Even at that speed, the mass of each truck ensured that each one was now too damaged to move under its own power. As a result, the trucks formed a solid makeshift barricade.
These weren’t protestors. Not paid ones, not even true believers in the cause of the day. These were terrorists—probably MILF, but certainly terrorists. If not MILF, they could be one of the groups who were keeping the government busy in Mainland China.
It was no accident that they had chosen to attack when the Chinese delegation was in the hotel—the high-ranking Chinese would make very newsworthy hostages, or victims if this turned into a massacre.
Whoever it was, Conley suspected they had chosen the last day of the conference for the same reason that Zeta had chosen it for the day of Dani’s defection. Everyone would be tired, and their guard would be down after the bulk of the conference had passed without incident.
Two men who were dressed all in black kicked open the doors of the trucks and jumped onto the floor of the lobby. By now, people were screaming and scattering. That was good; the ones who got farthest away would have the best chance. The ones who got out of the hotel in the chaos would have the best chance of all.
Dani, was his only thought. He had to get her out before this turned into whatever the terrorists has planned.
Conley turned to race across the lobby and saw the two guards stationed at the front of the hotel raise their shotguns and fire at the first two terrorists to emerge from the garbage truck doors.
That was something, he realized. Maybe the guards would hold them off, or better yet, end this situation before it turned into a massacre. But Conley decided that he couldn’t wait for that resolution to play out.
In any case, the crashing sounds and gunfire from deep inside the hotel told him that this wasn’t the only entrance under attack. That sound, the garbage trucks, and the automatic weapons told Conley these people were serious and this attack was well-planned.
If that was the case, the smart money was on the terrorists to take the hotel. But until they did, there would be a brief window of opportunity for Conley to get Dani out. Once he’d done that, he would see what he could do about the terrorists if they were still here.
Conley heard more shotgun blasts and then returning automatic fire. He also saw Amado walking toward the doors with his shotgun drawn. Conley spared a look behind him and saw that the two hotel guards were down and terrorists were pouring out of the open doors of the garbage trucks. Each one of them carried either an AK-47 or Chinese military rifles.
He and Amado were badly outmanned and outgunned. They needed to get out of there now.
“Amado,” he called out, running up to the man.
“Mr. Peter,” Amado said. “You should go to your room.”
“We both need to get out of here. Now!” Peter said. “We’ve lost the lobby, but not the hotel.”
Amado sized up the situation.
“Can we get downstairs from there?” Peter said, pointing to the conference area.
“Yes,” Amado said. “Follow me.”
The older man sprinted across the remainder of the lobby. As Peter ran after him he heard bullets hitting the furniture behind them.
Amado was faster than Conley would have given him credit for. He added some speed himself, hoping he could keep up.
* * * *
By six o’clock Alex realized she was hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the morning and had worked straight through. Karen had conferred with Dr. Spellman and Kattab, and then had taken charge of her portion of the lab.
Dr. Spellman and one of the grad students, a woman named Brienne, were in charge of the DNA lab. Karen explained that they would use their equipment to assemble the actual DNA of the virus, according to the information from some ancient hard drives that the terrorists had attached to the lab’s computers.
Karen explained that the DNA was, by far, the most difficult part of the process. They were actually building a virus from scratch, and this part would require almost all of Dr. Spellman’s attention.
The second section was the microbe lab, which was Karen’s responsibility. This is where they would grow the bacteria that the virus would incubate in. As promised, Karen had made sure that Alex and Jason were on her staff, as well as three other students.
She spoke to the group but clearly directed her words to Karen and Jason. “The process is fairly simple. Once we have set up the lab, I will show you what to do and your jobs will soon become routine,” Karen said.
Alex was relieved. She didn’t want her cover as a bio-chem student blown. And now that she had gotten Jason involved, it was his cover too.
The third mini-lab was the harvesting lab, where they would separate the virus from the bacteria using centrifuges and other equipment. Karen explained that while not the most complicated part of the process, it was by far the most dangerous. Accidents with live virus could be catastrophic for anyone nearby, or in the lab…or in the world.
The lab didn’t have any of the safety protocols or equipment to handle something so dangerous. All they had was a fire pit in the back, where they would burn any contaminated equipment, or people. A grad student named Steve was in charge of that portion of the lab. It also included a large freezer, which would hold the batches of stored viruses.
The day was spent moving equipment. Karen knew exactly how the microbe lab needed to be set up. That once again astonished Alex because Karen had virtually no training in biology. She had simply read up on the science and lab procedures so she could function as a graduate assistant to Dr. Spellman.
Karen spoke with authority and appeared confident. Even if she was faking it, Alex couldn’t spot the difference.
First they chose a spot—Karen insisted on the place closest to one of the two utility sinks set against a wall. Then, they set up lab tables and racks of what appeared to be Petri dishes but Karen called “plates”. Karen explained that these were where they would grow the bacteria.
