“She’s got more guards—”
“Lawford and Hill,” Mala supplied.
“And she’s getting ready to launch,” Keen finished. “Where are the rest of the drones?”
“I think they scattered after the Beekeeper died and the shooting started,” Mala said. “They’ll come back, and soon. We’ll have to hurry.”
“I’ll give cover. You get in there and grab her. Go!”
Without waiting for a response, Keen poked her head around the corner and fired three times. Underneath her arm, Mala scuttled into the room, diving for cover under a work table. Lawford and Hill, standing a ways from Mrs. Griffin, saw Mala and fired, but Keen shot again in their general direction, forcing them to drop low and turn their attention to her.
Mrs. Griffin typed frantically at the computer. Reddington’s flash drive was stuck into one of the ports. Some of the drones hummed to life.
Lawford and Hill fired back at Keen. She ducked away for a moment and closed her eyes, trying to remember. The two drones were holed up near a shelf of chemicals. She thought for half a moment longer, then whipped around the corner again. Taking aim for a split second, she fired again, this time at the jars above the drones’ heads.
Glass shattered. Liquids sprayed in all directions. Lawford screamed and went down, clawing at his eyes. Hill bolted away. He escaped the cascade, but smoke of some kind gushed up from the floor and table where the chemicals mixed. It created an eerie, foul-smelling fog that seeped quickly through the lab, making it difficult to see more than a few feet. Keen prayed it wasn’t poisonous.
The soft sound of humming helicopter drones drifted through the large cavern.
“A hive can only have one queen, dear,” Mrs. Griffin’s voice called through the mist. “The first always kills the second. Run!”
“I thought the younger one killed the older one.”
“Not in my hive, dear. Old age and treachery beat youth and beauty.”
Keen crouched low, ignoring the screaming pain in her back, and crawled into the room.
“You don’t need to do this, Mrs. Griffin. Those people out there are innocent. Babies. Children. They didn’t do anything to you.”
“Didn’t they?” The sound of more typing. “I pushed my husband into using the right methods for training people. I gave him the formulas for the drugs and the chemicals. But when the army learned it all came from a mere woman, they revoked his clearance and threw us off the base. They called us lunatics. They called us thieves. Thieves!”
“The army didn’t like the methods. They didn’t care about the source.” Keen crept through the room. Hill was in here somewhere, but she couldn’t see. The mist clogged her throat, tickled it and made her want to cough. She held it in. And where the hell was Mala?
“You have nothing more to say, dear,” Mrs. Griffin said. “You have only a few moments to—” She gave a screech. Glass shattered. “Get away from me, you little c—”
A shot.
Mala screamed. Her voice came from the direction of Mrs. Griffin’s computer.
Abandoning caution, Keen rushed toward the spot. The buzzing of the helicopter drones grew louder. The mist was thinning now. Mrs. Griffin was standing over Mala a few paces away with a pistol in her hand. Blood spattered Mala’s jumpsuit. Sorrow and rage thundered over Keen in equal parts. Her hands shook with both.
“You bitch!” Keen snarled, and snapped her pistol up.
A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. It was Hill. Her pistol went flying. “Gotcha!”
Keen didn’t hesitate. She stomped Hill’s instep and simultaneously elbowed behind herself, catching him in the gut. The air whooshed out of him and he doubled over. Keen shoved hard, and they both went over backward with Keen on top. Adrenaline zipped across Keen’s nerves. Hill was bigger, but the wind had been knocked out of him.
Keen felt around and found Hill’s taser in his belt. She yanked it out, rolled over, and socked him across the bridge of the nose with it. He yelped and went limp. Keen scrambled to her feet—
—and found herself facing Mrs. Griffin’s pistol.
“I told you there can only be one queen, dear,” she said.
Keen thumbed the trigger on the taser. Nothing happened. She must have broken it when she hit Hill with it. Mrs. Griffin snorted and tightened her finger on the trigger. Then she convulsed, dropped the pistol, and fell twitching to the floor. Two little barbed darts were stuck in the back of her dress, trailing silver wires across the floor to Stuart Ivy, who held a taser in his hand.
