Operation: Midnight Tango (11 page)

“What were those two men doing with guns in a veterinary pharmaceutical firm?” Emily whispered as they stepped back into the hall.

“I’ll bet the farm this place doesn’t have a damn thing to do with veterinary medicine.”
And everything to do with chemical weapons and Lockdown, Inc.,
he thought darkly.

They passed an elevator. The bell dinged, warning them of the arrival of someone else on the floor.
“Damn, this place is busy at this hour,” Zack muttered. Grabbing Emily’s arm, he darted toward an Exit sign at the end of the hall. He pushed open the door, and they slipped into the darkened stairwell just as two men stepped off the elevator.

“That was close,” he said.

“Too close. How are we going to find what we’re looking for?” She was breathing hard. Even in the darkness, Zack could see that she was an inch away from panic. “We don’t even know where to begin.”

“Take it easy, Emily.”

“Take it easy? This place is crawling with men toting guns and you’re telling me to take it easy?”

Zack didn’t like seeing her so shaken. He sure didn’t like seeing her afraid. Not tough-talking Emily Monroe who’d been ready, willing and damn near able to take him down when he’d accosted her in the Bitterroot infirmary.

“Nobody knows we’re here yet,” he said. “We’ve got a few minutes. Let’s use those minutes wisely, see what we can find, then we’ll get the hell out of Dodge, okay?”

A breath shuddered out of her, then she nodded. “Okay.”

He motioned toward the stairs he assumed would take them to the basement. “I’m betting the file room is in the basement.”

“How do you know that?”

“People like window offices.”

They took the steps two at a time, their boots nearly silent on the concrete. The basement was
quiet and cold and dark. A single red Exit light shone at the end of a long hall. “I’ll take the doors on the right,” Zack whispered. “You take the ones on the left. If you find one unlocked, let me know and we’ll go in together.”

Emily nodded and they went to work. Zack was almost all the way down the hall and thinking the entire operation was going to be a bust when the knob he tried twisted and the door swung open. “I’m in,” he said, then walked inside.

The room was large, with low ceilings and crowded with file cabinets of all shapes and sizes. Tiny ground-level windows offered stingy light from outside. It would have to do. The first file cabinet Zack tried was locked. Frustration burned through him. He tried another, found it locked, as well. Cursing beneath his breath, he looked around for something to break the locking mechanism with.

“I think I found something.”

He glanced over to see Emily leaning over a battered desk piled high with brown expandable folders. A plastic sign on the in-box read: To Be Filed. Zack felt a grin emerge. Even companies with something to hide had file clerks that didn’t get all their work finished by the end of the day.

He crossed to the desk. Emily had emptied a folder onto its scarred wooden surface and was looking through papers. “This one was labeled Lockdown, Inc.,” she said.

Excitement coursed through Zack as he pulled the flashlight from his coat and shone it on the file.
After reaching dead end after dead end, he had thought the excursion hopeless. Hopefully this would prove him wrong.

“Looks like someone’s notes. Some scientist or researcher.” Emily lowered herself into the desk chair. “They’re in order by the date in the upper right-hand corner of the page. See?”

“Keep going.” Zack’s heart had begun to pound.

“They mention ‘mortality rate’ here.” She set her finger against the handwritten notes. “‘Subcutaneous hemorrhage. Severe irritation of mucous membranes.’”

“Hell.”

“What’s RZ-902?”

At the mention of RZ-902, Zack could feel sweat breaking out beneath his arms. “I believe you just found what we were looking for.”

Nudging her aside, he looked down at the notes and began to read. Dread built inside him at the words scrawled on the page.

The testing phase of RZ-902 is more successful than planned. Mortality rate stands at 98.1 percent. Fatal outcome from the moment of introduction is 4.2 minutes. It is the opinion of the study that RZ-902 is ready for mass production, the first phase of which will take less than two weeks, depending on delivery of supplies. The final product will be ready for market by the end of the month.

