The crisscrossing scaffolding structure he’d glanced at moments earlier led down into the darkness at the bottom of the sphere. It would be easy to climb down. He quickly pointed his flashlight at the very bottom, and though it was hard to tell for sure, there appeared to be some kind of hatch on the floor. His best guess was that it led down into the circular base structure where the other door was located.
Potential escape was there, but he’d never make it in time. He’d be spotted by whoever was coming up the stairs before he was even halfway down.
He looked under the platform again.
Okay. Escape might be impossible, he thought. But what if—
The clanging of the metal steps ceased.
There was no more time to think. Quinn stowed his flashlight and quickly lowered himself over the edge of the platform. Moving as silently as he could, he maneuvered his body underneath it.
He paused for a fraction of a second to get his bearings, then worked his way across the scaffolding, using it like a kid’s jungle gym. When he was directly under the center of the bio-containment room, he stopped.
He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, and his breaths were coming in short, silent bursts. But he knew just hanging from the center of the room wasn’t enough.
He pulled his feet up and secured them on top of one of the crossbars, tucking himself horizontally against the bottom of the room. He wasn’t invisible, but it was the closest he could get to it.
He heard the door to the sphere open. There was a rush of air, followed by the sound of two people stepping through the opening and onto the platform. A pause, followed by a low voice, then a flicker of brightness. The new arrivals were scanning the space with a flashlight. Quinn could see the reflection of the beam as it occasionally slipped below the level of the platform and glinted off the scaffolding.
After several moments, the footsteps continued across the platform, to the door of the lab. There was a sucking sound as the door was opened and air moved from one space to another. A moment later the door shut.
Quinn’s left calf had begun to cramp. He chanced moving his leg to relieve the pressure and had just found a more comfortable position when the door to the lab opened again. Then: “One, this is Matz. The sphere is empty.”
The voice spoke German, clear and distinct. Matz was apparently talking into a radio. It was also obvious by the unhampered sound of his voice that he was not wearing any protective gear over his face. To Quinn it meant the lab wasn’t hot yet. He would have felt a sense of relief if he hadn’t been hanging dozens of feet above the ground wondering how long it would be before a bullet pierced his skull.
The radio crackled with static, then a voice, also in German but not with a native accent, said, “You checked everywhere?”
“Yes,” Matz replied. “There is no one here but us.”
“Underneath?” the voice asked.
Another pause. Then Matz said, “We’re checking now.”
Quinn tensed. There was nothing he could do except remain perfectly still. He couldn’t even grab his gun without upsetting his balance.
Suddenly, the flashlight beam swung over the edge of the platform. There was a thump, and Quinn guessed that one of the men was kneeling down so he could get a better look below. The beam of light flashed across the scaffolding close to Quinn as it traveled down toward the bottom of the sphere. Once there, it moved slowly across the floor, taking in every inch.
“I don’t see anything,” a voice said. Not Matz this time, but his partner.
“Are you sure?” Matz asked.
“You want to look?”
“One, this is Matz. There’s no one below.”
“He has to be in the building somewhere,” the voice on the radio said, his irritation coming through clearly. “He hasn’t come outside yet.”
“Maybe his partner warned him,” Matz offered.
“Not a chance. Get out of there and go out back in case the others are able to flush him out.”
“Understood.”
Quinn listened as the two men walked across the platform above him and exited the sphere.
Quinn remained hanging under the platform, as still as possible, for what he guessed to be about thirty minutes. Eyes closed, his breathing even, he silently recited the lyrics to the songs on Changes One, David Bowie’s first greatest-hits album. Halfway through “John, I’m Only Dancing,” his leg cramped again. He flexed his foot back and forth, easing the pressure on his calf. But neither Bowie nor the pain in his leg could clear his mind.
The operation had really gone to shit.
It’s the disruption all over again, he thought. Only this time, it was obvious who had set them up.
Duke.
“Fuck conspiracy theories,” Durrie had said. “The obvious is right ninety-nine percent of the time.”
From the moment Duke had sent Quinn the e-mail, it had been a setup. The only reason he hadn’t been taken out the minute Duke had him in his car was that they wanted to get Quinn’s entire team.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. Did that mean Peter was involved in the deception, too? After all, he was the one who had pushed Quinn to come to Berlin. Taking it a step further, could that then mean Peter was involved in the disruption of his own organization?
A chill passed through Quinn, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully believe it. Whatever the truth was, he wasn’t going to figure it out hanging here. He’d waited long enough. It was time to move.
The interior of the sphere was in complete darkness, but he couldn’t chance using his flashlight. He eased himself down the scaffolding by touch, careful to transfer his weight from one point to the next slowly, cutting down on any unnecessary noise. Finally, his feet touched bottom.
No longer able to minimize the risk, he pulled out his flashlight. Before turning it on, he put his hand over the lens to better control the beam. Once he flipped the switch, his palm glowed a reddish yellow.
He played the light across the floor. Black hard plastic, molded to fit the bottom of the sphere. He was standing on top of the pedestal he’d seen from the outside. That put him approximately seven feet above actual ground level.
Off to his right was something that looked like a submarine hatch. It was set into the floor and hinged to lift upward. The only thing missing was a handle to open it. Instead, there were two buttons set into the center of the door. One red, one green.
Quinn pushed the green button. For half a second, nothing happened. Then the seal on the door released and Quinn was able to pull it open. Again, air rushed past him into the sphere.
He leaned over the opening and shone his light inside. The space was tiny, just enough for one person to stand comfortably. Mounted to one wall was a ladder. On the wall opposite was a door, and set into the frame next to the door was a colored light, shining red.
Quinn lowered himself through the opening and onto the ladder, then climbed down. He tried the lower door, but as he expected, it didn’t open. He reached up and pulled the hatch closed. There were buttons on the inside that matched those on the outside. He pushed the red button and heard the hatch reseal. As he turned around, the red light beside the lower door turned green. If he was right, this time the door would open.
He was right.
Quinn stepped through the door and found himself in a circular room. Only two objects broke up the curved walls: the air-lock shaft he’d just exited, and a door about a quarter of the way around to his left. It had to be the same door he’d seen from the outside.
As he walked toward it he stumbled over something on the floor. He brought his flashlight around to see what had caused his misstep.