The Hunt for Atlantis (36 page)

Frost gave her a grim smile. “I’m not planning anything, Dr. Wilde. I am already doing it.”

The airless sensation returned. “What?”

“There’s a plane on the runway across the fjord, an Airbus A380 freighter. It will take off within fifteen minutes, flying first to Paris, then on to Washington. While it is in flight, it will disperse the Trident virus into the air over Europe, then into the North Atlantic jetstream, and finally over the eastern seaboard of the United States. Our projections show that within a month, the virus will have been carried to every populated part of the planet. Everybody who does not carry the Atlantean genome will be infected.”

“And then what?” Nina whispered.

“And then …” Frost went over to the chamber, operating a control panel. The black windows depolarized, turning transparent. “This happens.”

Barely daring to look, Nina slowly stepped forward. The interior of the chamber came into view. An antiseptic white cell, bare except for a stainless-steel toilet bowl and a low bunk, on which lay …

She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. “Jonathan…”

Philby stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, the whites of his eyes stained a bloody red by ruptured blood vessels. His skin was clammy, a deathly gray, chest barely moving with each labored breath.

“He was infected yesterday,” Frost said in a chillingly matter-of-fact tone. “The Trident virus attacks the autonomic nervous system, shutting down the organs. If it runs its course as the simulations predicted, he’ll be dead within six hours.”

“Oh my God …” Nina turned away, sickened. “You can’t let him die like that. Please, you made your point—give him the antidote, the vaccine, whatever he needs.”

“There is no vaccine,” Frost said. “That would defeat its purpose. Once the virus is released, it will do what it was created to do. The only cure is death.”

“Nina,” said Kari softly, “he got exactly what he deserved. He betrayed us—he betrayed you. He sold out your parents to Qobras. And he was going to do the same thing to you. He wasn’t your friend—the only reason he looked out for you was out of guilt.”

“Nobody deserves that,” Nina replied. Kari reached up to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off angrily. “Don’t touch me.”

“Nina …”

She whirled to face them, filled with a sudden rage. “Did you think I’d go along with this … this genocide? My God! This is insane! This would be the biggest act of … of evil in human history! What kind of person do you think I am?”

“You’re one of us,” Kari insisted.

“No! I’m nothing like you! I’m not going to be a part of this!”

“That’s unfortunate,” Frost stated coldly. “Because this is a situation where either you are with us … or you are opposed to us.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m opposed to you!”

“Then you’ll die.” Frost reached into his jacket.

Time dropped into slow motion as Nina watched him pull out a sleek silver gun. The glinting barrel came around, the black hole of its muzzle pointing at her chest. She wanted to turn and run, but shock and disbelief conspired to stop her, paralyzing her legs. She saw the tendons in the back of his hand tighten, finger about to pull the trigger—

“Far! No!”

Kari shoved Frost’s arm just as he fired. The bullet whipped past Nina, hitting the wall behind her. She tried to scream, but only a choked gasp emerged.

Frost’s expression was one of barely contained fury as Kari desperately pleaded with him in Norwegian. Then his anger subsided. Slightly. “My daughter just saved your life, Dr. Wilde,” he said. “For now.”

“Nina, please,” Kari said, talking quickly, “I know you’re overwhelmed by all this, but please listen to me. I know you, I know that you’re one of us, that you think like we do. Don’t you see? You can have anything, everything if you join us. Please, just think about it rationally.”

“Rationally?” Nina gasped. “You’re planning to exterminate most of the human race, and you’re asking me to be rational about it?”

“This is useless,” said Frost. “I knew she would respond this way when she refused to kill Qobras. She’s been too indoctrinated by her society. She’ll never come around.”

“She will,” Kari insisted, a hint of desperation entering her voice. “I know she will!”

“Very well,” he said at last. “She has until the first release of the virus. If she still refuses to change her mind … then you will kill her.”

Kari gasped. “No, Far, I can’t…”

“Yes.” Frost’s face was stern. “You will. Do you understand me, Kari?”

She bowed her head. “Yes, Far.”

