Pale Horse (A Project Eden Thriller) (23 page)

Ryan put a hand on the side. Reluctantly, Sean did the same. The hum that he heard matched the vibration coming through his protective glove. There was no way to describe it other than it felt evil. He could leave his hand there for only a couple of seconds before pulling it away.

“I’ll go this way,” he said to Ryan, nodding to his left. “Meet you on the other side.”

Heading in opposite directions, they circled the container, looking for a way to gain access to the inside. The only thing Sean found were the doors at the short end. Like the other containers in the reports they’d received, the doors had an odd-looking lock system. No one, apparently, had been able to break through it yet—at least not without setting off the explosives inside.

“Anything?” he asked Ryan when they met up in the back.

“Nothing that I could see.”

“I’ll give the door a try, just in case, but we’ll probably have to go in through the top.”

“I agree,” Ryan said.

“Dani, you got that, right?”

“Got it,” she said. “Just be careful, okay?”

“If we were careful, we’d be sitting out there with you.”

“Be as careful as you can, then.”

While Ryan scoped out the easiest route to the top, Sean went back around to the door on the short side. He gave the handle a try first, but it didn’t move. He examined the lock next, hoping to discover some way of disengaging it. As he ran his hand along the backside of the device, the hum and vibration began to fade.

“What did you do?” Ryan asked.

Sean jumped back from the container. “Nothing. Just trying to open the door.”

The hum dropped lower and lower in both tone and volume.

“What’s going on?” Dani asked.

“It, uh, sounds like it’s shutting down,” Ryan told her.

“You mean, you did it?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Sean said. “I tried the door, but others have done that, too, and nothing happened then.”

“Maybe our container’s different,” she suggested.

“I guess it could be,” Sean said, but he didn’t believe it. Why would it be?

Ryan popped around the corner. “Help me get up on top. I want to take a look inside.”

“Use the door,” Sean suggested. With the brackets and hinges, it was as close to a ladder as they could get.

Ryan climbed up and looked over the side.

“Yeah. It’s off,” he said, not hiding his surprise. “I don’t know how, but it is.”

Sean wanted to see, too, so he climbed up at the other corner.

The two big fans sat side by side, aimed at the sky. Their blades were spinning more and more slowly until they came to a full stop.

“I think I can get down there,” Sean said.

If he was careful, he could maneuver through the blades. Below them on his side was an empty area more than wide enough for him to fit in.

“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” Dani said.

“Not sure it is, either,” Sean said, “but under the circumstances, if I can find out what happened, maybe we can use that to turn off the other ones.”

The radio remained silent for a moment, then Dani said, “You’re clear to go in.”

He glanced at Ryan. “You’ll have to help me.”

Ryan stretched out along the edge above the door, and held out his hand. Sean grabbed it, and lowered himself through the fan. For a second he worried that it would turn back on and cut him in half, but it remained as dead as it looked. Once his feet hit the bottom, he let go of Ryan and took a look around.

Most of the container seemed to be filled with large barrels that must have held the virus. He tapped on one and was surprised by the echo. It was empty.

Well, of course, that made sense. The box had been dispersing its contents for quite a while now, so some of the barrels would have to be empty. He knocked on the ones next to it. They, too, echoed back.

Frowning, he examined them for a moment, then used a small pair of cutters from his belt to hack through the tubes connected to the top of the first barrel.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.

Instead of answering, Sean cut the final tube, and tried to rock the barrel back and forth. Because of all the barrels on the other side, and the two metal straps that ran across the width of the container on his side, it didn’t move much.

“Hand me your bolt cutters,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just pass them down!”

Ryan handed him the large cutters. Sean got the tool’s jaw around the edge of the upper strap and bit into it. It took him a few minutes, but he was able to cut the strap in two. He bent the sides out of the way. The lower strap proved easier to slice through, and he was able to part it in about half the time.

No longer restrained, he yanked the barrel into the open space where he was standing, and squeezed around it into the spot where it had been. From there, he used the cutters to knock on all the barrels in the second row. Once he finished, he moved things around until he could reach the third row, then the row after that, and the row after that.

When he was done with the final row, he took a deep breath.

“Dani,” he said. “I know why it turned off.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t anything we did. The damn thing is empty.”

__________

T
HE CONTAINER IN
Dublin was not the first to shut off, nor was it the last. The first occurred in Wellington, New Zealand, in the parking lot of a small shopping center, precisely fifteen minutes before the one in Dublin. The last was twenty-seven minutes after Dublin, in Hawaii on the island of Oahu, just four blocks away from Waikiki Beach.

A few of the containers had experienced misfires on certain barrels. The operating software had been designed to skip over these and move on to the next. For the most part, though, the contents of each IDM had been delivered in full.

26

LAS CRUCES, NEW MEXICO

3:38 PM MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME

P
EREZ WAS NOT
surprised by anything in the president’s speech.

The nature of the virus was bound to be discovered. But so what? No one would live long enough to develop a vaccine, let alone mass produce it in the quantities needed. And when the president said they would continue to try to find a way to turn off the IDMs, it might have sounded good, but in reality it meant next to nothing. By then, ninety-five percent of the virus had already been released, more than enough to achieve the Project’s goals.

And now the containers were all off, causing even more concern and speculation around the world.

As far as he was concerned, the more panic the better
.

Perez had shaken his head at Homeland Security’s list of suggested safety measures—seal off doors and windows, avoid contact with anyone not in the home with you, take frequent showers and wash hands every thirty minutes, and on and on and on. Measures that, along with the twenty-four-hour curfew that would be nearly impossible to enforce, might have worked if they’d gone into effect
before
the IDMs went active.

