Oath of Office

by Michael Palmer

  Instead of responding, Stone surveyed the crowded underground laboratory, training his gun wherever he looked. With a nod, he motioned Lou down a central corridor toward another door. It was stainless steel, like the others, but this one had no keypad. Lou moved up beside the cop.

  “I think you’ll want to see what’s behind this,” Stone said.

  “Aren’t we being a bit cavalier, not sending for backup?” Lou asked.

  Stone did not reply. Still training his gun ahead of him, he opened the door. It seemed to Lou as if the man knew precisely what he would find, and was not at all concerned. From where Lou stood, the space ahead was dark. Stone disappeared through doorway, reached to his left, and flipped on high-powered fluorescent lights. Moments later he motioned with his gun for Lou to follow.

  Lou hesitated, feeling increasingly uneasy. Oh, well, he thought, in for a penny—

  One step through the door, and he froze.

  The space, warm and humid, was at least the same size as the laboratory. Echoing off the stainless steel walls was the machinery-like humming of insects—many, many insects. He stepped forward onto a grated steel walkway with heavy metal pipe railings and three- or four-foot chain-link sidewalls that crossed a pit at least twenty feet deep. The whole space just below the walkway was covered with a dense metal screen. With the overheads reflecting off the fine mesh, it was difficult to see what was in the pit.

  But Lou had no doubt.

  Stone reached over to the wall next to him and depressed a large red plastic button. Smoothly, gears engaged and the vast screen slid back on tracks and rolled up on a reel at the far end. Revealed below was a terrible, surreal landscape. The sides of the massive pit were lined with brushed stainless steel, gleaming beneath the overheads. The surface of the space looked like an alien moonscape, formed by at least a hundred termite mounds of various heights and sizes, some of which reached upward to within ten or fifteen feet of the walkway. The chilling diorama was swarming with Macrotermes bellicosi. Like the mound in the forest, more insects were humming about through the air—some actually flying above the steel catwalk.

  For a time, Lou remained transfixed on the bugs below as they moved with blind purpose in and out of the mounds. This was their city—their home. The clicking of thousands of feet and jaws made his fillings ache.

  The walkways were three feet wide, crossing at right angles to one another over the precise center of the pit. Thick metal rods, descending from the ceiling, held the walks firmly suspended in place. There was a door ending the walk to their left, and a third door, painted red, directly across from them. That door featured a large decal with the yellow symbol for a biohazard. Even from where he stood, he could read the words below the symbol: CAUTION RADIATION AREA.

  Lou batted at a huge termite that buzzed past his face. “Behind that door is where they must be mutating the termites,” Lou said as much to himself as to Stone. “And the conveyor belt in the lab we just passed through is where they fire the termite reproductive genes into the corn seeds.”

  He had been so astonished by what he was seeing that it took some time for him to register that the police chief was not.

  Stone nudged the toe of his boot against a sturdy metal pole resting by his foot. The pole had what looked like several extension segments, and the head of it had a rotating claw for grabbing and gripping. Lou wondered if it was used for feeding.

  “I’m guessing these are your bugs,” Stone said, too nonchalantly.

  Lou looked over at the heavy service revolver and felt himself shudder. “No ladders. There’s a reason people don’t want to go down into that pit. The termites must not be able to scale that surface.”

  Stone appeared somewhat troubled. “And you think the bugs little Joey adopted slipped out of a crack somewhere in the foundation here?”

  “I do. Or else enough of them flew out and escaped this place to start a colony.”

  “Let’s see if we can find where that leak might have happened. That infernal clicking and grinding can really get to you. Can’t hardly hear your own footsteps sometimes. It’s like they’re constantly eating.”

  But eating what?

  Stone stepped out onto the catwalk until he was standing above one of the larger mounds.

  Now with his senses electrified, Lou followed. Stone’s haphazard approach to investigating the lab and observing the termite metropolis continued to gnaw at him. Even without firsthand knowledge of police departmental procedure, Lou assumed that Stone had violated many safety measures in this investigation.

