The Ark

THIRTY-FOUR

Through the open balcony door of the suite in the Genesis Dawn, Locke could hear the faint burble of a cigarette boat cruising past the Dodge Island cruise ship terminal. In the distance, the high rises of Miami were ablaze with lights now that the sun had set. He glanced at his watch. 7:30pm. The gala had already started a half-hour ago. No sense arriving early. Not with the impression he wanted to make.

Locke appraised his tuxedoed form in the mirror of the suite’s living room. Not bad for a scruffy engineer who’d almost been crushed to a pulp by a pile of bricks just two days ago. Someone had recovered his Glock after he’d dropped it during the truck chase. It had been a little battered, but a quick cleaning had returned it to working condition, and since Florida allowed the carrying of concealed weapons, he’d gotten a tux jacket one size too big to allow him to carry the pistol without a bulge in the suit. After that chase in Phoenix, he had a feeling he’d be needing it again, as well as his trusty Leatherman that he kept in a belt holster.

Once he had heard Sebastian Garrett’s name, Locke knew his previous employer was involved with everything that had happened. There was no doubt in his mind. Now the problem was proving it. Locke had spent the last 24 hours wondering how he was going to get the proof, with no success. It was a lot of coincidences that added up to a hunch. No one would question the word of one of the country’s wealthiest men, even if he was the leader of a shady religious organization.

Locke knew that Garrett’s combination of wealth and self-righteousness made him a very dangerous enemy. The FBI was already searching the ship and the luggage, so Locke decided to try a different approach. If he could surprise Garrett at the gala, he might be able to throw him off balance, goading him into making a mistake or at the very least into postponing whatever he was planning for the Genesis Dawn.

For just a moment after he’d decided to come to Miami, Locke had considered leaving Dilara behind. The thought of the two of them on ship where a virulent bioweapon was about to be deployed wasn’t comforting to either of them. But when he’d seen her with that locket and realized how important it was to her to find out who was responsible for her father’s death, he knew coming without her would be impossible. She needed to get to the bottom of this even more than he did.

“How’s it going in there?” Locke asked through the bedroom door.

“Almost ready,” Dilara said. “Just a few snags getting it on. It’s a little tight.”

“Need any help?”

“I’ll let you know if I do.”

A moment later, she slid the doors apart. Locke felt his mouth drop open, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

They had made a foray out of the TEC to an upscale Phoenix clothing store, where Dilara picked out a simple black evening gown and matching high heels. Locke hadn’t seen her try it on, so he was surprised when she revealed herself. Up until this point, Locke had seen her only in work clothes, her hair in a bun or ponytail and no makeup.

Now she was utterly transformed. Her raven hair fell past her shoulders and complemented the dress, which clung to her lithe torso before it draped to the floor. The front of the dress plunged into a V, showing off the sole piece of jewelry, her father’s locket. Her soft makeup highlighted her high cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes.

She gave a slight curtsy and said, “Well?”

Locke shook off his shock. “You look absolutely stunning.”

She smiled, looking both embarrassed and flattered by the compliment. “In my line of work, I don’t get to dress up often.”

“Well, let’s show everyone what they’ve been missing,” he said. He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

With the heels, she stood almost as tall as Locke. She took his arm and looked directly in his eyes, transfixing him. “I have to say that I never expected an engineer who looked so dashing in a tux.”

“Maybe I should wear one more often.”

“I think you should,” she said appreciatively. Then her voice turned businesslike. “Now let’s go see if we can get some answers.”

They exited the cabin onto a hallway that overlooked the center mall of the Genesis Dawn. The open atrium was the length of two football fields and nine decks high. The top seven decks held cabins that lined the balconies, while the bottom two decks were crowded with shops, restaurants and bars. At one end, three glass elevators carried the passengers who didn’t want to walk the spiral ramp that wrapped around them. The bottom level, fifty feet wide, had been transformed from a walkway into a grand ballroom for the gala. Thousands of guests jammed the atrium, while white-jacketed waiters cruised through carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

Locke was already scanning, looking for Garrett.

“Do you see him?” Dilara said as they walked down the hall to the elevator.

“Not yet,” he said. “With this many people, it might take a while.”

Locke spied a blond man animatedly holding forth with a group of couples intently focused on what he was saying. Locke stopped, recognizing the arm movements from his days in Hawaii when Garrett had talked his ear off about sin and retribution. The man looked around for just a second, and Locke got a clear view of his face. He was a handsome man, his features not as soft as Locke remembered, and his hair was as perfectly styled as his five-thousand-dollar tux.

It was Sebastian Garrett. He was accompanied by a slim young woman standing by his side.

“That’s him,” Locke said, nodding at him.

He had told Dilara some of his history with Garrett on their flight over from Phoenix.

“That’s the man who killed my father?” she said.

“I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet that he’s behind all this. He’s certainly capable of it.”

“He looks so charming. It’s hard to believe he’s a mass murderer.”

“We need to be careful with him, Dilara. He’s a dangerous man. Maybe even a sociopath. But he’s extremely intelligent. If we’re going to come away with anything, we’re going to have to play it just right. Follow my lead.”

He escorted her to the elevator, and when they got to the main floor, one of the ship’s exceptionally perky cruise directors saw them entering the gala.

“Care to purchase additional tickets for the raffle?” she asked. “Because you’re a guest, you’re automatically entered to win one of the great prizes over there.” She pointed to a platform in the middle of the floor. It was piled with shiny objects: a red Mustang convertible, two Suzuki motorcycles — one red, one black — plasma TVs, computers, and myriad other electronic equipment. The keys to the car and motorcycles, each with a fob matching the vehicle’s color, were displayed in a locked glass case along with the electronics.

“You increase your chances of us handing you one of those keys at the end of the trip,” the cruise director said, “if you buy additional tickets.”

“No thanks,” Locke said and grabbed a couple of champagnes for him and Dilara from a passing waiter. It took several minutes for them to wind their way through the crowd to a position behind Garrett. Locke felt Dilara’s grip tighten on his arm.

“I think I’ve seen that woman before,” she whispered in his ear.

“The one with Garrett?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In LAX. She’s the businesswoman who dropped her purse.”

“The one who poisoned Sam Watson?”

She nodded. “Her hair was different, and I only glimpsed her for a moment, so I can’t be sure. But her profile sent me back to that moment.”

“Would you remember her voice?”

“Maybe. The woman at LAX had an accent.”

“Let me know if you recognize it.”

Locke moved them closer so they could hear the conversation. Garrett had just finished speaking, and one of the men gathered around him asked him a question.

“I understand your point,” the portly man said, “but don’t you think it’s important to balance the business perspective with protecting the environment?”

“What balance can there be?” Garrett said. He spoke with baritone that to others probably sounded stately, but that Locke found flat and chilling. “Humanity is the most rapacious, destructive creature to ever roam the earth, extinguishing more species than any other animal in the planet’s history. I admit that many individuals care deeply for what we are doing to our world, but as a whole…well, I don’t believe the devastation will stop until something drastic occurs.”

“Something drastic? Like global warming?”

“I’m afraid climate change is simply a symptom of our efforts to wipe out other species, intentional or not. It might get our attention, but it will only shift our focus momentarily. Then we will go back to eradicating everything that isn’t safeguarded in zoos. No, I imagine it would have to be more extreme.”

“And God looked upon the earth,” Locke interrupted, “and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth.” Locke had taken time on the flight to Miami to re-read the Bible’s story of Noah.

Garrett turned to see who had intruded on their conversation. Locke made sure to keep his gaze on Garrett’s eyes. For a split second, Locke could see a combination of surprise and fear contort his face. Then like the consummate actor he was, Garrett immediately regained his composure. His face went neutral before erupting into a smile.

“Tyler Locke,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a biblical scholar.” He didn’t extend his hand, and neither did Locke.

“I just dabble,” Locke said. “I’m surprised that a billionaire who can afford his own yachts would lower himself to ride on a ship with the rest of us peons.”

The other passengers watched the exchange with curiosity.

“I happen to be a major stakeholder in this cruise line,” Garrett said, “and I thought I’d lend my support for this historic occasion.”

“What occasion would that be?”

Garrett paused for a moment, then widened his smile, as if acknowledging Locke’s meaning. “Why, the sailing of the world’s largest passenger vessel, of course. On my left is Svetlana Petrova. And who would your lovely companion be?” Garrett stole a glance at her locket. He knew very well who she was.

“I’m Dilara Kenner.” With her eyes, she bored a hole into Svetlana Petrova. “Are you originally from Russia?”

“From the outskirts of Moscow,” Petrova said with a faint Slavic accent. “I moved here when I was thirteen.”

Dilara nodded. A subtle tightening of her grip told him it was the woman who had poisoned Sam Watson.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” Garrett asked.

“A little of both,” Locke replied. “The cruise line asked me to consult on some engineering plans for their next ship, and they offered me a cabin on this one as part of the deal. I thought, why not?”

“Are you staying for the entire cruise?”

“Just to New York. Forty days is too much time on board for me. What about you? What do the next forty days hold for you?”

“Oh, I’m spending the night on board, but then I must depart. I have a busy agenda.”

“What do you think about the Rex Hayden plane crash? I understand his brother was involved in your church.”

“It’s tragic for two brothers to die so young. The media has been somewhat cryptic up to this point as to the cause of the crash.”

“I’m actually involved in the investigation.”

Garrett eyes glittered malevolently. “Is that so? What have you determined?”

“I can’t talk about it. Still ongoing.”

“Of course. I know you engineers are sticklers for process. And what is your profession, Ms. Kenner?”

