cell lines were jammed, right? And you cut the landlines, right? It’s late in the day,” I said. “Communication between the cells would necessarily be at a minimum anyway. I think we have to hit it by noon tomorrow.”
“Why not right now? We have sufficient firepower to do a hard entry.”
I shook my head. “There are three reasons why that’s not going to happen tonight. First, you need to interrogate your prisoner. Second, the meat plant was full of kids. Who the hell knows how many civilians are in the crab plant. If you go in all John Wayne then you could get a lot of innocent people killed.”
“And the third reason?”
“Because that plant belongs to Echo Team and I don’t want anyone else jumping our action. Look, you hired us on to be your first team. Well, you got what you paid for. I know you had to be here watching the feeds from the helmet cams. So you know what we went through in there, and you know how tight my guys are. Alpha Team may be DMS elite or some shit but they were a half-step off getting to first base. They should have been in there faster. I shouldn’t have had to call them once things got hot.”
“Grace Courtland and Gus Dietrich are superb agents. As good as anyone on Echo Team,” Church said. “At one point all of them were, but since St. Michael’s they’ve been showing signs of stress disorder. In the last two days their team drills are down by fourteen percent and their live ammunition drills show hesitation. None of that was there before St. Michael’s.”
Now I understood. I put my cup down and leaned my elbows on his desk. “So we understand each other here?”
“If what you saw in Delaware has taught us anything it’s that we are losing ground on this thing. I want the crab plant hit tonight. Now.”
“No way. My team needs to rest. You talk about reduction in combat efficiency, well, you put a top team into a critical situation without time to rest then you don’t have a top team anymore. You have tired men who will be off their game. Going right back out would get them killed. Twelve hours to sleep and plan the hit.”
“Two hours’ sleep and they debrief in the helo.”
After a minute, I said, “I see the science team. Then we go in three hours. That’s not negotiable. I won’t lead my team to a slaughter. I’ll go in alone before I do that.”
For a moment it looked like he was considering that as a suggestion. Then he nodded.
“Okay.” He took a vanilla wafer and gestured to the plate. “Have one.”
I had an Oreo. “Do you want reconnaissance or scorched-earth?”
“My science division needs data. Computers, lab equipment, pathogen samples we need to leave the place intact.”
“What kind of backup can we expect?”
“The works. Alpha Team will be on deck and they’ll be first in if you need them; F-18s in the air, helo support for extraction if it gets hot. Special Forces strike teams can be inside in ten minutes; and the National Guard is on standby. If it turns into a firefight we have the edge. If the perimeter is breached we’ll take a closer look at the scorched-earth option.”
He didn’t have to explain that if there was a containment breach and my team was inside then we’d be flash- fried along with the hostiles. And even though that’s what I would order myself it didn’t make me feel any better about it.
“What’s going on with the prisoner? I thought you’d be interrogating him by now.”
“That would be nice,” he agreed, “but he has two bullets in his chest cavity. He’s in surgery. They’ll page me the moment he’s stabilized enough to answer questions.”
“And what if the control disease kicks in before then?”
“Then there will be that much more pressure on you to bring me another prisoner when you hit the crab plant.”
“Swell.” I finished my coffee. “Okay, take me to your mad scientists.”
Chapter Forty-Six
The DMS Warehouse, Baltimore / Tuesday, June 30; 9:20 P.M.
AS HE LED me to the labs, Church said. “Dr. Sanchez has agreed, conditionally, to help us through the current crisis.”
“What are his conditions?”
“He’ll be here as long as you are. Apparently he thinks you need a minder.” He appeared amused. “Major Courtland is bringing him up to speed on everything.”
“Rudy’s not a fighter.”
“We all serve according to our nature, Captain. Besides, your friend may be tougher than you know.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t tough. I just don’t want to see you put a gun in his hand.”
“Noted.”
We entered a huge loading dock that had been newly enclosed by cinderblock, and the smell of limestone and concrete hung thick in the damp air. There was a row of oversized trailer homes of the kind used as temporary offices on construction sites. As we passed each, Church threw out a single identifying word. Cryptography. Surveillance. Operations. Computers.
We passed one whose door was marked with a TWELVE in black block letters, and Church made no comment about this one. There were four armed guards outside, two facing out, two facing the unit’s only door, and a tripod-mounted.50 stood behind a half-circle of sandbags, its wicked black mouth pointing at the trailer door. I slowed for a moment, frowning, feeling the tension that was screaming in the air, and I felt a chill like an icy hand close around the back of my neck.
“Damn,” I breathed. “You have more of them in there?”
“Among other things, yes,” he said softly. “It’s also our surgical suite, and that’s where our prisoner is. But to answer your question, we have a total of six.”
“Like Javad?”
Church’s face seemed to harden as he said, “The six walkers were all from St. Michael’s. One doctor, three civilians, two DMS agents.”
“My God!”
“This evening I’m having three of them sent to our Brooklyn facility for study. The others will remain here.”
“For study? But you’re talking about your own people.”
“They’re dead, Captain.”
“Church, I-”
“They’re dead.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Hotel Ishtar, Baghdad / June 30
“WHO WAS ON the phone?” Gault asked as he came out of the bathroom, a plush crimson robe cinched around him. “Was it Amirah?”
Toys handed him a cup of coffee on a china saucer. “No, it was the Yank again.”
“What did he want? No-let me guess. The Americans finally raided the crab plant? Bloody well time, too-”
“No,” said Toys. “It seems they’ve raided the other facility. The one in Delaware. The meatpacking plant.” He overpronounced the word “meatpacking,” enjoying the implications of each syllable.
Gault gave a bemused grunt and sipped his coffee. “That’s unfortunate.” He sat and chewed his lip for a few seconds. “What about the other plant? They were supposed to locate and infiltrate that first.”
Toys sniffed. “Leave it to the U.S. government to always do the right thing at the wrong time. What’s that phrase you like so much?”
“ ‘Bass ackwards.’ ”
