba in

  1962.

  Harry Truman's nerves-of-steel decision to drop the

  atomic bomb on Japan in 1945.

  Or Ronald Reagan's confident smile.

  His strength is the people's strength.

  But there are dangers in this arrangement of things. For

  if the President is the embodiment of America, what happens

  when things go wrong?

  The assassination of John F. Kennedy.

  The resignation of Richard Nixon.

  The humiliation of William Jefferson Clinton.

  The death of Kennedy was the death of America's innocence.

  Nixon's resignation drove a knife into the heart of

  America's optimism. And the humiliation of Clinton was the

  global humiliation of America--at peace summits and press

  conferences around the world, the first question asked of

  Clinton was invariably directed at his sexcapades in a study

  adjoining the Oval Office.

  Be it in death or disgrace, decisiveness or courage, the

  President of the United States is more than just a
man. He is

  an institution--a symbol--the walking, talking embodiment

  of a nation. On his back ride the hopes and dreams of 276

  million people ... [pp. 1-2]

  From: Farmer, J. T.

  "Coincidence or Co-ordinated Murder?

  The Death of Senator Jeremiah Woolf"

  Article from: The Conspiracy Theorist Monthly [circulation: 152 copies]

  (Delva Press, April issue, 2001)

  ... The body was found in the woods surrounding the senator's

  isolated hunting cabin in the Kuskokwim Mountains in

  Alaska.

  Area 7 5

  Truth be told, at the time of his death Jerry Woolf was

  no longer a senator, having retired abruptly from Congress

  only ten months earlier, surprising all the pundits, citing

  family reasons for the unexpected move.

  He was still alive when they found him--no mean feat

  considering the high-velocity hunting bullet lodged in his

  chest. Woolf was immediately taken by helicopter to

  Elaine County Hospital, one hundred and fifty miles away,

  where emergency residents tried in vain to stem the blood

  flow.

  But the damage was too severe. After forty-five minutes

  of emergency treatment, former United States Senator Jeremiah

  K. Woolf died.

  Sounds simple, doesn't it? A terrible hunting accident.

  Like so many others that happen every year in this country.

  That's what your government would have you believe.

  Consider this: Blaine County Hospital records show

  that a patient named Jeremiah K. Woolf was declared dead

  in the emergency ward at 4:35 p.m. on the afternoon of February

  6, 2001.

  That is the only record of the incident that exists. All

  other records of Woolf's examination at the hospital were

  confiscated by the FBI.

  Now consider this: on that very same day--February 6,

  2001--on the other side of the country, at exactly 9:35 p.m.,

  Jeremiah Woolf's Washington townhouse was destroyed in

  an explosion, an explosion that killed his wife and only

  daughter. Investigators would later claim that this blast was

  caused by a gas leak.

  The FBI believes Woolf--previously a vibrant young

  senator, crusader against organized crime, and potential

  presidential candidate--was the victim of an extortion

  racket: leave us alone, or we'll kill your family.

  This is, without a doubt, a government smokescreen.

  If Woolf was being blackmailed, well, one has to ask: why? He had retired from the Senate ten months previously.

  And if he was killed in a routine hunting accident, why were

  6 Matthew Reilly

  the records of his emergency room procedures at Elaine

  County Hospital taken by the FBI?

  What really happened to Jerry Woolf? At the moment,

  we just don't know.

  But consider this final point: owing to the time difference,

  9:35 p.m. in Washington, D.C., is 4:35 p.m. in Alaska.

  So at the end of the day, after all the talk of hunting accidents

  and Mafia blackmail and faulty gas valves is cast

  aside, one fact remains: at the exact same moment that former

  United States Senator Jerry Woolf's heart stopped beating

  in an emergency room in Alaska, his home on the other

  side of the country exploded in a gigantic ball of flames ...

  AREA 7

  PROLOGUE

  Protected Inmates' Wing,

  Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary,

  Leavenworth, Kansas,

  20 January, 12:00 p.m.

  IT HAD BEEN HIS LAST REQUEST.

  To watch the inauguration ceremony on television.

  Sure, it had delayed the trip to Terre Haute by an hour, but

  then--so the powers-that-be at Leavenworth had reckoned--if

  the condemned man's last request was reasonable, who were

  they to refuse him?