“I’m an archaeologist. My father got me interested. Hasad Arvadi. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. I’m something of a Noah’s Ark buff, and I came across the work of your father. Intriguing ideas, if a bit misguided. I understand he’s been missing for quite some time. A shame.” He said it with exaggerated sympathy.

Garrett was having fun playing with them. Locke could sense Dilara rising to take the bait, so he headed her off.

“So when you were talking about something drastic,” he said, “you meant the Flood. Something to wipe out humanity and start over.”

“If God were so inclined, that would be His decision. But surely you know His covenant with Noah. God said He would never again send a Flood to destroy us. The Bible was very specific. Instead, God might choose to wipe us out with a rogue asteroid or some other method that we aren’t even aware of. Such a grim outcome, in His view, might be necessary to reset all of the damage we’ve done.”

“‘To save the village, we had to destroy it,’ as they said in Vietnam.”

“Do you think humans will change their ways, Tyler? Do you really believe six billion people can make the right choice when it comes to protecting this planet?”

“If we don’t, who will? A supreme being who believes he is the only one who knows what’s right for everyone else?” Locke made sure Garrett understood that the supreme being he was talking about was Sebastian Garrett.

“If that’s what it takes, I have faith that God has chosen the best path for humanity. Now, my dear,” Garrett said to Petrova, “I am worn out from this party. I think we should take advantage of our suite amenities. Good evening, everyone. It’s been a wonderful celebration. And Tyler, if we don’t see each other again,” he said pointedly, “enjoy your cruise.”

He gave a last smile at Locke, then turned. Before he could leave, Locke leaned in and whispered in Garrett’s ear.

“You’d better pray we don’t see each other again, Sebastian. Because if we do, you’ll know you’ve failed and I’ve won.”

That finally got the smile to disappear from Garrett’s face. The fear returned for a moment, then he dismissed Locke with a sneer and walked away.

Dilara watched them leave with a look of pure hatred.

“It took everything I had not to punch that woman in the face,” she said.

“I know how you feel. But at least we know one thing.”

“What? That Garrett is a psycho?”

“No,” Locke said, “I already knew that. And I could tell by his smug expression that he thinks we’re too late. Whatever he has planned, he’s here to kick it off.”

“It won’t happen with him on the ship.”

“That’s right. He said he’s leaving before it sails. So we’ve got until the Genesis Dawn leaves port tomorrow morning. If we don’t find out what he’s planning before then, he’s going to get his doomsday scenario.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Locke and Dilara took time to eat at the gala. Locke kept one eye on his cabin door five decks up just to make sure no one entered while they were gone. He had been quiet since the conversation with Garrett, considering his next move.

What was Garrett doing here? If the incident on Rex Hayden’s airplane was related, they could be planning the same thing on this ship. With such an immense vessel, distributing the bioweapon would be much more difficult. He could use the food, which was how the norovirus that continued to regularly sicken passengers was passed along, but the industry had gotten much better at maintaining a safe food supply. Locke looked at the empty plate on his table and immediately discounted that method. Garrett wouldn’t have infected people while he was still on board.

The water system might be vulnerable, but it would require accessing the central distribution point from the desalination plant. Someone would have to get access to secure areas of the ship. It was a possibility, but risky.

The easiest method, one which Locke guessed was used on the plane, was an airborne pathogen. That meant finding a central location for inserting it into the ship’s air handling system. But Garrett couldn’t expect any device to be left alone for a significant period of time, not with the rigorous maintenance a new ship would be subject to. He’d need someplace that was guaranteed not to be disturbed…

The solution hit Locke like a two-by-four. He shot out of his seat.

“That’s it,” he said.

“That’s what?” Dilara asked.

“Garrett. He made a mistake when he told me he wasn’t staying for the cruise. Come on. I need to call Aiden and have him send something to my computer.”

The music had stopped, signaling that gala was over, and they threaded their way through the thinned crowd toward the elevator.

On his way back to the room, he called Aiden to have him to send a complete schematic for the ship, particularly the air handling system.

Locke made a quick sweep of the room to make sure it hadn’t been disturbed, and when he was satisfied, he flipped open his computer. One of the ship’s features was a wireless Internet connection throughout the vessel, so he immediately saw the email from Aiden. In the body of the email was the other piece of information he’d requested. Garrett’s cabin number.

He called up the schematics. Garrett’s cabin, a sprawling 2500-square-foot suite, was on the highest residential deck at the bow of the ship, just above the bridge. The views from the balcony spanning from one side to the other would be marvelous.

Then he overlaid Garrett’s cabin with the venting system and saw what he was expecting.

“I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?” Dilara asked.

“Until we got here, I assumed Garrett was taking the cruise since he had a suite. But then he said he was leaving in the morning before the ship sailed. It made me wonder why he would go to the trouble of booking the best cabin on the ship if he was only going to use it for one night. Look at this.”

Dilara bent over Locke, and her perfume washed over him. He tried to ignore its exhilarating effect and pointed at the screen.

“His suite is the only one right next to the main air intake for the ship,” he said. “Anything injected into the air stream would be distributed throughout the ship.”

“That’s how he’s going to infect everyone?”

“That’s my guess. He could drill a hole through his wall right into the air shaft, and no one would ever know. Even if he’s not here, he could leave instructions not to have the room disturbed. There would be no chance that the device would be shut down.”

“We should tell someone.”

“The problem will be getting access to his cabin. It’s probably guarded.”

“What about the FBI?”

“I suppose that’s an option, although they prefer to have warrants, and that’ll be hard to get with the lack of evidence we have.”

“Are you always so optimistic?”

He stood and found himself face to face with Dilara. His vision contracted to just her eyes, and he could feel her breath on his lips.

“I try to think through the alternatives. But believe me, I will get at whatever is in his cabin and stop it. Then we can find out what happened to your father.”

“I appreciate you taking all of this on. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

Before Locke realized the impulse, he swept her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Her body felt warm and firm against his own. She ran her fingers through his hair as they kissed. He ran his hands down her exquisite back…

A knock at the door interrupted them. They stepped apart, as though their parents had caught them making out on the living room couch.

Locke smiled, and then he realized why that one simple kiss was different than any other in the last two years. For the first time, he hadn’t compared the experience to Karen. He didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t feel the guilt he thought he would.

The knock came again, and this time he could hear a voice from outside.

“Dr. Locke, it’s Special Agent Perez. I need to see you.”

Wiping the lipstick from his mouth with a handkerchief, Locke went to the door and opened it. Perez walked in. He gave a lingering glance at Dilara, who was fixing her hair.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Not at all,” Locke said. “In fact, I was about to come find you.”

“Now? You’ve been here all evening, and you didn’t come tell me?”

“I didn’t have anything when I arrived, so I didn’t want to bother you. But now I do.”

“Like what? Is this about our discussion yesterday?”

Locke shook his head. “Sebastian Garrett. He’s on board. He’s behind Rex Hayden’s crash. The same kind of thing is going to happen on this ship, and I know how.”

“The billionaire?” Perez said in disbelief. “That’s great. I suppose you have evidence?”

“I have a theory. I can show it to you on my computer.”

Perez put up his hands. “That can wait. I need you to come with me. That’s why I came here. When I saw your names on the guest list, I made sure to observe you during the gala. I didn’t want to make contact there in case we were seen together, so I waited to get you until you returned to your room.”

“Where are we going?”

“We have a cabin set up downstairs where we can talk about it.”

“What’s it about?”

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about it here.”

“Okay. Come on, Dilara.”

Perez shook his head. “I’m afraid she doesn’t have the proper clearance. She’ll have to stay here.”

“She stays with me,” Locke said firmly.

“No. Only you. Now.” When Locke hesitated, Perez said, “It’s important.”

Perez’s secrecy was odd, but after a moment, Locke grudgingly nodded.

“I have a key,” he said to Dilara. “If someone knocks, don’t let them in. Call me right away, and I can get back here in 30 seconds.”

“You do look at all the alternatives, don’t you?” she said with a smile. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.”

Locke liked her spirit. She was a lot like Karen in that way. But even with the similarities, she was her own person, and that’s why his feelings were different this time.

He returned the smile and nodded.

Then Locke left with Agent Perez to find out what was so important for him to see.

Dilara saw the door close and wondered what had just happened. The kiss certainly didn’t come out of nowhere. She’d felt the attraction to Locke for a few days now. But she had just dismissed it as a crush brought on by unusual circumstances. Now she didn’t know what to make of it.

If they were going to find out what was in Garrett’s cabin, she was damn well going to help. That meant getting out of her clingy dress and into something more appropriate. The first thing was to remove her makeup, so she went into the bathroom to wash it off.

She was about to turn on the sink when she heard the faint whine of the electronic lock on the cabin door. It had been less than a minute since Locke and Perez had left. Her first thought was that Locke had come back for his computer.

“Forget something?” she yelled.

No one answered.

“It’s okay. I’m in the bathroom.”

Still no answer.

That was odd. Just a moment ago, he worried about her opening the door for strangers. Now he was creeping around the room? Dilara hadn’t known Locke long, but she knew that wasn’t his style. He would have answered her. Something was wrong.

With a jolt, she realized the answer. Someone else was in the room.

The bathroom door was ajar, but she didn’t want to take the chance that whoever was out there would see her peeking. She needed to keep the person off guard. Without a weapon, her one asset was surprise.

“I’m just changing,” she said, attempting to maintain the same tone of voice. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She removed her high heels.

