Subterranean by James Rollins Read Free Book Online Page B

should return it to Khalid, but then he would know Jason had been there eavesdropping. He was shoving it into his pocket when his stall door popped open.
    â€œThere you are!” Ben stood before him. “Your mom thought maybe you fell in.”
    Jason grinned. He pushed the cube the rest of the way into his pocket.
    â€œWhat’ve you got there, mate? Did you pinch that third cookie?” Ben’s smile took the heat from the accusation.
    â€œNo,” Jason said, with a hiccup of laughter. “It’s nothing.”
    â€œAll right, then. Let’s shoot some pool.”
    Blakely leaned into a gust of wind as he crossed the base. The CO’s office was on the far side of the camp, away from the trash dump. If he didn’t need this damned equipment so badly, he would have proceeded directly to Alpha Base. But communiqués and requests by Roland failed to sway the obstinate CO. He needed those damned circuit boards; they were essential to the communications net.
    He strode up the steps to base headquarters, where a guard checked his identification. Blakely gave him a sour look while waiting. A red U.S. Navy helicopter buzzed them, spraying ice and debris into the guard’s cubicle. Frowning, the guard glanced up.
    â€œYou’re clear, Dr. Blakely.”
    â€œThank you.” He proceeded inside. Damned rules. He continued down the corridor after hanging up his parka. The CO’s corner office was on the first floor. He strode up to the secretary, a yeoman with black-framed glasses and poor posture.
    â€œI’ve come to speak to Commander Sung,” Blakely said before the secretary could open his mouth.
    â€œDo you have an appointment?”
    â€œJust tell him it’s Blakely. He’ll see me.”
    â€œHe’s quite busy at the moment.”
    Blakely shook his head, recognizing bullshit when he smelled it. “Tell him I’m here.”
    â€œJust a moment.” The secretary punched a button on a board of yellow lights. He turned away as he spoke, but Blakely could discern the words. “Excuse me, sir, but there’s a Dr. Blakely wanting to speak to you.” A pause as he listened to the phone, then, in an even quieter voice, “I tried that, sir. He’s insistent.” Another pause, his face reddening. It didn’t take much to discern the secretary was on the receiving end of a good dressing-down. The conversation finished with a final, “Yes, sir.”
    The secretary, beads of sweat on his forehead, turned to face Blakely again. “The commander will see you now. Thank you for your patience.”
    Blakely felt sorry for the yeoman. He leaned down as he passed around the desk and whispered, “Don’t worry, son, everyone knows Sung’s an asshole.”
    The secretary grimaced. “Good luck.”
    You make your own luck, Blakely thought, as he pushed through the door to the inner office.
    Commander Sung sat behind a wide mahogany desk so thickly lacquered it looked wet. Spread out before him were several open files. He pushed one file toward Blakely with a single finger as if repulsed by the touch. “I’ve read your request, Andrew.”
    Blakely hated when anyone called him by his first name. Especially a sanctimonious paper pusher like Sung. This was not the first time the two had locked horns. As the head researcher for the National Science Foundation, he was often in deadlock with Sung, the senior Navy officer. Oftentimes, science and the military were at odds on certain subjects—especially the scarce supplies stocked at this remote base.
    Their animosity had intensified once Blakely had made his discovery of the diamond idol. He watched Sung turn green, coveting all the attention and money that had been flowing his way. Ever since, any cooperation with the military on the base was like pulling an impacted tooth.
    Sung continued, a slight sneer at the corner of his lips, “I thought I already made