Five sets of massive wheels, each set the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, extended to meet the snowy landing strip. The C-5 seemed to be moving in slow motion, but it was a jet coming in for a landing at around 120 miles per hour.
Gunther moved to stand at Colding’s shoulder. “What do you want us to do?”
If not for the burning hangar, the charred body on the ground and the woman in the bioinformatics lab with at least a couple of broken ribs, Colding might have laughed at the question.
“Do? Just get in. Our ride is here.”
NOVEMBER 8: WAR ZONE
THE C-5’S TAIL ramp slowly lowered. The wind picked up speed, whipping light snow across the landing strip and sending hands to shield squinting eyes. Lights blared from the plane’s twenty-foot opening, a glowing cave that made a hazy, shivering corona against the falling snow. It struck Colding as a giant mechanical monster, jaws agape, waiting to swallow the Rhumkorrf project whole.
As the ramp lowered past the halfway point, a single man walked down its length.
Magnus Paglione.
Andy let out a triumphant “Yeah!” He gave Colding a now you’re in for it dirty look, then ran to meet his friend. Magnus and Andy reminded Colding of a man and a pet terrier. Andy was hyper, perpetually angry, and worshipped his master. Magnus obviously enjoyed Andy’s company, but never hesitated to dish out discipline as needed.
A large black duffel bag hung from Magnus’s shoulder. The weight of the contents pulled the canvas straps into taut lines that folded up on themselves, but Magnus carried it with the casual ease of a man carrying a loaf of bread. He walked up to Colding, surveying the people and the damage.
His gaze landed on Brady’s corpse. Magnus stared at it for a few seconds.
“Is that Brady?”
Colding nodded.
Magnus looked up, his expression blank. “Who did it?”
Colding swallowed. His heart raced. Magnus’s face showed no emotion, but his whole demeanor had changed—he radiated danger.
“It was Doctor Hoel.”
“You’re kidding,” Magnus said. “An old woman did all of this? Why?”
Colding glanced at Rhumkorrf, thought of lying to keep things as calm as possible, but there was no point. “She wanted to get back at Claus for getting Galina kicked off the project.”
Claus blinked. Snow stuck to his black-rimmed glasses. He looked down at Brady’s corpse, then looked up, taking a subconscious step away from the smoking body as if to separate himself just a bit more.
“That’s ridiculous,” Claus said. “Erika Hoel is a woman of science. I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Jian said in a hoarse rasp. “She took out the off-site backup and all the data.”
Claus’s face blanched and his chest puffed up in panic. It wasn’t lost on Colding that Claus instantly seemed far more concerned about his project than the dead body on the ground.
“The data? She destroyed our data? How could you let her do that?”
Jian held up the petabyte cartridge. She looked scared, hurt and sad all at the same time, but Colding would have bet a hundo that a part of her bitterly enjoyed the panic she’d just given Rhumkorrf.
“I have it all,” Jian said. “And we have done it. Ninety-five percent viability.”
Colding felt a surge of excitement, yet another emotion joining the tumult ripping through his head and soul. Had they done it after all?
“Ninety-five…” Rhumkorrf said, his face shifting from bluster and anger to shock and excitement. “That is fantastic!”
“Go team,” Magnus said. “All’s well that ends well, right? As long as we have the precious data, I guess it’s all good.”
Rhumkorrf actually started to agree, then realized that Magnus was being facetious. Rhumkorrf stared at the ground.
Magnus turned his glare back to Colding. “Where is Hoel?”
“In the bioinformatics lab. It’s under control.”
“If you call my dead friend and millions of dollars in damage under control, Bubbah, then you and I use a different dictionary.” Magnus loved to call Americans Bubbah. Especially Colding. He seemed to find either great humor or great insult in the name.
“I know, right?” Andy said. “Looks like an assault team came in. But no, just some old nympho. Sure glad Colding is in charge.”
“Andy, shut up,” Magnus said. “We’re in a bit of a hurry here. Let’s get everyone onboard, we’re bugging out.”
A fresh gust of wind made everyone duck their head, shield their eyes and take a half step for balance. Everyone but Magnus. He stood still as a stone and stared at Colding. Colding stared right back, his best poker face firmly in place, suspecting Magnus saw right through it.
“Time to move,” Magnus said. “Doctor Rhumkorrf, you have enucleated eggs for all the backup herds?”
“Of course. They are in storage in the main lab.”
“Get them,” Magnus said. “Duplicates of your equipment are on the plane, including the God Machine. You don’t have to wait until we land, you can run the immune response during flight.”
Jian handed Colding the petabyte drive. “I will get the eggs,” she said. She raised an arm over her eyes to block the wind, then ran for the front airlock.
Magnus again stared at the tarp-covered Brady Giovanni. He looked up and nodded, as if he’d accepted the situation. “Colding, get everyone on the plane. We need to move. I’ll stay and get a medevac in for Doctor Hoel.”
Andy stepped forward. “Are you shitting me, Mags?” The C-5’s lights cast strange shadows on Andy’s eyes, under his nose, under his chin. It made him look a little demonic. “That bitch killed Brady, man. And when I tried to take care of it Colding drew down on me and even took my gun. He’s still got my fucking gun, right? You can’t possibly tell me you’re going to leave him in charge, he has no idea—”
Magnus’s left hand shot out and grabbed Andy by the throat, interrupting the smaller guard’s rant. The grab was so controlled it looked almost delicate—one second Andy was talking, the next he was choking, his eyes bulging in surprise, a massive hand completely wrapped around his neck.
“Andy,” Magnus said. “I thought I told you to shut up.”
Andy’s hands shot up, tried to isolate a finger and bend it backward. Colding saw Magnus squeeze, just a little bit. Andy’s eyes grew even wider, then he held his hands up, palms out. Magnus let go and again looked at Colding, as if nothing had happened. Coughing hard, Andy bent at the waist, hands at his throat. He stayed calm, dealing with it, but it was clear that Magnus could have crushed his windpipe with just a touch more pressure.
“Fischer’s on the way,” Magnus said. “We have a very limited satellite window and have to go right now. We’ve been calling you for thirty minutes, but…”—he gestured to the broken satellite dish—“looks like your phone is out of service. Our intel says we have about forty minutes to get clear. I want the C-5 airborne in five. Give Andy his weapon.”
Colding pulled the Beretta from his belt and handed it back to Andy.
Magnus looked back to the C-5. “Let’s move!” He waved his hand. Beckoning someone inside to come down the ramp.