There was another firm rap on the door. “Dr. Levassuer…Sam, can you hear me? Is everything all right in there? Your scanner was just activated a few minutes ago. I need to know if everything’s all right.”
Damnit! Kilmer moved quickly to the door and made an instantaneous decision. He cursed himself for failing to anticipate that his first botched attempt to enter the lab would have alerted security. A guard would normally be dispatched to investigate the matter. His error had uncharacteristically and fatally compromised the mission beyond recovery. Without further thought or hesitation, he reached into the small of his back and extracted his compact 380 Beretta automatic.
In one swift move, he jerked the door open and fired one shot into the middle of the guard’s forehead. The burly man was momentarily stunned to see Kilmer pointing a gun at him, but he had no time to react. The hollow point that was shot through his head blew the entire back of his skull and most of his brains onto the wall directly behind him. He stood there for a fraction of a second with an incomprehensible look on his face then crashed to the floor. He lay there involuntarily twitching, his heart still beating, but pumping an expanding crimson pool over the beige tile of the hallway floor. The life force slowly ebbed from his body.
“ Let’s roll,” Kilmer yelled to Weaver, who raced from the back of the lab at the sound of the gunshot. The first thing Weaver saw was Kilmer standing over the guard. Kilmer hastily re-holstered his revolver and caught a look of disgust in his partner’s face as they rejoined in the hallway.
“No choice, pally” Kilmer said, noticing that Weaver was about to vocalize shock and rebuke for what had just taken place.
“Poor bloke was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My bad. Crikey, Holloway’s gonna be madder ’n a cut snake…should o’ guessed I tripped an alarm from the git go.”
“Jeee-sus-key-rist,” Weaver slowly replied.
“Let’s make tracks, mate,” Kilmer said, trying to regain his composure. “Cavalry’s on the way. Git to the rendezvous.”
Weaver looked over the carnage in the hallway. “ Damnation ” was the only word that came to mind. He reached down to retrieve the guard’s radio. They could hear security trying to contact him every few seconds. Keeping the radio would apprise them of any new developments as they made their retreat.
“I didn’t have time in the lab to get into the computer system, but I did mess up the work area to make it look like I was searching for a password. This will make for some initial confusion,” Weaver said, as both men ran to the stairwell at the end of the corridor.
“Yer aces,” Kilmer replied. “We’ll have time later to pitch the cricket if we survive. Just now, we run the rest of the op as planned.”
The men entered the stairwell in earnest, taking the stairs two at a time to the roof. They followed the chatter on the dead guard’s radio, hoping they didn’t meet anyone as they made their way up.
As expected, the night-shift chief of security had been alerted when he heard what sounded like a gunshot from one of the upper floors. The chief had previously dispatched guard Frank Santos to investigate the silent alarm from the third-floor radiation lab, and was now frantically trying to raise a response from his trustworthy fellow guardsman.
“Frank, this is central, come in,” repeated the guard’s radio at intervals of every five seconds. “Frank, if you’re okay, give me a signal,” the chief repeated.
The failure to get a response from Santos after the first few tries prompted the chief to call the Palo Alto police department for backup. He held his position in the front lobby while monitoring the cameras that were his eyes to different points throughout the building. Because there was radioactive material used for research projects in the building, most of the video surveillance was oriented toward the outside-watching for anyone trying to break in. Once inside the building, however, there was a dearth of video surveillance, a condition that security had often said was a glaring deficiency.
“Frank, PAPD is on its way. Hang in there, buddy. If you can hear me, give me a signal,” the chief persisted, in frustrating but determined attempts to raise his partner.
“Marlon, ya copy?” Kilmer keyed into his mic. “PAPD’s on the way. We need an evac. Git down here, now.”
Both men were back on the roof and moving directly toward the center of the Quantum Building. They could hear the faraway wail of a police siren and knew there were only moments to evacuate. In no time, the entire block would be surrounded by SWAT and other tactical members from the Palo Alto Police Department.