  If he’s so familiar with this place, Lou wondered, why did he even let me come down here? If anything happens to me, it would be Stone’s responsibility.

  Lou glanced down into the pit again. Something between two mounds directly beneath him caught his eye—a glint of gold. He strained to get a better look. Then his body tensed and he broke into a chilling sweat. The golden object was a necklace with a handcuff pendant attached—Notso Brite’s necklace.

  It was at that moment Lou knew exactly why the chief had let him tag along.

  CHAPTER 44

  Lou had no doubt that any moment he was going to die, and most likely die horribly. Another thing he had no doubt about was that he was not going to go down without a hell of a fight.

  He took a single step back to size up his situation and the potbellied lawman who he was certain was about to kill him. The first thing he warned himself of was that under no circumstance was he going to underestimate the man. Despite his bulk, Stone carried himself with the balance, grace, and confidence of a fighter—probably a brawler. At the moment, though, he appeared totally at ease, almost blissful. Holding his pistol loosely in front of him, he looked like anything other than a man who was preparing to kill.

  Lou wondered if Stone was aware that his target had figured out what was coming. More than likely, he decided.

  Desperately, Lou searched for a move, any move, that would shorten the odds against him. His advantage was his quickness, his skill as a boxer, and the surprise if he managed to make his play before Stone made his.

  Trying to run would result only in a bullet between the shoulder blades. Lou did not know when Stone intended to strike, only that it would happen and happen soon. The pit made for the perfect human disposal receptacle. If the man was trained in martial arts, he might try to gain leverage to flip Lou over the rail. The bugs would devour his clothes while they were mulching his flesh. His bones would be last.

  More likely, Stone would neutralize him first with a single shot, possibly to a nonvital spot. From where the policeman was cradling his gun, Lou would have a second or so before he could raise it and fire. Cap would have shown him the move he should go to—possibly a jab-uppercut combination. He would have more confidence if he could connect with a weapon of some sort. Then he realized that he had one in his pants pocket—the pencil he had been using to graph the termites’ ventilation shafts.

  Stone was gesturing below them and commenting on the setup.

  Easy, Lou warned himself as he turned away an inch or so and slid his hand into his pocket. The pencil was there, complete with point.

  Perfect.

  Lou gestured into the pit. “Look,” he said. “Look there.”

  Stone kept a wary distance and peered below. “I don’t see anything.”

  The termites’ clicking seemed to have gotten louder, as if they sensed a meal was on the way.

  With thoughts of Emily and their last, too brief, conversation, Lou slipped the pencil out of his pocket, then held it under his wrist and concealed it against the top of the catwalk railing. Leaning forward, hoping Stone would react to his vulnerability, he gestured down at the golden necklace.

  Lou’s grip on the handrail was tight. His feet were well spaced and his knees wedged up against the sidewall.

  Make your move, Stone … make your move … make your move.…

  Sweat slickened Lou’s grip. He wanted to wipe his hands dry to strengthen his hold,
but feared letting go of the handrail for even a moment. Below him, he watched the bugs scamper about. He imagined their jaws sinking into his flesh—digesting him one small piece at a time.

  Come on.…

  One second … two … three …

  Maybe I’m wrong about the man, Lou found himself thinking.

  The loss of concentration was only momentary, but it was enough.

  Stone grabbed Lou by the back of the shirt and slammed the muzzle across the back of his head. Lou was still prepared enough to twist away, reducing the force of the blow. Still, his vision blurred and his knees buckled. He would have gone down had he not been wedged against the sidewall.

  “You should have stayed out of Kings Ridge,” Stone said, raising his gun for another blow.

  Lou released his grip on the railing, ducked as if he were avoiding a vicious right hook, and brought the pencil up behind his shoulder. Still bleary, he approximated where Stone’s neck would be and stabbed at it with a broad, sweeping motion. The pencil sank into the muscle beside the man’s throat. Lou hoped to tear into the jugular vein, but sensed right away that hadn’t happened. Stone cried out and stumbled backwards, raising his gun.

