The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3

by Nathan M. Farrugia

  ‘OSS emblem?’ Sophia said.

  DC shook his head. ‘It was a golden spearhead, and then it was a snake and thirteen stars. This looks like the Chinese Commando para wings, except there’s no parachute. Just a giant creepy eye.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the Fifth Column emblem?’ Sophia said, grinning.

  DC shook his head and returned the smile. ‘I’ve never seen one,’ he said. ‘But this would be pretty close I guess.’

  ‘So, where to, Cap?’ Sophia said.

  ‘You’re the Cap, not me,’ DC said. ‘I’m au naturel.’

  ‘Sophia is fine,’ she said. ‘No Captain.’

  ‘You don’t speak Spanish?’ DC said.

  ‘That’s French.’

  ‘Oh,’ DC said. ‘Well anyway, it should be in containment on level six.’ He pointed to the moss garden below. ‘That’s level one.’

  ‘Five more below that,’ Sophia said. ‘We need to get a move on.’

  ‘I’ll lead the way—’ DC said.

  But Sophia had started down the stairs to the courtyard.

  ‘Or you can,’ he said.

  The moss in the courtyard was as tall as grass, springing back after each step. She moved into the center, eyeing the two diverging hallways ahead of them. DC walked down the stairs behind her.

  DC said, ‘Be careful walking through—’

  The ground gave way under her feet. She reached out but there was nothing to grab hold of. The entire courtyard fell beneath her. Moss, marble, plaster, debris—all of it. The heavy debris plummeted below, banging off rafters and beams. She fell after it, crashing through a plaster ceiling. It was like frozen powder, exploding under her feet the moment she landed. She kept falling. Another ceiling tore apart below, battered by chunks of marble. She scratched for the edge of the hole, but slipped through. Damp air filled her nostrils. She tried to grab a passing metal beam but it knocked her off-course, crushing the air from her lungs. She gasped. Everything spun, blurred. She drifted for the wall. Crashed into it, slid downwards. Dust and bits of debris stung her eyes. She dragged herself on the wall, slowing her fall. Hooked something. She let go so it didn’t dislocate her shoulder, but it was enough to slow her down.

  She landed stomach-first on a large plastic pipe. It was too large to grasp but she managed to sling an arm around it, hanging by her armpit. The momentum sent her swinging under the pipe. She lost her grasp and found purchase on a thin metal frame. Both hands. She held firmly, swinging like a gymnast. Plaster flakes decorated the air around her like confetti.

  ‘Sophia!’ DC yelled from high above.

  His voice echoed. She wanted to curse him for being so loud, then remembered she’d just caved in the center of the entire base and that had probably annoyed him more. But he didn’t call out again.

  She looked up to see how far she’d fallen. Just above her, a giant slab of concrete was wedged in the chasm, dragging slowly on the edges. She recognized the two wings and the giant eye in the mosaic. The courtyard’s ceiling had fallen down the chasm after her. A few protrusions in the corners of the walls of the chasm had ground its descent to a halt. She saw powder fall from the corners and realized the halt would be a temporary one. If it came free, she would be crushed underneath.

  She changed her grip on the metal frame so one hand was under and the other over. The frame started to bend. She looked around for something else. Below her was a dark chasm with bits of falling plaster and moss. She could hear chunks of heavy debris crashing below. Even if she avoided the mosaic slab, she would break her legs if she landed. She searched the walls. Plenty of things to grasp—broken outcrops of beams and pipes—but none of them anywhere near her.

  She noticed a small metal rod protruding from a cavity in the wall beside her. It was damaged, curling downwards into the shape of a hook. The majority of the rod was firmly secured in concrete and would hold her weight.

  She kept looking. There was nothing larger. The wall was sheer, flat, without texture. She was far between levels. Nothing but hard rock and concrete around her. The chasm—which might’ve originally served some sort of purpose—ran deep through the levels of the base. There was another level below her, exposed by the fallen debris. If she dropped straight down she’d fall through a big hole the debris had torn through it. But if she could swing away from the hole, she could land on firmer ground. Problem was, she had no means of doing so.

