Judy spoke into her walkie-talkie. “We’ve got another one over here,” she said.
Locke heard someone reply that he was on his way.
“This isn’t the first bone you’ve found?” He bent over for a closer look.
Judy shook her head and started to speak. “We…”
Before she could say more, a voice behind Locke said, “Don’t touch that!”
He turned to see a man fully garbed in a biohazard suit approach. He took a photo of the bone, then gingerly picked it up and placed in a plastic bag. After he marked it, he left without saying another word.
“I’m sorry,” Judy said. “I thought you’d been briefed.”
“We just got the basics from Aiden MacKenna before we headed out here,” Locke said. “What the hell is going on, Judy?”
“That bone is why the hazmat team is here. Because of the condition of the remains, the FBI was worried about biological or chemical residues. The closest team was an Army unit from Dugway Proving Grounds in Utah. Didn’t find anything. They gave us the all-clear to start our processing yesterday afternoon.”
“How many bodies have you recovered so far?”
“None.”
“What?” Locke said, incredulous. “You must have found some by now. According to the manifest I saw, there were 27 people on board.”
“We’ve found remains from at least twenty people, but no bodies.”
“By remains, you mean hands, torsos, things like that?”
“No. That row of bags you saw before contains nothing but bones.”
Locke was speechless. Grant looked like he felt — completely shocked.
“How is that possible?” Locke finally said.
“We have no idea,” Judy said. “All we know is that before the plane crashed, something reduced every single person on board to skeletons.”
Coleman
EIGHTEEN
It had taken eight hours for Gavin Dean to return to Washington once the yacht had docked in Halifax. Garrett made sure that the leader of the failed mission on Scotia One had been told only that he was to appear immediately at the Orcas Island compound. Surely, he expected a dressing down for his failure, but he didn’t know how harsh it would be.
Barry Pinter, who had been given the task of eliminating Dilara Kenner as she left the airport, had already arrived at the compound and was helping with the last preparations for the upcoming days. Cutter was bringing them both down now that the observers were ready.
A retinue of Garrett’s top scientists and operatives gathered nervously in the observation room. Other than a few murmurs, they were quiet. They knew something important was about to occur, but they didn’t know the nature of it. Garrett, who stood at the window next to Svetlana Petrova, watched them. Good. They were in just the frame of mind he wanted. He pushed a button on the control board.
“Let’s begin,” he said into the microphone.
A door opened inside the test chamber, silencing the last whispers. Cutter led two men into the steel gray room. The first was Gavin Dean, a compact man with a crew cut and a tight-fitting black t-shirt that showed off a lean physique.
The second man was Barry Pinter, about a foot taller than Dean and at least 50 pounds heavier. He walked with the grace of a cat. Both men were veterans of Army special ops units: Dean with the Rangers, Pinter with the Green Berets.
Garrett looked at both of them dispassionately. He didn’t enjoy what was about to happen. It was simply necessary. It was a shame to part with them, but the project had reached a critical point, and he couldn’t take any chances. He needed to make examples of them.
Cutter left the room and closed the door behind him. A bar slammed down, the unmistakable sound of the door being locked. Dean and Pinter, who knew each other from previous operations, looked at each other, the confusion now turning to alarm. Then they surveyed the room, which they had never seen before.
The test chamber’s floor was made entirely from steel grating. Garrett had it forged from carbon steel that was exceptionally resistant to high temperatures. Above them, the ceiling was another grating that fed into a sophisticated venting system comprising 14 advanced filters. The sides of the room were inch-thick steel, and the observation window was made of a high-tech polymer that allowed it to be extremely thick without distorting the view.
The only object inside the chamber was a full-face gas mask lying on the floor.
Garrett keyed the microphone so that Dean and Pinter could hear what he was about to say to the observers.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. You are obviously wondering why everyone is here today. That’s good. Curiosity is one of the reasons I have recruited you for this epic journey. As you all know, we are very close to embarking on this voyage. Unfortunately, I am aware that some of the people involved with this project may be having second thoughts.”
