Threat Level Alpha

by Leo J. Maloney

  “I’ll call the CDC and get a list,” Shepard said.

  Bloch addressed the rest of them. “I know this looks like a big job but we have cooperation from every possible government agency. We will throw people at this until we get a break, and we will get a break. If Mr. Dobrynin is right, the terrorists know people are looking for them, but the time frame for their project is built around a traditional search, using traditional resources.”

  “They don’t know Zeta is looking for them—they don’t even know we exist. And they don’t know that two of our agents are watching their every move. This is what Zeta was created to do. This is what all of you were trained to do. Remember, the stakes here are higher than any problem you have ever faced. And if that wasn’t enough, two of our own are in immediate danger,” Bloch said.

  It was a speech, designed to motivate them, to call on their sense of duty as well as their sense of loyalty to their fellow agents. In a way, Morgan knew he was being played, given a problem, and pointed at a target. The hell of it was, it had worked—partly because everything Bloch said was true, and partly because she was very, very good at her job.

  “One more thing: even with all the help we are getting, this is likely to take some time. I can’t have you doing this on coffee and attitude,” Bloch said.

  There was grumbling at the table.

  Shepard was the first to speak, “We are on the—”

  “You most of all, Shepard. We need you fresh. You’re writing and tweaking programs—work that should take dozens of hours—on the fly. You can’t do it without rest. It’s official; this goes for everyone. If we get a break or lead, I need someone who has the cognitive function to pursue it. And when we have a mission, I need someone to in reasonable condition to complete it. That means as of midnight I’ll be enforcing four-hour rest periods, taken in shifts. We have an international intelligence operation to run, and if our information is right, every man woman and child on the face of the earth is depending on us. We will not let them, or our two agents, down.”

  That was it. Meeting over. Morgan’s eyes met Jenny’s. He saw everything he was feeling: anger, worry, and determination. Jenny had been caught up in his work before, but this was the first time they had really worked together in his world. He realized that he was glad to have her. Everyone at Zeta and half a dozen government agencies would be fighting for the world, or their fellow agents. He was glad to have Jenny, with him, fighting for their daughter.

  And if Bloch was right it was at least a fight. No, not a fight yet, but a race. And a race was something Morgan understood very well.

  Chapter 20

  Alex guessed it was a couple of hours after they had picked up Jason that the bus moved off the highway and onto a road with occasional traffic lights.

  By that time the Chechens had relaxed. They still didn’t allow the students to speak, but they no longer screamed at every little sound, or every time someone shifted in their seats.

  The gunmen passed out water bottles an hour or so into the trip. And then they allowed the students to use the small bathroom in the back of the bus when needed.

  Their captors weren’t exactly treating their hostages well, but they hadn’t pistol-whipped anyone since Spellman so that was something. The Chechens needed the students, at least in the short term, but Alex had no illusions about how long that would last.

  Escape had to be her and Karen’s priority. They needed to get word to Zeta before the terrorists achieved their objective. Alex had a few ideas about what those plans might be.

  When the Chechens had first turned up in class, they had talked to Spellman about a project and a facility. That meant the terrorists had a lab somewhere. Now they had a world-class biochemist and a group of students with varying degrees of knowledge and skill.

  This was almost certainly a well-planned operation to create a bio-weapon. Alex had no idea how long such a project would take but she was certain that when it was finished the terrorists would have no use for a bunch of students who would go from an important asset to a serious liability.

  Twenty-three liabilities. Twenty-four with Dr. Apocalypse.

  Alex found her eyes drifting over to Jason. He was sitting quietly and looking up at the ceiling of the bus. He soon felt her eyes on him and met her gaze.

  The first expression that registered on his face was concern. He scanned her and then his eyes found hers again. She smiled to reassure him.

  He tilted his head forward to the front of the bus and rolled his eyes. He did it so quickly and casually that Alex actually laughed for a second.

  Jason shrugged again.

  Alex marveled that he was able to joke. He must have been scared but he was functional when so many of the other students wore vacant stares that shifted only when they broke into occasional whimpers.

  Dr. Spellman’s face had stopped bleeding and he appeared to be in shock. Next to him, Margaret was in about the same shape—though she would occasionally look over to check on him.

  She’s in love with Dr. Apocalypse, Alex realized. Were they seeing each other? Given that he led a club whose sole purpose was to wipe out all people, dating a student didn’t seem like much of an offense. Yet the thought made him seem even smaller somehow.

  Alex found she had little sympathy for the good doctor. Even if The Club was the equivalent of a fantasy football league, he had somehow made contact with actual terrorists. In a way it was like the plot of one of the horror films she’d seen with her dad—where a group of kids played at some satanic ritual and ended up raising a real demon.

  Everyone in The Club was guilty of that to some extent. She and Karen were here because they knew there had been a threat brewing at Berkeley. And even though Alex hadn’t taken the threat very seriously, she was trained for this sort of situation. She and Karen were part of Zeta and taking on people like these terrorists was their mission.