“Ten-four, team leader. I’ve been monitoring radio traffic; confirming PAPD’s been dispatched to your location. Security reported a possible B amp;E with a non-responsive guard. They’re rolling two units, expected to approach from opposite sides of the building. Relax, team leader…I’ve got you in sight. It’s a walk in the park from here,” Travis Marlon radioed, much to Kilmer’s relief as he and Weaver both looked skyward for the helicopter that would bear them safely away.
The two men stood patiently as the Huey slowly descended toward the rooftop. Even over the roar of the rotor wash, the police sirens were growing appreciably louder now, signaling they would soon arrive at the Quantum Building.
A ladder made from high-tension cable was suspended beneath the helicopter. As it moved steadily closer to the center of the roof, Kilmer was careful to let the metal rope ladder touch the top of the building before grabbing hold. This allowed the static electricity generated from the rotating blades to discharge. Failing to do so would result in a seriously painful shock as the discharge went through his hand rather than into the building.
Without speaking, both Kilmer and Weaver hastily grabbed hold of the dangling ladder as the helicopter hovered some twenty feet overhead. Each held fast to a rung of the ladder and were flown through the air in a fixed-line fly-away — a term coined by the Army Rangers. This method of evacuation was quicker and actually safer than trying to land the helicopter on the roof of the building.
“Heave ho, evac,” Richard Kilmer yelled into his mic.
Weaver circled his finger overhead to indicate they were ready for the brief flight that would whisk them away from the Quantum Building. The two commandos held fast as the overhead rotor slowly lifted them up. They felt the full force of the wind blast from the rotating blades as the aircraft snatched them quickly off the roof. They could see the streetlights and traffic below and knew it was just a brief ride to Bowling Green Park, where Colt would be waiting with the van.
To divert attention from FAA and air traffic control, Holloway had Marlon submit a nighttime training flight plan. The Quantum Building and Bowling Green Park just happened to lie along the route to be flown. In this manner, Marlon could quickly do the evacuation from the roof, drop his payload, and continue along his pre- authorized flight path. This would also provide a plausible explanation about why he was flying near Stanford University and the Quantum Building at the time of the break-in. The evacuation from the roof and the subsequent flight to Bowling Green Park would only take about two minutes, allaying suspicion from FAA.
As the helicopter approached the drop-zone, the two commandos unclipped from the ladder and dropped to the ground from about five feet. This allowed Marlon to maintain his power and depart the area before anyone with radar noticed his aircraft hovering over the park.
“Good luck, team leader,” Marlon said, as he bid farewell to his teammates. “See you in San Jose.”
“Ten-four, evac,” replied Kilmer. “Ya saved our arses, mate.”
Both Kilmer and Weaver made a hasty retreat to the north end of Bowling Green, where the cargo van was awaiting their arrival. Colt Hamil sat behind the wheel with the motor running and immediately pulled away from the curb as they jumped in.
“The op was jigged; had to clip a guard who rolled us leavin’ another office,” Kilmer said, buckling his seatbelt.
“But lucky on us, we ripped-off Conrad and that scientist we clocked won’t r’member much. This gig started out aces…but went all to hell. Ya okay?” he asked, turning to look at Weaver.
Weaver nodded, but seemed preoccupied with watching Colt negotiate the traffic in his methodical and professional manner. “Jesus, what a fucked-up mess,” he uttered, finally comfortable that the worst was over. It didn’t appear that the police or anyone had witnessed them enter the van or leave the scene.
“I won’t second-guess your decision, Boss, but did you really have to blow away the guard?” he asked, irritated they had added murder to their list of crimes for the evening.
“Hey, thanks to you guys,” Colt interrupted, “I just added a second-degree murder to my rap sheet if we’re busted. What the hell happened up there? Did I hear you right? You broke into two offices?” he asked glancing