Zack almost couldn’t comprehend what he was reading. He’d seen a lot of horrific things in the years he’d worked for MIDNIGHT. He’d met more
than his share of ruthless human beings, men and women who would stoop to any level for money or power or some combination of the two. But in all his years of working undercover he’d never encountered true evil.

Until now.

“Zack, what is it?”

He didn’t even realize he was leaning heavily against the desk. That he was breathing heavily. And shaken to his core. He raised his gaze to Emily’s. He wondered how such a good woman could be tangled up in such a god-awful mess. Then he remembered he was the one who’d dragged her into this. That now it was up to him to keep her safe.

The same way you kept Alisa safe?

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said.

“What are you talking about? We’ve just found what we’ve been looking—”

“Don’t ask any more questions. Let’s go.”

“Zack, you’re scaring me.”

Without looking at her or speaking he began gathering the papers as quickly as he could, grabbing the ones he thought would be most useful, leaving the rest.

“My God, you’re shaking.” She touched his arm, drawing his gaze. “Talk to me? What is this?”

“RZ-902,” he said, grinding out the words. “They’ve finished the testing. Weeks ahead of schedule.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“That means that Lockdown, Inc. and Signal Re
search and Development stand to make a hell of a lot of money from anyone willing to pay the price. Terrorists. Dictators. Any demented son of a bitch who wants to wipe out a city anywhere in the world will be able to do that if he gets his hands on this poison.”

“My God.” She blanched. “What do we do now?”

“I’m going to grab as many of these notes as I can carry, then we’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Zack, we have to stop this. I’m not leaving until—”

In an instant he had her against the desk, his hands wrapped around her arms, his face inches from hers. “You’re not going to do a damn thing. This is my mission. My problem. As of now you’re out of it.”

“I’m going to finish this.”

“We’re going to walk out of here, then I’m taking you to the police.”

“How do you know the police aren’t in on this?”

Zack stared at her, knowing he was making a fatal mistake. Knowing he was acting on emotion and not the logic he’d always prided himself on possessing. He knew he couldn’t turn her over to the police. What he needed to do was contact MIDNIGHT and figure out who the mole was. He could no longer handle this on his own. He needed the agency’s help. But first they had to get the hell out of this godforsaken facility.

Feeling frustrated and more frightened than he
wanted to admit, Zack released her, then looked down at the papers spread out on the desk. “Damn it.”

Emily reached for the papers, but Zack stopped her. He knew it was stupid, but he didn’t want her touching anything even remotely related to RZ-902. If they got caught, her only hope of coming out of this alive was if she convinced them Zack had taken her hostage.

He was in the process of stuffing the papers into the waistband of his trousers when, without warning, the door to the office swung open. Zack caught a glimpse of a male silhouette. The beam of a flashlight. Soundlessly he moved toward Emily, wrapped his arms around her and took her down to the floor.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered.

“Who’s there?” a male voice called out. “Show yourselves or I’m going to start shooting.”

He was so close to Emily, he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her breath on his cheek. He sensed the fear coming off her. She was beginning to hyperventilate. If her breathing got any louder, the man would surely hear her….

The flashlight beam skimmed over the top of the desk, which was the only thing keeping them from certain discovery.

“What now?” she whispered.

“I believe the scientific term for it is
running.
” Pulling back slightly, he gave her a smile. “On my cue we’re going to run for the door.”

“What cue?”

“You’ll know.” He couldn’t manage a smile this
time. The tension was tightening around his body like a knot. If anything happened to this woman, he would never forgive himself.

Taking one last look at her face, he shifted slightly, shoved his hand into the satchel at his belt and took out his remaining concussion grenade. He’d been saving it as a last resort for an emergency situation. He figured this qualified.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he pulled the clip, silently counted to three, then tossed it in the general direction of the man’s voice. The grenade hit the floor with a dull thud and rolled.

“What the hell is—”

The blast shook the room, temporarily deafening him. Smoke billowed, pitching them into complete darkness. Zack jumped up and pulled Emily to her feet. “Run!” he commanded.