Everyone in the gathered group was stone-faced. None wanted to betray any thoughts of that kind, especially if they were, indeed, harboring them.
“I understand that feeling. This is a huge undertaking. One that will change the face of this planet. A change that I — that we — believe will ultimately save the human race. But sacrifices will have to be made. From all of us. And I think some of you may be having trouble facing that reality.”
Garrett glanced into the chamber, and he could see fear on the faces of both Dean and Pinter. He casually noted that they were both surreptitiously eyeing the gas mask.
“Therefore, I thought it was important that we reinforce our resolve for the task ahead. That we can brook no wavering, no second thoughts, no betrayal, no failure. We must stay focused on the task at hand. And so, I have brought these two men here today.” Garrett waved his hand at the window. “Two men who have failed us, all of us, and put everything we have worked for at risk.”
He turned to the window. “Gavin. Barry. You are going to show these people why it is so important for each and every one of us to do our jobs with utmost competence. You will show them what’s at stake.”
Pinter ran to the door, prying at it, trying to find purchase to open it, but it was useless. The door was triple bolted and sealed. There was no way to open it from the inside. Dean simply stood there, stoic, waiting to hear what was next.
“There is only one gas mask for a reason,” Garrett continued. “In sixty seconds, the test chamber will be flooded with Arkon-B, a form of the biological agent that will make our New World possible. Whoever is wearing the gas mask will be spared its effects. The other…”
That was all it took. Pinter lunged for the mask, but Dean, who had always been the smarter one, knew the most effective strategy was to disable the other man. He sidestepped Pinter and chopped him on the back as he went by. Pinter fell to the floor and realizing his mistake, popped back up and faced Dean in a fighting stance. Both men were skilled in martial arts, but Pinter had the size advantage. They stood there, assessing each other.
Garrett glanced at his watch.
“Fifty seconds,” he said to spur them on.
The words had the intended affect. Dean leapt into the air and spun around, his leg kicking out. Before it could connect with his head, Pinter ducked and threw his arm up to block it. The impact sent them both sprawling. Pinter was the first to recover and ran over to Dean, who was still on his back. Pinter lashed out with his leg, trying to hit Dean in the side. Dean grabbed Pinter’s ankle and twisted it around, using Pinter’s momentum to propel his body over Dean. While Pinter was in mid-air, Dean slashed at his groin.
Pinter crumpled to the ground, moaning in pain, but he wasn’t finished. Dean coiled to strike a killing blow to Pinter’s neck. Pinter countered with a punch to Dean’s face, sending him reeling. Both of them sat on the floor, regrouping for the last battle.
“Thirty seconds,” Garrett said. With two men like that, it would never occur to them to work together and share the mask. It was an unfortunate example of why his New World was even necessary. The basest human self
ishness was on display right in front of them. A fitting demonstration given the circumstances. Garrett just hoped that one wouldn’t kill the other. Then he would have to send Cutter in to take the mask away from the victor.
Dean and Pinter circled around each other. Pinter had a noticeable limp that he was attempting to hide, while blood flowed freely from Dean’s nose.
Cutter, who had now returned to the observation room and stood at Garrett’s side, whispered to him, “What would happen if the winner had a cut?”
Garrett hadn’t considered the possibility that the winner would have exposed wounds on his body, but it would make an interesting test to see how virulent the Arkon-B was, to see if it could enter the bloodstream in that way.
“I suppose we might be about to find out.”
Dean and Pinter went at each other with a furious set of blows that was hard for Garrett to follow. Then Pinter positioned himself so that he could get Dean in a headlock. He squeezed Dean’s throat, and this looked like it might be the decisive move.
“Fifteen seconds,” Garrett said and nodded at the operator at the control board. The operator’s finger hovered over the button that would release the Arkon-B.
