She dropped the endoscope, turned toward the door, then back again. “What about the patient?” Her eyes flicked in the direction of Amanda.
“Not important.” The voice on the phone had all but admitted it. The young woman could be replaced-but not the child. “We have all of her tissue and blood samples. That should be enough. I’ll grab those. You see to the child.”
Still, Edward hated to leave matters unsettled. He picked up a scalpel, stared at his hand, then placed the instrument gently back down. He couldn’t muster the strength to do it himself, not by his own hand.
He turned back to the workstation and activated the laser-aligned trajectory preset into the machine. The robotic arm began its slow descent, the drill whining into a fierce whirr. The burr’s path into the cerebral cortex was already plotted-only now no one would be here to
Like a slow bullet through the skull.
With everything in order, Edward abandoned his workstation and rushed for the door. A final glance behind him showed the tip of the drill burr piercing the small blue X marked on Amanda’s skull. A drop of blood welled and rolled down her scalp, like a crimson tear.
3:40 A.M .
Gray fled through a hellish landscape of black smoke and fiery molten metal, made even worse by the horde of metallic hunters, scrabbling toward him, racing atop legs as sharp as daggers.
Kowalski crushed one of the hunters under his boot. The legs splayed out like a squashed spider-then reversed themselves, swinging up and latching onto Kowalski’s boot. The legs began sawing through the leather.
Seichan went to his aid, cutting free his bootlaces in a single thrust of her throwing dagger. She pointed to the wall.
Kowalski kicked his leg, sending his footwear and the clinging spider flying.
Gray held others off with his pistol, knocking them back with each shot. Together, they retreated through the molten remains of the door, creating a fiery choke point against the hunters.
Kowalski tried to bring his rifle to bear, hopping on one bloody foot, but Gray pointed down the hall. “Go after Tucker. We’ll hold them off here.”
Kowalski didn’t have to be told twice, mumbling, “Hate friggin’ spiders…”
Seichan popped off a couple of shots with her SIG Sauer. “Must be some sort of automated defense system.”
He agreed. He had expected the base to have built-in countermeasures-but never this. He knew DARPA was working on research projects along these lines, an experimental program to develop
Likely the countermeasures here at the base were meant to hunt, distract, and stall the enemy until a security team could mobilize. Still, the automatons by themselves were deadly enough, and bullets hardly slowed them down.
“Here they come,” Seichan warned.
A wave of razor-edged steel came crashing toward them.
3:44 A.M.
Tucker tore down the hallway, chasing after Kane’s tail. He strained for the sound of any threat, eyes unblinking, breath shallow. But he didn’t have to rely on his senses alone.
A growl reached his ears, a warning.
A man in a white lab coat stepped into the hallway ahead, raising an arm.
Tucker shot him in the face.
As he rushed past the man, he saw his hands were empty. A twinge of guilt flickered-but it quickly died. The two other people he’d already shot
Besides, after all he’d seen in the past minute, no one down here deserved to take another breath. He’d passed lab after lab, saw things he wished he could
Who the hell does something like that?
And why?
Kane continued his headlong rush, his nose sniffing at corners or in the air. He had found Amanda’s scent.
Finally, Kane skidded to a stop, sliding a couple of feet, then returning to a closed door. Tucker met his partner there. A tiny window revealed a long washbasin, a wall of sterilized green packs, and packets of cellophane-sealed scrub brushes.
A surgical prep room.
Amanda’s trail led here.
That earlier chill spread up his spine.
Holding his pistol at the ready, he shouldered through the door and scanned the space for any hostiles. Empty. But a wide window looked into a neighboring surgical suite. A woman lay sprawled and draped atop a stainless- steel table, her upper body locked into some device. A robotic arm vibrated above her shaved head.
He had studied the photo of the president’s daughter well enough to recognize her from her features alone. Kane pawed at the door into the operating theater. He knew the truth, too.
Tucker hurried into the surgical room, finding the place otherwise deserted. A whirring buzz drew his attention back to Amanda. He stepped to her side, aghast as he recognized the source of the noise.
Blood flowed in a thick rivulet from a drill bit burrowing into her skull. He dashed around the table, unsure what to do. Kane danced at his side, reading his anxiety but not knowing how to help.
“It’s okay, buddy,” he assured his friend.
But it was
Tucker followed the electrical cord from the robotic arm to a workstation. Not knowing what else to do, he yanked out the wall plug. The whining drone died away.
Tucker studied Amanda, watching her chest rise and fall.
He studied the length of steel still embedded in her head. He had to free her, but how? He dared not yank that drill free or risk more damage to her skull.
He searched around and saw what looked like a miniature set of bolt cutters-surgical pin cutters. He grabbed them up, positioned them along the shaft of the burr, about an inch from Amanda’s skull, and pinched the cutters closed. A loud snap, and she was free of the robotic arm.
Next, Tucker set about detaching her from the cushioned head clamp and unhooking her from the anesthetic machine.
Focused on the task, he was startled to hear a voice ask, “What’s that sticking out of her head?”
He swung around. Kowalski limped toward him on a bloody foot.
“How did you find me?” Tucker asked.
“Followed the trail of dead bodies. Then saw him in the hall.”
Kane panted at the doorway, guarding Tucker’s back, as usual, making sure no hostiles crept up on him.
Kowalski again pointed to Amanda’s skull. “What is that?”
“A drill bit.”
“What? Why-?”