“Good. Then take her to the plane.”

Kari looked up in confusion. “The plane?”

“The pilot can give you a countdown to the first release of the virus. I assume you want to allow her every possible second to make the right choice?” Kari nodded. “Then you’ll both know exactly how long she has. If she refuses to change her mind, kill her and dispose of the body over the sea.”

Still keeping his gun trained on Nina, he went to a telephone and punched in a number. “Security, this is Frost. Have two men come to the Trident lab and accompany my daughter and Dr. Wilde to the airfield. Dr. Wilde is under arrest—I want her handcuffed. If she attempts to escape, kill her.” He glanced over at Kari. “Even if my daughter tells you not to. You have your orders.” He replaced the receiver.

“Am I supposed to be grateful to you for that?” Nina snarled.

“Be grateful to Kari. Be very grateful. She’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

The door slid open, two uniformed guards entering, hands on their guns. Nina offered no resistance beyond a hate-filled glare as her wrists were fastened behind her back.

“Get off in Paris and use one of the company jets to come home,” Frost told Kari as they left. “Dr. Wilde?”

“What?” she snapped.

“I hope you have enough sense to be on that return flight with Kari.”

Nina said nothing as the door clanged shut behind her.

Chase looked out of the cockpit window. Ravnsfjord lay ahead.

He hurried to the hold. “One last thing!” he said to Starkman as he hooked his parachute release line onto the ceiling rail. “Some of these people are civvies. Just ’cause they work for Frost doesn’t automatically make them targets—only shoot at anyone who’s shooting at you!”

“Always were a do-gooder, weren’t you, Eddie?” Starkman replied.

“I just don’t like killing anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“What if we run into the company lawyers?”

“That’s tempting… but still no! Okay, everyone hook up!”

Chase pushed the button to lower the Provider’s rear ramp. The plane was descending rapidly. Freezing wind blasted in with the near-deafening rasp of the plane’s engines. The office buildings passed below; coming up fast was the Frosts’ house, overlooking everything from the top of the crag, and beyond it the biolab.

The plane roared barely a hundred feet over the house, then the ground dropped away. The minimum altitude at which the parachutes would work was 250 feet, and the terrain between the house and the biolab was just far enough below …

“Jump!”

Chase threw himself out. The parachute exploded from its pack as the release line ripped free. At such a low altitude, if the chute didn’t deploy perfectly he would smash into the ground before having a chance to do anything about it.

Grass and snow and rock rushed towards him, a car heading towards the bridge over the fjord—

Sudden deceleration hit him, the chute snapping open and yanking the harness tight around his chest.

He braced himself—

Whump!

It was a bruising landing, the parachute barely having enough time to slow him to a survivable speed. He ignored the shock of impact, shrugging off the parachute as he checked his surroundings. The other parachutists were dropping around him, hitting the ground hard. Chase hoped Starkman’s men knew what they were doing. Anyone who was hurt in the landing was screwed—they didn’t have the time or the manpower to carry wounded with them.

Having dropped its passengers, the C-123 made a sharp turn, pulling up to gain altitude as it rose over the fjord.

A line of smoke lanced out from the edge of the fjord, the trail of a Stinger antiaircraft missile as it homed in…

And exploded!

One wing blown off in a burning cloud of fuel, the Provider corkscrewed helplessly into the steep-sided valley, plowing into the rocky wall and bursting apart in a thunderous fireball.

“Holy shit!” Starkman yelled.

“Looks like we’re walking home!” Chase shouted back. Now free of his parachute, he readied his weapon, a Heckler and Koch UMP-45 submachine gun. “Okay! Let’s melt the Frost!”

Nina watched in horror from the Mercedes as the plane plunged into the side of the fjord and exploded. “Jesus!”

“Qobras’s people—it has to be!” Kari shouted. “They’re making a last stand!”

“Well, hoo-ray for them!” Nina twisted to look out of the rear window. The last of the parachutists were now on the ground. “I hope they blow the place to hell, and your father with it!”

Slap!

