The King of Plagues jl-3

by Jonathan Maberry

  But this …

  Somehow this felt beyond that, maybe beyond redemption.

  And the irony was that the catalyst to these dark thoughts had been the word, the label that the Kings used for people such as him.

  “Conscience.”

  Was there ever a crueler word?

  The boat rocked gently, creaking as boats will. Far away a buoy clanged to mark the channel passage. His interlaced fingers pressed together so tightly that pain pulsed in every joint and sent fire flashes along his arms. The pain was the only thing that kept him from screaming.

  All that remains is the monster.

  “God,” he whispered as the first tears fell from his eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Fair Isle Research Endeavor

  The Hot Room

  December 18, 3:14 P.M. GMT

  I stood in front of the fish tank, my pistol down at my side. The marshmallow people inside stared at me through the surgical tape slits. I couldn’t see their eyes, but they could see mine.

  I used my free hand to press the button for the intercom.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “You know what Dr. Grey did. You know he’s dead.”

  A few of them nodded. Most stood as still as statues.

  “He had an accomplice. Someone sabotaged the security systems and bypassed the vent controls. The plan was to release the airborne Ebola to the atmosphere. That means that one of you in there is in on this.”

  They cut sharp looks at each other, many of them taking involuntary steps back from whoever was nearest, and often colliding. There was a buzz of voices.

  I leaned into the wall mike.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  They froze and stared at me.

  “I’m talking now to the person who sabotaged the systems. If you are not a terrorist … if you were coerced into this, then you have one chance. Identify yourself and provide any help and information you can and I promise that any threats made against you or your family will be dealt with. If someone threatened to harm members of your family, let us know now so that we can send teams to take them into protective custody. This is bigger than local police; this is bigger than any one government organization. This is connected with what happened yesterday at the London. That means this is international terrorism of the worst kind. There are no limits to what we will do to protect you and your family if—and only if—you step forward and cooperate with us right now.”

  I stepped back. They looked at each other. Probably friends reaching out voicelessly to each other, hoping to see innocence in familiar eyes and be judged innocent in turn. Or maybe looking for traces of guilt.

  “All lines of communication to this island have been cut,” I said. “That means that no word of what’s happening here will get out. If you’ve been told that harm will come to your loved ones unless the pathogen is released or the news hits the airwaves, then you need to speak up now. We can have teams anywhere in less than fifteen minutes. And all teams will be monitored, so even if there is a spy in the network he won’t be able to act before he can be stopped.”

  No one said anything.

  I edged closer and tapped the glass with my gun.

  “I’m having a really bad day, folks … so believe me when I tell you that if you don’t come forward and we find out who you are—and we will find out—then your day is going to make mine look like a Disney flick. Tick-tock.”

  Nothing.

  “Okay. That’s your call. Bear in mind, this isn’t U.S. soil and this facility does not officially exist. Anyone involved in this is hereby designated as an enemy combatant. You are about to disappear into the system and you will never resurface. There will be no one left to speak for your family.”

  I started to turn away.

  “Wait!”

  The crowd inside the fish tank stepped back from one figure. It was a large man near the back.

  “Please!” he said urgently. “They said they’d kill my mother and my sisters. They … they showed me pictures of what they’d do. Can you help them?”

  I stepped close to the glass. “What’s your name?”

  “Chip Scofield, building maintenance. God, please tell me you can help them. They said that if the rivers didn’t run red with blood, then the blood of my family would run like a river.” His voice was rising to a hysterical pitch. “Oh, God—get them out!”

  “Calm down, Chip. You’re doing the right thing. Can you tell me anything about them? Can you tell me anything about the Seven Kings?”

  “Yeah. The Spanish guy who—”

  Suddenly two shots rang out and Scofield was slammed forward against the glass with such force that blood shot all the way to the ceiling and splashed the glass for a dozen yards to either side. I heard him grunt in surprise with his last truncated breath. Everyone screamed and lunged away from a slender figure who stood with her back to the far wall.

  It was the woman who had pointed the way to Dr. Grey, and she held a .32 automatic in her gloved hand.

  She fired two more shots. Right at me. The glass of the fish tank spider-webbed, but I was already diving for the floor. Another two shots and the whole front of the tank exploded outward, throwing huge chunks of reinforced glass into the Hot Room. As I rolled sideways there was a fifth shot. I came up into a shooter’s crouch, my gun out in front of me in a two-handed grip, but when I put the laser sight on the spot where the woman had been standing it illuminated the center of a fresh splash of dark red. The woman slid slowly down the wall, her hand falling away from where she had placed the barrel beneath her chin. The wall behind where she had stood was splashed with blood, brains, and bits of bone.

  The screams from the other staff were shrill and unrelenting.

  I held my ground, fanning the gun back and forth, looking for another target, but I knew it was over. I’d had a single chance at this, and now it was gone.

  Interlude Twenty-four

  The Seven Kings

  Four Months Ago

  Gault and Toys returned to their separate apartments before dawn, but almost immediately Gault rapped on Toys’ door and came sweeping in, glowing with energy.

  “This is bloody marvelous!” he said.

