NanoStrike

  All eyes moved to Quinn’s face, then down to the plastic carrier in his right hand.

  “Mr. Eudon,” Quinn said, “my friends and I have some immigration problems to resolve. I would appreciate your help.”

  Nazar grinned. “Mr. Quinn, if that bag contains what I hope it does, I will help you and my two friends any way I can. But first, we must examine the goods.”

  The smile stayed, and Quinn saw the steel behind Nazar’s eyes. He didn’t have much choice. Ironically, they were safer with Eudon than they would be with the authorities, and at least he didn’t want to murder people with the nanobots. He handed over the carrier. The professor’s hand shook as he placed the flask inside the glove box and closed the door.

  The professor pushed his hands in the sleeves and used gloves to open the thermos. Wisps of vapor escaped the top. He pulled out a glass tube and put the flask to one side. He positioned the tube in a holder at the center of the box. One of the techs punched some keys on the computer keyboard, and the box flooded with red light.

  While everyone focused on the glove box, Quinn scanned the room again; definitely only one exit, where the guards stood. All the white-coats and Nazar stared at the monitor. David stood back, lips moving in prayer, eyes squeezed shut.

  Nazar spun around and glared at David. “Is this a joke? These nanobots are the same as the ones you left here. They have less than a week of life!”

  Quinn checked the display, trying to understand the problem:

  Target – C2H5OH (Ethanol)

  Inhibitor – C2H5OH*30% (Ethanol)

  Feedstock – Bio

  Catalyst – Photon

  ss:mm:hh:dd:mm

  Activate - 00:00:00:00:00

  Terminate – 59:59:23:31:07

  The data didn’t mean a damn thing to him, but Nazar was pissed.

  David said, “I can reset the parameter.”

  “You b . . . b . . . built a backdoor, didn’t you?”

  David smiled at the professor, and he smiled back. The man obviously admired whatever David had done. The group opened a space. Before David stepped forward, he turned to face Abdul and Adiba.

  “Allahu Akbar,” David said.

  “Allahu Akbar,” Adiba and Abdul replied simultaneously.

  Quinn studied David as he nodded to Abdul and smiled at Adiba. He recognized the expression on David’s face.

  He’d seen that expression before.

  As a police officer, more than once, his life had depended on recognizing that expression.

  David had made a decision.

  The professor stepped away from the computer keyboard, allowing David access. The technicians followed his every move.

  Quinn moved behind Abdul and Adiba and put a hand on each of their shoulders. Adiba turned to say something, but Quinn shook his head and eased them toward a large conference table set against the wall, fifteen feet from the door. Quinn smiled at the security guards, who studied him but didn’t smile back.

  “I’m beat,” Quinn said, loud enough for the guards to hear. He sat on the table, legs swinging. He patted a space next to him, and Abdul and Adiba joined him.

  Quinn spoke in a low whisper. “Abdul, what’s going on over there?”

  “David has programmed a backdoor. It’s like putting a combination lock on the computer. Only someone who knows the code can get in. David is going to pick the lock and reset the termination date on the nanobots.”

  David punched a series of keys into the computer. After a few seconds, the white-coats started applauding.

  Nazar turned, looking for them. He caught Quinn’s eye and smiled broadly. Then he put an arm around Keisha’s waist, pulled her to him, and kissed the top of her head. She leaned into him and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

  While the technicians were clapping and staring at the computer display, David opened the door to the glove box and plucked the tube of nanobots from the induction chamber.

  He unscrewed the top, faced Nazar, and raised the tube as if in a toast. “Allahu Akbar,” he said.

  Then.

  Like a man downing a shooter at a redneck bar, David tipped his head back and slid the contents of the tube into his mouth.

  He dropped like a rock, screaming and writhing, onto the floor. The professor knelt beside him. “David, what’s wrong?”

  The technicians, Nazar, and Keisha looked on. It took a few seconds before the group understood what had happened. The professor jerked upright. David had stopped moving, and his head was melting like a block of butter in a hot pan. Already, half his skull was missing. Orange liquid pooled on the floor around his body as if he were bleeding out, except it wasn’t blood.

