Minutes to Burn

Chapter 62

Samantha couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. Despite the continuing activity at the makeshift work station outside the slam-mer, she dozed off, forehead pressed to the window. Donald came over, amused, and tapped lightly on the glass. She awoke with a start. "I didn't do it," she said.

He smiled, cuffing his sleeves. "I feel we conveyed the environmental and medical complications quite admirably to your superiors."

"First time I've offered expert testimony through a window."

"I'm relieved Rex and Diego made it off the island." Donald crum-pled his shirt in a fist and released it, admiring the new folds and wrin-kles. "I hope the others will be all right." He brought his lips together, his white beard bristling. "A courageous bunch."

"I like that Cameron," Samantha said. "Smart and tough. That's how I want to be when I grow up." She heard the clicking footsteps that announced Colonel Douglas Strickland's approach, and when she looked, she was shocked to see Secretary of the Navy Andrew Benneton at his side. On his way from a Senate subcommittee meeting, Benneton wore a sharp, well-tailored suit. Donald stood nervously, fingering the back of his chair.

The men shook hands, and Benneton nodded to Samantha through the glass.

"I'm glad to hear Rex is safe," Benneton said. "We're going to be able to get the rest of the squad off the island in a little more than twenty-four hours."

"How about the air strike?" Donald asked. "Is it called off?"

Benneton shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Donald, but the team here feels that the risk of the Darwin virus's spreading is unacceptable."

Samantha banged her head gently against the glass. "'The team here.' I trained half the goddamn 'team here.'"

"As soon as the squad extraction is complete, we're going to send in a B1 from Baltra. Neutron bomb," Strickland said. His tone was smug, almost proud. He removed his beret, pressing it to his side with his left elbow. "We received UN approval this morning."

"That's a surprise," Samantha muttered.

His legs shaking, Donald eased himself down into his chair. "A neu-tron bomb. That'll kill all the terrestrial island life. Boil the surrounding waters and send out a shock wave. Everything within miles…dead."

Strickland ran his tongue neatly across his lips. "That is the point, Doctor."

Benneton looked away, annoyed with Strickland's tone. Samantha sensed that there was no love lost between the two.

"Andrew," Donald said. "If I could inform you that the known virus reservoir was exterminated, and the island's water system was no longer infected, would you be willing to hold back the air strike?"

"Can you inform me of that?"

"No," Donald said. "Not yet. But Rex and the Acting Director of the Darwin Station, Dr. Diego Rodriguez, are heading to the Station to test water samples as we speak, and it is my understanding that the soldiers are hunting down the remaining carriers."

Strickland shook his head. "I don't think that's sufficient grounds to-"

"Dr. Everett," Benneton said, cutting Strickland off. "Do you think we will have reached a plane of reasonable security if these criteria are met?"

"Yes," Samantha said. "Of course, we never know when this virus could resurface, but if Sangre de Dios's water system is uncontaminated and the accountable virus reservoir exterminated, that provides us with as much guarantee as we're ever going to get." She glared at Strickland. "Certainly as much as a bombing will give you."

Benneton mulled this over. "Given our current lack of manpower, how can we monitor the island for a future reemergence?"

"A lot easier than if it's been irradiated," Samantha said.

Donald made a calming gesture. "Dr. Rodriguez has offered to moni-tor the ecological activity there on a regular basis, as well as keep an eye on the unicellular phytoplankton in surrounding waters. We can also take steps to quarantine the island."

Benneton pursed his lips, as though lost in an internal debate. "If you can give me those assurances," he finally announced, "then I will call off the strike."

Strickland inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not sure-"

"If and only if those conditions are met," Benneton said. He ticked them off on his fingers. "The water system clean, the accountable virus reservoir exterminated, and continued supervision of the island. I'm sorry, Donald, but that's the most slack I can free up."

"Can't you delay the bombing?" Donald asked.

Strickland snickered. "Oh sure. I'll just ask the Air Force to permit the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to proceed to the Caracas summit without flight escort. Maybe pull air support from the three battalions we're shifting down the coast to Guayaquil." His usual grimace returned. "Given our limited resources, we need to find the most efficient means of neutralizing the situation."

"I don't think you comprehend the gravity of what's happening on that island."

"Oh, I certainly do, Doctor. Make no mistake about it-I'm aware we have a big-league problem on our hands. That's why we're going to deal with it in big-league fashion. We're juggling a constellation of logistics to get those planes to Baltra on the thirty-first for the 2200 extraction and 2300 bombing."

Strickland glanced at his watch. The digits blinked red and steady: 1903, 30 DEC 07. "You have twenty-six hours and fifty-seven minutes. I suggest you urge your colleagues to use them well." He placed his beret atop his head and adjusted it with a sweep of his index finger. "Good day."

He snapped a crisp salute to Benneton and headed up the hall.