V Plague (Book 17): Abaddon

by Patton, Dirk

  “Heard about it. Just wanted to make you squirm a little,” he said, then turned to look Viktoriya up and down.

  She reflexively crossed her arms across her breasts under his scrutiny. He wasn’t ogling her, just getting her measure, and for some reason she didn’t want him to take away a bad first impression. Perhaps it was how Black had instantly deferred to the man. After a five second examination, he removed his hat, stepped forward and extended his hand.

  “Thomas Chapman, ma’am. You may call me Tom.”

  Despite herself, Viktoriya blushed as she gripped his hand. Before she could respond with her name, Black interjected.

  “World of shit coming down, Colonel. Need your help.”

  “Always a world of shit coming down,” Chapman said. “Nothing new there. What’s the particular variety of this fecal deluge?”

  “Maybe we’d better go inside and have a seat,” Black said. “It’s a long story, and I’ve got some audio recordings you should hear.”

  Chapman looked at him for a long moment, then released Viktoriya’s hand and nodded.

  “Follow me.”

  He spun on his heel and nearly double timed toward the house. Black hurried to catch up, Viktoriya running alongside and grabbing his arm so she wasn’t left behind.

  52

  “No shit,” Chapman said, eyes narrowing to slits.

  “No shit,” Black said, nodding confirmation.

  They had just finished listening to several of the audio files Black had copied onto a flash drive.

  A man with a prosthetic leg walked quietly into the room. Leaning down, he handed the Colonel a sheet of paper and disappeared just as silently.

  “Left his leg behind in Iraq,” Chapman explained when he noticed Viktoriya watching the man’s departure.

  He pulled a pair of battered, military issue reading glasses from his breast pocket and settled them on his nose. Quickly scanning the sheet, his only reaction was to briefly look over the top of the paper at them.

  “Okay,” he said, returning the glasses to his pocket. “What aren’t you telling me? Her, for instance.”

  “She’s GRU,” Black said without hesitation. “She’s why we have the recordings.”

  “Well doesn’t that just figure,” Chapman said. “Best looking woman to ever walk through the gate and she’s a damn commie.”

  “We are capitalists, now, in case you were unaware,” Viktoriya said defensively.

  “And you can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig,” the Colonel said, eyes boring into hers.

  Viktoriya started to respond but Black interrupted before things got out of hand.

  “Colonel, it doesn’t matter. What does is we have a traitor who is extremely powerful and dangerous. Who has repeatedly betrayed us to the enemy and is responsible for the attempt on Admiral Packard’s life. I’ll be arrested on sight. Captain West is already in detention. And the clock is ticking. I’m asking you to make the calls.”

  Chapman sat and stared at Black for a long time. Viktoriya was unsure if he was trying to reach a decision or simply trying to make the younger man squirm some more. If it was the latter, it wasn’t working. Black held the Colonel’s gaze with his jaw set in determination.

  “How’d you know I’d know how to reach them?” Chapman finally asked.

  Black smiled before answering.

  “Hell, sir. You know everyone. Rumor has it you had Vice President Cheney’s direct line during the first Iraq war.”

  Chapman snorted a laugh and shook his head.

  “His boss, actually,” he said, then bounced to his feet. “Mess is that way, if you’re hungry. I’ve got some calls to make.”

  He swept out of the room and Black let out a big breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “These men he is calling. They can help?”

  “They can. But will they?”

  Black got to his feet and extended his hand to help her to hers. Only after they touched did it strike him that they were growing comfortable with each other. Unsure if that was a good idea, he quickly pulled away. Viktoriya looked at him a beat before reaching out and grabbing his hand.

  Moving close, she looked up into his eyes. He tried to step away, but it was only a halfhearted attempt and she maintained a firm grip on his hand. For several beats, neither moved, then Black leaned in and tentatively brushed her lips with his. She responded, and they kissed for several seconds before breaking apart.

  It should have been awkward, the way the first kiss usually is, but it wasn’t. Viktoriya was the first to smile and soon both were grinning like there wasn’t another care in the world.

  “This is not a good idea,” Black said, staring into her eyes.

  “Best idea I have had in a long time,” she responded.

  “Jesus. You don’t ever slow down, do you?”

  Viktoriya sighed and took a step back.

  “The world is dying. Mostly dead, already. Old governments and alliances and politics no longer matter. What does is that those of us still alive must stop the few who want to destroy everything that remains.”

  Black blinked in surprise. He had wondered about her true motivations, but they’d never had the opportunity for a conversation about them.

  “Not what you expected, am I?” she asked.

  “You haven’t been since the moment I met you. But I don’t...”

  She stared at him, waiting, but he didn’t finish his thought.

  “You don’t, what?”

  “Think this is a good idea,” he said again, shrugging slightly.

  “Afraid of the big, bad GRU girl?” she asked teasingly.

  “Honestly, yeah, a little.”

  She frowned and stared at him. Waiting. After a long, silent pause, he sighed.

  “Okay. I’m a US Marine. You’re a Russian intelligence officer. In case you’d forgotten, our two countries are at war.”

