Pandemic Page 140

Clarence squirmed in his chair. “Why come in from the water and cross all that territory on foot? Why not take a Seahawk and drop in right on the hotel? I’ve moved through a half mile of urban terrain while under fire — it’s risky, we’ll lose people.”

Klimas touched icons on the screen, zoomed the view in to a forty-five-degree angle that showed towering buildings. Margaret instantly saw the problem with Clarence’s plan.

“Skysc.r.a.pers make for a lot of places the enemy can hide,” Klimas said. “If the enemy is armed with something big enough, they can hit the Seahawk on the way in or on the way out. Lake Sh.o.r.e Park is a more secure place to land. Trust me, Agent Otto, SEALs and Rangers can get to that hotel in a hurry.”

Margaret had seen those SEALs in action. Brave, smart, deadly, they moved without hesitation. She didn’t know what type of resistance her kind would put up. Were the Converted in Chicago unified at all? Reports had come in from cities all over the world about organized bands, some the size of small armies, but there had been no such sightings in Chicago. As far as anyone knew, the city was in total chaos. If that were true, the SEALs might very well walk in, grab Cooper Mitch.e.l.l and walk out.

She couldn’t let them succeed. She needed to make sure Mitch.e.l.l died. And while she was at it, she had an opportunity to eliminate another major threat: Tim Feely.

He was the brain behind the inoculation effort. If not for his work, her kind might already have taken over. Feely was too smart, too creative, and had too much knowledge of her former research. This trip would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of him.

Margaret stood. “I have to go with you. So does Tim.”

Tim sat straight upright, looked at Margaret as if she was pointing a gun at his head.

Clarence stared at her in disbelief. “This is a high-risk operation. We can’t be ferrying civilians.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, what he said. Oh, and also? Like f.u.c.k I have to go with you. Why would you and I go in, anyway? The SEALs grab this guy, bring him out, we draw the hydras from his blood, replicate them, and boom — we win.”

“There are environmental factors to consider,” Margaret said. “Mitch.e.l.l’s video indicates that the infected are dying, but we don’t know that he’s responsible for that. The sickness could be caused by something in that building’s water supply, or in the air. If we bring Mitch.e.l.l out only to discover that he’s not the vector, we’ll have wasted time and risked lives for nothing.”

The three men in the tiny room looked at one another. Klimas didn’t seem surprised; he was ready to back almost anything she asked for. Clarence, however, wasn’t buying it.

“We can’t risk you,” he said. “We’ll keep you in constant visual communication. The SEALs get Mitch.e.l.l, they get samples from the dead bodies in the video, from the water and air, whatever else you want. Then they get the h.e.l.l out.”

She slapped the table. “Don’t be stupid, Clarence. There’s no guarantee Mitch.e.l.l will be there. If he’s not, we’re left with those bodies. If the cause of death is something other than the hydra strain, tissue samples collected by untrained soldiers might not show us what did the damage. We need to examine the bodies where they died.”

Clarence shook his head. He looked like he was losing control. “There’s no way I’m letting a pregnant woman go on this mission.”

Klimas and Tim stared at her. Their expressions changed instantly — with one word, she was suddenly fragile, a thing to be protected. Her strategy to hook Clarence had backfired.

She couldn’t let him win.

“My body,” she said quietly. “My choice.”

Clarence crossed his arms. “Our child.”

Margaret gathered herself, tried to remember what her weak, altruistic former self might have said. She concentrated hard, held her eyes open until they started to sting … she forced out a single tear.

“Wake up, my love. This isn’t some men’s rights debate. If this mission doesn’t give us a weapon, we’ll all be dead long before I could give birth. Don’t you get it? This is the end of the world.”

Klimas nodded. “She’s right. This is for all the marbles. We need her expertise. If she wants in, she’s in. Margo, how much time would you need on-site?”

Good question. If they found Mitch.e.l.l, she needed enough time to kill him while not drawing attention to herself or exposing herself to his disease. She also needed enough time to kill Tim and not get caught doing it. She was willing to sacrifice herself to murder the president, but not to take out Tim Feely.

“At least overnight,” she said. “Once we locate Mitch.e.l.l, we test what we can while he’s still in the same environment. We have to be sure.”

Klimas’s jaw muscles twitched. “Then we’re no longer looking at a grab-and-go. We have to change the entire operation.”

She nodded solemnly. “Then change it, Paulius. Whatever it takes.”

Clarence stood. His body vibrated with anger.

“Klimas, are you kidding me? You think you’ll last overnight in that place? As far as we know there’s a hundred thousand Converted in the downtown area alone!”

Three quick knocks at the door, then it opened. The little SEAL with the horrible mustache peeked in.

“Commander, we’re approaching the disembarkation point.”

“Understood,” Klimas said. He faced Clarence. “My decision is made. Margaret is coming.”