Altar of Eden (16 page)

In the darkness, Lorna stumbled away from the necropsy table and hit a warm body. Arms caught her, held her. She knew it was Jack by the musky mix of sweat and iodine.

Light bloomed on the far side of the table as Zoë freed her cell phone and used the light of the screen to push back the darkness. The phone wasn’t good for much else. The storm had knocked out the area’s cell tower—not that they had good service here anyway.

They all gathered closer to the phone’s glow like moths to a flame.

Carlton stood with his hands on his hips, maintaining his usual aplomb. “Agent Menard, what makes you think this is some form of attack versus a power glitch?”

Jack answered swiftly and forcefully. “Until I know better, Dr. Metoyer, I’m assuming the worst. Whoever firebombed that trawler could be coming after the remaining animals. That chip removed from the cub looked like a tracking tag, one that could lead them here.”

“That’s a stretch, Agent Menard,” Carlton dismissed. “Besides, who would go through so much effort?”

Lorna felt the tension in Jack’s body, which had gone rock hard. He still hadn’t let her go. Her brother eyed her with a dour expression. Under Kyle’s judgmental gaze, she finally slipped out of Jack’s arms on her own.

“Maybe we should listen to the agent,” Zoë said as she retreated next to her husband. “Take precautions. What could it hurt?”

All faces turned to Jack.

“This room has no windows,” he said. “Which means it’s a blind spot to any surveillance of the facility. Just to be cautious, everyone should stay here while I check out what’s going on.”

Greer spoke up. “What about just leaving?” He pointed to the far side of the room. “There’s a service ramp that leads out from here.”

“No. They’d have the place surrounded by now. The exit would be watched.”

“Then what do we do?” Zoë asked, her fear growing as large as her eyes.

“For now, you all hole up down here. Is there some place to keep out of sight, maybe barricade?”

“The walk-in cooler,” the pathologist said. “But there’s no way to lock it from the inside.”

Kyle spoke up. “Let me look at it. After spending four years in engineering school, I should be able to finagle a way to secure it from the inside.”

Jack nodded. “Good. Then everyone else grab weapons. Scalpels, knives, scissors, syringes, whatever you can find and retreat there. I’m going to make for my truck. I have a rifle and a shotgun in a lockbox out there.”

Greer had found a pair of emergency flashlights, clicked one on, and passed the other to Jack. “In case you need it.”

The group began to disperse under the pathologist’s direction, gathering anything sharp.

Lorna followed Jack out of the circle of light and into the gloom as he headed toward the door. A small battery-powered “Exit” sign glowed weakly above the doorway ahead.

“What about my tranquilizer gun?” she said. “The one I went hunting with. I dropped it back at my office. It’s closer than going outside.”

She didn’t want Jack confronting some assault team while totally unarmed.

He nodded. “Good idea.”

“I’ll go with you.” She knew Jack would argue, so she pressed. “It takes skill to safely load the syringe cartridges with M99.”

And it did. Just a few drops could kill a man in seconds.

Still, he seemed ready to balk.

“I’ll go just as far as the office,” she promised. “It’s only one flight up. Then I’ll head straight back here.” She passed him and reached the door before he could stop her. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

She pulled open the door, but he blocked her from stepping out. She was ready for him to push back, to refuse to let her go. Instead, he slipped out ahead of her.

“Keep behind me. No talking.”

She followed his broad back into the hallway. As the door closed the hallway went pitch-black. Jack reached and fumbled for her hand. His grip was huge, rough with calluses. But his hard hold helped settle her in the darkness. He led her in the direction of the nearby stairwell.

Why doesn’t he use his flashlight?

They reached the dark stairs and began to ascend. Faint light filtered as they neared the first floor landing. Windows let in some meager glow from the stars. After the pitch darkness below, even this little bit of illumination was welcome.

He continued down the hall. Her office and lab were only a few doors down. Halfway there, a muffled crash echoed, sounding like it came from the front of the building. Her fingers tightened on Jack’s hand. No one else was supposed to be here.

Jack hurried toward her office door. He pushed it open, swung an arm out, and scooped her into the room ahead of him. She rushed inside as he softly closed the door. Framed against the frosted glass of the door’s window, she saw him lift a finger to his lips.

She hurried to her desk, bumping her knee against it in the dark. She had left the rifle case on top of her desk. She fumbled for it, undid the latches, and quickly assembled the two halves. Marines might be able to break down their weapons in the dark, but not her. She struggled for a breath, but finally the stock snapped into place.

Behind her, Jack kept watch on the door.

