Scott’s head swiveled around, his eyes going to where Blake had been standing, just as he was tackled by two men in dark suits. He saw nothing afterward but the floor rushing up to meet him. “Agent Scott Evers,” he shouted or tried to, as the side of his face was crushed into the cold marble surface beneath him by a knee and the gun was pried out of his hand.
Chapter 13
Mediterranean Sea
Afternoon, Wednesday, 20 June
Rough hands picked Scott up off the ground and twisted him around. His thoughts swam and his ears rang, but he managed to find his footing.
“Get off him. He’s one of us,” Scott heard Edie say. To the men at her side, she said, “Lock the scene down. Only medical support staff and security in or out. Get the VIPs to the pre-selected safe houses.”
Scott felt his face flush as a realization hit him. “Get hazmat. Don’t let a soul leave,” he shouted. “Everyone stays. The British Prime Minister. Everyone! Understood?”
Edie’s eyes told him she didn’t understand but he heard her relay the message just the same. “Scott, talk to me,” she said, pulling him away.
Scott stared into the ballroom, his eyes searching. “It’s all a staged distraction. The bomb, the attack just now, everything. It’s all meant to draw our eyes away from what’s really happening.”
He spun left then right, his gaze landing on the exit doors in the far corner.
Edie pulled at him. “Talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t just—”
“The virus. It’s here. We’re too late,” he said. “They’ve already released it. We’re the delivery vehicle for the world.”
He heard the shock in Edie’s voice as she gave orders to her team through the headset. Something about hazmat, biocontainment, omega protocol.
He raced off to the exit and burst out into a back hall. Continuing through and down the hall, he came to another set of doors. Opening the doors caused a proximate alarm to sound and beyond he saw the rear courtyard of the palace.
Stepping outside brought the response of a lone guard and Scott drew down on him. “Gun, two fingers, slowly.”
The guard removed his weapon as instructed.
“Toss it,” Scott said.
“Scott, what are you doing?” Edie said, coming up behind him.
Scott raised his injured hand and waved her around. To the guard, he said, “A man came through here.” It was a statement, not a question. “You let him through. Where did he go?”
The guard pointed to a rear gate in the high brick wall of the courtyard. “Take him down,” Scott shouted to Edie as he hurried off.
He’d taken only two steps when he heard the guard hit the ground with a resonant thud. This was followed by the distinctive clicks of zip tie cuffs being pulled into place.
“I’m an expert shot. Move and you get a bullet,” Edie shouted. Then to those listening on headsets, she said, “Rear courtyard. Suspected accomplice restrained. In foot pursuit of David Owen Blake. All teams respond. Lock down, two-block radius. Situation omega, repeat omega.”
The sound of tires screeching to a halt drew Scott’s gaze. He saw Blake, already half a block away, darting through traffic and nearly being crushed by a speeding car. Blake was headed for the harbor.
“Scott, you sure about this?” Edie said over the headset.
“Beyond a doubt,” he said. “Got Blake in my sights, running southeast toward the waterfront.”
Scott sprinted across the street. The harbor was only two blocks away. From his vantage point atop the hill, he could see it in the distance, in the space between the buildings. With the afternoon sun behind him, there were long shadows all around him, but the blue of the sea was unmistakable and it drew him along until he continued down the hill where it was lost to him behind buildings built near the waterfront.
For a few seconds, he was alone, gun in hand, weaving his way along past shops and eateries with tables out front for customers. “Polizia di Stato,” he shouted at worried onlookers as their puzzled shouts rose around him.
Soon Scott heard the heavy patter of Edie’s bare footfalls, closing the distance between them. That she’d taken off her sandals to run didn’t surprise him. He was amazed she could run at all in the sleek, formal black dress she was wearing.
He vaulted across an intersection, barely remembering to look for oncoming cars. Although Scott could still see him, Blake was a long way ahead, nearly to the buildings fronting the water. As a blue Renault Mégane Coupé started to pull out of parking spot in front of him, Scott slammed his fists into the hood, drawing the ire of the owner, who jumped out of her car and started shouting.
“Mi dispiace,” Scott said to the woman. In the time it took him to turn his head and apologize, Edie caught up to him and was at his side.
“Always were a real charmer, Evers,” Edie said.
“Polizia di Stato,” Scott said, stepping around the woman and getting into the driver’s seat despite her protestations. The gun in his hand ensured she kept her distance. As he brought the Renault around, scraping past other cars, the woman crumpled onto her haunches in a fit of hysteria and tears.
“Your emergency money,” Scott said to Edie, “Toss it out the window.”
Edie turned up empty hands. As he glanced over at her, Scott noticed the only things she carried were her shoes and her handgun. He also noted the split in her skirt that went all the way up to her hip.
“Had to be done,” she said.
“I can see that,” he said, launching the sleek coupe down the street by stomping on the gas. He saw Blake far ahead, running even faster than before, no doubt having seen Scott and Edie get into the car.
“What are you thinking, Scott?” Edie said. “I need to know. Command over secure connect is screaming in my ears. I need to tell them something. Dignitaries are already threatening to have their security break through the lockdown unless they’re told what exactly is going on.”