  She reconsidered the hooked metal rod. She had the two carabiners attached to the carrying handle of her ruck, just behind her neck. The carrying handle was exceptionally strong. She’d attached the carabiners to it for good reason.

  She released one hand from the metal frame. The frame groaned and she felt it drop her a few more inches. Slowly, not wanting to jerk or wrench the frame, she reached behind her head for the non-locking carabiner, the one not wrapped in paracord. Her elbow reached its limit. She was just able to grasp the carabiner. She breathed slowly, listened to the slab grind above her.

  ‘Come on,’ she whispered.

  She pressed down with her thumb and disengaged the carabiner from the carrying handle. Holding it tightly, she returned her hand to the metal frame.

  The small hooked rod was just out of reach. She had to get closer to the wall to reach it. She held the frame with both hands and shuffled carefully across to the wall. The slab above her growled and shifted some more. Powder sprinkled over her face, sticking to a layer of sweat. She reached over with one hand and hooked the carabiner onto the curled rod.

  The carabiner clasped.

  Engaged.

  The slab crashed through.

  She let go of the frame. Fell through the chasm.

  The paracord unspooled from her ruck. She didn’t look up, but she could hear the slab roar from above. It was heavier than her, gained fast. She dropped towards the next level. She hoped the paracord had enough length.

  The paracord drew taut.

  Her descent stopped suddenly, her ruck pulling hard on her shoulders. She hung from the carabiner, dangling chest-down. Her armpits had kept her from slipping out of the ruck. The slab bore down on her.

  Her sudden halt sent her into a fast swing under the falling slab. She saw the edge of the hole come rushing towards her. Firm ground. She reached out. The swing carried her through onto the debris-coated floor.

  The slab fell behind her, through the chasm. She heard it grind, tip sideways and fall quicker. Her paracord drew taut. Hurled her across the floor. She slid back towards the chasm. The slab must’ve snagged the other carabiner. The speed and force of it pulling her was too great to wriggle out of the ruck’s shoulder straps. She was strapped in for the ride.

  Her hand moved for the knife on her belt. The paracord tossed her onto one side, tearing at her jacket. She reached up and pulled the carabiner hard, lifting the paracord off the ground. She brought her knife under it and sliced.

  The paracord frayed.

  She kept working on it, her knife lacking a serrated edge. The edge of the chasm came up fast. She slashed the paracord again.

  Half cut.

  The edge of the hole came rushing to meet her. She slashed again.

  The paracord severed.

  She came to a sudden stop, dangling half over the edge. Knife in hand, she looked down into the darkness and saw the mosaic slab disappear. She tried to catch her breath. She heard the slab hit water.

  Then she also heard debris shift behind her. She looked back to find a pistol aimed precisely at her head.

  The operative wore a cherry-red leather jacket and a belt with enough room to slip a pistol down her jeans. Sophia recognized her as the operative from the museum who had been abducted by those masked Blue Berets. Denton had obviously gotten her back when he raided the Waldorf Astoria.

  ‘Hi,’ Sophia said. ‘You’re Czarina, right?’

  Without a word, the operative tossed her a single ribbon of plasticuffs.

  Sophia discarded her knife. ‘How romantic.’

  *
/>   Denton watched with interest as the operative instructed Sophia to kneel at the entrance of the debris-strewn laboratory.

  ‘I like what you’ve done with your face,’ Denton said. ‘It’s very … grim.’

  Sophia had almost forgotten the half sugar skull the Mexican demon lady had painted on her face. Despite her unceremonious fall through the chasm, the face paint hadn’t rubbed off.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Denton said.

  ‘I stopped for a hot dog,’ Sophia said.

  ‘I wore my favorite suit,’ he said.

  He seemed pleased to see her, and that bothered her. Perhaps it was because he was wearing a suit. Behind him, his small team of scientists stood by their equipment, waiting for his orders.

  ‘You’re really running low on friends these days,’ he said. ‘Would you like to borrow some of mine? Czarina perhaps?’ He gestured to the operative in the red jacket.

