Eric grabbed the man, yanked him through the door, and shoved him to a waiting FBI agent. “Go, John.”
John nodded. He stepped through the entrance and made his way to the door in the back. He opened it carefully and looked down a short hallway. There was a heavy steel door at the end. He concentrated and keyed the VISOR’s audio to maximum, but there was nothing except for the gentle hum of the building’s HVAC system.
He walked down the hall, half-expecting the door at the end to burst open, but it remained closed, the building quiet.
When he reached the door, he turned around. Eric was right behind him. “The door could be rigged.”
“Good point,” Eric said. “Maybe we should find another way in.”
Several thoughts ran though John’s head — a picture of him stepping through the door and the flash of an explosion. The sight of the Ryder truck exploding in front of the Red Cross and the shame he now felt. The image of bodies, lined up like firewood, in makeshift hospitals, their eyes hollow.
“Step back,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
He pointed to the door. “I’m tired of this. Liu Kong is in there. I’m going in and I’m going to get him.”
“You sure?” Eric asked again.
Behind Eric, Deion nodded. He saw Taylor and Mark give him the thumbs up, and even Nancy had the beginning of an approving smile on her face.
“I’m sure.”
Eric and the rest of the OTM and FBI agents retreated to the entrance and John turned around, twisted the handle on the metal door, and kicked the door.
The steel door slammed open and John could finally see what lay beyond. The floor of the manufacturing plant was empty, the lines of gleaming silver equipment silent, the day’s run of syringes not yet started. He stepped past rows of complex machinery whose function he couldn’t begin to guess, the bare floor as clean as an operating room.
He turned left and passed a bank of injection molding machines, ready for the day’s production. The room was still eerily quiet, but when he made the next right he finally found Liu Kong.
Kong sat on a metal stool, his face impassive, watching him.
It was the black plastic case on the floor in front of Kong that caused him to freeze.
“I have waited for this moment,” Kong said. “Welcome.”
He heard footsteps behind him and raised his hand. “Don’t come any closer,” he warned Eric and the rest. “Something’s not right.”
The footsteps stopped. “What’s he playing at?” Eric asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “He’s just sitting there.” To Kong, he said, “Whatever you have planned, it won’t work. We have the building surrounded.”
Kong bowed his head. “My faceless enemy has no face.”
John wracked his brain, trying to figure out what Kong meant, then realized he meant the VISOR. “We are not your enemy. Whatever Huang Lei has told you—”
“Huang Lei is beyond your mortal ken,” Kong said blandly. “You cannot defeat him.”
“We stopped the bomb,” John said, taking one step forward, “and we’re going to stop you. Huang Lei has already been defeated. Tell me where he is.”
“You will never find him,” Kong said, shaking his head. “He is more than a man. He is the Jade Emperor.”
John recognized the gleam in Kong’s eyes. Kong wasn’t a terrorist. Kong was a fanatic. “There’s only one way this ends.” He held up his right hand with the M11 pistol. “Either you come willingly or I’ll be forced to shoot. You’re finished. Get on the ground.”
A smile played across Kong’s face then the man bowed his head again. “I am.”
In that instant, John knew what Kong intended. He knew why Kong had waited so patiently, for them to enter the plant. He turned to his team and saw their eyes widen, and managed to scream.
“Get out!”
It was too late. The impact slammed into him like a giant’s hand, rattling every bone in his body, so violent that he saw a bright flash of light behind his eyelids before the darkness claimed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Huang Lei sank back into his leather chair. He watched the coastline far below as the plane banked, heading for the open ocean. The waves formed in lines of white, breaking neatly parallel before pounding the beach with frothy foam.
He sighed. He would miss his office, but there were many others around the world in many different cities and under many different names. He would disappear and his enemies would find only an empty penthouse.
Kong was most likely dead. If the plan succeeded, his enemy was now infected. The Americans would not have time to find a cure to keep the sickness from spreading. Soon, America would be on its knees, finally stepping back from the global stage.
Finally, the Americans would know their place. He only wished the Russians had suffered an equal fate, but he still had plans for them.
Liu Kong’s death would not be in vain. The world would soon be on a new path. A greater path.
After hundreds of years of America’s failed experiment in government, sanity would be restored.
Eric sat up slowly. The room spun and he shook his head, trying to clear the wooziness. John stared back from the bubble across from his, then raised his hand and waved. Nancy was still asleep in her bubble, but Taylor, Deion and John Waverly were awake.
Taylor listened to an MP3 player, and occasionally his voice would join in on some old country song before John would holler for him to shut up. Deion lay on his hospital bed, reading quietly. John Waverly played cards on a table in his bubble, hardly speaking to anyone.
They had turned one of the spare aircraft hangars under the mountains of Groom Lake into a quarantine area and men and women in white containment suits worked on the last bubble in the line, the one containing Mark Kelly.
His laptop beeped and he answered it. Nathan Elliot smiled back at him. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” Eric said. “I’m still weak. How much longer before we get out of these things?”
Elliot shook his head. “You’re just lucky I have been working on a viral component for the next version of the StrikeForce technology. If we hadn’t installed dozens of fourth-generation DNA sequencers—”
He sighed. “Yeah, real lucky. How’s Mark?”
Elliot frowned. “Not well. He’s the only one of you to suffer such… drastic consequences. I’m afraid he might not be the same.”
Eric’s blood went cold. “What are you saying?”
“The swelling in his spinal column was severe. He may not walk again.”
Eric cursed under his breath. “That’s unacceptable.”
“Do you understand how lucky you are?” Elliot asked, his rumbling voice rising in pitch. “Not just that we managed to quarantine you all. Not just that we stopped Kong from infecting millions of flu shots. For whatever reason, the virus wasn’t designed to be lethal. If it had been, you’d all be dead. As it is, you’ll be back to normal in a day or two, but Mr. Kelly is going to require intensive care.”
Eric nodded. “I’m sorry, Doc. I am grateful. I’m just not used to sitting around doing nothing.”
“We’re doing our best,” Elliot said. “There’s something else. John’s blood tests.”