  Lou parried the pistol with his left forearm and rammed his fist into Stone’s abdomen with as much force as he had ever hit a man. Stone splayed backwards, crashing into the railing and teetering perilously over the edge for a moment before righting himself. The pencil stuck out from his neck like a bloodied yellow dart.

  Bellowing like an enraged bull, Stone hunched over and drove his head into the center of Lou’s chest. Intense pain exploded from the spot, and Lou’s initial fear was that the bone had shattered. His vision dimmed, then went dark. Moments later, when he regained his senses, he was kneeling on the catwalk. Stone was looming above him, clawing at the pencil.

  As the pencil came free, followed by a jet of blood, Lou dived for the man’s ankles, got ahold of the right one, and twisted it sharply. Stone fell backwards, landing with a force that shook the entire catwalk. Lou straddled him, grabbed his head on each side, and slammed it onto the catwalk—once, then again, and again. Stone grunted with each blow, and finally went limp. Lou, gasping for breath and feeling as if his sternum might have been broken, slumped over onto the catwalk, then painfully pulled himself to his feet.

  At that moment, from beyond Stone’s prostrate, motionless body, Lou saw the radiation room door swing open. A man dressed in a bright yellow biocontainment suit emerged from the shadows of the room beyond. Groaning with each breath, Lou steeled himself to turn and run, but the suited man held up a hand in a nonthreatening gesture. Then he lifted the hood away from his face.

  “Jesus,” Lou whispered.

  He stepped over the fallen police chief and met Edwin Chester halfway past the convergence of the catwalks. Below them the clicking had grown more intense.

  “I was involved in an experiment and didn’t hear anything that was going on,” Edwin said. “For as long as I can remember, Gilbert Stone has been owned by my father. He can be one of the most heartless, frightening men I have ever met.”

  “He brought me down here to kill me,” Lou said.

  “I don’t think you’d be the first. He does a lot of my father’s dirty work.”

  “Edwin, this whole business has gotten out of hand.”

  “I didn’t want any of this to happen. I told my father the corn wasn’t ready, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

  “I thought you were his protector.”

  “I am, but that doesn’t keep me from trying to cancel out some of the things he does. That’s why I contacted Darlene Mallory in the first place.”

  “You? You’re Double M?”

  Edwin grinned. “You expected someone a little taller and heavier? I have boots with six- and seven-inch lifts, and specially padded jackets. In my world, trust can be a very expensive commodity. I tend to stand out because of my lack of height, so when I need to, I just do something about it.”

  “But why the charade? Why didn’t you just come forward and tell what you knew had happened?”

  “You don’t know my father,” Edwin said. “He’s really a very wonderful man—by far the most important person in my—” His eyes widened. “Lou! Behind you!”

  Lou whirled. Stone had unsteadily pushed himself to his knees and, eyes glazed, was fumbling for his gun, which had been on the catwalk underneath him. There were no choices available this time—no strategies. The distance between him and Stone was ten yards. Ignoring the pain in his chest, and keeping as low as he could manage, Lou charged. Stone rattled off two wild shots that clanged off the steel walls. The third one, fired from no more than six feet away, tore through the outside edge of Lou’s left thigh.

  Lou cried out as he dropped to one knee, but his momentum carried him flailing into Stone, who was bowled over backwards. The pistol went clattering across the catwalk and slid under the railing. Lou pounded the cop in the face again and again. Blood gushing from Stone’s nostrils flowed into blood streaming from the hole in his neck. Still, the man was able to shove Lou off and make it to his feet, pulling Lou up by the shirt and squeezing the air and life out of him with the strength of a python.

  Quickly, Lou’s strength began to fail. Stone swung his hips to the right, lifting Lou’s feet off the catwalk and slamming him against the railing. Lou, now nearly helpless, tried and failed to drop down to avoid being thrown over the edge. The pressure of Stone’s thick arms was unbearable. His face, teeth gritted, was a bloody mask.