“Horrible woman,” he said. “Reddington got Benjamin, but I got her, at least.”
“Stuart?” Keen tossed the broken taser aside. “What are you doing here?”
The mist had entirely cleared by now, and all the drones were hovering three feet above the cavern floor. Stuart gave a small smile.
“Sorry I didn’t arrive earlier. I was delayed. I’m actually a bit disappointed.” He reeled in the darts.
“I don’t understand,” Keen said.
“That you actually thought I had betrayed you all and joined the Hive,” he clarified. “Really! It takes a con man to con a con man, I suppose, but I never expected it would fool the likes of you. FBI indeed!”
“Uh… sorry.”
“I was waiting for the right time to strike. I knew from the beginning he was the weapons dealer who had murdered my Vivian. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to sit next to him in that damned Circle. But I had no idea that Reddington also knew.” He grimaced and pointed to Mrs. Griffin’s unconscious form. “At least I got her.”
“Congratulations, Stuart,” Reddington said from the tunnel mouth. “You won the consolation prize.”
“Red.” Stuart looked like he would have tipped his hat, if he’d been wearing one. “I can’t describe how it feels to see you right now.”
“This isn’t the time, boys,” Keen said.
The helicopter drones were still hovering at the cavern’s exit, waiting for a final command, and no doubt the scattered Hive drones would return soon—two situations that needed immediate attention. But Mala was bleeding on the floor. Keen knelt next to her. She was still breathing, and the wound in her arm looked superficial. Keen found a first aid kit—the lab was well supplied—and tore open a bandage.
“Is Ressler all right?” she asked while she worked.
“We dispatched the drones who came at us and now he and Dembe are standing guard at the nicely provisioned weapons dump,” Reddington said. “And I all but stumbled over Aram and that very large man in the hallway on my way in here. No sign of Mr. Cooper so far. I have to say I’m disappointed with his timing.”
“Stuart, can you shut down the drones?” Keen pressed the bandage into Mala’s shoulder. Mala’s eyes fluttered open. The pain had stirred her.
“I’m not dead,” she said in surprise.
“You’re a hero,” Keen told her with a smile. “We have to get you out of here.”
“I’m an orangutan when it comes to computers,” Stuart said at the terminal. “I don’t even understand what I’m looking at here.”
“Unfortunately for all of us,” Reddington continued as if no one else had spoken, “I believe the human drones who scattered at your inspired example of apiarian marksmanship will return soon, a number of them through that very doorway.” He gestured at the great opening beyond the hovering drones. “We should evacuate.”
Stuart left the computer and strode toward Reddington. “You knew. All this time, you knew.”
“So did you,” Reddington accused. “Vivian’s death was mine to avenge, not yours, Stuart. You were the one who let her die.”
“Perhaps we should be angry at the Griffins,” Stuart said. “Always put the blame where it belongs.”
“Another of your aphorisms?” Reddington scoffed.
Stuart crossed his arms. “Without me, you’d be a very different man, Red.”
“You let Vivian die!” Reddington almost shouted.
Mala screamed and pointed. Keen whirled.
Mrs. Griffin was awake. She hauled herself up to the keyboard and slapped a key. An alarm sounded, and the helicopter drones whirled in unison. They fled out the cavern exit and buzzed away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Reddington watched the drones buzz away with enough payload to wipe out a city. He schooled his features into a bland, calm expression despite the tension that torqued his gut.
“What have you done?” Lizzie gasped.
“They’ll deliver the payload, dear.” And the horrible woman slapped another computer key.
An alarm rang through the cavern.
A red anger descended over Reddington. His fingers twitched. If her neck had been between them, the old bat would have been dead, and not just for her role in Vivian’s death. She was responsible for causing Lizzie pain. That was something Reddington could not forgive anyone for—not Benjamin Griffin, not his wife.
