The Death Strain (15 page)

One bullet each was fired from guns equipped with silencers. Two men, both Orientals, leaped into the truck, shoved the bodies aside and started off as the light became green. They made a fast turn into Third Avenue and then another at the next corner where they pulled up before a boarded-up building slated for demolition. A huge man, moving surprisingly quickly for his size, opened the rear of the truck and squeezed inside.

Meanwhile, the other two opened the door between the driver's section and the rear of the vehicle. They pushed the two dead men into the back and took their identification cards from them. Slipping the photos out of the plastic cover, they replaced them with photos of themselves. It all took six minutes, including the waiting time at the light. The Superior Banquet Supply Company truck started off again for the United Nations.

They were halted at the first police line, showed their clearance cards and were passed through. They were stopped twice more and each time the police checked the photos against the occupants of the truck and passed them on.

They drove slowly to the side service entrance of the Assembly Building and got out. A small metal ramp was lowered at the back of the truck and they wheeled a huge, closed box down it. The box contained a full supply of fresh linens, tablecloths, dish towels and other banquet supplies. And one thing more. They left the truck and wheeled the huge box into the United Nations, taking the ramp that led down to the basement.

Just before all this happened I had reached the maintenance man and demanded to see his clearance card. He showed it to me and it was in order.

"Where is the ventilation system leading to the Assembly Hall?" I asked him. "It's got to be down here someplace."

"End of this corridor, turn right," he said. "You'll see the ducts. They're screened, four of them, two over and two under. Why, something wrong up there?"

"Not yet," I said, racing down the corridor. "Not yet." I took the corner in a skid and raced down the next corridor. The ducts were there, the screens in place, and I peered at the small metal sign beneath them.

"Assembly Hall Vent System," it read. "Blower Controls in Boiler Room 3."

I put my ear to the screens and heard the sound of air being forced upwards. Two of the ducts carried fresh air up and two carried circulated air back down. It was the perfect place. All they had to do was open the vial into the duct and in seconds the deadly chemical would be blown into the Assembly Hall.

I walked to the end of the corridor. There was a small hallway that led to a fire exit. I tried it. The door was locked from the outside but opened from the hallway. I walked back, past rows of pipes level with my head, and turned the corner which led to the main corridor. I went back to where I'd met the maintenance man. There were no doorways or other corridors. Anyone reaching the ducts would have to pass this way. The maintenance man had gone and I took up a position at the corner.

I glanced at my watch. Nine fifty-five. In the green, gold and blue Assembly Hall, the World Leadership Conference was about to begin. Maybe it will go off without trouble, I muttered to myself.

I heard the sound just about that time. I looked up to see two men pushing a big closed wooden box on wheels. They moved down the corridor toward me and I read the stenciled letters on the side of the wheeled box: Superior Banquet Supplies.

"Hold it," I said as they reached me. "Let's see your clearance cards." The two men handed me their cards. The photos matched them. I recalled what the police captain had said about the outfit that would bring the banquet supplies.

"Go ahead," I said. They nodded and continued to push their huge, wheeled box down the hallway. I had turned away to keep my eye on the other end of the corridor when suddenly I realized something. There wasn't a damn reason for banquet supplies to be down here. There wasn't even a laundry room in this area.

I whirled just as one of the men fired, and I heard the dull, muffled sound of the silencer. I'd have been dead, shot through the back, it I hadn't whirled. As it was, the shot hit Wilhelmina in her shoulder holster under my jacket. The force of it knocked me backwards and hurt like hell as it drove the heavy Luger into my ribs. He fired again as I was falling and the shot cut into my temple and I felt the sharp, burning pain. I lay there feeling the waves of darkness trying to close in on me and the warm trickle of blood running down my temple. They figured they'd done it and pushed on.

I lay there, squeezing my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, fighting the darkness again. It was the shot that'd creased my temple that was doing the damage. I rose up on one elbow, saw the gray-white corridor spin and shook my head. It stopped spinning and I got to my feet. I took out Wilhelmina. The slug had struck the trigger and the release latch and twisted and jammed both. Wilhelmina would do no shooting for now.