  She slowly shook her head as he finished speaking.

  “First of all, I am not interested in a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. Is that not what all you Americans strive for? More importantly, our two countries are no more. Our respective leaders have managed to kill almost the entire population of both nations, as well as the rest of the world. As I see it, we have but one viable course forward.”

  “And what’s that, comrade?”

  They both turned in surprise, neither having heard Colonel Chapman reenter the room. Viktoriya met his eyes and continued.

  “We must stop the people who are intent upon continuing this madness before there are none of us left. And I shall be frank. We do not arrest them. No trials. No prisons. We remove them from the equation. Completely. Regardless of who they are, they are a threat, a poisonous threat not only to our countries, but to our species!”

  “Then what?” Chapman asked. “Everyone join hands and sing kumbaya?”

  “If that is what the people want to do, then yes! Regardless, we are at a crossroads. One direction will lead to more and more death until the point of no return is reached. We, the human race, will simply vanish from the face of the earth.

  “The other path will be bloody. I have no illusions of that. But it is necessary if there is to be a future for our children.”

  “And just how far do we go?” Black asked.

  “Until any and every person, Russian or American, who favors continued conflict is gone. The toxicity of the past must be identified and eradicated. If we are successful, I cannot predict what the final outcome will be. Perhaps the surviving Russians and Americans will never be able to live side by side. Perhaps they will. There is still an opportunity to find out. But the clock is ticking, gentlemen.”

  When Viktoriya was finished speaking, the room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The two men stared at her. She looked back and forth between them, the determination in her eyes clear to see.

  “Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out. That it?” Chapman asked, breaking the silence.

  “
God wants nothing to do with this,” she said. “We made the mess, it is time for us to clean it up.”

  53

  The storm was unlike any other I’d experienced. Wind battered the building, searching for any irregularity to grab and start pulling on. The broken panel that I’d had to shoot free from its damaged roller flapped alarmingly, letting a continual stream of stinging and choking dust inside. As the storm intensified, it began to bend and I didn’t think it would be long before it was ripped free, exposing us to the fury that was raging outside.

  Making a quick tour of the interior, I searched for anything I could use for a temporary fix. An electric welder caught my eye, but it wasn’t for use on aluminum, which is what the door was constructed of. Dismissing it, I moved on and eyed the rapidly disintegrating panel as I uttered a few words that Mavis probably didn’t need to hear. She was following me around, Dog at her side, as I tried to come up with a solution.

  “What about bracing it?” she asked.

  I looked at the panel, which was only five feet above the floor now that the door was closed. I restarted my circuit, dashing to the back wall when I spotted something that might work. A loud, metallic ping sounded as I snatched a fistful of ratchet straps that were dangling from a peg.

  “It’s tearing apart!” Mavis shouted.

  Running to the door, I moved into the blast of wind driven sand coming through the breach and hooked one end of a strap onto the door’s rail. Stretching it out, I hooked on the opposite rail with the thick band running across the center of the panel. Fingers fumbling at first, I finally got the lever moving and quickly tightened it down.

  The panel was slowly forced into place, then the thin metal above and below the strap began to bend inwards under the storm’s assault. Working fast, I ran a strap across the top of the panel, then a third at the bottom. It wasn’t perfect, but it was holding. The amount of sand blowing in had been reduced to a fraction of what it had been with the large opening, but I’d also created narrow gaps. The ideal shape for the gusts to create an intense whistle that rose and fell with the wind speed.

  “Think it’ll hold?” Mavis asked, standing at my side.

  I watched for a few moments, noting that the entire door was flexing inward under the strongest gusts.

  “It’ll hold,” I said, more confidently than I felt. “Look around and see what you can find that we might need.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like whatever,” I said. “Water’s always good. So are clean towels, or maybe even paper towels. Ziggy’s gonna need to clean up her kids.”

  I looked down at Mavis, unable to stop myself from chuckling. Her coal black hair was frosted with red dust and it had also collected in her eyebrows.

  “What?” she asked defensively.

  “Hold still.”

  I wiped her brows clean then tilted her head forward and ruffled her hair. She got the idea and vigorously rubbed until the frosted tips were no more.

  “What happened inside?” she asked when she looked back up.

  “Something big in there. Killed Smyth and the others.”

  Her eyebrows shot up.

  “You mean like a monster?”

  “Don’t know what it was. It was just damn big.”

  She looked at me for a moment before rushing forward and wrapping her arms around my waist. I automatically held her as neither of us said anything further.

  Smyth and Natalie. Shit! I needed to tell her.

  Gently prying Mavis’s arms away, I told her to get busy looking for supplies and turned to the truck. Rachel was moving toward me and I could see Natalie with her face in her hands in the back.

  “I told her,” Rachel said softly.

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to. I was going to.”

  “You were busy, and she was worried about where he was. Wasn’t going to lie to her.”

  I took a breath and nodded slowly. Allowed myself to think about the three men. I’d known Smyth for a lot of years... well, we’d worked together a lifetime ago. I didn’t really know him. But he was Lucas’s right hand and that meant he was a good man.

