Riley needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts before he addressed Kirchner again, staring into his eyes. “You were wrong once, and you could be wrong again.”
“Of course I could be wrong. This could all be a misunderstanding, but . . . think about it,” he said, counting on his fingers. “We’re on a corsair ship flying an Allied flag, on the way to your country, on a secret mission that involves over thirty agents infiltrating a densely populated region.” He dropped a hand on the folder. “And if we add this terrible virus to the equation . . . suddenly everything fits together.”
Jack almost choked. “What you’re saying is that those spies we just ate with are infected with the virus and their mission is to spread it in the US and the world?”
Kirchner coughed. “Unless they found a way to spread it without a host . . . yes, I think so.”
“Then we could be infected too, right?”
“Hold on,” Riley said, raising a finger. “What did you say Aussterben’s incubation period is?”
“From five to twelve—of course!” Kirchner shouted, pressing a finger to his temple. “If they are already infected, they would feel the effects before they land. Why didn’t I think of it before? That means they still haven’t been inoculated with the virus.”
“Which means if the virus exists,” Riley said, “it must be stored somewhere.”
The three men looked at each other, remembering they were in a strange sickroom with a hazard warning on the door. Then they looked at the simple white refrigerator a few feet tall, purring innocently just three steps away, holding the fate of mankind.
56
Riley carefully opened the refrigerator door as if it led to the underworld.
Three dozen small airtight aluminum boxes filled the inside of the fridge. Riley and Jack gave Kirchner a nervous nod, and he carefully took one of them out.
He lifted the lid.
Inside was a yellow sponge in the same shape as the box. A cork labeled with the number 7 was nestled in the center. Without consulting them this time, Kirchner stuck his thumb and forefinger in, grasping the cork as gently as possible, and took out a glass test tube containing a dark-red liquid.
“Here it is,” he said in a trembling voice. “The apocalypse in the palm of my hand.”
“It looks like blood,” Jack said, transfixed.
“Are you sure . . . ?” Riley asked, pointing to it.
Kirchner nodded as he put the tube back in the box, and the box back in the fridge.
“We have to destroy it,” Riley said. “Immediately.”
“The question is how. If we break the tubes the virus will spread all over the ship,” Kirchner said.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Jack asked. “We already figured this would be a one-way trip. The important thing is the ship doesn’t reach port.”
“It’s not that, Mr. Alcántara. Even if the whole crew gets sick, some would survive. Or maybe they’re vaccinated and would be able to carry out their mission.”
“Helmut’s right,” Riley said. “Many would die before reaching the US, but the survivors would be able to get off and spread the virus. We have to find another way.”
“Burn it?” Jack said. “Fire kills everything.”
“Not always, and the smoke could carry living cells,” Kirchner said.
“What if we just unplug the fridge?” Riley asked. “Wouldn’t that kill it?”
“With time, maybe, but not definitely, and someone would find out sooner or later.”
“We could close the doors and guard this room,” Jack said.
Riley shook his head again. “They’d get in one way or another, and without weapons we’d only slow them down.” He rubbed his chin. “We have to think of something definite, something final, that doesn’t leave them a chance to use the virus.”
“But we have no way of destroying it,” Kirchner said.
Jack spread his arms, palms up, and dejectedly said, “Just throw it all overboard then.”
Riley scrutinized him with bloodshot eyes.
Jack frowned. “You’re not seriously considering it, Alex. How the hell would we get all these tubes to deck without them seeing us?”
“We could create a distraction.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Maybe starting a fire. That we could do.”
Jack scratched his beard and nodded. “That could work.”
“But it would have to be a big fire,” Kirchner said, gaining hope. “And if possible on the other end of the ship, so they all go that way.”
“Good,” Riley said. “Then that’s what we’ll do. You and Helmut go to the machine room and get a nice flame going. Meanwhile, I’ll empty out one of the supply boxes out there, put the tubes inside, and when the sirens start I’ll find a way to the deck and throw the shit in the water.”
Kirchner and Jack looked at each other and nodded.
“Done deal,” Jack said.
“And after that?” Kirchner asked. “What do we do?”
Riley blinked a few times. “There is no after, Doctor. If we’re lucky enough to pull it off, the next thing they’ll do is shoot us.”
Kirchner briefly shuddered, then nodded solemnly.
“Okay,” Riley said, going over to Jack and Kirchner and putting a hand on each of their shoulders, looking them in the eye. “Then I’m afraid this is good-bye.”
Kirchner gripped Riley’s hand. “Good luck, Captain Riley. It’s been an honor knowing you.”
“The honor’s mine, Helmut. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you to Lisbon.”
“Don’t be sorry. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, doing what really matters.”
Riley slapped his back and faced Jack. “Old friend . . .”
“Oh shit, shut it,” Jack said, pulling him in for a hug that almost knocked him over.
Riley felt something wet on his neck, and when he realized they were his friend’s tears, he almost told him to toughen up. Then he realized he was crying too.
They hugged silently for almost a minute, then both stepped back with red eyes, biting their lips so they wouldn’t tremble and looking at each other with no need to say anything, since it’d all been said.
