Chapter 15 - The Infiltration
By 0415, a dense, suffocating sea fog had rolled across Narragansett Bay, blanketing Fort Adams in a shroud of white vapor. The fortress—an imposing monolith of granite walls and arched brick casemates dating back to the 19th century—looked like an ancient tomb rising out of the mist. Modern chain-link fences topped with razor wire and high-definition thermal cameras flanked its perimeter.
Michael moved through the brush like a shadow. Age had not stolen the muscle memory drilled into him during his years with Naval Special Warfare. He timed the sweep of the security cameras, cutting through the perimeter fence in three precise snips during the camera's five-second blind spot.
“Lucas, Callahan, through the breach,” Michael commanded in a whisper.
They crawled beneath the low-hanging pines, slipping into the dark tunnels of the fort’s outer bastions. The smell of moist earth and centuries-old brick hung heavy in the air. Above them, the low hum of the transmitter dishes vibrated through the stones.
“Security checkpoint ahead,” Callahan warned, peering around an arched stone corner. “Two guards, body armor, automatic weapons. They’re watching the main access tunnel leading to the communication bunker.”
“I’ll take them quiet,” Michael said, drawing a combat knife from his boot.
“No,” Lucas whispered suddenly, pulling a maintenance master-key fob from his pocket. “We don’t need to go through the main tunnel. The civil defense junction box runs through the old powder magazine ventilation shaft. It leads straight beneath the transmitter floor.”
Michael looked at the key, then at his son. A faint, grim smile touched his lips. “Lead the way, technician.”
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They squeezed through the narrow, unlit shaft, their shoulders scraping against damp limestone. The claustrophobic passage opened directly beneath the false flooring of the high-frequency radio room. Above them, through the perforated metal floor tiles, they could hear the rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the clipped voices of technicians monitoring the military networks.
“Ready the drive,” Michael whispered to Callahan.