  “Marvelous,” Toys agreed without inflection. “Drink?”

  “Martini,” Gault said, and Toys mixed them. “God, I can’t wait to read Kirov’s notes and see what they’ve been doing. A terror campaign based on the Ten Plagues? It’s brilliant.”

  “You’re praising a terror campaign, Sebastian.” Toys jiggled the pitcher. “Maybe you need a double.”

  Gault laughed and accepted a glass. “Let’s drink a toast.”

  Toys gave an unenthusiastic grunt.

  “What’s with you? You seemed pretty effing eager back in the Chamber.”

  “Did I? Mm. Maybe I was caught up in the moment,” Toys said. “I thought you were, too.”

  Gault snorted. “This isn’t just a ‘moment,’ Toys. This is our life now. Why is that so hard to grasp?”

  “Sebastian, we’ve been on the run for months. You were betrayed and nearly killed. After all these weeks of surgery and pain, you should be careful. Take things slow.”

  “Oh, sod that. This situation is tailor-made for me.”

  Toys noticed that Gault had changed his reference from “us” to “me.” It confirmed his fears. “Tailor-made? Really? Sebastian, we narrowly—narrowly—avoided being killed during your last ‘can’t fail’ master plan.” He paused and took a breath. “Look, we have money, and we still have youth and strength. We don’t need this. Let’s face it, we are not cut out to be evil geniuses. We never were. Let’s take the money and bloody well run.”

  “Not a chance. We already ran. Now we’ve arrived.”

  “Christ.” Toys flapped an arm. “And of course the fact that there’s a woman involved has nothing to do with your wanting to stay. You already have that look in your eyes.”

  “What look?” Gault’s voice was suddenly cool.

&n
bsp; “You know what I mean.”

  “No, why don’t you tell me?”

  Toys sighed. “Don’t start a fight, Sebastian. It’s just that when there’s a woman involved you—”

  “I what?” interrupted Gault sharply. He slapped down his martini glass hard enough to slosh the contents onto the wet bar and crossed the room to stand uncomfortably close to Toys. “I what, Toys? Are you saying that if I become interested in a woman I lose control? Or perspective?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what are you saying? You’re comparing the Goddess to Amirah and—”

  “Whoa, Sebastian, let’s have a little effing perspective. We’re not in the Chamber now and Eris is not a goddess.”

  “Perspective?” Gault murmured. He edged closer still, so that his breath was hot on Toys’ face. “Yes, let’s both have a perspective check. When things went wrong in Afghanistan I had a moment of weakness. I won’t deny it, Toys, and I needed you. I really did.”

  “Yes,” Toys said in a hoarse whisper.

  “But … what happened when I called out for your help? Do you remember?”

  “Sebastian, I—”

  “Do you fucking remember?” Gault snarled.

  Toys tried to meet Gault’s fierce glare, but he felt his own eyes growing moist and weak. He turned his face away.

  “You slapped me, Toys. I was in pain, I was desperate and your response was to attack me.”

  “It wasn’t an attack, Sebastian, and you damn well know it. You were sinking and I needed to snap you out of it.” Toys suddenly threw his drink against the wall and wheeled on Gault, his own anger finally rising. “If I hadn’t, then that fucking whore Amirah would have released a doomsday plague. A doomsday plague. How can you of all people not grasp what that means? If you want a perspective check, then embrace that for a moment. Christ, you’re lucky I didn’t put a bullet into you right there and then, because I bloody warned you about her. I warned you over and over that she couldn’t be trusted, and each time you ignored me.”

  “She was my—”

  “What? Your ‘lover’? Get a sodding grip, Sebastian! She was playing you. She played you all the way and then she turned into a goddamn zombie and tried to eat you. I mean … how thick are you that you can’t see that you were wrong?” He jabbed Gault in the chest with the tip of his finger. Gault flinched but held his ground. “Or have you become so bitter and arrogant that you can’t admit that you made a misstep? You want to get mad at me for hitting you? Go ahead!”

  “I’m warning you, Toys—”

  “No! You don’t warn me.” Toys jabbed his finger again, much harder this time. “If we’re going to be part of this bullshit, then while you go and play King I’ll be the Conscience I’m supposed to be. If there are no lies and no secrets in this absurd secret bloody society, then let that start right here and now. I love you, Sebastian. Like a brother. More than a brother, but I will not take your shit. Not now, and not ever. And I will not let you make another mistake.”

  Gault looked down at the finger that was still pressed into his chest right above his heart. He slowly, gently reached up and pushed it away.

  “Listen to me, Toys,” he said softly. “Don’t think I’m unaware and ungrateful for what you’ve done for me over the years. You’ve been closer to me than family. You are my family. I’ve never had secrets from you. But don’t forget who you were before I found you. A minimum-wage laborer in one of my plants. I was the one who saw something special in you, the potential. I paid for your education; I put you in that posh flat; I let you buy whatever you wanted.”

  “And I earned those things a thousand times over.”

  Gault gave a single stubborn shake of his head. “When I found you, you were nothing.”