She grabbed two syringe cartridges and plucked the vial of M99 from its velvet-molded compartment in the case. It was stupidly dangerous to attempt this in the dark, but she had no choice. She might not be able to assemble a rifle blindfolded, but she had years of experience with needles and drug bottles. She quickly filled the two syringes and loaded them into the rifle.

As she turned Jack’s silhouette slipped back from the window. Through the frosted glass, darker shadows swept past out in the hallway, eerily silent. She had not even heard a footfall. One shadow stopped outside the door.

Lorna froze, holding her breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Then the shadow moved on. She could guess where they were headed. The kennel ward lay in that direction. Still, they would be disappointed when they got there. They’d find mostly empty cages. While the lamb was still down there, the other rescued animals were up another level on the second floor, still caged in the genetics lab after Lorna’s testing.

But how long would it take to find the others, especially if the intruders were using electronic trackers? Would the devices even work inside?

After ten seconds, Jack crossed to her, moving unerringly in the dark. She tried to give him the rifle, but he pushed it back into her chest. His words were a breath against her ear. “Stay here. Stay hidden.”

He squeezed her fingers tighter to the rifle, communicating silently.

She understood.

The game had changed. What was a possibility before was now a terrifying reality. They were under siege. He refused to leave her unarmed while alone. From the firm grip on her fingers, this was one argument she wasn’t going to win.

He didn’t wait for any acknowledgment and moved back toward the office door. He eased the door open and slipped out. Once in the hall, he pulled the door silently closed.

Lorna stared at his silhouette out there, suddenly not wanting him to leave. But Jack had no choice. His shadow retreated, heading in the opposite direction from the intruders.

But how many more were out there?

JACK HATED LEAVING
Lorna alone, but he dared not wait. He hurried down the dark hall toward the nearest exit. He should never have allowed her to come with him. The others, locked up in the cooler, had the best chance of avoiding any encounter with the assault team. And he didn’t harbor any delusions that these were ordinary thieves. These were professional killers, likely with military backgrounds.

His mind ran over their potential objectives, and he didn’t like the conclusions he came to. Clearly this nighttime raid was a cleanup operation, a continuation of what was started with the trawler’s explosion. The primary objective had to be the collection and elimination of the remaining animals. But what then? How
extreme
was the order, how
thorough
a cleanup was necessary to cover their tracks?

He feared the truth.

As he reached the end of the hall, a set of swinging double doors led out to the main lobby and the front entrance. He knew better than to attempt to exit that way. He remembered how swiftly and silently the team had moved down the dark hallway. The intruders had to be employing some form of night-vision equipment, and someone was surely guarding all the exits.

Knowing that, he wanted to get as close to the parking lot before abandoning the cover of the building. Any open window would do.

Still, he wanted to know what he faced.

He edged to the double doors. A pair of narrow, wire-reinforced windows allowed him to spy into the shadowy lobby. The main entrance—a set of glass doors—lay directly opposite his position. He saw no movement, no suspicious shift of shadows inside or outside.

But he wasn’t fooled.

He began to turn away, then stopped. If it hadn’t been so dark, he might have missed it. In the center of the lobby, half hidden by a sofa, a small blinking red light drew his eye. The waxing and waning glow illuminated a five-gallon steel canister on the floor.

The hairs on the back of his neck shivered at the sight.

Bomb . . .

Jack pulled back and swallowed his fear. At least he had his answer concerning the ultimate objective of this raid. The assault team wouldn’t be satisfied with just eliminating the animals.

This was a total clean sweep.

No one was meant to survive.

Jack pictured the others hidden in the building, both those below and Lorna locked in her own office. He had felt the tremble in her body as he whispered for her to stay. She had put her trust in him, a trust now proven to be sadly misplaced. Holing up here would only get them all killed, blown up during the firestorm to come.

He had only one choice.

If it was a war they wanted . . .

Turning back to the swinging door, he shifted his weight to one leg and kicked out with the other. The door swung open, and he tossed the flashlight into the lobby while flicking it on with his thumb.

The blazing light tumbled in a wheeling arc into the pitch-dark lobby.

Jack trusted that whoever was watching this door was using night-vision scopes. He didn’t have a flash-bomb to blind naked eyes, but the sudden burning flare of the flashlight through the night-vision scopes would achieve the same end: to momentarily blind any spying eyes while at the same time drawing attention to the lobby.

Jack turned on a heel and headed to the side of the hallway, to a window that led out toward the parklike grounds between the building and the parking lot. If this was going to be a war, he needed weapons.

