Medusa

The incident seemed to bring her back to reality. Joe’s charm and soft-spoken manner penetrated Lois’s shell, and she began to relax. She was actually smiling until Phelps returned with the news that his boss was bringing along someone named Dr. Wu.

Mitchell stiffened when she heard the name.

“He’s no doctor,” she said, “he’s a monster!”

“Maybe it’s time you showed Joe the video,” Phelps suggested.

Mitchell was stone-faced as she took a key on a chain hung from around her neck and unlocked a drawer in her desk She reached in and pulled out a box holding a number of CD-ROM discs. She picked out one labeled COMPUTER PROGRAM BACKUP. Her fingers trembled as she slipped the disc into her computer and turned the monitor around so that it was facing the two men. The disc’s narrator spoke Chinese.

“No subtitles?” Zavala asked.

“You won’t need them once this thing gets going,” Phelps said. “I’ve seen it before.”

“Wu is Chang’s creature,” Mitchell said. “His job is to check on our progress. When he’s here, he kicks me out of my office. Luckily, he doesn’t like being on the lab.

“I found this disc in the computer after his last visit. He must have been reviewing its contents. I made a copy, then left the disc in the computer. He eventually realized he had left the disc behind and sent one of his thugs to retrieve it.”

A picture had come up on the screen. The camera showed Wu talking to a man in a suit, then switched to a view of some people lying in beds encased in transparent cylinders. Figures in protective suits moved among the cylinders. The camera zoomed in to show close-ups of the people in them. Some appeared to be asleep or possibly dead. Others had faces mottled with mahogany splotches and contorted in agony.

“Is this a hospital?” Zavala asked.

“Far from it,” Mitchell said in a tense voice. “That’s Dr. Wu narrating. From what I can determine, the video was shot at a lab in China where they were experimenting with vaccines the Triad created. I don’t know the man in the suit. They used human subjects, and of course they had to infect their subjects with the virus. You can see the results on the screen. He’s worse than that Nazi Mengele, the concentration-camp doctor.”

“Dr. Mitchell showed me this stuff a while ago,” Phelps said. “Now you see why I’ve come over to your side.”

A rage began to build in Zavala’s chest, and when the video had ended he said, “Someone is going to pay for this.”

“Funny to hear you say that,” a familiar voice said. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Three heads turned simultaneously. And three pairs of eyes widened at the sight of Austin, who stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. He held his Bowen loosely in his left hand.

Zavala stared at his friend. He wasn’t totally surprised to see him: Austin had a way of popping up when you least expected him. But Austin’s wet suit was covered with blood and jellyfish slime.

“You look like you’ve been wrestling in raspberry Jell-O,” Zavala said. “Are you okay?”

“My right arm is feeling a little useless right now, but the blood isn’t mine. On the way here, I stopped in a room with a big round tank. A guy jumped me, and we were waltzing around when some of the smaller tanks in the room broke and spilled their insides all over the floor.”

“The small tanks contained organisms in various stages of mutation,” Mitchell said. “You’re lucky the big tank didn’t break. Those creatures were the final mutant phase, the one used to make the vaccine. Each tentacle contains thousands of nematocysts, tiny harpoons that inject the toxin into prey.”

“My apologies for the damage, but it couldn’t be helped,” Austin said. He introduced himself to Lois Mitchell. “When I saw you from outside the dome, I thought that only Joe Zavala could find a lovely woman at the bottom of the ocean.”

Her eyes widened.

“That was you I saw?”

Austin nodded.

“I was watching you and Joe and got careless.”

He turned to Phelps.

“From the conversation I overheard a few minutes ago, it sounds like you’ve come over from the Dark Side.”

“That video nailed it for me,” Phelps said. “Joe seems to be okay with the deal.”

Austin didn’t have time to subject Phelps to a lie-detector test. He glanced at Zavala, who gave him a nod, then came back to Phelps.

“Welcome aboard, soldier,” Austin said. “What’s our status?”

“Chang is on his way to the lab to pick up the vaccine,” Phelps said.

“He’ll be here any minute,” Mitchell added.

“That’s good,” Austin said unexpectedly. “Chang and the people responsible for the scenes on that video are walking dead.”

Unexpectedly, Lois began to sob.

“I’m one of those people,” she said. “I collaborated on the vaccine work.”

“You can’t beat yourself up, Dr. Mitchell,” Austin said, trying to cushion the force of his words. “You were forced to work on the vaccine. You and the other scientists would have been killed if you hadn’t.”

“I know that,” she said. “But I went overboard to make sure the project was a success. It was as if I were trying to show them we could meet the challenge.”

“Rock and a hard place,” Phelps said. “Now that the vaccine’s a fact, they won’t need the staff or the lab. Joe and I have come up with a plan to get everyone off the Locker.”

Austin didn’t answer right away. He squinted through the dome where he had seen a flicker of light. Recalling the high visibility of the globe’s interior to outside eyes, Austin hit the light switch, throwing the office into darkness.

“Your plan had better be a good one,” Austin said. “Look.”

All eyes turned to see the shuttle carrying Chang and Dr. Wu as it descended toward the lab like a star falling in slow motion.

CHAPTER 44

MINUTES LATER, THE SHUTTLE SETTLED ON THE LANDING pad and the open roof over it closed again like two halves of a clamshell. Powerful pumps kicked into action and rapidly cleared the airlock of water, but Chang nonetheless was seething with impatience. He finally burst from the shuttle like a moray eel springing from its den and slogged toward the exit door as the last few inches of water gurgled down the drains. The weasel-faced Dr. Wu followed a couple of paces behind.

When the door to the airlock hissed open, Phelps was standing in the adjacent chamber next to the control console. He stepped up to Chang and greeted him with a lopsided grin.

“You got here fast, boss. Musta put the pedal to the metal.”

Chang stared at Phelps with barely concealed contempt. American jargon was lost on him, and it annoyed him when Phelps used it. He had never fully trusted Phelps and suspected his loyalty extended only to the next paycheck.

“Enough talk!” Chang snarled. “Where is the vaccine?”

“Dr. Mitchell has it,” Phelps said. “She’s been waiting in the mess hall for you to arrive. The NUMA guy is with her.”

“And the laboratory staff? Where are they?”

“They’re all tucked away in their quarters.”

“Make sure they stay there. You have disabled the minisubs, as I ordered?”

Phelps dug out four flat, rectangular boxes tucked in his belt.

“These circuits control the subs’ power supplies,” he said.

Chang snatched the circuit boards from Phelps, dropped them on the metal floor, and ground them to pieces