  With her Cleopatra haircut and cherry-red lipstick, Czarina looked Sri Lankan. She watched Sophia with indifference, unconcerned that she was still wearing her ruck.

  ‘It’s a shame you didn’t bring that meteorite with you,’ Denton said. ‘Didn’t I say BYO on my invitation?’

  Denton gave no order to Czarina to strip Sophia of her weapons. He was already inspecting her Glock. He weighed it in his hand, removed the magazine and cleared the chamber. She watched him catch the round and feed it back into the magazine. Then he handed both the Glock and the magazine to Czarina, who passed them over to a Blue Beret. The Blue Beret stored the magazine in a pouch on his vest and shoved the Glock into a larger pouch on his belt.

  ‘You know, since you won’t be needing it,’ Denton said.

  She kept an eye on it. It was the only weapon in the room she could fire—everything else was fingerprint protected. Even the electroshock pistol Denton brandished. It was a slightly improved version of the more commonplace Taser electroshock pistol, except this one could retract its barbs from one target and engage a new target immediately.

  Denton checked the cartridge and fired it into Sophia’s neck. She felt the dart-like probes break her skin. She waited for the electric current but it never came.

  ‘Compliance purposes,’ Denton said. ‘I’m sure you understand.’ He looked down at the plasticuffed hands in her lap. ‘We both know you can break your restraints in seconds. This is just a little stimulation.’

  He squeezed the trigger and the charge whipped through her. She fell on her side, legs frozen and arms pulling into her chest. She almost punched herself in the face. Then the current stopped.

  Denton frowned, but only for a moment. ‘You’re not alone,’ he said. ‘Who is with you?’

  ‘No one,’ she whispered, lying on the floor. ‘Unfortunately.’

  She hoped somewhere nearby DC was preparing some sort of distraction, or destruction. Either would be good. As long as she wasn’t caught in the crossfire. Or blast radius, depending on what he had in mind.

  Denton handed the electroshock pistol off to Czarina, keeping the wires connected to her. He stepped closer, but not close enough. The problem with being captured by Denton and his operatives was they were too smart to get within range. Once she was their captive, it was over. And the longer she remained their captive the more her chance of escape evaporated.

  But she had DC.

  Or did she? She couldn’t trust him completely.

  Denton stood as close as he would dare. He feigned confidence, but she could feel a ripple of anxiety underneath. He had a lot on his plate today, she could tell.

  Denton’s face was cold for a moment, then a slight smile emerged.

  ‘DC,’ he said. ‘Now that’s interesting.’

  Sophia felt her insides chill. She hadn’t let anything slip. How did he know?

  ‘What makes you think that?’ she said.

  Denton didn’t answer. He retreated to a moss-coated table scattered with equipment his scientists had piled on top. It looked like the sort of apparatus he could use to isolate and extract the Phoenix virus. She felt a growing certainty build inside her—she was too late.

  ‘You can sit back up now,’ Denton said.

  ‘You’re too kind,’ Sophia said.

  ‘He’s not working alone, you know,’ Denton said. ‘He has other friends. Friends you might not like.’

  Sophia tried to shrug. ‘That’s life,’ she said. ‘If you don’t like them, you—’

  ‘Kill them,’ Denton said. Then he smiled. ‘Or at least use them. And then kill them.’

  ‘I see you haven’t changed,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be entirely sure of that,’ he said. ‘There are some remarkable wonders of this world—and not of this world—and they change you.’

  Sophia wet her lips. She was tired, dehydrated. But she had to keep focus. She was still lying on her side. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  She knew quite well what he was doing—or at least part of it—but she was curious what he might say. More so how he would say it. And it might buy DC some time. Assuming he was even thinking of helping her. She tried not to think about that too much.

  ‘See, I don’t need you in the capacity I once did,’ Denton said, removing his suit jacket. ‘Gifts from the heavens.’

  ‘You don’t strike me as the religious type,’ she said.

  ‘When I’m God I’ll get back to you on that,’ he said, searching for somewhere to hang his jacket. ‘Do you recall your most recent social engagement with Dr Cecilia McLoughlin?’

