Twenty steps up, she came to another door. Like the first it was locked. But now, she didn’t have the gun. She took a lungful of air and swung out from the ladder and kicked the door with all the leverage she could manage.
This time, the latch snapped off.
Lindsey edged the thick metal door open, and found she was standing in a small utility room. Light came in here:
the bright light from the production room!
She checked her watch: 12:40 A.M. Barely twenty minutes had passed since she’d entered the airlock.
And when she walked forward and opened the next unlocked door, she was standing right in the middle of the large, open production wing.
Gigantic machines hummed and buzzed and moved with automated precision. They were filtering thousands of blue pills along a huge conveyer belt to a bottling and capping machine. Lindsey recognized what they were immediately.
Bliss.
Still holed up in his office,
Stephen Vetter’s mind churned. There was something bothering him. As he sat at his desk and mulled over the events of the last two days he had become increasingly anxious. If he was right, he knew he’d have to act fast or his whole world would come crashing down.
With a quick succession of keystrokes called up the security video of the Imec building. When he got menu option, he clicked on “LAST 48 HOURS.” Although the security guard had failed to identify the two women he saw break in the previous night, Vetter had little doubt that one of them was Lindsey Walsh.
But who was the other?
He fast-forwarded the tape till he found the approximate time of the break in: 11:45 p.m. An image appeared on the screen of the south entrance of the Imec compound. The image was blurred. Someone had apparently tampered with the surveillance camera and smeared something on it. As Vetter continued to watch, suddenly two figures emerged in the frame. He zoomed in and froze the image. He then transferred the image from his computer screen to one of the large flat screen monitors he had on the wall.
There...
there it is!
He was right.
Stephen Vetter had been betrayed before, but this time stung particularly bad. The one person he thought he could count on for her loyalty had fooled him. And all the time he thought he was the one playing her for a fool. Vetter walked closer to the screen and sighed. There, as plain as day, running out of the building, was Lindsey Walsh. And along with her,
Katherine Blair.
So it
was
her.
As Vetter felt his pangs of betrayal turn to anger, something caught his attention on the other side of his console. A red light was flashing, indicating a security breech. Vetter puzzled for a moment.
What the fuc...
Someone was breaking into the production facility!
Lindsey’s heart raced. A catwalk
on her left gave way to a metal stairway that wound like a DNA helix down to the production floor. Standing with her head thrown back, she could see all the way across the huge complex. It was at least a 100 feet long and 50 feet wide. The room literally bristled with high tech equipment, the likes of which Lindsey had never seen. Robotic arms moved like a giant sea anemone, sorting bottles and placing labels on them as they moved down a conveyer belt.
She raised her eyes to the large picture window above the equipment. She recognized Pete Brewster poised behind the digital displays of the control panel.
Thank God.
Someone that can help me.
Lindsey raced across the narrow catwalk, toward the high, sweeping stairs. She took them in long strides. Her leg was still bleeding, her knee racked with pain. The metal rungs clanged under her feet, and her heart was in her throat. The pressurized air was cold and sterile, and smelled of pungent chemicals. She stumbled once and swore, then swore again as she regained her footing. Lindsey didn’t waste a second. She hurried down the last few steps and stopped.
Now at last, Brewster saw her.
Suddenly, the production line came to an abrupt halt, and the airlock doors of the control room hissed open.
“What are you doing down there?” Brewster shouted.
Lindsey cupped her hands around her mouth. “It’s me, Pete. Lindsey Walsh.”
Brewster, momentarily confused, pulled off his lab glasses and squinted his eyes. “Ms. Walsh... is that you?”
“Yes. Can you help me?” Lindsey’s voice echoed across the cavernous room.
Brewster hurried across the catwalk to within a few feet of Lindsey. “You’re not hurt are you?”
“Just some scrapes and bumps, but I’ll be okay. I know this looks crazy, and I don’t have time to explain, but I need your help.”
Brewster nodded. “Sure anything.”
Lindsey gazed around and saw that a side door was ajar, leading downstairs to the underground level where they installed the supply lines. “Pete, those pipes downstairs, where do they lead to?”