  Lou pushed against Stone’s chest with all his strength, but failed to put any distance between them. He was now aware of a burning pain from the muscle where the bullet had torn through. At that instant, Lou’s knees went slack and he experienced the horrific sensation of his feet leaving the catwalk. Before he could make another move, he was over the top of the railing. Frantically, he forced his fingers through the steel chain link of the catwalk wall and gripped it as tightly as he could.

  Every breath was an agonizing effort. His feet dangled down, precariously close to the hordes of termites milling below him. His palms stretched until they burned. His arms quivered from exertion and utter fatigue. Grateful for the hours of training under Cap’s tutelage, Lou managed to stretch up with his right foot and slip it over a support beam beneath the walk. At that instant, Stone appeared above him, his face a hideous mask of gore. Blood, dripping down into the pit below Lou, sent the colony clicking and scurrying about. Grinning ferociously, Stone tapped the toe of his heavy boot against Lou’s fingers, sending electric pain shooting down his arm.

  “Fast or slow?” Stone asked. “Your choice.”

  He emphasized his question with another light tap. Though he tried, Lou failed to keep himself from crying out. His left hand fumbled to improve his grip on the metal. The tightness in his palm intensified.

  Emmy, I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.

  Lou tried to will himself to hold on, but felt his grip starting to release. Perspiration was stinging his eyes. His left hand was about to let go when he heard a scream from above, followed by the sound of running footsteps that shook the catwalk.

  “No!” Edwin shouted as he charged the police chief.

  Buoyed by the attack, Lou managed to tighten his grip. He craned his neck and looked upward just in time to see Edwin swing the metal extension pipe, connecting heavily with Stone’s temple. A second blow landed on the side of the man’s neck.

  Stone staggered back from the sidewall. Swinging his weapon wildly, Edwin charged after him, stumbling against his broad chest. The two men grappled on the catwalk, spinning in circles, with Stone screaming in both rage and pain. Lou tried to pull himself up, but his arms were shaking from fatigue.

  Emily.… Come on, you idiot, do it for your kid.…

  He gained a little more purchase with his foot and then finally was able to adjust the position of his hands. Overhead he could see Stone beginning to maul the much slighter Edwin.

  He had to ge
t up to help.

  At that moment, Edwin made a move, almost certainly unexpected, that spun Stone around and rammed his back into the upper railing of the catwalk. In an instant, locked in each other’s arms, the two of them went over, brushing past Lou as they fell.

  The heavy thud beneath him was dreadful, and was quickly followed by the unremitting shrieks of Gilbert Stone. But Lou was too weak to turn and look. He hoped that the lack of sound from Edwin meant that the man had been knocked unconscious.

  The clicking and cracking from the termite jaws, reverberating off the steel walls, became deafening.

  Inch by painful inch, Lou advanced upward along the outside of the catwalk wall, using his foot to push and his fingers to pull. Finally, he was upright, hanging on to the wall. Fearing what he was going to see, he finally had the strength to look down. The two adversaries lay supine, a foot from each other, their hands nearly touching. Edwin was motionless, a pool of insect-covered crimson expanding from beneath his head.

  Stone was moaning and squirming with pain. His eye sockets were already filled with termites, and dozens, if not hundreds of them seemed to be forcing their way into his mouth. His lips were moving as if he were trying to speak, but no recognizable words were emerging.

  Lou hung on until his wind had somewhat returned. Then he swung his legs over the top railing of the catwalk wall and dropped to his side on the metal grate, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The bullet wound to his thigh burned, but he knew that with time, the scar would be a memento of what had been the worst day of a life that had experienced more than its share of them.

  Below him, the clicking and grinding of thousands of Macrotermes bellicosi had built into a turbinelike crescendo. Still laboring for each breath, Lou stumbled to his feet and grabbed the extension pole Edwin had used to save his life. By the time he returned to the spot where he might have had a chance to reach the man, it was way too late.