  ‘Vividly.’

  Denton settled for hanging his jacket on the back of a steel chair. But he wiped moss from the chair first.

  ‘Well, add to the fact I essentially saved your life in the OpCenter—and it wouldn’t be the first time—McLoughlin was, as you might have noticed, desperate,’ he said. The thought seemed to bring a glow to his face. ‘For all her wiles and calculation, she didn’t understand the scope.’

  ‘She had some ambitious plans,’ Sophia said. ‘I’ll give her that.’

  Denton’s hands knotted into fists. Sophia noticed that. He relaxed them, breathing deeply through his nose.

  ‘She had pieces,’ he said. ‘One piece. Almost, anyway. Even that slipped through her fingers.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Sophia said, eyeing off the equipment on the moss table.

  Denton licked his lips. ‘Do you recall the code McLoughlin was so desperate to extract from you? The one you didn’t even have.’

  The one she’d just been discussing with DC. Owen Freeman had entrusted her with it instead of him. She’d memorized the code for the chromosomal location of the Phoenix virus. In her own DNA, it seemed.

  ‘That’s really quite amazing,’ Denton said.

  He turned on his heel and plucked a thick permanent marker from the clutter of equipment. Wiping the seat of his chair clean again, he started to write on the surface.

  ‘It just … popped in there,’ Denton said, smiling. ‘Like a giant image.’

  She watched him write.

  X Q 1 2

  He shook his head. ‘My God, can you imagine what all three Phoenix viruses will be like?’

  Sophia realized what he was writing. His hand trembled with excitement.

  X Q 1 2 X P 3 1 2

  ‘Was there a dot in there somewhere?’ Denton seemed to gaze through her. ‘Right, yes.’

  He plunged the marker onto the table, putting a dot between the number 1 and the number 2.

  Denton knew the code.

  He knew the chromosomal location of the Phoenix virus in her DNA.

  How did he know?

  Denton turned to the others in the room, ignoring Czarina. They appeared to be his personal traveling Phoenix virus development team.

  ‘This, ladies and gentlemen, is your chromosomal location.’

  Denton reached into his own pocket and grasped a small hard container, the same type of container she kept her escape and evasion items inside. Only Denton’s was for
keeping several plastic vials. Each filled with blood.

  She realized it was her blood. Samples from the Fifth Column, taken long ago.

  What had she done?

  Denton finally had what Dr Cecilia McLoughlin could not acquire. He had her blood and he had the Phoenix virus in her blood. She’d just walked right in and handed it to him.

  He’d already injected one of the Phoenix viruses, and now he had the second. She just hoped he hadn’t caught Damien and Jay.

  The gift of tongue; to hear the words unspoken.

  Denton had read the code right out of her mind. All he had to do was make her think of it and then pinch the image from her mind. All because of a goddamned electrical signal firing in her brain. Until today she hadn’t even known something or someone could receive that signal.

  ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this,’ Denton said. ‘A long time.’

  He handed one of the vials to his team so they could begin.

  She was too late.

  ‘I honestly don’t have the time to interrogate—well, torture—you,’ Denton said. ‘Which is really quite wonderful because that would take an awful long time on someone as damaged as yourself. Now we can synthesize the virus anew. Prepare a vector and give it a spin.’

  If you’re out there, DC, now might be a good time.

  STAGE 3

  BREACH

  Chapter 29

  Sophia watched Denton admire the vial in his hands. His team had finished synthesizing the virus or whatever it was they did to help Denton strip the Phoenix from her DNA. Something she scarcely knew she had until today.

  Denton attached the needle and extended his arm.

  ‘Colonel, do you want a test subject first?’ Czarina said in a low tone.

  ‘I’ll do just fine,’ he said. He pierced the basilic vein that bulged from the inside of his elbow and pushed the plunger.

  ‘Are we waiting for your third virus to arrive?’ Sophia said.

  ‘Patience,’ he said, ‘is not a virtue. But it will come, soon.’ He licked his lips. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anyone else helping you? You used to have a few buddies. Nasira?’