Carrion Virus (Book 2): The Athena Protocol (15 page)

Nobody else moved about the facility. If she waited longer there was bound to be a witness. Jane, heart racing, burst into the bathroom. Hyde stood at the urinal. He did not look up, but kept his eyes downcast. Jane pulled out the syringe, popping off the plastic guard, exposing the needle. Hyde turned toward her.

“What are you doing here? Get out!”

Jane lashed out, plunging the thin lance into his neck, and depressing the plunger.

Hyde snatched at his neck, as Jane stepped back. He pulled it free, looked down at it in his hands.

“You bitch!” He threw the syringe at her, took three fast steps and of a sudden his hands were on her throat. “What have you done to me?”

Those hands tightened. His eyes widened. “What? What have you done?”

Jane couldn’t get air into her lungs. He squeezed tighter. She dug her nails into his wrists, scraping, pulling. He kept hold. Jane brought up a knee, her aim not quite right, hitting his considerable gut.

I’m going to die! I’m going to die!

Panic. Fear. Regret. She tried calling out, but no sound came. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The anger that distorted his face, fell away, so too, his hands.

Jane collapsed onto the ground, gasping, coughing, her hands at her chest encouraging air to flow.

Hyde’s legs gave way. His head struck the tiled floor. His breathing grew rapid for a few moments but then settled to deep, long breaths.

Jane waited for something to happen, either Hyde to jump to his feet or someone to walk in and discover them both. Nothing happened. A tap dripped in the sink, rhythmic and steady.

Get up and move, she urged herself. Jane got to her feet, her neck burning. She patted Hyde’s body, searching for his ID keycard. He usually wore it around his neck or clipped to his belt. She checked his trouser pockets and found what she was looking for. She pulled the small card free, and slipped it into her pocket. The disabled bathroom cubicle door was open. As far as she knew, there were no disabled staff working in the facility. It would do to store him out of sight for some time. Jane hauled his arms, dragging him only a few inches at a time. But each tug drew him closer. Finally, the fat body was in the confines of the cubicle. Jane pulled the door closed, and used a coin to lock it from the outside.

A part of her could not believe she had managed to do all this without something going wrong. Still nobody moved about the corridors.
Steady now, Jane. Normal movements. You can do this.
In the two days since Christmas, the operations at the facility ran on minimal staff. Jane confidently slipped through the maze of corridors, back to Hyde’s office. She had walked the corridors more times than she cared to remember, the complicated layout no longer held any surprises for her.

The security cameras stood silent watch above her. Jane held the keycard to the reader and the blinking red light turned green. The door clicked open and she went inside. The office was modest in size, well-kept and organised. Jane found the satellite phone immediately. She tucked the device into the waistband of her trousers, pulling her top down to cover it. After a quick scan of the room, and finding nothing more of use, she slipped out.

***

The door to the office burst open and Jane entered. Holden stood, unsure if her rush was due to being pursued or if she bore other news. She pulled up her top and removed the bulky satellite phone, placing it into Holden’s hand. He scarcely believed Jane managed to acquire it. Hope was all he had, confidence not entering into the equation of late.

“Hyde?”

“Unconscious. I’ve locked him in the disabled bathroom.”

“And you weren’t discovered?”

“No. Not as far as I know. Make the call, Eugene. If Williamson doesn’t agree to help us then all this is for nothing.”

“He’ll help us, Jane. I know he will.” Holden knew it was time confidence returned.

He began to dial.

***

Eric trudged into the familiar hotel in Aberdeen where Black Aquila was based. He had flown into the city an hour ago. Fires still raged, unchecked, sending black plumes of smoke into the air. A large flotilla of naval ships lay at anchor a short distance off the coast, large warships, an aircraft carrier group and a small cluster of commercial ships. The airport had been transformed into a military hub. Much of the open space was now taken over with temporary buildings, the runways and hangars clogged with all types of military aircraft.

Eric was shown to Williamson’s room. When he entered, Williamson stood and shook his hand. He did not smile. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He appeared a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Eric, you’ve no idea how glad I am to see you. Grab a seat.” Williamson moved to the sofa, eased himself back and cracked his neck. Laid out on the table before him were three laptops. He closed each in turn, snapping the lids down. Williamson rubbed his eyes. “How is the family?”

“Good. Great. Things are better. Thanks for allowing me those few days.”

Williamson gave a genuine smile. Eric got the feeling it was not something he had done lately. The exchange was short-lived.

“Things seem different. The airport is crawling with military. There’s an armada on the coast and still the snow falls. What’s happening?”

“The situation has changed in the brief time you’ve been away. All Black Aquila operations have been suspended except for security of this building. Our men, my men refuse to work in the city. I’ve a list longer than my arm of casualties, the dead in the hundreds, so we’ve been suspended until further notice. There’s been a sudden influx of American troops, not just at the airport but in the city. Elements are moving from the outskirts into the core of the city. There’s been heavy losses. I don’t even think they’re attempting to subdue the infected. Shoot and kill. Damn it, can you imagine when it gets out that it’s standard procedure? It’ll drive people to ground, nobody will seek treatment for the first two stages. We’re losing this, Eric. Losing badly. I’ve been excluded from high level security meetings. The Americans and some EU troops are filling in where we left. It’s a shit storm.”

It was much worse than what Eric believed would happen. He had been reasonably optimistic the outbreak would be under a level of control or that the CAF would be pushing further into the city, making it safe. It seemed all plans had stalled quite severely.

“So what do we do now? You wouldn’t have brought me back here to sit in a room and wait for a call.”