Not himself.
“More sarin will flood this room in five minutes,” Mrs. Griffin finished. Then she snatched the flash drive from the computer and snapped it in two.
“Why?” The horror was writ plain on Lizzie’s face. No matter how many terrible things she faced as an FBI agent, no matter how many awful things Reddington brought into her life, she still managed to be shocked at the dreadful deeds of other people. It was one of the things he loved most about her. He put his hand into his breast pocket.
“My husband is dead,” Mrs. Griffin said. “I have nothing more to lose.”
Three shots rang through the chem lab. Mrs. Griffin jerked under three red wounds that opened up across her chest. She dropped without another word.
“You had more to lose than you knew,” Reddington said across his pistol.
The computer screen flickered into countdown mode.
4:40.45.
Keen leaped for the computer, ignoring Mrs. Griffin’s body under her feet. Desperately she clacked at the keys. She could get other programs to respond, but not the one controlling the drone or the countdown. A small dialog window popped up.
PLEASE INSERT KEY.
“We can’t do anything without the key,” Keen called to Reddington and Stuart. “But Mrs. Griffin destroyed it.”
4:01.54.
Shouts came outside the cavern. Foolish Hive drones returning to the caves, likely covered with bee stings and extremely unhappy. Reddington was fairly certain they also wouldn’t take kindly to finding Mrs. Griffin dead.
“You have yours, don’t you?” Reddington said. “Give it to me.”
Her hand shot to her pocket. “No. I’ll use it.”
“Do you know how?” Reddington asked reasonably. “Aram showed me but he’s hardly in a position to show you.”
Lizzie glared at him, then handed over her key. “Hurry up, damn it!”
“First, you run, Lizzie,” Reddington said gently. “Get the others out of here. Get yourself to safety.”
“But—”
Reddington kept his face implacable. Always play for the win. “You know I’m right. I won’t plug this in until you leave.”
3:50.36.
Lizzie blew out a heavy sigh.
“All right. But…” And here her voice choked a little, which gladdened Reddington’s heart. “Don’t you get yourself killed.”
“I shall stay to guard Reddington.” Stuart grabbed Hill’s pistol.
Reddington set his jaw. The mistrust ate at him like a crocodile chewing his liver. Even after all this time, he couldn’t bring himself to trust Stuart. Vivian had been so kind to him. Her memory was a daffodil blooming in desert sand. Stuart had poisoned it, revealed himself as selfish, just like the people he worked with.
And that was the heart of the matter, wasn’t it? Stuart had proved himself just as selfish as everyone else. Every person in the world was motivated by self-interest. Everyone cared about themselves first. That was the real lesson Stuart had taught Reddington that black day. It wasn’t until Lizzie came along that Reddington had thought otherwise, that some people might truly be unselfish. It had been a long set of years in between.
“Go with Lizzie, Stuart,” Reddington said. “Make sure the others get out. Including you. That’s what you want, after all. I can talk my way past these poor, foolish Hive drones, and I do have a pistol for when words fail.”
“They outnumber you, Red,” Stuart said. “You’ll die. I’m staying to—”
“Betray me? You go, or I don’t plug this key in,” Reddington said. Play to win. “Leave, Stuart. Now.”
Stuart worked his jaw back and forth. The shouts outside grew louder. Reddington could discern individual voices. His heart was racing now.
Lizzie snatched up Mrs. Griffin’s pistol, and helped Mala to her feet.
“Hurry!” she said.
3:12.82.
At last, Stuart nodded. He helped Lizzie with Mala. They hobbled toward the main caverns. Reddington waited until they were at the mouth of the tunnel before he plugged the Beekeeper’s flash drive into the computer.
2:40.75.
The countdown shrank to a smaller window to one side. Reddington saw an icon labeled JAMMER. He clicked on it, and to his relief found a toggle for shutting it off. Suddenly, the helicopter drone program popped up, showing dozens of little dots moving across a map. They were closing in on the town of Roebuck. The old bat must have decided to attack civilians after all. A last stab from the grave. One drone, however, was showing at Reddington’s location. It must be hidden somewhere in the lab. That must be how the sarin was going to be released into the caverns. Reddington slid the mouse toward the program to shut off the sarin.