She took her compact, opened it to use the small mirror inside, and backed behind the open door, which hid her from the view of the bathroom mirror. She lowered the compact mirror out of eye level and used it to see the reflection in the bathroom mirror. If she timed it right, she could make the most of her surprise advantage.

The first thing she saw was an outstretched arm holding a gun slowly advancing toward the bathroom. Then the face came into view. It was Svetlana Petrova, the woman who had killed Sam Watson.

Dilara lowered the compact and waited until the hand with the gun protruded into the bathroom. With her full weight, she slammed the door shut.

Petrova’s hand was crushed into the door frame, and she screamed. The gun clattered to the floor. Dilara rushed to pick it up, but Petrova was more resilient than she expected.

The door slammed inward, knocking Dilara backward into the shower. She bounced off the tile wall, using the momentum to launch herself at Petrova before she could reach the pistol.

She aimed her head like a battering ram and threw her shoulder into Petrova’s stomach. She heard an “oof!” of air escape from Petrova’s lungs, and she pile-drove Petrova into the bedroom floor.

While Petrova lay on the floor gasping for breath, Dilara scrambled back into the bathroom. She scooped up the pistol and pointed it at Petrova, who looked at her with an odd smile.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right here,” Dilara said.

“Because I wouldn’t like it,” said a voice to her left. She glanced in that direction and saw Sebastian Garrett aiming a gun at her. Like the one she held, it was equipped with a silencer.

“Put your gun down,” Dilara said, “or I’ll put a bullet in her brain.” She hoped she sounded determined. She’d handled guns all her life, but she’d never shot anyone before.

“Then I would have to shoot you, and I don’t think you’d like that.”

“I’m serious. I’ll do it.” And it suddenly occurred to Dilara that she would.

“You might, but that counts on me caring about Svetlana more than I care about killing you. Are you willing to take that chance?”

Dilara saw the look in Garrett’s eye and realized that he was a true sociopath. He didn’t care.

“You hesitate because you think I’ll kill you anyway,” Garrett said. “I promise you, if I wanted to shoot you, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. I am an excellent shot.”

Dilara couldn’t argue with that reasoning. Her best bet was to find out what they wanted. She dropped the gun.

Petrova took it and stood. Dilara expected a reprisal, maybe a smack in the head, but it didn’t come.

“So what now?” Dilara asked.

“Our work here is done. We’re leaving the ship, and you’re coming with us.”

That explained why they couldn’t have her bruised and bleeding. Too many questions on their way out. Petrova retrieved Dilara’s shoes from the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” Dilara said as she put on the heels.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Garrett said. “But I guarantee it will be better than being on this ship.”

She nodded. Her chance might be to alert someone to her predicament on the way out.

“And I know what you’re thinking,” Garrett said as he led her to the door. “If you try to tell anyone that you are being taken off the ship against your will, we won’t shoot you. We’ll shoot whoever you signal.”

As they walked down the corridor, Petrova kept behind her with the gun hidden under a shawl wrapped around her arm.

“I saw how you hung on to Locke’s arm during the party,” Petrova said, her voice dripping with ridicule. “You can forget about him. You’ll never see him again. He’s as good as dead.”

THIRTY-SIX

Locke and Perez took the glass elevator down to a floor two decks above the central atrium. On the way down, Locke could see crew members beginning to clean up after the gala, but passengers still wandered along the atrium and lingered at several of the bars along the sides.

They exited the elevator and started walking aft.

Locke had no idea what was so important for Perez to show him, but he couldn’t get the FBI agent to tell him.

“What are we going to do about Garrett?” he asked Perez. “We’ve only got a few hours before the Genesis Dawn sets sail.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Raid his room. If I’m right, he’s got some kind of device hooked into the ship’s ventilation system. I don’t think he’ll activate it until he’s off the ship, but if we can catch him with it, it’ll prove that he’s behind this.”

“You know, Dr. Locke, you lost a lot of credibility coming here without telling me. Why didn’t you tell me your suspicions about Sebastian Garrett when I spoke to you yesterday?”

“At the time, I didn’t know. Even after I got the information that he might be involved with building that bunker I told you about, I had no firm evidence. I wanted to talk to him myself, and I thought you might interfere if I told you I was coming.”

“You’re damned right I would have! Although Sebastian Garrett is involved with the Holy Hydronastic Church — which the FBI has been investigating for some time without finding a single crime — to accuse one the country’s richest men of involvement in this Project Whirlwind is a serious charge.”

A red light went off in Locke’s head, but he didn’t know why. Something about what Perez said was off.

“Agent Perez, you checked all of the luggage, didn’t you?”

“All of it. We found some contraband, but nothing that suggested a bioweapon.”

“And Garrett’s bags?”

“I’m telling you it was all searched.”

They reached an outdoor cabin at the end of the hallway. Locke wasn’t satisfied by Perez’s answer. Garrett had to get the device on board somehow. His luggage would be the logical method, but how would he get anything through the bag search?

Something wasn’t right. Locke put his hand on his belt and fiddled with his Leatherman.

“Have you spoken to Aiden MacKenna or Grant Westfield?” he asked.

“Don’t know them.” Perez swiped his key at the door. He let Locke walk in first.

Locke was a step in when he finally understood why the red light went off. Project Whirlwind. That was the name it had during the short time that Locke worked on it. But the name had been changed to Oasis when it was transferred to Coleman, and Project Oasis was what he called it when he talked to Perez the day before.

Only he, Dilara, Grant, and Aiden knew the connection between Whirlwind and Oasis. If Perez never heard about it from them, there was only one way he could have known about Whirlwind.

Perez was in on it.

The cabin was a two-room suite like the one he and Dilara had. If it had been some kind of control room, Locke would have expected to see agents sitting at high-tech equipment. But the living room area was empty.

All of those thoughts happened in one step. In one movement of his foot, Locke had gone from utter safety to grave danger. He kept his gait unchanged, but he couldn’t reach for his Glock, which was under his left arm. If he did, Perez would see the move before he had the gun out.

Instead, he slipped the Leatherman out of its holster and flipped open the folding knife.

“So what are we doing here?” he said. At the same time, he crouched down and whirled around. Perez had already unholstered his pistol, but instead of aiming it, he was bringing it down to pistol whip Locke.

Locke ducked aside. The pistol slammed into his bicep, and pain shot up his arm. The knife in his other hand slung around and slashed Perez’s wrist. Perez cried out, and the pistol went flying toward the door where it landed on the carpet. Locke brought his elbow around and sent a blow at Perez’s face.

Perez lurched toward the door. He crashed against it, splintering the frame, but remained standing. He looked down and saw the gun at his feet. He bent over to pick it up. Locke dropped the Leatherman and reached for his Glock. He had it aimed at Perez before the FBI agent could reach his service piece.

“Don’t move!” Locke yelled.

Perez froze, his hand inches from his weapon.

“You never said Whirlwind, did you?” Perez said. “That’s what it was called when you worked on it, so my mind reverted to that code name. I knew it was wrong as soon as I said it. Funny how one little mistake can get you.”

“Where’s your partner?” Locke demanded.

“She’s in the next room. Alive. For now.” Locke stole a quick glance at the bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Trina Harris’ inert form on the bed.

“You work for that wacko?”

“Sebastian Garrett is a great man. History will show it.”

This guy was just as loony as Garrett was.

“Stand up,” Locke said.

Perez didn’t move. “The world will soon be completely different.”

“I will shoot you if you try to pick up that gun.”

“Humanity is weak. We will make it strong again.”

“I said, stand up,” Locke repeated.

“You can’t stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“The New World.”

Like a striking cobra, Perez reached out and snatched the gun. He stood, bringing the weapon to bear. Locke had no choice. He fired a three-shot burst at Perez’s chest. Perez crashed through the weakened cabin door. The gun went flying out of his hand and over the railing. Perez slumped to the floor.

Locke rushed over to Agent Harris. She was hogtied, gagged, and moaning softly. She had a nasty bump on the side of her head.

He removed the gag and began to untie her. When he turned her to loosen the rope, her blouse came untucked, gathering up around her midsection. Beneath it was a gray material. Locke touched it and felt the hard Kevlar. A bulletproof vest.

Damn it!

He ran back to the cabin door and saw what he dreaded.

Locke saw nothing. Perez was gone.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Locke ran out to the hallway balcony. It was already filling with passengers who had heard the gunshots. An elderly woman peeked her head out from the cabin nearest to him. She gasped when she saw the gun in his hand.

“Call 911,” Locke said to her. He pointed through the door. “There is an injured FBI agent in that cabin.”

The woman slammed her door closed. Locke had no doubt police were already on their way, if not the ship’s own security team. But he had to make sure Perez did not escape, or worse, get to Garrett and warn him that Locke had survived the assassination attempt. If he did, they might not be able to recover the device in Garrett’s suite.

Locke went to the railing, looking in both directions down the hallway. No sign of Perez. He must have made it to the stairs. Locke saw Perez stumble from the stairwell into the atrium two floors below, searching for his gun. Locke quickly looked around and saw it almost directly below him. It wouldn’t take Perez long to find it either.

Locke’s nine millimeter rounds may have been unable to penetrate Perez’s vest, but they sure as hell hurt him. He could see Perez wince from the effort of running. The shots would have left massive bruises on his chest, maybe even some broken ribs. If he could get his weapon back, Locke would no longer have the advantage. Perez would never let Locke leave the ship alive. He had to get down there first.

The stairs would take too long. A pizza joint had an awning spread out in front of the restaurant to give it the feel of an outdoor cafe. It was only about 15 feet below Locke.

