Lockdown

Eighty-four

Smoke rose from every building in the compound. In two, fires still burned, the foam pumped into them by fire crews wearing respirators and bio-suits seemingly doing little to dampen the flames. Between buildings, bodies lay scattered. The detainees had put in a good shift resisting the assault, taking with them at least half a dozen JTTF and other personnel.

In the Center for Disease Control trailer, Lock was losing patience as he waited for his test results. ‘How many times? Right now I might be one of the safest people in America.’

His pleas cut no ice. There was procedure, and it was going to be followed. Outside he could hear the chatter on the radios was accelerating rather than diminishing. Not a good sign after an assault. Then, as one of the CDC techs made her final checks, he heard Ty giving someone some serious shit right outside the door.

‘You lost her? You assholes!’

That was it. Lock was on his feet and out, brushing aside the thick-necked twat on the door with an open palm.

The guy followed him out, drawing his weapon. ‘Sir, step back inside.’

‘I’ve met meter maids that were more intimidating than you, bud, so put away the pistol while your hands still work.’

The confrontation was cut short by the CDC tech. ‘It’s OK, Brad, he’s clear.’

Lock joined Ty. ‘The Ghost done it again?’

‘Looking that way.’

Lock glanced back to the smouldering ruins as an NYPD Bomb Squad bulldozer trundled past them. ‘Hell, she’s probably halfway to South America with what’s left of the family fortune by now. What about everyone else?’

‘Richard’s safe, back with his boy. Hey, we did what we set out to. Just have to tie up the loose end.’

‘I’d say that crazy bitch rigged to two kilos of C4 is more than a loose end.’

‘She’s Chechen. Thought they had a beef with the Russians, not us.’

‘They didn’t, until now,’ said Frisk, coming up fast behind them. ‘And she’s not the only thing that’s unaccounted for.’

‘Care to elaborate?’

‘The entire stock of Ebola variant’s gone too.’