Proving that, the lock clicked open at Monk's elbow. It must have been timed to the sterilization cycle. He twisted the handle and exited into the hall.
As he stepped free, voices echoed down the hall. He had a clear view to the elevator lobby. The door stood half open as someone argued in Norwegian out in the lobby. Monk recognized the uniformed arm of a security guard.
The automated safety protocol had summoned security.
Monk froze. He couldn't retreat back into the mushroom lab. That would surely be the first place they'd check. He had only one other option. Stepping into plain view, he hurried across the hall and placed his palm on the reader beside the other door. He held his breath as it scanned, watching the far door, praying that no one turned around.
Finally, the lock freed. With a silent sigh of thanks, he shoved the door open. He and Creed rushed inside.
Monk kept the door cracked open enough to watch the hallway.
A team of security guards, four in total, were led by a technician in a lab coat. The man looked like he had just woken up. Apparently access here required a certain level of clearance.
Monk allowed the door to slip closed, though he remained crouched where he could listen. The other lab door opened and closed. Men remained out in the hall. Monk heard them talking in low voices. He didn't know how many. At least three, he guessed.
Now what?
"Make some room," Creed said behind him.
Monk turned. His partner had shed his parka and donned his lab coat. He'd also dried his hair and finger-combed it roughly in place. Creed stepped into the anteroom. While Monk had been manning the door, his partner had gone into the larger room with the glass-walled apiaries.
"What are you doing?" Monk asked, eyeing him up and down.
Creed moved aside. Beyond the closed inner door, a stir of movement drew Monk's eye. In the outer room, a thin cloud of bees swirled and gathered.
"What did you do?" Monk asked.
Creed lifted an arm. In his hand, he held a meshed drawer. "I stole the queen." Creed pointed to the left. "And I broke the hive seal."
Monk frowned. From one of the apiaries, a thick column of bees boiled out where the drawer used to be.
"But why?" Monk asked.
Beyond the door, the bees gathered into a growing swarm.
"They're definitely Africanized," Creed said as he eyeballed his captured queen. "Very aggressive."
"That's great, but again-why?"
"To get us out of here." Creed pointed to the anteroom's inner door. "Open it when I say now. But keep behind the door."
Monk began to understand. He switched places with Creed and moved to the anteroom's inner door. Creed took his post by the hallway door and watched the gathering swarm of bees.
The cloud now hugged against the anteroom's glass door and walls, drawn by their queen's trail. Buzzing grew so loud it made Monk's skin crawl.
Creed continued to wait. He placed the drawer with the queen on the floor. In the other room the swarm grew so thick that it blocked the light.
"Be ready," Creed said as he straightened back up.
Monk grabbed the handle of his door.
With a final swipe through his hair, Creed faced the door and pulled it open. Monk was blocked from view, but he heard the startled outbursts of the security guards out in the hallway.
Creed put on an air of irritation and snapped at them in Norwegian.
As the guards struggled to decide if the new technician was a threat or not, Creed kicked the drawer across the floor toward the guards.
"Now!" he yelled.
Monk yanked his door open and crowded behind it.
The swarm immediately swept into the anteroom like an angry fist.
Creed dropped back and dragged his door fully open. With the way clear to their queen, the hive shot into the hall in a thick cloud. Panicked, one of the guards fired a wild shot.
A mistake.
Monk knew enough about Africanized bees to know they were sensitive to loud noises.
Screams followed, which only made matters worse.
Creed lunged over and grabbed the sleeve of Monk's jacket. Time to go. Monk followed Creed out the door. There was no need for stealth. Four guards writhed in the center of the swarm, covered thickly in a stinging mass. The bees filled mouths and crawled up noses.
Monk and Creed sprinted down the hall.
A few ambitious bees gave chase. Monk got stung several times, but the swarm remained close to their queen. With his long legs, Creed reached the door to the elevator lobby first. He pounded through. Monk slammed the door closed behind him.
Creed called the elevator, and the doors glided apart immediately. The cage was still on this level. They hurried inside. With no time to reach the servers, Monk abandoned their primary mission and pressed the lobby button. It was time to get out of here. Creed didn't argue.
Monk stared over at him as the elevator climbed.
"You did good, Doogie."
"Really?" He scowled sourly. "I'm still Doogie?"
Monk shrugged as they exited the elevator and hurried across the front foyer. He didn't want the kid's success to go to his head. As they headed back out into the night, a voice suddenly whispered in his ear, angry and urgent.
"Monk, report in." It was Painter.
Monk thumbed his throat mike. "Sir, we're heading out now."
A heavy sigh of relief followed. "And the mission?"
"We ran into a little trouble with bees."
"Bees?"
"I'll explain later. Should we rendezvous back at the hotel?"
"No. I'm headed your way now. I've got company with me."
Company?
"There's been a change in plans," Painter said. "Things have gotten a little too hot here in Oslo. So we're pulling up stakes and moving somewhere a little colder."
Still soaking wet from the foamy shower, Monk felt the ice-cold night cut down to his bones. Colder than this?
As Monk headed across the corporate campus, he pictured Gray nestled in a warm cabin, a fire blazing in a camp stove.
Lucky bastard.
Chapter 16
October 13, 12:22 A.M.
Lake District, England
As the forest burned, Gray clutched the lead rope of his stallion. He and the others had quickly saddled the ponies. They didn't have a moment to spare.
After the initial firestorm, the flames had died down to hellish glows all around them. A pall of thick smoke covered the valley, dimming the stars. A single blaze marked a section of the woods that had caught fire. Likely an old deadfall, dry and ready to burn. The rest of the snowy forest had resisted the flames so far.
But they were far from safe.
"Mount up!" he called to the others.
They had to move now. Every second counted as a more insidious danger closed around them. Peat fires traveled underground, spreading outward in smoldering channels and deeper fiery pits. Though the woods were dark, they hid a raging conflagration below.
Wallace had estimated that the entire valley would be consumed in less than an hour. No rescue could reach them in time. Gray had used his satellite phone to contact Painter, to briefly explain their situation and pass on their GPS coordinates, but even the director had agreed that air support could not be mobilized in time to reach them.
They were on their own.
As Gray climbed into the saddle, one of the massive stones in the ring toppled over as the peat beneath it burned and gave way. As it struck, a spate of flames erupted from the dark soil. Other stones had already fallen, some vanished completely into fiery pits.
This was no natural peat fire.
Someone had torched the place, plainly meaning to destroy the excavation site-and anyone here.
Rachel walked her pony next to Gray, keeping a firm grip on her reins. Her mount's eyes rolled white, on the edge of panic. Rachel looked no less scared.