Starkman took up position on the other side of the doors. Chase moved into the lobby, backed up by another of the American’s men. Beyond the desk was the entrance to the glass-roofed central corridor; to one side, stairs led up and down.
A door opened, and Chase snapped up his gun. A young blond woman emerged, freezing in fear as she saw him.
“Hi,” said Chase, waving for Starkman to hold fire. “You speak English?”
The woman nodded, wide-eyed.
“Okay. Get out of the building. There’s going to be a fire. Well, more of an explosion, actually, but…” He spotted a fire alarm on the wall nearby. “Anyone else in there?”
She nodded again, too frightened to speak.
“Okay, tell them to get out… and run like hell!” He smashed the glass covering the alarm with the stock of his UMP. Bells rang. Chase winced at the noise-it would make it harder to hear any approaching guards-but the faster the civilians were out of the building, the better.
Because in five minutes, there wasn’t going to be a building.
He moved past the door-keeping his weapon aimed at the people running out, in case any of them were armed-and kicked open the next one. A security station. Empty.
But he knew there were more guards elsewhere in the building…
Starkman and the rest of his men clattered into the lobby as the civilians fled. “Set charges in there!” Chase shouted over the clamor of the fire bells, pointing at the door from which Frost’s employees had come. “Make sure all the civvies get out first!”
“This is gonna get messy!” Starkman complained. People from the floor above were hurrying down the stairs. “If there’s any guards mixed in with the staff-”
“Then aim! You Yanks do remember how to do that, don’t you?” Chase shot Starkman a sarcastic smile before taking cover behind the desk, watching the stairs and the central corridor as the biolab employees rushed through the lobby. Scientists, technicians…
And guards! Shoving through the crowd, MP-7s coming up-
Chase hoped the civvies had the sense to keep their heads down. He fired a three-round burst, deliberately aiming high, before ducking. People screamed. MP-7 fire echoed through the lobby, the expensive marble top of the reception desk splintering as armor-piercing rounds ripped into it.
More gunfire, the deeper thudding of UMPs as Starkman and his men fired back. More screams, and the firing stopped. Chase peered over the desk, and was relieved to see that only the guards had been hit.
“You were right!” Starkman called. “That whole aiming thing really does work!”
Chase grinned, then gestured to the people on the stairs, directing them towards the doors. “Everybody out! Jason, get your guys to plant some more charges on the support columns in the garage-we can drop this whole place into the ground!”
“What about you?” asked Starkman.
Chase nodded at the central corridor. “Frost’ll have the virus in the containment area-we need to collapse the hillside and make sure it stays in there!”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll cover you. Aristides, Lime, with me-the rest of you set your charges in the basement, then get out!”
Chase checked the corridor. More people were running up it, trying to escape the building. “Come on!”
He ran into the corridor, Starkman and the others following. The men and women coming the other way reacted with predictable fear to the sight of four armed men in body armor charging towards them, and desperately tried to get out of their way, cowering by the walls.
“Get out of the building!” Chase roared. “Go!”
“We got company!” Starkman yelled, pointing down the corridor. Chase saw two uniformed men crouching behind the security post at the far end, taking aim-
He threw himself sideways as a spray of bullets flew down the corridor, cutting down one worker who had been trapped in the middle of the passage, paralyzed by his own fear and indecision.
“Shit!” Chase spat. The civilians were still scurrying helplessly across the corridor, blocking his aim, and the guards weren’t bothered about casualties among the workers.
A bloody wound burst open in the shoulder of a woman a few yards from him, bright red spots staining her face as she fell.
No choice.
He raised his UMP and fired a burst at the security station, trying not to hit any of the panicking civilians. The guards ducked as bullets cracked around them.
“Cover fire!” shouted Chase. A man tried to run past him; he grabbed him and pointed at the injured woman. “Get her out of here!” Terrified, the man nodded, then dragged the woman along the corridor.
Chase fired another burst to keep the guards occupied, then rushed down the corridor, staying to one side to give Starkman a clear angle. He jumped over a man cringing in a doorway, the heavy doors of the first airlock not far ahead.
The gunfire behind him went from three guns to two, then one as the others reloaded. Frost’s men would take that as an opportunity to pop up and start shooting back. Right on cue, one of the men sprang up from behind the counter, MP-7 at the ready-
Only to fly backwards against the wall in a spray of blood as Chase emptied his magazine into him.
Chase dived, the spent magazine ejected even before he hit the polished floor.
The second guard jumped up.
At least three seconds to reload…
The guard saw him and brought around his MP-7-
His head snapped back, a single shot from Starkman’s UMP catching him in the forehead.
Chase looked back to see the other men jogging towards him. He reloaded his gun, then got up. “Nice shot.”
“Yes, very nice,” said another voice.
Chase whirled.
Frost!
He fired at the figure on the other side of the doors at the same moment as Starkman, their UMPs now on full auto and unleashing a savage burst of firepower at the glass.
Tink. Tink.
The flattened bullets fell harmlessly to the floor at the base of the door. The transparent aluminum armor wasn’t even scuffed.
“Son of a bitch!” Starkman muttered.
Frost stepped forward. His voice emerged from a speaker below the thumbprint reader. “Mr. Chase. I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you.”
“You owed me some back pay,” said Chase, looking for a way to open the door. Maybe there was an override at the security station…
“Don’t bother,” said Frost. “This section of the lab is completely sealed. There’s no way you can get in.”
“Maybe we can’t get in, but I’m gonna make goddamn sure you don’t get out,” Starkman told him. He opened one of the packs attached to his belt and took out the contents. “CL-20. Two pounds of it. We’re gonna bring the place down on you just like you tried to do to us in Tibet.”
Frost merely smirked. “I wish you luck.” He turned his back on them and started to walk away.
“Frost!” Chase shouted. “Where’s Nina?”
Frost paused, glancing back at him. “Dr. Wilde is with my daughter. Kari persuaded me to keep her alive-she hopes to convince her to see reason and join us before the virus is released.”
“And when’ll that be?”
“In however many minutes it takes their plane to reach thirty thousand feet.” Chase and Starkman exchanged shocked looks. “Yes, it’s already happening. You’re too late, Mr. Starkman. Qobras failed to stop me, and so have you. You might want to reflect on that… before you die. Which no matter what happens will be sometime in the next twenty-four hours.” He smirked again. “Good-bye, gentlemen.” With that, he walked away. The second set of doors slammed decisively behind him.