Oath of Office (32 page)

At that moment, from beyond Stone’s prostrate, motionless body, Lou saw the radiation room door swing open. A man dressed in a bright yellow biocontainment suit emerged from the shadows of the room beyond. Groaning with each breath, Lou steeled himself to turn and run, but the suited man held up a hand in a nonthreatening gesture. Then he lifted the hood away from his face.

“Jesus,” Lou whispered.

He stepped over the fallen police chief and met Edwin Chester halfway past the convergence of the catwalks. Below them the clicking had grown more intense.

“I was involved in an experiment and didn’t hear anything that was going on,” Edwin said. “For as long as I can remember, Gilbert Stone has been owned by my father. He can be one of the most heartless, frightening men I have ever met.”

“He brought me down here to kill me,” Lou said.

“I don’t think you’d be the first. He does a lot of my father’s dirty work.”

“Edwin, this whole business has gotten out of hand.”

“I didn’t want any of this to happen. I told my father the corn wasn’t ready, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

“I thought you were his protector.”

“I am, but that doesn’t keep me from trying to cancel out some of the things he does. That’s why I contacted Darlene Mallory in the first place.”

“You? You’re Double M?”

Edwin grinned. “You expected someone a little taller and heavier? I have boots with six- and seven-inch lifts, and specially padded jackets. In my world, trust can be a very expensive commodity. I tend to stand out because of my lack of height, so when I need to, I just do something about it.”

“But why the charade? Why didn’t you just come forward and tell what you knew had happened?”

“You don’t know my father,” Edwin said. “He’s really a very wonderful man—by far the most important person in my—” His eyes widened. “Lou! Behind you!”

Lou whirled. Stone had unsteadily pushed himself to his knees and, eyes glazed, was fumbling for his gun, which had been on the catwalk underneath him. There were no choices available this time—no strategies. The distance between him and Stone was ten yards. Ignoring the pain in his chest, and keeping as low as he could manage, Lou charged. Stone rattled off two wild shots that clanged off the steel walls. The third one, fired from no more than six feet away, tore through the outside edge of Lou’s left thigh.

Lou cried out as he dropped to one knee, but his momentum carried him flailing into Stone, who was bowled over backwards. The pistol went clattering across the catwalk and slid under the railing. Lou pounded the cop in the face again and again. Blood gushing from Stone’s nostrils flowed into blood streaming from the hole in his neck. Still, the man was able to shove Lou off and make it to his feet, pulling Lou up by the shirt and squeezing the air and life out of him with the strength of a python.

Quickly, Lou’s strength began to fail. Stone swung his hips to the right, lifting Lou’s feet off the catwalk and slamming him against the railing. Lou, now nearly helpless, tried and failed to drop down to avoid being thrown over the edge. The pressure of Stone’s thick arms was unbearable. His face, teeth gritted, was a bloody mask.

Lou pushed against Stone’s chest with all his strength, but failed to put any distance between them. He was now aware of a burning pain from the muscle where the bullet had torn through. At that instant, Lou’s knees went slack and he experienced the horrific sensation of his feet leaving the catwalk. Before he could make another move, he was over the top of the railing. Frantically, he forced his fingers through the steel chain link of the catwalk wall and gripped it as tightly as he could.

Every breath was an agonizing effort. His feet dangled down, precariously close to the hordes of termites milling below him. His palms stretched until they burned. His arms quivered from exertion and utter fatigue. Grateful for the hours of training under Cap’s tutelage, Lou managed to stretch up with his right foot and slip it over a support beam beneath the walk. At that instant, Stone appeared above him, his face a hideous mask of gore. Blood, dripping down into the pit below Lou, sent the colony clicking and scurrying about. Grinning ferociously, Stone tapped the toe of his heavy boot against Lou’s fingers, sending electric pain shooting down his arm.

“Fast or slow?” Stone asked. “Your choice.”

He emphasized his question with another light tap. Though he tried, Lou failed to keep himself from crying out. His left hand fumbled to improve his grip on the metal. The tightness in his palm intensified.

Emmy, I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.

