Before they could say anything, McMasters walked past the two guards, stopped at the closed front door, and entered his passcode into a panel built on the wall next to the airtight entrance.
The door slid open, revealing a small sterile room.
McMasters walked in and waited while the door sealed behind him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it. A second later, the fluorescent light in the room changed to ultraviolet to kill any microorganisms that he may have had on his skin and clothes. Next, a powerful blast of air shot at him from dozens of nozzles built into the walls. In seconds, it was done. Lastly, a vacuum in the floor kicked in and sucked away any impurities in the air. The lights in the room turned back to fluorescent and the door directly in front of him slid open.
McMasters let out his breath and walked over to the far wall. He stood there with his hands on his hips, watching through a large glass window as a couple of men dressed in chemical-protective suits placed several long, metal vials into a hardened carrying case the size of a military barrack box. Built to withstand a tremendous shock, the container could be dropped from the top of the tallest building in the world and wouldn’t shatter.
McMasters reached over and pressed a button on the wall. “How much more time do you need?”
“A couple of minutes at most,” replied one of the men with a strong Italian accent. “We only have four more vials to fill, and then we’re done.”
“Okay, but get a move on, the helicopter is here already.”
“Mister McMasters, we will be done when we are done,” replied the man. “I don’t think you want us to drop something and contaminate this room in our haste, do you?”
McMasters bit his lip. He knew the man was right. He was growing impatient. He couldn’t wait to move onto the next phase of the operation. It felt as if he had been cooped up on the oil rig for months. He told the man to do his best, stepped back, and watched. On a table behind the two technicians sat the Luna 15 probe. It had been cut open with a laser and the precious sample held inside taken. McMasters glanced down at his watch. It was almost time for him to call Houston and provide him with an update. Starting to feel the pressure of meeting Houston’s tightly laid-out timetable, McMasters began to nervously tap his right foot on the white ceramic floor.
Mitchell knew that time was slipping away. He was debating the best route to take when a man in a white lab coat, carrying a clipboard, turned a corner and walked past Grace and him as if they weren’t even there.
“Excuse me, sir, but my friend and I are new here. We seem to be lost,” said Mitchell in Spanish, playing a hunch. “Would you be heading back towards the crew quarters?”
The man smiled. “Sorry, but I’m heading to the lab. You must have been told during orientation that the laboratory is out of bounds.”
“We were. Sorry for wasting your time,” replied Mitchell.
“It’s all right. If you turn around, head back down the corridor and take the first left, you’ll be heading in the right direction.”
“Sorry, but we don’t have time for that right now,” said Mitchell, pulling his pistol from his coveralls. “Be a good man and lead us to the lab. My friend and I are dying to see what you’ve been up to.”
Dumbfounded, the man stood there staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at his head.
Mitchell didn’t have time to waste. He grabbed the man by his collar and spun him around until he was facing down the corridor. With his pistol jammed hard into the man’s back, Mitchell said, “Walk, or so help me I’ll shoot you in the back.”
The man reluctantly began to walk.
“Pick up the pace,” snarled Mitchell.
The terrified lab technician shook his head and began to walk faster.
Just before they turned a sharp corner, Mitchell heaved on the technician’s collar, pulling him back. “When we arrive at the lab, I don’t care what you tell the guards, but my friend and I are coming inside with you.”
“That’s impossible,” stammered the man. “No one but authorized personnel can enter the lab.”
“I don’t care,” replied Mitchell bluntly. “Get us in there or my partner will gut you like a fish.”
The technician almost jumped out of his skin when Grace smiled demonically back at him and pulled out a knife from her pocket. The man crossed himself. The instant he walked around the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Two stone-faced guards with their weapons hung over their shoulders turned to look at him.
“Can I help you?” asked the closest guard.
“I have been asked to escort these two workers inside the lab to fix a broken fan,” replied the technician.
The guard looked over Mitchell and Grace and said, “Where are their passes?”
“They are new here and haven’t had the chance to get them yet.”
“Sir, you know the protocols; no one can enter the lab without proper identification.”
Mitchell’s pistol dug into his back
Instantly, the technician changed his tone. “Look here, I don’t have time for this. If they don’t fix the fan, it could endanger the air quality inside the laboratory. I’m sure you don’t want to be known as the man who lost his job because he failed to listen to reason. Now, my good man, we can stand here all morning debating this, or you can let us inside.”
The guard wasn’t sure what to do. He looked over at his partner, who disinterestedly shrugged his shoulders. The guard let out a deep sigh and stepped aside.
“Thank you,” said the technician, still playing the part. He entered his passcode. With a whoosh, the door slid open. With Mitchell and Grace trailing close behind, the man led them into the sterilization chamber.
“Take a deep breath and close your eyes,” said the technician a split second before the fluorescent lights switched off.
A few seconds passed. Mitchell heard another door slide open. He opened his eyes and saw an empty room. He let out his breath and pushed the scared technician inside. Mitchell brought his pistol up expecting trouble; instead, the room was quiet and deserted.
“Where’s the probe?” Grace asked the technician.
“In there,” replied the man, pointing at the glass window.
Grace walked over, looked inside, and saw the Luna 15 probe sitting on a table. The surgical-like cuts from a laser on the metal coating of the probe told Grace that she was too late. Whatever her employer was after was gone.
“What were they doing in here?” asked Mitchell.
Fear filled the technician’s eyes.
Mitchell brought up his pistol up to the man’s head and repeated his question.
“Please, if I say anything, they’ll kill me,” pleaded the man.
“So will I, if you don’t answer my question.”
The hard look in Mitchell’s eyes told the technician that he wasn’t bluffing. “We were hired to remove the sample from the probe and to synthesize what we found in there.”
“What have you done with the samples?” demanded Grace.
Like a light being thrown on in a darkened room, the helicopter sitting on the landing pad suddenly flashed into Mitchell’s mind.
“Damn it, I’m losing it. They’re going to fly the sample out on that military chopper,” said Mitchell to Grace.
Grace dragged the technician back towards the sterilization chamber. “Press whatever buttons you have to, but get us the hell out here.”
Outside of the lab, the two guards heard the sealed door behind them slide open. Before either of them could turn their heads to see who was coming out, both were knocked to the ground, unconscious.