  The liquid spread quickly across the floor. The white-coats began hopping, like cowboys in a western movie, dancing while a drunk shoots bullets at their feet.

  The professor grabbed his left knee, screamed and stumbled sideways as if he had been tackled; in seconds, his leg was reduced to a stump. The liquid pooled at the technicians' feet. They ran for the door. One by one, they fell as their feet and legs were devoured by nanobots and turned to orange ethanol solution.

  Nazar, standing furthest from the group, climbed on the computer table and pulled Keisha up after him.

  “The flask. Get me the flask!” Nazar screamed at his assistant and pointed at the empty thermos flask inside the glove box affixed to the table next to theirs.

  Keisha clambered across the table. The box's door faced away from her, so she lay on top, swung her arms over the front, and reached through the opening.

  “Hold my feet, I can’t reach.”

  Nazar grabbed her legs. She slid forward, bent at the waist over the edge of the box, and grasped the flask. He pulled her back and she held the prize high.

  “The liquid contains unlocked nanobots.” Nazar pointed to the orange puddle on the floor below them where David had stood a few moments before; a glass test tube was all that remained of the young man. The liquid pooled under and around the front of Nazar’s table. The nanobots were consuming the vinyl floor tiles, spreading fast,

  “Scoop some into the flask. We only need a small amount. I’ll hold your legs.” Nazar slid to the far side of the table and braced himself. Keisha, flask in hand, lay on her belly, stretching toward the liquid while Nazar anchored her feet. She touched the open mouth of the flask to the floor and scooped in liquid.

  Nanobots reached the front legs of Nazar’s table. They began to disassemble the carbon compounds in the steel, and the table tilted and sank to floor. Keisha, flask in hand, slipped forward, dragging Nazar with her. He released her feet and scrambled to the rear of the table saving himself.

  As she fell headfirst off the table, Keisha looked in disbelief at her mentor, who had sacrificed her life for his. She landed head-first in the pool of nanobots and emitted a chilling, high-pitched squeal, which lasted only a few seconds before her face and mouth were no longer sufficiently formed to sustain the sound.

  Nazar balanced on the edge of the tipping table, but the nanobots had reached the rear legs and the table wobbled. He slid down the tabletop toward the spreading pool of deadly orange liquid and leaped at the last moment onto what was left of Keisha’s back. Then, using his loyal assistant as a stepping-stone, he jumped clear of the liquid.

  Abdul tightened his grip on Adiba, who glared at Nazar as he stood at the center of the lab scanning the floor, searching for a pathway to the door.

  Everything in lab was tipping, falling, melting, like a waking nightmare. Quinn shouted, “Abdul!” and pointed to the exit. The security guards had gone and closed the door behind them. One of the lab technicians had almost escaped. A pool of orange liquid marked where he had fallen, and it blocked their path to the door. A rapacious monster waited for something or someone to feed on.

  Quinn pulled at Abdul’s arm. “The table. Slide the table. We’ll climb along and jump through the doorway.”

  The conference table was twenty feet long with a polished oak top. He and
Abdul braced against the narrow edge, and Adiba jammed in beside them. They pushed, and the table screeched and jerked across the floor until it reached the door.

  Abdul clambered up, slid along, and grabbed the door handle, but they’d overshot and table had jammed the door shut. “Pull back!”

  Quinn looked behind. The nanobots fed on chairs, tables and equipment, transforming them into more liquid, adding to the spreading orange pool that moved toward him, an incoming tide pushing up the beach. He grabbed Adiba and threw her onto the table.

  The table juddered and tipped as the far end, beneath Abdul, dropped two inches. Adiba lost her balance and Abdul grabbed her just before she toppled off. Her eyes remained fixed on Nazar, who had picked his way across the lab and stood close to the center of the table, focused on the pool of liquid swelling behind Quinn’s feet.

  Quinn pulled with every ounce of every muscle in his body. The table moved, but slower with Abdul and Adiba on top.

  “Two more inches!” Abdul screamed.

  Quinn yanked again. The deadly liquid pooled six inches behind his feet.

  Abdul opened the door.

  “That’s it. Climb up!”

  The table legs nearest the door sunk lower as Adiba grabbed Quinn by the back of his shirt, and he slid and wriggled his belly onto the sloping tabletop, panting and gasping like a landed fish.