Dean’s face was now turning a shade of purple. It was almost over. Then with a last bit of effort, Dean angled his body slightly and kicked backwards, striking Pinter at the knee. Pinter howled in pain and released Dean, who immediately struck at the other leg. Pinter screamed and went down holding both legs. From what Garrett could see, it looked like a dislocated right knee and a broken left leg. Pinter wouldn’t be walking again.
Dean stood there, staring at Pinter to see if he could finish him off safely, forgetting about the time limit. Garrett started counting down. “Ten, nine, eight…”
Dean looked up at the speaker, then scrambled for the mask.
“Seven, six, five…”
He grabbed it off the floor and slipped it over his head.
“Four, three, two…”
As Garrett said “one,” Dean cinched the straps tight and turned his attention back to Pinter who was still crumpled on the floor. He stared at Dean with a look of pure hatred.
Garrett again nodded at the operator, who pressed the button. A whoosh of air could be heard in the test chamber. Dean and Pinter looked down at the floor. A continuous blast of air buffeted their clothing toward the ceiling.
Garrett could sense the others in the room holding their collective breath. He knew they wouldn’t have to wait long. The Arkon-B used in Hayden’s airplane was exactly the same composition as the agent flooding over Dean and Pinter now, but the concentration had been one-hundredth what it was in the test chamber because the delivery device on the plane had to be small and portable. That’s why it had taken so long to take effect and why they had selected an overseas flight. By the time anyone on Hayden’s plane knew what was happening, they should have been too far from shore to return in time.
Pinter had pulled himself over to a wall and leaned against it. His face was a rock, but Garrett could see the carefully hidden fear in his eyes. Dean retreated to the opposite side and kept a wary eye on him in case he made a try for the mask. Even if he did, it was too late for Pinter. He’d already been exposed. It was now simply a matter of time.
As Garrett expected, the first effects were evident in only two minutes. Pinter began to cough, just one or two at first, then almost constantly. His lungs had been the first organs to be attacked, and the Arkon-B would now be coursing through his bloodstream.
The cough turned into a hoarse hacking, and a trickle of blood started to drip from his mouth. Pinter felt the wetness and wiped at it. He saw the blood and was suddenly gripped with terror.
“Please! I’m sorry!” he screamed between coughs. “Please! Help me!” His eyes fell on Dean, who watched him with wide eyes.
The trickle of blood from Pinter’s mouth became a torrent, and gasps of horror and muffled cries erupted from the observers. Pinter’s skin began to slough off, in flakes at first, then entire pieces. Pinter was dissolving in front of them.
He could only moan in agony now. Then his hand flew to his throat, and he gasped for air. No doubt his lungs were filled with fluid. He was drowning in his own blood.
Death took only another 30 seconds. With a final gurgle, Pinter succumbed, his eyes staring at Dean. His head fell backward against the wall, removing a large patch of skin, and the back of his head left a smear of blood as his body pitched over onto the floor.
Some of the observers cried out or even wept in disgust and fear, but Garrett raised his hand, silencing them. They weren’t done.
As they watched, Pinter’s body continued to deteriorate, as if they were watching a time-lapse video of a rotting corpse decaying. The sores all over his body expanded to holes, and gore oozed out over the mesh floor, the liquid dripping through the gaps in the grating. The blood on the wall quickly disappeared, as if it were water evaporating on a hot skittle.
Garrett took a look around the room, and everyone’s eyes were riveted in terror on Pinter’s disintegrating body. A few of them looked like they were about to faint. One woman vomited into a wastebasket. The demonstration was having its intended effect. Anyone in this room that was even thinking about following in Sam Watson’s traitorous footsteps wouldn’t consider it now.
Every cell of Pinter’s flesh was attacked, and within another three minutes, nothing was left of him except his bones, picked clean as if he’d been consumed by a ravenous school of piranhas. His skull, which had been a human face a mere five minutes before, grinned at the observation window in a perverse leer.
The operator pressed the button again, and the whoosh of air stopped.
