The Atlantis Plague Part 20

To Kate's relief, they pa.s.sed the checkpoint with ease and fell into the throngs of people climbing the ramp. At the top, they exited into a corridor that was closed on both sides, but open to the moonlight above. It felt like a cattle stall at a state fair or a rodeo. They weaved endlessly, toward the center of the s.h.i.+p, Shaw leading the way. Twice they had to stop to let Martin catch his breath, standing against the wall as the flow of people snaked around them and filled the hallway beyond. There were doors that led to square compartments along the hallway, and people filled each room as they went.

"We need to get below, to a cabin. The topside compartments will get toasty by morning, like an oven." He motioned to Martin. "He won't fare well."

At the end of the hall, they descended the stairwell several flights, then worked their way through another set of corridors until they found an empty room. "Stay here, be quiet, and keep the door shut. I'll knock in three sets of three when I return," Shaw said.

"Where are you going?"

"For supplies," he said and pulled the door shut before Kate could reply. She slid the latch, locking the door.

The compartment was completely dark. Kate felt around for a switch but found none. She took the light bar from the backpack and bathed the small s.p.a.ce in light. Martin lay against the wall, panting. Kate helped him into the bottom of one of the bunks. This was clearly one of the crew quarters: two bunkbeds and a small closet in the center of the room.

She took the satellite phone out and checked the display. No Service. She needed to go topside to finish her phone call. She needed answers. Her talk with Martin had been less than helpful. The genetic turning points. The answers... dead and buried. What did it mean?

Kate was utterly exhausted. She stretched out on the bunk opposite Martin. She would close her eyes and rest, just for a moment, just to help her think.

Periodically, she heard Martin cough. She didn't know how much time pa.s.sed, but she thought she felt the ma.s.sive s.h.i.+p move. Sleep took her sometime later.

Kate was barefoot and her feet barely made a sound on the marble floor. Ahead of her, the arched wooden door stood at the end of the long hall. On her right, the same two doors loomed. The first was open: the door where she had seen David. She peered in. Empty. She walked to the second door on the right and pushed it open. The circular room was bathed with light from windows that had been swung open and gla.s.s doors that opened onto a terrace. A blue sea spread out below, but there were no boats, just a peninsula of tree-covered mountains and water beyond, as far as she could see.

The room was spa.r.s.e, save for a steel and oak-topped drafting table. David sat behind it, on an old iron stool.

"What are you drawing?" Kate asked.

"A plan," he answered without looking up.

"For what?"

"Taking a city. Saving lives." He held up an elaborate drawing of a horse made of wood.

"You can take over a city with a wooden horse?"

David set the drawing down and continued working on it. "Happened before..."

Kate smiled. "Yeah, right."

"Happened in Troy."

"Oh yeah. I thought Brad Pitt was great in that."

He shook his head. He erased a few lines on the drawing. "Like other epic tales, they thought it was just a story until they found scientific evidence of its existence." He made a few last strokes with his pencil, sat back, and scrutinized the drawing. "I'm mad at you, by the way."

"Me?"

"You left me. In Gibraltar. You didn't trust me. I could have saved you."

"I didn't have a choice. You were injured-"

"You should have trusted me. You underestimated me."

CHAPTER 49.

Immari Operations Base at Ceuta

Northern Morocco

Major Rukin poured himself a tall gla.s.s of whiskey, drank it down, and collapsed into a chair at the round table just beyond his bed. Slowly, he unb.u.t.toned his tunic, and when it fell free, he poured himself another drink, just as high as the last. It had been a long day, but hopefully it would be his last dealing with those wretched barbarian tribesmen beyond the walls. Good riddance. Killing them all was ideal; killing a few and capturing the rest, just as good. The base was always woefully short of servant staff. And for that matter... where was she? It had been a very long, very stressful day.

He peeled his sweat-soaked tunic off and s.h.i.+mmied his arms out, letting the tunic fall back to wrap around the chair. He poured a third drink with less care this time, splas.h.i.+ng brown liquid onto the table, drank it down, and bent to untie his boots. His feet throbbed, but the sensation had faded as the drinks had taken effect.

A loud knock echoed from the door.

"What?"

"It's Kamau."

"Come."

Kamau swung the door open, but he didn't enter. Beside him stood a tall slender woman Rukin hadn't seen before. Good. A new girl. Kamau had done well-the woman was older than Rukin's typical taste, but he was in the mood for something different. Variety was the spice of life. There was something else about her. Her posture. The eyes-strength, not quite defiance. Confidence. No fear. She will learn.

Rukin stood. "She'll do."

Kamau nodded slightly, pushed the girl at her lower back to usher her in, and closed the door with a click.

The woman stared at the major, not bothering to take in his vast chamber.

"You speak English?"

She furled her brow and shook her head slightly.

"No, your lot never does, do they? No matter. We'll do this caveman style." He held a hand up, indicating for her to stay, then stepped behind her, pulled the garment off her shoulders, and untied it at her waist. Christmas comes every day here, he thought, musing at his double entendre.

The garment dropped silently to the floor and he spun her around to inspect- She was nothing like he expected. She was muscular. Too muscular, and her legs and lower torso were dotted with scars-knife wounds, some bullet wounds, others... arrows maybe? Unacceptable. He didn't want reminders of combat here. He shook his head, and paced to the table, making for his radio. Back to the stables with her.

