In the meantime, he’d have a look at the computer himself.
The security system was off the shelf, and easy to break. He had a list of back doors in use by major software companies, and keyed his way through the password screen in less than five seconds. After that, things became a little involved.
Like most computers, and computer users, whoever had been using this one hadn’t bothered to really organize his data. That meant that coming at the system cold like Joshua was wasn’t really the easiest thing to do.
Sometimes the best security could be as simple as not putting anything where one might reasonably expect to find it. Especially when one had to dig through several terabytes of information.
Joshua could have keyed in a search, if he had the slightest clue of what he was looking for, but he didn’t so he clicked open the `Documents’ directory and started there.
He was skimming through a treatise on genetic engineering when his Portable finished its transfer and gave him a list of likely uses for the equipment around him.
Joshua blinked when he saw the first item on the list.
Level Three Biological Containment Facility.
Oh, that can’t be good.
Don’t panic, Joshua caught himself, the sudden lurch in his stomach twisting him hard in place.
He knew more than a little about Bio-warfare, more than most people to be sure, and he knew that the odds were overwhelmingly against any kind of truly effective bio-weapon on site. To be sure, a Level Three Vector wasn’t something he wanted to be playing around with, but generally speaking biological vectors made poor weapons.
Unless you’re a terrorist.
Joshua shook his head, pushing the thought back, and focused on the lab around him. One thing he knew, without doubt, was that it was NOT a proper level three environment. If it had been, he wouldn’t have been able to get this far without recognizing the signs.
In fact, the majority of the precautions appeared to be Level One, with a few Level Two precautions that he could pick out.
The single Level Three containment precaution he could see was a ventilated hood that had access ports built so that a man could insert his hands into thick rubberized gauntlets to manipulate a secured sample within.
All of which told Corvine that whatever they were using the lab for, it was almost certain that they were not operating with appropriate precautions, which meant that he was in over his head, and it was just getting deeper and deeper.
He picked his Portable off the desk and keyed in a Ping command, hitting the CPU of the computer in front of him with a query command. The built in Wi-Fi circuits activated under his governmental codes and he requested a total Drive Dump to his portable.
It was time to get out of here and hunker down somewhere he could wait for the cavalry to come charging over the ridge.
“Hey!”
Corvine jerked around, staring at the man who’d appeared behind him, a man who was looking at him with about as much surprise as Joshua imagined he himself had on his face.
“Who are you!”
Corvine’s free hand dropped to his belt, where his Nine Millimeter Long was supposed to be resting comfortably, but it wasn’t there and he cursed himself for leaving it behind. He hadn’t really imagined that he’d penetrate quite this deeply into a facility quite this secure, and being able to play act the `lost tourist’ had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Now, though, he doubted it would fly.
The man took a step toward him, uncertainty in his face, as if he wasn’t actually certain that Corvine was actually out of place.
Joshua’s mind raced, running the numbers on automatic while he tried to think of a way to capitalize on that uncertainty, but before he could the man glanced down at the computer, then over at Corvine’s Portable, and seemed to come to a conclusion.
He started back a step, his hand coming down to a pistol that rested openly on his belt.
Corvine stopped thinking and moved.
Twenty years and forty three pounds earlier, Corvine had been rated Expert in various armed and unarmed styles, and had even taught courses in Close Quarters Hand to Hand at Quantico while on loan to the FBI and Homeland Security for a couple years. Since then he’d gone soft though, and he knew it.
That’s why he didn’t screw around with the guy as the man’s hand came down to the gun on his hip. Joshua stepped in faster than his physical size would seem imply he was capable of, and he hit the man hard in the sternum with a low jab that flowed out from his shoulder.
He man gasped, the air forced out of his lungs, but tried to grab a hold of Joshua’s arm and throat as he started to keel over.
Joshua’s hand snapped up, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from his throat, twisting hard back and pulling the man up from where he was bending over. The pain in his arm caused him to hiss, but Joshua didn’t let up. He snapped it back, and the arm made a popping sound as the man’s shoulder gave way before he did.
The man tried to scream, the pain from the shoulder overriding everything else, but he still had no air in his lungs to power the cry. Joshua kept pushing the arm back until the man’s feet came out from under him and he fall back. The CIA man followed his foe to the ground, grinding his entire two hundred and forty eight pound frame into the shocked figure as they both slapped to the ground with a meaty thud and sickening crack.
The entire fight took less than eight seconds.
The stairwell took him by surprise.
Anselm Gunnar double checked the plans he’d gotten from Interpol, checking the Tower Facility for a fifth time, and came up with the same results. That damned stairwell wasn’t supposed to be there.
The Director’s office was supposed to be a `Cul de sac’, so to speak.
It wasn’t.
That meant that a whole lot of things had just gone right out the proverbial window.
Anselm looked down the harshly lit stairwell, hesitating. He wanted to know what was down there, Good God did he want to know, but he wasn’t convinced that it was a remotely wise idea to find out just now.
His portable didn’t detect and security WAN transmissions, which made him suspicious right off the mark, plus he knew that there was the unknown individual down there ahead of him, doing God alone knew what.
Counter balancing that, though, was the very real fact that there was every chance that he might find the final piece to the entire puzzle down there.
To know what Abdallah Amir was doing here in Tower City, Why he’d apparently drawn in a number of other known and wanted terrorists from a variety of `movements’ here, and who else was involved.
All questions that burned in the Interpol Agent, and ones he desperately needed the answers to.
Softly, and slowly at first, Anselm let himself down the stairwell, always listening ahead as he undid the top of his jacket and let it flap open just enough so that his FN FiveseveN Magnum was within easy reach.
Something told the cop that at the bottom of this stairwell was enemy territory, and anyone that he found there, or anyone that found him, wasn’t going to be overly happy to see him.
Joshua was panting from the exertion as he pulled the man’s gun from his holster, checking the unmoving body for a moment to make sure that the man was unconscious before he slowly and painfully climbed to his feet.
He winced halfway up, his free hand going around to his back.
God, I’ve been too old for this for over a decade, The CIA Agent moaned silently, easing himself straight up as he cast about for his Portable.