Puller listened, considered their options. His deliberations went fast. He didn't have many. He approached the concrete wall from the back side. He pushed through the thick vines and forest tendrils covering its surface. He touched the rough hide of the thing.
"You sure your dad said this was three feet thick?"
"Yes. He watched them do it."
On a structure this big that would have been an ocean of cement. Only the Feds could have done something like this. It was like building the Hoover Dam in a way.
And for what?
"We have to get inside this sucker," he said.
"Okay, how?"
He touched the smooth surface. Concrete, unlike wood, became weaker over time, especially in elements like these. But three feet allowed a big margin of error for degradation of the material. He stared up the side; it rose nearly ten stories into the air. A few trees were taller than it, but not many. He could climb some of the vines to the very top, but then what?
Three feet. He couldn't hack through that. At least not without people knowing about it. He'd need a jackhammer plus dynamite. He looked down, where the concrete met the dirt. Burrow underneath?
He pulled out a collapsible spade from his knapsack and began to dig. Two feet in he struck something. He removed some more dirt and hit the hole with his light.
"Looks like iron," said Cole.
"Yeah, it does. Rusted but still intact."
He wondered how far out from the perimeter it went. It was probably a good many feet. People who engineered gigantic domes had almost certainly not gone cheap on the other details.
No way under. No way over.
Yet there had to be a way. You didn't build something like this and not provide a back door just in case something happened and you needed to get back in.
Something hit him. "Let me see the plans again."
She handed him the packet. He rifled through several pages before he found the one he wanted. He looked at the writing. It was clear. He just hadn't focused on it before. That was it.
He looked at Cole. "We need your brother."
"Randy? What does he have to do with this?" She scowled. "You're not telling me he's involved in this? First, you think my sister tried to blow you up and-"
He grabbed her arm. "No, I don't think your brother is involved in this, but I think he can still help. We need to find him."
CHAPTER
82
THEY CLEANED UP back at Cole's house and started looking. But finding Randy Cole proved harder than it probably should have in such a small town. Cole exhausted all of her possible places within an hour. She called her sister, but Jean had no idea where he was. They went into the Crib and then scoured the small downtown area, taking it block by block. back at Cole's house and started looking. But finding Randy Cole proved harder than it probably should have in such a small town. Cole exhausted all of her possible places within an hour. She called her sister, but Jean had no idea where he was. They went into the Crib and then scoured the small downtown area, taking it block by block.
Nothing.
"Wait a minute," Puller finally said.
With Cole in his wake he fast-walked to Annie's Motel. Puller started kicking open doors. On the fifth Cole looked in the room and said, "Randy?"
Her brother was lying fully clothed on the bed.
Puller and Cole moved inside and Puller shut the door behind him. He flicked the light on.
"Randy? Wake up."
The man did not move.
Cole drew closer. "Is he okay? Randy?"
"He's fine. His chest is moving up and down."
Puller looked around, then said, "Wait a sec."
Puller grabbed an old bowl off a cracked wooden bureau and went into the bathroom, where Cole could hear water start to run. Puller came back out with a full bowl of water and threw it on Randy's face.
He shot up and then rolled off the bed. "What the shit!" screamed Randy as he hit the floor.
Puller grabbed him by the back of his shirt, lifted him off the floor, and threw him back on the bed.
As his eyes focused, Randy gazed at Puller and then saw his sister staring at him.
"Sam? What the hell is going on?"
Puller sat down next to him. "Bed better than bushes now?" he asked.
Randy focused on him. "Was that water?"
"How drunk are you?"
"Not much. Not anymore."
"We need your help."
"'Bout what?"
"The Bunker," said Puller.
Randy rubbed his eyes. "What about it?"
"You got in there, right?"
"What?"
Puller gripped him by the arm. "Randy, we don't have a lot of time and I can't waste the time we do have trying to explain. We found a blueprint for the Bunker. On it, it said that there could be no mine blasting within two miles. The only reason they would have put that warning on there is if there had been a mineshaft already there or the potential of one. And they wanted to make sure that no one detonated explosives nearby. Your father was the best coal hunter around. And you worked with him. You probably know this county better than anyone. So is there a mineshaft that leads to the Bunker?"