“God be with us,” Jack muttered in a weak voice.
“God be with us,” Riley said, nodding. He took a deep breath for courage and, before parting ways, asked, “Any questions?”
The response was unexpected, for it came from Captain von Eichhain, who was standing in the doorway. “Well actually,” he said in his educated, thickly accented voice as the click of several guns rang out, “I have one.”
57
As the three of them turned to the door with their hearts in their throats, half a dozen sailors with MP40 machine guns came in and flanked the entrance. Von Eichhain came forward, pointing the Luger at his hip at Riley’s stomach.
They’d finally been found out.
Whether it was by chance, or because they’d called attention to themselves in the dining room, or because they’d never been trusted didn’t matter now.
The fact was this was it.
End of story.
Riley looked at Jack and sensed the same word was flashing in his mind: failure.
A failure that would doom hundreds of millions of people to death.
All their efforts to get to that point, all the sacrifices and lives they put at risk—for nothing.
Worse, his crew, Elsa, Carmen, his friends all over the world, his own family, his father, mother . . . everyone who had known and loved him—he’d failed all of them. Again.
That seemed to be his destiny. At least now I’ll be done with the ghosts that try to even the score at night.
The certainty of that final failure weighed on him like a mountain, and, ignoring the soldiers yelling in German, he fell into the wooden chair and threw his head in his hands, knowing it didn’t matter if he obeyed or not.
It was all over.
Kirchner, neverth
eless, started to speak, but before he could, von Eichhain raised a hand to stop him.
“There’s certainly nothing that needs explanation,” he said, more disappointed than angry. “It’s now very clear who the three of you are . . . something you’ll pay for with your lives.” He loaded his pistol. “Without exception.”
“Fuck yourself,” Jack said, crossing his arms.
Von Eichhain shouted something in German, and the sailors aimed their guns at them.
“Don’t do it, Captain!” Kirchner shouted, taking a step forward with his hands up. “You have to listen to me!”
“There’s nothing you can say to save your miserable life. At least have the decency to die with dignity.”
“No! Listen to me! Our lives don’t matter, but listen to what I have to say.”
Von Eichhain hesitated. “I don’t speak with spies and traitors.”
“I’m not a traitor,” Kirchner said, shaking his head, sweat running down his face. “At least not to our country. Give me five minutes, and you’ll understand what I mean. Don’t you want to know why we’re here?”
Another pause. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”
Kirchner stared at Riley and Jack in shock. They lifted their heads in sudden interest with expressions that said, Go on, Helmut. You’re the only one who can do it.
Kirchner picked up the papers from the table and showed them to von Eichhain. “It’s all here,” he said nervously. “Operation Apokalypse isn’t, as you surely believe, releasing agents to infiltrate the US and sabotage its infrastructure. The real mission is killing two billion people in the world with a horrible virus. The real mission our leaders gave you is the annihilation of the human race. Do you really want to be a part of that? Do you want to be responsible for those deaths? What does your soldier’s conscience tell you, Captain Eichhain? Your sense of honor?”
“Are you trying to tell me about honor? You?”
“Not at all. I’m just trying to get you to listen. Read this and make your own judgment.”
Von Eichhain stared at him.
“Please,” Kirchner said, stretching out his hand with the documents. “Read it.”
Von Eichhain glanced at Riley and Jack, their faces now reflecting a glimmer of hope. Then he gave another order to the soldiers, who stepped forward, still aiming at them. He put his Luger away without taking his eyes off Kirchner, took the folder with his left hand, and opened it to the first page.
As he read, his expression changed from skepticism to surprise and finally to horror. Three minutes later, he faced Helmut again.
“How do I know,” he asked, faltering as he closed the folder, looking at it incredulously, “this isn’t all a setup to delay my mission?”
Riley chuckled drily. “See for yourself,” he said, standing up. He took a few steps and put his bandaged hand on the fridge in spite of the soldiers, who hadn’t fully grasped the situation yet and seemed more and more uneasy. “If you don’t believe us or what you just read,” he added, “why not take a look in here?” And like the illusionist who finally shows there’s no one in the coffin, he opened the refrigerator door to reveal the rows of little gray boxes housing the deadly virus.
Von Eichhain walked between Kirchner and Jack toward the fridge, glancing at Riley. Then he opened one of the small boxes, examined its contents against the light, and put it back. He looked at Kirchner again, this time with a hint of acknowledgment, gave some orders to his men, and headed for the door.
After a step, he turned around again. “Don’t be fooled. You three are under arrest. You’ll be confined until we reach Germany, where a military tribunal will sentence you, certainly to death, for espionage and intent to sabotage.” He looked back at the folder. “But I’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll break radio silence to contact my superiors, and if things are what they seem . . .” He swallowed and shook his head. “I guarantee such an atrocity will not be committed under my command. As long as I’m in charge of this ship, I won’t—”
A sharp bang cut off his speech and a twisted, flesh-colored flower sprouted out of his forehead. Riley felt hot liquid hit his face and drops run down it in thick lines. The limp body of the captain fell forward, hitting the metal floor with a thud. Only then did Riley notice Fromm with a smoking gun in the doorway.