Nina reeled. Kari had hit her! The hot sting across her cheek wasn’t so much painful as humiliating, but somehow that actually made it worse.

Kari issued orders as the Mercedes approached the bridge. “Call the security center and warn them that we have fourteen intruders heading for the biolab! And you,” she added, turning to the driver, “get us to the plane, now!”

“Melt the Frost?” Starkman said in disbelief as the team ran towards the biolab. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Since Tibet,” Chase admitted. He assessed the tactical situation. The open ground provided little cover—for Frost’s men as well as for Starkman’s. The buildings would give their opponents some protection, but it would be easy to outflank them.

The Stinger had been fired from the security building at the northwestern corner of the facility. If Frost’s men had any other heavy weapons, that was where they would be.

“Jason! Six men, cover!” He made a chopping gesture towards the security block. Starkman nodded and passed on the order.

The team of six split off from the main group. Chase quickly advanced on the lab’s entrance. The biolab didn’t have many exits—aside from the main doors and the security entrance, the only other ways in or out were through fire escapes and the ramp leading to the underground garage. Which meant that the closest place any of Frost’s forces could emerge was …

The dark glass doors of the main entrance flew open, uniformed guards rushing out. Armed guards, equipped with MP-7s. Armor-piercing rounds, like the ones Chase himself had used in Tibet.

“Hit ’me!” he shouted, diving to the ground and bringing up his UMP. Starkman and the other six men did the same. The front wall of the biolab erupted with fountains of dust as they raked the building with .45-caliber fire. The doors burst into black shards, blood spraying among the glass as the guards fell.

More MP-7 fire crackled off to Chase’s left as another group of guards ran from the security block. They were better prepared than their late colleagues, and also had more cover, ducking behind the walls on either side of the steps.

Starkman’s second team was about thirty yards distant from them, out in the open with the road still to cross. They had split into two groups of three, one group diving to the ground to give the other covering fire as they raced for the nearest building.

The security forces fired back, trying to catch the running men before they reached cover. One of the guards put his head too far above the wall and had a chunk of his skull blown away by a .45 round, gore sluicing through the air as he fell backwards.

But the others kept firing.

One of the running men fell, bloody wounds blossoming across his chest. His companions didn’t even break their stride until they reached the building and flung themselves into cover.

The guards turned their fire on the men lying on the ground. Clods flew up into the air as bullets thudded into the earth. Chase saw a line of spraying dirt advancing on one man like a snake at its prey, but there was no way he could warn him.

Red blood spouted into the air among the churned-up soil.

The guards redirected their fire, trying to pin down the other men on the ground—

A pair of grenades arced through the air, tossed with precision by the team in the cover of the building. They exploded at head height over the steps and showered the guards with lethal shrapnel. Every window within thirty feet shattered under the double blast.

“Main doors!” yelled Chase, sprinting towards the entrance. Starkman and the others followed, spreading out to provide cover.

Chase reached the wrecked doors, flattening himself against one side and glancing into the building’s interior. The horseshoe-shaped reception desk was unmanned, the guards staffing it now dead at his feet.

Starkman took up position on the other side of the doors. Chase moved into the lobby, backed up by another of the American’s men. Beyond the desk was the entrance to the glass-roofed central corridor; to one side, stairs led up and down.

A door opened, and Chase snapped up his gun. A young blond woman emerged, freezing in fear as she saw him.

“Hi,” said Chase, waving for Starkman to hold fire. “You speak English?”

The woman nodded, wide-eyed.

“Okay. Get out of the building. There’s going to be a fire. Well, more of an explosion, actually, but…” He spotted a fire alarm on the wall nearby. “Anyone else in there?”

She nodded again, too frightened to speak.

“Okay, tell them to get out… and run like hell!” He smashed the glass covering the alarm with the stock of his UMP. Bells rang. Chase winced at the noise—it would make it harder to hear any approaching guards—but the faster the civilians were out of the building, the better.

Because in five minutes, there wasn’t going to be a building.

