The Atlantis Gene: A Thriller

CHAPTER 118

 

Immari Research Base Prism

 

East Antarctica

 

 

“No, don’t shoot them!” Dorian yelled into the radio, but it was too late. He watched the second man take two shots to the chest, and the third fall from shots to the shoulder and abdomen. “Stop firing! I will shoot the next idiot who pulls the trigger!”

 

The gunshots ceased, and Dorian walked out into the open space toward the last man. At the sight of Dorian, he began crawling for his gun, leaving a trail of thick blood as he went.

 

Dorian jogged to the gun and kicked it to the far wall of the lab. “Stop. I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I’ll get you some help. I just want to know who sent you.”

 

“Sent me?” The man coughed, and blood ran down his chin.

 

“Yes—” Dorian’s ear piece crackled, and he looked away from the dying man.

 

One of the station techs came on. “Sir, we’ve ID’ed the men. They’re ours — one of the drill teams.”

 

“A drill team?”

 

“Yes. They’re actually the team that found the entrance.”

 

Dorian turned back to the man. “Who sent you?”

 

The man looked confused. “Nobody… sent us…”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“I saw…” The man was losing more blood now. The shot in the gut would do him in soon.

 

“Saw what?” Dorian pressed.

 

“Children.”

 

“Oh for God’s sake,” Dorian said. What was the world coming to? Even oil rig operators were bleeding-heart softies these days. He raised the gun and shot the man in the head. He turned and walked back to his Immari Security unit. “Clean this up—”

 

“Sir, something’s happening in portal control.” The soldier looked up. “Someone just launched the basket.”

 

Dorian’s eyes drifted toward the floor, then darted back and forth. “Martin. Send a team — secure the control station. No one leaves that room.” A thought ran through Dorian’s mind: the basket was launched. Kate. “How much time?”

 

“Time?”

 

“The bombs the children are carrying.”

 

The Immari security agent took out a tablet, tapped at it, then looked up, “less than fifteen minutes.”

 

She might still reach them. “Cut the cord on the basket,” Dorian said. It was a fitting end. Kate Warner — Patrick Pierce’s daughter — would die in a cold dark tunnel, just as Dorian’s brother Rutger had.

 

 

 

 

 

A. G. Riddle's books