Man Killer

by Misty Evans

The bright overhead lights revealed multiple work rooms within a larger glassed in area, giving a clear view of the equipment, storage racks filled with vials, and an area labeled ‘Decontamination.’

  Outside the main glass door, white suits hung on a wall, face masks and goggles stored above, boots and covers for them below. To one side was a door with an exit sign over it.

  There were no zombies, but there were several monkeys, dozens of rodents, and… “Are those bats?” he asked, trying not to shudder. God, he hated bats.

  “Did you know they’re one of the most dangerous creatures in the world?” Falana asked, chuckling at his expression.

  The animals were not in metal cages but behind more glass, like zoo exhibits, hanging from a series of bars.

  She brought him to the glass, staring in at the animals. “They carry killer viruses all over their bodies—their blood, spit, and feces. They’re most likely the source of Ebola, SARS, and a host of other nasty things. But they don’t get sick. Quite fascinating, don’t you think?”

  The bats in the cage didn’t look healthy to him. Some seemed mangy. One laid on the bottom, barely breathing. “None of these bats are sick?”

  “Our experiments require dosing them with unnatural amounts of toxins, so some display symptoms, but the world is only beginning to understand how far and wide they can, and do, spread natural viruses. They are the ultimate incubator and release agent.”

  She turned, hand outstretched to motion at the entire laboratory. “My husband started this several years ago with the research institute on the grounds, but I made it my mission to create this high-tech lab, specializing in viruses, and expand our experiments into new areas. Doctors Gotty and Epstein study and use the bats to research synthetic versions of different viruses.”

  Biohazard warning signs were everywhere. The sad eyes of the monkeys in their cages made his blood boil. “So all of these animals are infected with some type of disease?”

  “Of course.” She started a tour, offering up details and timelines regarding her plans. The exit door near the suits apparently opened to an underground passageway that led to the research institute out back.

  She stopped outside the decontamination entrance. “I overheard you and Ms. Juno at the conference. If you’re looking for a cause to invest in, I have one for you.”

  The station’s countertops gleamed under the stark lighting. An enclosed shelving system at the far end held vials and vials of liquids—could this be the missing Disease X?

  If his calculations were accurate, they were only a few dozen yards from the research institute building. He could immobilize her and sneak her out through the tunnel. They wouldn’t get far before her security guards would sound the alarm, but the SUV was equipped with a smash bar for getting through the gate and it could handle off-road terrain if they needed to find an alternate route out from the estate grounds.

  Falana’s long, slender fingers touched his arm and traveled down his wrist, a large emerald ring on her index finger. “I’ll take you inside if you want a closer examination, but you'll need a suit. My researcher is fastidious and extremely careful, of course, but we can’t take chances with such powerful toxins, you understand?”

  He understood, all right. No way in hell was he going inside there. No telling what floated in the air or waited on those gleaming steel countertops.

  While everything looked sanitary, the slightest bit of invisible toxin could kill a person. After all the reading Cassandra had made him do, he wouldn't look at a restaurant salad bar or doctor’s office the same way ever again. There were germs everywhere.

  “Of course.” It was time to take out Goldilocks. He still didn't know where Cassandra was, or if Epstein would cooperate, but this was his best, and probably only chance to get Falana alone so he could disable her and cart her ass out to the Beamer.

  She inched closer, batting her eyelashes and looking less like a businesswoman and more like a princess on the prowl. “My father was killed several years ago, my rightful place as a ruler of my country stolen from me by my brother. I want to bring economic stability and education to my people, as well as improved healthcare. We will become the leading nation for research, development, and control of infectious diseases.”

  He struggled not to gape. As she told him more in-depth details about her history, he took her hand and acted interested, while running various scenarios of how to get inside the lab containing the vials without getting himself infected. This was Henley's area of expertise, not his.

  The end of the story came, and Falana trailed her other hand down his chest, letting it stop at his belt. She’d left out the part about poisoning her brother and his followers, but she was determined to regain her throne. “As I said upstairs, those who back me will find themselves extremely wealthy and have my indebted gratitude. I could use an investment group like yours to cultivate my research into a billion-dollar worldwide business.”

