Ripper (41 page)

Smith smirked, admiring the small geologist’s desire for vengeance. He then scanned the large facility that housed the incoming freight destined for either the vault levels or various other facilities inside the complex. As the large man passed a crate of apples, he used the folding stock of the M-14 to break the wood covering
the crate. He reached in and brought out a bright red apple and bit into it. He then gestured for one six-man team to cover the first set of elevator doors and then, as he chewed a bite of apple, pointed to another set of stainless-steel doors on the far side of the warehouse. He then tossed the apple away and, pulling Sarah along with him, walked over to the first set of doors.

“The target level
is seventeen,” he said into the microphone near his mouth. “It looks like we’ll end up at opposite ends of the level, so Team Two set up from that end and wait for my word to cover us if needed. In and out in fifteen minutes gentlemen or it will screw up our timetable.” As Sarah watched, Smith reached into his vest and brought out a small device. “How much security is on level seventeen?” he
asked Sarah.

“There’s a team of twelve heavily armed men on seventeen,” she said with a smirk, hoping to throw a kink into Smith’s plans.

Sarah tried to pull away as the elevator doors opened and the first team of six black-clothed men and Smith stepped in.

“Level please?” asked the Marilyn Monroe voice of Europa.

Smith smiled at Sarah and then clicked the on button of the small recorder,
making McIntire close her eyes in frustration. He rewound the small digital recorder to the point he wanted. He then held it up to the small Europa terminal just beside the door and pushed the play button.

“Seventeen,” Sarah’s voice said through the electronic trap he had set for her.

“Thank you Lieutenant McIntire, level seventeen. You must be aware there is a current state of emergency on
that level. Please follow supervisory procedure for entry onto the affected level.”

Smith smiled as Sarah grimaced in frustration at the way she was outsmarted.

“Level seventeen, formulas, serums, colognes, and aftershaves, all aboard,” Smith joked as he pulled a fuming Sarah McIntire in with him.

*   *   *

As the first elevator started lowering on a tube of compressed air downward into the
bowels of the Event Group Complex, the second Black Team waited for the second set of doors to open. They weren’t stupid in their method, as they didn’t want a surprise to greet them when the doors opened. They were broken up into three sets of two, covering the doors as the level indicator above signaled that the car was arriving. The one flaw in their coverage was the fact that they didn’t know
about the stairwell to the far right of the warehouse area.

Without warning and according to the “Use of deadly force is authorized for trespassing onto this federal reservation” signs they walked past with just a cursory glance, a security team of ten men led by Sergeant Jessie Sanchez, a U.S. Marine with ten years experience, opened fire on the men before they knew what was happening.

Sanchez
had been in the process of securing the facility and, as protocol dictated they not use the elevators, had entered the stairwell when the security team on the dock didn’t answer his calls. Without checking with Captain Everett, Sanchez fell back on the training he had received from Carl and Jack. Within three-and a-half seconds the six-man Black Team had been cut down with clean shots either to
the back of their heads or to their exposed necks. The sergeant was the first man to stand from behind some of the incoming freight. His ears were still ringing from the unsuppressed gunfire as he examined the dead men on the floor.

“Clear!” he said loudly as his team also stood from their positions of concealment. “Security Unit 3-5 to officer on watch. We have intruders in the complex. Over.”

Sanchez used his boot to kick one of the dead men over to examine him. He reached down and yanked the black hood from the man’s face and stood as his radio was answered.

“This is the watch officer. We have gunfire on level seventeen. Bring your unit to level sixteen and meet Captain Everett. Nellis security has been informed and the base is now shut down.”

“Roger,” he said and then gestured
to his men. “Use the elevator, we’re out of time,” he said as he ran forward and entered the car that was supposed to send the second murderous Black Team to join their comrades.

Once more, a battle was raging deep beneath the sands of the Nevada desert.

