The Ark: A Novel (37 page)

About four inches from the door, Locke placed an updated version of a claymore mine. On the side facing the door were the words, "Front toward enemy." The explosive was directional, meaning friendlies could stand behind it and receive minimal injuries while those in front of it would be shredded by the blast. Locke set a striker in front of the mine. Now if the door opened, it would hit the striker, and anyone standing within 20 feet of the door would become "non-operational," as the Army liked to put it.

Locke finished placing the striker and stood. "Now that the itch in my back is scratched," he said, "let's find the lab."

The exam room seemed like any other Dilara had visited in her life. She rummaged through the drawers and cabinets looking for something that she could take with her for protection. They wouldn't keep scalpels in here, but she was hoping to find something sharp, pointy, or heavy. She found plenty of tongue depressors, gauze, cotton balls, and towels, but the only thing sharp was the hypodermic that had been used on her.

Without a weapon, she was defenseless. The guards were much tougher than the doctor and would take her down in a second. Still, she couldn't just wait for someone to rescue her. Better to be proactive and go down fighting.

Her best option was to head for the stairs and try to make an escape while their attention was focused on whoever had invaded the facility. Once she was above ground, she could make contact with the invaders.

Dilara's heart was pounding as she inched the door open to see if anyone was in the hall. If she just popped out, her escape might be over before it began. She peered through the slit.

No one in that direction. She opened the door wider until she could see the "315 on it and looked the other way. Clear. She made a motion to leave and then heard a man talking. Coming this way, but down a hall she couldn't see. He paused while he spoke, as if he were talking on a phone. One set of footsteps. He was alone.

She recognized the voice. It was the guard who'd just left.

"I'll be down there with her in a minute," he said.

He was coming for her.

Dilara slid the door closed quietly. She only had a few seconds. The guard would need to open the door fully before he saw the doctor on the floor. That might give her a second of surprise.

She grabbed the hypodermic and stuck the needle into the same vial she had seen the doctor use. She drew five times the amount used on her. Then she crouched behind the door, which opened inward.

She held the syringe with one hand and placed her other palm over the plunger. The footsteps outside approached the door. No hesitation in them. The guard expected to see Dilara still lying on the table. It might take him a second to register what happened, and in that time, she needed to act.

The door swung open, and the guard walked in, stopping even with her when he saw the doctor on the floor. Dilara lunged out from behind the door and thrust the needle into the guard's thigh up to the plastic and at the same time shoved the plunger down hard. The clear liquid surged into his leg before he could move.

The guard yelped and pulled his leg back. Dilara still gripped the syringe as the needle withdrew, and she held it like a switchblade.

"You bitch!" the guard shouted and rushed her. The muscular guard knocked the syringe out of her hand and picked her up by the shoulders.

Even though the drug went into muscle, Dilara hoped the high dose would have the same effect as it had on her. She had started silently counting the moment she had injected him.

At the count of six, the guard shoved her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She doubled over, gasping for air.

"Stay there!" the guarded shouted. All she could do was count.

At the count of eight, he raised the radio to his lips.

At the count of nine, his eyes rolled back in his head.

At the count of ten, he hit the floor.

The guard was barely conscious, but he was out of it. He moaned softly and babbled something Dilara couldn't make out. She sucked in a breath and finally stood straight.

She kicked at the guard's arm, but it was limp, so she was easily able to take his submachine gun. She also relieved him of his spare magazines.

She examined the gun. Heckler & Koch MP-5. She'd fired one once during her training. Nice, light weapon. Just what she needed.

She stuffed his Sig Sauer pistol into her waistband and went in search of the stairs.

* * *

At the second level, Locke repeated the precautions he'd taken on the first level. They disabled each camera and then placed a claymore against the door. With the cameras out, whoever came through first would have no idea how unhappy he was going to be for the 30 milliseconds he had to live.

Grant broke the third level camera, and Locke knelt near the door. He placed the mine and was about to set the striker when he heard footsteps squeak lightly on the tile in the hallway beyond the door. Someone was coming.

Locke hadn't finished setting up the claymore, so he shoved the mine and striker aside and backed away on the landing, aiming his gun at the door. Grant and Turner were on the stairs below him, the weapons trained on the door. It opened, and when Locke saw the face peer through, he eased up on the trigger.

"Hold your fire!" he yelled.

It was Dilara, and she was armed to the teeth.

"Tyler!" she said. "You're alive!" She threw herself into his arms, and Locke hugged her tightly. After a few seconds, he let her go and gave a sheepish grin to Turner, who looked nonplussed.

"Are you okay?" Locke said to Dilara.

"Garrett drugged me, but I'll be all right." Her voice was a little thick, as if she were eating sticky peanut butter.

Locke pointed to the MP-5 she was carrying. "You sure you're up to handling that right now?"

"When I came through that door, I almost shot you."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"They said you were dead."

"Good. That's what I wanted them to think."

"We have to stop them," Dilara said. "They're planning to release some kind of prion in New York, LA, and London. They're shipping the stuff out tonight."

"That's why we're here. And we've got about twenty minutes to find it."

"Why twenty minutes?"

He told her about the bomber circling overhead.

"Is it just the three of you?"

Locke nodded. "The rest of our team is locked out on the surface. We've lost communications with them."

"Then what do we do?"

"After we secure the prions, we have to figure out a way to get into their control room."

"Maybe a guard would be able to give us a way in," Dilara said.

"Even if we find one," Locke said, "these guys aren't the talkative types. It would take too long to get anything out of them."

"I know one who might talk."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I just pumped him full of truth serum."

Sebastian Garrett watched his scientists load the last of the Arkon-C into the dispersion devices. In a few minutes, they would be ready for deployment. The assault had been a great inconvenience, but nothing more than that if he could get these scientists finished.