  Adiba screamed and pointed. “Your shoes!”

  Quinn’s legs still hung off the end of the table, and orange liquid dripped from the melting soles and splashed to the floor. “Ahhh!” he screamed. A primal sound, born of terror.

  Quinn flipped off his shoes, then tore off his socks, threw them down, and turned on his back with arms and legs held high, like an upturned beetle.

  For a few seconds, he stopped breathing and stared at his feet, waiting for them to melt.

  Then he shouted in a voice tinged with hysteria. “I’m okay . . . I’m okay. Let’s go!”

  Abdul jumped through the doorway. Adiba pushed Quinn ahead of her. “You next, Mr. Quinn. I’m lighter. I can jump farther.”

  He didn’t argue. She was right. He had more than a hundred pounds on her. The liquid pooled in the doorway and that end of the table had sunk eighteen inches. He crouched low then sprang like a frog through the door. He cleared the orange by two feet and grunted as he landed.

  Then he heard a fierce, hate-filled scream from behind him that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He turned in time to see Adiba, balanced on the crooked table, slam into Nazar, who had slunk up behind her.

  The nanobots pooling in the doorway prevented Abdul from reaching her. The table jerked and the movement unbalanced Adiba. She grabbed the doorframe for support. Nazar, disoriented by her blow, staggered backward. When he grabbed for her, she pulled away.

  Abdul shouted, “Adiba, jump. Now. Leave him. Jump!”

  She stood on the sinking, rocking table, her back to them and feet braced wide apart, knuckles white with their grip on the doorframe. Nazar teetered on the far edge, only twelve inches above the orange floor. His arms whirled as he tried to regain his balance.

  Nazar pleaded with her. “Help me!”

  The table jerked lower, forcing Nazar to step back off the table onto the floor. The liquid sizzled as it welcomed new feedstock. His legs buckled and he stumbled to his knees, screaming as he was eaten alive from the bottom up. Hands high, reaching, he shrieked at Adiba. “Pull me up. Save me!”

  She stood above him, unmoving, and watched as the nanobots devoured his legs, then his pelvis. His body stayed erect as it melted into the floor. The screams were terrible, loud, and desperate.

  They stopped when the liquid reached his rib cage and the nanobots disassembled his lungs. His mouth, though, remained stretched open and distorted in a silent scream. As his chest disappeared, he put down his hands to steady himself. They too turned to liquid, and finally, his head toppled, and his eyes turned to glass. Only then did Adiba turn away.

  Abdul’s eyes locked on the end of the table. The legs sank under the liquid, and orange foam boiled as the nanobots reached the tabletop. The pool of liquid oozed through the doorway, forcing Abdul to retreat until the distance to Adiba had grown to seven feet.

  Too far.

  Adiba scanned the liquid moat, and her hand came to her mouth. A squeal of fear escaped her fingers. As the nanobots marched up the tabletop toward her, she shuffled her feet away from the end. The stump of the tabletop was a shiny raft in an ocean of orange.

  Abdul stared into her eyes, reading the terror but unable to take it away. As the liquid advanced, Adiba stepped along the table and more of her body became hidden by the wall. Soon, only her beautiful face remained visible. One more step and she would be out of sight, just another morsel of feedstock for the rapacious machines. Blood pulsed in Abdul’s ears. His stomach churned. He was going to lose her. He moved as close the edge of the liquid as he dared. He wanted to run across and save her. Maybe if he went fast?

  Quinn screamed from behind him. “Move!”

  Abdul turned and leaped to the side, flattening against the wall as a golf cart roared past him and skidded to a halt inches from the doorframe. The liquid sizzled as it sucked in the rubber of the tires, and the cart rocked wildly as, one by one, they deflated.

  Quinn shouted, “Adiba. Climb in. Hurry!”

  She grabbed the roof supports, climbed on the cart’s nose and swung through the open windshield. Once she was onboard, Quinn reversed, but the cart slewed from side to side unable to gain traction. He stopped driving and slammed on the emergency brake.

  “Go. Go!” He pointed frantically to the rear. She clambered over the seat, onto the back bumper and leaped into Abdul’s waiting arms.