He moved past the door—keeping his weapon aimed at the people running out, in case any of them were armed—and kicked open the next one. A security station. Empty.

But he knew there were more guards elsewhere in the building…

Starkman and the rest of his men clattered into the lobby as the civilians fled. “Set charges in there!” Chase shouted over the clamor of the fire bells, pointing at the door from which Frost’s employees had come. “Make sure all the civvies get out first!”

“This is gonna get messy!” Starkman complained. People from the floor above were hurrying down the stairs. “If there’s any guards mixed in with the staff—”

“Then aim! You Yanks do remember how to do that, don’t you?” Chase shot Starkman a sarcastic smile before taking cover behind the desk, watching the stairs and the central corridor as the biolab employees rushed through the lobby. Scientists, technicians …

And guards! Shoving through the crowd, MP-7s coming up—

Chase hoped the civvies had the sense to keep their heads down. He fired a three-round burst, deliberately aiming high, before ducking. People screamed. MP-7 fire echoed through the lobby, the expensive marble top of the reception desk splintering as armor-piercing rounds ripped into it.

More gunfire, the deeper thudding of UMPs as Starkman and his men fired back. More screams, and the firing stopped. Chase peered over the desk, and was relieved to see that only the guards had been hit.

“You were right!” Starkman called. “That whole aiming thing really does work!”

Chase grinned, then gestured to the people on the stairs, directing them towards the doors. “Everybody out! Jason, get your guys to plant some more charges on the support columns in the garage—we can drop this whole place into the ground!”

“What about you?” asked Starkman.

Chase nodded at the central corridor. “Frost’ll have the virus in the containment area—we need to collapse the hillside and make sure it stays in there!”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll cover you. Aristides, Lime, with me—the rest of you set your charges in the basement, then get out!”

Chase checked the corridor. More people were running up it, trying to escape the building. “Come on!”

He ran into the corridor, Starkman and the others following. The men and women coming the other way reacted with predictable fear to the sight of four armed men in body armor charging towards them, and desperately tried to get out of their way, cowering by the walls.

“Get out of the building!” Chase roared. “Go!”

“We got company!” Starkman yelled, pointing down the corridor. Chase saw two uniformed men crouching behind the security post at the far end, taking aim—

He threw himself sideways as a spray of bullets flew down the corridor, cutting down one worker who had been trapped in the middle of the passage, paralyzed by his own fear and indecision.

“Shit!” Chase spat. The civilians were still scurrying helplessly across the corridor, blocking his aim, and the guards weren’t bothered about casualties among the workers.

A bloody wound burst open in the shoulder of a woman a few yards from him, bright red spots staining her face as she fell.

No choice.

He raised his UMP and fired a burst at the security station, trying not to hit any of the panicking civilians. The guards ducked as bullets cracked around them.

“Cover fire!” shouted Chase. A man tried to run past him; he grabbed him and pointed at the injured woman. “Get her out of here!” Terrified, the man nodded, then dragged the woman along the corridor.

Chase fired another burst to keep the guards occupied, then rushed down the corridor, staying to one side to give Starkman a clear angle. He jumped over a man cringing in a doorway, the heavy doors of the first airlock not far ahead.

The gunfire behind him went from three guns to two, then one as the others reloaded. Frost’s men would take that as an opportunity to pop up and start shooting back. Right on cue, one of the men sprang up from behind the counter, MP-7 at the ready—

Only to fly backwards against the wall in a spray of blood as Chase emptied his magazine into him.

Chase dived, the spent magazine ejected even before he hit the polished floor.

The second guard jumped up.

At least three seconds to reload …

The guard saw him and brought around his MP-7—

His head snapped back, a single shot from Starkman’s UMP catching him in the forehead.

Chase looked back to see the other men jogging towards him. He reloaded his gun, then got up. “Nice shot.”

“Yes, very nice,” said another voice.

Chase whirled.

Frost!

He fired at the figure on the other side of the doors at the same moment as Starkman, their UMPs now on full auto and unleashing a savage burst of firepower at the glass.

Tink. Tink.

