by Blake Banner
Ben narrowed his eyes at me. He said, “If he breathes in the wrong way, cut him in half.”
They all trained their weapons on me. I reached in my back pocket and slowly pulled out the list Ogden had given me. I took it in my left hand. Ben’s eyes were fixed on it. Still moving very slowly I put my right hand in my right front pocket. This was not the way I had planned it. It was not the way it was supposed to pan out, but it was as good as it was going to get.
The next moment all hell broke loose.
The walls shook. Donnelly was hurled across the room in a billowing cloud of dust. Ben went over backwards in his chair. Plaster fell from the ceiling and the walls. Everybody was cowering, coughing and gasping. I’d known it was coming and had my sleeve over my mouth. I shoved the paper back in my pocket, sprang across the room and smashed my instep into one of the guards’ crotch. His coughing turned into a wheezing scream. I wrenched his M16 from his hands and sprayed the doorway. I couldn’t see a damn thing through the dust and smoke. Somebody screamed. Feet ran. I let off another burst and listened. Nothing. So I ran forward through the door and let off another burst down the corridor. Somebody swore.
I ran then into the operating theater. There was a pile of rubble in the middle of the floor and a gaping hole in the ceiling, through which sunlight was streaming, and the dust and smoke were escaping. I grabbed one of the gurneys I had left in the room, stashed it on top of the rubble, locked the wheels and clambered onto it.
Out in the passage I could hear voices shouting, one screaming in pain. Ben was bellowing, “Get in there! Get that bastard! I want him dead! Dead! Kill that mother fucker now!”
I reached up and pulled myself into the dining room. I positioned myself where I could see the doorway into the operating theater, expecting them to come in after me, but they didn’t. In the confusion, with all the dust and the smoke, they thought I was still in the lab, with the CAT scanner and all the other computer equipment. I smiled and gave them a few seconds to get in. Then I backed up and pressed the other detonator. It was one and a half tablets of C4, in an enclosed basement, and it made one hell of a bang.
EIGHTEEN
The blast wave, channeled through the open doors and up through the hole in the floor, was enough to throw me sprawling on my back. It was a good thing that it did, because a moment later the walls separating the labs collapsed and the floor where I had been standing caved in.
I lay a moment, looking up at the ceiling above me. The pain in my shoulder was excruciating. By gradual stages I pulled myself into a sitting position. A slow, almost motionless mushroom cloud of dust and smoke lingered over the gaping hole in the floor. It was like a nuclear explosion trapped in a time warp. I told myself I should go down and confirm the kills, at least Ben and Donnelly, but I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. Not with my shoulder in the state it was in.
I waited ten minutes, sitting on the floor with my back against the wall, until the dust cloud had started to clear. Then I got to my feet, put the M16 to my shoulder and inched toward the hole. I knew the chances of anyone having survived were minimal, but minimal was not zero, and over-confidence in this kind of game is as big a killer as C4, maybe bigger.
The gurney was a mangled wreck. Everything down there was a mangled wreck. There were no bodies visible, because all you could see was rubble. I decided that, even if anybody had survived, they would not be getting out any time soon. I could afford to go and collect my backpack.
I slung the M16 over my shoulder and limped and groaned my way to the main entrance. On the way I glanced at my watch. It was still working. It was a few minutes after half past seven. I pushed out into the cold, bright morning air and made my way along the front gardens until I came to the Bougainvillea bush that stood below the top floor terrace. My backpack was there. I picked it up and slung it over my other shoulder.
I stood then for a moment, peering at the southeastern sky. I wondered for a moment if it was my imagination. The sun was an inch above the horizon, and in the molten glow of its light I thought I could see a small, black speck. The more I looked at it, the more certain I became that it was a chopper, and it was coming my way at speed. And that could be either really good news, or really bad news.
