“Don’t worry, Jasmijn, we’ll be careful. Please, document the procedure.”
“Help me over to the sample ‘fridge.”
Dante and Stephen carried her over. “She shook her head and mumbled to herself as she worked, no doubt chastising herself for sticking herself with the STX needle, or for not getting the antidote right last time, which would have saved her. Or both. But she worked, pausing after a major step to think, to make certain she was getting it right this time.
Dante also noticed that her movements were becoming more labored, more difficult. “If you need us to do anything for you, don’t hesitate.” She nodded in response, lost in thoughts that he couldn’t even imagine. Meanwhile, Stephen was on the other side of the room softly reporting to Danielle over the comm system, and receiving an update from her on the Boothbay status. Naomi stood next to Jasmijn, physically supporting her on the stool so that she wouldn’t fall off.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Jasmijn said, staring into a fluid-filled test-tube. Then she placed the tube into a rack and looked up at her three guardians. “I’ve gone as far as I can go. I feel extremely weak.”
Dante came and gently held the arm that Naomi didn’t have. “I need you to put this tube in the autoclave for twenty minutes. After that…” She picked up a pen and began to write in a lab notebook, but frowned when she looked down at what she had written.
“Jesus. I’m sorry, this chicken-scratch won’t be legible. My hand — it’s shaking…” Her voice cracked with the realization that her body was rapidly breaking down.
“I’ll write for you.” Stephen ran to the lab bench and picked up the notepad and pen.
Jasmijn proceeded to dictate the remaining procedures to him while Naomi steadied her on the stool. Dante would move to the different apparatus and specialized machines she talked about, clarifying the specifics of their use, including the computer programs. When she had finished, Jasmijn had Stephen read the notes back to her while she listened, now being propped up almost exclusively by Naomi.
“Good. You got it.” Her voice had lost much of its tone and sounded like a wheezy rasp. “I need to lay down,” she told Naomi, who eased her on to the floor.
“Jasmijn, do you want me to take you to the hospital? You’d be more comfortable…”
“No. There’s nothing they can do for me. By the time I even explained what was wrong, I’d be…gone.” She closed her eyes.
“Jasmijn!” Naomi pleaded with her to open her eyes. A few seconds later, she did.
Stephen gained Naomi’s attention by waving a cell-phone in her direction and looking down at Jasmijn, his meaning clear. Nay gently shook the dying scientist.
“Jasmijn…listen to me. We’ll carry out the lab procedure to create the antidote. But is there anyone you want us to call for you? Anyone you want to talk to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it—before you die.
Jasmijn’s movements were very slow now, her breathing shallow. Even her eyes opened slowly as she looked at Naomi. The OUTCAST agent leaned in close to hear the words Jasmijn struggled to project.
“I’m at peace with everyone. Tell Tanner I’ll miss him.”
Naomi leaned in close. “I will. He’ll miss you, too.” Naomi had heard the rumors that Tanner and Jasmijn were romantically linked in the past.
“Jasmijn…” Naomi wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to her. She supposed she just wanted to reach out to her to let her know that someone else was there. “Goodbye,” was all that came out.
And then Dr. Rotmensen went into her death throes. As she herself had watched her lab assistant do, she began to convulse, her throat constricting, her lungs no longer powerful enough to perform their own expanding and contracting. The death wasn’t a pretty one, and although all three of the OUTCASTs had witnessed many people die in various situations, later they would all agree that this was one of the very worst.
Jasmijn’s lips turned blue with lack of oxygen. Her arms and legs twitched but couldn’t really move. The neurotoxin had fully taken hold over her nervous system. She had lost all motor control including the ability to regulate her breathing. Dante and Stephen tried to hold her still so that she wouldn’t bash her head into the tile floor. Naomi did her best to soothe the scientist. She might still be able to hear and process what was going on.
“Relax, Jasmijn. It’s okay. Let go. Let go. You’ve done great work. The world will be a better place for it. They will know how important your work was. It’s okay…”
She continued cooing to her for another minute and then the researcher’s body lay still, a yellow foam issuing from her mouth.
Dante felt her wrist for a pulse. He looked up at his two colleagues and shook his head.
Dr. Jasmijn Rotmensen was dead.
FORTY-SIX
The micro-drone made a bee-line for the president’s mega-yacht. Tanner watched it move off and realized that they would not be able to stop it. He could reach it by waverunner before it got to the yacht, but it was flying about twenty feet over the water. He wasn’t sure where on the Lincoln the president was, but hopefully indoors. He was about to suggest they try and warn Carmichael somehow, when Liam pointed urgently into the sky in front of them.
Another micro-helicopter had just been launched from the barge.
Followed by another.
And another.
Tanner’s heart sank as he watched the squadron of what he knew to be MUAVs, or Micro Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, flock toward the vessel that carried the POTUS. Now, with four MUAVs airborne, there was definitely no way he and Liam would be able to defend the yacht. He studied the barge while he idled his ski. The drones were being controlled from it. They were much closer to it than to the yacht. He signaled to Liam.
The barge.
The ex-SEAL caught on to his meaning immediately and directed his waverunner toward the low, flat vessel pursuing the yacht. Tanner took the starboard side of the barge while Liam ran past the port. Unlike many barges, this one actually had a structure on it, rather than consisting of only a flat, open deck. Most of the deck space was open, but there was a single story structure occupying the forward-most quarter of the vessel. It must be from inside that that the terrorists were controlling the MUAVs.
Tanner eyeballed the side of the barge as he neared. They would have to find a way to board it somehow. At least all of the crew were inside, which would make boarding much easier without anyone on deck to repel them. This vessel was all offense. All they had planned to do was to get near enough the president’s yacht to launch the micro-drones, make their strike and then…Tanner doubted they cared what happened after that. The people on board were no doubt simply doing the dirty work for those in command. Whether they believed they would be rewarded with endless virgins in Heaven for carrying out their holy jihad, or would actually be able to escape after striking the yacht of the POTUS, it made no difference. They would stop at nothing to achieve their objective.
Tanner saw no trailing lines or access ladders from which to board the barge, but there was a row of tires along the top rail, used as fenders. He brought his ski up alongside, throttling down to match the slow pace of the barge. Then, eyeing two tires a few feet ahead of him, he gunned the ski’s throttle and leapt a couple of seconds later, arms outstretched, reaching for the open tires.
His right hand grabbed one, and, not wanting to let the momentum of his jump go to waste, he swung his legs up into the well of another tire. He scrambled up to the deck, threw a leg over the wet planks, and rolled onto the barge.