  There was only one person who was completely innocent and didn’t belong here at all—and she realized that he was still looking into her eyes. Jason was only on the bus because he was interested in her.

  It wasn’t exactly Alex’s fault, but there was no denying that Jason wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t decided to mix her personal feelings with her mission. Now she realized that was both selfish and foolish. But what made Alex feel worst of all was that part of her was still glad that he was here, glad he was with her.

  Now she just had to make sure she didn’t get him killed.

  * * * *

  “Anything on the HAZMAT equipment?” Morgan asked Shepard, who was hunched over one of the keyboards at his workstation. Dobrynin was now working next to him.

  “No,” the young man said simply.

  “Not yet?” he asked.

  “Not ever,” Shepard said, his voice flat. “We checked every contractor and every level 4 system built in the last two years. None of them are secret terrorist labs. Then we checked every level 3 facility, first in California and then in the entire country. It wasn’t that hard; there aren’t that many. They’d be crazy to make something so dangerous in a level 3 facility but we checked anyway. Nothing.”

  Morgan decided he didn’t like the look in Dobrynin’s eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “Proklyatye Chechens,” the Russian muttered.

  “What about them?” Morgan said.

  “That means they are not bothering with any safety protocols,” Shepard said.

  “But what if they have an accident? They do intend to create a virus that could wipe out everyone,” Morgan said.

  “Not if they have an accident but when,” the Russian said. “They will be using students and that proklyatiy professor. And they will be working fast. They will have accidents, more than one probably.”

  “What happens then?” Morgan asked.

  “If they succeed in creating the agent and someone gets infec
ted they will have to immediately burn the body and anything that has been contaminated. If the world is lucky, it may even work.”

  Morgan let that sink it. Dobrynin continued, “This is why the Soviets gave up their program and destroyed all samples. Producing and storing the virus in any quantity would have risks, even if all safety protocols were followed.”

  Morgan had had more than his share of trouble with the Soviet Union but they hadn’t been crazy. For one thing, they had seen that the destruction of the entire world was too big a risk to take to possess a weapon you could never use.

  Even if Zeta assumed the terrorists didn’t want to immediately deploy the virus and instead wanted it for blackmail, that wouldn’t matter if it got out from the lab by accident.

  The lab that Alex would likely be working inside.

  There was no time, when before they’d thought they had weeks. Now they had a bomb that could go off any moment.

  And no leads.

  The Zeta team would keep checking security footage, satellite images, and traffic cameras, trying to track thousands of pieces of equipment—hoping that something would lead them to the location.

  Morgan felt his stomach churning. The frustration was almost too much.

  “What about the fire? If they have to burn one of their accidents, will the fire show up somewhere?” Morgan asked.

  Shepard shrugged. “Sure, we would be able to see if on satellite, but do you know how many small fires there are in California this time of year?”

  “No, how many?”

  “A lot,” the younger man said. “We’ll track them, of course but…”

  “Koshmar,” Dobrynin muttered.

  Is that what they were reduced to? Hoping that there would be an accident in the lab where the terrorists were creating the world-ending virus so they would have to burn an infected body?

  Alex is in that lab, Morgan reminded himself.

  There had to be a better way. There had to be something they could do, something he could do.

  In the end, Morgan got himself and Jenny coffee and returned to his computer. Then he went through the campus security footage again, hoping that he would see something he had missed the first time…and the second time.

  * * * *

  Alex noted a change from local streets to what had to be a gravel road. They were only on that for a few minutes and then the bus came to a stop.

  The Chechens had gone quiet. One of them—the leader who had spoken to the group at Berkeley—barked a few orders to the others and slipped up front with the driver.

  Everyone was on edge and soon the students started muttering amongst themselves. One of the terrorists turned around and raised his gun, barking something in Chechen. Alex didn’t understand the words but the meaning was clear: Everyone shut up.

  For the first time since they had gotten on the bus, there were only four Chechens with guns in the passenger area. Alex was reasonably certain that if they got close enough, she could take one of them out and grab his weapon. But that would still leave three terrorists with guns. She wouldn’t last long in an enclosed space in that scenario.

  Alex knew she could count on Karen to try to help but she just didn’t know what Karen could do. No doubt the woman had basic hand-to-hand and weapons training, but disarming a committed terrorist in a bus full of civilians was hardly beginner’s work.

  Alex had to do the hardest thing she had done since the Chechens showed up; she resisted the impulse to fight. It was the right move, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling that this might be the best opportunity she would ever have.

  There were twenty-four lives at risk—and one of them was a hapless guy named Jason whose only mistake was trying to date her.

  Alex’s musings were cut short by the reappearance of the leader who spoke to the other men in Chechen. Then he turned to address the passengers.