I hobbled my way, a little faster now, back toward the entrance to the building. It was when I was halfway there that I started to hear the distant wail of sirens. Then I started to laugh. I leaned my back against the wall, dropped the M16 and slid to the ground.
The chopper arrived a little before the sheriff, coming in low and fast over the trees, making them bend and bow and toss against the downdraft. It slewed to the right, reared slightly and then slowly settled onto the lawn. I was pretty sure by then it wasn’t another wave of Omega agents. If it had been, they would have riddled me with 50 cal. rounds from the chopper. So if it wasn’t Omega, that meant it had to be Gibbons and his pals, hopefully with a search warrant.
I wasn’t wrong. He jumped down, hunching into his shoulders, and ran toward me on his small, strutting legs while his green tweed jacked flapped around his thighs. I looked for Marni, but she wasn’t with him. I didn’t blame her.
The helicopter turbines whined and the blades slowed. Behind Gibbons, two men climbed out. Both wore expensive suits, one was charcoal gray, and the man wearing it was well groomed and in his fifties. I figured he was the DA. The other one was blue, and the man wearing it was younger by maybe ten years. He had wayfarer shades on and FBI written all over him.
They approached while Gibbons stood a couple of feet in front of me and shouted, “What in the name of all that is holy have you been doing? Are you completely insane?”
I threw the backpack at his feet. “The sheriff is about to arrive, Gibbons. You better get your DA and your pal from the Bureau to establish jurisdiction. You have everything you need in the way of evidence in what I sent you, what’s in that sack, and in what’s left of the labs downstairs. Did you get a warrant, like I told you?”
He ignored my question. “What do you mean, ‘what’s left of the labs’?”
I laughed again. “Go take a look.” I struggled to my feet. He watched me and for a moment, I saw real rage in his eyes. He looked down at the backpack, picked it up and looked at me again. “What have you done?”
The two suits drew level with him. Blue suit said, “Are you Lacklan Walker?”
I nodded.
He pulled out a badge and showed it to me. “Special Agent Denis Mason.”
I looked at the gray suit. “And you must be the DA.”
He nodded, “Ed Chavez.”
“I’d like to take you gentlemen on a tour of the Institute…” I jerked my head, indicating behind them to where a line of four silver cars from the Green County Sheriff’s Department was approaching at speed down the drive. “But I think we’d be well advised to wait for the deputies. I’m not sure there isn’t somebody still alive down there.”
Gibbons had turned puce. “I swear, Lacklan… I swear…”
The cars pulled up and seven deputies and a sheriff, all in the dark brown uniforms of Green County, climbed out and approached us. The sheriff was a big man with blue eyes and a mustache. He was frowning hard and said, “Is one of you gentlemen Lacklan Walker?”
“That would be me, Sheriff. These gentlemen here are Professor Philip Gibbons, District Attorney Ed Chavez and Special Agent Denis Mason. I think you’ll find that the Feds have jurisdiction here, but I may be wrong.”
He stuck his thumbs in his belt and raised an eyebrow at Mason. “Why don’t we just find out what happened here first, and then we can decide who has what?”
I nodded and looked at Gibbons, then at the DA. The DA looked deeply troubled. Then I turned to Mason, who was trying hard to maintain a poker face.
I said, “What has happened here is that Dr. Theodore Ogden has been conducting some experiments on living human beings. Some of those experiments involved vivisection in the form of cranial and cerebral open surgery. You’ll find somewh
ere in the region of thirty-two of his victims downstairs in the basement, in a dormitory.”
The sheriff was looking at me like I was insane. “Holy shit!” He turned to his deputies, who had gathered behind him. “Get down there and take a look…”
I raised a hand. “Sheriff, there is a lot of bomb damage down there. There are also maybe a dozen corpses, perhaps a few more, including…” I paused and looked at Gibbons. “Including Michael Donnelly, Senator McFarlane’s husband. You are going to need a couple of forensics teams.”