2:02.96.
“Hey! You at the computer!” A Hive drone at the outside entrance leveled a pistol at Reddington across the lab. Five other drones were with him. “Hands up!”
Reddington slowly put his hands up.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I’m sure we can find common ground for an arrangement.”
The shooting began.
1:57.66.
* * *
Keen and Stuart staggered down the tunnel with Mala. They rounded the curve and came across Aram sitting on the floor with the still-unconscious Pug.
“We have to get out of here,” Keen panted. “The whole area will be flooded with sarin gas in about two minutes.”
“There should be gas masks all over the place,” Aram said.
“Pug has one,” Mala reported. “I have another. Everyone’s wearing the rest. Where are yours?”
“We dropped them,” Keen said tersely.
“How will we get your friend here out?” Stuart asked. “His left leg appears to be broken and his right has a bandage on it.”
Pug groaned and sat up. “Mrs. Griffin?”
Mala drew away. Aram tried to, and sucked his teeth when his broken leg shifted.
Inspiration struck Keen. “Pug, listen to me.” She put every bit of authority she could muster into her voice. She spoke like a strict mother, like a severe teacher, like a knowing doctor. “I’ve just spoken with Mrs. Griffin. She had to go away. I’m in charge now. You must do as I say.”
“You,” Pug said.
“A hive only has one queen,” Keen said. “First it was your mother. Then it was Mrs. Griffin. Now it’s me. Are you ready for your first orders from the new queen, Pug?”
Pug stared at her for a long moment. Aram started to speak, but Keen shushed him with a small gesture and kept her face regal.
“Okay,” Pug said. “What do I do?”
“Carry Aram here out of the main cave. Take Mala with you. Don’t let anyone hurt them.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the chem lab. God, what was happening to Reddington?
Pug nodded once
, firmly.
“Okay.” He picked up Aram, who yelped when the motion jostled his leg. “Follow me, Mala. I will not let anyone hurt you.”
“What about you?” Mala said to Keen.
“I’m going back to help Reddington,” she said.
“What about me?” Stuart said.
Keen looked at him. “What about you?” She kept her queen’s severity. “What are you going to do? You have Vivian’s memory to keep you company.”
Stuart looked stricken, lost. “I…”
Shots rang from the chem lab. Keen bolted toward them without another word, leaving Stuart behind.
When she arrived at the entrance to the lab, she saw Reddington hunkered down behind a fallen stone table while nearly half a dozen drones fired on him from the main entrance. Two of them moved closer in, running a few steps forward to kneel and fire again. Reddington could only pop up and fire back without aiming, so his shots went wide. Glass jars shattered all around the lab. The cracks and pops of pistol fire echoed harsh and loud against the unyielding rock.
“Reddington!” Keen shouted, and fired into the room. One of the five drones went down. The others turned their attention on her and fired back. Keen ducked around the corner as bullets pinged and pocked. She whipped into the room and fired again, three times, then yanked herself back out.
“There’s a lot more of us out here!” she barked around the corner. “Give it up!”
“Liar!” someone shouted back, and shot twice more toward her.
“We have forty-five seconds, Elizabeth!” Reddington shouted. “I’ve been trying to tell our friends about the gas, but—”
More gunfire erupted.
Keen checked her pistol and grimaced. Only a few bullets left. If she didn’t do something, and quickly, an entire town was going to die—starting with everyone in these caverns. She might have to make a run for it and hope. This wasn’t the way she’d figured on dying. On the other hand, she’d never figured on dying at all. She traced the scar on her wrist one more time—up the Y, down into the valley, back out of it, and down the other side—made three quick puffs of air, then rolled into the room toward Reddington, firing as she went.
The Blacklist--The Beekeeper No. 159 Page 26