The Atlantis Plague (18 page)

“And now?”

“About six thousand.”

“How many would fight with us?”

“Not many. I would trust no more than a dozen with my life. And we will be asking for their lives.”

A dozen to fight six thousand. Losing odds at best. David needed an angle, some fulcrum to change the dynamic.

“What do you need, David?”

“Right now, some rest. Can you hold Rukin off, keep him from figuring out who I am?”

“Yes, but not for long.”

“Thank you. Come back at oh-six-hundred, Captain.”

Kamau nodded and left.

David climbed into bed. For the first time since he had walked out of the tube, he felt confident, grounded. He knew why: he had an objective now, a mission to complete and an enemy to defeat. That felt good. Sleep came quickly.

CHAPTER 38

Immari Sorting Camp
Marbella, Spain

The Immari soldiers had directed Kate and the other survivors who had pledged to one of the white resort towers, assigning two people to each room. The sun had set hours ago, and Kate peered out the sliding glass door now, just as she had seen the Orchid residents gazing out yesterday, when Martin had led her out of the spa building, revealing the camp for the first time.

There were no lights on the Mediterranean. She had never seen it so dark. There was only a faint glitter across the sea, from a city in northern Morocco.

“You taking that bed?” her roommate asked. She motioned to the bed closest to Kate, near the window.

“Sure.”

Her roommate set her things on the other double bed and began ransacking the room—looking for what, Kate couldn’t imagine.

Kate wanted to open the pack and search for anything she could use, but she was too drained, physically and mentally.

She placed the backpack under the covers, climbed in, and let sleep take her.

She wasn’t in an Atlantean structure, Kate knew that instantly. It felt more like a villa in a Mediterranean city, perhaps from Marbella’s Old Town district. The marble-floored corridor led to an arched wooden door. Kate had the impression that if she opened it, something important would happen, some revelation.

She took a step.

There were two doors to her right. She heard movement inside the closest.

“Hello?”

The movement stopped.

She walked to the door and slowly pushed it open.

David.

He sat on the end of a king-sized bed with disheveled sheets. He was shirtless, bent over, unlacing his tall black boots. “There you are.”

“You’re… alive.”

“Apparently I’m hard to kill these days.” He looked up. “Wait. You thought you’d never see me again. You’ve given up on me.”

Kate closed the door. “I never give up on anyone I love.”

Kate awoke with an eerie sensation: she could remember every second of the dream, as if she had been there. David. Was he alive? Or was her mind giving her hope? She needed to focus. Martin. Escape. Those were the priorities now.

The first rays of sunlight were creeping into the room, and her roommate was already up.

Kate opened the backpack and began searching it. She opened the small notebook and turned to the first page.

Martin had scribbled a message to her.

My Dearest Kate,

If you’re reading this, they’ve caught us. For the past 40 days, this has been my greatest fear. I tried 4 times to get you out. But it was too late. Of the 30 patients that died in the trial, I hoped each one would lead us to a cure. But we ran out of time. Since your father disappeared 29-5-87, I spent every waking hour trying to make you safe. My failure is complete.

Grant my last wish: save yourself. Leave me. It’s all I ask.

I am proud of the woman you’ve become.

Martin

Kate closed the notebook. Then she read it again. Martin’s message to her was clear. And touching. But she sensed there was something else. She took a pencil from the pack and circled all the numbers. Together, they read:

4043029587

A phone number. Kate sat up in the bed.

“What is that?” her roommate asked.

Kate was so lost in thought she almost didn’t hear her. “Um… a… crossword puzzle.”

Her roommate set her book down and rolled over, suddenly interested. “Can I have it when you’re done?”

Kate shrugged. “Sorry, I wrote on it.”

Her roommate scowled, got up from the bed, and padded on heavy feet to the bathroom without another word. The lock clicked.

Kate fished the satellite phone out of the pack and dialed the number.

The sat phone beeped once, then clicked, and a voice began immediately, in a manner that told Kate that it was a recording. The voice was female; an American.

“Continuity. Status follows. Recording time: 22:15 Atlanta Local, Plague Day seventy-nine. Trial 498: result negative.”

Trial 498. What was the last trial she had done—where Marie Romero had died? The tube Martin had begged her for, the result he uploaded into the thermos-like cylinder? 493? There had been five trials since then, obviously at other sites.

“Network status: down. Dial zero for operator.” The speaker paused and then the voice changed. “Continuity. Unsere Situation ist…”

The message was repeating in German. Kate hit zero on the keypad. She heard rustling in the bathroom.

If her roommate saw the sat phone, she would report it immediately, and Kate would be interrogated. The soldiers had set forth the “honor code” of the survivors’ tower: all “members” had to turn in any weapons or electronics. They weren’t searched—part of the Immari brainwashing was apparently to pretend they were voluntary members, not prisoners, and forced searches would have shattered the charade. Still, the Immari had set out severe consequences for any signs of dissent. Anyone caught with anything suspicious, anything shiny and sharp or with an on-off switch, was immediately transferred to the other tower—with those who didn’t pledge.

Kate held the phone behind the pillow, where her roommate wouldn’t see it if she emerged from the bathroom. Kate lowered her head to the phone, halfway behind the pillow and listened.

