OUTCAST Ops: The Poseidon Initiative

SEVEN

The Gulfstream G650 banked into a turn high over the Dutch coast. On board, the trio of OUTCAST operatives and Jasmijn returned to their seats from the conference table where they’d been seated for most of the flight from Maryland. She had answered all of the questions Dante, Stephen and Naomi had asked regarding the layout of her lab, university security protocols, storage locations, methods for the key antidote components, and more. She had furnished them with photos of the lab and surrounding campus. At the end of it all, she had been taken aback when Stephen had handed her a Dutch passport.

“But I already have a passport.”

“Use this instead. Hofstad may be able to track your movements through customs. If we are lucky they’ll think you’re still in the U.S.”

“Clearly, I’m not lucky,” she had responded dourly.

“You’re still alive,” Dante had interjected. “That’s pretty lucky.”

It made Jasmijn nervous to be using a false document to enter her own country, as if she had done something wrong. But she trusted Tanner Wilson, and Tanner had promised her before she left (and kissed her lightly on the lips) that she could trust his operatives with her life.

When the plane landed and they disembarked onto the much less crowded private plane terminal, she walked up to the customs counter, smiled and handed the official her fake passport. Zoe Booten, indeed. She wondered if Tanner had come up with that cute little name for her. Although she was sure the customs agent could see through her jittery smile and was about to wave over an associate like she saw them do in the movies, after a cursory glance at her passport he simply waved her through. And that was it. Dante, Stephen and Naomi had passed through with equal ease.

Initially, Jasmijn had expected to introduce her OUTCAST escorts to the university security guards posted outside her lab door as well as the campus police officers patrolling the general area, but during her in-flight briefing, Stephen had told her that wouldn’t be necessary. Dante and Naomi were microbiology colleagues (with verifiable, appropriate credentials, of course) and would accompany her into and out of the lab at will.

“And you?” she had asked. She couldn’t help but see a deep…something…in Shah’s eyes. It was like a level of sadness that never went away, put there from having seen too much of the human condition’s dark underbelly.

“Do not worry about me. I will be nearby, yet invisible. I will be there when you and my team need me, I assure you.”

Inwardly, Jasmijn questioned this, but she had no choice other than to take his words at face value. At least she had the other two operatives literally at her side. That was comforting, though she wondered how well they’d be able to pull off the role-playing aspect of their assignment. From what she’d seen of them thus far, they were about the farthest thing from the geeky, introspective associates she’d typically worked with.

But they’d assured her not to worry and so here she was, strolling up to her laboratory door flanked by two undercover operatives as if it was just another day at the office. She had to admit, though, that Dante in his Dockers slacks and rumpled Oxford U. sweatshirt, and Naomi in a slightly more fashionable yet still suitable for business lab rat outfit of jeans and a fisherman’s sweater (it was cold this time of year in Netherlands), dressed the part surprisingly well.

As expected, all three of them including Jasmijn were required by the pair of radio-toting security guards at the door to show ID. Also as expected, the guards questioned Jasmijn about her new associates. She explained that they were visiting colleagues she had requested to work with her, and then the guards opened the lab door for them.

Once inside with the lab door closed, Jasmijn turned to Dante and Naomi, whose eyes already scanned the room, comparing the layout to the photos they’d seen. They walked in opposite directions between the rows of lab benches while Jasmijn talked.

“I noticed that the security guards don’t carry guns. The campus police officers do, but not security. How are they going to help me against these terrorists if they come back? I’m sure glad you guys are here,” she finished, watching as Naomi lifted her head to gaze over a lab bench to the floor beyond. She was taking nothing for granted, posted guards or not. Naomi replied while continuing to stalk the lab.

“We have to assume that everyone here is compromised, guns or no guns. Those guards at the door could be card carrying Hofstad members, for all we know. Don’t trust anyone except us.”

Jasmijn watched as she reached a large, metal square door with a curved handle. “Cold storage, right?”

“Right.”

“Walk-in or just racks?”

“Racks. Don’t worry, nobody could hide in there. Too cold, anyway. Just above freezing. The key samples for the antidote work are in there.”

“Can I open it?” Naomi paused with her fingers over the handle.

“Yes. The sample material isn’t particularly toxic. They’re cell cultures.”

Naomi slowly pulled the door open and looked inside. A light came on and illuminated racks of test tubes on several shelves.

“Does it look like how you left it last?”

“It does.” She watched as Dante’s head poked up from behind a lab bench. He gave Naomi some kind of hand signal and then she seemed to relax. She addressed Jasmijn.

“Okay, everything’s clear in here. You can get to work whenever you’re ready. If you need to leave for any reason, including the bathroom, one of us will go with you and the other will stay here. Okay?”

Jasmijn agreed. As she set about preparing her equipment and samples, she saw Dante tap an earpiece and speak softly. Looking closely at Naomi’s left ear, she saw one there, too. She supposed they could communicate with Stephen, probably roaming the campus somewhere. Taking a deep breath, Jasmijn consulted her lab notes and tried to block out the extraordinary circumstances surrounding her while she got back into work mode.