Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [87]
"They just shot him," she whispered. "Like he was a lab specimen or something."
Dani nodded. "All they need is an excuse. If they're so eager to kill us, what are we doing here?"
That question was answered ten minutes later, when a tall Asian man strode into the hanger. A woman in a black jumpsuit followed him like a shadow. The man's arrogant gaze swept over the hostages as he walked among them. Most of the prisoners averted their eyes. To her shame, Dr. Reed did, too. But not Dr. Bascomb, The doctor's undisguised hostility only seemed to amuse their captor.
"My name is Jong Lee," the stranger said at last. "You will each tell me your names, your fields of expertise, so that I may determine your value. If I am satisfied by your answers, you will board the airplane outside. If I am not..."
Lee paused, gestured to the woman at his side. "My assistant Yizi will deal with any unpleasantness."
18THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF Б A.M. AND 6 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
5:02:51 a.m. PDT
Runway 33R/15L
Groom Lake Air Force Base
Tony's plan was to sneak over to Hangar Six, where he'd stashed a Glock and a cache of ammunition inside an idle generator. But with daylight coming on fast, and the fuel truck parked on the dimly-lit tarmac, pumping hundreds of gallons of JET A-1 into the Boeing's tanks, the 737 was a target of opportunity too tempting to ignore.
Tony had scouted around Hangar 18 a number of times. It was the largest structure on the base, capable of holding a pair of Boeing 737s. Tony knew experimental aircraft were being stored there, but because access was restricted he'd never been inside.
He did know that welding tools and tanks were stored in a small cinder block maintenance shed next to the massive hangar. He'd been there a few days ago because that's where civilian welders had assembled the microwave tower that was later erected at the test site.
Under the fast-brightening sky, Tony moved without detection across the desert terrain, well away from the illuminated runways and building lights. He observed a contingent of prisoners being herded into Hangar Five. He'd hoped the raiders would ignore the dormitory and stick to the technology labs and testing centers. But it seemed the enemy wanted more than just machines. Either they were gathering hostages to use as human shields, or kidnapping highly trained technicians. Either way, Tony would do his best to stop them.
It took a long time, but Tony finally reached the shed. The door was locked so Tony used a rock to smash the padlock. It took several minutes and plenty of scraped knuckles, but he finally slipped through the door and closed it behind him. In the glow of the overhead light Tony gathered up everything he would need to make a modern variation on the old-fashioned Molotov cocktail.
Five minutes later, Tony left the shed with two hand-held welding tanks strapped to his back, and a striker thrust in the elastic band of his sweatpants. As he circled the massive hangar, the building's interior echoed with shouts and the sound of things breaking.
Cautiously, Tony approached the runway near the tail of the aircraft — and couldn't believe his luck. Most of the activity around the airliner had ceased. The men had finished loading the cargo bays, and had once again fanned out across the base in a search for more loot. The Boeing was guarded by only three men now. Better yet, the fuel truck was parked less than twenty yards away from the spot where Tony lurked. The man who worked the hose was standing under the wing, facing two guards who had gathered at the bottom of the portable stairs.
This was going to be a whole lot easier than Tony first thought. He watched the man at the hose abondon