Lou tried to will himself to hold on, but felt his grip starting to release. Perspiration was stinging his eyes. His left hand was about to let go when he heard a scream from above, followed by the sound of running footsteps that shook the catwalk.

“No!” Edwin shouted as he charged the police chief.

Buoyed by the attack, Lou managed to tighten his grip. He craned his neck and looked upward just in time to see Edwin swing the metal extension pipe, connecting heavily with Stone’s temple. A second blow landed on the side of the man’s neck.

Stone staggered back from the sidewall. Swinging his weapon wildly, Edwin charged after him, stumbling against his broad chest. The two men grappled on the catwalk, spinning in circles, with Stone screaming in both rage and pain. Lou tried to pull himself up, but his arms were shaking from fatigue.

Emily.… Come on, you idiot, do it for your kid.
…

He gained a little more purchase with his foot and then finally was able to adjust the position of his hands. Overhead he could see Stone beginning to maul the much slighter Edwin.

He had to get up to help.

At that moment, Edwin made a move, almost certainly unexpected, that spun Stone around and rammed his back into the upper railing of the catwalk. In an instant, locked in each other’s arms, the two of them went over, brushing past Lou as they fell.

The heavy thud beneath him was dreadful, and was quickly followed by the unremitting shrieks of Gilbert Stone. But Lou was too weak to turn and look. He hoped that the lack of sound from Edwin meant that the man had been knocked unconscious.

The clicking and cracking from the termite jaws, reverberating off the steel walls, became deafening.

Inch by painful inch, Lou advanced upward along the outside of the catwalk wall, using his foot to push and his fingers to pull. Finally, he was upright, hanging on to the wall. Fearing what he was going to see, he finally had the strength to look down. The two adversaries lay supine, a foot from each other, their hands nearly touching. Edwin was motionless, a pool of insect-covered crimson expanding from beneath his head.

Stone was moaning and squirming with pain. His eye sockets were already filled with termites, and dozens, if not hundreds of them seemed to be forcing their way into his mouth. His lips were moving as if he were trying to speak, but no recognizable words were emerging.

Lou hung on until his wind had somewhat returned. Then he swung his legs over the top railing of the catwalk wall and dropped to his side on the metal grate, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The bullet wound to his thigh burned, but he knew that with time, the scar would be a memento of what had been the worst day of a life that had experienced more than its share of them.

Below him, the clicking and grinding of thousands of
Macrotermes bellicosi
had built into a turbinelike crescendo. Still laboring for each breath, Lou stumbled to his feet and grabbed the extension pole Edwin had used to save his life. By the time he returned to the spot where he might have had a chance to reach the man, it was way too late.

The bugs were busily eating.

And the scion of Chester Enterprises was already dead.

CHAPTER 45

It took eight minutes for the
Macrotermes bellicosi
to finish most of their meal.

Exhausted and battling pain in his sternum, thigh, and a dozen other areas, Lou sat on the catwalk and averted his eyes. From his days on the streets and in the ER of a tough city, he had seen more than his share of death in its various forms. The images never sat well with him and never would.

When he did manage a glance down, what might have been hundreds of thousands of insects were done. The sounds of the carnage, of human bones being pulverized by insect jaws, would never leave him. Aside from a few shreds, all that remained of the two men below were metal—belt buckles, Edwin’s brace, Stone’s badge and gun, and two sets of car keys.

Lou was thinking about retrieving the keys when another sound set his heartbeat racing.

An alarm buzzer began throbbing from somewhere beyond the laboratory. Somehow, Stone had managed to avoid the alarm, but whoever had just entered did not know how, or hadn’t bothered.

A light fixture encased in a metal cage and mounted just above the entrance to the catwalk began to flash.

Not good.

Lou ran through his various escape options, quickly ruling out going back the way he’d come in. There was a door at the end of the other arm of the catwalk, but if it was locked, he would essentially be trapped. The only other door in the termite lair would bring him into the radiation area. He’d have no time to don a protective suit, but the risk was unavoidable. There had to be an emergency exit someplace, and the radiation lab seemed a good bet.

