Naomi glanced down at the line of light beneath the door and held a finger up behind her. Dante crouched and steadied himself into a two-handed shooter’s stance.
“One moment, please,” he said to Jasmijn.
Suddenly a knock came at the door. “Security. Checking in. Everything okay?”
The voice belonged to a younger Danish male, fitting the profile for the university sponsored patrols.
Dante relaxed his stance. He put his gun down, but did not holster it. He nodded to Nay, who did the same before indicating to Jasmijn that she should respond and come to the door.
“Yes, I’m fine. One second.” She got down from the stool and walked to the door. She opened it.
A blonde head she didn’t recognize poked into the gap left by the open door. “Afternoon, Doctor. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes. Quite alright, thank you.” Jasmijn started to close the door but the man put his hand on its edge.
“Excuse me, Doctor. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been news I need to tell you about. May I come in?”
Dante could see Jasmijn check herself as she started to turn her head to look at him and Naomi. They were supposed to be scientists — colleagues of Jasmijn’s, not a gun-toting mercenary detail — so she didn’t want them to be seen if she could help it. But she needed their approval here. Did they know something she didn’t?
Dante nodded and waved his hand backwards. Come on in. To deny them entry was suspicious and would only delay Jasmijn’s work while the university sent more people to investigate. Better to put them at ease now and send them on their way if at all possible.
“Sure. I can spare a minute or two.” She pulled the door opened and stepped back.
The blonde man walked into the lab. He was followed closely by another man, also wearing the yellow and blue university security officer’s jacket, who entered the room with him.
Naomi and Dante quickly plucked white lab coats from hooks behind the door and put them on. They pulled clear plastic safety goggles from the pockets and wore those as well. They pocketed their pistols and each sat on lab stools as though they were taking a break.
The pair of security men walked inside, the second one closing the door behind them. They had a thorough look around, their gazes lingering over Jasmijn’s two “associates,” before addressing the scientist.
“How is your work going — the progress on the antidote?”
Jasmijn’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t normal for university security personnel to be informed about the details of laboratory work. But then again, hers was a high profile situation, the very reason for the enhanced security in the first place. But a glance askew at Dante and Naomi told her that they weren’t buying it, either. The two OUTCASTs were on the edge of their stools, trying almost too hard to appear casual.
“Going well. Need to get back to it, though. You said there was news to tell me?”
The first of the two into the room nodded. “There has been a second terrorist attack. In Hawaii. Thousands dead from an airborne STX neurotoxin. We need that antidote.”
The hairs on Jasmijn’s arms bristled. “We?”
The second of the two security men took a couple of steps back, watching Dante and Nay closely before his associate continued.
“Yes, we. I believe you met with a colleague of ours, earlier, no? A colleague who informed you that the STX antidote was needed very soon. We are checking up on the progress of that antidote on behalf of that associate.”
“You—” Jasmijn stammered, suddenly very unsure of herself. “You don’t—”
But she never finished her sentence.
Dante pulled his Sig Sauer so fast that neither of the two Hofstad terrorists knew what was happening. That speed came at a price, though. One shot found its mark in the midsection of the man talking to Jasmijn, but the other ricocheted harmlessly off the tile floor. The stricken man reached for something on his belt as he fell to the floor. Dante assumed it was a weapon and blasted his face off with the Sig.
Then a small electronic device clattered onto the floor and he saw it was a two-way radio. This reminded him of the fact that he and Nay both wore small headset radios that were highly advanced and would give away the fact that they were not simply scientists.
Jasmijn backpedaled away from the fallen intruder. “You’re from Hofstad, aren’t you? How did you get these uniforms?” Oh God…”
But no one else in the room was listening to her. The Hofstad man on the floor was dying, wordlessly hunched over the floor clutching his lacerated gut, chunky ropes of pink spittle swinging from his slackjawed mouth. The remaining Hofstad agent charged into Dante like a bull, smashing his back into the lab counter while Naomi aimed her handgun at the fast-moving combatants.
From there the fight grew furious, a blur of fists, knees and elbows until Naomi had no way to be sure who she’d be shooting. The two grappling men grunted and gasped, heads turning to avoid blows, the fisticuffs clearly taking a toll on both operators.
Jasmijn kept screaming but Naomi blocked it out, focusing her attention on Dante and the man he opposed. The two opponents moved so fast it was like trying to read the numbers on a roulette wheel while it spun. Still, she kept her eyes on them, waiting and hoping for a break that would give her an opportunity for a clean shot.
At that moment the fallen man’s radio burst forth with Danish chatter. Only the two women in the room were able to listen to it, and of them only Jasmijn could understand it.
“They just told someone the room number of the lab! Someone’s coming!”
Whether that someone was Hofstad reinforcements, university security or local police, she had no way of knowing, but it seemed to spur Dante into action. He grappled even more furiously, gripping the Hofstad man’s head with both hands and whipping him into the bench counter. Then he took a well-placed knee to the groin, letting out a choking cough. It looked as though the terrorist was about to plant both feet on Dante’s chest and push, but then he realized that his lack of separation from his target was the only thing keeping him alive. Instead of pushing him away, the Hofstad activist flung himself forward in a fluid rolling motion on top of Dante, so that both men now wrestled on the hard floor. Each tried to slam the other’s face into the tiles.
Finally, with Dante straining his arm muscles to hold his foe’s head up, Naomi saw her chance for a shot. She held her breath. Pulled the trigger back.
That was when the lab door burst open.
TWENTY-FIVE
Naomi counted four men, guns drawn, pouring into the lab. She ducked behind a lab bench. Dante still grappled on the floor with the Hofstad man. He was finally gaining the upper hand, rolling onto his side while pinning his opponent’s arms unnaturally beneath him. Naomi heard the snap of bone followed by an agonizing wail.
Dante kicked the man away from him and was about to pull his weapon when two of the newcomers appeared to their left, and two to their right.
Four snub-nosed automatic weapons were aimed at Dante, Naomi, and Jasmijn. Dante could see that the extremists also carried backup weapons — pistols and knives worn on utility belts. Two of the men were typical looking light-skinned Dutchmen, early thirties, Dante guessed, while the other two had a more swarthy complexion that suggested North African descent. Regardless, all four them appeared deadly serious to the point of holding back anger.
One of them glanced down at their fallen comrade but did not bother to render aid.
“Search them for weapons,” he said in Danish, understandable only to Jasmijn. She translated for Nay and Dante, who emerged slowly from the floor with his hands held high. His Hofstad opponent lay on the floor writhing in agony, favoring his broken arm.