He forced a smile. “Apparently they do it differently in Europe.”
“A waste of a good day, I think.”
It was too good of a lead to pass on. “For them,” he said, “but not for me.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because I can take you and Kusum to lunch as a thank you for your kindness.”
“And who would watch the shop?” Kusum’s mother asked.
“Is no one else coming today?” He already knew the answer. On Thursdays it was just the two of them.
“Do you see anyone else?”
Sanjay bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I had only been hoping. You cannot go, so I understand.” He glanced at Kusum, then back at the mother. “Unless…it would be okay…”
The mother raised an eyebrow. “For you to take Kusum alone?”
“It would only be for lunch.”
“And how long would you be gone?”
“An hour. Two at the most.”
“Two? And I am to be here alone the whole time?”
“Mother,” Kusum said. “Don’t worry. I will stay with you.”
Her mother huffed under her breath. “You would only mope around here all day if I don’t let you go.”
“So she can?” Sanjay asked.
The mother gave him a sideways glance. “As if this was not your plan all along. Yes, she can go.”
“Thank you,” Kusum said, smiling.
“Don’t tell your father. He won’t be happy.”
“Of course.”
Sanjay wanted to rush Kusum out, but he let her take her time making sure there was nothing else her mother needed her to do. Finally, they were walking through the market toward the street.
“And where will we go to eat?” she asked.
“Someplace special.”
“Really?”
He nodded, worried if he said anything more, he would give himself away.
When they reached the street, it took him only a few minutes to find someone who would rent a motorbike to him.
Surprised, Kusum said, “Are we going far?”
“A little far, but don’t worry. You’ll like it.”
She seemed a little hesitant, but climbed onto the back of the bike and put her hands on his waist.
An hour later, as they were riding—now heading east out of the city—she demanded to know where he was taking her. It was another hour, though, before he pulled onto a side road and they got off.
“Take me back! Take me back right now!” she demanded.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Are you kidnapping me? My parents do not have any money.”
“I’m not kidnapping you. I’m saving you.”
“What do you mean? Saving me?”
Without warning, he stabbed the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger. She tried to pull away, but he injected all the vaccine before she did.
“What is this?” she asked, staggering back from him. “Are you drugging me? What is wrong with you, Sanjay?”
“I’m not drugging you. I told you, I’m saving your life.”
He put the other needle into his own arm.
“What is that stuff?”
“A vaccine.”
“A vaccine? For what?”
When he told her, she didn’t believe him.
Not at first.
33
I.D. MINUS 9 HOURS 29 MINUTES
LOCAL TIME 8:31 PM
PALMER GROANED. THE phone was ringing again. How was he supposed to ever get out of there if he had to keep answering it?
As usual, he was the last one in the office. He’d been hoping that in another five minutes, he’d be out the door and on his way to his friend Curtis’s house for the waiting beer and steak he’d been promised. But the damn phone! Every time it rang, it pushed his departure back further and further. Unfortunately, as the owner, he couldn’t quite bring himself to let calls go to voice mail if he was actually there. You never knew when the opportunity for new work might come in.
On the third ring, he grabbed the receiver. “Palmer Transport & Shipping. This is John Palmer.”
“Mr. Palmer, thank God you’re still there. This is Jordan Evans with the World Health Organization.”
Palmer paused, caught off guard. “I’m sorry. Where?”
“WHO. The World Health Organization.”
Palmer leaned back. Maybe this was more work.
“And what can Palmer Transport do for the World Health Organization?”
“We understand that you may have been hired to do some work for a company called Hidde-Kel Holdings. Is that correct?”
Frowning, Palmer said, “I don’t make it a habit to talk about clients.”
“But Hidde-Kel is a client, right?”
“I’ve done some work for them. Why is that important?”
“Did it involve the transportation of any shipping containers?”
“That’s a large part of the work we do here, so it wouldn’t be unusual.”
“And where did you take them?”
“Listen, Mr. Evans. I don’t care who you are with. If you don’t tell me why you’re asking these things, I’ll hang up right now.”
Silence at first, then, “There was apparently a mix-up when Hidde-Kel’s containers were loaded. We believe the contents have been contaminated with material that was meant to be shipped to the Centers for Disease Control in the States.”
Centers for Disease Control?
“What kind of…material are we talking about?”
“Contagious material.”
“What?”
“Mr. Palmer, some, if not all, of the containers you handled for Hidde-Kel could be extremely harmful to whoever opens them up.”
“This is a joke, right? Who is this, really?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer. I wish it were a joke.”
Palmer was stunned.
“There’s another problem,” Evans said. “According to our experts here, there’s a good chance that by tomorrow, the contamination will leak out of the containers and affect anyone nearby.” He paused. “Are you there?”
