Lisa shoved past Malcolm and hurried up to him. She was covered in blood. His heart hammered, but she seemed uninjured. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fast hug. He felt the shudder of her relief, matched by his own then they parted, professional again.
What happened? he asked.
Kat related in terse, dispassionate thumbnails, finishing with, We're attempting to evacuate.
You'll never make it out with Sasha, he said. All the exits are surely covered.
Then what do we do? Lisa asked.
Painter checked his watch. Well, by escaping on your own, you've already made my life easier. He pointed back down. Take Sasha to the gym locker room.
Secure her in there. All of you.
What about you? Kat asked.
He kissed Lisa on the cheek, turned toward the door, and headed out. I've got one last thing to do then I'll join you.
Be careful, Lisa said.
Kat called back to him. Director! Monk's still alive!
Painter halted, glanced behind him, but the stairwell door slammed shut. What?
He had no time to inquire what she had meant. It would have to wait. He sprinted back down the hall and returned to where he had started, back to the communication nest. Slowing, he tested the air. A sweetness permeated the space, as it should all of central command.
It was the first stage of the fail-safe program: feeding a gaseous accelerant into the air. It took a minimum of fifteen minutes to reach critical levels. And while it was safe to breathe for at least a couple of hours, they didn't have that long. In another ten minutes, the fail-safe would ignite sparks throughout the base and trigger a firestorm across all levels of central command. The flash fire would last only a few seconds, fed by the accelerant in the air, searing every surface within the concrete bunker. Then sprinklers would kick in, dousing the flames immediately.
Inside the communication nest, Painter checked the row of monitors, receiving video feed from cameras on every level.
He stalked along them until he found the one he was looking for. It showed
Mapplethorpe standing beside Sean McKnight. He held a pistol to Sean's back.
Behind them, commandos began disappearing down an open stairwell door.
Painter tapped on the audio from the camera.
madness, Sean said. You can't circumvent channels like this. Do you think you can perform an unsanctioned assault upon another agency, then try to clean it up afterward?
I've done it before, Mapplethorpe growled. It's all a matter of producing the results to match the offense.
In other words, the ends justify the means, Sean scoffed. You'll never get away with it. Two people are dead.
Is that all? Like I said, I've done this many times before. Abroad and here.
Painter cut into the conversation. He spoke into a microphone that broadcast through speakers on that floor. Mapplethorpe!
The man jolted, but he kept his pistol steady. He searched around, then found the camera on the wall. He regained his composure, his lips settling into a sneer of derision. Ah, Director, so you haven't evacuated with the rest of your people. Very good. Then let us end this quickly. Bring up the girl, and no one else needs to get hurt.
Painter spoke into the microphone. We've already taken out your man,
Mapplethorpe, and hidden the girl where you won't find her.
Is that so? Mapplethorpe sniffed a bit at the air. I see you've activated
Sigma's fail-safe program.
Painter felt a chill. The man had obtained more than just their base schematics; he'd tapped deep into their protocols. Sean had warned him about Mapplethorpe.
The bastard had his fingers everywhere, a black spider dancing in the intelligence web. His oily and bland demeanor hid a much more dangerous core.
And I believe you've set the timer for zero one hundred, Mapplethorpe said, confirming the depths of his intel. We've been unable to decrypt the code to stop it, but something tells me we won't have to. Not with my holding twenty hostages above. Twenty of your men and women. With families and lives beyond these walls. I don't think you've got the brass balls to let them die, to be slain by your own hand. Whereas I
Mapplethorpe lifted his gun to the back of Sean's head.
have no such qualms.
The man fired. The pistol blast overloaded the speakers, turning into a digital pop and squawk. Sean fell to his knees, then to the floor.
Painter's chest tightened, unable to take a breath. Disbelief rang through him.
A part of him expected Sean to stand back up, to shake off the attack. But just as quickly, a flame as hot as the coming firestorm burned through Painter.
Stunned at the man's brutality and callousness, Painter could form no words.
Unlike his adversary.
Mapplethorpe's voice returned. We're coming for that girl, Director. And no one is going to stop us.
18
September 7, 10:38 A. M.
Pripyat, Ukraine
Gray secured the black belt over the Russian field jacket, camouflaged in forest green. He stamped his feet more securely into the boots. Kowalski tossed him a furred cap. The stolen uniform fit decently, but his partner's outfit looked ready to burst at the seams. The two Russian soldiers, stripped to their underclothes, had been posted at the front of the jailhouse. Caught by surprise, it had not been hard to knock them out and secure the uniforms.
Let's go, Gray said and headed to a motorcycle.
Shotgun, Kowalski called out.
Gray glanced over, realizing the man was not talking about a weapon. They both had AN-94 Russian assault rifles.
Kowalski eyed the sidecar to the IMZ-Ural motorcycle. Always wanted to ride in one of these, he said and climbed into the open car.
Gray shifted the rifle over a shoulder and hiked a leg over the seat.
Moments later, engine growling, they shot through the old prison gates and out into the weed-strewn streets of Pripyat. Gray checked his wristwatch.
Twenty minutes.
Leaning lower, he throttled up, goosed the gas, and sped through the faded, rusted city. The asphalt was broken, and shattered glass threatened the tires.
Around every corner, they met unexpected obstacles: abandoned rusted skeletons of automobiles, moss- covered old furniture, and even a strangely surreal stack of band instruments.
Despite the hazards, Gray raced at breakneck speeds, taking corners hard enough to lift the sidecar off its tire. Kowalski whooped a bit at these turns. They passed the occasional soldier patrolling the streets, who lifted a rifle or arm in greeting as they raced past; at other times, Gray spotted a flash of a haunted face peering through a broken window, one of the stray scavengers of the city.
Reaching the outskirts of Pripyat, Gray sped toward the horizon as a trio of deer sprang away from the roar of the cycle. He aimed for the towering ventilation stack of the reactor. Even over the roar of the cycle, he heard snatches of amplified voices rolling out from the grandstands. According to
Masterson, Senator Nicolas Solokov was planning some attack on those gathered here to observe the sealing of the Chernobyl reactor.