The DA raised both hands. “I have heard more than enough. This clearly falls within the jurisdiction of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I hope, Sheriff, that you will cooperate fully.”
The sheriff didn’t say anything. Mason was already on the phone to the New York field office. Gibbons was looking at me and the expression in his eyes had graduated from rage to something close to hatred. When he spoke, he spat the words at me. “Have you any idea of what you have done? Have you any conception of the damage you have caused? You deliberately destroyed this place!”
Chavez said, “Now hold on a minute, Gibbons…”
I interrupted him. “I didn’t do a damn thing, Gibbons. You want to watch where you throw rocks. You might damage your precious greenhouse.”
The sheriff was peering at me curiously. “What exactly was your role in all this, Walker?”
“Sheriff, I want to cooperate, but in view of the accusations that are flying at the moment, I think I might be well advised to wait until I have spoken to my attorney.”
Chavez said, “Wise words. You’d do well to heed them, Gibbons.”
Mason returned, switching off his phone and slipping it into his pocket.
I said, “The bomb damage is in the basement, in the south wing. You are going to find victims of Ogden’s experimentation in the north wing, in a dormitory. It should be undamaged by the blast. From what I saw last night, I would say that these people are in urgent need of medical care.”
The sheriff turned to Mason. “I’m going to call the ME and have him arrange medical assistance and some ambulances.”
Mason nodded and the sheriff walked away toward his car. I continued. “Upstairs, also in the north wing, you are going to find a similar number of people, confined to their dormitory. But these are not victims. They were participants. I don’t know how much they were aware of, or to what degree they participated, but at least one Dr. Patel was involved with the vivisections. Before the bombs went off, he was going to carry out open brain surgery on me.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, then turned to stare at Gibbons. The look was eloquent. Finally he turned and walked away, toward the sheriff and his deputies. He was pointing at the building and talking loudly. “…position your men at the entrance and at the top floor. I don’t want anybody leaving this place until backup arrives.”
I looked at Gibbons, who was still staring at me with hatred in his eyes. He said suddenly, “I should never have listened to Marni. She is blind to your true nature.”
Suddenly I was sick to my back teeth of him. I shook my head. “What the hell is the matter with you, Gibbons?”
He scowled at me.
I went on. “You got everything you wanted and then some. This damned operation has been blown wide open. With your contacts and the DA’s you can have the press and the media crawling all over this like flies on shit. And you know as well as I do that the one thing Omega fears above all else is exposure. What I have done here could well cripple them.”
He seemed not to have heard me. “I can’t believe that you would deliberately destroy this…”
Before I could answer, Mason came back. I was still frowning at Gibbons, trying to make sense of the intensity of his reaction. I’d known he’d be mad, but I hadn’t expected this. “You sent me here, Gibbons, assuring me that there were no guards. There were eight guards, plus Ogden and twelve men who turned up later, including Donnelly and Ben. And every goddamn one of them was trying to kill me!”
Gibbons said, “Ben? Ben was here?”
“You’ll find his body in the rubble in the basement, along with Donnelly’s.”
Mason was staring hard at me. Suddenly he said, “Lacklan Walker, I am placing you under arrest on suspicion of terrorism, murder in the first degree and theft of state secrets. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may and will be taken down and used in evidence against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, the court will appoint one for you. Please turn around.”
I looked at Gibbons. He was still scowling.
“Really?” I said. I looked at Chavez. He seemed even unhappier than before.
Mason said, “Please turn around, Mr. Walker. Don’t make me use force.”
I gave him my best ironic smile. “Really, Mason? I’ll come with you, but you can shove your cuffs up Gibbons’ ass.”
He nodded once and turned to call to the sheriff again. “Sheriff! A team from the Bureau are on their way. They’ll be here in about half an hour. Secure the area. Don’t touch anything. Don’t let anybody in or out until the agents get here. Understood?” He turned to me. “Come on, Walker, let’s go.”
