Joe Ledger: Code Zero Part 52

Bug sent another picture to our screens. A bookish Indian woman with a rather severe ponytail and thick gla.s.ses. "The senior researcher on duty was Dr. Noor Jehan. She and Van Sant are the only ones who had the day code to access all of the secure areas. But Dr. Jehan hasn't made any attempt to reach out, or at least no successful attempt."

Lydia popped her chewing gum. "Y'know, Bug, no offense, but I'm finding it hard to believe that you can't find a way into their computer systems."

Bug cursed. A rarity for him, and it wasn't aimed at Lydia. It was simply that he was deeply frustrated.

"I know," said Bug sourly, "but it's like trying to push your finger through a solid brick wall. No doors, no windows, no nothing. We're completely shut out."

"MindReader's shut out," said Lydia, not making a question of it. Putting it out there so we could all chew on it and everything it might mean. "You're breaking my heart, Bicho."

Bug sniffed. "We just found out that this was Artie Bliss. I'm shifting mental gears as fast as I can." He paused and maybe there was some edge to his voice. "Don't get me wrong, kids, I will beat this bruja."

He used the Spanish word for "witch" for Lydia's benefit.

"Bug," I said, "give me the floor plan of the Locker."

A 3D model of the place a.s.sembled itself on our screens.

Bug said, "The Locker is built into an old coal mine that played out in the seventies. Government bought it and Mr. Church acquired it when he founded the DMS. The top level has two parts, administration offices in the back and a tractor parts store up front. The store's legit insofar as they actually sell tractor parts, but the staff's ours, of course. Lots of b.u.t.tons to push if anyone tries to rush the place."

"Any of those b.u.t.tons get pushed?" asked Ivan.

"Not a one."

"Donkey b.a.l.l.s," he said.

Bug highlighted elements of the schematic as he continued. "Once you go past the store, there are a series of security doors. Outer level is keycard, but beyond that you hit doors with retina scans, geometry palm scanners, and variable-signal keycards. You go through those to get to the elevators, and there's a drop of three quarters of a mile. Halfway down, on level two, are the crew quarters. The labs and containment facilities are all on levels three through seven, with the highest-security chambers at the bottom."

"Didn't I see this s.h.i.t on Resident Evil?" complained Lydia. "I mean, this is the f.u.c.king Umbrella Corporation right here."

"You aren't joking," Bug said. "You'd be surprised how many high-tech facilities show up in video games. The design team works them into popular games and then watches to see how long it takes the game geeks to think their way through. The results could make a security expert turn to heroin. Ultra-advanced no-fail designs are beaten by fourteen-year-old kids in a weekend."

"You s.h.i.tting me?" demanded Dunk.

"No. DARPA's been doing it for a long time. Homeland uses game simulations to work up protocols for terrorist attacks. Everyone does it. And Artemisia Bliss created a killer of a game called VaultBreaker that was designed to test the security of every major facility and high-profile base in the country. It was great, too, because it led to over ninety significant security improvements."

"Bliss did that?" said Montana dryly. "Anyone else getting chills?"

"We made a lot of changes after Artie was arrested," said Bug. "But now that we know it's Bliss and knowing that she might have a system like MindReader, then it's possible she really did read the data on the VaultBreaker disk Reggie Boyd gave her. A system like that could fool the anti-intrusion programs written onto the disk."

"f.u.c.k me." Montana shook her head. "So this Mother Night b.i.t.c.h could be in there waiting for us."

Bug didn't answer.

Lydia cut in. "Could VaultBreaker be used to crack the security at the Locker?"

When neither Bug nor I answered, Ivan said, "Well, kick me in the b.a.l.l.s."

Chapter Eighty-seven.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Special Pathogens Branch Building 18 Atlanta, Georgia Sunday, September 1, 11:08 a.m.

Colonel Riggs placed the laser site of his pistol on the center of Lieutenant Neale's chest.

"Stand right there, hands out to the side," he warned.

Carrie Marchman-call sign Wicked Witch-angled in from the side and took the security chief's weapon and gave him a fast pat-down. Hipster stood nearby providing cover.

"Everything's fine here," said Neale quickly. He was a nervous man with a sweaty face and bright eyes. Was it fear of what might be happening on his watch or the sudden excitement for a man whose usual day-to-day life was quiet to the point of tedium? In either case, he didn't want the man walking around with a loaded gun. Bad aim and bad intel weren't the only reasons for "friendly fire" deaths; bad nerves and bad aim accounted for a lot of it. "Really," insisted Neale, "my team did two full sweeps since receiving your call."

"This will make three, then," said Riggs.

Neale looked up at Riggs. "Are you FBI or NSA? They didn't say."

Riggs ignored the question. "Where are your people?"

"Everyone's inside. I was told to have them all meet you in the conference room."

"Good. Let's go."

They entered the building. Rico-g.a.n.g.b.a.n.ger-moved in and cut left and stood at an angle that offered a clear view of the entire room. It was a large receiving and storage room. Towers of boxed supplies stood in neat rows under the downspill of fluorescent lights. The air was cool and very dry. Gomer raised his BAMS unit and turned in a slow circle.

"Green," he said.

Riggs signaled for Hipster to walk ahead of the line with Neale while he faded back to call in. He tapped his earbud and spoke quietly. "Big Kahuna to TOC, copy?"

Aunt Sallie was managing the Tactical Operations Center with Yoda online for real-time field support. "Go for Auntie. What's your status, Big Kahuna?"

"So far it's all quiet. We're going to interview the security staff. Where are we on thermals?"