There were also four microwaves and two pressure cookers. That was unnerving. Lab equipment was one thing, but seeing normal kitchen appliances in the terrorist lab unsettled her.
There were also four large incubators where the bacteria-rich solution would actually grow.
Most of the equipment was used, as if the Chechens had bought it at a series of garage sales. But Karen maintained that their lab had everything necessary to complete the project.
And, unfortunately, it was obvious that the other groups were also equipped well enough to complete their tasks.
Is this all it takes to end the world? Alex thought. Some old equipment bought on Craigslist and less than two dozen kids?
Every once in a while, Alex found herself getting lost in the work. She was able to concentrate on what she was doing and forget about why she was doing it.
Every hour or so, Dr. Spellman stopped by to check on their progress. After Margaret’s death Avery had gotten a vacant look in his eyes. Spellman was different too, Alex realized.
He was slightly manic, as if he were in a hurry to get their work done. The first time he stopped by, he said, “Karen tells me that you are all working very hard and I want you to know that I appreciate it. Thanks to you, we’ll have the lab up and running by the end of the day.”
He said it as if it were perfectly normal. As if it were a good thing.
As if success in their task wasn’t the beginning of the end of everything.
If he fell apart like Avery had, the work in the lab would come to a grinding halt. And if that happened the students would be of no use at all to the terrorists.
It appeared that denial helped Dr. Apocalypse cope with the fact that his little club that had made him the center of a lot of attention and allowed him to date college girls might be about to bring about the real apocalypse. That was fine with Alex. The longer he was functional, the longer Zeta had to find th
em and Alex and Karen had to get control of the situation.
After his brief visit, Spellman moved on to the purification section of the lab to observe and provide some more words of encouragement.
The day was long. They were allowed to drink from the large supply of bottled water but they didn’t stop for lunch. However, by then she was sore enough that she didn’t think about food any more. Karen impressed her as well. She was slightly built—even more so than Alex herself—but she more than pulled her weight when it came to physical labor. The other students, on the other hand, looked and acted like they had never worked with anything heavier than a computer mouse in their lives.
Some of them seemed to be intentionally slacking. Alex understood that sentiment. The slower they worked, the more they delayed the terrorist’s plans. However, the armed Chechens constantly moved around and shouted at anyone who appeared to be moving too slowly.
Jason wasn’t like the other students, she realized. Once he saw that they wouldn’t be able to stall the terrorists, he did what Alex did and simply threw himself into his tasks. He took the lead in moving all of the heavy equipment and when that was done, moved on to help the other groups with the centrifuges, which were the largest and heaviest of all.
Alex realized that her father would have liked Jason. He liked people who got in and did hard work when it was required. She found herself hoping that Jason and her dad would meet and then pushed that thought aside.
It was a silly thought. For one, she and Jason had really just met themselves. And secondly, the chances of any of them surviving the week, let alone the month were slim. Instead, she inventoried the equipment that she thought they could turn into weapons. The microwaves and pressure cookers were obvious candidates. And probably the centrifuges. After all, they were heavy and operated at very high speeds. She’d have to talk to Karen about how they could be sabotaged and what sort of damage they could do.
There were also liquid chemicals and boxes of powders she didn’t recognize that Alex hoped could be mixed to create explosives. Karen, she was sure, was already mentally cataloging those resources.
Alex found herself feeling something for the first time since the Chechens had herded them onto the bus: hope
They had a lab full of equipment, they had training, and they had the amazing contents of Karen’s brain. In a few days perhaps they could arrange a surprise or two for the terrorists.
But first they would need to eat. As the day wore on Alex realized that she was hungry. Just before six, Spellman appeared again and inspected their progress. Alex saw that he had changed his bandage and the new one didn’t have the ugly blood stain showing through. He should have looked better but he didn’t. He was flushed and there was something forced about his speech.
“Very good work, all of you. I think in two or three hours, we’ll be done,” he said. Then he hesitated and added, “Our hosts have insisted that we finish before we eat again. I’m sorry about that but it really won’t be long and it will be nice to stop for the day knowing that our lab will be ready to go tomorrow.”
“We will be finished, doctor,” Karen said, gesturing to the microbe area.
“Excellent, I want you all to know that when this project if finished you can each count on me for a recommendation,” he said, leaving.
“Is he okay?” Jason asked when Karen and Alex were alone.
“He is functional but I think he has an infection from the wound on his face. He’s running a low grade fever,” Karen said.
“Can he do his job?” Alex asked.
“As far as I can tell his work setting up the lab has been flawless.”
Alex understood. Spellman wasn’t Avery but perhaps he was struggling with Margaret’s death as well—in addition to the situation that he had brought on for his students. If focusing on the work kept him on his feet, that was fine with Alex.
Her stomach growled again. That was an incentive Alex understood and she picked up her pace.