“They’re mostly outtake pipes and waste water. They end at the filtration station to get cleaned and recycled into drinking water.”
“Drinking water for...”
“Indian Springs,” Brewster said.
“Lindsey felt a shudder run through her. “How can we shut that off?”
“Easy, there’s a valve at the main junction. Is there some problem?”
“Yes, Pete and I need you to shut that valve off right away.”
“Sure, Ms. Walsh.”
“And I also need you to keep the production line closed down until further notice.”
Brewster frowned. “Wait a minute now. Shutting off a water line is one–“
”Pete, if you don’t, people are going to die!”
“Vetter gave me specific instructions to run at full production for the next 48 hours. He’ll have my head if I stop it. Did you say, die?”
Lindsey could see Brewster was skeptical. But he wiped his brow and listened. “Vetter is a madman,” she said, “if we don’t stop him, everyone who takes this drug is going to have horrible consequences. Please, do this for me.”
Suddenly, the production line sprang to life. The robotic arms began to swing into their programmed modes. Lindsey looked at Brewster. His mouth was agape and he swallowed hard.
“How the hell did that–“
As Brewster turned, one of the long robotic arms swung around and smashed into him at head level and opened a huge gash on his temple. His skull clanged against the massive arm and sent him reeling. Seconds later, another arm grabbed his torso and began to pull him backwards.
“Help me,”
he sobbed.
“He... lp... me, Ms. Walsh, plea... se....
Before Lindsey could move, the monster arm threw Brewster into the compression machine, head first. The gigantic press came down on his skull and he bellowed as it crushed bone and tissue into one-dimensional mush. A jolt of terror shot through Lindsey and she turned back toward the window of the control room.
Then she saw it.
Standing behind the digital readouts, another man, tall and blond, was smiling maniacally.
Stephen Vetter.
And now, the big robotic arm was rushing right toward Lindsey!
The elevator was 150 feet away.
Lindsey bolted, vaulting over the lowest limbs of the octopus, ducking beneath the chest-high sections. She glanced back and couldn’t see Vetter through the maze of arms and machinery. But she heard him shouting, and she heard the pounding of his feet close behind.
“Give it up, Lindsey. You can’t get out of here.”
With unflinching resolve, Lindsey headed for the open cage of the elevator, dead ahead.
I’m going to make it!
At that moment, Lindsey stumbled over one of the arms and went sprawling. She slid across the floor and slammed against a support beam. A dagger of pain shot through her as she scrambled quickly to her feet again. She didn’t dare look back now. Vetter was right behind her and gaining.
She flew toward the elevator, ducked one final pipe, then looked again. Vetter was already there.
Shit!
Somehow he had beaten her there.
Now he stood in the open cage,
grinning.
He called. “Give up yet?”
Lindsey knew she couldn’t get past him. It was no use. Vetter was athletic and quick as a cheetah. Suddenly, he was nearly in front of her. She jumped over a pipe, stepped around an electrical box, and ducked down. As Vetter jumped the pipe, Lindsey slammed her elbow upward between his legs. He howled and went down, rolling on the floor in agony. She stopped and kicked him in the head as hard as she could. “That’s for Pete Brewster, you asshole.”
She ran.
At the elevator, Vetter had turned off the power.
She didn’t know where the control box was, and she didn’t have time to look. Vetter was moving around again. He raised his head.
“You bitch! I’m gonna kill you... fucking bitch.”
Lindsey tore out of the elevator and started climbing the ladder on the wall.
Vetter screamed. “Come back here... fucking bitch.”
It was difficult climbing, because her hands were raw; each rung burned her palms like a white-hot rivet. Lindsey focused on the pain. She panicked at heights and didn’t want to look down. She couldn’t see what was dragging at her legs, pulling her back toward the floor. She kicked, but whatever it was held onto her.
Finally, she turned to look. She was ten feet above the ground. Two rungs beneath her, Vetter had his free arm locked around her legs, his hand clutching her ankle. He jerked at her feet, and yanked them off the rung. Lindsey slid for an instant and then felt a burst of searing pain in her hands. But she held on.
