The Poseidon Initiative

by Rick Chesler

  “Where do you want me to land?”

  Ali pointed. There’s a parking lot at the end of that road down there. Put us down there in one piece and this will all be over.”

  The pilot glanced down at the small square of dirt, a couple of cars left there by hikers who trekked up into the rain forest.

  In the backseat, Ali’s men had removed their hazmat suits and now tossed them out the still open door. Ali instructed one of them to cover the pilot with the pistol while he removed his own suit and tossed it out.

  By the time that was done the pilot was hovering above the parking lot, easing the helicopter down. His radio still boomed with chatter that went ignored. They were searching for the aircraft now in Diamond Head crater.

  The skids kissed the dirt with a gentle thump and the pilot sat there with his hands on the collective, looking over at Ali.

  The two men in back hefted their backpacks and stepped from the aircraft, now wearing shorts, boots, heads wrapped in bandanas. They looked for all the world like day hikers out to explore the rain forest.

  “Let’s go!” They called to Ali.

  Ali turned to the pilot and double-tapped his 1911, putting two bullets through his forehead. He watched him slump forward at the controls. Satisfied he was dead, he stepped from the chopper and fell into single file line with his men as they hit the trail that wound up into the rainforest.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Virginia

  Tanner was behind the wheel of a rented SUV with Liam and Daniele on the way back to Maryland. They had just gotten over the sting of their failed sortie — the knowledge that not only were they unable to follow Amir to a Hofstad higher-up, but that now Hofstad was aware the antidote ploy was a ruse — when they got the news.

  Tanner had kept the radio tuned to an AM news station, knowing that Hofstad’s deadline to the government for shutting down the embassy would pass while on the drive home. Thirty-seven minutes after that deadline came and went, the stunning reports came.

  Hundreds dead on Waikiki Beach in Hawaii after a touring helicopter flew low over the beach. Dozens more still seriously ill. Doctors report that victims inhaled some type of neurotoxin thought to be released by a man wearing a mask from a yellow tourist helicopter. The search for that helicopter continues.

  Tanner pounded the wheel in frustration as he accelerated past a slow-moving camper vehicle. Liam shook his head in silence while Daniele reached up from the backseat to grip Tanner’s shoulder.

  “We tried our best.”

  “Our best wasn’t good enough.”

  “Sometimes it’s not.” This from Liam.

  “Hold up — listen!” Daniele turned up the radio volume, where the reporter was saying something about transferring to a live feed. Then the same voice that Tanner recognized as having delivered the statement following the football stadium attack boomed over the airwaves.

  “Americans: Hofstad claims responsibility for the Waikiki Beach attack that has killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of your citizens. We executed these people because our demands have still not been met. The United States embassy at The Hague remains open for business. And so do we. I reiterate our simple demand to the U.S. administration: close The Hague embassy. You have a two hour grace period after which you may expect further attacks at any time, without warning.”

  Tanner wasn’t sure if a video accompanied the broadcast, but a radio announcer came on to signify that that was the end of the message.

  The SUV was silent, all three OUTCAST operators lost in thought. Tanner knew by the fact that a second attack was carried out that Stephen’s gambit had failed to pay dividends. That left the lab effort. He wouldn’t be able to communicate securely with them until he reached the OUTCAST facility.

  As they crossed the Maryland state line, Tanner could only hope that Jasmijn was making progress.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Royal Netherlands Institute for Sea Research, Den Hoorn, Netherlands

  Dante Alvarez exchanged shocked glances with Naomi Washington across the lab. Between them, Jasmijn Rotmensen sat at a lab bench, her head buried in a stereomicroscope. Dante held eye contact with Nay and pushed a hand toward the floor.

  Easy. Keep quiet. Don’t let her know.

