The Somali Deception Episode I (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) by Daniel Arthur Smith Page B

phone booth.   Dakarai led them to the dark pillar to
their right.   The terrain of the
gravel crunched differently than the sandy red soil they had been hiking
through.   Not until Dakarai cracked
the door did Cameron first hear the tinny resonation of electric guitar
riffs.   The sound came from a bowel
too deep for so small of a structure.   The weathered wooden door opened to a small room that revealed the lemon
lit outline of a second door.   Cameron thought of the TARDIS, a machine that carried Doctor Who, the
television time lord, through time and space.   A machine that looked like a small phone
booth on the outside yet was paradoxically infinitely larger within.
    Cameron realized where they were
going and was assured when Dakarai opened the second door to reveal a shielded
room no larger than a broom closet.   Illuminating the space was a clear glass bulb, dangling from the top of
the closet at the end of a rugged insulated wire.   The dim filament burned lemon.   The wire was staple tacked to the back
wall leading down to another bulb, and then another, below the floor where they
stood, deep into the ground.
    Not dissimilar than the TARDIS
machine that the television time lord Doctor Who traveled in, the outside of
the small building was a deception as to what existed within, or more precise
below.   The small structure on the
surface was misleading to the size of what space was hiding beneath.
    Dakarai took hold of the rungs
of a metal ladder fastened to the left sidewall of the closet then swung
inside.   “Close the doors on the way
down,” he said, glanced down at his feet, and then dropped out of sight.
    “Really,” said Pepe.
    “You are going to love this,”
said Alastair.   “Go ahead.”
    “You’re going to love this,” said
Pepe, his face scrunched.   “You use
that phrase too often I think.”   Then in a lower voice, “Qui est telle connerie.”
    Pepe took hold of the rung and
leaned over the shaft.   Below he saw
Dakarai still sliding several meters below.   Pepe lifted his head, “Oh.”
    “Do it,” said Alastair.
    Cameron slapped Pepe on the
back, “You weigh enough, you’ll drop fast.”
    “So funny you two.   See you in a moment,” said Pepe and then
he too swung himself onto the ladder rung and let himself disappear to the
depths below.
    Cameron and the others followed
Pepe down the shaft that led to a large music filled tunnel space meters below
the surface.   More of the insulated
wire was strung in a wide mesh across the naked rock ceiling and walls of the
tunnel.   Rows of tables, workstations
setup at many of them, filled the center of the cave.   On the far side of the space, next to a
freight lift that led up to the other structure in the clearing above, were
uniformly stacked pallets of crates.
    The music was coming from a
console system to their right, setup in a small makeshift entertainment enclave
that included leather chairs, a sofa, and a large flat panel that was silently
screening a zombie movie.   The
images on the screen oddly aligned with the rough electric guitar blaring out
of the oddly out of place tall pyramid speakers.   To their left was a kitchenette with a
microwave, mini-fridge, portable range, and espresso machine.   The back of the tunnel narrowed to a
passage that led further into the earth.
    At one of the tables, a man with
thick magnifier goggles was hunched under an engineer desk lamp, the variety
with several joints and springs for precise managed maneuverability.   The goggled man was working meticulously
on a clamped electronic device.   Another man in a safari vest was hovering closely above the first,
inspecting the work.   Dakarai was at
the kitchenette pouring water from a bottle fountain.   An air bubble traveled up through the bottle
producing a loud glug.   The hovering
man raised his head toward Dakarai, still almost cheek to cheek with the man
working beside him.
    “Oh, good.   You’re back,” the man in