  “Lucas know?”

  Rachel nodded. I was reaching out to pull her close when I saw Lucas drop down out of the back of the truck. He walked to where we stood, moving better than I expected.

  “Sorry about Smyth,” I said.

  “Fuckin’ sucks,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Bloody tired of losin’ mates.”

  I settled for nodding even though I enthusiastically agreed with his sentiment.

  “Any idea what the fuck could be down there? Had to be a wild animal.”

  “Guy that owned this place was a nutter. Rumor had it he was dealing in the exotic animal trade. Big money to be made. So, you’re guess is as good as mine. But we should go nuke the fuckin’ place and turn whatever it is into toast.”

  “On the way out,” I said, nodding. “After the storm passes.”

  “How are you feeling?” Rachel interjected, getting us off the topic of revenge for the fallen.

  “Gettin’ better,” Lucas answered. “Itch everywhere, though. And it hurts like hell where you gave that shot in the stomach.”

  Rachel’s brows knitted in concern and she gently lifted the front of his shirt.

  “Light,” she said without looking at me.

  I removed the one from my rifle’s rail and clicked it on, shining the beam on Lucas’s exposed abdomen. An angry welt the size of a large orange surrounded a red dot that marked the injection site of the rabies treatment Rachel had administered.

  “That normal?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” she said. “I need to call Joe.”

  “Gotta wait for the storm to pass. No signal inside a metal building.”

  She nodded and lowered Lucas’s shirt.

  “Get some rest,” I said to my friend. “Heading for Woomera when the wind stops.”

  He gave me a questioning look and I explained we were getting airlifted to Hawaii.

  “Don’t think I’m going,” he said. “This is my home.”

  “Better talk to your wife, then,” I said.

  Lucas glanced at the truck where Ziggy was washing little John. Apparently, Mavis had succeeded in finding a jug of water and some clean towels.

  “Why, what did she say?”

  “The same thing I’d say,” Rachel interrupted again. “She’s worried about you and knows there’s nothing left here. At least there’s medical care in America.”

  “I’m feeling better,” he protested. “What’s the big deal.”

  Rachel and I traded glances.

  “No one said anything?” I asked in disbelief.

  “What, goddamn it?”

  “Um, well, you were bleeding out and we didn’t exactly have a blood bank on hand. You got a transfusion from me.”

  “Yeah. So? What’s the big deal? You got some disease or...”

  His voice trailed off as realization dawned. Standing there, all he could do was stare at my red eyes.

  “Sorry, mate. It was the only way to save you.”

  He shook his head for several seconds, trying to comprehend the news I’d just delivered. He finally turned to face Rachel.

  “So, this is why I’m feeling better? The bloody virus?”

  “It may be the only reason you’re alive,” she said. “It’s certainly the only explanation for how you’re already back on your feet. And despite all the antibiotics I’ve pumped into you, there should be some sign of at least a mild infection, but there isn’t.”

  Lucas looked back and forth between us. In any other circumstances, the expression on his face would have been hilarious. Now, it bordered on heartbreaking.

  “Ziggy know?” he asked quietly.

  My mouth opened in surprise and I blinked a couple of times. He still didn’t get it. Not all of it.

  “Damn, Lucas. You look just like me. You’ve got the same red eyes. So, yeah, she knows. And she’s kind of pissed at
me, too.”

  “And she’s terrified she’s going to lose you, which I can relate to,” Rachel added. “Do her a favor and don’t argue about going to Hawaii. She’ll win anyway, so don’t make her go through that. Okay?”

  Lucas nodded and looked away before turning to go be with his family.

  54

  Vance and Jessica sat in the cockpit of the hypersonic transport. He watched intently as she carefully inserted the second of the two command modules into its slot.

  After the system at Pearl managed to crack the encryption key, she had spent the majority of the past twenty-four hours on the phone with the aerospace engineer in Hawaii. Together, they had examined every line of code. Ninety percent of it made no sense to Jessica, but fortunately it did to him.

  Two hours ago, he had cried out in triumph so loudly that she’d been startled, even over the phone. A single section of code that managed the aircraft’s control surfaces during transition to hypersonic flight had an error. Actually, it wasn’t an error. It was a typo.

  “Hoo, boy,” he’d said. “Bet that made the test pilot’s ass pucker up and churn buttermilk! Wonder how long those fellas been trying to figure out why the bird was unstable over Mach five.”

  Jessica had been unable to hold in a snort of laughter at an expression she’d never heard before. Smiling, she saved his changes before they continued to examine the remaining code. Just because they’d found one error didn’t mean they were done.

  But ninety minutes later, their examination was complete. Thanking the engineer, she’d disconnected the call and data link then compiled the software and loaded it onto the two modules. Now, with the freshly updated hardware, Vance reached out and placed his hand on the master power control.

  “Sure you didn’t get them backwards?”

  Jessica froze for a beat, staring at the half-seated piece of hardware, then continued her work.

  “You can be an asshole sometimes, sir,” she said under her breath.

  “Least I haven’t hit on you,” he said with a big grin. “Must be some kind of record for me.”