Shoving to the back of his mind what a bad idea it was, he holstered his pistol and jumped over the railing. He thought the awning would cushion his fall, but the material was only designed to look like fabric, when it was actually metal. The jolt of the impact knocked the breath out of Locke, and he artlessly tumbled over the side.

Gasping for breath, he crawled to the pistol and snagged it just before Perez reached it. He pointed the Sig Sauer at Perez, but Locke didn’t have enough air in his lungs to say anything. Perez ran past Locke toward the far end of the atrium.

Locke got to his knees. Perez continued to run down the atrium zigzagging as he went. Partiers still lingered after the gala, and Perez used them to shield himself from Locke.

“Stop!” Locke yelled, pointing the pistol in Perez’s direction. He hoped Perez would just stop at the threat of being shot, but he kept going, and there was no way Locke was going to take the shot, not with Perez in a bulletproof vest and so many bystanders around.

Locke would have to run him down. He got to his feet and sprinted after Perez. Once he got his wind back, he was able to gain on Perez, who was still hurting from the bullets in his vest. Locke would easily be able to stop him by the time they reached the opposite end of the atrium.

Perez looked behind him several times and saw Locke closing fast. Apparently, he knew he wasn’t going to outrun Locke because he angled toward the raffle prize platform.

Perez jumped up onto the platform and kicked through the display case, unleashing a shower of glass. He plucked out the key with the black fob and inserted it into the ignition of the black motorcycle. The engine began to sputter, and Perez threw his leg over the seat. The Suzuki fired up. The sound of its high-revving four-cylinder filled the atrium. He roared off the platform in the direction of the circular ramp surrounding the glass elevators.

Locke leaped onto the platform and retrieved the other key. Crewmembers who had rushed to find out what happened to the display case saw his gun and gave him a wide berth. Locke tucked the pistol in his waistband and kick started the Suzuki. A little different from his own Ducati, but almost as fast. It snarled in response, and he gunned the engine, laying a strip of rubber on the stand.

Perez started spiraling upwards. Locke aimed his own bike at the ramp. He could see startled passengers in the elevators watching a tuxedoed man on a Suzuki race toward them. He followed up the ramp, trying to keep an eye out to see what deck Perez exited.

They wound around the ramp at 20 miles per hour until they reached the top. Perez shot off the ramp and down the port balcony. Passengers, who by now lined the railings watching the spectacle of the chase, screamed and jumped back into their rooms as Perez roared past them toward the aft end of the ship. Locke was only 20 feet behind him.

At the end of the balcony, Perez burst through an exterior door. He was looking for another way off the ship. Locke knew from studying the Genesis Dawn deck plan that the aft gangplank was two decks down. Perez was trapped.

The trip through the door made Perez’s bike wobble, and he slowed enough for Locke to catch up. They were on the aft deck of the quarter-mile-long ship.

Perez regained his stability, and they raced side-by-side toward the back of the ship, Perez on Locke’s left, dodging sun chairs as they went. Perez tried to kick at Locke’s bike to knock it over, but he couldn’t connect.

Locke didn’t take the time to look at his speedometer, but he guessed they were now going at least 40 miles per hour, and there wasn’t much deck left. If he could get Perez to slow down and turn, he could take him down by ramming him.

They continued to charge forward, even with each other. The decking suddenly turned green, and Locke saw that they had crossed onto a miniature golf course. At the end was the deck’s aft railing and a ten-foot-tall balloon clown advertising the kid-friendly course.

Perez was concentrating on Locke, so he didn’t see the aft railing fast approaching. Locke did. He hit his brakes with full force, skidding on the artificial turf, and realized that he wasn’t going to stop in time.

He did the only thing he could. He laid the bike down, aiming for the clown, and crouched into the fetal position to protect his head.

By the time he laid the motorcycle on its side, he had slowed to less than 20 mph. The impact rattled Locke when he hit the clown, but he bounced off. The balloon reduced his momentum enough so that when he hit the railing, all it did was crunch his side. Except for some rug burns and bruises, he came to rest unscathed.

Perez wasn’t so lucky. Instead of laying his bike down, Perez tried to use the brakes. There wasn’t enough room to slow down, so he crashed into the railing, vaulting over the handlebars and out of view.

Locke heard screams from below. He rushed to the railing and looked over the side.

The aft end of this deck was not the aft end of the ship. Instead of falling to the water, Perez landed on the deck below. He lay next to the Suzuki, his neck cocked at a lethal angle.

It suddenly occurred to Locke that Perez insisted on leaving Dilara behind. In the heat of the chase, Locke had forgotten about her. Why would Perez do that, unless…

Locke sprinted back to his cabin. He launched himself into the room, his pistol drawn.

“Dilara!” he shouted. “Dilara!”

No answer. He checked both rooms, but there was no sign of her.

When he looked in the bathroom, he knew why. Someone had taken her.

There on the bathroom floor was her father’s locket.

THIRTY-EIGHT

When Locke couldn’t find Dilara in the cabin, he went back out to search for her, but when passengers recognized him as one of the people involved in the motorcycle chase, he was detained by Genesis Dawn security. The police took him into custody, and he spent two hours in a station interrogation room frantically explaining what had happened. The police weren’t convinced.

Locke thought he was about to be brought up on charges for attacking and killing an FBI agent, not to mention making a mess of the ship, when the door opened and Agent Trina Harris walked in. She still looked a little bleary.

“Leave us alone,” she said. The detectives left the room.

“Are you all right?” Locke said.

“Just a bad headache. Thanks for your help. You saved my life.”

Locke was surprised. “How did you know?”

“I just spoke to Washington. They didn’t know that Perez and I came to Miami. He was my senior, so I was following his orders to come down here. Leaving me behind would have been too suspicious. I thought we were chasing your lead, but when we got into the ship cabin, he pulled his gun on me. He tied me up. The only thing I could get out of him was that he was going to have a little fun with me before he dumped me overboard at sea.”

“I’m guessing he was going to dump me overboard as well. He didn’t shoot me because of the noise. Did you hear any of our conversation?”

“Just a little. I was pretty groggy. He pistol-whipped me once I was tied and gagged. I was coming out of it when you came in. What the hell is going on?”

Locke told her about Garrett and the device he suspected was hidden in his suite.

“If Perez was staying on board,” Harris said, “wouldn’t he have been infected by the bioweapon, too?”

“I’m sure Garrett didn’t tell him about that part. Just wanted him to get rid of you and me. Perez didn’t know he was being sacrificed for Garrett’s version of the greater good, and he probably didn’t want to believe my theory when I told him.”

“How could this happen? We do thorough background checks on every agent. If he was a member of the Holy Hydronastic Church, we should have known.”

“There’s got to be a link to Garrett.”

“We’re checking that out now, but his FBI record seems clean.” She began reading from his file. “Perez grew up in Dallas, Texas. Mother died in childbirth. Father was a Dallas detective who was injured in the line of duty and left the force. Didn’t do much after that except collect disability checks. Perez was valedictorian of his high school and was accepted to Yale on a scholarship. Majored in psychology…”

“That’s got to be it!” He looked at Perez’s graduation date. “Garrett bragged about going to Yale, and the two of them are about the same age. They must have been friends in college. We’ve only got a few more hours before the Genesis Dawn was supposed to sail. Whatever device is in Garrett’s cabin might be on a timer. We need to get in there and find it before it activates.”

“I’ve got ten agents from the Miami office on the ship.”

Locke brought up the subject that had been burning him up with worry ever since he found his cabin empty. “There’s another problem,” he said, his jaw clenched. “They’ve taken Karen.”

Harris looked confused. “Karen? Who’s Karen?”

Locke flushed. Karen? Where had that come from? “I mean Dilara,” he said quickly. “Dilara Kenner. I think she’s been kidnapped by Garrett. We have to find her.” The thought of her in Garrett’s hands made his skin crawl.

“Then we have to get into his cabin as soon as possible.”

“I need to be there.” That was nonnegotiable.

Harris paused, then nodded. “All right. Let’s go. I’ll set it up on the way.”

“No warrant this time?” Locke asked.

“In an emergency like this, we don’t need a warrant.”

Thirty minutes later, they raided Garrett’s suite. One of the FBI agents used a master key and walked in dressed like a steward. Two men inside confronted the fake steward and then were taken by surprise when the rest of the agents rushed in, capturing the guards without firing a shot. To Locke’s chagrin, neither Garrett nor Dilara were there.

He examined the room and found a metal case the size of a large valise sitting on a bureau, right where he was expecting it. A tube extended from the case into a hole that had been drilled in the wall. Locke flipped open a keypad and saw a display counting down. It would reach zero in another ten hours, three hours after the Genesis Dawn was scheduled to leave port. The case latch had a combination lock.

Locke asked one of the two guards to open the case. The guard said he’d been paid a lot of money to keep the room from being disturbed, especially the case, and that he didn’t know what was inside or how to open it.

The suitcase might be booby trapped. If Locke tried to open it, a bomb might go off or the device might activate immediately, infecting everyone in the room. He requested a hazmat team to safely encase it in an impermeable enclosure.

They put the case, tube and all, into a plastic casing that was airtight. Now if it activated, the bioweapon would be contained.

“This needs to be analyzed right away,” Locke told Agent Harris. “We need to know what we’re up against. And there are only a few labs in the country that are qualified to safely handle Level 4 biohazards.” Level 4 biohazards included the deadliest biological agents known to man, such as the Ebola and Marburg viruses. In addition to Garrett’s high-tech lab, Locke had worked on the containment facility at USAMRIID at Fort Detrick in Maryland when they had wanted to reinforce it against terrorist attacks.