  Dante and Naomi each wore two earpieces. In anticipation of the Hofstad deadline, one was tuned to a news radio station, while the other was reserved for their secure wireless communication channel. They were both hearing at the same time the news of the Hawaii attack. For right now, at least, there was no need to distract their best hope of coming up with an STX antidote by exposing her to the horrible news. Let her work.

  So the pair of OUTCAST operatives did their best to stay focused while they listened to the details of the new terror incident. At least a thousand confirmed dead, now. Some kind of airborne neuro-agent, released from a helicopter at low altitude. Hofstad claimed responsibility. The helicopter was located near the mountains, its pilot dead of gunshot wounds inside the craft.

  Dante and Naomi continued to circle the lab like sharks on autopilot, guarding their scientist. Pistols drawn, they maintained a state of constant vigilance.

  And that vigilance was about to pay off.

  Naomi noticed a shadow block a portion of the sliver of light beneath the door, then pass by. Since Jasmijn’s lab was the only door set into the end of a hallway, there was no reason for anyone to come this way unless it was to access the lab.

  Must be a university security patrol, Naomi thought. Nevertheless, she waved to Dante to gain his attention. The university guards had maintained a regular presence since they’d been here, and they didn’t usually walk that close to the door. She glanced at her watch. It had been almost an hour since she’d had a look outside for a perimeter check. She walked toward the door. Dante covered her with his firearm. She was lifting her hand to open the door when Jasmijn’s voice nearly made her jump.

  “I knew it!”

  Neither operator turned to look at her. She looked up from her microscope and furrowed her brow as she caught them in mid-action — Dante’s gun drawn, Naomi’s hand on the door handle.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Probably not,” Dante walked slowly toward the door as he spoke. “Please continue working. We’ll let you know if you need to be aware of anything.”

  “Actually, I need you to be aware of something.” Jasmijn pointed to the slide under her microscope. Dante watched out of his peripheral vision only.

  “I’ve made some progress but require further raw materials to continue.”

  Naomi glanced down at the line of light beneath the door and held a finger up behind her. Dante crouched and steadied himself into a two-handed shooter’s stance.

  “One moment, please,” he said to Jasmijn.

  Suddenly a knock came at the door. “Security. Checking in. Everything okay?”

  The voice belonged to a younger Danish male, fitting the profile for the university sponsored patrols.

  Dante relaxed his stance. He put his gun down, but did not holster it. He nodded to Nay, who did the same before indicating to Jasmijn that she should respond and come to the door.

  “Yes, I’m fine. One second.” She got down from the stool and walked to the door. She opened it.

  A blonde head she didn’t recognize poked into the gap left by the open door. “Afternoon, Doctor. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Quite alright, thank you.” Jasmijn started to close the door but the man put his hand on its edge.

  “Excuse me, Doctor. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been news I need to tell you about. May I come in?”

  Dante could see Jasmijn check herself as she started to turn her head to look at him and Naomi. They were supposed to be scientists — colleagues of Jasmijn’s, not a gun-toting mercenary detail — so she didn’t want them to be seen if she could help it. But she needed their approval here. Did they know something she didn’t?

  Dante nodded and waved his hand backwa
rds. Come on in. To deny them entry was suspicious and would only delay Jasmijn’s work while the university sent more people to investigate. Better to put them at ease now and send them on their way if at all possible.

  “Sure. I can spare a minute or two.” She pulled the door opened and stepped back.

  The blonde man walked into the lab. He was followed closely by another man, also wearing the yellow and blue university security officer’s jacket, who entered the room with him.

  Naomi and Dante quickly plucked white lab coats from hooks behind the door and put them on. They pulled clear plastic safety goggles from the pockets and wore those as well. They pocketed their pistols and each sat on lab stools as though they were taking a break.

  The pair of security men walked inside, the second one closing the door behind them. They had a thorough look around, their gazes lingering over Jasmijn’s two “associates,” before addressing the scientist.

  “How is your work going — the progress on the antidote?”