"Satellite's in position," said Yoda. "Reading two cl.u.s.ters of signatures. Group of six in the loading bay-"

"That's Shockwave plus one. How's the signal strength?"

"Spotty. Lot of shielding in that structure. Some of your signals are weak."

"What about the other cl.u.s.ter?"

"Reading seven-no, correct that, five-bodies in the first-level conference room. Wait, it's seven again. No. d.a.m.n, the signal is really fruity."

"Kick the d.a.m.n thing," said Riggs.

"It's a satellite-"

"Find a way to give me clear intel. We're expecting five friendlies. I need to know if there are two unknown signals or not."

"The other signals are gone. Might have been ghosts created by interference."

"Big Kahuna," said Aunt Sallie, "proceed with caution. We'll sort out the technical details a.s.a.p."

"Kahuna out."

He checked his BAMS unit and saw the comforting green light.

Neale produced a keycard and opened the door into the main facility, led them down a maze of empty corridors lit only by soft night lights, and finally to the door of a large conference room. The security lieutenant swiped his card and opened the door. g.a.n.g.b.a.n.ger and Hipster had their weapons up, covering the room as they entered. Five men stood inside, each wearing uniforms identical to Neale's. They all looked nervous as Shockwave team poured into the room.

No, thought Riggs. They looked scared.

The conference room was dominated by a ma.s.sive oak table and twenty chairs, the walls lined with sideboards and a coffee station. Two big black metal storage cabinets stood against the rear wall, looking incongruous, towering like obelisks.

Four things happened at exactly the same time.

Yoda was suddenly yelling in his ear. "Big Kahuna, confirmed seven signals. Repeat, confirmed there are seven signals in the conference room."

The light on the BAMS unit flicked from neutral green to a bright and burning red.

Every guard in the room tore pistols from holsters and pointed their weapons at Shockwave.

And the doors of the metal cabinets flew open as two figures burst forth, shedding lead-shielded X-ray capes.

They were Berserkers.

Then two more things happened as the moment slid into h.e.l.l.

Lieutenant Neale, still smiling his nervous smile, flung himself at Wicked Witch and buried his teeth in her cheek.

And the air was rent by the sounds of screams and gunfire.

Chapter Eighty-eight.

Virginia Airs.p.a.ce Sunday, September 1, 11:12 a.m.

"Let's not dig graves yet," said Top. He sat on an ammunition box, running his fingers through Ghost's thick fur. "Even if Mother Night is inside the Locker, that doesn't mean she's strolling through there putting important s.h.i.t into her purse. There's a thirty-man security team, and none of them are p.u.s.s.ies." He touched various points on the floor plans. "And there are airlocks at multiple points. You can't just punch in a code and waltz through. Takes some human interaction."

"So what?" asked Dunk.

"So all of that's going to take time," he said.

"Can we predict how much time?" asked Montana. "I mean, where are the labs with the pathogens?"

Top nodded. "That's my point. The Ark is all the way down at the bottom. On Level Fourteen. Something like eight airlocks between the front door and the prize."

"What's the Ark?" asked Noah.

I tapped some keys to bring up an image of a metal cylinder that looked like a portable decompression chamber. It was heavy, wrapped in bands of tempered steel and studded with ma.s.sive bolts. The thing squatted on a wheeled cradle.

"The Ark," I said, "is a special containment system in which samples of every bioweapon, pathogen, and genetically engineered disease in the world is stored. It is the single deadliest repository of biological agents anywhere on earth."

Everyone looked as pale as ghosts.

Ivan said, "Dangling gorilla b.a.l.l.s."

I expanded the image again to show the airlock that provided access to the Ark. "That's the only door that accesses Level Fourteen. It's four feet thick and armed with thermite charges that can be remote-detonated by the duty officer, the security officer, or Mr. Church. There are similar charges inside the Ark. There are also fail-safes in the event of tampering. The idea was that even if somehow the Ark was ever stolen, those charges could be set off. The door charges would seal the vault where the Ark is stored, but if the thing is removed from the vault the charges inside would incinerate everything. Even the prions in the seif-al-din would be turned to carbon dust."

"Shouldn't we just send that signal now?" asked Dunk, then he corrected himself. "I suppose that command function was lost when the place was compromised?"

"Yup," I said. "So we better all pray to G.o.d that Mother Night and her team has not breached Level Fourteen. Because believe me when I tell you that if there is a genuine entrance to h.e.l.l, then that is it."

There was a bing-bing and the pilot said, "We're here."

Chapter Eighty-nine.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Special Pathogens Branch Building 18 Atlanta, Georgia Sunday, September 1, 11:12 a.m.

Samson Riggs heard much more than he could see in those first moments.

He heard Yoda shouting in his ear, warning him of the hidden thermal signatures. He heard Aunt Sallie demanding a sit-rep. He heard gunfire as everyone in the room-the security team, the Berserkers, and his own people-opened up and created a maelstrom of tumbling lead, wood splinters, shattered gla.s.s, torn flesh, and flying blood.

He heard Wicked Witch shriek as Lieutenant Neale-if it truly was Neale-tore at her face with his teeth.

He heard the roar of the Berserkers. Ma.s.sive, ugly sounds that hurt the ears and threatened to crack the world.

And he heard his own voice.

Shouting.

Screaming.

Bullets punched him back against the edge of the door frame, but the Kevlar kept him alive. The impact was fierce, though, and black flowers bloomed all around him. Then something big and dark came at him from his left. A Berserker. Three hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and rage.

It was yesterday morning all over again. Blood and monsters. His people were dying. The world was trying to kill him.