I didn’t move. I said, “Are you Omega, Agent Mason?”
He shook his head, “No, Walker, I am not.”
I turned to Gibbons. “Are you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “No, of course not. Don’t be absurd!”
I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past eight. I nodded, pushed through them and crossed the lawn toward the chopper, wondering whether or not to throw Gibbons and Mason out over the Catskills.
* * *
I’d been waiting three hours in a large office overlooking Broadway from the 23rd floor of 26 Federal Plaza, in New York. It wasn’t the kind of office you’d expect your run of the mill Special Agent to have. In my book it would have been more like a AD’s office.
Mason eventually showed up at just before one. He dropped a paper bag in front of me with two roast beef sandwiches in it, and put a large plastic cup of coffee on the desk. Then he lowered himself into his black leather chair. He did it with care, like he was worried he might break.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Long night?”
“You could say that.”
I gave a single nod. “Yeah, me too. You’re an AD, right?”
He leaned back and nodded. “Yes. So how about you tell me what happened last night? Let’s start with the part where you explain what the hell the deal is between you and Gibbons, and why he sent you there?”
I bit into a sandwich and watched him while I chewed. After my second bite I said, “Do you remember the tactical nuclear device that was defused at the United Nations, the morning Professor Gibbons and Dr. Marni Gilbert were supposed to give their address on climate change and overpopulation?”
“Of course I remember.”
I took another bite and stabbed my finger several times at the floor while I chewed. “Less than a week before that, I came here, to this field office, to warn you that there was going to be a terrorist attack on the UN. I spoke to Special Agents Harrison Mclean and Daren Jones. First they wouldn’t listen to me. Then, just like you, they tried to arrest me.”
He spread his hands. “I just told you, I’m listening, talk to me.”
I nodded, stuffed the last piece of sandwich in my mouth and pulled the other one out of the bag. “Do you know who defused that bomb?”
“Go ahead, amaze me.”
“Me, I did. You know who arranged to put it there?”
“Has this anything to do with what you were doing at the institute?”
“Everything.”
“Fine, go ahead.”
“Ben Smith. You should find his body in the rubble, if you haven’t already. I don’t know what his real name is, but he was my father’s assistant for years. He masterminded the attempted bombing of the UN, and from the time of my father’s death, until just after I defused the bomb, he co
nsistently tried to recruit me.”
“Into Omega?”
I nodded and bit into the second sandwich.
He sighed. “And you have a background in special ops, so you thought you’d just go in there, take the law into your own hands, and start killing people.”
I gave a small laugh, stuffed the last of the second sandwich into my mouth, chewed and started in on the coffee. “Attractive as that proposition sounds, Mason, no. Gibbons asked me to go on a fact-finding mission. That’s why he fitted me with a camera and a mic, and invited you, the judge and the DA along, remember? Killing these guys is like trying to kill cockroaches. You can’t do it. If you’ll forgive the obviousness of the metaphor, you need to clean the environment, then the infestation dies on its own.”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. “Lacklan, you murdered a leading doctor, the head of a major institute. You murdered a leading attorney from D.C., the husband of a senator, for Christ’s sake! You slaughtered God alone knows how many other men down there, not to mention those three men guarding the premises.”
“Murder is a technical term that you are going to have to prove. I, and my attorneys, are going to argue that it was in self-defense. When I do that, it will emerge that my presence in that building was sanctioned by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the District Attorney and a New York Judge.”
He sighed and sank back in his chair. “You were expressly told not to destroy property or kill people.”
“Come on, Mason! I was also told that there would be no guards. By now you have seen those poor bastards with the scars on their heads! You’ve seen the two corpses in the operating theater! You think the people who did that would balk at killing me? Now how about you tell me the real reason you have me here?”
He turned his head away and stared at the window.
I waited but he didn’t say anything. So I went on. “I figure it has to be one of two things. Either you belong to Omega, or you think Gibbons does.”