“I know our facility in Miami can’t do it,” Harris said.

“The closest is the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta,” Locke said. “I have a jet at Miami airport. I can get it there in two hours.”

Agent Harris agreed only if she and one of the hazmat team members could accompany him, to which Locke gladly agreed. While they were in route, Harris would get the Bureau to begin the hunt for Garrett.

THIRTY-NINE

Dilara looked out the window of Garrett’s private jet, trying to get a sense of where they were headed, but the cloud cover and darkness below made it impossible. It had been about four hours since they had taken off. All she could tell was that they were flying vaguely west. She rubbed her wrist, which was shackled to the armrest.

When Petrova had told her Locke was dead, the pronouncement had been like a sledgehammer to Dilara’s gut. She had become attracted to this amazing man, and now he might be gone. If he were really dead — a thought that she couldn’t fully believe, not with what Locke had already survived — then she was on her own. No one was coming to rescue her. If she was to get out of this, she had to do it herself.

Garrett emerged from the forward cabin, now changed into crisp slacks and pressed shirt. He smiled and sat down across from her. He looked her up and down slowly, not bothering to hide his thorough scrutiny. She had not been allowed to change out of her dress, and his roving eye made her uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t let him see it. Instead, she had to use the opportunity to assess her situation. Thinking clearly was the only thing that was going to save her life.

“Where are you taking me?” The question was an obvious cliché, but if Garrett thought she was dumber than she was, it might loosen his tongue.

“Our facility on Orcas Island,” he responded without hesitation. “You have a beautiful voice. Of course, you’re visually striking, but your alto register is just as attractive.”

She was surprised at his candor, but she didn’t know what to make of his compliment.

“Why are you taking me there?” she asked.

“I’d think that would be clear for someone as well-educated as yourself. We need to find out what else you know.”

“Wouldn’t Agent Perez be able to tell you that?” She’d come to the conclusion that Perez had been working for Garrett. It was the only explanation for why Petrova was so confident about Locke’s death.

“Apparently, you and Tyler have not shared everything you know with Perez. There may be other items that you’ve been keeping secret. I need to know what they are.”

“I won’t…”

“And you can save your breath if you’re about to say that you’ll never talk.”

Dilara felt a stab of fear. Garrett smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t plan on torturing you. We have much more elegant and safe measures for getting information from you. You won’t have a choice.”

It had to be drugs. Maybe it would be better to start sharing now, possibly getting some information in return. Besides, she didn’t know anything that would compromise anyone else.

“You had Tyler killed.”

“Yes, that’s a shame. He was a formidable opponent. I forgave him long ago for spurning my invitation to join us, but he got too close to exposing my plans. I expect to get confirmation at any moment that, yet again, he has lost and I have won. It seems to be a pattern between us.”

“Maybe he got away from Perez,” Dilara said defiantly. “He knew about the bioweapon you planned to inject into the ship’s ventilation system. He’s probably disabled it by now.”

Garrett raised his eyebrows like he was impressed. “So Tyler figured it out? He certainly is clever. Was, I should say. Still, it doesn’t really matter.”

“What is Tyler’s connection to all this?”

“My fault, actually. I thought Tyler was the person best suited to help me construct Oasis, or what he knew as Whirlwind. Through intermediaries that assumed the roles of top-secret defense contractors, we convinced Gordian to take on the project, with Tyler to guide it. When he found out about the corners we were cutting on a project he was working on for me, I knew his curiosity would be a liability on Whirlwind. Eventually, he might have discovered a link between me and Oasis. So we fired Gordian and went with Coleman instead.”

“Look,” Dilara said, “we discovered the existence of your bunker anyway. We know what you’re planning to do. You want to wipe out the human race. And if Tyler got to your cabin, your plans are over.”

Garrett chuckled. “You didn’t really think that was the only part of my plan? I admit I liked the ceremonial aspect of starting our project using the Genesis Dawn, but it would be silly of me to put all my eggs in one basket like that, don’t you think?”

“You mean, there’s another release point?”

“Several more, actually. You were in one of them just days ago. LAX. I also have plans for New York and London.”

“When?”

“In two days, when the Genesis Dawn is en route to New York. Once all of our people are safely in the Oasis bunker, I’ll order the devices to be activated. They’re being prepped as we speak and will be shipped out tonight.”

“Sam Watson said you’re planning to kill billions.”

“I mistakenly thought Watson would be an asset to our cause, and he betrayed me.”

“That’s because Sam was a great man. He would never work on something like that.”

“Then you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Before he joined my church, he was working for the US government. I recruited him to a small subsidiary of mine, PicoMed Pharmaceuticals, where Watson thought he would be working on a germ warfare project for the Pentagon.”

Dilara was stunned. Sam had never told her much about his work, but she had assumed it was vaccine research.

“After working with him for several years,” Garrett said, “I thought he shared my goals, so I recruited him into my church. Then he found out the details of my plan and stole that knowledge, endangering everything I’d put into place. He was a fool. He didn’t see the bigger picture.”

“What picture?” She spat the words at him. “Wiping out humanity?”

“No. Humanity will go on. But it will go on the right way. As it should. And yes, billions will die, but everyone currently alive, including me, will be dead in one hundred years anyway. I’m not wiping out the human race, I’m saving it.”

“You’re crazy!”

“And you’re getting too emotional to see what I’m trying to accomplish. What if our leaders decide to start a nuclear war tomorrow? Then every single person on the planet will die, and the human race will cease to exist. Disease, environmental degradation, pollution, any one of these disasters could completely wipe us out. Even worse, humanity is on a path to destroy every other species, except the ones that are useful to it. It would repudiate Noah’s work to save animal life. I can’t allow that to happen.”

“So Noah’s Ark is involved in this? My father really did find it?”

“Oh yes. He discovered its location and a relic that has made my vision for the New World possible. I was so disappointed when I couldn’t reveal it to the world, but that would have interfered with my new vision.”

Dilara couldn’t help getting excited about the archaeological significance, even in her present situation.

“You actually saw it yourself?” She asked.

“I never went inside the Ark. It would have brought too much attention. But I know where it is, that it in fact exists, and that it holds an identical relic inside. All thanks to your father.”

She exploded out of her seat, but the handcuff kept her out of reach of Garrett. “Where is my father?” she shouted.

“That I don’t know.” For the first time, she could see that he was lying.

“My father helped you plan all this?”

“His work was instrumental in setting all this in motion. In fact, it was your friend Sam Watson who introduced us. I had confided in Watson about my search for Noah’s Ark, and he mentioned that your father was a leading authority. Hasad worked for me for two years, and then we had a breakthrough. Or he did. He wasn’t as forthcoming as I would have liked. But without that discovery, none of this would have been possible. It was a sign from God that I was to be His messenger. His instrument.”

This guy was nuts, but Locke was right. He was an incredibly smart nut. Dilara had to calm herself and hold back her disgust of him. She sat back down and smoothed her dress.

“What could a flood 6000 years ago give you that would make all this possible?” she asked mildly. “So what if a river overflowed its banks or the Black Sea filled up when the Mediterranean burst through the Bosporus, or whatever the true origin of the story was?”

“Ah, we now get to the really interesting part. You assume the Deluge was a flood of water.”

“What else could it be?”

“As much as I would like the Bible to be a literal, infallible document,” he said, “it is truly useful for its metaphor. You are thinking literally.” Garrett spoke as if he were talking to a child rather than a PhD archaeologist, but Dilara ignored the patronization.

She quoted from the Douay-Rheims Bible, Genesis chapter six. “‘Behold, I will bring the waters of a great flood upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life under heaven. All things that are in the earth shall be consumed.’ Seems pretty clear to me.”

“The key phrase is ‘to destroy all flesh,’” Garrett said. “The water was an agent of destruction, but it wasn’t the cause of death. Think about it. What have you seen lately that fits that description?”

Dilara’s mind immediately went to the wreckage of Rex Hayden’s airplane. The gleaming white bone they’d found stripped of all flesh.

“The plane crash…” she said, gasping in dawning recognition. “The passengers dissolved.”

“Exactly,” Garrett said. “Their flesh was literally consumed. That’s because the Flood wasn’t a deluge. The waters merely carried it. The Flood was a disease.”

FORTY

Three hours after leaving the Genesis Dawn with the device from Garrett’s cabin, Locke was in an observation room at the CDC. Space-suited doctors were visible on the closed-circuit cameras inside the Level 4 containment lab.

First, the tube was plugged to prevent material from being released. Then a hole was drilled in the case, and a tiny camera was snaked inside to make sure there were no explosive materials. When they were satisfied it was safe, the case was opened. As Locke suspected, the countdown timer immediately reset to zero, set off by circuitry inside the lid.

Inside the case was a complicated device. Three clear cylinders, each the size of a two-liter soda bottle, were connected to one another by metal tubing and were ringed with colors to distinguish them: red, blue, and white. The blue cylinder was connected to the external tubing.

Opening the case had started several mechanisms in the device. A clear liquid was being pumped from the white cylinder into the blue one. The red cylinder was disgorging its contents in a stream of air. The lab technicians stepped back, but whatever was being ejected didn’t seem to be affecting their safety garments.

Within seconds, the pumping into the blue cylinder stopped, and the stream of air from the red cylinder slowed to a hiss. They capped each cylinder and drew samples from all of them.

Locke had already briefed the technicians that whatever was inside was probably related to the bioweapon that had been used on Rex Hayden’s plane, so it was exceedingly lethal. He noticed that the technicians had heeded his warnings and were proceeding cautiously, although not as fast as Locke would like.

