Pressure Chamber, page 31
“So you’re here seven days a week?”
“Every other Saturday, then the Command sends soldiers to do the weekend I’m off.”
They walk down an underground hallway with incandescent lights on the walls, passing one closed door after the other.
“Where’s the logic in being here from eight to five?” Daphne wonders out loud. “What if war breaks out in the middle of the night?”
Sammy flips a switch and another dark corridor lights up on their right. “First of all, we’re talking about the army, so don’t expect too much logic. But I think they figure that between the time the war begins and the time the injured and the black body bags start pouring in, I’ll have enough time to get here. To set all the emergency systems into motion takes two hours at the most, and I know the procedures by heart.”
Daphne looks around while they keep walking, her gaze crosses to Rotem who replies with a nod. “Are there any other levels here?”
“A machine-room level below us.”
“Okay,” Rotem interjects, “let’s do a quick check through all the rooms.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.” Rotem sounds adamant.
“There are a lot of them.”
“So quickly then.” Rotem smiles.
He consents and begins opening the doors one by one and turning on the lights. Laundry room. Emergency equipment room. X-ray room. Underground ER. Wards for patients. A morgue.
“What are the showers here for?” Daphne points at a row of shower heads in one of the rooms they visit.
“In the event of a chemical warfare attack.”
“Why like that, without curtains?” The row of exposed showers sparks unpleasant memories in Daphne.
“Believe me, if you’ve been hit by phosphorus or mustard gas, the last thing you’re going to care about is privacy.”
They go down to the lower level and the guard opens all the doors there too.
“This isn’t the place,” Rotem says as they leave the last room.
“True,” Daphne agrees. The place is prepared for war, but nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening there.
“Tell me, Sammy,” Rotem asks on their way back up, “you said you do a communications check at ten, right?” Now she walks next to him, her hand no longer ready to draw her gun, and Daphne climbs a few steps behind.
“Affirmative. In an hour or so.”
“And when you do the test, can everyone hear everyone else?”
“Affirmative. The duty officer goes through all of us one by one and everyone responds in turn, from Rebecca Sieff Hospital in Safed, down to Yoseftal in Eilat. It takes two minutes.”
“Have you been here for the past two weeks?”
“Affirmative.”
“And when you did the communications checks during that time, was there anyone who didn’t respond? Someone who was missing?” Rotem fires questions one after the other.
He stops to think, frowning.
“Affirmative. Perry. Poor guy. Came down with bronchitis. He was at home for three days and he’s still hoarse now.”
Rotem turns towards Daphne and their eyes meet. “Where is he?” they ask in unison.
“Probably at home now.”
“No,” Daphne almost shouts. “Where does he work? Which facility?”
“Tel HaShomer.”
“Thanks.”
They race up the remaining stairs towards the exit, but when Daphne opens the door, Rotem turns around and runs back towards Sammy, who is lagging behind them. “Listen,” she pants, “when you do today’s communications check, don’t breathe a word about us being here or anything we discussed. And not on the phone in any conversation or to anyone either. Got that?”
“Affirmative.”
“It’s really, really important,” Rotem reiterates.
“Not a word. I swear to you.”
“And is the facility at Tel HaShomer identical to the one here?”
“Don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
They run to Rotem’s car. As they leave the parking lot, she checks to make sure that Daphne is buckled before slamming her foot on the gas. “We’ll be there in ten,” she says.
Daphne does a quick reality check. “I’m letting Nathan know,” she says.
“Cool.”
She calls.
“Nathan, we know where he is.”
Rotem is driving while Daphne provides Nathan with details about the emergency bunkers and daily communications checks as the car races through the empty Saturday morning roads, which are just beginning to fill with cars.
“No, I didn’t see a weapon on him. And not in the facility either. Unarmed guard duty. Maintenance, in fact.”
“No way! I’m not waiting for anyone. We’ll be there soon. Five minutes.”
“Yes, I’m with her.”
“We’re carrying.”
“There’s no way they can get there before us.”
“No, Nathan, we don’t have time to waste… Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you, there’s no reception here, you’re breaking up.”
She hangs up.
Rotem doesn’t say a word but speeds through another intersection just as the yellow light turns red.
89.
He looks at the folded ring of metal that pierced his arm. Blood is dripping from it and sliding over the oil. Not now. He leaves it stuck in his flesh and shoves the Guardian with his other hand.
She’s strong. She’s dangerous. She could put an end to the plan. That’s not an option.
He takes advantage of the second during which she loses her balance a little, runs for the door and slams it behind him. He’ll do it alone. Traitor. She can die there in the room without food. Die for all he cares.
Back in the X-Ray Room, he goes over to the treatment table. With one tug, he pulls the piece of metal out of his arm and then he pours alcohol over the cut straight from the bottle. It burns. The agony of redemption. The pain rises and redemption approaches. The blood washes onto the floor. He places a strip of medical gauze on the wound and fixes it in place with a white bandage. When he’s done, he slips his arm into an elastic bandage, which holds the dressing underneath in place.
