Edie turned the wheel sharply. “How can you possibly know that?”
“When I asked him about a treatment, he glanced back subtly. He didn’t mean too, it was involuntary, his subconscious giving him away.” He paused, gripped her hand. “The rest of it. It was there in his expression and he confirmed it when I asked.”
Edie squeezed his hand in return. “We’ll sort this when we get back to the President’s Palace. If it’s there, they’ll find it.”
“Not the palace,” Scott said. “Get confirmation on the director’s whereabouts.”
Edie stomped on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt. “The director?”
“It was his shooter that took out Blake just now,” Scott said. “Why do that? How did he know where to lie in wait?”
Edie killed the engine.
Silence.
Scott stared at her and waited for understanding.
She never looked over.
Instead, she grimaced and pressed down her brows. She began shaking and punching the steering wheel, her teeth clenched. When she finally looked over at Scott, the muscles of her face were frozen in a scowl. “This whole time. He’s been playing us.”
“I believe he has,” Scott said, “and it’s past time for us to pay him a visit to return the favor.”
Chapter 16
What has the madman done?
Master Chief Roberts stood topside on the USS Kearsarge and gazed into the depths of the Mediterranean. Confirmation had just come in that the virus was released and the area of contamination had spread throughout much of the President’s Palace. It seemed all he could do to breathe. The thought of all those people exposed to a deadly virus was something he couldn’t fathom. He wouldn’t admit it, but felt relieved to be aboard ship and not on land.
The chief knew hundreds may die. Presidents, prime ministers, ambassadors, honored guests, ordinary staff, security, soldiers, police and others. He was frightened by the prospect and of the possibilities should containment at the palace fail. If the virus spread, tens of thousands would become infected within hours and perhaps the entire nation of Malta within a few days. Those lives — a half million — were in the hands of the few trying to prevent catastrophe.
The President’s Palace was sealed by hazmat containment and on full lockdown, guarded by local police, security forces and military. He had expected more pushback, a showdown between local authorities and the combined US and AFM operation, but so far it hadn’t come to that. Any potential conflicts seemed to dissipate as soon as commanders explained the omega protocol governing the biohazard lockdown. Warnings of the catastrophe that awaited should containment fail helped as well.
No one wants the specter of the deaths of hundreds of thousands hanging over their heads, the chief thought, staring into the dark waters. Even the fleet seemed to be reluctant to commit, though perhaps orders from higher up prevented their return so as not to endanger the lives of the tens of thousands of sailors and marines on the ships. That left the command to the Kearsarge and hers. Three thousand souls also at risk.
To his right, two petty officers stood smoking cigarettes. The chief turned to them. “Can I have one of those?”
“Sure, Master Chief,” one said, quickly getting out a pack of filtered regulars. The other got out his lighter and sparked it, holding it out in cupped hands for the chief.
“Thanks, just the cigarette,” the chief said, holding it for a moment before tucking it behind his ear. “Not quite ready to smoke it yet.”
The petty officer nodded and twisted away. The shifting wind got the chief’s attention and he turned so he could face it head on. As he looked out to sea, he found himself staring at the Port of Malta in the distance. If it came to it, ships would be barred from leaving the ports, just as planes would be barred from leaving airports. He imagined that wouldn’t go over well and that fleet would have to take control then to handle the air and sea traffic.
Life’s like a cigarette, the chief thought. Smoke it up and it’s gone.
He thought of Captain Parker and Agent Evers out there somewhere risking their lives to bring resolution to the dangerous situation. Captain Howard had lost faith in the two at points during the day, but he never had. All day long he’d been wishing them luck and Godspeed, but now he just wished they were safe outside the walls of the palace.
He knew the thoughts were crass when so many lives were at risk, but those two lives in particular were the ones he felt most responsible for. Parker and Evers had found success after success, they just hadn’t been able to stop the madman in time.
A Petty Officer Third Class running across the deck with a satellite phone caught the chief’s eye. “Urgent, for you, chief,” the petty officer said.
The chief took the phone and put it to his ear. “Master Chief Roberts here.” He sighed in relief as he listened to the familiar voice on the other end of the call. “Slow down, Agent Evers. Captain Parker, is she?”
“Captain Parker’s driving,” Evers said.
The chief took in a breath and let it go before he said anything, the tension in his gut dissipating. “You’re with Captain Parker? Not in the President’s Palace?”
“I am,” Evers said. “We need air transport urgently. Take down these coordinates.”
“Pen,” the chief shouted as he started below decks. A moment later the petty officer who brought him the phone put one in his hand. “Go.” As Evers read the coordinates, the chief wrote them down on his hand. “What’s happening? How can we assist?”
“It’s time to box and cage the director. Is surveillance still in place?”
“The director?” The chief shifted the phone to his other ear. “Last update put the director at an abandoned airfield southwest of Malta International. Talk to me. Tell me—”
“There’s a chartered helicopter in for repairs. Is it still there? Is it flight-ready?”
“Hold on,” the chief said. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned right. Sit 1 was twenty yards away. Once he was in the door, he scanned the latest status brief pertaining to the director. “There’s a twin-engine helicopter being prepped.”
“Nothing out. Lock it down if our transport can’t get us there in time.”
“Copy that,” the chief said, panting and trying to catch his breath after the brisk walk. “Complete lockdown if necessary.”
As the chief hung up, he turned to the e-wall. Its banks of displays were currently being used for one purpose: a live status of the President’s Palace and the palace, with floor plans superimposed over the top, filled the viewing area.
Each blinking dot on the massive collection of displays represented a real-time reading from a test device used by onsite hazmat teams. There were hundreds of blinking dots. Each red dot meant viral contamination was present at that location. Other colors meant other things, but all the dots were blinking red because every tested location was contaminated.
Chapter 17
Scott glanced over at Edie. She’d transformed back into the warrior woman he knew she was, wearing a field vest over her long black dress, her face still smeared with dirt.
There’d been no time for anything after contacting the chief. Edie, in a race with the devil to meet the incoming helicopter at the rendezvous, had put the Renault coupe through its paces and then some while breaking just about every traffic law in Malta. Through it all, her eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun while her beautiful hair danced in the wind streaming in through the open driver’s window.