Randy rubbed his head and yawned. "Yeah, there is. Daddy and I stumbled on it one day. It was already there, of course. We were looking for something else entirely. It was really two mineshafts. We followed the first in and found a second that ran in that direction. Followed that for a while. Daddy figured we were under the Bunker at that point. And he was right. That shaft was probably there from the 1940s, Daddy thought."
"But did you get into it?" asked Puller.
Randy looked sleepy again. "What? No, no, we didn't. At least not at that point. I think Daddy was curious about it. He'd always told us stories about the Bunker. We talked some about getting in there. But then he got killed."
Randy drew a long breath and looked like he might be sick.
"Just keep it together, Randy," said Puller. "This is really important."
"After Daddy died, I went back in there and dug a little more. I found a side shaft. Then I let it be for a long time. Went off on some drinking binges. Started sending threats to that asshole Roger. Then about eighteen months ago I went back in there. I don't know why. Maybe I was trying to finish something Daddy started. That's when I found a way in. Took some finagling and some muscle, but within a couple of months I was in. They might've put that dome over the building, and there was a concrete floor, but the floor had cracked in places, probably where the dirt shifted. Maybe from them dynamiting for coal way off somewhere."
"So you got in. And what did you find?" asked Puller.
"Big-ass place. Dark as a cave, of course. I looked around some. Saw some stuff. Workbenches, crap on the floor, some barrels."
"Barrels of what?"
"Don't know. Never looked that close."
Cole said, "Randy, that was dangerous as hell. That stuff in there could be toxic. It could be radioactive. Maybe that's why you've been feeling like crap all this time. Headaches and all."
"Guess it could be."
"What else did you see in there?" asked Puller.
"Nothing. I got the hell out. Place gave me the creeps."
"Okay, next big question. Did you tell anyone what you found?" asked Puller.
"Nah. What for?"
"No one?" said Puller. "You're sure?"
Randy thought for a minute.
"I might've told somebody, come to think of it."
"Dickie Strauss?"
Randy stared at him. "How the hell did you know that? We played football together. Used to hang out a lot. I was into the Xanadu thing for a while till I lost my bike to repo. Yeah, I told him. So? What does that matter?"
"Dickie's dead, Randy," said Cole. "Somebody murdered him. And we think it has to do with the Bunker."
Randy sat up straighter, all alert now. "Somebody killed Dickie? Why?"
Puller said, "Because he told someone else about the Bunker. And somebody got inside there too. And whatever they found is the reason all these people have been killed."
Randy said, "So what the hell is in there?"
"That's what I'm going to find out," said Puller.
"So you have any ideas?" asked Cole. "I mean about what's in there?"
"Yeah, I do," replied Puller.
"What?" asked Cole. "Tell me."
Puller said nothing. He just looked at her, his heart beating way too fast.
CHAPTER
83
EVEN THOUGH IT WAS STILL EARLY in the morning in Kansas, Robert Puller didn't sound particularly sleepy. The younger Puller didn't think his brother slept much in USDB. He was a brilliant guy. And brilliant guys didn't tend to sleep much in the outside world full of demands on their time and intellect. Puller figured they didn't sleep much more when all they had to look at were three walls of concrete and a metal door that remained shut twenty-three out of every twenty-four hours of each day. in the morning in Kansas, Robert Puller didn't sound particularly sleepy. The younger Puller didn't think his brother slept much in USDB. He was a brilliant guy. And brilliant guys didn't tend to sleep much in the outside world full of demands on their time and intellect. Puller figured they didn't sleep much more when all they had to look at were three walls of concrete and a metal door that remained shut twenty-three out of every twenty-four hours of each day.
"How you doing, bro?" said Robert.
"I've been better and I've been worse."
"Balance is good in life."
"Ninety-two and ninety-four. What do they mean to you?"
"Even numbers."
"Another perspective."
"Give me some context."
His brother sounded engaged now, instead of just curious.