Williamson reached for a plastic water bottle. He turned it over in his hands while he talked. “You remember Gemma Findlay? The reporter I commissioned to look into the outbreak and gather information on the ground?”

“Of course I do.”

“She got herself to one of the displacement centres. A contingent of British Infantry, acting as CAF was stationed there. The centre, a hotel in the city centre was receiving some of the displaced, mostly women, children and families. Somehow the infected found it and overran the soldiers.”

“Is Gemma okay?”

Williamson waved a hand. “She’s okay. She got out and made it to Marischal College. It’s the council headquarters, but the CAF are using it now. It’s completely fortified. I need you to go there and bring her back. She got a message to me that she’s discovered something vital regarding the outbreak.”

“Like what?”

Williamson shrugged. “She wasn’t clear. Whatever it is, I need her back here.”

“How do I get there?”

“There’s an airlift flying out in a few hours. They’re bringing in supplies, I can get you on there and a return trip not too long after.”

“Our bird?”

“Our Chinook has been grounded for the foreseeable. Mind your Ps and Qs. We’re skating on the thin ice of their goodwill. You won’t be able to carry any kind of armament.”

Eric scoffed. “Nothing? I don’t like this, Ben. I’m being flown into the most dangerous city in the world and I’ve got nothing?”

“You’ll be safe, Eric. There’s enough soldiers and guns around to keep things in order.”

Guns in other people’s hands always seemed to lead to disaster, and more so if the CAF forces were trigger happy. Nervous soldiers and Eric walking around empty-handed did not fill him with confidence.

“Someone will call you when it’s time for the chopper. You’ve got an hour or so to get your things stowed away and gear up. You’ll have your own room this time.”

Eric knew the reason. Losses thinned the ranks of Black Aquila. How many friends died? Eric forced the thought from his mind. He needed to bring Gemma back to safety.

***

Gemma pulled one of the office chairs to the windowsill. Since being taken inside Marischal College she and George were interrogated, medically examined and eventually allowed to remain mostly at liberty. They were fed soup and slabs of bread more stale than fresh. Gemma was granted a phone call. She called Williamson’s people and told them where she was and that she may have some vital information. They were noncommittal about a rescue. She hoped that someone would come for her and that she would not just become a forgotten name on a report. It was not all about self-preservation, she finally had a lead, a lead that would possibly shine a light on the source of the outbreak.

The office had tall windows, ornate and gothic in style that looked over an inner quadrant of the building. The sill started above her eye line. Gemma clambered on top of the chair, balancing as best she could to avoid the chair slipping out from beneath her.

“What are you doing?” George lifted his head from a desk he had slumped at too long.

“I think something’s happening.”

The bottom of the window was obscured by the accumulating snow. Large floodlights flashed, their brightness forcing Gemma to close her eyes for a moment. The sound of aircraft grew louder and louder and the windowpane rattled. The Chinook hovered above the inner courtyard, strong crosswinds rocking the aircraft from side to side. It dropped down, controlled for the most past. The downdraft cast snow in every direction. It touched the ground.

The floodlights went out as the powerful engines came to a stop. Gemma climbed from the chair gingerly. George went back to resting his head on his arms on the desk. Since arriving he had been despondent, not speaking much, even to the military who questioned him over and again. Gemma spoke in his defence, as much to protect the lead in the outbreak as of genuine care for him. She thought of Dylan and his unfortunate death by friendly fire that almost claimed all their lives, too. Gemma felt the need to cry, but no tears would come. It was not safe to show emotion, not anywhere in the city. The tears would have to wait for the day she returned home to her parents.

“They must be flying in more people or supplies. A big helicopter just landed, could be our ticket out of here.”

“You really think so?” George mumbled, no hope in his monotone voice.

Gemma nodded. Not until you’ve taken me to that club and retrieved the artefact that linked the Carrion Virus to a deliberate act, she said silently to herself. She sat down at a desk and moved a mouse connected to a powerless computer. Gemma wondered what happened to the person who sat there each day. Were they dead? In containment? Or hiding somewhere in the city?

Her cameras were taken from her, with a promise they would be returned when it came time to leave. The pictures and film she captured offered a unique insight into life inside the quarantined city. Bringing Williamson the container that George spoke of would solidify her usefulness to Black Aquila. As long as she did her job, and well, she would be safe and under their protection.

The security door beeped and opened. Two soldiers stood in the office and a familiar face entered.

“Eric!” Gemma flew into his arms, soaking up his reassuring presence. Those tears threatened to come, but she allowed herself to smile.

“I heard you got into a spot of bother out there.”

Gemma moved from his arms. “You could say that.”

“You want the good news? That Chinook out there is to take you back to the airport. It’s making a supply drop and collecting the wounded from here. We’ll be back at the hotel in several hours.”

“We can’t go,” said Gemma, flatly.

“I’m sorry?”

“We can’t go, Eric, at least not right now.”

“Why not?”

Gemma hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “Because of him. George Reign.”

“And he is?”

“Nobody, it appears.” George was upright.

Emma began in a hushed voice. “I didn’t want to talk about this in my message back to Williamson’s people. I made mention of something. He’s it. He was working in a club on Belmont Street here in Aberdeen. He thinks the outbreak started there. He can tell us the day, and can list the people initially infected. More than that, he thinks he knows what kind of device was used to release the infection.”

Eric blew out his cheeks and rubbed his chin. “My orders are to bring you home.”

“Eric, we can’t let this opportunity go. This is what Williamson wanted me to do, to investigate, to dig deep and find things that normal investigations wouldn’t.”