  “Color me incredibly impressed.” He grabbed the hand on his belt and gave her a return look that suggested he was interested in more than doing business. “And here I thought you only wanted to steal my COO.”

  She smiled, her beauty hiding the insane mind behind it. “Gotty can have her. You were always my ultimate goal.”

  Gotty cannot have her.

  She leaned in to kiss him, but before her lips touched his, he whipped her around so her back was to his chest. He wrapped a forearm across her neck, locking her in a rear naked choke cutting off her scream.

  She coughed and fought, flailing her arms, but he kept his head tucked to avoid her wild fists from connecting with his nose or eyes.

  Within seconds, he’d cut off enough blood flow that she fell unconscious.

  She slumped to the floor and he removed zip ties from inside his jacket to incapacitate her hands and legs. “Goldilocks is down,” he said into his comm as he secured her wrists.

  Static filled his ear.

  “Come in, Command.” He tied her ankles together. “Jett, are you there?”

  “…hear you…” Broken communication came through, but it wasn't Jett’s voice. It was Hathor’s. “You’ve got…”

  He pressed the earbud deeper with one hand, yanking one of the suits off its hook with the other. “You're breaking up. Say again.”

  Static, then, “—coming. I repeat, incoming!”

  The door at the top of the stairs swung open and Mick threw the suit over Falana’s body. “Back up would be helpful,” he told her as a pair of sexy legs came in to view.

  He knew those legs. “Cassie?”

  Behind her, a set of men's black leather shoes followed. Her face lit up when she saw him. “Sterling! What are you doing down here?”

  Still in character. That was good.

  Gotty had hold of her arm. “Exactly what I was wondering,” the doctor said. They hit the bottom and his gaze fell on Falana's body, covered by the suit. “What’s going on here?”

  Mick was looking forward to rendering the man unconscious. He’d been waiting all week to punch him. “The countess was showing me the lab and telling me about her mission to regain her throne, but she started feeling poorly and seems to have passed out. She had quite a bit of wine before we ventured down here.”

  Gotty glanced between him and Falana’s body, walking over to her. He still had a tight grip on Cassandra’s wrist and tugged her along.

  That’s right. Come closer.

  “Why is that suit over her?”

  “To keep her warm. She's in shock. I was on my way upstairs to get help. Does she have a medical condition?” Go on the offensive. “What are you doing down here, by the way?”

  “I forgot my briefcase.” He pointed to a steel contraption on a nearby desk. “Dr. Epstein prepared samples for me to take on my next trip.”

  “He’s going to Malaysia,” Cassandra said, giving Mick a meaningful look. “To help with a leprosy outbreak near Borneo.”

  He had no idea what that look meant. “You’re not leaving
for Africa with the countess tomorrow morning?”

  The man's eyes narrowed. “She told you?” He turned beet red, resembling a pimple about to pop. Looking away, he swore under his breath and grabbed his case. “Let me guess, she went ahead and offered you an investment opportunity even after I told her not to trust you..”

  He said investment opportunity as if the words contained one of the deadly viruses he studied.

  Mick smirked. “She didn't tell you?” The guy was still too far away to tackle, and his grip on Cassandra made Mick see red. “Guess I'm not surprised. You're a doctor, not a businessman. The countess needs help creating her New World Order, and that takes money, doctor. A lot of it. Exactly what I can give her, along with a few other perks.”

  Yep, the guy was a jealous bastard who didn’t like being shown up. At the very least, he’d overestimated his importance to the countess.

  “I know what you're doing,” Seymour seethed. “You manipulated her to bring you down here so you could see what kind of experiments we’re doing. You want to steal our research.”

  The guy was as loony as his boss. “Why don't you turn my chief operating officer loose and be on your way? I'll take care of the countess.”