“Im Auftrag unseres Führers,” he spat at the soldiers, who were paralyzed, incapable of reacting after seeing the deputy kill the captain with a bullet to the back of the head. “Übergabe des Deimos von Kommandant von Eichhain wegen versuchten Verrates des Dritten Reiches!”
He turned to the three of them with a sadistic smile on his lips. “I’m in charge of this ship now. My superiors knew the old man would have problems completing his mission, so they sent me to”—he smiled again, friendly as a shark to a sardine—“relieve him, if necessary. The truth is,” he said, pulling the folder from von Eichhain’s hand and flipping through it like a rare specimen, as if he’d found a black swan in the middle of the ocean, “I have no idea how you found all this out, and despite my deep contempt, I can’t help but admire you for coming this far. You were very close to reaching your objective, but as you know, life is unfair. Anyway, auf Wiedersehen.”
When he turned back to the sailors, he addressed them in a different, deeper voice. “Alle drei an die Wand stellen und erschiessen.”
Helmut, who had perfectly understood Fromm’s order to stand them against the wall and shoot them, turned to Riley. Riley didn’t need a translation, for he saw the certainty of death in his eyes and knew they had only a few seconds to live.
58
Despite being armed with automatic weapons, the soldiers were luckily sailors, not infantrymen. Their brief pause between receiving the order and starting to carry it out was enough for Riley and Jack to react.
Riley tackled Kirchner to the ground and dragged the table over with his foot to use as cover. Shots rang out and, passing the spot where he’d just stood, hit the far bulkhead. Jack, with the same soldier’s instinct, rolled behind the fridge, out of sight.
Over the din of gunfire and bullets hitting metal and wood, Fromm screamed about the danger of hitting the virus containers. “Waffenruhe! Waffenruhe!” he cried, ordering his men to stop shooting.
Some 9 mm bullets had gone through the thick wood of the table, but the majority had only chipped it. The fridge had received some dents in its metal door. Gunpowder smoke hung like a dirty fog across the ten yards separating the Germans, still by the doorway, and the three of them, barricaded in the middle of the hull. Fromm then ordered his men to flank them.
They probably had about ten seconds left.
“He was telling them not to shoot in here,” Kirchner whispered, “because of the test tubes.”
Seven seconds.
Riley nodded. Their position had an unexpected advantage, but it would only last until they were surrounded. He raised his head and looked for an idea among the mess of splinters and broken glass. He met Jack’s gaze and nodded toward the door on the far bulkhead.
Three seconds.
Riley’s suggestion was clear. The problem was how to get there. As soon as they went for it, they’d be seen. He thought frantically of setting fire to the cot or rushing forward with the table as a shield, but immediately discarded those ideas as absurd.
One second.
Then he saw it.
Von Eichhain’s dead body was just a few feet away, and the Luger’s black handle stuck out of his holster. That’s it.
He lunged toward the body, and before the sailors could realize what was happening, he’d grabbed the pistol and shot five times.
The sailors, under orders not to fire, tried to find cover, but there was none in that empty hold, so they dove to the ground. Meanwhile, Fromm stood firm and took out his own pistol, yelling for them to ignore the shots and capture the spies.
That moment was all Riley needed. He pulled Kirchner up like a doll and carried him toward the other door, firing with every step so t
he sailors had to stay down. When they got there, Jack was already turning the wheel to open it.
The sailors had gotten up and were chasing after them when Jack finally opened the door. They opened fire as he pulled Kirchner through the far doorway. After using the second-to-last bullet in the cartridge, Riley dove, hitting the floor hard. He heard the clang of Jack shutting the door behind them.
As Jack turned the wheel to seal the door, Riley stood up and looked around for anything useful. He found a big wrench in a box of supplies. He picked it up and, when the sailors started to turn the wheel, he wedged it in to block the door.
“Holy shit,” Jack said, catching his breath with his back against the bulkhead. “That was close.”
The room was lit only by a red bulb over the door that barely outlined their silhouettes. Kirchner was still on the floor. After a quick scan, Riley found a small hatch above their heads with an iron ladder leading up to it.
“There’s an exit here,” he said, putting his foot on the first rung. “We have to keep going.”
Still winded, Jack started heading over, but Kirchner seemed to have no intention of getting up.
“Come on, Doctor,” Riley said, offering him a hand. “We’ve gotta hurry.”
Kirchner didn’t move. “I . . . I think I’ll stay. I’ll only hold you back.”
“Stop being ridiculous and give me your hand.”
“I think . . . No.”
“What the hell are—”
Kirchner unbuttoned his jacket to reveal a big stain over his stomach. It looked black under the light, but Riley knew it was bloodred.
They leaned over Kirchner as he lay on his back, touching the wound and looking at his fingers. He studied the thick, sticky substance distantly, as if he were amazed that it had come from inside his body.
Captain Riley (The Captain Riley Adventures Book 1) Page 35