Less than an hour later, she heard hushed voices and turned to see that one of the guys working on Spellman’s team was sitting on the floor. In less than a minute everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him.
Now that it was silent she could hear him muttering to himself.
He was a normal student, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He wasn’t moving. He was just sitting on the floor, mumbling.
And crying.
He would stop speaking for a few seconds, let out a sob, and then continue muttering.
Dr. Spellman said something to him in a firm “professor” tone, and the boy turned his attention up.
“I want to go home!” he said clearly.
Three of the terrorists had come over by then. As soon as that happened Spellman and the others backed away from the boy on the floor.
One of the terrorists shoved him.
That made him look up and say, “I don’t want to be here…I want to go home.”
Alex didn’t like this at all, she decided. She started taking purposeful strides toward the boy, with absolutely no idea what she would do when she got there.
However, before she had gotten two steps, Kattab shouted something from across the room and two of the terrorists grabbed the boy under each arm and started dragging him away.
“Wait!” Alex called out.
The third terrorist pointed his rifle directly at Alex and she froze in place. The other two men kept dragging the boy. He didn’t resist but he did start shouting, “I want to go home…I want to go home…”
“Let me talk to—” Alex began.
“Quiet!” Kattab shouted from behind her.
Then the terrorists pulled the boy through the double doors leading outside. As soon as that happened he started screaming “I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home.”
Then the three people were outside and the door shut behind them.
“I want to go—”
A single gunshot rang out, cutting the last scream short.
Chapter 26
People were approaching them from the conference area and heading toward the lobby. Conley and Amado shouted for the hotel guests to turn around. Most of them were simply confused, until they heard the gunfire and screams coming from the direction of the lobby. They ran from the sound, deeper into the hotel.
More guests and a few hotel staff had fled the lobby and entered the hallway behind them. Conley heard the telltale signs of screams cut short by gunfire. Whoever they were, the terrorists were shooting everyone in their path.
And the only things between them and Dani’s group were Conley and Amado. If they could stop the terrorists here, Dani would be safe and this whole thing could be over.
Looking to his right Conley saw double doors with a sign above that read: Grand Ballroom.
Perfect, he thought. As a rule, he hated large open rooms for firefights since there was no cover. On the other hand, they were great places for an ambush.
He pulled Amado into the alcove in front of the ballroom and said. “If you can find a position inside, I’ll lead them into the room. Maybe we can stop them here,” Conley said as he reached into his tourist disguise fanny pack to pull out a clip. He had worn it initially as a bit of a joke, but now he realized it was extremely useful.
“No, Mr. Peter. I will do this. You must get out of the hotel. It is not your job,” Amado said.
“Amado, you protect the gift shop and café from shoplifters and people running out on their checks. This isn’t your job,” Conley said as he drew his Glock from its rear holster. “As it turns out, this is exactly what I do.”
“What are you thinking?” Amado asked calmly.
“Is there an exit on the other side?” Conley asked, pointing across the room.
Amado shook his head. “No but there is a store room.”
“Good. Get there. I’ll le
ad them in,” Conley said. With barely a nod, Amado was running into the ballroom. His pistol-grip shotgun was still at his hip but his .45 was in his hand.
The gunfire had stopped in the hallway and when Conley peeked out from the alcove he saw why. At least a dozen guests and staff were lying dead on the floor. Behind them and heading toward Conley were six black-clad terrorists less than thirty feet away.
In a smooth motion, Conley aimed and fired a single shot, which caught the closest man in the chest. Before he fell, Conley had lined up another target and fired again, hitting another terrorist center mass.
By the time the first man hit the floor, the four remaining terrorists processed the fact that someone was shooting back at them and started firing blindly at Conley’s position. Then, with amazing speed, they charged him.
Conley threw himself into the ballroom and raced across the open space toward a door on the opposite wall. His ears told him two things. First, his plan had worked and the surviving terrorists had followed him into the ballroom. And second, they were too close to him, and as a result he would never make it to the storeroom door before they were shooting at him from the ballroom entrance.
This is why I hate gunfights in a ballroom! Conley thought. He had time to consider whether he should simply turn to meet them head on when Amado leapt out of the store room and instantly got into a firing crouch.
“Down, Mr. Peter!” Amado shouted.
Conley didn’t hesitate. He dove for the ground, just as he heard two shots whiz over his head. It wasn’t a graceful dive and it left him on his stomach. As he twisted his body and brought his Glock around, he heard a series of shots from Amado’s position.
Amazingly, three of the terrorists fell to the ground. One gunman was still standing. He had his rifle out and got off a single, poorly aimed shot before Conley fired his Glock and the top of the man’s head sprayed blood behind him.
He had been aiming for the terrorist’s chest, but he’d been firing from a prone position at a moving target. Ultimately, the headshot did the job and the man fell.
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