Scott squeezed the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “I’m sure your cover scenarios will hold a few minutes more. Tell them anything they need to hear…” His voice trailed off as he came up on a quick turn.
“Except the truth,” Edie said into the silence.
“The truth won’t help. Tell that group what’s really happened and they’ll be fleeing en masse. No, our best hope is to catch Blake and take him alive. Alive we can get answers. A man like that doesn’t martyr himself for a cause—even his own. If he was breathing the same air as everyone else, you can bet that S.O.B has an antiviral treatment.”
Chapter 14
Mediterranean Sea
Afternoon, Wednesday, 20 June
Edie worked to calm command while Scott made a sharp turn onto Saint Barbara Bastion. Ahead of them Blake had just reached the tree line at the retaining wall overlooking the embankment. The surprise on the other man’s face told Scott that he didn’t expect the steep drop that separated him from the waterfront.
“Got this S.O.B. now,” Scott said as he gunned the engine.
As he closed the gap, Scott could see Blake was considering going over the wall and dropping down. Hanging over the edge would take away a few feet of the drop, but there still would be another twelve feet or so to go. It wouldn’t kill him, but he likely wouldn’t walk away from such a drop without injury.
Scott drove right at Blake, skidding to a stop just inches away from the wall. As he and Edie jumped out of the car, guns at the ready, Blake stepped up onto the top of the wall, looking back to watch his pursuers’ approach. Most men in such a situation would have a look of desperation, but Blake was a man in control and unafraid. He even had a grin on his face that seemed to say he thought he’d won. But he hadn’t won anything yet and Scott told himself he was going to prove the point.
As Scott dashed closer, Blake spun around and locked eyes with him, a broadening smirk on his lips. “I am the angel come down from heaven, the dragon freed from the chain, unstoppable,” Blake said. “Purification by he
llfire is the only way. The only way to ensure mankind’s future. Don’t you see that?”
Scott glanced at Edie, giving her a subtle nod. “Save your proselytizing for the weak and damaged. I see only lambs led to slaughter by a maniac.”
While Scott antagonized, Edie made her move, launching herself at Blake, but Blake was suddenly airborne, having taken a step backward into empty air. Then he was hanging by his fingertips to the top of the wall while Scott and Edie tried desperately to grab his arms and pull him back up.
“A thousand years in the pit is long enough,” Blake said clawing his way to freedom. He landed with a crash, going to his knees before he rose and started to limp away, favoring his right leg and limping every time he stepped with his left.
On his stomach beside Edie, Scott peered over the edge of the wall. Edie had Blake in her sights and was ready to take a shot. Below them, Scott saw a sidewalk, parked cars and Blake trying to make his way to the street. Beyond the street, there was a narrow parking lot, and the boardwalk along the waterfront that also served as a dock for boats.
“Alive, we need him alive,” Scott said as he slid over the wall and extended his arms as far as he could while holding on by his fingertips.
“Just a love tap on the right side to even him out,” Edie said as she squeezed the trigger and planted a round in the back of Blake’s right calf.
As Scott dropped to the hard stones below, he could hear Blake screaming and howling. He landed with a thud, feet first and then immediately threw himself sideways to distribute the landing shock from the balls of his feet to his calves, thighs, hips and back in much the same way parachutists did to land safely and without injury.
By the time Scott got to his feet and started moving, Blake was nearly across the street, dragging himself toward the harbor. Behind and up above him, Scott heard tires screeching and knew Edie was behind the wheel of the Renault, circling around to the waterfront.
“Don’t you see?” Blake said. “The technological singularity comes. Machine-based intelligences greater than our own are already here. How long before they master the methods of our biology? How long before humans become their slaves? Don’t you see?”
Scott stepped quickly around Blake, his gun at the ready. “I see only a man who’s going to answer my questions or get a bullet in his brain.”
Blake put a bloody hand out to Scott, his face a mask of desperation. “Can’t you see it? The future, swirling, swirling. Artificial minds and biologies in control and humankind never witnessing the Great Awakening. I can bring Genesis and the convergence of Omega. Let me, or all will be lost. Mankind will be lost.”
“Shut up,” Scott shouted, firing at the ground. “The antiviral treatment. I know you have one. Where is it?”
“You can’t know anything.”
Scott thought he saw Blake glance away subtly. “You’ve already taken yours.” A guess, but an educated one based on what he knew and read in the other’s body language. “You brought a dose for her, only Peyton Jones wasn’t the one to deliver the virus. Gosling was. Her, you had no intention for her to live. It’s why you set them against each other in the end. Jones was supposed to kill Gosling on the ship, but if she had where would your plans have gone?”
Blake suddenly seemed detached, like he was surrendering to something. “Throwing darts blindly at the board, are we now? You’ve no idea what you’re up against. The singularity is as inescapable as the event horizon. We must wake the universe itself with mankind at the reigns or be doomed.”
Chapter 15
Mediterranean Sea
Afternoon, Wednesday, 20 June
Scott heard the roar of an engine and glanced up the street. He holstered his gun and pulled Blake to his feet, catching his breath as he watched the sleek blue coupe speed toward him with Edie behind the wheel.