A woman answered, speaking quickly. “Access code?”

It took Kate a second to process what she had said.

“I…”

“Access code.”

“I don’t know it,” Kate whispered as she eyed the door.

“Identify yourself,” the woman said, with a hint of concern or possibly suspicion.

“I… I work with Martin Grey.”

“Put him on the line.”

Kate thought for a moment. In the back of her mind, she wanted to hold back, to extract more information, but how? She was out of time—and options. What choice did she have but to tell her story and ask for help?

The bathroom door clicked.

Kate dropped the phone behind the pillow. Then remembered to hit the end button.

She looked up to see her roommate eyeing her.

Kate tried to focus on the notebook she held in her other hand. “What?” she said innocently.

“Were you talking to somebody?”

“Myself.” Kate held up the notebook. “Helps me with spelling. I’m a terrible speller.”
And liar
, she thought.

The suspicion lingered on her roommate’s face, but she returned to her bunk and resumed reading.

The next three hours passed in silence. Kate lay on her bunk, thinking, wondering how she could get Martin out. Her roommate read, occasionally laughing.

The breakfast call came and her roommate was up and at the door in seconds. She paused. “You coming?”

“Gonna let the line die down,” Kate said.

The instant the door closed, Kate dialed the number again.

“Access code?”

“It’s me again. I work with Martin Grey.”

“Put Dr. Grey—”

“I can’t. We’re separated. We’ve been captured by the Immari.”

“What’s your access code?”

“Look, I don’t know it. We need help. He kept me in the dark. I don’t know anything, but Martin is going to die in hours if we don’t get some help.”

“Identify yourself.”

Kate exhaled. “Kate Warner.”

The line was silent and Kate thought maybe it had been disconnected. She glanced at the phone readout. The seconds were still counting up. “Hello?” She waited. “Hello?”

“Hold the line.”

Two beeps came, then a man’s voice, young, crisp, focused. “Dr. Warner?”

“Yes.”

“This is Paul Brenner. I’ve been working with Martin for some time. I’ve actually been… I’ve seen all of your reports, Dr. Warner. Where are you now?”

“Marbella. The Orchid District. The Immari have taken it over, and the city.”

“We know.”

“We need help.”

“The operator said that you and Dr. Grey are separated.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have access to Dr. Grey’s research notes?”

Kate eyed the bag. The question made her nervous. “I… can get access to it. Why?”

“We believe he has some research we desperately need.”

“Well we
desperately
need to get the hell out of here, so let’s make a deal.”

“We can’t help—”

“Why not? What about NATO? Can’t you send some commandos in here to get us or something?”

“NATO no longer exists. Look, things are more complicated—”

“Tell me about it.”

“Orchid no longer works on the plague. People are dying—everywhere. The president died a few hours ago, and the vice president followed shortly thereafter.”

“Who’s running the government—”

“The speaker of the house assumed the presidency, but he was then assassinated. He was a suspected Immari sympathizer. The rumor is that the Joint Chiefs have stepped in, and that the chairman is styling himself the emergency president. He’s considering a plan to… Dr. Warner, we need that research.”

“Why is Orchid failing?”

“Another mutation. Listen, we think Martin was working on something, but we don’t know what it was. I need to speak with him.”

Kate flipped the notebook open and began reading the pages. She didn’t understand what she saw.

“Dr. Warner?”

“I’m here. Can you get us out?”

A long pause. “We can’t get anyone into the Orchid District, but if you can get out… I’ll see what I can do to arrange transport. But—our sources say the Immari plan is to evacuate southern Spain late tonight, the survivors at least.”

Kate glanced out the glass door. The sun had almost risen now. It was going to be a long day.

“I’ll call you back. Be ready.”

CHAPTER 39

Immari Operations Base at Ceuta
Northern Morocco

David awoke to the second-loudest alarm he’d ever heard in his life. The loudest alarm had been in Langley, Virginia, in 2003: an airhorn held at his head, prompting him to jump out of bed, half-naked. His CIA training handlers had hauled him out of the barracks, still half-naked, and dumped him in the woods of northern Virginia.

“There are six snipers in these woods. You have ’til dusk to reach the barracks. Their bullets carry paint, and if any is on you, we don’t want you.”

They had thrown him out, the van still rolling, and he had seen them again as the sun set behind the one-story barracks building.

Since that evening, he had never slept in his underwear again, save for that single time, a slight oversight, a moment of weakness, when he let his guard down in Gibraltar, with Kate.

Now a flood of footsteps echoed through the door. He took up position in the opposite corner of the room, diagonal from the door, ready to assault anyone who entered. Had Rukin found out? Bugged the room? He would have heard everything.

The door clicked open, but it didn’t swing. Two black hands peeked out from the door, held straight out, showing that they were empty. The owner called through the rush of footfalls behind him. “Kamau.”

“Step inside. Then close the door,” David said from his crouching position, then quickly, silently, on bare feet, stepped to the other corner of the room, in the door’s blind spot.

Kamau entered the room and pushed the door closed behind him. He instantly focused on the corner David’s voice had come from, then spun to the other corner, facing David.