“I’m here,” Palmer said.
“Listen very carefully. We need you to collect all of the containers that came through your facility and—”
“I’m not going to let my men near those things!”
“I understand your feelings, but I can assure you that at this point, your men won’t be harmed. You have a chance to do something about this. If you don’t, and it starts to affect others tomorrow, you will be responsible.”
“Don’t you try to put this on me.”
“I’m not,” Evans said. “You’re just in the unfortunate position of being caught in the middle. The people who will blame you will be the media when they realize who put the containers in their neighborhoods. How long do you think your business could last after that happened?”
As much as Palmer hated to admit it, the man was right. It wouldn’t matter that he’d just been doing the job he was hired to do. Once he was associated with any problems—or, God forbid, deaths—he’d be ruined.
“What…what do I do with them once I have them?”
“You need to dump them in the sea so that they are completely submerged.”
“I’m sorry. Dump them in the sea?”
“It’s a drastic measure, but the only one that will ensure no one is harmed. We have dispatched a crisis team to your location, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow. They’ll deal with things at that point. But all the containers need to be disposed tonight.”
“Tonight? Do you realize what time it is? It’s getting on nine p.m.”
“This is a health emergency, Mr. Palmer. The time of day is not important.”
Palmer thought for a moment. He could probably round up enough drivers to get the containers in the Perth area, but elsewhere? “Some of the containers are quite far away. I don’t see how I could possibly get them all tonight.”
“It doesn’
t matter where they are. It needs to happen. Can you do it?”
Palmer stared blankly at the wall across from his desk. “I’ll…try.”
“Good. Let me give the number you can call if you have any further questions.”
__________
THERE WERE NEARLY two dozen people in the Bunker making calls around the world, doing whatever they could to put a dent in the Project’s plans.
As soon as Jordan hung up, Matt asked, “Did he buy it?”
“I think so.”
“Will he be able to do it, though?”
“He wasn’t sure, but he was going to try.”
“Okay,” Matt said, wishing the answer had been more definitive. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Jordan nodded, looked down at his list, and dialed the next number.
__________
PALMER LOOKED OUT his window at the night sky.
Contaminated. Extremely harmful to whoever opens them.
How the hell had that happened?
He turned back around and reached for his phone, intending to call his assistant Cora at home and have her get as many drivers as quickly as possible, but he paused, his fingers touching the handset.
Why hadn’t Mr. Vanduffel called him about this? Did the people at Hidde-Kel Holdings not even know? That seemed unlikely.
He hesitated a few seconds longer then called Cora anyway, so that the drivers would be ready to go. As soon as he finished with her, he dialed a much longer number.
“Hidde-Kel Holdings,” a male voice said.
“Mr. Vanduffel, please.”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
“John Palmer. Palmer Transport & Shipping in Perth.”
“One moment, Mr. Palmer.”
It was over a minute before the line clicked.
“Mr. Palmer? I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is there a problem?”
“A big problem. Why didn’t you tell me your containers are contaminated?”
Silence. “Did something happen?”
“I got a phone call is what happened, from someone at the World Health Organization. He tells me your containers are contaminated and I need to dump them in the sea before tomorrow.”
More silence. “Who exactly called you?”
“A man named Jordan Evans.”
“Did he give you a number?”
“Have you not heard from them?”
“No. We haven’t.”
“So you know nothing about this?”
“Not a thing.”
Palmer frowned. “I thought they’d have called you first.”
“Of course they would have. Which leads me to believe this Mr. Evans isn’t who he claims to be.”
“So you think he was lying about them behind contaminated?”
“Mr. Palmer, I can assure you, the only things in those containers are what we put there. Whatever this man told you is a lie. Now, could you give me the phone number? I’d like to check it out.”
After hanging up, Palmer didn’t know what to think. If Mr. Evans had truly been from the WHO, surely he would have called Hidde-Kel by now, but could Palmer take the chance of ignoring the warning?
There was one thing he could do that might answer the question. Check out one of the containers himself. If he took appropriate precautions, he should be able to protect himself from anything inside. The closest one was only ten minutes away, right in Perth.
Making up his mind, he called Cora again. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Just tell everyone to hold tight until I return.”
“Can I at least tell them what you want them to do?”
“I’ll explain everything when I get back.”
He never got that chance. The explosion that killed him when he opened the container meant that no one at Palmer Transport & Shipping knew anything about Mr. Evans’s warning.
34
I.D. MINUS 6 HOURS 49 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 4:11 AM
“ROWAN, REPORT,” SECURITY officer Phillips said into the radio.
Nothing.
“Rowan, this is base. Are you receiving me?”
No response.