As Edie screeched to a halt in front of him, he turned to Blake and started to say, “You’re done. Done.” But the words never left his lips. Instead, his eyes went wide and he found himself ducking for cover while Edie screamed, “What’s going on? What’s going on?”
“Back in the car,” he shouted. “In the car.”
He’s gone, gone.
He raised his eyes toward the horizon and Fort Saint Angelo across the harbor. He didn’t hear the shot ring out or the bullet strike, but he saw the ripe opening in Blake’s head all the same. He knew the shooter was out there somewhere across the water. Mile Maker or not, a shot from that distance was incredible and the result of remarkable skill.
He peered into the distance. Surely, you’ve got another bullet?
Hands up, gun around his thumb, Scott walked slowly around to the passenger’s side of the car and opened the door. He knew the shooter was out there and he felt starkly alone. What are you waiting for?
“Pop the trunk,” he said to Edie, his eyes still searching. And then he pulled and heaved on Blake’s body until the dead man was in the trunk.
Getting into the car, he said, “Get a team down here to go over every step Blake took from the President’s Palace to here.”
Edie look confused and relieved at the same time. She wrapped her arms around him. “Your eyes,” she said. “You were waiting for a bullet. I saw it.”
“Better me than you,” he said sharply.
She started punching him with her fists. “Don’t you know what that would do to me?” she said. Not waiting for an answer, she looked away and stepped on the gas. A pause. She began trembling, her shoulders shuddering. The Renault sped down the straightaway. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking? Why retrace Blake’s steps?”
Scott clenched his good hand into a fist. “Because he had it with him. The treatment. Only it was meant for Peyton, not Alexis.”
Edie turned the wheel sharply. “How can you possibly know that?”
“When I asked him about a treatment, he glanced back subtly. He didn’t mean too, it was involuntary, his subconscious giving him away.” He paused, gripped her hand. “The rest of it. It was there in his expression and he confirmed it when I asked.”
Edie squeezed his hand in return. “We’ll sort this when we get back to the President’s Palace. If it’s there, they’ll find it.”
“Not the palace,” Scott said. “Get confirmation on the director’s whereabouts.”
Edie stomped on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt. “The director?”
“It was his shooter that took out Blake just now,” Scott said. “Why do that? How did he know where to lie in wait?”
Edie killed the engine.
Silence.
Scott stared at her and waited for understanding.
She never looked over.
Instead, she grimaced and pressed down her brows. She began shaking and punching the steering wheel, her teeth clenched. When she finally looked over at Scott, the muscles of her face were frozen in a scowl. “This whole time. He’s been playing us.”
“I believe he has,” Scott said, “and it’s past time for us to pay him a visit to return the favor.”
Chapter 16
Mediterranean Sea
Afternoon, Wednesday, 20 June
What has the madman done?
Master Chief Roberts stood topside on the USS Kearsarge and gazed into the depths of the Mediterranean. Confirmation had just come in that the virus was released and the area of contamination had spread throughout much of the President’s Palace. It seemed all he could do to breathe. The thought of all those people exposed to a deadly virus was something he couldn’t fathom. He wouldn’t admit it, but felt relieved to be aboard ship and not on land.
The chief knew hundreds may die. Presidents, prime ministers, ambassadors, honored guests, ordinary staff, security, soldiers, police and others. He was frightened by the prospect and of the possibilities should containment at the palace fail. If the virus spread, tens of thousands would become infected within hours and perhaps the entire nation of Malta within a few days. Those lives—a half million—were in the h
ands of the few trying to prevent catastrophe.
The President’s Palace was sealed by hazmat containment and on full lockdown, guarded by local police, security forces and military. He had expected more pushback, a showdown between local authorities and the combined US and AFM operation, but so far it hadn’t come to that. Any potential conflicts seemed to dissipate as soon as commanders explained the omega protocol governing the biohazard lockdown. Warnings of the catastrophe that awaited should containment fail helped as well.
No one wants the specter of the deaths of hundreds of thousands hanging over their heads, the chief thought, staring into the dark waters. Even the fleet seemed to be reluctant to commit, though perhaps orders from higher up prevented their return so as not to endanger the lives of the tens of thousands of sailors and marines on the ships. That left the command to the Kearsarge and hers. Three thousand souls also at risk.
To his right, two petty officers stood smoking cigarettes. The chief turned to them. “Can I have one of those?”
“Sure, Master Chief,” one said, quickly getting out a pack of filtered regulars. The other got out his lighter and sparked it, holding it out in cupped hands for the chief.
“Thanks, just the cigarette,” the chief said, holding it for a moment before tucking it behind his ear. “Not quite ready to smoke it yet.”
The petty officer nodded and twisted away. The shifting wind got the chief’s attention and he turned so he could face it head on. As he looked out to sea, he found himself staring at the Port of Malta in the distance. If it came to it, ships would be barred from leaving the ports, just as planes would be barred from leaving airports. He imagined that wouldn’t go over well and that fleet would have to take control then to handle the air and sea traffic.
End Game Page 5