‘Jon!’ Jones yelled above the din.
Payne turned to see his friend pointing toward the second stairwell at the far end of the floor. He watched as Cole and two of his henchmen disappeared through the exit.
‘Rabbit?’ Jones asked.
Payne flexed his trigger finger. ‘Rabbit.’
Jones slung his M4 over his shoulder. He crouched like a sprinter in the starting blocks and took a deep breath before bursting from his stance. His head held low, he darted between tables and equipment stands, ducking and weaving his way across the room.
Like greyhounds chasing the racetrack hare, the gunmen’s aim followed Jones as he ran. As they turned away from him, Payne sprang from his crouch and unloaded a full magazine into the unsuspecting pair. They fell, unable to catch their breath as the air escaped their bullet-ridden lungs. Confident that his friend was no longer in danger, Payne stepped over each man and ended his life with a single round.
‘Clear?’ Jones asked.
‘Clear,’ Payne replied.
Jones rose to his full height as Payne raced by him in pursuit of Cole. Jones followed him into the second stairwell, where they had a decision to make. The exit was above them, but bloody palm smears on the wall indicated that someone had made their way down.
‘You go up,’ Payne said. ‘I’m going to check out the basement.’
‘See you outside,’ Jones replied as he raced up to the next level. He kicked the door open and ducked behind the wall as shots ricocheted around him.
The goon waiting for his arrival had just missed his best opportunity.
Jones stepped through the door and aimed his rifle where he expected his opposition to be, but there was no one visible in the gloom. All he could see were the animal cages he had passed on the way in. Row after row of mice, rats, cats and more. All of them riled up from the panic and noise and fear. They, more than men, could sense danger.
Suddenly Jones saw a shadow dart across the room.
Two more joined the hunt, moving more quickly than humanly possible.
Another shot rang out, this time missing Jones by mere inches. He returned fire with a spray of bullets from his M4 and used the commotion to adjust his position, creeping around toppled transport cages that were now strewn about the room, trying to locate his target. He steadied himself and listened, hoping that his quarry would give himself away.
What he heard instead sent a chill down his spine.
The man’s scream was shrill. A horrified shriek like the wailing of a banshee. It was followed by two rapid gunshots, then a sickening, gurgling plea for help.
Jones stepped forward cautiously, unsure of what he would find. As he came upon the gunman, he realized that shooting him would have been an act of kindness.
But he wasn’t in the mood to be kind.
A dead chimpanzee lay at the man’s side. He had killed it with the pistol that dangled from his limp hand. The other two chimps were busy dismantling the man’s face. His eyes and ears had been removed, and his throat had been torn open. Jones could see from the man’s wounds that he was close to death, as the carotid artery had stopped spurting blood into the pool that had gathered around his head. Now it was just a trickle.
‘Got what you deserved,’ Jones muttered as he retreated toward the exit, not the least bit concerned about the angry chimps. He had set them free earlier, and they had cleared his way. He knew they wouldn’t attack him from behind.
‘Headed for the surface,’ Jones announced.
‘Copy that,’ Rhino answered. ‘You have eyes on Panther?’
‘Negative, Rhino. Panther, do you read?’
But Payne did not respond.
60
As Payne entered the basement, the acrid scent of burned flesh and noxious gas stung his nostrils. He had seen pictures of the crematorium used in the Stockholm laboratory, but this was different … very different. This was something straight from the horrors of Auschwitz or Dachau. Here the incinerator was virtually the entire floor — a long corridor of flamethrowing nozzles that could be sealed at either end.
The chamber was open.
And gas was venting into the room.
A cough from somewhere in the distance pulled Payne’s attention from the gas that was spreading throughout the basement. Then he heard loud, labored breathing.
Following the wall of the incinerator deeper into the basement, his rifle at the ready, he found the source of the sound as Hendrik Cole emerged from the shadows at the far end of the floor. Blood seeped from a gunshot wound in his abdomen.
Cole wouldn’t survive the night without medical attention.
Payne knew it, and Cole knew it too.
He laughed at the sight of Payne. ‘I’d put the rifle down …’ He pulled Tomas Berglund into view. He looked terrified. ‘… Unless you want us all to burn.’
Payne knew he was out of options. He could feel the air thickening with the flammable gas used to fuel the incinerator. If he fired his M4, the muzzle flare would ignite the room, turning the basement into a raging inferno.
‘Masseri gave us up before you killed him?’ Cole asked. When Payne didn’t respond, a surprised smile spread across Cole’s face as he began to understand the truth. ‘You didn’t kill him, did you? He led you here.’ He laughed at the thought.
‘And I’ll bet you thought assassins were trustworthy,’ Payne taunted.
Cole shrugged as blood seeped from his gut. ‘Good help is hard to find. I guess I’ll just have to make better decisions in the future.’
‘What makes you think you have a future?’
Cole pounded on the metal wall. The hollow echo of the tunnel behind it resonated throughout the room. ‘Always give yourself a way out.’
Payne lowered his rifle. ‘You better run fast. I’ll be coming.’
Cole opened the steel door and pushed Berglund into the tunnel. He lingered in the doorway for an extra second. ‘Actually, you’re the one who better run fast.’
As he pulled the door shut behind him, he lobbed something back into the basement. Payne immediately recognized the device as a flash-bang grenade. It wasn’t normally lethal, but he knew that the white-hot spray of burning magnesium that would erupt from the canister was sure to ignite the explosive vapor hanging in the air.
He cursed and broke for the stairwell, trying to outrun the flames. As he sprinted up the stairs, he felt the air rush past him as the exploding grenade drew in the available oxygen before exhaling in a mighty roar. He turned a corner and slammed a door, flames nipping at his heels. By the time he was at the top level of the compound, the fire had reached the main lab. Freshly fueled by the chemicals, the flames devoured the top two stories of the building just as Payne charged through the exit.
Jones watched as his best friend dove for cover a split second before the front entrance of the building was destroyed by the explosive force of the escaping fire. He ran forward and dragged Payne from the reach of the flames. As he did, he could smell the acrid stench of burned hair and cloth. He looked down to make sure his best friend wasn’t on fire.
‘Jon,’ he demanded, ‘are you okay?’
Payne opened his eyes and shook his head, clearing the ringing in his ears. ‘They got away.’
‘Who?’
‘Cole and Berglund. They got out through a tunnel in the basement.’
Without saying a word, Jones used a series of hand gestures to notify Hulk and Rhino of the development. In response, the two soldiers took off into the woods surrounding the compound. Jones helped Payne to his feet, and together they stumbled toward the crowd of rescued scientists that had gathered a safe distance from the building.