“78924,” Connelly responded robotically.
Locke entered the number. The door buzzed, and the bolt disengaged. Now that the klaxon had been shut off, the buzz sounded like an air horn in the empty stairwell.
Locke opened the door and shoved Connelly through it. No gunfire. Locke went in and saw another white hallway. Turner, Grant, and Dilara followed him in, their weapons held high.
“Where are they?” Locke said as he wrapped plastic ties around Connelly’s wrists. He didn’t need the guard any more. “Where’s Garrett?”
“Observation chamber.”
“Where’s that?”
“Right at the elevator. Halfway down.”
“What are they doing there?”
“Preparing the dispersion cases. Burning everything else.”
“Dispersion cases?” Locke stood and faced the others. “Must be like the one I found on the Genesis Dawn. That’s why my father wanted the bomber as backup.”
“So what’s the plan?” Turner said.
“Not much time left,” Locke said. His watch showed 9:53. Seven minutes. “We need to go in full throttle.”
Leaving Connelly on the floor, Locke jogged down to the elevator and peeked around the corner toward the north stairwell. Empty. Garrett must assume that they wouldn’t be able to get into the fifth level without blowing a door open, which would ruin any chance of being taken by surprise. Of course, Garrett didn’t know they had the helpful Connelly with them.
Locke waved at the others. They crept down the hall toward the observation room door. They were a quarter of the way down the hall when a door opened at the other end 70 feet away. A woman in a biohazard suit walked out and stopped in her tracks when she saw the four of them.
She shrieked and ran back into the room. That was all it took.
A guard with a weapon stepped out of the observation room, and Turner took him down with a three-shot burst. Locke ran down the hall and slid on his back past the door on the slick tile. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of Garrett and Svetlana Petrova going out a door on the opposite side of the room as he sailed past. A hail of bullets dotted the wall above Locke. He took a shot in that direction and thought he hit someone.
Turner leapt over the fallen guard and into the room. He took a hit in the shoulder and fell to the ground, but it was enough of a distraction for Grant, who followed him in and shot the last guard. Locke went in next.
A man in a white lab coat was crouched under a control panel in terror. Through a large window, Locke could see three others in biohazard suits inside a steel-lined chamber. On the chamber floor were three cases identical to the one Locke had taken from Garrett’s stateroom to the CDC. The men inside the chamber stopped what they were doing and watched the gun battle inside the observation room.
Locke noted all of this in a second, including that Garrett wasn’t there. Locke plunged through the opposite door and rolled onto his knees, ready to dodge gunfire. He saw Petrova throw open the stairwell door and Garrett turned and looked straight at him. Even from this far away, Locke could see the hate on Garrett’s face. Locke saw that Garrett wasn’t carrying a case.
Locke raised his gun to fire, but Petrova pulled Garrett into the stairwell with her, and he missed the shot. Locke went back into the observation room.
Grant was pressing his hand to Turner’s left shoulder.
“How is he?” Locke asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Turner said with a grimace. “We’re running out of time. Let’s finish this.”
Locke turned to the man at the control panel.
“Tell those people to get out now. Don’t bring anything out and lock it up.”
The men in the biohazard suits complied quickly, locking the chamber.
“Is that all of it?” Locke said, pointing his weapon at the cowering operator, who nodded furiously.
“That’s all the Arkon we have left.”
“Arkon? That’s the prion agent?”
“Yes.”
“And you can burn it all in there?”
Another nod.
“Then fire it up.”
“Wait a minute, Locke,” Turner said. “We’re supposed to secure it, not destroy it.”
“Sorry, Captain. Nobody’s getting their hands on this stuff. Especially my father.” To the operator, Locke said, “Do it.”
Turner made a move to stop him, but Grant put his hand on the Captain’s gun.
“Uh uh,” Grant said. “I didn’t go through all this just to let the Army get hold of a new weapon.”
“Captain Turner,” Locke said, “you didn’t see what Arkon can do. It reduced an entire planeload of people to bones in a matter of hours. I heard the tape of the pilot. That kind of death must have been excruciating. Do you have family?”
“A wife and two sons,” Turner said.
“Garrett was planning to use the Arkon to kill them and everyone else you’ve ever known. I’ll sleep a lot better knowing we’ve destroyed it. Won’t you?”
Turner paused, then said, “My official order to you is to secure that bio-agent. In my current condition, it might be difficult for me to stop you if you disobey my order.” He gave Locke a weak smile.
“Well,” Grant said, “that takes care of the technicalities.”
“Now,” Locke said to the operator, who pressed a red button marked, “Sterilize.”
Flames shot up inside the chamber. Locke watched the temperature gauge. Within seconds, the chamber was over 1000 degrees. The cylinders of Arkon in the open cases began to burst open, spewing their contents into the fire. Anything not metal melted and burned.
When the gauge hit 1500 degrees, Locke breathed a sigh of relief. The threat was gone, and the military was not going to have a new bioweapon to play with. Now they could focus on opening the barriers and saving their own butts. Locke looked at his watch.
“Five minutes left,” he said. “Time for us to implement phase two. Dilara, can you handle this guy?” Locke pointed at the chamber operator.
Even though a round was already chambered, she racked the bolt on the submachine gun and ejected a bullet for effect, which obviously frightened the operator even further. “I’m ready.” Her voice sounded much clearer.
Locke gave her Grant’s radio. They’d have only one chance, and the timing would have to be perfect.
“And you, Captain? No hard feelings about burning up the Arkon?”
“You still talking about that? Let’s finish this thing and get those barriers open. I don’t want to die any more than you do.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“I’ve still got one good arm. I can do my part.”
“Good. We’re only going to get one shot at this. We need them to be convinced they’re going to be infected by the Arkon. Captain Turner, when you’re in place, blow the seventh level door. Dilara, that will be your signal to press this button.”
Locke pointed to a button next to the one marked “Sterilize.” Inside a flip up lid that was in place to prevent accidental activation was a black- and yellow-striped button labeled with the bold letters, “Containment breach.”
FIFTY-FIVE
The B-52 from Fairchild AFB turned to begin its final pass over the Olympic peninsula. Even with the 30,000 -pound MOP in its bomb bay, the immense bomber made the turn easily. It would take exactly 4 minutes and 39
