There was a slight pause. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, but it’s Maverick.’
‘Maverick! God no!’
‘I’ll meet you in the foyer in half an hour.’ Imran had an apartment one floor above Kate’s.
‘Make that fifteen minutes!’ She threw the phone back into its cradle and stumbled toward the bathroom, angry and confused.
Kate found herself struggling into her blue biosuit and she slowed down. Keep calm, she whispered, reminding herself of the extreme dangers that awaited her and Imran on the other side of the airlock. If Maverick was down there wasn’t anything she could do about it, although she felt another surge of frustration at what they were being asked to do.
When she emerged from her cubicle, air regulator over her shoulder, Imran was waiting for her outside the airlock door. He handed Kate her boots and she nodded her thanks. Neither of them felt like voicing the concern that both were feeling. Kate snapped the face plate on her suit shut and followed Imran into the decontamination shower airlock, closing the heavy stainless steel door on the level 3 side. When he was satisfied it was sealed, Imran opened the corresponding door opposite and Kate followed him into the hot side, through the main lab to the animal room at the far end where Richard and Karl were waiting for them, their faces pale behind their heavy face shields.
Again Kate forced herself to remain calm as she reached for one of the red oxygen hoses hanging from the ceiling near Maverick’s cage. Oblivious to the rush of air into her suit, Kate focused on him. He was lying on his side on the floor of the cage. Kate knew from the grimace of pain on his wise old face that her soulmate from the animal kingdom had suffered a horrible death. His brown, blood-flecked eyes stared back at her lifelessly. Kate could almost see the ‘why’ in their depths. Turning to Richard, she motioned for the cage door to be unlocked but Imran held up his hand. He shuffled over and retrieved a long pole from its storage position and Kate nodded in understanding. Even though Maverick was dead Imran had to be doubly sure. A tear in a biosuit from the death throes of a smallpox-ridden chimp would be fatal.
Imran and Richard lifted Maverick’s body out of the cage and onto a stainless steel trolley, then wheeled him across to the necropsy room. Rigor mortis had begun to set in and one of Maverick’s legs remained bent as they lifted him on to the stainless steel dissection table. Both Imran and Kate knew that, of all the procedures in a hot lab, an animal autopsy was one of the most dangerous. One slip with a scalpel or cutting tool could be fatal and Kate turned towards Richard and Karl to make sure they were well clear of the table.
Kate slipped a rubber block under Maverick’s back so that his chest was pushed up and forwards, then she forced his arms down and out of the way. Imran took a scalpel from the workbench on his side of the necropsy room and made a careful Y-shaped incision from either side of Maverick’s neck. Moving slowly, he reached for the stainless steel rib cutters and began to cut through Maverick’s ribs.
Kate steadied herself, unprepared for what was lying underneath Maverick’s breastplate. Imran looked up and gave Kate a meaningful shake of his head. The Variola major had attacked all of the chimpanzee’s organs with a viciousness that neither Imran nor Kate expected. Maverick’s intestines were haemorrhaging. His heart, kidneys and lungs were speckled and reduced to a red mush and there wasn’t a single organ the virus hadn’t penetrated. Variola major, Kate reflected, was far more deadly than most people realised. No wonder the legendary Dr D. A. Henderson, along with hundreds of others who’d worked for decades to eradicate the virus from the planet, had wanted the stocks destroyed.
Imran worked methodically, cutting out Maverick’s haemor-rhaged liver and placing the mushy red tissue into a plastic necropsy container. He stepped back, holding his scalpel clear, and nodded to Kate who reached across for the container so she could label it. The two had worked together for such a long time that each was acutely aware of what the other was doing, but as she turned to place the contaminated plastic container on the bench behind her she collided with Karl, who’d come into the room for a closer look. To her horror, she felt a sharp prick through her glove. Karl was still holding the scalpel he’d been inspecting and it had punctured Kate’s glove in an instant. The plastic container splattered Kate’s biosuit with blood as it dropped to the floor. Maverick’s liver slid over the white tiles, leaving a red stain of hot India-1 virus in its wake.
Karl reeled back, his face white. Despite feeling sick, Kate’s training kicked in. Holding her gloved hand steady with the cut downwards to minimise any seepage, she reached up with her other hand and unhooked the coiled red air hose from her regulator. She glanced at Imran who was doing the same and she eased her way past Karl who was now standing back against the stainless steel workbench, the scalpel still in his gloved hand.
‘Please God, oh please God don’t let any get to me.’ It was an entreaty to a God Kate had not spoken to in a long time. As she turned on the decontamination shower and the blood streaked from her suit, she looked across toward Imran who was turning on the shower opposite. His face was ashen.
CHAPTER 50
C urtis caught the movement again and he rested his M4 carbine against the trunk of a larch and scanned the forest ahead through the crosshairs of the specially fitted telescopic sights. As a large yak came into view, Curtis expelled the air from his lungs and eased his finger from the trigger. He paused long enough to appreciate the magnificent mountain animal, then returned to the vehicle to check his position on a small GPS receiver the size of a mobile phone.
‘50°’ 41', 85°’ 32'. Less than 100 kilometres to go,’ Curtis said, folding up one of the CIA’s Russian 1:100,000 maps of the area. The maps were surprisingly reliable, but the GPS system was accurate to within a metre, and two hours later, as they reached the edge of the small clearing at the top of the ridge that the special forces pilots had chosen as the designated landing zone, Curtis nodded with satisfaction. At the bottom of the valley below them he could see a lake, exactly where he’d calculated it would be, one of thousands nestled in among the majestic mountain chain. With his position verified, Curtis backed the four-wheel drive into the forest and pulled out his satellite radio.
‘Mountain Goat, this is Antelope, over.’
The special forces pilot responded immediately. ‘Antelope, this is Mountain Goat, we have you strength five, over.’
‘Antelope is in position, over.’
‘Mountain Goat, we’re about fifteen minutes out but we’ve had some radar traffic to your north, over.’
Curtis scanned the horizon and then he saw it. A black dot coming up the valley, moving fast.
‘Antelope, wait out.’
As Curtis focused his binoculars, the ‘black dot’ materialised into a Russian military helicopter – an Mi-8T or ‘Hip’. The Mi-8T approaching up the valley toward Curtis’ position was the same variant as the CIA was bringing in to extract him and Dolinsky. The rocket and anti-tank grenade launcher pods on the side were only too clear now. Although he couldn’t see how many men were onboard, Curtis knew the Hip was capable of carrying twenty-four fully equipped Russian soldiers.
‘Russian soldiers, Eduard, and my guess is they’re not too pleased at being called out on a Sunday, but this will even up the odds a bit,’ Curtis said, handing Dolinsky the 9mm Browning and three spare magazines.
Eduard Dolinsky shook his head. ‘I don’t use guns,’ he said.
‘You do now, sunshine,’ Curtis replied, shoving the weapon into the scientist’s hand. ‘I’m sorry if the casualty rate is going to be a bit below the millions you aim for in your profession, but do your best to make each one count,’ Curtis added, reaching for the radio.
‘Mountain Goat, this is Antelope, we’ve got company down here.’ Curtis had counted sixteen soldiers scrambling out of the big Hip that had landed in a clearing near the lake, about 300 metres below Curtis’ position. ‘Hip Mi-8T, grid 853504 beside the lake. So far there’s only sixteen of them, over.’
‘This is Mountain Goat, I’ll deal with the Hip first, then we’ll see about you and Einstein, out.’
Curtis smiled grimly. Einstein was their codeword for the Russian scientist. By the look of consternation on his face, Dolinsky was not going to lower the odds against the soldiers moving up the hill toward them by much.