  “My name is Kattab. We have arrived at the facility. This is where you will stay and work until the project is completed. You will not leave the building during the project. You will cooperate at all times and you will follow all instructions given to you by me or by my men. If you do, you will be treated well. We have been watching your group for some time. We share some of the same goals but understand that we are not partners and we are not your friends. And also understand that this project is very important to my people and to our cause. You will do as you are told or you will die.”

  “Mister, um, Kattab,” Dr. Spellman said, holding a t-shirt or something to his cheek. His voice was shaky but Alex was surprised to hear him speak at all. “It would help if we knew what your project was.”

  “A virus, doctor. You will synthesize a virus for us. It is a type you know well, but I doubt you have seen anything quite like it,” Kattab said.

  “What kind of virus?” Spellman asked.

  “The kind you have dreamed of, doctor. I believe you called it a cure, a cure for humanity,” Kattab said.

  Alex would have liked to think that Kattab and his terrorist buddies were crazy, but he appeared deadly serious—not like a wild-eyed lunatic. She knew that was often the problem pop psychologists and even CIA analysts had with terrorists. It was very easy to dismiss them as ‘insane.’

  To be fair, terrorists often started with a crazy premise—like a desire to impose their dysfunctional ideology on the entire world despite the fact that the same ideology had often turned their old country into a place people would risk their lives to escape. But once they had made that leap, terrorists could be shockingly rational and methodical in their approach to their work. And the fact was that this was a very well-planned operation. They had kidnapped a real scientist and twenty-three assistants for him. They had eluded capture for hours and they now had successfully moved their prisoners to a secret lab.

  Alex had no idea how long it took to create a world-ending virus—she’d have to ask Karen when they could speak again. However, she wasn’t going to dismiss anything Kattab had said. For now, she had a responsibility to act like this threat was real. Certainly, it was very real for the twenty of them.

  The door opened and the group was ushered outside. Jason, she noted, slipped in front of Alex to put himself between their captors and her. It was sweet—misguided, but sweet. Karen slipped behind her as the group moved forward.

  A moment later, they were outside in the early evening light. Scanning the area she saw they were in the desert. There was a large building in front of them but nothing else nearby. They were in a parking lot that was paved but the road they had just taken there was gravel.

  In the distance behind the building she could see mountains. The Sierras? That meant Nevada, or maybe…

  “We’re in Lone Pine, California,” Jason whispered behind her.

  “What? How?” Alex said.

  “Look at the sign,” Jason said.

  Armagh Mining Co., Lone Pine, CA est. 1924, the sign read.

  If they were in the California desert, they were most likely southeast of San Francisco and Berkeley. That meant those mountains were definitely the Sierras, which put their location near the Nevada border.

  The building was old, at least thirty or forty years. From the outside it resembled a warehouse. It was maybe three stories high and there were no windows except a row of small ones that ringed the top. There was a standard-sized door in the center of the building and large steel doors to its right—presumably for getting mining equipment and supplies in and out.

  Alex saw there were no power lines running to the building but she could hear the hum of a generator. That was bad. It meant they were literally off the grid. If Zeta and anyone else were looking for a secret lab, they wouldn’t see unusual power usage out here in what was obviously dead center of the middle of nowhere.

  And that was bad in more ways than one. It meant there was a very small chance of someone stumbling on the lab an
d reporting anything suspicious. It also meant that even if Alex or Karen managed to get away on foot, there was nowhere to go—certainly no people or roads they could reach before they were caught.

  Okay then, Alex thought. That simply meant that they had to take out all of the terrorists before they even tried an escape. Just one more item on their growing to-do list.

  “Quiet,” Kattab said as the students started muttering to each other. “Everyone inside.”

  Two of the Chechens led the way through the small door with the other four behind the group, guns pointed at their backs.

  Alex, Karen, and Jason were inside in less than a minute.

  The building must have been some sort of equipment storage space. However, it had been completely emptied out of whatever had been there before. Now, the roughly hundred-yard square building was a bigger version of the lab at Berkeley. Alex recognized most of the equipment, though some of it was bigger and older than what she’d seen at the school.

  On the wall by the entrance there were offices that overlooked the open space though large windows. There were also closed doors that could have led to storerooms.

  One of the distant corners held a kitchen area. Then there were rows of bunks on the far wall that ran almost to the other side. Between the bunks were lockers and some rough cabinetry.

  Whatever happened, they would be living here until the project was complete. This was very well organized, very serious. The men had obviously done quite a bit of preparation, setting up an entire self-sufficient lab—complete with a dormitory—in the middle of nowhere.

  They were preparing to succeed in whatever they had planned. The only thing that Alex and Karen had in their favor was their training and the fact that the terrorists would underestimate them.

  Of course, that was only an advantage if they had an opportunity to act.

  Alex was determined to find that opportunity, or make it. Eventually, one of their captors would let his guard down. If she could get her hands on a gun, she would have a good chance of ending their operation today.