But you don't. And you're running out of time!
She looked at the dozen racks that served as stations for Spacelab experiments.
Think! Where would he have put it?
Megan's gaze traveled to the space accelerator measurement system, then to the critical point facility. No. She started to move to the microgravity vestibular investigator module, then stopped.
A virus… Reed rearranged the order of the experiments. He put himself first, taking my place! He needed the Biorack!
Megan stepped over to the Biorack and fired up its systems. The LCD was blank.
Whatever he did, he erased the records.
Looking into the Glovebox, she discovered it was empty.
This is where you did your work, you son of a bitch. But where did you put the results?
Megan checked both incubator units, the access and control panels, and the power panel. The latter had been on even before she'd touched the Biorack's operating system…
…because the cooler is on!
Megan opened the cooler and checked the contents. Everything was in place. Nothing had been taken out or added. That left the freezer.
Pulling down the panel, she quickly inventoried the contents. At first glance, everything could be accounted for. Not satisfied, she pulled out one rack of standard test tubes, checked their markings, and set the rack back. She repeated the process with two more racks. In the third, she found a tube with no markings.
As soon as the shuttle's flight had stabilized, Reed unbuckled himself from the commander's chair. He entered an override program into the computer, set the timer, and activated the sequence. If his judgment was correct, he should reach the door to the tunnel just as the program released the emergency locks.
Climbing down the ladder, Reed entered mid-deck and plodded his way to the door. He had only a few seconds to wait before the locks popped open. Working the wheel, he pushed open the door and began crawling through the tunnel. Reaching the end, he pulled open the door to the Spacelab. There was Megan, standing by the Biorack, searching the cooler.
Reed came up behind her. His right arm caught her across the chest while his foot swept her legs out from under her. Gravity did the rest. Megan fell back, landing heavily on her shoulder and rolling over.
“Don't bother getting up,” Reed said into his microphone. “Can you hear me?”
He saw her nod, then opened the freezer and pulled out a rack of test tubes. He knew exactly where he'd placed the one containing the variola and there it was. Tucking it into a pocket with a secure Velcro flap, he stepped back. Megan had rolled over so that she could look at him.
“You can still stop this, Dylan.”
He shook his head. “You can't put the genie back into the bottle. But at least you'll die knowing that it's our genie.”
Reed never took his eyes off her as he backed away toward the door. Stepping into the tunnel, he closed the door and locked it.
The overhead clock read twenty minutes to touchdown.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A little over an hour had passed since Air Force One had landed at Groome Lake, Nevada. Escorted by a pair of F-15 Eagle interceptors, it had come in on the same runway that, a decade earlier, had been built to flight-test the B-2 bomber. As soon as the presidential platform was on the ground, a contingent of air force security accompanied the chief executive and his working group to the shuttle landing facility a mile and a half away.
In spite of the heat, the president insisted on walking along the runway with his group and then down the ramp into the holding area. He glanced around at the interior of the bunker. With its smooth concrete walls, broken only by outlets for the gas jets, it reminded him of a giant crematorium.
Which is really what it is…
The president pointed to a cocoonlike tube, eight feet high, five feet wide, that ran from one of the walls into the middle of the bunker like a gigantic umbilical cord.
“What's that?” he asked an air police lieutenant.
Castilla turned when he heard the soft whir of an electric golf cart. Seated beside an air force security guard was Dr. Karl Bauer. When the cart pulled up alongside the group, Bauer got out and, nodding at members of the entourage, walked directly to the president.
“Mr. President,” he said gravely. “It is good to see you again. Although I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”
The president knew that his eyes were his weakness. They always gave away his moods and emotions. Trying not to recall what Smith and Klein had told him, he forced himself to smile and to shake the hand of a man he'd once respected, who had been honored at the White House. Who's a fucking monster.
But what he said was, “The pleasure is mine, Dr. Bauer. Believe me, I'm grateful that you're here.” He gestured toward the cocoon. “Maybe you could explain this.”
“Certainly.”
Bauer led the way to the end of the cocoon. Looking inside, the president saw that the last six feet of the chamber were sealed off from the rest, creating a kind of vault or air lock.
“This portable cocoon is my own design and manufacture,” Bauer said. “It can be flown anywhere in the world, set up in a matter of hours, then coupled by remote control to the target. Its sole purpose is to extract an individual from a hot zone that may be difficult or impossible to enter ? which is the situation we are faced with.”
“Why not go directly into the shuttle, Doctor? Surely with protective suits that's possible.”
“Possible, yes, Mr. President. Advisable? No. We have no idea what is loose on board the orbiter. Right now, we have one survivor, Dr. Reed, who is not contaminated. It would be best to bring him off the ship and put him through the decontamination process rather than risk sending someone to get him. There's less chance of an accident, and we'd be able to find out very quickly what happened.”
“But Dr. Reed doesn't know what happened,” the president objected. “Or what we're dealing with.”
“We can't be sure,” Bauer replied. “Under the circumstances, it's not unusual for people to have observed or remembered more than they think they do. In any event, we then send in a robot probe to take samples. There are full lab facilities here. I will be able to tell you within the hour what it is we're dealing with.”
“In the meantime, the shuttle sits here, hot, as you would say.”
“Certainly you can give the order to have it destroyed immediately,” Bauer replied. “However, there are the bodies of the other crew members. If there is any chance of bringing them out, giving them a decent burial, I believe we should hold out for it.”
The president fought to keep his rage in check. The butcher's concern for his victims was almost more than he could bear.
“I agree. Please, continue.”
“Once the cocoon is mated to the shuttle, I will enter from the other end ?behind the wall,” Bauer explained. “I will walk into this small decontamination chamber, check it, and seal it. Only then will Dr. Reed be instructed to open Discovery's hatch and step directly into the decontamination area.”
Bauer pointed to PVC pipes running along the ceiling the length of the cocoon. “These supply electricity and decontamination detergents. The chamber is equipped with ultraviolet light, which is deadly to all known forms of bacteria. The detergent is an added precaution. Dr. Reed will undress. Both he and his suit-except for the sample we need ? will be cleaned at the same time.”
“Why clean the suit?”
“Because we have no practical way to dispose of it in the chamber, Mr. President.”
The president remembered the question Klein had asked him to raise. Bauer's response was vital, but it had to be elicited in such a way so as not to arouse the slightest suspicion.
