The Genesis Code (24 page)

Subbasement, Level C
Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

Madison froze in the darkened hallway and listened intently. For a moment, all he heard was the faint sound of an alarm from the floor above.

Then there were footsteps.

In his flight to escape from Crowe, Madison had lost his bearings in the maze of corridors and passageways in the subbasement. In the utilitarian hallways and rooms beneath the Millennium Tower, there were no signs to direct him toward an exit, and no windows or other visual cues to orient himself.

Madison’s thoughts turned to Grace, alone in the subbasement, trying to make her way out of the building. Guilt weighed heavily on his conscience for leaving Grace by herself to find her way to safety.

He couldn’t bear the pain of her loss. Not that kind of pain. Not again.

Justin was a ghost of a child, lying thin and frail under the starched white sheets of a hospital bed. A tangle of tubes and wires crisscrossed his chest, connecting his dying body with IV bags, monitors, and machines.

The monotonous beep of a heart monitor ticked off the passage of seconds. Christian Madison sat at his bedside, gently holding his son’s hand.

Most of time, Justin didn’t seem to know what was happening. He stared straight ahead, his eyes glassy and vacant. His breathing was labored. At times, the rise and fall of his chest would stop completely. He would make a small gurgling sound, swallow, and then his breathing would start again.

The sound of footsteps came again, closer this time.

More than one person,
thought Madison.

They were close, and coming closer.

Madison tried to spot a place to hide. The only door in his immediate vicinity was locked. The smooth walls of the hallway afforded no protection.

The yellow oval of a flashlight beam flickered around the corner in the hallway ahead.

Too late.

Madison tensed, readying himself for either fight or flight.

The flashlight beam swept around the corner, momentarily blinding Madison. He crouched down, squinting at the figures behind the bright light.

“Christian?” asked the figure holding the flashlight.

Quiz lowered the flashlight, pointing the beam away from Madison.

“Thank God,” said Madison. “I don’t think I have any fight left in me.”

“You look like hell,” said Quiz, grinning.

“You should talk,” said Madison.

“How’s the arm?” asked Quiz.

A makeshift bandage around Madison’s arm was soaked with blood. His face was ashen. Dark hair was matted against his forehead.

“I’ve been better,” he said. “But at least the bleeding seems to have stopped.”

Madison noticed that Quiz was gripping his left hand, rubbing his right thumb against his left palm. The fingers of his left hand arched backward in an involuntary muscle spasm.

“Quiz, you okay?” asked Madison.

Quiz nodded. His eyes darted back and forth. “I think so. But I don’t have my pills.”

Madison looked at his watch.

“We have to get out of here,” said Madison. “Do you know a way out?”

“Yes,” said Quiz. “Well, maybe. I’m not that familiar with this part of the subbasement. But I think I can get us back to the server farm. From there we can make it to street level.”

“Let’s go,” said Madison. “We’re running out of time.”

Subbasement, Level C
Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

Five minutes later, Quiz led Madison and Ambergris to a steel door leading into the Triad Genomics computer core. His security badge triggered the locking mechanism on the door with an audible click.

“We’re back at the server farm,” said Quiz, looking over his shoulder at Madison. His forehead was covered with tiny beads of sweat.

Quiz opened the door and the trio walked through. Inside the server farm, the temperature was a good fifteen degrees colder, with almost no humidity. Evaporative condensers removed the moisture from the air to protect the sensitive processors and machinery.

Quiz pointed across the room, beyond the rows of tall black servers interconnected by a tangle of colored cables and wires.

“The door we want is there.”

Fifty yards away, a nondescript door marked
EXIT
beckoned from the opposite wall. Flashing red security beacons pulsed in the darkness.

“Let’s move,” said Madison.

Quiz edged toward the center of the room.

Walking closely behind with an unsteady Ambergris in tow, Madison almost plowed into Quiz when he stopped abruptly. Madison lowered his voice to a whisper and scanned the room for any signs of danger.