  Jasmijn’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t normal for university security personnel to be informed about the details of laboratory work. But then again, hers was a high profile situation, the very reason for the enhanced security in the first place. But a glance askew at Dante and Naomi told her that they weren’t buying it, either. The two OUTCASTs were on the edge of their stools, trying almost too hard to appear casual.

  “Going well. Need to get back to it, though. You said there was news to tell me?”

  The first of the two into the room nodded. “There has been a second terrorist attack. In Hawaii. Thousands dead from an airborne STX neurotoxin. We need that antidote.”

  The hairs on Jasmijn’s arms bristled. “We?”

  The second of the two security men took a couple of steps back, watching Dante and Nay closely before his associate continued.

  “Yes, we. I believe you met with a colleague of ours, earlier, no? A colleague who informed you that the STX antidote was needed very soon. We are checking up on the progress of that antidote on behalf of that associate.”

  “You—” Jasmijn stammered, suddenly very unsure of herself. “You don’t—”

  But she never finished her sentence.

  Dante pulled his Sig Sauer so fast that neither of the two Hofstad terrorists knew what was happening. That speed came at a price, though. One shot found its mark in the midsection of the man talking to Jasmijn, but the other ricocheted harmlessly off the tile floor. The stricken man reached for something on his belt as he fell to the floor. Dante assumed it was a weapon and blasted his face off with the Sig.

  Then a small electronic device clattered onto the floor and he saw it was a two-way radio. This reminded him of the fact that he and Nay both wore small headset radios that were highly advanced and would give away the fact that they were not simply scientists.

  Jasmijn backpedaled away from the fallen intruder. “You’re from Hofstad, aren’t you? How did you get these uniforms?” Oh God…”

  But no one else in the room was listening to her. The Hofstad man on the floor was dying, wordlessly hunched over the floor clutching his lacerated gut, chunky ropes of pink spittle swinging from his slackjawed mouth. The remaining Hofstad agent charged into Dante like a bull, smashing his back into the lab counter while Naomi aimed her handgun at the fast-moving combatants.

  From there the fight grew furious, a blur of fists, knees and elbows until Naomi had no way to be sure who she’d be shooting. The two grappling men grunted and gasped, heads turning to avoid blows, the fisticuffs clearly taking a toll on both operators.

  Jasmijn kept screaming but Naomi blocked it out, focusing her attention on Dante and the man he opposed. The two opponents moved so fast it was like trying to read the numbers on a roulette wheel while it spun. Still, she kept her eyes on them, waiting and hoping for a break that would give her an opportunity for a clean shot.

  At that moment the fallen man’s radio burst forth with Danish chatter. Only the two women in the room were able to listen to it, and of them only Jasmijn could understand it.

  “They just told someone the room number of the lab! Someone’s coming!”

  Whether that someone was Hofstad reinforcements, university security or local police, she had no way of knowing, but it seemed to spur Dante into action. He grappled even more furiously, gripping the Hofstad man’s head with both hands and whipping him into the bench counter. Then he took a well-placed knee to the groin, letting out a choking cough. It looked as though the terrorist was about to plant both feet on Dante’s chest and push, but then he realized that his lack of separation from his target was the only thing keeping him alive. Instead of pushing him away, the Hofstad activist flung himself forward in a fluid rolling motion on top of Dante, so that both men now wrestled on the hard floor. Each tried to slam the other’s face into the tiles.

  Finally, with Dante straining his arm muscles to hold his foe’s head up, Naomi saw her chance for a shot. She held her breath. Pulled the trigger back.

  That was when the lab door burst open.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Royal Netherlands Institute for Sea Research, Den Hoorn, Netherlands

  Naomi counted four men, guns drawn, pouring into the lab. She ducked behind a lab bench. Dante still grappled on the floor with the Hofstad man. He was finally gaining the upper hand, rolling onto his side while pinning his opponent’s arms unnaturally beneath him. Naomi heard the snap of bone followed by an agonizing wail.