  The golf cart fueled the pool, and the liquid expanded farther into the hallway. For the second time in as many minutes, Abdul thought he might lose someone dear to him. “Hurry, Quinn!”

  Quinn followed Adiba’s route. He perched on the rear bumper and stared at the five feet of liquid he had to traverse to reach safety. He crouched low, allowed his body to tip forward, and pushed his legs like pistons, launching himself across the deadly pool. Abdul grabbed the big man’s shirt before he landed and yanked him backward, adding an extra foot to his leap. Abdul thudded to the ground with Quinn full on top. Sparks flickered across his eyes and pain seared through the back of his neck.

  Quinn rolled off him and Adiba grabbed Abdul’s cheeks in her hands.

  “Abdul, are you okay?”

  “I am now.” He studied her face. She had risked her life to watch Nazar die in agony. Abdul tried to read her eyes. Not pity or fear or disgust, but something else. Vindication, perhaps.

  “Come on,” Quinn said. “There’s another cart outside. But we have a problem.” He led them down the hallway and they burst through the doors into the open. Abdul didn’t remember ever feeling so grateful to breathe fresh air.

  Chapter 38

  A two-seater golf buggy sat near the entrance. The larger one they had used earlier was three hundred feet away, next to the helicopter, and the two security guards stood beside it. Quinn jumped into the cart and shouted, “Adiba, get in. Abdul, hang on the back.” He slammed his foot on the accelerator and Abdul grabbed the cart’s roof supports just in time.

  Quinn screamed at the cart, “Come on! Come on!”

  The guards were in front of the cockpit, waving their arms at Sam. Quinn was still two hundred feet away when they climbed into the chopper and Sam fired up the engine.

  Abdul, standing on the rear bumper so his head poked over the cart roof, waved his free hand, screaming, “Wait! Wait for us!”

  Sam, head lowered, eyes on the controls, focused on his takeoff procedure. The rotors began their first lazy turns. Quinn pulled the Glock from his jacket and fired into the air. Sam had his headphones on, and didn’t react, but the guards’ heads snapped around. They stared at Quinn, but made no attempt to signal the pilot.

  Quinn muttered under his breath, “Mo
therfuckers.”

  The rotors gathered speed. Quinn drove straight up to the front of the helicopter’s glass bubble, slammed on the brakes, jumped out, and screamed when his bare feet hit the hot concrete. He adopted a shooting stance, legs braced, Glock held two-handed and pointing directly at Sam’s face. The pilot lifted his head, and his eyes went wide. The machine rocked as the blades took its weight. The downdraft thrashed Quinn’s face with sand and grit. He didn’t falter. He didn’t blink.

  “Down.” He mouthed the word at the pilot and insinuated with the barrel of the gun. The guard riding shotgun was screaming at Sam. The machine lifted off the ground, three feet, four, five. Quinn shifted his aim and fired a single shot into the upper part of the chopper’s glass bubble. The guards ducked and a two-foot diameter star appeared in the cockpit glass. He moved the gun back in line with the pilot’s face.

  “Down! Now!” He knew Sam couldn’t hear, but Quinn’s message was clear. If he and his friends didn’t get away on the chopper, no one would. Sam shouted into his mic, and the guard in the passenger seat shook his head and screamed back at him.

  The machine began to descend. Quinn, with a slow, exaggerated nodding of his head, indicated his approval, but he kept the gun locked on the pilot’s face.

  “Abdul,” he shouted, eyes still fixed on the cockpit. “Tell that fat-fuck guard in front to get out.”

  Abdul jumped from the back of the cart, ran to the helicopter, and yanked open the door.

  There was a gunshot, and Abdul dropped like a rock. The guard swung his pistol toward the front. Quinn put four slugs into him before the man’s gun was halfway through its arc: two in the chest and two in the head. The plastic bubble splintered into huge, crazy spider webs where the bullets penetrated, then the screen turned red, as blood exploded from the guard’s face.

  “Abdul!” Adiba ran past Quinn and dropped to her knees, covering her fallen sweetheart—a lioness protecting her cub. Quinn raced around her to get eyes on the second guard. A hand reached out from the rear seat and threw a gun to the ground.