Bodyguard Lockdown

chapter Eighteen



“Why did you let him go?”

“Because by the time he gets anywhere, this plane will be blown up,” Booker said, and quickly unlocked her cuffs. “Did you get a good look at the computer controls?”

“Yes,” She shook out her arms, rubbed her wrists, then hurried over to the console. “The lab is rigged for biological contamination. If he releases the serum, a biohazard alarm will engage.”

“Where’s the EMP shield?”

“By the radar.” She looked at the screen, saw the blips. “Three missiles are eight minutes out, Booker. They will enter the EMP zone...” She grabbed his wrist, glanced at his watch. “In two minutes.”

“Can you shut down the EMP shield?”

“Not without a ten-digit code.” She looked at the screen. “It will shut down automatically when the bomb is released to keep the tracking system from malfunctioning.”

Booker picked up Trygg’s pistol, and leveled it at the console. “Step back.”

When she did, he fired several shots.

Sparks flew; lights blinked off.

“That did it.” Sandra checked the radar. “The missiles are seven minutes out.”

“Right.” He shoved the pistol in his back waistband. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute.” Sandra grabbed the last cylinder, held it tight in her hand.

“Is that necessary?”

“Yes.” Sandra’s face was set, determined.

Booker grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close. “I know you heard a lot of information from Trygg, Doc. But don’t believe it all. Your father was on his way into this plane to destroy it with explosives. When he found out you were on board, he trusted me to save you and take care of Trygg.”

“Thanks.” She kissed him softly on the mouth. “So where are we going?”

“Cargo. Front of the plane. There are parachutes.”

“The same place where Trygg is heading?”

“Probably.”

“Is that necessary?” she asked, using his own words from a moment ago.

“Yes.”

* * *

THEY FOUND HIM AT the galley’s emergency exit. He’d looped the backpack over his chest, strapped the parachute on his back, the canister in his hand.

“Time to say goodbye, Doctor Haddad.” He jerked the latch, watched the door blow out into the air.

“Here’s your serum.” Trygg threw the canister, then jumped out of the plane.

The canister burst open at Booker’s feet. Within seconds, alarms sounded. Booker snagged the oxygen tank from the galley cupboard, pushed it onto Sandra’s face. “No!”

Her hands slapped at his arms. He grabbed her wrists, held them still.

“Listen to me! We don’t have time.” He took a breath, knowing he was breathing in a death sentence.

Sandra grabbed his shirt, hung on. “Booker! Don’t!”

“I can’t watch you die, Sandra.”

“So you’re going to make me watch you.” Tears filled her eyes, ran down her face.

“Trygg left one parachute.” Booker grabbed it from the galley closet, slipped it over her back and buckled it.

“Hold on to me. We’ll go tandem,” she pleaded. “If we get you to the hospital, I might be able to reverse the damage.”

“All right. Tandem,” he agreed. He wrapped her in his arms, hugged her close.

“I love you, Booker.” She cupped his cheek, waited.

He caught her hand and pressed it to his skin but said nothing.

“One, two, three. Go!” Booker stepped out of her arms and shoved Sandra out the open hatch.

“I love you, too, Doc,” he murmured. Without another thought, he jumped into the open air, gun in hand.

Booker dived, his arms tucked at his side. Air rushed at him. He searched for Trygg.

A parachute opened below. Trygg’s...

He hit the man in the back, rolled with him in the air. Trygg grabbed Booker’s throat. But Booker already had his hand in the backpack.

The steel of the cylinders hit his hand. He grabbed them, then shoved Trygg away with his knees.

Trygg scrambled for balance, but he was too late.

Booker reached into his pocket, flipped the safety and hit the remote button.



Trygg exploded into a fireball.

Booker spread his arms, catching wind, and shot up. Suddenly, Sandra appeared, grabbed him midair.

He looped his arms into her straps and nodded.

She pulled the toggle and the chute popped open.

“Don’t you dare die on me, McKnight!”

Booker took the impact of the touchdown. Both grappled for a moment against the wind shear and the parachute. He pulled the cord, releasing the chute across the desert.

“Hold on, Booker. They’ll find us and I’ll figure out how to save you.”

“Doesn’t matter now, Doc,” Booker answered, suddenly tired. “You’re safe. Trygg’s dead.”

* * *

IT TOOK THREE HOURS for the helicopter to find them. An hour of which Booker lay unconscious in Sandra’s arms.

She’d never felt so helpless in her life.

Finally, the spotlight hit her. She waved her arms. “Hurry,” she whispered, knowing they couldn’t hear her over the helicopter’s blades.

As soon as it settled, Quamar and Aaron jumped from its cockpit.

“I need a stretcher!” Sandra screamed. Aaron turned back, waved at two men in the helicopter.

“What happened?”

“He breathed in the nanites.”

“Then there’s nothing we can do, Sandra,” Quamar said quietly.

“I can save him, Quamar,” Sandra insisted. “It wasn’t the serum that killed Booker’s wife. It was the nanites. Pitman skewed the programming to cause damage. I just need to find someone who is experienced in reprogramming the nanites.”

“Kate MacAlister is in Taer. She flew in to take charge of disaster protocol, just in case the CIRCDIAN was released.” Quamar took his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll have her meet us at the hospital.”

It took another hour to reach the hospital. “His pulse is weak,” Aaron stated, coming up on the women. He and Quamar handed Booker over to the waiting interns. “His breathing is erratic. I gave him oxygen.”

“He’s fighting the onslaught. The body is moving into a self-induced coma,” Sandra explained, her tone urgent.

Kate MacAlister met them at the main entrance. “We have the surgery room ready. Number two.”

“Thank you.” Sandra waved two nurses to her side. “I need two interns. And the patient prepped. I want him ready when we’re done. No medication. Nothing. Not even for the pain. They’ll interfere with my nanites.”

Two interns carried Booker down the hallway on the stretcher. She turned to Kate. “It’s over four hours.”

“How many hours do we have?”

“Twelve more. Outside. Before the damage is irreparable.” Sandra turned to the older woman. “I know I don’t deserve your help, but Booker needs it...” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”

“Forgiven. Years ago.” Kate gave her a swift hug. “Now what do you need me to do?”

“The nanites. They were the defective part of the procedure,” Sandra explained. “The flaw was in Pitman’s design. If we make the corrections, I can counteract the bad nanites with good nanites that match Booker’s DNA.”

“A war of nanites in his body?” Kate asked. “Will he survive that?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “But he won’t survive otherwise.”

“Is Trygg’s lab still intact?” Kate asked.

“No.”



“We need access to a nanite lab,” Kate said, thinking. “Nearest is London.”

“Just so happens I know the Prime Minister,” Quamar said grimly. “Jordan Beck.”

“That will work,” Kate said urgently. “Still, it will be close.”

“I’ll get started on the DNA matching,” Sandra insisted. “Once his organs start shutting down, they might not be strong enough to counter and survive the battle.”



“He’ll need blood. And a lot of it,” Kate insisted.

“His blood type is rare,” Sandra remembered. “Call ahead, Quamar, tell them we need AB negative.”

“And if they don’t have enough on hand?” Quamar warned.

Aaron stepped up, his features set. “He can have all he wants of mine.”

“AB negative?” Sandra demanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron replied. “And this one is on the house.”