Now that the danger of explosion was over, Locke’s expertise was no longer needed. He was escorted to a waiting area while the technicians analyzed the samples. The adrenaline drain of the day’s events finally caught up with him, and Locke dozed off on a break room couch.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes popped open. He glanced at his watch. It was almost 10am Friday morning. Locke saw a slim, balding Indian man in a white lab coat hovering over him. Next to him was Special Agent Harris.

“Dr. Gavde has the test results,” Harris said. “Since you’re involved with the Hayden crash, I thought you should hear them. Remember, this is all classified, but you’re cleared for it.”

“Did you find out what the bioweapon is?” Locke asked as he stood. Harris seemed edgy. She must had heard some of this already.

“I’m afraid so,” Gavde said in a slight accent that sounded like a combination of Hindi and BBC British. “Of course, we have only done preliminary tests, but the findings are quite disturbing. This is very scary stuff we are dealing with here.”

“So is it a bacteria or virus?”

“Neither. The active agent inside those cylinders are prions. Do you know what they are?”

“Vaguely. They’re what cause mad cow disease.”

“Bovine spongiform encephalopathy is the best known disease, yes, but there are many others. Prions are not well-understood. They’re infectious agents that are composed entirely of proteins. One thing that prion diseases all have in common is that they are fatal, and this one is no different. But in other ways, it’s like no prion disease I’ve ever seen.”

“Why is that?” Locke asked.

Gavde sounded like he was in awe of it. “The way this one works is quite insidious. It attacks human cadherins, the proteins that hold together your body’s cells. However, it does nothing to animal cadherins. We tested samples of mouse, rat, and monkey cells. They remained unharmed. But human cells were attacked with vigor.”

“What happens when the cadherins are attacked?”

“All the cells in your body are bound together with these cadherins. If they break down, the cells no longer hold together, and the cells themselves burst open. The only part of the human body that wouldn’t be affected would be the skeletal system because the osseous tissue in bones is mineralized.”

Locke thought back to the pilot of Hayden’s airplane. In the transcript of his communication with LA Control, he had screamed that they were melting. But just like the Wicked Witch of the West, he had used the wrong word. They hadn’t melted. They had dissolved. Only in this case, their bones were left.

“Is there any way to stop it once you’re infected?” Locke asked.

“I asked the same thing,” Harris said.

Gavde shook his head. “Other than being fatal, the other thing this prion has in common with others is that it’s untreatable. As a byproduct of its attack on the cadherins, more prions are produced, so it’s self-sustaining.”

One part of this didn’t make sense to Locke. The prions in Hayden’s plane had reduced everyone on board to bones in a matter of hours. If the same thing happened on the ship, it would have been depopulated long before it got to New York. That would defeat the purpose of transmitting it to a widespread population.

“How fast would this stuff work?” Locke asked.

“That’s an interesting question,” Gavde said, clearly fascinated by the prion. “As you saw, there were three cylinders inside the case. When the case was opened, a valve was switched on, so that the red cylinder was emitting prions, and the blue cylinder was injected with saline from the white cylinder.”

“Salt water?”

Gavde nodded. “At first, we couldn’t figure out why. When we tried to obtain a sample from the blue and white cylinders, we could only find a few active prions. The rest had been destroyed by the saline. Under the microscope, the prions from the blue cylinder looked virtually identical to the ones in the red cylinder. But they weren’t. When we tested them, one type of prion was much faster acting than the other. A more thorough examination of the device showed why.”

The booby trap, thought Locke.

“I’m guessing the red cylinder had the prions that were faster acting,” he said.

Gavde looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“That’s how I would have designed it. If it was left alone, it would operate as intended, infecting the entire ship. If it was disturbed, whoever did it would be killed in minutes with all those prions blowing at them and infecting them.”

Gavde nodded again. “That makes sense. Whoever designed these prions was very clever. I would say that the longer-lasting prions would take days before any symptoms would manifest, allowing the disease to spread beyond any possible quarantine.”

“Designed?” Harris asked. “So you’re confirming this is man-made?”

“Because of small but specific differences in the two types of prions, I have to assume they were engineered. However, it’s very unlikely they were produced from scratch. I would guess that they started with a prion source that was similar in some ways and then biochemically altered. But I’ve never heard of a prion disease that’s even close to this. Where they found it, I don’t know.”

“Anything else, Dr. Gavde?” Harris said.

“One more interesting point. We detected trace amounts of argon, so we believe the cylinders containing the prions were sealed with the inert gas.”

“Why is that important?” Locke asked. He found the entire conversation both intriguing because of the science and nauseating because of its implications.

“The fast acting version begins to break down within minutes if it isn’t acting on a cell. It’s life span — if a prion can be said to have life — is very short. They act quickly, but must replace themselves just as quickly. Once all the human cells are robbed of their cadherins, the prions themselves dissolve. I would bet that the longer acting ones do the same, only over a longer time period. Unfortunately, we didn’t discover this fact until all of our prion samples had destroyed themselves.”

Another answer to why they hadn’t found any prions at the crash site. They had broken down long before the plane crashed. Their inherent self-destructive nature also made sense if Garrett was going to unleash these prions on an unsuspecting world and had a bunker to hide in. All he had to do was wait out the end of civilization, and eventually the prions would self-destruct, leaving the earth wiped clean of humanity for him to emerge and claim for himself.

“Can anything kill these prions before they’re released?” Locke asked.

“We did some quick tests of their durability. They don’t break down unless they are subjected to a temperature above 1500 degrees Fahrenheit. The other way, of course, is with saline. The salt is highly corrosive to them.”

“I’ve got to make some calls,” Harris said abruptly, opening her cell phone and striding down the hall.

“You were lucky to get to that device before it was used to infect that ship,” Gavde said. “I hate to think there might be more of this stuff out there.”

Locke was sure there was. The only question was where.

FORTY-ONE

“That’s ridiculous,” Dilara said, unable to control her amazement at Garrett’s assertion that the Flood was a water-borne disease. “The Flood story is a central theme of many different ancient texts.”

“And you believe that waters actually covered every mountain on earth to a depth of 15 cubits?” Garrett asked, obviously enjoying the repartee. He seemed to have forgotten that Dilara was the enemy.

“That’s just as ridiculous. There isn’t enough water on the planet.”

“Then you concede the story can’t be taken literally. If you’re ready to throw out one portion of the story, why do you adhere so vehemently to another part?”

“Floods were a common calamity in the ancient world. Most settlements were built at the water’s edge. Tsunamis, hurricanes, rivers overflowing their banks. It happened all the time. It makes sense that stories of God’s retribution would encapsulate some of these events.”

“Pestilence was also common in previous millennia,” Garrett said. “Why is it so hard to believe that Noah survived a plague?”

“The Bible is very specific,” Dilara said. “I’m quoting the King James version now. ‘And it came to pass after seven days, that the waters of the flood were upon the earth.’ It also talks about how the water covered the land. ‘And the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth; and all the high hills, that were under the whole heaven, were covered.’”

Garrett held up a finger. “The Bible also says, ‘And every living substance was destroyed which was upon the face of the ground, both man, and cattle, and the creeping things, and the fowl of the heaven; and they were destroyed from the earth; and Noah only remained alive, and they that were with him in the ark.’ That description could easily describe the effects of a plague.”

“Then why doesn’t the Bible say ‘plague’ instead of ‘flood’?”

“Who knows? Perhaps it was mistranslated long ago. Or maybe it’s because the plague seemed to stem from the flood water itself. Every beast that drank from the waters was destroyed. I know this for a fact.”

“Because you found the Ark,” Dilara said contemptuously. “That begs another question. If it was simply a plague, why did Noah build a huge ship to hold animals? It makes no sense.”

“Ah, you’re making assumptions again. And yes, I discovered where the Ark is.”

“You mean, my father discovered where the Ark is.”

“True enough. He was a brilliant man.”

Dilara noticed his use of the past tense. She’d long ago given up believing her father was alive, but the certainty with which Garrett used the past tense was nonetheless heartbreaking.

“What was the relic?” Dilara asked.

“A remnant of the plague.”

“One that remained intact for thousands of years?”

“As difficult as that is to believe, yes. Think, Dilara. Rex Hayden and his staff were reduced to skeletons. I know you saw the results. The relic from Noah’s Ark gave me the seed to start with. I simply modified it.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to kill every animal on earth. I am a biochemist by training. My company has resources that most others can only dream of. The plague from Noah’s Ark was actually a prion. It was viciously lethal, attacking all animal matter and reducing any soft tissue to its base components. With years of research, we were able to reduce its effectiveness to one species. Humans.”

“So you can be not only Noah, but God as well? You make the decision to wipe out humanity, and then you become the patriarch that repopulates it?”

“I didn’t make the decision. God did. If He didn’t, why did He allow me to find the Arkon-A? I’m simply his instrument.”

“Arkon-A is the prion from the relic?”

“That’s what I called it,” Garrett said. “Arkon-A was the original disease. Arkon-B was our unfortunate first sample that worked on humans. Too virulent. It would never have worked for my vision. It simply killed too fast to spread among the general population. That’s why I took my time and developed Arkon-C. That strain will be the one dispersed in two days.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Let’s face it, Dilara. You are not going anywhere, and being an archaeologist, you are one of the few people who can truly appreciate what I’ve done. Someday I even hope to go back and excavate Noah’s Ark myself. I could use someone of your talents in my New World. Perhaps you will accompany me.”

She choked back bile. “I’d rather die.”