He goes to the Temple and opens the door. The Three are splashing in the warm water and watching the screens around them inquisitively. They’re warm, they’re comfortable, they have no reason to complain. Resting on a tray are the required instruments, waiting for the Guardian but now ready for him. Everything’s sterile. Pure. IV needles are attached to their polyethylene tubes, transparent and flexible. Bottles of baby formula are ready, mixed with a small amount of ibuprofen.
* * *
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
Four
Three
Two
One
A brief buzz and the door opens.
Lee holds back for a few seconds, making sure there’s no response, and then she steps into the Images Room, gripping a tin of corn tightly in her hand. She stands still and listens. Apart from her own heartbeat, she can’t hear a thing.
After he bolted from the room, she assumed he would keep an eye on her with the cameras, so she went about her business as usual. She prepared a bottle for Yoavi, placed a few baby biscuits on the blanket for him among the toys, and only then did she open the door. Now, she looks back. Yoavi is on the floor, drinking from his bottle. “I’ll be right back,” she mouths silently and closes the door.
The trail of blood on the floor leads her to the X-ray Room. It’s empty. She goes out into the hallway and walks slowly. The noise of the dryer echoes through the open door to the Laundry Room. The door to the Temple is open. A pale orange light is visible through the opening, and she can make out soft classical music too. Lee’s fingers tighten around the tin can. Walking on tiptoe, she approaches the doorway and peeks inside.
It’s the first time she’s seen the Temple. The screens on the walls, the hot tub. She can see the three babies inside. They’re naked, strapped in, but they are not crying. She feels comforted by this momentarily.
He’s standing with his back to her, but from the sounds she can hear she knows he’s fiddling with medical equipment on stainless-steel trays. The cut on his arm is bandaged. The awful sign on his back terrifies her. She watches him wash his hands meticulously with alcohol-soaked cotton. One finger at a time. And then he puts the cotton aside and picks up an IV needle.
She has to act now. No, she’ll wait for him to move closer to the hot tub, to bend over. He’ll have to remain really focused to find a vein in a baby’s arm. Or leg. Or neck. And just when he’s totally focused on the task, she’ll launch herself at him again. Her eyes are fixed on his back as he approaches one of the babies.
Kuperman stations, Kuperman here. Testing, testing, testing. Do you read me? Over.
The voice sounds distant behind her, like it’s coming from behind one of the closed doors. She jumps, startled, and just before he turns she manages to dash behind the open Laundry Room door. She stands there, pressing herself to the wall.
One here. Loud and clear. Over.
She hears him mutter something and realizes that he’s left the Temple. He’s barefoot, but she can hear his wet footsteps on the hallway floor. Then the footsteps stop. She can see him through the crack between the hinges and the wall, standing in the doorway. He sniffs the air. She holds her breath.
He walks into the Laundry Room.
He stands in the center of the room and spreads his arms out. His eyes are closed, and he raises his face towards the ceiling. And then, with his eyes still closed, he pulls the needles out of his hands and throws them onto the floor.
Two here. Loud and clear. Over.
He goes over to the storage cupboard, removes a bottle of fabric softener and opens it; and out falls a commando knife.
Three, do you read me? Over.
He sniffs the air again.
Three, do you read me? Over.
He leaves the room and turns in the other direction, away from the Temple. She hears a key turn in a lock, a door open and then his voice: “Three here. Loud and clear.”
She comes out from behind the door and runs as fast as she can to the Temple, where she lies down flat on the floor behind the hot tub. She waits a few seconds and then cautiously sits up, her back against the side of the tub.
Four here. Lou—
The radio goes silent. She can hear her own rapid breathing. She presses the tin can against her chest in an effort to ease her panting. Through the sound of the water in the hot tub, the music and the babbling of the babies, she won’t hear him approaching. He’ll walk in any second. Maybe he’s here already. Maybe he won’t hear her.
“I can smell you.” His voice freezes her. “I smell your toothpaste. Your sweat. The shampoo I bought for you. The softener on your clothes.”
Daphne presses down on the handle and pushes the door. It doesn’t budge.
“Should we buzz him on the intercom?”
“We can try. I don’t expect him to open.”
Daphne presses the button with the bell sign on it. There’s a buzz.
No response.
Again. Then several longer and more agitated buzzes.
Rotem draws her weapon and aims it at the door.
“Back up. I’m firing.”
It takes four bullets to shoot out the bottom lock. Another five for the top one. Rotem presses down on the handle again, but the door still won’t open. She empties the magazine into the keypad, and the door finally opens to reveal an illuminated staircase.
They begin their descent.
Lee hears a short buzz sounding above her, followed by a series of longer ones.
There’s a moment of silence, then loud bangs echo from above. Is it finally happening? Have they finally come to rescue her? She’s too scared to believe it.
She hides behind the hot tub, knowing he’s already moving towards her, that he’s on her scent like an animal, but the buzzing causes him to stop in his tracks and she hears him hurrying out of the Temple.
When the stairs come to an end, Daphne leads the way down the hallway at a run. Unlike the facility they’ve just visited, the rooms here are all locked. They go from door to door until they find one that opens to reveal a large room with X-ray equipment. The same as they saw in the previous bunker. But there’s another door here. They run across the room.
