“Larry, you hold the door from the inside, watch our backs and keep the line of retreat open. Remember everyone: the civilians are non-hostile unless proven otherwise. Don’t get twitchy.” Zeke pulled the end of a sheaf of zip cuffs out of his cargo pocket, easy to grab. He then took off his gloves. So did Daniel. They were trained to shoot with gloves on, but anything delicate, such as threading a zip cuff or sticking in an IV, required tactile feedback.
“Spooky in position.”
“Skull in position.”
“Vinny in position,” came a faint sardonic voice.
Daniel strangled a laugh. He’d hate to be Vinny, just listening back at the motel, but someone had to do it. He took a deep breath, and tried to reassure himself, his twitchy conscience, that he wasn’t out for blood. A part of him felt like a total pussy for worrying about such things; a part of him was proud.
***
Elise sat staring at her screen as the machines in the lab ran more useless experiments, modeling drugs that might mitigate some of the virtue effect. She studied the data on her computer screen, the results of her latest batch. Nothing new. No progress. Part of the problem was that most of the new designer drugs were, of course, made to make the user feel good.
Durgan wanted something that made people feel evil and like it. Or feel nothing.
Something like that.
Dammit, I’m a microbiologist, not a neuroscientist. Roger is a virologist and Arthur is an epidemiologist. We need a couple of dozen specialists to do what he wants. But Durgan’s not listening.
She paced the floor absentmindedly chewing her nails then walked over to the small kitchenette in the corner of the lab and poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. Caffeine. Maybe that would help her think. Maybe she’d rather not.
As she stirred in her usual teaspoon of cream and two packs of sugar she inhaled the comforting aroma and her mind wandered back in time. Funny how scents and smells are often so vividly connected to memories.
When she was a girl the wonderful smells of coffee, bacon and toast would wake her from her slumber every morning. She would head into the kitchen to find her father sitting in his usual place at the table eating breakfast and reading the morning paper. Sneaking up from behind she’d scare him with a loud “boo.” He would always play along, clutching at his chest as if she had frightened him, then he’d scoop her up with a reassuring hug and kiss. I really miss you, Dad.
She thought about her father, a good man, solid, loving, dependable, honorable, and her thoughts turned again to Daniel. I know deep down Daniel is all of those things, too. She wondered where he was and if he was thinking of her at that moment.
***
“Execute.” Zeke pushed the door smoothly open, and Larry crossed the thirty feet or so to the unlocked door where Spooky had been so recently. They followed right behind, and Larry opened the door quickly, drawing it out of their way so all they had to do was go straight in.
They entered in two-man tactical stack. That meant Zeke was in front, Daniel slightly crouched right behind him with his left upper arm firmly pressed into Zeke’s back, so Zeke knew where he was. Daniel held his M4 to the right and down, covering the right side. His eyes swept the hallway automatically, center-up-right-down and back to center in a fraction of a second, the barrel of his weapon following in a tight circle. Zeke did the same on his left, and they heard the click of the door behind them as Larry closed and locked it from the inside, then took a knee.
They needed to get out of the hallway as fast as possible, to let Larry dominate it with his street-sweeper, and to give him a covered position. They took the first door on the left as planned. Daniel stayed stacked behind Zeke as Zeke reached out with his left hand to try the door. It opened into a tiny closet with cleaning supplies. Daniel turned and waved Larry forward. This would be his best position, allowing a right-handed shooter like him to keep good cover and still lash the hallway with heavy fire.
The plan was to stay to the left side of the hallway. They might find doors between rooms, and they wanted to avoid causing confusion if Larry had to start firing. Crossing and recrossing the hallway unnecessarily to opposite doors was asking for trouble. So they moved along the left side of the hallway to the next door on the left, passing a solid steel door on the right. Larry would have to cover that.
Zeke tried the handle. It was locked. They could call Spooky in to try to pick the lock, or they could break in.
Sticking to the plan, Zeke decided to break in as quietly as possible. The building was filled with the low rumble of the generator and the rushing sound of the air system, so there was a good chance they could get away with it.
Zeke pulled a crowbar out of the small of his back, where he’d had it taped. He fit it between the door handle and the jamb, leaning his weight on it slowly until it popped with a muffled clang.
***
Elise thought she heard a noise. It’s probably just Miguel doing a security check of the building. Damnit, I hope he doesn’t come in here and bother me again. She checked her watch. 3:17 a.m. No, Miguel went off duty over an hour ago, he’ll be fast asleep, Karl’s on watch now.
When no one materialized in the doorway she shrugged to herself, figuring it was just the sound of the building settling or the wind. She finished her coffee, rinsed her cup and set it on the counter. With renewed energy she returned to her station and began another drug model run. Beta blockers. Who knows, might have some effect.
***
Zeke immediately shoved the door open and swept the left side of the room. Daniel followed him in and swept the right. Each of them moved to their sides, out of the death funnel of the doorway.
A dark figure on the lower bunk of two rolled heavily out, tangled in blankets. “Wha-” they heard before Zeke stepped forward and gave him a left-handed whack on the head with the crowbar. The man dropped to the thin-carpeted floor like a sack of potatoes.
The room was lit only by the dimness of the corridor and the green numbers of a clock-radio on a night table. It read 3:17.
Perfect. Daniel poked the upper bunk with the barrel of his weapon, finding no one and nothing there but bedding.
Zeke whipped out zip cuffs and hog-tied the fallen man, then taped his mouth shut. He popped a pillowcase over the man’s head, then taped that loosely around his neck.
Daniel checked his pulse. Good and strong. Zeke knows his club work.
“One hostile neutralized,” Zeke reported over the net.“Still quiet.”
Daniel hoped that was true, and he hoped it stayed that way. He rolled the man under the bunk bed, out of the way. If he was smart, he would stay there until it was all over.
There was a door with a mirror on it in the wall to the right. Logically that would be a bathroom or closet. Zeke reported quietly, “Interior door. Opening.” It was a closet, with some security uniforms and civvies in it. The wall at the back seemed solid, made of the same thin industrial steel construction as the rest of the building. Too bad. If it had been drywall they might have tried to breach it through to the next room.
“Emerging left,” Zeke called, and they moved back into the corridor. It was going to get harder fast, because the next door on the right had a big square window in the top half, with wire mesh inside, the kind designed to let people look into the room before entering. Or vice versa. But this window was dark, and they hoped that meant unoccupied. The next one up on the right was lit.
Their door to the left was not going to be as simple as the last one. There was an external deadbolt fitted, like an afterthought. Maybe it was meant to keep something in, not out. They retreated back to the room they were in before, and spoke in low tones.