Turcotte looked at Kenyon, who had come up during the exchange. “Imagery? What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know what they might have,” Kenyon said. “But we need to see it, whatever it is.”
“All right,” Turcotte called out.
“You can’t!” Baldrick said. “It’s not what you think.”
Toland reached over and with one move withdrew the knife from Baldrick’s hand. “Next time, I won’t be so nice,” he said. Baldrick tucked his bleeding hand into his armpit. “Move and I’ll kill you,” Toland continued.
“Stand up where I can see you!” Turcotte called out. He was relieved when a man stood, a Sterling submachine gun in his hands.
“Put the weapon down,” Turcotte called out.
“You’ve got the big gun in the sky,” the man said. “All we’ve got is our personal arms. You want lo talk, we talk like we are now.”
Turcotte glanced at Kenyon, who shrugged.
“Your call,” Yakov said.
“I’ll meet you halfway,” Turcotte stood up. He let the MP-5 hang by its sling and noticed that the other man did the same with his Sterling. Turcotte walked forward — the other man doing the same — until they were five feet apart.
“I’m Toland.”
“Turcotte.”
Toland looked Turcotte up and down. “I don’t see a uniform.”
“I don’t see one either,” Turcotte replied. The other man looked ill, with the beginning of a black rash running down one side of his neck — which didn’t surprise Turcotte. Everyone out here seemed to be sick. Was sick, Turcotte amended in his mind.
“You want the imagery?” Toland asked.
Turcotte didn’t have a clue what he wanted other than answers. “Yes.” “What assurance can you give me that you’ll let me go?” Toland asked. “What assurance could I give?” Turcotte asked in turn.
Toland smiled despite his pain. “Good answer, Yank.”
Turcotte had had enough with sparring. He also was surprised at Toland. Where did the man think he was going to go now?
“You know you’re sick?” Turcotte asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Do you know how sick?”
“I’ve seen them die,” Toland said. “I know.”
“The satellite you were just at,” Turcotte said. “We think it had something to do with the disease.”
This time Toland did show surprise. “I was told it simply took some pictures.” “Who told you?”
Toland looked over his shoulder. “You say this has something to do with the disease?”
Turcotte nodded.
Toland turned. “Come with me.”
Turcotte hesitated. “I need to bring someone.”
“Who?”
“A scientist who specializes in viruses.”
“All right.”
Turcotte gestured, and Kenyon rose and joined them. Together they walked back to Toland’s group. Turcotte looked at the dead men lying there.
“This is Baldrick.” Toland pointed at the man holding a bloody hand. “He’s the one who knows what’s going on.” Toland kicked Baldrick. “Open the cases.”
“I can’t,” Baldrick said without much conviction.
Toland’s hand strayed to the knife on his web gear.
Baldrick kneeled and turned the combination knobs. He flipped the lid open. Inside sat a large metal box, battered and heat-streaked.
Kenyon looked at the box. He reached to his belt and pulled off a multipurpose tool and used the Phillips head to work on the screws holding the top on. Baldrick sat back down, nursing his wounded hand.
Kenyon flipped the top off. Inside lay sophisticated machinery.
“What is it?” Turcotte asked.
“Could it be a camera?” Toland asked.
“No.” Kenyon lifted the machine out and turned it over. He was looking it over very carefully, then pointed. “This canister.” It was as large as a gallon milk jug. “I’d say it’s the biolab.”
“Of?” Turcotte asked.
“The Black Death.”
“The Black Death?” Toland repeated.
“The virus that’s killing us.”
Toland’s eyes opened wide, and he turned to Baldrick. “You mean this thing we got. He made it?”
“He either made it or he knows who made it,” Kenyon said.
“You—” Toland was speechless. His knife was out, and he was just about at Baldrick’s throat when Turcotte intercepted him.
“Easy. We need answers from him. We need him alive.”
“I’m not talking,” Baldrick said. He glared back at Toland. “You can use your knife all you want, but I’m not going to say anything more.”
“Let’s take it back,” Turcotte ordered.
“What about safe passage?” Toland asked.
“You’re free to walk wherever you want to,” Turcotte said. He turned and headed for the bouncer.
“Can I come with you?”
“This,” Kenyon said, using a ruler to point, “is some sort of chamber in which the virus was manipulated in zero g. I can’t tell you much more without taking it apart.” He moved the ruler. “The virus was then shunted down this tube, to this holder. It must have been held there until the booster came down. Then it leaked.”
Turcotte looked at the machinery. “Then they need this supply?”
“Looks like it,” Kenyon said.
“No,” Yakov said. “They need this supply to fill all four payloads, but they have quite a bit of Black Death stockpiled from the previous two launches.” Turcotte looked up at Baldrick. He had held true to his word and said nothing since they’d boarded the bouncer and flown back to the habitat at Vilhena.
“He doesn’t seem too worried about catching the Black Death,” Yakov noted.
“Do you have a vaccine for this?” Kenyon asked. Everyone in the habitat turned and stared at Baldrick.
Baldrick simply looked away.
“We know he works for The Mission,” Toland offered.
“Where is The Mission?” Yakov asked.
Baldrick’s face was expressionless.
“He’s got to be vaccinated,” Kenyon said, “He wouldn’t have handled this,” he tapped the device from the satellite, “like he did if he wasn’t vaccinated.”
“A vaccine won’t do us much good,” Turcotte noted.
“But it will save a lot of lives,” Kenyon said. “The Black Death hasn’t finished burning yet. It hasn’t even really started.”
Turcotte walked over to Baldrick. “You need to talk to us.”
“I have an idea,” Yakov said. He walked over to the isolation box and pulled out a small plastic kit from a drawer on the side.
“What’s that?” Turcotte asked.
“You can’t—” Kenyon began, but Yakov silenced him with a glare. He opened the case and withdrew a hypodermic syringe. Then he drew out a small bottle of murky liquid, checking the label. He inserted the needle into the bottle and drew back on the plunger, filling about an inch of the clear plastic tube with the liquid. He took out another bottle and did the same.
Yakov walked over to Baldrick. “We’ve all got the Black Death. I think you’re vaccinated for it.” Yakov shook the needle. “But this — this is Marburg. It might not kill you. Fifty-fifty on that. But it’ll make you very sick even if it doesn’t.” Yakov looked at the others in the tent. “From what I know about it, Marburg seems to especially like the eyes and the testicles. Gets in there and really does — how do you say in English — a number?
“I also put Ebola in here,” Yakov continued. “So if the Marburg doesn’t kill you, the Ebola will.” He looked at Kenyon, “Have you ever seen what effect on a human the two combined has?”
Kenyon could only shake his head.