He follows them from the far end of the hallway, the knife in his hand.
Yes, he recognizes them. The two women who came to the room when he was shackled to a chair, beaten and bruised. The genuine policewoman who, at the sight of him, abruptly revisited a childhood trauma, and the fake policewoman, Rotem, who could recite verses.
The anger that made his hair stand on end when his plan was interrupted transforms into hope. There are no more footsteps on the stairs. There are just the two of them here, wandering around his facility on their own. Excellent. They may not have said anything to anyone. They may want to take credit for finding him and the Four. This is his chance to upgrade the Guardian. He tightens his grip on the knife handle, feeling a stab of pain where the needle punctured his hand.
He wonders how they found him. And if they have, perhaps others can as well. He’ll have to question them after he contains the situation by trapping them in one of the rooms. He’ll kill the genuine policewoman and take the other one, Rotem, to serve as his new Guardian. He’ll explain the plan to her. All the details. She’ll understand. She’s not like all the other fools. And when she gets it, she’ll participate and maybe even become an active player in the project. Two to kill, and one to keep. He peeks at them from a safe distance. They do not look his way, too busy exploring the rooms they enter.
“What the fuck…” the policewoman whispers as they walk into the Images Room, her eyes moving over the walls and shelves.
“Wow.” Rotem moves forward and takes a close look at the X-ray images. “He really is planning to join them together somehow.”
They think that they’re alone but pressed up against the wall in the X-ray Room, close to the doorway, he can hear them. And when they go into the Guardian’s room, he slips into the Images Room behind them. He spots the pistol Rotem has in her hand. He’ll have to be careful. Something already went wrong. The Guardian managed to get out, and she’s wandering around freely. He smelled her in the Laundry Room and the Temple, but where is she now? She’s dangerous. He needs to make it quick with these two and then go back to deal with her before she does any damage. Backstabber.
“There’s a baby here!” The policewoman runs over to A2, who is sitting on the floor sucking vigorously on his bottle. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, bending down towards him. He doesn’t appear distressed or very impressed by their presence. Rotem goes over to the empty cribs. She shakes the comforter on the bed, then hurries over to the door to the toilet and opens it.
“Three of them are gone. And Lee was here.”
He moves towards the door with the intention of slamming it closed and locking them in.
The policewoman caresses A2’s head. He can tell she’s trying to read the faded ink on his forehead.
“Let’s go on,” Rotem says. “We need to find out what’s happening with the others. We’ll come back for him.”
He realizes that he isn’t going to make it to the door without them noticing. So he runs back to the X-ray Room and hides inside. They pass him and go back out into the hallway.
“Look.” The policewoman stops outside the room, squatting and examining a wet footprint. She reaches out and touches it with her finger, which she then holds up to her nose. “It’s olive oil. Did he step in olive oil?”
“Sacred oil,” Rotem responds immediately.
“What?”
“This was the dedication offering for the altar from the leaders of Israel when it was anointed: twelve silver dishes, twelve silver bowls, twelve gold pans.”
“What?”
“It’s either a sacrificial rite or he’s taken another step towards becoming the new Messiah. Whatever the case, it’s not good. Come on, let’s go.”
But the woman is still focused on the floor. “The prints go in both directions; he’s wandering around.” She leans in close to Rotem. “Maybe he’s following us now,” she whispers.
Rotem looks up and down the hallway and raises her voice a little. “I’m looking forward to talking to him when he reveals himself to us.”
Of course he’s going to reveal himself to them. He’s going to reveal himself to everyone. But everything in good time. He needs to explain to her first that this isn’t a sacrificial rite. She’s wrong. For a moment, he wants to get up and tell her right now, so that she’ll understand, but he stops himself and waits for them to move away.
They head towards the Laundry Room.
“There’s blood here too,” the policewoman whispers, pointing at the floor. Rotem simply nods.
He peeks out from behind the door, then takes advantage of the dryer noise and races to the Temple. He knows he’s taking a gamble, but it pays off. They don’t notice him. They are both focused on the Laundry Room, examining the large dryer filled with snow-white towels, the obsessively neat equipment cupboard, and discovering the blood-stained needles on the floor.
He enters the Temple and presses himself against the wall alongside the door. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply. The smell of the Guardian is still here. She’s hiding here, behind the hot tub. There’s nowhere else she could be. He’ll check soon. Meanwhile, he stays absolutely still where he is. In the low orange light, they won’t spot him right away. He hears their footsteps approaching the Temple. He can smell them.
* * *
Lee doesn’t move. She hears him come into the room again, then she thinks she hears talking, but perhaps she only imagines it. He’s barefoot, his footsteps are quiet. She doesn’t dare lift her head and peek. Someone infiltrated this locked facility – of that she is certain. She decides to stay where she is and let whoever came in deal with him. She saw the knife in his hand. She doesn’t really have a chance against him with a tin can. As long as he doesn’t touch the babies, she’ll remain flat on the floor.