“What is it?”

Quiz turned around. His face was a mask of fear. Sweat streamed down his forehead.

“I think I’m in trouble…”

His speech became garbled and Quiz’s eyelids began to flutter. With a loud clack, his jaw snapped shut. The muscles in Quiz’s neck bulged as they tightened involuntarily.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Ambergris.

Madison released his hold on Ambergris’ arm and took a step toward Quiz.

“He’s having a seizure,” said Madison. “Sit down if you feel unsteady on your feet, Dr. Ambergris.”

Quiz’s body convulsed and his back arched uncontrollably. Madison grabbed him in a bear hug, and gently eased Quiz off his feet to the floor.

“What should I do?” asked Ambergris. “How can I help?”

“It should pass,” said Madison. “We just have to wait it out and try to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

As Madison lowered Quiz to the floor, Quiz’s head jerked back and forth violently. Madison tried to cradle Quiz’s head in his hands to keep it from striking the concrete floor.

Quiz cried out—a loud, terrible wail.

Crowe silently stalked the hallways around Quiz’s office near the Triad Genomics server farm. He reasoned that Quiz, when confronted with a threat, would try and make it back to familiar territory. Dr. Ambergris would be with him.

A faint cry echoed down the hallway.

How very predictable.

Crowe raised his weapon and sprinted in the direction of Quiz’s cries.

Subbasement, Level C
Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

Madison struggled to keep Quiz’s flailing body from smashing into anything.

“See if you can find something to put under his head. Anything soft,” said Madison.

Ambergris surveyed the room for a blanket or a piece of insulation. Anything.

“I don’t see anything…”

Quiz coughed violently, sending a spray of pinkish red foam across Madison’s face. A rivulet of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth.

“Shouldn’t you put something in his mouth, like a spoon or something, to keep him from biting off his tongue?” asked Ambergris.

Quiz’s legs thrashed wildly.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He could break his teeth if we try to cram something into his mouth.”

Quiz’s right arm shot up and smacked Madison in the face.

“Christian…,” said Ambergris.

“Trust me, dammit,” said Christian. “We just have to wait it out. It will—”

“No,” interrupted Ambergris. “It’s not about that.”

There was panic in his voice.

“Someone’s coming.”

Subbasement, Level C
Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

Quiz rolled onto his side and curled into the fetal position, limbs twitching, as Crowe stormed into the climate-controlled chamber housing the Triad Genomics server.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Crowe, leveling his 9mm at Madison’s crouched figure.

“Seizure,” said Madison. “He has epilepsy.”

“Shame.”

Crowe shifted his eyes to Dr. Ambergris and smiled.

A red dot appeared on Ambergris’ forehead.

“How’s the arm, Doc?”

“Fuck you.”

Crowe’s smile vanished and his eyes narrowed.

“Run,” yelled Madison at Dr. Ambergris.

Ambergris slowly shook his head.

“I won’t die running away from the likes of him. I’d rather take it in the face than in the back.”

“As you wish,” said Crowe.

Crowe stilled his breathing and applied pressure to the trigger.

The fog began to lift from Quiz’s mind. His body ached terribly, muscles screaming in protest. The floor was cold and hard against his face.

His eyelids fluttered open. Indistinct shapes swam in his field of vision.

“Christian?” His voice was a raspy whisper.

As his eyes began to focus on a figure across the room, a shot rang out. Then a scream.

Madison watched helplessly as Ambergris stared into Crowe’s eyes, facing down his executioner. Quiz stirred on the floor beside him, mumbling his name.

Behind Crowe, the door silently swung open and a darkly clad Asian man edged through the narrow opening.

A long, thin knife glinted in his hand.

Grace followed Arakai through the door into the Triad Genomics computer core. As her mind registered the scene within, Arakai drew his knife.

Before Crowe could react, Arakai leapt into the air onto Crowe’s back, driving the knife down into soft flesh at the base of his neck, severing Crowe’s carotid artery with a vicious twist of the blade.