First, though, he had to get through the door, and then get away from whoever had just entered the lab. Running was not an option. He needed wheels.

Using the extension pole, Lou considered going for Stone’s gun, but went fishing for Edwin’s car keys instead. If it seemed there was time after snagging the keys, he might take a crack at the pistol. The choice proved to be a good one. The heavy pole was cumbersome to use and was probably intended to grasp much larger objects. Prodding the bloodstained ground near to where Edwin’s body once had been, Lou struggled to grasp his keys. The drone of the alarm seemed to be getting more urgent.

Come on, Welcome.… Focus, dammit, Focus.

After two futile attempts, Lou hooked the keys, but deflated an instant later when the grip he had secured failed to hold.

Lou inhaled deeply. He needed to slow his heart in order to steady his hands.

Just imagine you’re sewing up a squirming little kid … don’t get flustered … just another routine procedure.

One more try, and he was going to give up and bolt. Whether he loathed them or not, he wished he had gone for the gun.

The pulsating alarm was unnerving. There was no way to tell precisely where the intruder was or how many of them were out there. He began considering going for an ambush—hiding behind the door onto the catwalk and using the extension pole as Edwin had used it. The necessity to make that decision never came. One more deep breath, and he hooked the keys. He hoisted them up, thought a second about going for Stone’s gun, but decided against it.

Looking over his shoulder, he limped across the catwalk, then disappeared into the radiation room. Whoever was about to enter the termite lair was in for a hell of a surprise.

As the steel door closed behind him, Lou thought he heard the door open at the far end of the catwalk. He slid a dead bolt into place and finally allowed himself to exhale. He had to get out and get out soon, but there had to be confusion on the other side of the door, so he probably had a bit of time to compose himself.

The radiation room was bathed in red light. Lou’s eyes were immediately drawn to what looked like a holding tank. It was a massive glass-fronted structure, five feet high and four or five feet deep, occupying most of one wall. Inside the tank were thousands upon thousands of termites, almost certainly, Lou guessed,
Macrotermes.
A long plastic tube rose up five feet from the center of the tank, made a ninety-degree right angle bend, paralleled the floor for fifteen feet or so, and then dropped down into a plastic box the size of a small refrigerator. The box rested on top of a conveyor belt, which would, Lou observed, carry the contents inside a piece of machinery that looked like the X-ray machines found at airport security points.

The purpose of the setup was apparent. A vacuum would suck the termites into the tube, then deposit them inside the box. Afterwards, the box would be conveyed into the apparatus where the insects would be radiated. On the far side of the machine was a door marked simply:
EXTRACTION
.

Extraction.
Probably the removal of the DNA from the termites, Lou decided. Incredible how far the technology had come—absolutely incredible and absolutely terrifying.

He was overtaken by an image of him and people in his life—Cap, Emily, Renee, Darlene, Steve, Filstrup, Brian, Graham, bunched together at some sort of cookout, grinning broadly as they each held out a huge ear of steaming sweet corn swathed in butter and salt.

Here, have a bite. Bon appétit!

Mutation, he knew, was the alteration of the pattern of nucleotide bases in a plant or animal, by natural accident, radiation, chemicals, or other stressors, resulting in changes—often massive ones—in the properties of the organism. Edwin was radiating the
Macrotermes bellicosi,
as Humphries had suspected, causing them to mutate into insects with greatly enhanced fecundity and the secondary ability to consume flesh.

Here, have a bite. Bon appétit!

Now, with the finding of the huge tube in the lab on the other side of the termites’ habitat, the cycle from two organisms to one was complete.

The mutated bugs were placed inside the steel holding pen where Edwin, Stone, and Anthony Brite had all perished. When their DNA was needed, somebody would gather up the carnivorous insects and bring them to the extraction room. There, they would be pulverized, and their DNA extracted using large centrifuges. Lou now felt certain the long tube he saw in the other lab was a mammoth gene gun, literally capable of blasting the mutated termite DNA into large numbers of corn kernels.

At that moment, Lou’s exhausted reverie was cut short by pounding on the door. The nightmare was hardly over.