*   *   *

Henri Farbeaux was awakened by something he had heard while dozing. As he sat up in his bed he was reminded where he was by the
clinking of the handcuff on his right wrist. He shook his head to clear it of sleep when he heard what had awakened him—the sound of the complex computer system announcing the emergency on level seventeen. The larger of the two security men used his radio to check into the security center. He listened for a moment and then quickly walked over to where Farbeaux was lying. Without comment he produced
a second set of handcuffs, fastening the Frenchman’s left wrist to the bed rail. All the while Henri watched the man with bemusement.

“Uh, gentlemen, I believe that fancy computer of yours said there was a biohazard alert. Do you think maybe—”

“Now’s not the time, Colonel,” said the large air force sergeant. He looked at the marine standing and watching. “You have orders to join Sergeant Sanchez
and his team. They’re securing the complex. Meet him on level seven with your body armor,” the marine told him.

Without asking questions, the air force sergeant left the room.

“Is this necessary?” Henri asked, clanging both sets of handcuffs against the stainless-steel bedrails.

“Maybe, maybe not, but your reputation does precede you, Colonel.”

“Oh, that again, huh?” he said with the ever-present
smirk on his face.

“Always, sir, always.”

*   *   *

As the elevator fell free into the airtight tube down to level seventeen, Smith tried to contact Team Two on his radio. He tried a second and third time with the same result—static.

“It seems your security element inside the complex reacts just as fast as your gate security,” he hissed, finally allowing his frustration to show through his
hard exterior. He charged a round into his M-14 carbine and looked down at Sarah who wiped some more of the flowing blood from her mouth. She took the chance and returned Smith’s arrogant smirk. “I wouldn’t be so smug miss; you’re going to be the first one out of these doors.” Smith was now convinced his Black Team was in over its head. He had opened a hornets’ nest of highly trained men, and if
he could retreat he would. But now he had a possible hostile element in his rear. His thoughts on the situation were quick and decisive. He would continue on mission and destroy what it was he came there to destroy.

The elevator finally came to a hissing but smooth stop on level seventeen. Europa announced the location of the car as the doors slid open. Sarah was roughly pushed through the door
first, followed by two men who covered the hallway right and left. Sarah turned and looked at Smith.

“Lies always come out,” Smith said as he stepped free of the car with the other four men. “I guess your supermen can’t be everywhere at once.” He once more grabbed Sarah and pushed her against the wall. Before he could question her as to where the appropriate lab was, three people, two women and
one man, came around the bend of the white plastic corridor in a hurry to meet the evacuation deadline. Smith pushed Sarah into the waiting arms of one of his men and then raised the M-14 and shot the Event Group man in the chest, making the lab-coated women scream and look up in shock.

“What lab has the emergency?” he asked, still pointing the weapon in their direction.

The two biologists saw
Sarah being held by one of the hooded men. Then in an act of quick thinking the one nearest the wall reached for the alarm based at the Europa station. She only made it a foot before she was cut down by Smith. “I’ll ask once more,” he said angrily with the echo of his shots still ringing their ears. He was starting to think these people, whoever the hell they were, were all crazy, or they all had
been taught to be a hero.

The woman with tears in her eyes shook her head. Then, knowing what was coming, squeezed her eyes shut just as three rounds caught her in the chest and head, spraying blood on the white plastic wall just as another two men in white coats came around the corner and froze.

“No more!” Sarah shouted.

Smith ignored her, turned to the two men, and shot the one on the right,
closest to the alarm terminal. In the flashing of the red emergency lights, Sarah saw Smith aim at the other man who stood frozen to the spot.

“You better be sure miss,” he said to Sarah.

“It’s the next lab over,” she said as Smith grinned and then shot the other unsuspecting man.

“In for a dime, in for a dollar. They can only hang me once.”

“Ahhh!” Sarah screamed and pulled free of the man
holding her. She almost made it to Smith with her arms near his throat when he swung the carbine up and smashed her in the jaw, dropping her at his feet. He looked at his men and then pointed down the hallway in the direction the men and women had come from. With one look down at the unconscious Sarah, he followed the rest of the Black Team.