Rowan was a minute overdue checking in. Ten minutes ago, in his last report, he had made no indication of problems, radio or otherwise, but with the severe conditions on Yanok Island, that could change in seconds.
“Rowan, this is base. Report.”
Still receiving no response, Phillips contacted the watch officer. This being the day it was, the DOP’s personal aide, Major Ross, was serving in the role.
Ross’s voice came over the receiver. “This is the watch officer.”
“I have a non-response from perimeter security.”
“Who’s out there?”
“Benjamin Rowan, sir.”
“How long is he overdue?”
Phillips glanced at the clock on his screen. “Two minutes.”
The patrol officers were drilled on keeping religiously to their check-in schedules, so even a delay of half a minute was unusual.
“Had he reported any previous problems?”
“No, sir.”
“Send out a search team.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
35
I.D. MINUS 5 HOURS 28 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 5:32 AM
ASH CHECKED THE map, then nodded ahead. “We should be able to see the outpost from that ridge.”
Chloe gave him a nod, but said nothing, conserving her strength.
Around them, the wind was gusting, pushing at their backs as if urging them onward.
When they finally neared the top of the ridge, they dropped to their stomachs and inched the rest of the way up. The outpost was right where he’d expected it, about a quarter-mile away. It was a large structure, clad in snow, with light streaming out through several windows. There was no one visible through them, but it was early so that wasn’t surprising.
“They’re not going to be expecting anyone at this time of morning,” Chloe said. “Might be a good time to try and get in close.”
Ash pulled out their binoculars, flipped them to night vision, and surveyed the landscape ahead. Between the ridge and the outpost, there was no place to hide except against the building itself. As he searched for some way they might be able to sneak in, he couldn’t help but wonder how many people they’d have to get through to stop the Project’s plan before it could begin.
Stop it, he told himself. One task at a time. Just get to the building, and then you can figure out what’s next.
“Take a look,” he said.
As he handed the binoculars to Chloe, something crunched on the ice behind them.
He whirled around just in time to see the dark shape of a man rushing at him. He tried to roll out of the way, but the person piled into his shoulder, knocking him flat on his stomach.
He shoved back against the man’s chest, hoping to push him off so he could get away, but the guy was not only big, he was strong. The attacker pulled Ash to his feet, lifted him in the air, and slammed him back into the hard ice. For several seconds, Ash lay there, unable to move.
As soon as he could, he turned his head to look for Chloe, hoping she’d gotten away. But she was pinned to the ground, by a clone of the guy who’d jumped Ash.
Footsteps again, crunching toward him. Then a new figure stood above him. A hand went up to the face and removed the protective mask. A flashlight flicked on, and suddenly he could see who it was.
“Ash. What a nice surprise,” Olivia Silva said.
__________
THE LAST AND only time Ash had seen Olivia in person was through a transparent wall that looked into the cell she lived in beneath the Bluff. Now their positions were reversed and he was the captive.
“I understand my information helped, and you were able to save your kids,” she said.
He and Chloe were on their feet now, three armed men standing behind them to make sure they didn’t try to run.
“It did. Thank you
,” he said, meaning it.
“And my message? Were you able to deliver it?”
Her only request had been that he give a message to the man who’d taken Ash’s children, the same man who had left Olivia to be captured by Matt’s people.
“I did.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you.”
No one said anything for a moment. Then Ash asked, “So are you going to shoot us here? Or take us inside so your friends can watch?”
“Friends?” she asked, as if she didn’t understand. Then her eyes widened and she smiled. “Oh, I see. Who do you think freed me from my prison?”
“We know who freed you,” Chloe said. “Assholes from Project Eden.”
“I agree with your assessment of them,” Olivia said, “but they weren’t the ones who freed me. It was my friends. Others who had become…disenchanted by the Project.”
Ash looked at her warily. “Then what are you doing here?”
Her gaze turned momentarily in the direction of the outpost hidden behind the ridge. “I have no love for anyone in that building,” she whispered. She looked back at Ash and said in a stronger voice, “I have a feeling you and I have a similar goal.”
“I doubt it.”
“Oh, come, now. Don’t you want to get inside?”
Ash said nothing.
“I thought as much.” She stood up again. “The only way you’ll get in there is with my help.”
“And why would you help us?”
She said nothing for several seconds, then, “Because the last thing I want is for the people who left me to die to be in control of the world they’re trying to create. I’m here to kill them. I assume that’s why you’re here, too.”
There was an edge to her words, a hatred that made him know she was telling the truth. “We’re here to stop them,” he said.
She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Given the circumstances, isn’t that pretty much the same thing?”
Ash remained silent.
“So are you coming with us?” she asked.
He glanced at Chloe. He could see she was reluctant, but had also come to the same conclusion he had.
[Project Eden 02] - Exit 9 Page 22