He felt a strong hand on his arm, and he looked back in shock. Her eyes met his. Feisty. Her confidence had turned to fire. Did she know he had rejected her? Rukin turned, rea.s.sessing her now.

As a smile spread across his face, her other arm flew to him, and her fist crashed into his gut, just below his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him instantly. He fell to his knees and gasped. As he sucked desperately, she kicked his left side, just below his ribcage, rolling him over and sending waves of whiskey up his throat and out his nose and mouth. He gagged and gasped as the liquor burned with each desperate cough. He was drowning in fire. His abs burned and ached from the impacts and his violent heaving.

She stepped around him carefully, deliberately, never taking her eyes off him. A small smile played at the ends of her mouth and her eyes narrowed.

She's enjoying this. She's going to watch me die, Rukin thought. He turned over and crawled to the door. If he could get his breath back, he could cry out. Maybe if he reached the door- Her foot came down hard on his back, slamming him into the hard floor, breaking his nose. He almost lost consciousness.

He felt her hands wrap around his wrists and pull his arms back, her foot still planted in the center of his back. She was ripping him in half. He wanted to scream, but no sound came from his lungs, only an animalistic grunt. His right shoulder snapped and the wave of pain hit him like a slap, almost taking him under. He would have pa.s.sed out, but the liquor had numbed some of the pain, keeping him conscious. His left shoulder snapped, and the woman pulled both arms back unnaturally.

Rukin heard her pace away from him, and he hoped she was going for the gun. Death would be welcome. But he heard the rip of tape instead. She wrapped his wrists together behind him. Every touch sent a new shock of pain.

He almost had his breath back now and he pushed, trying to call, but she brought the tape to his mouth and covered it, winding the roll around his head several times. She tied his legs from his ankles to his knees, then lifted him and practically threw him against the wall, face out. Pain then hyperventilation came as he tried to breathe through his nose and endure the waves of pain that came from his shoulders pressing against the wall.

She stared at him for a moment, then casually strode to the table. Her naked, muscled body flexed only slightly with each leisurely step. She looked at the liquor bottle, then took the handgun from Rukin's belt.

Do it, he thought.

She ejected the magazine, then pulled the slide back. No round ejected. Rukin never chambered his first round. She inserted the magazine again and chambered a round.

Do it.

She set the gun on the table, crossed her legs, and gazed at him.

Rukin screamed through the tape at his mouth, but she ignored him.

She grabbed the radio, twisted the dial on top to change the channel, then said quietly, "Fire purges everything."

A few minutes pa.s.sed. In the distance, Rukin heard a loud explosion, then another, and another, like rolling thunder. They were attacking the walls.

CHAPTER 50.

Plague Barge Destiny

Mediterranean Sea

Kate was tired of waiting for Shaw. She rolled off the bunk. She needed to get to the surface to make a call. She glanced at Martin. She couldn't leave him here. She pulled him up and helped him to the door. She opened it and looked out. The corridor was clear.

They made their way to the tiny doors for the elevator. Kate hit the up b.u.t.ton, and the elevator dinged and opened a few seconds later, revealing a cramped compartment. What floor to hit? Kate pressed the b.u.t.ton for level one and waited.

The doors parted. Two men in white coats, doctors she a.s.sumed, stood before her, holding clipboards, discussing something.

One was Chinese, the other was European. The Chinese doctor stepped forward, c.o.c.ked his head, and said, "Dr. Grey?"

Kate froze. She was halfway off the elevator. She considered going back, but the Chinese doctor closed the distance quickly. The European was close behind him. "You know this man?" he asked.

Martin was still listless, but he looked up. "Chang..." he voice was soft, barely audible.

Kate's heart raced.

"I..." Chang began. He turned to his colleague. "I used to work with this man. He's... a fellow Immari researcher." He looked at Kate for a moment. "Bring him."

Kate glanced down the corridor to her left and right. Guards loitered at each end.

She was trapped. Chang was walking down the narrow hallway directly ahead, and the European scientist was staring at her, his head c.o.c.ked. Kate fell in behind Chang.

The hallway opened onto a large kitchen that had been converted to a research facility. The steel tables had been transformed into makes.h.i.+ft operating tables. It vaguely reminded Kate of the kitchen in the Orchid District, where Martin had told her the truth about the plague in the attached office.

"Help me get him onto the table," Chang said.

The European stepped closer to examine Martin.

Martin slowly turned his head to look at Kate. There was no expression, and he said nothing.

Chang stepped between the other scientist and Kate and Martin. "If you could... give us a moment. I need to talk with them."

When he had left, Chang turned to Kate. "You're Kate Warner, aren't you?"

Kate hesitated. The fact that he suspected it and hadn't turned her in... she thought she could trust him. "Yes." She nodded to Martin. "Can you help him?"

"I doubt it." Chang opened a steel cabinet and took out a syringe. "But I can try."

"What is that?"

"Something we've been working on. The Immari version of Orchid. It's still experimental, and it doesn't work for everyone." He focused on Kate. "It could kill him. Or it could give him a few more days. Do you want me to administer it?"

Kate glanced down at Martin, at his dying body. She nodded.

Chang stepped forward and injected him. He glanced at the door.

"What's wrong?" Kate asked.

"Nothing..." Chang murmured as he focused on Martin.