  “Maybe,” hissed Toys, “but a few months ago this ‘nothing’ kept you from destroying ‘everything,’ so don’t be all high-and-mighty with me.”

  Gault’s mouth opened and closed. He turned and began striding away, but within a few steps he slowed and stopped. His rigid shoulders slumped, and in a gentler voice he said, “The world has changed, Toys. It started when Amirah betrayed me. I feel … I feel like the fires that burned my flesh also burned away something else.” He turned. “It burned away my weakness, my doubt. I can look back at the Seif Al Din project and I can see where I went wrong, just as I can see how I would do it all differently. Life usually doesn’t give you a chance to start over, to do it the right way … and yet here we are. Not only is this a second chance; it’s a chance at something greater, grander, than anything we imagined. All of those wild, mad dreams we had, they’re nothing compared to this. We passed through fire, Toys—you and me—and we emerged as changed beings. Purified. No longer ordinary men. The universe has opened the door to greatness. Don’t you understand? To greatness.”

  The moment held and stretched.

  Toys wiped tears from his eyes. “Is this what you want, Sebastian?” he asked quietly. “Look me in the eye and tell me, brother to brother, that this—the Seven Kings, the path to domination, all this death and destruction—is what you truly want.”

  Gault crossed the room and placed his hands on Toys’ cheeks, framing his face. He bent and kissed Toys on the forehead. Gault’s eyes burned like candles.

  “Yes,” he said. “This isn’t just what I want, Toys. This is what I will have.”

  Toys searched Gault’s face, looked deep into his friend’s eyes. He shivered. If eyes were the windows of the soul, then …

  God save my soul, he thought.

  “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

  Interlude Twenty-five

  The Seven Kings

  Four Months Ago

  The American sipped his whiskey as he watched the replay of the argument between Toys and Sebastian Gault. It was the fourth time he had viewed it. During each viewing he focused on a different aspect of the spat. This last time he had zoomed in to watch the expressions on Toys’ face. He found them very interesting.

  He swirled the whiskey, enjoying the tinkle of ice cubes.

  “Okay,” said Toys. “Okay.”

  The American played that back with the sound up, listening for subtleties of intent and meaning in the young Englishman’s voice.

  The King of Fear smiled.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Fair Isle Research Endeavor

  The Shetland Isles

  December 18, 3:47 P.M. GMT

  I stood naked in a decontamination chamber while antibacterial and antiviral agents blasted me from every possible angle. I scrubbed my skin until I glowed in the dark. Afterward they made me stand in a full-scale BAMS unit for five minutes.

  “You’re clean,” Hu announced, though he sounded almost disappointed.

  Everything I’d been wearing, including my sidearm, was sealed in a steel drum filled with some kind of acid. Even the fumes from the acid were vented through filters and stored in tanks. I was okay with the procedure. If this strain of Ebola ever got out it would make 28 Days Later look like a Pixar comedy.

  I just wished that there was some way for all these gadgets and chemicals to scrub the filth off my soul.

  I dressed in an extra set of Barrier BDUs and a pair of sneakers that were half a size too small. All I had left of my personal belongings was my anorak and my dog. Ghost came and sniffed me suspiciously a few times, confused by my lack of scent, but I rubbed the back of my wrist to coax some of the natural oils to the surface and when he took another sniff he licked my hand. I knelt down and hugged the furry monster for a while. If it was too tight, Ghost didn’t seem to mind. He wagged his tail and whined a little, sensing the hurt that I felt. Dogs are truly the best of companions. You don’t need to explain. They know as much as they need to know, and they are loyal no matter what sins you’ve committed.

  As I got to my feet I looked at FIRE. It was draped in sheets of heavy gray cloth and men in hazmat suits were spraying the cloth with noxious-smelling foam. Above us, a dozen choppe
rs armed with Hellfire missiles kept watch. Somewhere over the horizon Prebble’s chums in the Royal Navy were poised to turn this whole island into a memory of charred dust if the right word was given.

  Church was waiting for me near our chopper. The winter sun was setting and a bank of clouds was rising from the horizon line like a curtain being cranked into place.

  Church handed me a cup of coffee. “It’s instant,” he said, “but it’s hot.”

  I sipped it and winced. It tasted like the stuff they’d been spraying me with.

  “First,” he said, “a complete team from Nellis is on-scene at Area 51. The five remaining members of your team are fine and have been treated for minor wounds.” When I said nothing, he went on. “Jerry Spencer has taken over the Plympton crime scene.”

  “He have anything to say?”

  Church almost smiled. “He isn’t happy that you messed with the evidence.”

  “I’ll cry about it later.”

  “Other than that, he told me that he would call me if he had anything and asked that I stop bothering him while he was working. His natural warmth and charm are apparently unaffected by the scope of this disaster.”

  I nodded toward FIRE. “What about Scofield’s mother and sisters?”

  “Both sisters are already in protective custody in Newark and San Francisco. His mother is in a nursing home in Delray Beach. I sent Riptide Team out of Miami to guard her. We’re running background checks on every employee and patient at the nursing home. As soon as we can get a trusted gerontologist on-site we’ll move her to a secure facility.”