As they approached the laboratory area, they saw the
warning lights and the flashing biohazard sign warning them not to go any farther. Smith waved the men down, moving his right hand to the right and left of the clean room doors. He managed a quick look inside and saw a black man standing next to a tall, thin, black-haired woman. There were seven others at some very large windows and they were watching something in another part of the clean room.

As Smith was about to step back, the black man wearing a blue jumpsuit that Smith recognized as the military apparel the dock security team had been wearing turned, each man catching the other’s eyes. He recognized the man immediately as one of the men he rescued in Mexico. Smith quickly brought up his weapon and pointed it through the double-paned window. He gestured for everyone inside to raise
their hands as the rest of his team entered through the unsecured door. The black man jumped at the first man through the door. He hit as a linebacker would and they both went down. It was Smith who quickly kicked the black man in the head, sending him off and over Smith’s fallen team member.

“Next time I’ll let him kill you,” the Black Team member said to Will as he lifted himself from the floor.
Smith watched the man point the weapon down at the black man’s head and then Smith moved the barrel away angrily. “You afraid he’s going to rise and come at you again?”

The man stepped away angrily and then pushed the tall woman away as she knelt to attend Will Mendenhall.

“Which one of you is named Bannister?” Smith asked as he took in the group of eight people.

A small and light-skinned black
woman stepped forward but was pulled back by a large man in a white coat. He pulled the woman until she was behind him.

“I am Colonel Bannister. Who in the hell are you?” he asked angrily, looking from Smith to Mendenhall who hadn’t moved yet. “Can’t you see we have a situation here?”

Smith stepped forward and looked through the glass. He saw immediately what they had come to Nevada to retrieve.
The old and weathered jar was sitting between three robotic arms. It looked as if it were still sealed.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gloria said as she stepped out from behind her father. “That thing can be airborne. We are dealing with an unknown element that we haven’t identified yet.”

Smith looked from person to person. “No,” he said as he gestured for two of his men to enter the sealed room.
They tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. “The formula is called Perdition’s Fire; it can only be inhaled or digested to be effective. The unknown element you are referring to is a little something our esteemed professor Ambrose invented about a hundred years before its time. The unknown is called Lazarus Mist. It’s a compound that when added to liquid and exposed to air will fog or mist. My
superiors weren’t sure on the result, but it was listed and described in the good professor’s journals. But we did see the results in Mexico with that stupid bastard Juan Guzman. The Lazarus Mist performed pretty well I would say in creating an airborne cloud of Perdition’s Fire. Anyway ladies and gentlemen, we may have just saved you from uncorking that bottle and releasing a genie you could not
control. Now, have your safety systems unseal the clean room please.” He looked at his watch. “We are on a tight schedule.”

“No,” Colonel Bannister said.

“What is with you people?” He then aimed his weapon at the woman the large man was trying to protect.

“Europa, security override, Pollock, alpha 11-7.”

Without Europa answering Virginia’s request, the Black Team heard the click of the locks
on the clean room door pop open.

“Damn, finally someone with a little sense,” Smith said as his men entered the clean room. Smith turned to the others and waved them inside the room as well. He stationed two men by the door and gave them the eye, meaning no one gets in. “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you there is no danger as long as you cooperate.”

As they entered along with the four Men in
Black and with Smith taking up the rear, the seven CDC men and women were confused as to what was happening. Only Colonel Bannister understood the gravity of the situation. Virginia was just buying time for Carl’s security to react to what was happening. She remained silent as they were herded into the clean room.

As Smith watched, his men tried lifting the jar from the claws of the Honda robotic
arms. The first man turned and shook his head at the larger Smith. Smith shook his head, reached into his vest, and produced a small black object. He clicked a switch and a six-inch blade emerged from its handle. He walked over to the arms and then, seizing the hydraulic hoses in his free hand, swiped the knife through them, severing all three hoses to the first arm. Fluid shot out of the pressurized
system as Smith merely pushed the large arm up and out of the way. He repeated the process with the arm holding the base of the jar.