Zack and Emily streaked across the room and burst into the hall. Dim light and fresh air met them. Zack’s ears were ringing, but he could still hear shouting coming from down the hall. Flashlight beams slashed through the darkness. His fear notched up when he realized a group of men had heard the blast and were approaching at a very fast pace.

“This way!” he whispered and pulled her back into the room.

Once inside, he turned and locked the door. The grenade had done its job, filling the room with thick black smoke. The man stumbled about, bumping into furniture. “Who’s there?” he shouted.

Then a single gunshot split the air. Cursing, Zack
shoved Emily in the general direction of the farthest window. There was no way the man could see them. But he could get off a lucky shot.

“What are you
doing?
” Emily cried when they reached the window.

“You’re going out that window.” Not waiting for a response, Zack picked up a nearby stool and shattered the glass. “Go!” Lifting her, praying she could avoid any glass he’d missed, he shoved her toward the window.

Small-framed, she wriggled through the opening with relative ease. Once she was through, Zack stepped onto the stool. Behind him he could hear pounding on the door. Shouts coming from the hall. He knew the security personnel were equipped with radios. It would only be a matter of seconds before they realized their mysterious intruders had slipped out of the building.

Zack forced his body through the window, the glass breaking beneath his weight, the sharp edges scraping against the fabric of his coat. He felt a shard pierce his left hand, but the pain barely registered over his growling fear. If he got stuck, both of them were as good as dead.

Then he was through the window, on his hands and knees in the snow. The night embraced him like a cold but dear friend.

“Oh, my God. You’re bleeding.”

Zack looked down to see blood dripping from his hand. “As long as it’s not from a bullet, I’m not going to worry about it.” Scrambling quickly to his
feet, he scanned the area. They’d come out on the west side of the building. Twenty yards away two four-wheel-drive vehicles sat rumbling in the parking lot, exhaust billowing into the frigid night air.

“We need a vehicle,” he said.

“I don’t think we’re going to—”

Emily’s words were cut off when a bullet slammed into the brick less than a foot from where she was standing. Zack heard her yelp. He saw her hand shoot up to her cheek. Worry tore through him when he saw blood, thought she’d been shot.

“Emily!”

“I’m…okay,” she said. “Piece of brick caught me.”

Zack looked over his shoulder to see the spotlight mounted on the rear of one of the four-wheel-drive trucks sweep toward them. There was no time to steal a vehicle.

Taking Emily’s hand, he pulled her into a dead run toward the hole he’d cut earlier in the fence.

If their luck held, they might just make it out alive.

Chapter Nine

Emily ran as she had never run before. She ran until her legs burned. Until she thought her lungs would burst into flames. Just when she thought she could go no farther, another wave of adrenaline pumped her forward. They ran over fields blanketed with deep snow. Through forests dense with trees and brush. Down ravines riddled with loose rock. Over ice and through fast-moving water.

Emily ran until her body literally gave out. In a small gully filled with sapling pine her legs tangled, and she was flung facedown into two feet of snow.

For several long seconds all she could do was suck oxygen into her burning lungs. She saw Zack collapsing onto the snow beside her, heard his heavy breathing punctuated by the frenzied pound of her own heart.

Slowly their breathing began to regulate and she became aware of the sound of rushing water in the distance. Of an owl hooting from a tree. The wind turning the winter branches into bony fingers reach
ing for a black sky. Of Zack rising, grumbling as he brushed the snow from his coat and pants.

Emily rolled over and struggled shakily to her feet. “If I live through this, I’m not going to have to go to the gym for a month.”

Zack’s gaze met hers. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked as downtrodden as she’d ever seen him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I dropped the papers. The notes.” Cursing viciously, he slapped some more snow from his coat. “I had them in my hand, but when that bastard started shooting…” Shaking his head angrily, he set his hand against a nearby tree and leaned. “
Damn
it.”

Emily knew it was pointless to get angry. But she was exhausted and cold and more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Before realizing she was going to move, she was across the snow and jamming her finger into his chest.