"Hurry up," he said into the microphone. "This is taking too long."

The transfer of the Arkon-C was taking place, as it always did, inside the chamber he'd used only a few days ago to make his point about traitors. All of the Arkon that existed in the world, except the one sample still on Noah's Ark, was in that chamber. And once the transfer was complete, he would destroy the surplus.

The computer files had already been destroyed. He kept the only remaining copy of the files in a USB drive in his pocket. It held all of the plans for modifying Arkon-A, the raw form on Noah's Ark, into Arkon-C. He didn't want to take the one-in-a-million chance that the government would get their hands on the process and engineer some kind of antidote.

The men inside the closed chamber were wearing biohazard suits, just in case containment was compromised during the job. The other labs had already been sterilized with salt water, a process that took longer than using heat, but was just as effective. It was the reason Noah had been able to eventually emerge from the Ark and repopulate the world, the Arkon having been destroyed after it wiped out the animals and flowed into the salty seas.

In the observation room were the three men who would deliver the devices. Each of them assumed they would come back to Oasis once their jobs were complete, but there was a slight risk that they'd be infected during their missions. When they returned, they would get as far as the entranceway and be terminated there by guards waiting in hazmat suits. Garrett regretted losing believers, but it was necessary to ensure the safety of Oasis.

The only other people in the observation room with Garrett were the chamber operator and Svetlana Petrova. Dilara Kenner should have been here by now.

He spoke into his radio.

"Cutter, where is Dilara Kenner? I can't bargain with somebody I don't have. He'll want to hear her voice."

"She got away, sir," Cutter said.

Garrett's hand clenched on the walkie-talkie. "What? How?"

"I don't know. But we just saw her run into the third level stairwell, right about where Locke should be."

"So they're together now?"

"I don't know. The stairwell camera is out at that level."

"Well then, what
do
you know?"

"None of the hallway cameras has picked them up, which means they're all in the stairwell, and we're about to start our attack."

"Fine, then. I obviously don't need Dr. Kenner any more. Kill them all."

* * *

Cutter watched the camera on level four. It was still intact and didn't show any movement, which meant that Locke and the others must still be at the third level landing.

Perfect.

Cutter planned a three-pronged attack. Four men would come up the east stairwell below them and serve as the decoy. Another four men, who must have just missed Kenner running into the stairwell, were stationed halfway down the third level corridor, ready to ambush Locke when he came out the door. They would remain hidden until Cutter signaled that Locke and his companions had entered the range of the third level hallway cameras. Then his men would pop out and mow them down.

Cutter's confidence in the plan came from the third prong. Once the attack had started below, the last four men, who had used the west stairwell to get up to the first level, would move into the east stairwell from above and close in a pincer movement. If they could sneak up on Locke, they could end it right there, but if not, Locke would be driven right into the ambush in the hallway.

Cutter wanted to be leading the battle himself, especially because he had seen Grant Westfield with them, but he could help the team best by directing the attack from the control room. At least he'd get to watch Westfield die on his monitor.

"Teams check in," he said.

"Team One ready." The bottom level team.

"Team Two ready." The team on level one.

"Team Three ready." The ambushers in the hallway on level three.

"Teams two and three, wait for my signal. Team One, go."

Team One burst through the seventh level door and charged up the stairs. By now, Locke and his group would hear the footsteps below and be aiming for them, focusing their attention away from the upper levels. Team One's directive was to start firing before they got to the third level, both as a distraction and to cover the sound of Team Two coming down from the first level. It might even drive Locke upstairs into the arms of Team Two.

He heard Team One begin firing. He didn't hear any return fire. Locke must be figuring out what to do. Now was the time.

"Team Two go!"

Cutter saw the Team Two leader in the hallway of level one kick the door open.

The door exploded.

The two men who were right in front of the door were blown to pieces. The other two men, who had been covering them, went down holding their faces. Cutter gritted his teeth. The door had been booby-trapped.

Cutter called for Team One to pull back. Too late.

He heard an explosion before the Team One leader could respond.

"Team One leader is gone!" Cutter heard from another man. "They're dropping grenades down the stairs!"

Cutter was losing his men fast. "Team One, get out now! Use the closest door! Team Three, hold position and wait for my command." Maybe Locke would still come out through the third level door, and he could salvage this debacle.

He waited and saw nothing from the third level hallway camera. Thirty seconds passed. Nothing.

"Switch to the level two hallway camera," he said.

The monitor showed Dilara Kenner behind Locke and another soldier holding Grant Westfield up to the camera. All looked uninjured. Westfield's face took up almost the whole image. His arms were extended past the camera behind it. Why didn't he just break it? What was he...

Dammit!

"Shut down that camera!" Cutter yelled. "Hurry!"

The operator wasn't fast enough. With a flash, all of the video feeds blinked out.

When the attack had started, Turner had ordered them to retreat into the third level hallway. Locke had been about to open the door, but Grant stopped him. His history with Cutter made him think that's exactly what Cutter wanted. He also predicted the attack from above. Grant's instinct was good enough for Locke. When they heard the explosion from the first level, confirming Grant's suspicions, Turner agreed. They dropped a couple of grenades down the stairs and did what Cutter wouldn't expect. They went up.

Grant saw the remains of the camera on the level two landing and told Locke he had a way to take out the cameras, which were becoming a real nuisance. Even if they shut down each camera as they went, doing so would eat into time they didn't have, and Cutter could track them by the sequence of outages. Locke wasn't an electrical engineer, so he had overlooked something that grabbed Grant's attention.

The cameras were all on the same circuit and weren't shielded. If Grant could find a high voltage wire and tie it directly into a camera's video feed, he could overload the whole system.