CHAPTER 88
CDC
Atlanta, Georgia
Paul Brenner walked to the Symphony control room. The feeling around the room was jubilation. Two flashing words on the center screen read:
ONE RESULT
They had a new gene therapy for the Atlantis Plague. A new hope.
“Do it,” Paul said. “Deploy it across all the districts. Upload the data to all our affiliates.”
He raced down the hall and burst into his nephew’s hospital room.
The boy lay still. He didn’t turn to face Paul. He was only semi-conscious.
But there was still time, Paul thought.
At the lobby that led to the Catacombs of St. Paul, Kate Warner leaned back from the table, wondering what else she could do.
The figure that flew out of the tunnel was a blur. Kate spun, but it was too fast. It bowled Kamau out of the chair. The assault rifle clanged to the ground as the two figures rolled across the floor, into one of the museum’s glass display cases. Kamau struck the figure, but Kate could see that he was disoriented, blind, bewildered. He would never make it.
Kate staggered forward and raised the handgun.
They writhed violently on the ground. Kate tried to get a lock on the other figure. Some part of her knew it was Shaw, but she didn’t want it to be true. She’d suffered betrayal by someone she’d trusted once before; she’d sworn she wouldn’t let that happen again. Shaw had saved her in Marbella. But…
The figure rose from Kamau, a knife in his hand. Blood flowed out onto the white marble floor. Kamau twitched a few times, then came to rest.
The figure turned to face Kate.
Shaw.
Kate squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
The gun felt like a solid block of steel. Why didn’t it fire? She glanced at it, but Shaw was upon her. He snatched the gun out of her hand.
“It’s not in you, Kate. Be glad of that. The safety saved you more than it did me.”
The door across the lobby opened. Dorian Sloane strolled through it. The four men that followed him ran in, taking up positions around the lobby, two flanking the entrance to the tunnel.
“Where the hell have you been?” Shaw demanded.
“Relax,” Dorian said casually. “Car trouble.” He scanned the room. “Vale?”
“In the tunnels,” Shaw said.
Dorian nodded to the soldiers flanking the entrance.
“No,” Shaw said. “There’s only one way out.” He took a small box from his pocket and clicked a button. Eruptions echoed from the tunnels, like rolling thunder growing closer. He looked up at Dorian. “Make that no way out.”
Dorian smiled. “It’s good to see you, little brother.”
David heard the explosions before he felt them at his back. The ceiling was coming down.
He could see Milo in his peripheral vision, lying there, lifeless. He dove for the boy, covering his body with his own.
The stones fell around him and on him. It was like before, twelve years ago, in New York, on that day—when she had died, when he had rushed in, when the buildings had collapsed, burying him.
But this was different. He was saving a life—Milo’s.
The stone fell around him, echoing in his ear. Milo’s body felt so fragile under his. Would Milo survive?
Another stone slammed into David’s body and he winced. And another—into his leg. The pain was complete, but he didn’t move. He remained, waiting for the end.
It came, but it was not what he expected. A dome of light, covering him, arching over, blocking the falling rock. Still, David didn’t move.
Kate glared at Dorian. “I won’t help you. We already have a cure.”
Dorian’s smile grew, like someone who knew a secret. “Oh, Kate, you don’t disappoint. I could care less about a cure. I’m here for the code in your head.”
“I don’t have—”
“You will. You will remember, and then we’ll have what we need.”
One of Dorian’s men grabbed her and dragged her out of the museum lobby.