  The television threw a flickering strobelike glow onto

  the concrete walls of the holding cell. Tinny voices came

  from its speakers:

  "... do solemnly swear..."

  "... do solemnly swear..."

  "... that I will faithfully execute the office of President

  of the United States..."

  "... that I will faithfully execute the office of President

  of the United States..."

  The condemned prisoner watched the television intently.

  And then--despite the fact that he had less than two

  hours to live--a smile began to spread across his face.

  THE NUMBER ON HIS PRISON SHIRT READ: "T-77."

  He was an older man, fifty-nine, with a round, weather

  beaten face and slicked-down black hair. Despite his age, he

  was a big man, powerfully built--with a bull neck and broad

  10

  Matthew Reilly

  shoulders. His eyes were a bottomless unreadable black and

  they glistened with intelligence. He'd been born in Baton

  Rouge, Louisiana, and when he spoke, his accent was

  strong.

  Until recently, he had been a resident of TWing--that

  section of Leavenworth devoted to inmates who are not safe

  among the general prison population.

  Two weeks ago, however, he had been moved from

  T-Wing to Pre-Transit--otherwise known as the Departure

  Lounge--another special wing where those awaiting execution

  stayed before they were flown out to Terre Haute Federal

  Penitentiary in Indiana for execution by lethal injection.

  A former civil war fort, leavenworth is a maximum

  security federal prison. This means it receives only those offenders

  who break federal laws--a class of individuals that

  variously includes violent criminals, foreign spies or terrorists,

  organized crime bosses, and members of the U.S. armed

  forces who sell secrets, commit crimes or desert.

  It is also perhaps the most brutal penitentiary in America.

  But in that peculiar way of prisons the world over, its

  inhabitants--men who have themselves killed or raped-- have, over the years, developed a strange sense of justice.

  Serial rapists are themselves violated on a daily basis.

  Army deserters are beaten regularly, or worse, branded on

  their foreheads with the letter "D." Foreign spies, such as the

  four Middle Eastern terrorists convicted of the World Trade

  Center bombing in 1993, have been known to lose body

  parts.

  But by far the most ferocious treatment of all is reserved

  for one particular class of prisoner: traitors.

  It seems that despite all their own crimes, all their own

  atrocities, the American inmates of Leavenworth--many of

  them disgraced soldiers--still profess a deep love of their

  country. Traitors are usually killed within their first three

  days in the pen.

  William Anson Cole, the former CIA analyst who sold

  information to the Chinese government about an impending

  Area 7

  Navy SEAL mission to the Xichang Launch Center, the epicenter

  of China's space operations--information which led

  to the capture, torture and death of all six SEAL team

  members--was found dead in his cell two days after he

  had arrived at the prison. His rectum had been torn from

  repeated violations with a pool cue and he had been str
angled,

  hog-style, with a bed leg tied across his throat--a

  crude simulation of the Chinese torture method of strangulation

  by bamboo pole.

  Ostensibly, prisoner T-77 was in Leavenworth for

  murder--or more precisely, for ordering the murder of two

  senior Navy officers--a crime which in the U.S. military

  carried the death sentence. However, the fact that the two

  Navy officers he'd had killed had been advisers to the Joint

  Chiefs of Staff elevated his crime to treason. High treason.

  That--and his own previous high ranking--had earned

  him a place in T-Wing.

  But even in T-Wing a man isn't entirely safe. T-77 had

  been beaten several times during his short residency there--

  on two occasions, so severely that he'd required blood

  transfusions.

  IN HIS FORMER LIFE, HIS NAME HAD BEEN CHARLES SAMSON Russell and he had been a three-star Lieutenant General in

  the United States Air Force. Call-sign: Caesar.

  He had a certified IQ of 182, genius level, and as such

  he had been a brilliant officer. Methodical and razor-sharp,

  he'd been the ultimate commander, hence his call-sign.

  But most of all ... patient, Caesar thought now as he

  watched the flickering television screen in front of him.

  The two men on the screen--the Chief Justice of the

  Supreme Court and the President-Elect--were finishing

  their duet. They stood in gray, wintry sunshine, on the West

  Portico of the Capitol Building. The new President had his

  hand on a Bible.

  "... and will to the best of my ability.. "

  "... and will to the best of my ability..."

  12

  Matthew Reilly

  "... preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of

  the United States, so help me God."

  "... preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of

  the United States, so help me God."