Threat Level Alpha

by Leo J. Maloney

  “I remember your introductory email. You requested a position and sent corrections on my paper on dissecting macromolecules,” he said.

  Margaret visibly gasped.

  Karen replied, “I also suggested some improvements on your technique.”

  Alex thought Margaret might fall over but Dr. Spellman seemed pleased. “You were right, of course. I look forward to seeing what you can do in the lab.”

  “I’m better at the theory. I’m hoping to learn a lot in your lab,” Karen said.

  “I look forward to learning from each other,” he said pleasantly.

  Alex got the distinct impression that Spellman’s interest in Karen wasn’t just about her brain. It was weird. Though Alex knew, intellectually, that Karen was pretty and her half-Asian, half-Irish features made her exotic, to her she was just…Karen—one of the biggest brains Alex had ever met. Of course, Shepard liked her on more than one level.

  And apparently so did Dr. Spellman.

  And Alex wasn’t the only one who noticed. She could practically feel Margaret seething.

  So Margaret is in love with the doctor, Alex thought.

  Again, gross. And made worse by the fact that both of them—and everyone else in the room as well—shared a fantasy about killing everyone on Earth.

  If this was college, Alex decided, she hadn’t missed anything.

  “I’m glad you both could join us. Margaret tells me that you are very passionate about the issues that concern us as well,” he said.

  “I don’t think anyone can afford to stand on the sidelines now. We want to do whatever we can to help,” Alex offered.

  “Glad to hear it. We’re a new group—we’ve only been meeting formally for three semesters,” he said, waving expansively.

  “Have you made much progress?” Alex asked.

  “Well, we’re still brainstorming approaches and working out some theoretical paths.”

  They were well into their second year of meetings and they were still in the early planning stages? Alex knew what her father would think of them. As a death cult dedicated to the destruction of mankind, they didn’t seem very serious.

  Like Dr. Spellman himself, The Club was a disappointment—which was probably best for the human race.

  The last thing the world needed was a competent and committed group with these goals.

  “In addition, I teach a full load and have a department to run,” he said. Then he gestured to the group. “And you are looking at a group of top students, who are committed to excelling in their field of study.”

  Yes, nobody would want their work on the end of the world to affect their grades, Alex thought. That could make it hard for them to get a job later.

  The whole thing did make Alex feel better about the threat that this group might represent. Of course, they could still be dangerous—in the way that a toddler with a loaded gun could be dangerous.

  “I want to welcome our two new members,” Dr. Spellman said to the group. “As you know, we are a select bunch. Besides our shared concerns about the state of the world and its future, we all share a passion for biochemistry and molecular biology. The bad news is that our current level of industrialization and technology has allowed humans to threaten—for the first time in the planet’s history—all life on Earth. The good news is that the science we study and the technology we master may also provide the ultimate solution to the problems we have caused. The very good news is that it might not be too late.”

  “I want to thank you all for being here and I want to pledge to each and every one of you that all of us are taking an important first step for the future of the planet. And to show my appreciation, I have a surprise for you.”

  “We have some people joining us today. There is a group—a private group of people who believe many of the same things we believe and run a bio-chem firm. They are from Eastern Europe, from the region of Chechnya. There, even though these people have faced persecution and oppression, they are still committed to saving the planet. I’m proud to say that we have formed our first partnership with a like-minded group. And for the first time, we can share knowledge and work together toward a common goal. This is our chance to be part of the change the world needs, perhaps the only change that matters. Together, we could make real progress in this journey that it feels like we just started.”

  Dr. Spellman gestured for the door and everyone’s head turned.

  And nothing happened.

  Spellman checked his watch. “They should be here any time.”

  There was an awkward silence. It lasted for almost a minute and then the door opened. Two men walked in. They took long, purposeful strides as they approached the doctor, who extended his hand.

  Neither man took it.

  The men were in their late twenties to early thirties and they looked nothing like the biochemists or molecular biologists she had seen on campus, or in movies, or on T.V.

  For one, they wore business suits that were dated and ill-fitting. And the men didn’t seem comfortable in those clothes. They definitely appeared Eastern European, with dark hair and close-cropped beards.

  Dr. Spellman was still holding out his right hand awkwardly. “In our culture, it is traditional to greet each other with a handshake.”

  The taller of the two men spoke first. “These are the students in your group?”

  “Yes,” Spellman said, putting his hand down. “This is our first meeting of the year. We are pleased—”

  “And all of them have the skills to work on the project?”

  “Um, yes. We are a diverse bunch. We represent many different—”

  “The skills,” the Chechen in charge interrupted. “They have the skills?’

  Spellman was frustrated. “Yes, these people represent some of the best minds in the Berkeley biochemistry and molecular biology departments.”

  The man waved off the doctor and considered the group carefully. Then he scanned the room. “Your equipment here is good.”

  The professor didn’t hide his pride. “This is a state-of-the-art facility. We have machines that—”

  The man lifted his hand to shush the professor and Alex wasn’t surprised to see him shut up.