“You might change your mind after our new flood has wiped the earth clean. Being one of the last women on earth may be a headier experience than you can imagine.”

She could see that he was actually attracted to her. Like most men who craved power, one woman wasn’t enough for him, no matter how beautiful Svetlana Petrova was. And with a task like repopulating the earth, why wouldn’t he want to build a harem? The thought disgusted her, but she might be able to use it to her advantage in order to escape and warn someone.

“You’re right. I guess I’ll have to see.”

“Oh, I’m not delusional, Dilara. It will take time. You’re not there yet and will probably betray me at your first chance. But with six months’ time…well, a lot will have changed by then.”

Garrett got up to leave. Dilara tried to stall him.

“Wait! This is fascinating. I want to hear more about the Ark.”

“There will be plenty of time later. We’re about to land.”

“But I’d like to know everything. If I’m going to be a partner with you, I think I deserve it.”

“I’m the only one who knows everything,” Garrett said. Then he walked into the forward cabin and shut the door, leaving Dilara to ponder her next move.

FORTY-TWO

Locke was on the Gordian jet flying back to the TEC in Phoenix, but he wasn’t piloting this time. He had too much work to do.

His first order of business was to arrange with the FBI a ruse to put Garrett off guard. He had the FBI release that, along with one of its agents, Dr. Tyler Locke had been killed during a melee on board the Genesis Dawn. Garrett wouldn’t be concerned when Perez didn’t check in with him. He’d think that both of them were killed.

The next job was to find out where Garrett was taking Dilara. Locke suspected they kidnapped her as some kind of potential bargaining chip or maybe to question her. If they wanted her dead too, they would have killed them both instead of having Perez separate them. She was still alive, but Locke didn’t know for how long.

“Where’s Garrett’s plane?” Locke asked Aiden MacKenna using the jet’s satellite phone. Aiden had been working with the FBI trying to track down Garrett.

“According to the Bureau,” Aiden said, “they landed in Seattle an hour ago. Just missed them. We know they didn’t get on another plane, but we’ve lost their trail. They must be somewhere in the Puget Sound vicinity.”

“Do you have a list of Garrett’s facilities in the area?”

“I do. We found ties between Garrett’s company and PicoMed Pharmaceuticals, where Sam Watson worked. It’s in Seattle along with most of Garrett’s other real estate, including his company headquarters.”

“What I’m looking for is the place where the bunker was built. Garrett’s getting ready to release this prion. That means he should be holing up in Oasis. He wouldn’t have built it in the middle of Seattle. It would be on some piece of land that’s out of the way. Does he have a ranch somewhere?”

“Not that I’ve found, either under his own name or his company names.”

Locke thought about the possibilities. If Garrett were really trying to recreate the effects of the Flood, and he thought he was Noah…

“Aiden, what about the Holy Hydronastic Church?”

“Let me tap into the FBI database and crosscheck with a little illicitly-obtained financial data.” He paused. Locke heard typing. “I think we may have a winner. The church headquarters is in downtown Seattle, which wouldn’t fit your parameters, but they have a large property on Orcas Island.”

“What kind of buildings?”

“According to the latest DoD satellite imagery, it looks like five. Another mansion. What looks like an enormous hotel. And then three warehouses the size of airplane hangars. They’ve also got helipads and a huge dock.”

That was it. The perfect place to build a bunker that wouldn’t draw much attention.

“Do you see any earthworks?” Coleman would have had to move thousands of tons of earth to dig out the tunnels and rooms of the underground bunker.

“None visible on the satellite image.”

That was odd. Locke was sure the Hydronastic Church facility was the only option, especially since Garrett had landed at Seattle, only 60 miles from Orcas Island. Still, there should be ample evidence of earthmoving.

“Check to see if the coastline has changed.”

More typing. “As far as I can tell, except for addition of the buildings, it looks exactly the same over the last three years.”

“You said they were the size of airplane hangars?”

“Big enough to hold a couple of 747s each. I can’t imagine what they’re for.”

“I can.” That was it. The hangars. Locke knew why they were there.

A beep came on the cell phone, indicating an incoming call. Locke looked at caller ID and grimaced. It was the call he had been dreading.

“Aiden,” Locke said, “I have to take this. See if you can get anything that proves Garrett is on Orcas Island. Check all the boats and helicopters.”

“Okay, Tyler. I’ll call you back.”

Locke took a breath and switched over to the other line.

“General. Thanks for returning my call.”

“I heard about that mess on the Genesis Dawn,” came the blunt response. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Locke could already feel his hackles rising. Even after two years of virtually no contact, the man knew how to push his buttons. “It wasn’t really my choice, Dad. They’ve tried to kill me three times.”

“Three times! And you’re just coming to me now?”

This conversation was going just as badly as Locke thought it would. Not if my life depended on it was what he had thought when Miles first suggested calling Sherman Locke. But it wasn’t his life that was now in danger. It was Dilara’s.

Given the results from the CDC testing, Locke figured it was only a matter of time before the military got involved. The discovery of a new bioweapon was a matter of national security, and the FBI would have to coordinate with them. With Dilara taken hostage, Locke didn’t want to be left out of the loop, so he’d reluctantly placed the call to his father’s office and provided some details about Oasis.

“I didn’t have any evidence until now that you would be able to do anything about,” Locke said. “But the situation has become critical, and I think the military has the capability to handle it.”

The General made a clicking sound with his tongue. Disapproval. “Sounds like you’re in over your head.”

“What do you want me to say, Dad? That I need your help?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, son.”

His father’s voice was harsh, but Locke also detected a concern behind it he hadn’t often heard. The hackles lowered slightly.

“Fine,” he said. “I need your help.”

“That’s what we’re here for. The CDC tells me we’ve got a Level Four bio-terrorism agent on our hands.”

“It’s bad stuff.”

“It looks like none of it survived, so we don’t have any way to develop a response.”

His father used the typical military code for a cure, but Locke suspected the General really wanted the weapon for the military’s use.

“I spoke to the president,” the General said. “When he heard how nasty these prions were, he decided, on my recommendation, that this was a clear and present danger to the country’s security. He directed the military to do anything in its power to secure them.”

“And the FBI?”

“When I briefed him about Oasis, the president decided that the FBI counterterrorism unit doesn’t have the specialization to take on a hardened facility like that. He’s authorized an Army assault team to attack it. He just needs to know where.”

“I know where. The Hydronast compound on Orcas Island.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ninety percent sure,” Locke said, then winced when he realized how wishy-washy that sounded.

To Locke’s surprise, his father said, “That’s good enough for me.”

“I’ve got an idea about how to verify it. Where are you now?”

“I’m on my way to White Sands,” the General said. “I want you there by noon. You’re attending a demonstration.” It was a command, not an invitation. Locke knew better than to argue.

“Of what?”

“I can’t say. But it’s relevant to our current problem.”

“Okay. I should be there by 11:30am.” White Sands was on the way to Phoenix from Atlanta. “I’m going to have Grant Westfield meet me there.”

“This is on a need-to-know basis.”

“You’ve met Grant. Former Ranger and combat engineer. He’s got the same clearance I do, and he’s a top-notch electrical engineer. He also knows more about the Hayden crash than anyone else.”

“Fine. Don’t be late.” He hung up.

Locke looked at the phone, puzzled. The conversation hadn’t gone as he’d expected. For a moment, it actually seemed like his father wanted his advice. Whatever the General wanted to show him at White Sands must be pretty important if he himself was making an appearance.

Locke went to the cockpit and poked his head in.

“Change of plans, guys. We’re going to New Mexico.”

FORTY-THREE

At 3200 square miles, White Sands Missile Range is the largest US military installation, three times the size of Rhode Island. It has been used as a test facility for some of the military’s most powerful weapons ever since the first atomic bomb was detonated at the Trinity site on the base’s eastern portion in 1945. Locke’s pilot landed on the runway used as an emergency landing site for the space shuttle.

The jet was guided to a ramp not far from a helicopter. Grant was standing next to it. Before the plane’s engines were silent, Locke opened the door to a blast of heat. He put on a cap and sunglasses and walked over to Grant, whose bald head was already beaded with sweat.

Grant gave Locke a serious look. “Man, I’m sorry about Dilara,” he said. “I’m sure she’s okay.”

“We’ll get her back,” Locke said confidently, even though he was burning up with concern.

“Damn right we will.”

“We going for a ride?”

“The test site is 50 miles from here. The General wants us there in a hurry.”

“Any idea why?”

Grant shook his head. “Apparently, he likes his secrets. Said he’d tell us when we got there.” They climbed in and were airborne one minute later.

In another twenty minutes, the chopper landed next to a collection of trailers hooked to a massive generator and satellite dishes.

Grant led Locke to the biggest trailer, a double wide. Inside, they found rows of computer monitors manned by technicians, some in civilian clothing, others in Air Force and Army uniforms. The AC cooled the room to a chilly 65 degrees. Locke could hear a countdown and saw a red timer centered above a huge window that had a great view of a mountain ten miles away. A plasma screen next to the window showed a closer view of the mountain. Fifteen minutes were left on the clock.

Major General Sherman Locke was conferring with two other generals at the other end of the trailer. When he saw his son and Grant enter, he cut off his discussion and approached them. He wore a grim expression.

Even in his late fifties, the General was a physically imposing man, fitter and taller than most of the younger soldiers in the room. Anyone who knew Tyler Locke could immediately see the resemblance between father and son. It was in their demeanor that they differed. The son had a relaxed way of dealing with others, preferring to lead by example and a soft touch. The father, on the other hand, commanded with an iron fist, demanding to be in charge in every situation he encountered, and this was no exception.