  Gotty’s attention dropped to Falana, still unconscious. He held onto Cassandra, releasing the briefcase instead to grab the handset of the landline on the desk. “I’m calling security. You two make a good team, but you can't fool me. I know what you're doing, and I won't let you get away with it!”

  Mick ran toward him. Cassandra was quicker, using a stiletto to kick Gotty in the shin.

  He let out a howl, dropping the handset, but not releasing his grip on her. Hatred burned in his eyes and he picked up the briefcase again. As Mick reached Cassandra, Gotty swung.

  Cassie ducked, and Mick threw up a hand to block it, but the edge of the case still managed to connect with her temple. She sprawled on the floor, and Mick roared with anger, yanking it away from the doctor and punching him in the face.

  There was a crack from his nose and he dropped. Blood spurted from the broken appendage and Gotty didn't move.

  Mick sank to his knees next to Cassandra. She held the side of her head and blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear her vision. He helped her sit, but she was dizzy and nearly toppled over once more. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, hands trembling. Blood coated her fingers. “Crap, that hurt,” she said.

  He gently moved her hand aside so he could examine her temple. A bruise was forming, the skin split where the corner of the case had caught her. “Slow your breathing. You're going to hyperventilate.”

  An open wound in this environment was dangerous. He removed his jacket, then his shirt, wadding up the latter and pressing it against her temple. She flinched but held it there. “Come in, Command,” he ground out. “Can anyone hear me? I need assistance, now.”

  Static. Something was causing interference, either the equipment inside the lab or some kind of barrier constructed around it.

  “Can you stand?” he asked Cassandra.

  Her eyes had trouble focusing on him, and he could see one pupil was dilated. “Get Falana. Let's get the hell out of here.”

  She was so damn tough. She could barely sit up, much less stand. “My first concern is you, and I can't leave until I figure out how to contain the viruses in there.” He pointed to the interior lab. “Sit still and let me think.”

  Neither Falana nor Gotty would stay unconscious much longer, and without Hunter or one of the others to help, he couldn't get Falana and Cassandra out covertly if Cassandra couldn’t stand and run.

  “There should be some type of portable container down here that I could put the vials in, right? Something to contain biohazards?”

  She nodded, biting her bottom lip and closing her eyes. “Yes, but I'm not sure exactly where it’d be. It might look like Seymour's case, metal and insulated specifically for transporting chemicals and toxins. It should have a hazardous label on it.”

  He got up and started scanning the area, grabbing Gotty’s briefcase and checking that first. It was locked, requiring a fingerprint and keypad combination.

  It wasn't big enough for all the vials inside the lab anyway, and Mick stared through the outer glass windows, searching for larger containers that fit Cassandra’s specifications.

  There. Three containers inside the interior lab under the animal cages. Each was covered in stickers marked ‘Infectious Disease’ and ‘Biological Product.’

  All he had to do was get in there, retrieve the vials, and haul them, Cassandra, and Falana up the stairs and out of the house without being seen.

  Piece of cake. Certainly couldn't be harder than breaking out of prison twice.

  The lab had a lock on it. Another damned keypad. He didn't have time to disarm it the easy way, so he grabbed Gotty’s briefcase and raised it to smash it into the keypad.

  “That’s not necessary,” came a female voice behind him. “I can open it for you.”

  Dr. Epstein stood halfway down the stairs, Hunter on her heels.

  Thank God. Mick nearly sagged against the glass window.

  “Besides,” Epstein said, making her way toward him. “You don't want to set off the alarm, do you?”

  She grabbed a face mask and gloves. Hunter glanced between Cassandra, Falana, and Gotty. “Looks like you’re having fun,” he said.

  Right. “I wondered when you were going to get your ass down here.”

  Hunter grinned. “Do you want me to take care of the countess?”

  “There’s a tunnel to the research institute.” Mick pointed at the door across the way. “We’re not killing her. Take her out that way and stow her in the SUV.”

  “Roger.” Hunter hefted her in a fireman’s hold. “I’ll take care of her. You get the drugs.”