  Then Alex realized what was off about the Chechens. It wasn’t that they didn’t look like American scientists (of either the white button shirt or slacker chic variety), it was what they did look like.

  They were ex-military. Or at least they carried themselves like men who had had some physical or combat training. Alex knew her dad had been in the service, if only briefly, as had most of the people at Zeta.

  And she had seen more than one military-trained operative in the field.

  Alex was suddenly on high alert. There was something wrong here. Besides her direct observation, her gut was telling her that these weren’t good guys. And they weren’t even the kind of soft, clueless bad guys that wanted to use their bio-chem skills to play at creating a superbug that would wipe out everybody.

  As for Margaret, Avery, and the others, they were too stunned to even process what was happening in front of them. One look at Karen told Alex that her partner on this mission was feeling the same thing. And then Alex saw something that told her that not only was something wrong here, but something was very wrong.

  Each of the two men had a bulge under their left arm, a bulge that was visible even under their ill-fitting suits.

  “We were really hoping for more of an exchange of—” Spellman said, putting a bit of force behind his voice.

  The man in charge raised a hand and said, “We have a facility to show you.”

  “Well, I’m sure we can arrange a time—”

  “Now,” the man said.

  Spellman was desperately trying to regain control of a situation that was already hopeless. “I’m afraid that is not possible. I have a class in—”
<
br />   “Now!” the man shouted, shocking Dr. Spellman silent. “All of you will come with us to our facility.”

  As the group began to grumble, Spellman made one last attempt to take charge of the room. He straightened up and said, “Sir, I’m afraid that—”

  “Shut up!” the leader said, holding up his hand as a clear signal to Dr. Spellman.

  Three things happened at once. First, Spellman stopped speaking. Second, Margaret gasped audibly. And third, Alex actually saw the large caliber handgun holstered against the Chechen’s white shirt.

  Still holding up his hand—which seemed to be invisibly reaching across the few feet between them to keep Spellman’s mouth shut—the man pulled out a phone with his other hand, dialed, and barked something into the device.

  Alex realized he wasn’t just speaking to someone on the other end; he was giving him or her orders. Alex wasn’t sure what was happening here, but she was sure it wasn’t going to be good.

  It was time to go.

  What she needed was a Zeta Tach team to stop whatever this was until they could sort it all out. Since a team wasn’t likely to appear, it was time to get out of there, file a report, and come up with a plan.

  Alex examined the two doors on the opposite ends of the outer wall of the lab. The Chechens with the guns might not like it if they left, but she doubted they would draw their weapons and shoot the two women before they reached the door.

  Alex wasn’t armed but if it came to it, they could stay low, taking cover behind the lab tables as they worked their way outside. She started to get up when she saw three more men approach the glass doors from the outside.

  At this distance she couldn’t tell, but she had no doubt each of them had bulges under their ill-fitting suits.

  Chapter 15

  “Morgan. There is no need for this. I just wish to speak to you. Please, toss out your gun and step away from the car,” a Russian-accented voice said from inside one of SUVs.

  The voice was familiar and Morgan struggled to place it as he considered his options. None of them were good.

  Maybe if he played for time. They might get lucky.

  “Why don’t you throw out your guns and just get out of here?” Jenny’s voice boomed out from next to him. “We’re on vacation!” she added.

  Morgan turned to his wife. He would have liked to tell her that he was handling this situation, but it wasn’t as if he had done very well so far.

  Jenny just shrugged.

  Then she turned back to the Russians and said, “I’m going to count to—”

  Morgan raised his hand and she stopped. For now this was a standoff. There was no reason to make it a firefight until it was absolutely necessary. If the Russians wanted him dead, they could have just started shooting. And if they really wanted to end this in a hurry, they could have just lobbed a few RPGs at them and been done with it.

  No, they wanted something from Morgan. He could use that. Perhaps there was something he could trade for Jenny’s life, or for a chance for her to escape.

  That was the mission now. He’d realized that he’d given up on trying to work out a way for both of them to walk away, but he hadn’t given up on getting her home without him. It was a trade he would make a hundred times. He’d certainly risked his life for much less than her.

  “I was talking to the other Morgan,” the same Russian voice said.

  “What do you want?” Morgan called out. “But understand that you get nothing if I’m not absolutely certain that my wife will be safe.”

  “It is unfortunate that the woman is here. I do not want—”

  “The woman has a name!” Jenny shouted. He wanted to tell her not to antagonize the Russians but realized there was no point. Things weren’t going to get any worse for them.

  “My apologies Mrs. Morgan,” the Russian said. To Dan’s surprise, the man sounded sincere.

  Jenny shot her husband a look and raised an eyebrow. He knew as little about what was going on as she did.

  Then he realized something else. She was scared but not terrified. And they weren’t dead yet. He felt his own fear for her diminish a bit. Not much, but her presence calmed him. That was good; he was less likely to make a mistake now.