“And that concludes today’s demonstration,” Garrett said. “I’m sure everyone found it instructive. If you don’t want to be part of the masses that will be exposed to Arkon in five days, you will do nothing to jeopardize our carefully-laid plans. Am I understood?”
A few of them said “yes” immediately, while the rest nodded eagerly.
Satisfied, Garrett said, “You may go.” He nodded at the woman who had vomited. “Take the wastebasket with you.”
They filed out quietly, still dumbfounded by what they had witnessed. Inside the test chamber, Dean yelled through his mask and pounded on the door.
Garrett let the last of the observers exit and closed the door behind them. The only ones left were the operator, Cutter, Petrova, and Garrett.
“What about Dean?” Cutter asked. “Should I let him out?”
The operator, who knew how Arkon-B worked, raised an eyebrow at Cutter. Cutter was aware of many of the biological agent’s properties, but he didn’t realize how virulent it was.
Garrett shook his head solemnly. “I’m afraid we can’t. Although Gavin is wearing the mask, he has been exposed as well. Arkon-B can be absorbed through the skin, albeit much more slowly than through the lungs. We can’t allow him to leave the chamber now that he’s been infected. He’d be the death of us all. There’s only one thing we can do for him now.”
Garrett glanced at the operator, who muttered something under his breath, maybe a prayer. He flipped up a safety panel and positioned his finger against a red switch marked “Sterilize.”
“This will spare Gavin from what Barry went through,” Garrett said. He nodded at the operator. “Go ahead.” The operator flicked the switch.
Flames shot up through the grating, leaping all the way to the ceiling. Dean screamed as the fire bathed him, and he danced around in agony for only a few seconds before he fell to the floor, his body quickly vaporizing. Garrett saw that the temperature in the chamber had already shot up to 1000 degrees and was rising. Soon nothing organic would be left in the chamber, with even the bones being sucked up into the ventilation shafts as ash to be filtered out and disposed of safely.
“Another two minutes,” Garrett said to the operator. They needed to be sure that all the Arkon-B was destroyed. How ironic, Garrett thought, that just a few f
eet away was the deadliest substance in existence, and yet in five days, where he was standing would be the safest place on earth.
NINETEEN
The flight from Las Vegas to Seattle hadn’t taken much longer than the road trip back from the crash site to the airport, so it was only two in the afternoon when Locke and Dilara landed. He led her from the Gulfstream to Gordian’s facility at Seattle’s Boeing Field. With three jets, Gordian rated a designated ramp at the airport just south of the city’s downtown.
The early October day was unseasonably warm and uncharacteristically bright. The clouds that seemed ever present in the winter hadn’t yet arrived, revealing a great view of the Olympics and Mt. Rainier sparkling in the distance.
Locke stopped at a sleek red sports car and popped the hood to reveal a tiny trunk. He tossed his bag inside, then unhooked a cord from the wall and retracted it into the car.
“What’s that for?” Dilara asked.
“The battery charger,” Locke said, climbing into the drivers’ seat. Dilara got in the passenger side. “This is a Tesla. Completely electric. Fully charges in six hours.”
He pushed a button to start the car. A polite ping announced that the Tesla was operating, but otherwise the car was silent. Locke dropped it into gear and eased it out of the lot. When he was on Highway 99, he floored it. The Tesla leapt forward like it was launched from a catapult. Within seconds, they were cruising at 80.
“So you do get to try out your toys,” Dilara said.
“Not a bad perk, is it? We’re testing a second one down at the TEC. They let me borrow this one for everyday driving. I get to keep it for a while as long as I give them feedback on how to improve it for the next version.”
One of Locke’s side hobbies was testing and reviewing cars on a freelance basis. His personal vehicles — the ones he actually paid for himself — were a Dodge Viper, a Porsche Cayenne SUV, and a Ducati motorcycle, but he loved driving the newest thing on wheels. The Tesla was his for a few more weeks. Then he’d move on to something else. Maybe the new Ferrari coming out next month.
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