Blood spurted from the gaping wound.

Screaming, Crowe pulled the trigger of his 9mm.

Ambergris watched in amazement as Arakai leapt onto Crowe’s back, plunging a knife into the side of his neck. Crowe cried out in shock and pain, his knees buckling beneath him. Dark arterial blood jetted from the base of his neck.

Crowe squeezed the trigger and fired.

The shot went wide, slamming into the server next to Ambergris in a shower of sparks. Bullet fragments ricocheted off the ruined metal housing of the server, tearing into his chest and shoulder. Ambergris screamed as he fell to the ground.

Crowe fell hard, the weight of Arakai’s body driving him to the floor. He hit the ground chest first, his limp arms making no effort to break the fall.

And then Crowe was still, the crackling buzz of electricity from the ruined server filling the air, a widening pool of blood beneath Crowe’s lifeless body staining the concrete floor.

Hidden in a van in the lower level of the parking garage above, a digital timing mechanism ticked away the seconds toward detonation.

Subbasement, Level C
Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

“Help me with Ambergris,” said Madison. His right shirtsleeve stuck to his arm, soaked with blood.

Grace unbuckled her belt and pulled it off.

“You’re not going to get very far unless we stop that bleeding,” she said, wrapping the leather belt around his upper arm and pulling it tight.

Madison grunted in pain. His vision blurred, then cleared as the pain subsided.

“You take his other side,” he said, putting Ambergris’ arm around his shoulders to help support his weight.

Together, Madison and Quiz carried Ambergris toward the corridor leading to the exit. Grace led the way, running just ahead of them, watching the time tick away on her watch.

“Faster!” she yelled, urging them to pick up speed.

Madison’s arm screamed in pain as they finally reached the exit to ground level. Grace slammed open the door, and sunlight streamed into the darkened hallway.

Outside in the street, police and emergency vehicles had cordoned off a perimeter around the Millennium Tower. Flashing lights and police barricades blocked the streets and sidewalks. A ring of officers in body armor, helmets, and riot shields guarded the perimeter.

“Help us!” cried Grace. “We need help!”

Several police officers in body armor ran from the police line and sprinted across the pavement.

One of the policemen grabbed Dr. Ambergris in a fireman’s carry, hoisting him over a broad shoulder. Another placed an arm around Madison’s waist, helping him to stand on trembling legs. Together, the group sprinted toward the perimeter of barricades and flashing lights.

Subbasement, Level C
Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

Grace glanced back at the Millennium Tower as she ran past the police barricades. She stumbled and began to fall, slipping from the grasp of the policeman. A young woman in an orange vest reached out, grabbed Grace by the arm, and kept her from falling to the ground.

“I’ve got you,” said Jennifer, slipping an arm around Grace’s waist. Together, they ran across the pavement toward a line of police cars and emergency vehicles.

In the back of the van parked in the lower level of the parking garage, a timing device ticked away its last remaining second. As the display on the digital timer hit zero, it sent an electric impulse down two thin wires to a detonator.

A tremendous explosion shattered the windows of the first eight floors of the Millennium Tower, blasting out a billowing cloud of smoke.

Police officers and civilians alike dove to the ground, covering their heads and diving behind anything that would provide shelter from the explosion.

A rolling fireball erupted from the Millennium Tower in a swirl of fiery orange and yellow. Glass, concrete, and debris filled the air. Clouds of thick smoke darkened the sky and blotted out the sun.

The shock wave from the explosion ripped through the concrete structural support columns in the parking garage at a rate of three thousand feet per second.

Shards of metal and concrete pounded against the pavement of the street like tiny missiles, ricocheting off its surface. Windows in the surrounding buildings shattered and imploded from the concussive blast. The deafening roar of the shock wave drowned out all sounds.

When the sky finally stopped raining glass and debris on downtown Manhattan, the Millennium Tower had disappeared, collapsing inward on itself and into the massive crater left by the explosion.