  “Mister Morgan, I would like to talk to you,” the Russian leader said. There it was again. That voice was familiar.

  “You can make an appointment at my shop. I’m there most days eleven to four,” Morgan called out. “Until then, I recommend you listen to my wife and pack it in.”

  At that Jenny actually smiled and Morgan realized something important: this would be all right. They were together and that made it all right—whatever happened.

  “I’m going to come out. Please do not shoot me until we speak,” the man said.

  That was new. Where were the threats? Your wife first, then your dog, then you—or something like that. For a Russian gangster or KGB operative, this man was terrible at intimidation.

  He watched the passenger door of one of the SUVs open and someone step out behind it.

  “Ne strelyai,” the Russian called to his comrades. Morgan’s Russian wasn’t great but he understood don’t shoot. Of course, he had rarely heard Russians he was facing down say that in the field.

  “Esli ne nado,” the Russian continued. Unless you have to. Then, “Vy mozhete udarit mashinu.” You might hit the car.

  “Worried about my car, are you?” Morgan said, glad just to keep the Russian talking.

  “The Shelbys did put Mustang on the map,” the Russian said. “It’s a repaint, of course, but that is the best recreation of the Dark Highland Green that I have ever seen. It doesn’t look like a color library job.”

  “It isn’t. It’s a custom mix—I’ve got a guy,” Morgan replied.

  “Dan,” Jenny said insistently. “Really, they have guns pointed at us and you’re talking cars.”

  “I’m buying us time,” Morgan said with a shrug.

  “Morgan, I’m going to put my gun down and step into the open. I would appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me until you hear what I have to say.”

  “I won’t shoot you, but I’m not the only one here,” Morgan said.

  “Mrs. Morgan, I do apologize for the interruption of your vacation,” the Russian said.

  This standoff wasn’t going the way Morgan had expected. If this was Jenny’s influence, he might just have to bring her on all of his missions.

  “Take your jacket off and keep your hands in the air,” Morgan said.

  The man barked something Morgan couldn’t hear in Russian and then said. “Okay, Morgan.”

  The Russian stepped out into the open. Morgan was glad to see that none of the SUV doors opened. The Russian’s men wouldn’t be covering him—that was something. It wasn’t much of an edge, but Morgan and Jenny were so far behind that he would take whatever advantage he could get.

  “Morgan, I cannot say that I am pleased to see you, but I do need your help,” the Russian said.

  No, not the Russian. This was a very specific Russian: Valery Dobrynin.

  “Yurievich Dobrynin,” Morgan said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

  * * * *

  Alex put her hand out to tell Karen to stop but saw that it wasn’t necessary. She also saw the armed men outside the doors. Both agents watched them step into the lab.

  Now even the members of The Club could see them. Of course, the students around Alex had no idea what was going on, but—to be fair—neither did she. The only difference was that Alex and Karen understood one thing that would take the rest of them a while to process: they were all in immediate danger.

  Alex also knew the men were Chechens. She assumed that because they had just taken a group of American college students hostage, they were also terrorists. Of course, there were problems with that theory.

  For one,
most Chechen terrorists were separatists, and while they had launched many attacks against Russia and Russian interests, a Chechen terror group had never attacked America or even a Western European power before.

  Whatever was happening here was new. However, that didn’t mean the situation wasn’t very, very dangerous.

  As if to prove her point, the leader of the Chechens gave Dr. Spellman a shove.

  “Now hold on. This is a meeting. And you are here only at our invitation. You are leaving me no choice—”

  What happened next was inevitable.

  The leader of the group reached into his suit jacket and pulled his gun. Before Spellman or anyone else could process that, the man’s arm swung the gun around and hit the professor, hard, across the face with a loud crack in the now silent room.

  Dr. Spellman went sprawling sideways and fell to the ground, clutching the side of his face. This time there weren’t just gasps, there was a growing rumble of shouts from the group of students which was dwarfed by the single, loud scream that was coming from Margaret.

  The Chechen leader appeared more annoyed than angry and lifted his gun to the ceiling, firing two shots.

  That shocked the room—and even Margaret—into silence.

  “Everyone, you will be coming with us. But before we go I want you all to take out your cell phones and watches and give them to that man.” He pointed to one of his comrades who had a canvas bag in one hand and a gun in the other. As the terrorist approached the students, Alex could see that the safety was turned off on the gun.

  She hoped none of the students balked. If they did, Alex had no doubt they would be shot.

  But no one spoke as they all took out their phones. Alex did the same. She thought about trying to get a message out to Zeta, but there were too many gunmen watching the students and she couldn’t chance it. As Karen gave up her phone, Alex was glad to see that her partner had concluded the same thing.

  There might come a time when they could act, but that time simply wasn’t now. Their captors were at the beginning of their operation, when they would be hyper alert. If they all lived long enough, that would hopefully change—especially since the men were only expecting to be dealing with docile college students.