He yanked the window open, punched out the screen, and climbed into the bushes just outside. He ducked into cover. The distraction would only buy him a minute at most.

It would have to be enough.

He shoved through the bushes and sprinted toward the dark parking lot. Off to the side, in the direction of the front door, he heard a muffled order crack out, angry, pissed.

Jack kept low as he ran, praying the others kept their heads down, too. Especially Lorna.

But he made a mistake, underestimated his opponent.

A sharp detonation blasted behind him. Startled, he tripped on the wet grass and fell headlong. He caught himself and shoulder-rolled to the side. He stared back toward the building. Fire and smoke spat out the front of the facility. Broken glass rained down as far as Jack’s position.

He sat in the grass, stunned. They’d blown the bomb. He had only hoped to distract the others while he fled the building. Blinded, they must have feared an escape out the front door and overreacted, triggering the bomb. It was overkill, like swatting a fly with a wrecking ball.

From this response, Jack knew two things about the leader of this assault team. The bastard was ruthless and determined.

Jack rolled back to his feet and set off for his truck.

If they were to survive, he would have to be the same.

Duncan approached the fiery ruins of the facility’s main entrance. He had a gas mask held in place as he pushed through the smoke. The heat seared his face, clearly defining where nerve-dead skin ended and healthy tissue started. He evaluated the damage ahead.

The incendiary charge had sent a ball of fire and superheated air through the front of the building. Flames licked through the toxic smoke, but the charge’s concussive force was only moderate. Glass had blown out, and a part of the drop ceiling had caved in, but structurally the building remained intact. Duncan had studied the schematics of the facility. The place was built like a concrete bunker, meant to withstand hurricanes and floods. It had been a calculated risk. One charge would not knock it down.

That’s why Duncan had ordered another ten charges set around the building. His goal was not to
blast
the facility to the ground, but to
burn
it down to the foundation. Already the fires from this single charge had spread into the second level. He hadn’t planned to prematurely set off the charge. But the sudden flare of light in the lobby had blinded him. Even ripping off his night-vision goggles hadn’t dimmed the flash. It felt as if his retinas had been permanently burned. Angry and fearful that the scientists were making a break for the main exit, he had reacted on impulse and blown the charge to plug the hole here.

No one could be allowed to escape.

Reaching the doors, he stared into the fire-ravaged lobby. Smoke, swirling soot, and collapsed debris made visibility difficult. One of his men had already dismantled the building’s sprinkler and alarm systems. He searched for bodies, for whoever tried to make a break for the exit.

Half the lobby was covered in the collapsed drop ceiling. If there were bodies under there, he’d never know. Satisfied that no one could have survived the firestorm, he retreated.

Luckily this facility was remote and isolated. He doubted anyone would have spotted the brief fireball rolling into the sky. Still, the premature explosion upset his timetable, shortened it. With fires spreading, his team would have to clear out of the building sooner than projected.

Once clear of the smoke, he crossed back to his second-in-command. The man had a hand pressed to an ear, clearly listening to a report from the team inside.

Duncan waited for him to sign off, then asked, “What’s the word?”

“The team reached the kennel ward. Found one of the animals. A sheep. We decapitated it as ordered. The team has the head and is moving out.”

“What about the others?” Duncan knew from the transponders that there should be at least another four specimens.

His second shook his head. “No sign. Korey is splitting his team. Three men are heading down to the morgue. To attend to the carcasses recovered from the swamp.”

Duncan pictured the two cats.

“The other three are going to split up and canvass floor by floor, room by room. We’ll find the others.”

Duncan slowly nodded. The order from Lost Eden Cay was to salvage what they could—specifically, the skulls of the specimens—and burn the rest. It seemed the problems on Eden had been growing worse. His superiors had little patience with the mishap here. Duncan needed to perform. But it was more than that. It was a matter of pride. His blood and flesh had gone into the Babylon Project. He would not see it fail.

The animals were the intellectual property of Ironcreek Industries. What was in their skulls belonged to the company, and in turn belonged to him. He recognized that if his team couldn’t find the missing animals, the flames would still claim them. Nothing would remain. Still, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had the heads of all the animals.

Plus there remained one other objective.

“What about the scientists?” Duncan asked. “Have they secured at least one for questioning?”

Again that irritating shake of a head. “No, sir.”

Duncan sighed and kept watch on the building. He hoped he hadn’t inadvertently blown them all up, but either way, he’d know soon enough.

“Keep that net tight around the building,” Duncan said. “If Korey’s team doesn’t flush them out of hiding, the fires soon will.”