  Dante kicked the man away from him and was about to pull his weapon when two of the newcomers appeared to their left, and two to their right.

  Four snub-nosed automatic weapons were aimed at Dante, Naomi, and Jasmijn. Dante could see that the extremists also carried backup weapons — pistols and knives worn on utility belts. Two of the men were typical looking light-skinned Dutchmen, early thirties, Dante guessed, while the other two had a more swarthy complexion that suggested North African descent. Regardless, all four them appeared deadly serious to the point of holding back anger.

  One of them glanced down at their fallen comrade but did not bother to render aid.

  “Search them for weapons,” he said in Danish, understandable only to Jasmijn. She translated for Nay and Dante, who emerged slowly from the floor with his hands held high. His Hofstad opponent lay on the floor writhing in agony, favoring his broken arm.

  “You three — line up!” One of the swarthy complected gunmen waved his auto-rifle at the lab bench behind them. Naomi and Jasmijn put their backs to it. Dante walked to the bench and did the same.

  “Hands up!” Also in accented English. The trio of captured lab inhabitants complied.

  The fallen Hofstad man looked up as his comrade approached. The Dutchman kept his automatic rifle leveled at the three prisoners while he looked down at his injured colleague. He directed angry words to him in Dutch. The wounded man responded, apparently trying to defend his actions, to explain why he had failed. Whatever he said, it wasn’t enough.

  The man standing over him grew red in the face, shouted something and then planted one of his black boots on the agent’s broken arm. He continued to yell at him over his screams of misery until the man passed out in a messy fount of his own blood.

  Dante watched the eyes of the other Hofstad men. They appeared to show no signs of apprehension or discomfort at what they were witnessing. Were these men higher up in the organization than the two they had just replaced?

  “You!” A light-skinned Dutchmen pointed his weapon at Jasmijn as the other three gunmen converged on their three lined-up captives.

  “We said we would be back and we are true to our word.” He leered at her two companions. “I see you have recruited help in the lab. Good. What is the status of the STX antidote?” He glanced at the microscope. “You have been working on the antidote, I trust?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Good. And if you’ve had a chance to check the news, you’ll know that there are a good many people who could have benefited fr
om it.”

  “As if you would let them have it, anyway,” Jasmijn spat.

  “We cannot give what does not exist. Or does it?” He looked again to her workstation by the microscope.

  Jasmijn hung her head. “It does not.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  She looked up at her captor and took a deep breath before speaking. “I attempted a cloning technique I thought could be effective. It wasn’t. Then I tried a variant cloning method utilizing an artificial instance of a key molecule that unfortunately does not seem to exist as a commercial preparation. That didn’t work either.” She paused to catch her breath, staring at the unfriendly face aiming a gun at her that she knew could cut her to ribbons in seconds.

  “If you have lost your usefulness to us,” the man with the machine gun said, then I suppose our work here is done.” He pointed the barrel of the snubnose at her neck.

  “There is still hope! After the first unsuccessful trial, I stopped and I thought about it. I conducted a literature search, consulted some of my old notes, and then it finally came to me: the compound I need does exist, and I know where to find it.”

  Naomi and Dante nodded, playing their roles as scientists affirming their boss’s efforts.

  “Where?” His eyes bored into hers.

  “There is a species of sea anemone I have done nerve cell work with before that lives on the pilings of oil rigs in the North Sea. Not terribly deep — within scuba diving depths — that’s how I used to collect them.”

  “These…aneme-what?”

  Jasmijn frowned at his lack of comprehension.

  “Sea a-nem-O-knees,” she said, over-enunciating each syllable. “They’re simple, primitive animals related to jellyfish that are fastened to a substrate of some kind — to rocks or some other hard surface, in this case the support pilings of oil rigs. They look superficially like flowers but are invertebrate animals that use their stinging cells to catch and eat prey like crabs, shrimp and even small fish.”