But not now. The end was coming.

There was a single knock on his door, and Claudia stuck her head in. “Dr. Lassiter would like to speak with you.”

Perez smiled.
Excellent
. The doctor had saved him the effort of making the call himself.

“Video?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Claudia.”

As she left, he activated the video chat on his computer.

Dr. Lassiter looked stressed and tired.

“Good afternoon, Doctor. How can I help you?” Perez said.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of Patricia Nakamura for several hours with no success. The last time I called, a man I’ve never seen before came on and told me she was no longer with NB89.
With
, not at. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Of course I do.”

The doctor waited, but when Perez didn’t add anything, he said, “Then you need to tell me. I’m the acting chairman of the council.”

“Patricia Nakamura is dead.”

“What?” Whatever explanation Dr. Lassiter had been expecting, that was not it.

“She was a problem and had to be removed.”

“You had her
killed
?”

“An unfortunate necessity, but one my men handled efficiently.”

“Your men?”

“Project Eden Security.”

“Those are our men.
My
men!” He paused. “Mr. Perez, I am placing you under arrest. You are to go to your quarters and—”

“Dr. Lassiter,” Perez cut in. “I think I need to correct you on something you said earlier. You are no longer acting chairman of the council. That position has been dissolved, and the council itself has been transitioned into an advisory role for the Project’s principal director.”

“The principal director? He’s alive?”

Perez smiled. “Yes. I would say the director is alive and well.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“But I believe you’re confusing things again. The former PD that you’re thinking of is undoubtedly dead. I, on the other hand, am not.”

“You? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not the PD and you never will be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Doctor. I’ve been in contact with nearly every Project facility, and it has been decided that this part of our plan needs a strong leader. A role, I’m sorry to say, you are not fit to fill. They have all agreed with my decision to take over.” It wasn’t completely true. While he had been in contact with most bases, he hadn’t actually asked for any endorsements. He just told them he would be the one running this phase of the Project, and they had gone along with it, as he knew they would. When it came time for the next phase and he was still in charge, they’d go along with that, too.

“I don’t believe any of it,” the doctor said. “You are to step down, and break off all contact with the rest of the Project.”

“Now, Doctor,” Perez said, his voice dripping with faux compassion, “I think you’re forgetting that the security forces answer to me now. And if I tell them to, they will pay you the same type of visit they paid to former council member Nakamura.”

“You wouldn’t,” the doctor said, but the look in his eyes was not confident.

“You do have another choice,” Perez said. “It would please me if you serve on the advisory council. People would still see you as a person of influence. Now, of course this means you would back any decision I make, but that seems preferable to a bullet in the back of the head, wouldn’t you say?”

“I…I…”

“I have a team within five minutes of your location. I could call them now, if you’d like.”

“No,” the doctor said quickly. He stared at his keyboard for several seconds. “Can I…can I at least think about the offer?”

“Of course. I’ll give you sixty seconds.”

It took the doctor only twenty-one.

27

SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS, CALIFORNIA

7:53 PM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

C
ONTRARY TO WHAT
Martina’s mother had thought, their satellite radio was just as ineffective at the cabin as it had been when they were driving up the ravine. They had also tried the regular broadcast radios—the one that was part of the old ’70s-era stereo in the cabin and the one in the Webers’ car—but all they picked up was static. Cell phones were useless, too, not even a single bar of signal, so the two families were completely cut off.

The afternoon had been spent taking stock of what they had, then playing a tense game of Monopoly organized by the two moms to distract their children. But after only thirty minutes, everyone gave up. There was no ignoring what was going on.

“How long are we going to have to stay here?” Laurie, Riley’s twin sister, asked.

“There’s no way to know that yet, honey,” her mom said.

“We’ll stay as long as we need to,” her father added in a voice sharper than needed.

“This place is so…boring. What are we supposed to do?” Laurie asked.

“Sweetie, it’ll be okay,” her mother told her. “You can read, play games, go for a walk.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Martina’s father cut in. “We don’t want others to know we’re here.”

“Ken, a walk won’t hurt,” Martina’s mother said. “There’s probably no one within a mile of us.”

“We can’t know that for sure, and we don’t have any more room for anyone else.” His eyes strayed to Mr. Weber as he finished.

“So we have to stick around the cabin? That’s even worse!” Laurie said. Unlike Riley, she was more social, and used to hanging out with her friends, talking about stupid things Martina had never been interested in.

“That’s enough,” Mr. Weber said. “You know why we’re here. I don’t want you causing any problems.”

“I
don’t
know why we’re here,” Laurie countered. “Because of some stupid things on TV? Seriously, Dad, I bet we’re all going to look like idiots.”

“Enough,” her father said again.

She glared at him, her lips pressed tightly together, then stood up. “Not talking about it doesn’t mean it’s not stupid!” She disappeared down the hallway that led to the bathroom and the cabin’s two bedrooms.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Weber said, an embarrassed smile on her face. “She’s just…”

“A teenager?” Martina’s mom suggested.

Mrs. Weber looked relieved. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Hey, we’re teenagers, too,” Pamela said.

Her mother patted her on the leg, and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Yes, but you all understand what’s going on and can deal with it.”

“I’m going out to get some fresh air,” Riley whispered to Martina. “Wanna come?”

Martina nodded, and the two girls climbed to their feet.

“Where are you going?” Mr. Weber asked.

“To check out the snow,” Martina said.

Donny jumped up. “Hey, I want to check out the snow, too.”

“It’s going to be cold.”

“I don’t care.”

Martina glanced at Riley, who shrugged that it was okay with her.

“All right,” Martina said to Donny. “Come on. Anyone else?”

There were no other takers.