  Epstein opened the exterior door and then the interior where the laboratory animals were kept. The chimpanzees watched her with those sad, detached eyes, several scooting toward the back of their cages as if anticipating inhumane treatment. Mick felt sick.

  Cassandra struggled to her feet. She swayed and grabbed for the ledge of the first glass panel. Her voice was breathy, her eyes still unfocused. “What can I…?”

  Before she finished, her eyes rolled up in her head and she crashed to the floor.

  * * *

  Collateral damage

  * * *

  “Cassandra!”

  The voice was far away, dragging her from the blackness. Her head pounded and she tried to go back to sleep but strong hands shook her.

  “Wake up, Cassie. Come on. Breathe!”

  Mick? Trying to say his name ended in a coughing fit. She wanted the shaking to stop, the jackhammer rapping against her skull to quit. Her stomach cramped and her feet tingled.

  She tried to lift a hand but found she had no strength. The coughing continued, a sharp pain in her throat as if something had pressed too hard against her windpipe.

  Forcing her eyes open, she found Mick staring down at her, a large gash across his right eyebrow. Drops of blood ran down his cheek and onto his neck.

  “What…happened?” she whispered between coughing fits. One of her hands finally made it to her throat, the cartilage tender to the touch, her pulse beating rapidly.

  “Nothing good,” he mumbled, helping her sit up. “Don’t try to talk.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t let you get away with this!” Seymour yelled from inside the glassed-in lab. Sitting on the floor, she could only see his and Dr. Epstein’s upper bodies. Epstein murmured to Seymour, her hands raised in a supplicating gesture. Her words were too soft for Cassandra to hear.

  Trace had disappeared as had Falana’s body. She touched Mick’s cut. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but that damn asshole got me back for attacking him. I should’ve tied him up. When you fell, he was conscious again and took that moment to outfox me. He stuck his foot on your windpipe, threatening to crush it if I made a move. He reached for the phone and I had to
jump him again to stop him from calling for help. I’m sorry about your throat.”

  “Oh my God, don’t be. I’ll live.”

  “I disabled the phone and he hit me with that damn briefcase. Before I could stop him, he dove into the lab, knocked Epstein aside, and scooped up half a dozen vials. He threatened to throw one at her if she tried to stop him and now he's in the animal room.”

  “What’s he doing in there?” she whispered.

  “He’s about to release—”

  A buzz sounded, and Cassandra watched in horror as the glass door holding the bats inside began to slide open.

  “Bats,” Cassandra hissed. “I hate bats!”

  The tiny rodents didn’t seem to realize they were free. Most slept in their upside down position. Or maybe they were too sick to care.

  She shivered. “We have to get Dr. Epstein out of there!”

  “They’re all carrying some kind of disease,” Mick said through gritted teeth as he carefully walked her to the stairs, keeping one eye on Seymour. He was distracted, confiscating more vials. “I need you to get out of here and let me handle the doctor. Doctors.”

  Like she was leaving him. Forget that she could barely put one foot in front of the other without his hands keeping her upright, she wasn’t abandoning him to deal with saving Epstein and stopping Gotty.

  “Seymour, what are you thinking?” she called to him. “Close that cage. You’re going to expose yourself and Dr. Epstein to something awful!”

  “Cassandra,” Mick said under his breath. “You promised to follow my orders!”

  From behind goggles, Seymour cut his gaze to her, a snarl on his face. “I know what you and your boss are up to, and I will stop you!” In a rage, he turned on Epstein. “Have you been working for them this whole time? Betraying us?”

  A bat woke, swooping out of the cage and Epstein pressed herself against the wall. The glass doors were all open, but the bat flew in a circle over hers and Seymour’s heads.

  “I can't let you keep doing this,” Epstein said to him. “I refuse to let the countess kill innocent people.”

  He pointed a gloved finger at her, ignoring more bats awakening and flying out. “We are changing the world. That requires tough choices. If a few people have to die in order to save millions and advance the health of the entire population, the collateral damage is worth it.”