Vetter was smiling grimly. Lindsey kicked her legs backward, trying to hit his face, but it was futile. He had both legs locked tight against his chest. His strength was amazing. She kept trying until she realized that she could pull one leg up and free. She did, and stomped down on his hand that was holding the rung. He squealed, and released her legs to hold on to the ladder with his other hand. She stomped again–and kicked straight back, catching him right under the chin. He slid down five rungs, then caught himself.
He hung there, near the bottom of the ladder.
Suddenly, the elevator came to life and Lindsey heard the doors clang shut.
Someone else was here!
Maybe Katherine and Detective,
what’s his name?
Maybe one of Vetter’s cronies?
She wasn’t taking any chances. She looked up at the long expanse of ladder above her.
Keep going.
Dan Warren’s heart raced as
he sprinted toward the fire exit. He could hear Lindsey Walsh screaming somewhere below them.
He’d watched the nightmare in the production room unfold before his eyes. Vetter’s security cameras had caught every gruesome detail. Neither he nor Katherine Blair could speak, so appalled were they at Vetter’s callousness.
He knew that they could put the fruits of scientific research to good or evil use, and Vetter had chosen the latter.
“Hey!” Yelled one of the security guards, seeing Warren approach the restricted area. He dashed toward Warren and grabbed his arm. “You can’t go down there.”
“Police,” Warren said, and flashed the man his badge.
To Warren’s surprise, the man stepped squarely in front of him. “Vetter told me about you,” the guard said.
Warren put his hand on the man’s face and shoved him backwards. It surprised the guard, and he fell to one knee. Warren reached around for the door, and the security guard pulled a knife from his boot and flicked it open. A flash of light glinted off its razor surface.
“Stop!” Katherine Blair screamed. The man turned when he heard her.
Warren smiled. Katherine was pointing a gun right at the man’s head.
“Good thing I gave you that,” Warren said.
The guard turned back and Warren kicked him hard in the chin. He whimpered in agony and crumpled to his side.
“You okay?” Katherine asked.
“Fine. You get the FBI?”
“They’re on the way. Where’s Lindsey?”
“Down there. With Vetter.”
Lindsey was twenty feet above
the floor. Feeling as if she was hanging from a cliff face, she looked down to see Vetter still pursuing her, but he was far behind. She didn’t think he could catch her, and then, a blast of swirling water came up through the air toward her, spiraling like a corkscrew–and knocked her halfway off the ladder. She looked down and saw Vetter, closer now and fighting to steady the high-pressure fire hose.
Doesn’t this guy ever quit?
He held on with one arm wrapped around the rungs, with the hose gripped tightly in his other hand.
“I’m gonna get you, Walsh, no matter what!”
He sounded completely insane.
Lindsey turned to climb again, and a jet of water slammed hard against her body with a blistering impact. A searing lance of pain knocked the wind out of her and she fought to retain her balance. She felt as though it was pounding her ribs into her chest cavity. Her grip loosened from the ladder, and she barely managed to hang on, as another blast smashed against her. She ducked and dodged, grunting in pain, and kept going, despite the impacts.
The water had enough force to hurt her, but not enough to knock her from the ladder.
Vetter must have realized it, too, because now Lindsey saw he had turned off the hose temporarily, and was climbing faster, trying to get close enough to knock her off.
Then the water started again. Vetter hit Lindsey’s head with a blast so hard she felt like her scalp would fly off. She was totally blind and could see nothing at all. It was as if she was in a Category Five hurricane. She groped for the next rung on the ladder, and the next after that. Pinpricks stung her face and neck, the pain becoming more intense, sharper.
She kept on.
She climbed in darkness.
And then, she felt Vetter pulling at her legs again. And in that moment, finally, Lindsey didn’t see how she could go on.
She was twenty-five feet in the air, hanging onto a ladder for dear life, soaked to the bones, with God knows what above her, and Vetter below pulling and trying to kill her. Lindsey was exhausted and could feel her remaining energy draining away. Her fingers were so shaky on the rungs; she couldn’t hold her grip much longer.