“Captain,” the General said, holding out his hand to Locke, “glad you could make it. Your sister told me to say hello.”

The General was the only person who insisted on using Locke’s military rank after he resigned his commission. It probably was also a message to the others in the room that his son was an officer.

“General,” Locke said, taking the General’s granite grip and returning it hard, “please return the favor for me.”

The General nodded at Grant and shook his hand perfunctorily. Locke and his father silently appraised each other, neither revealing anything beyond a blank stare.

“I bet it took a lot for you to call me,” the General said his son.

Locke ignored the dig. “You saw the report from the CDC?”

“I’ve warned Ft. Detrick and the FBI for years that computers and private labs would eventually put dangerous bioweapons in the hands of non-governmental actors. They were concerned about anthrax and smallpox, but I knew it was a matter of time before we saw something worse, and now it looks like we have.”

General Locke was in charge of the military’s Defense Threat Reduction Agency, which was responsible for countering weapons of mass destruction. His 35 years in the Air Force had made him one of the best-connected and most respected officers. His position allowed him to be involved in practically any operation he wanted, especially when units were testing out new weaponry in the battlefield.

A full bird colonel approached and quietly asked the General a question. The General answered and the colonel responded with a smart, “Yes, sir!”

Locke had been around his father during parties with other officers, but he’d never seen the General in a command situation before. Despite everything, he felt a certain amount of pride seeing his father in charge.

“General,” Locke said, “the people who deployed the bioagent on Hayden’s airplane tried the same thing on the Genesis Dawn. I’m sure they’ll make another attempt soon.”

“And you claim that Sebastian Garrett is behind this?”

“Yes, sir,” Locke said, marveling at how quickly he felt himself becoming an Army officer again in his father’s presence. “We have evidence that Sebastian Garrett is responsible. He owns one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country, and he’s an expert in biochemistry. He also has the financial resources to build Oasis.”

“This bunker you think he has.”

Locke told the General about Project Oasis’s connection to John Coleman and how Locke had briefly worked on the project when it was called Whirlwind.

“If they didn’t substantially change the design specs from the ones I saw,” Locke said, “we’re talking about a bunker that would rival Mt. Weather. It could easily keep 300 people alive and comfortable during the time it took for this prion agent to kill the rest of the world’s population and then disperse.”

The General paused as if he were deciding what to say to them next. He took Grant and Locke aside out of earshot of the nearest technician and lowered his voice.

“What I’m about to tell you is highly classified,” he said. “I believe you. I believe you because we’ve had Garrett under investigation for two years.”

Locke and Grant looked at each other in surprise.

“What?” Grant said a little too loudly. He quieted his voice and went on. “Why? Garrett not pay his taxes?”

“Someone’s been hiring away some of the best bioweapon designers in the country from various subcontractors that were working with USAMRIID at Ft. Detrick. At first, we thought they were being lured by more money at private pharma firms. But when the numbers got larger, we started to investigate. We speculate they were promised work on other defense projects in biowarfare by entities claiming to represent secret government projects. Of course, these companies weren’t under contract to the Defense Department, but the people they recruited didn’t know that.”

“Sounds like the trick used on me with Project Whirlwind,” Locke said.

“When we dug deeper, we found some tenuous links to Sebastian Garrett, but we could never prove it.”

“Was one of these scientists named Sam Watson?”

“Yes. He died of a heart attack last week.”

“No,” Locke said. “He was poisoned.” Finally something his father didn’t already know.

The General narrowed his eyes. “How can you be sure?”

“Because the person who was with him at the time, an archaeologist named Dilara Kenner, came to see me two days later and told me he was poisoned.”

“Where is she now?”

“Sebastian Garrett has her,” Locke said, disgusted at the thought of her at Garrett’s mercy. “She was abducted while I was chasing that rogue FBI agent. We need to get her back.”

The General gave a dismissive wave. “She can’t tell him anything. Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it,” Locke said heatedly. “She’s my responsibility.”

The General put his index finger on Locke’s chest. “What you should be worried about is that Garrett will be on alert now, which puts our plans in jeopardy. We’re attempting an assault on their compound tonight.”

“You mean on Orcas Island?”

The General nodded. “We did some checking on your guess that his facility on Orcas is where the bunker is located. The FBI found a record of earthmoving equipment leased for use on his property. The only problem is, if there is a bunker there, there should have been a substantial amount of earth removed, and state records show no permits for that kind of disposal. We still haven’t figured out what happened to the dirt.”

“It’s still there,” Locke said.

“Where?”

“Inside those hangars. I did some calculations. Based on the size of the bunker, those hangars could easily hold the dirt and rock that was excavated.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s the only thing that fits.”

“Well, we’re going to make sure tonight,” the General said.

“How?”

“We’re going to infiltrate the compound. Once our ground-penetrating radar is on site, we can verify that there are underground chambers there. We’ve already checked his other labs. This prion agent wasn’t found in any of them. It must be underground.”

“How are you assaulting the lab?”

“With a full platoon of Delta Force. The compound is heavily guarded. It might be impossible to get in, so we have a backup plan. We either have to secure the agent for ourselves, or we need to destroy it before it’s released.”

“What about Dilara?”

“She’s not a mission priority.”

“Then I’m going with the team,” Locke said.

The General glowered at him. “The hell you are.”

“What’s your intel on the internal bunker schematics?”

“We don’t have any,” the General said grudgingly.

“You’re going in blind?”

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“Yes, you do. I saw the original specs. I know how they designed and built the bunker.”

The General looked up at the ceiling as if searching for some other alternative. Locke knew there was none.

“Dad, you know that for this mission to have any chance, I need to be on the ground with them.”

“And if he’s going,” Grant said, “I’m going.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Locke said.

“Have I ever volunteered for something I didn’t want to do?”

“Only if you thought you’d get laid as a result.”

Grant smiled. “No chance of that here.”

“Okay, enough!” the General growled. “Against my better judgment, you’re both going. Tyler’s got the expertise we need, which is the reason I invited you here in the first place.”

“For what?” Locke asked.

Someone in the trailer called out, “One minute to release.”

“Have you heard of MOP?”

“The Massive Ordnance Penetrator?” Locke recalled it from an article in the International Journal of Propellants, Explosives, and Pyrotechnics.

“That’s right. Boeing has been developing it for us specifically to target underground bunkers holding weapons of mass destruction. I never thought we’d use it on our own soil. We’re doing final testing today. If it succeeds, I’ve been authorized to use it to take out Oasis.”

“You mean, that’s your backup plan, sir?” Grant said.

“If we can’t get in and neutralize it by conventional means, yes.” The General turned back to Locke. “So my question for you, Captain, is will it work?”

Locke recalled the specs on the bomb. At 20 feet long and 30,000 pounds, it was heavier than the infamous MOAB, the Massive Ordnance Air Burst bomb, and could destroy bunkers that were up to 200 feet below ground.

Locke was aghast. “There are 300 men and women in that bunker,” he said. Including Dilara.

“That should make sure you understand the lengths the president is willing to go to keep this prion agent from being released. So I repeat, will it work? Will it completely destroy Oasis?”

Locke nodded solemnly. “If they built it according to the original specs, it’ll wipe out the entire facility.”

The timer was counting down from ten, and a voice accompanied it. One of the screens showed a view from a chase plane of the B-52 that was carrying the MOP. When the count reached zero, a huge bullet-shaped bomb fell from the B-52, which banked away once the bomb was clear.

“Thirty seconds to impact,” the countdown voice said.

“Dad,” Locke said, “you’re making a mistake. We aren’t even sure that this agent would be destroyed by the bomb.”

“There are 5300 pounds of explosive in that bomb. Whatever isn’t incinerated will be buried in the rubble.”

“But we’re talking about 300 lives.”

“The President agrees with our assessment. Those lives are expendable to make sure this threat is neutralized. If you want to save those people, make sure you secure that compound before 2100.”

The airman reached the end of the countdown. “Three…two…one…”

For a fraction of a second, Locke could see the enormous bomb that plunged into the side of the mountain. A moment later, the microphone on the camera picked up a rumble deep within the mountain. The side of the mountain rose then collapsed, creating a depression 300 feet across and 40 feet deep. Dust cascaded into the air, but the explosion was too far underground to blast outward. The trailer erupted in cheers and applause, but Locke was chilled by the fearsome sight.

“The cave that MOP just destroyed was buried in 125 feet of granite,” the General said.

“The rock at Orcas Island isn’t as strong,” Locke said.

“You still want to go?”

Even more now, Locke thought as he nodded.

“You’re a stubborn bastard,” the General said with a hint of a smile. “Just like your father. All right. You’ll have until 2100 hours tonight to give us the all-clear. After that, I’ll have no choice but to turn Garrett’s compound into a crater.”

“When does the assault begin?”

“We can’t give them any time to prepare. It’s set for 2000 hours, Pacific time, enough time for complete darkness to set in. We estimate that if Oasis can’t be breached in one hour, it won’t happen and the team’s been eliminated. That puts us in serious danger of losing containment of the bioweapon.”

“We’ll make it,” Locke said.

“I’m heading up the joint operation,” the General said with an steely gaze directly at Locke. “And I will order that bomb dropped at exactly 2100 hours if I don’t hear from you. Don’t be late. That’s an order, son.” Then the General turned away to speak with the colonel again. They were dismissed.

Locke could hear the helicopter outside spooling up its engine. He and Grant would have to move fast if they were going to coordinate with the strike team.

He looked at his watch. Just eight hours until the assault.