“Out of how many?”
“Out of four,” Lou replied dryly.
“Understood,” the man said, after a split second of silence.
“This civilian is ready to fight. You can count me in,” Blake said, stepping up toward the man. “Blake Bernard,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.
“Call me Martin, I’m the team lead.” The man shook Blake’s hand vigorously, not hiding his surprise. “The Blake Bernard?”
“Uh-huh,” Blake replied.
One of the men whistled appreciatively.
“It will be an honor to go to battle with you, sir,” the man added, ending his statement with a firm salute.
“Alex Hoffmann,” she introduced herself. “Also ready, but not nearly as famous.”
Martin shook her hand just as vigorously.
“One question,” she said, “how do we call you? Your men?”
“Just call us Bravos. We like anonymity in our line of work; I hope you understand. We’re your backup team. Bravo stands for backup.”
“OK, got it,” she replied, then turned her attention to Lou.
“There’s a single entry point to the silo that we can see here,” Lou continued his briefing, showing the men his phone screen with the imagery received from DigiWorld. “There are guards here and here,” he continued, pointing at the screen, “and there’s a hangar or carport of sorts to the side, where some trucks are parked. Those are guarded too.”
“Copy,” Martin confirmed. “Bravo teams, move out.”
…57
Gary counted every minute since Teng had returned to the lab. Would it work? Did Teng keep his side of the deal? Or had he caved under pressure, ratting on them again? Come on, already, he encouraged the Russians in his mind. Come to Papa for a restful sleep, guaranteed to last forever.
He verified for the tenth time that everyone was in position and ready. Adenauer stood tall, his backbone stiff, and his face carved in stone, right next to the lab table nearest the door. The aerosol canister containing the anesthetic mix was inches away from his hand, tucked discreetly between the two centrifuges and the chromatograph.
Declan Mallory had an oxygen mask on, and slept sedated, undisturbed, unaware of anything. It was better for him that way.
As for the rest of them, they huddled near the far end of the lab tables, pretending to be working on various equipment, and ready to spring into action at the earliest opportunity.
Clamor outside the door caught his attention. Multiple men treaded heavily and noisily approaching the lab, then the rusty bolt was pulled, and the door shoved open forcefully.
“This is it, guys,” he whispered, “Godspeed.”
Adenauer swallowed his antidote, then turned to face the door.
Four armed men barged in, followed by Bogdanov. Gary recognized King Cobra, Death, and One-Eye, but the fourth was a new face, a huge man wearing a long, monastic beard, and holding a Kalashnikov with ease, as if it were a toy. Bogdanov’s face was contorted in anger, his eyes glinting with pure hatred.
Gary saw Adenauer hesitate to release the gas, and he followed his gaze to see Marie-Elise staring at the floor, where she’d dropped her antidote capsule. Gary signaled her almost imperceptibly to leave it. Picking it up would be risky; could get the Russians’ attention. She leaned against the back wall, pale, and nodded discreetly to Adenauer, encouraging him to proceed.
Unseen, Gary popped his capsule in his mouth, then swallowed it immediately. Behind him, Jane, Teng, Fortuin, and Bukowsky took their pills, while Marie-Elise let herself slide to the floor, hidden from view by a storage cabinet. Good. This way, if she fainted she wouldn’t risk hurting herself in the fall.
He turned to watch the Russians near the lab entrance, and saw Adenauer releasing the canister valve and stepping back.
“You are dead, all of you, you fucking cunts!” Bogdanov thundered.
He pulled his gun and released the safety, pointing it at Adenauer’s head. Adenauer stood firmly, calm, brave, and dignified, unfazed by Bogdanov, and taking shallow, infrequent breaths.
“Kak der’mo,” King Cobra said, disgust showing on his face. “What is this smell?”
“This is nothing to worry about,” Adenauer said, almost smiling. “We work with chemicals here, so that can happen. But see? I am breathing it too. If you take deep breaths, like this, you won’t feel it anymore.” He demonstrated with his hands, encouraging them to breathe in the stink of desflurane.
God, I hope he’s faking it, Gary thought.
Bogdanov pointed his gun at Gary next, then back to Adenauer, his hand shaking just a little.
“What’s going on? What are you fuckers doing?” he yelled. “I will kill all of you, you hear me?”
Why the fuck isn’t it working? Gary thought, sweat bursting at the roots of his hair. It has to work! It has to!
Then he noticed One-Eye lean against the back wall, and Death running his hand against his forehead and shaking his head, as if to rid himself of a dizzy spell and regain focus.
It was working; they just needed a little more time.
Reading his mind, or just being the pure genius that he was, Adenauer started explaining to the men how the sense of smell worked, and how the nose protects itself by blocking the sensory information of a strong smell after a few inhalations, to maintain the capacity of discerning new smells despite the prevalence of a stronger, pervasive scent. Pedantic and calm, he took his time going through lots of trivial details about the wondrous human olfactory system. Bogdanov probably already knew most of that, and the rest of the men didn’t really care, but Adenauer’s speech kept them busy inhaling some more aerosolized anesthetic.
Then Gary noticed how Adenauer had placed a hand firmly against the surface of the lab table, to help support his weight. He was starting to feel weak, despite the antidote. Damn…
Bogdanov was the first to collapse, probably because of his smaller body mass. As he fell, he fired his gun twice. Both bullets strayed and hit the wall above their heads.
Death took two steps forward to catch Bogdanov as he fell, but he never got that far. He collapsed on one knee, then buckled to the side, his head hitting the concrete floor with a loud thud. One-Eye collapsed right where he stood, leaning against the wall. King Cobra was next, and the bearded giant was last, falling forward while trying to fire his Kalashnikov.
“Now!” Gary yelled, and leapt forward, opening a metallic case stocked with chloroform on gauze. Grabbing a couple, he ran and placed one on Bogdanov’s nose, and one on Death’s, holding them firmly in place for a few good seconds.
Bukowsky was right behind him, taking care of the other men. He placed gauze soaked in chloroform on the noses of One-Eye and King Cobra, and then struggled to flip the bearded thug on his back.
Gary helped roll the man over and took his weapon, while Bukowsky gave him his due dose of chloroform. Then he helped Adenauer move to the back of the lab to breathe cleaner air, and offered him a second antidote.
Jane and Fortuin picked up Marie-Elise and put her on a cot. Fortuin held her head up and opened her mouth, while Jane opened one of the capsules and spread the powder under Marie-Elise’s tongue, to speed up the absorption and get it in her blood stream without risking her choking on the capsule. Within seconds, she started fluttering her eyelids and mumbling. She was going to be OK.