The flattened bullets fell harmlessly to the floor at the base of the door. The transparent aluminum armor wasn’t even scuffed.

“Son of a bitch!” Starkman muttered.

Frost stepped forward. His voice emerged from a speaker below the thumbprint reader. “Mr. Chase. I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you.”

“You owed me some back pay,” said Chase, looking for a way to open the door. Maybe there was an override at the security station …

“Don’t bother,” said Frost. “This section of the lab is completely sealed. There’s no way you can get in.”

“Maybe we can’t get in, but I’m gonna make goddamn sure you don’t get out,” Starkman told him. He opened one of the packs attached to his belt and took out the contents. “CL-20. Two pounds of it. We’re gonna bring the place down on you just like you tried to do to us in Tibet.”

Frost merely smirked. “I wish you luck.” He turned his back on them and started to walk away.

“Frost!” Chase shouted. “Where’s Nina?”

Frost paused, glancing back at him. “Dr. Wilde is with my daughter. Kari persuaded me to keep her alive—she hopes to convince her to see reason and join us before the virus is released.”

“And when’ll that be?”

“In however many minutes it takes their plane to reach thirty thousand feet.” Chase and Starkman exchanged shocked looks. “Yes, it’s already happening. You’re too late, Mr. Starkman. Qobras failed to stop me, and so have you. You might want to reflect on that… before you die. Which no matter what happens will be sometime in the next twenty-four hours.” He smirked again. “Good-bye, gentlemen.” With that, he walked away. The second set of doors slammed decisively behind him.

Starkman angrily fired another burst at the door, which remained unscathed. “Motherfucker!”

“If there’s one thing I hate,” said Chase, “it’s a smug bastard.”

“You think he was lying? About the virus, I mean?”

“If the plane hasn’t taken off yet, we still have a chance. If it has, we’re fucked, and so’s the rest of the world. Either way …” He took out his own CL-20. “We do what we came here to do—and blow this place to fuck.”

The Mercedes stopped beneath the massive wing of the Airbus A380. The huge cargo plane was waiting on the runway apron outside its hangar, engines idling. Kari pushed Nina up the boarding steps, the two guards following.

The A380 had three decks; on an airliner model the middle floor they entered would have been the lower of the two passenger levels, but all three decks of the cavernous freighter version were designed for cargo containers. They entered the crew room. A door at the rear opened into the hold. Nina glanced through it. The windowless deck was about a third full.

Somewhere among the containers, she knew, was the virus, waiting to be released …

A steep flight of stairs led up to the top deck. Kari directed her up it. Nina expected to see another huge cargo space, but was slightly surprised to emerge in a luxurious cabin.

“My father installed a private office,” Kari explained. She unfastened Nina’s handcuffs. “Please, sit.”

Nina reluctantly did so, looking around. Portholes lined each side of the cabin, and a door in the rear wall presumably opened into the upper hold. An L-shaped desk had a computer monitor and a pair of telephones built into it.

Kari sat facing her on a leather sofa. The two guards hadn’t come up the stairs with them, staying in the lounge below. Nina wondered if she might be able to overpower Kari and flee the aircraft before it took off … but dismissed the idea even as it took form. She had no chance of beating Kari in a fight.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish,” Nina said. “If you think I’m going to happily go along with what you’re doing …”

“I don’t expect you to come around with a click of the fingers. I know the whole thing is hard for you to accept. But you have to accept it—it’s going to happen.”

“You are deluded! No, you’re insane! Do you seriously think I want anything to do with you, ever again?”

Kari looked wounded. “Please don’t be like that, Nina! Don’t you understand? You’re one of us. You’re a true Atlantean, the very best of humanity! You deserve to be one of the rulers of the world!” She rose and came across the cabin. For a moment Nina thought she was going to hit her again, but instead she knelt down before her. “I don’t want to kill you, I don’t! Just say that you’ve changed your mind—you don’t even have to be telling the truth! Once everything changes, then I know you’ll come around, that you’ll realize we were right. But you have to say it if you want to stay alive.”