I moved forward quickly on the balls of my feet. There'd be damned little place to hide in these barren corridors and they'd already rounded the corner. I still had those fancy socks in my pocket that Stewart had given me. But if I lit them and blew the three of them up, the X–V77 would go with them, blown right into the vent system by the explosion. And so I had a fancy weapon I couldn't use and a gun I couldn't shoot And time had run out.

A towering rage swept over me. They wouldn't empty that damned vial into the duct. Not now, not after all this. Chung Li wouldn't sit back and enjoy the triumph of his deceitful cleverness. I turned on the speed and when I hit the corner and careened around it like a car on two wheels, one of them had just removed the screen from one of the intake ducts. Carlsbad's huge Japanese buddy was emerging from inside the big wooden box, the vial in his hands; a third man was helping him out.

I had Wilhelmina in one hand and Hugo in the other. As I slammed into the side of the wall, I flung the stiletto at the one with the duct screen still in his hands. The blade imbedded itself in his temple. He stiffened and then crumpled and the screen fell on top of him. Wilhelmina flew through the air and caught the second bastard right in the middle of his forehead. He fell backwards as blood spewed out of a bad gash. The giant Japanese froze for an instant, one foot still in the wooden box. I started for him and he came to meet me. Just as I rushed, he threw the vial at the open vent duct. Remembering my football days in college, I twisted, reversed and leaped upwards and backwards at once.

I felt my fingers close around the vial as it flew through the air and I got a grip on it as I fell, holding it out from me. My head hit the concrete of the floor and I saw stars for an instant. The' Japanese slammed a shoe into my chest. I felt my breath catch on fire from the pain but I rolled away, still clutching the vial over my head. I couldn't let him get his huge hands on that. He was on top of me, all three hundred and twenty-five pounds of him, reaching out for the vial. My hand was still over my head. I opened it, let the vial roll onto the floor and with my fingers sent it skittering across the corridor.

The Japanese cursed and I felt his weight come off me as he started to dive after the vial. I wrapped both arms around one oak tree of a leg and twisted. He fell heavily to one knee as a grunt of pain escaped him. I hit him with my shoulder and he dropped to one side. He rolled away and reached out for the vial as it lay within reach against the other wall.

My foot got there first, coming down with all my might on his fingers. He screamed in pain and pulled his hand back automatically. I got one toe against the vial and sent it rolling farther down the corridor, hoping to hell it wouldn't break. The giant was on his feet, rushing at me. I knew better than to try to meet this human locomotive head on. I twisted and got only part of his rush. It was enough to knock me into the wall so hard I felt my bones shudder. He had a split second to decide whether to go after me or the vial. True to his mission, he went for the vial. As he rushed past me, I stuck out a foot and he stumbled to the floor and the building shook. I slammed another foot into his jaw and he rolled over and blinked. He saw that he'd have to take me out before he got the vial. I let him get to one knee and swung, hitting him on the point of the jaw with a perfect blow. His eyes crossed and he fell backwards but only for a moment It would have killed some men and taken out most others. This guy, though, was getting to his feet once more.

But some of the starch had been taken out of him. I swung again and opened a two-inch gash over his right eye with a sharp, slicing blow. I followed with a right and he turned his head in time to avoid taking it on the jaw. It caught his wide, flat cheekbone and I felt it break. He put his head down and leaped forward. I tried to dodge but didn't make it. His huge arms circled my body and I felt the grizzly-bear strength of the man at once. His head down, he pressed himself against my chest, pulling me forwards at the waist. I felt my ribs about to go. My arms were pinned to my sides and I couldn't break his hold.

I brought my knee up hard and fast, slamming it up into his groin. I felt him gasp in pain and I was flung across the corridor into the wall. I bounced off it and hit the floor. The pain had taken its toll but it had also sent him into a wild fury. He dived and came down on me. A building falling on me couldn't have felt much worse. My breath left me in one huge rush and pain shot up into every part of my body. He got up but I was seeing through a curtain of grayness, trying to find some breath. I felt his huge hands grab my neck and I was lifted like a child and slammed into the wall once again. This time the grayness turned black and I was only barely conscious as I hit the floor.

I shook my head, acting out of automatic reflexes and experience welling up from the past. I drew a deep breath and shook my head again. The curtain lifted. It had only been a second or two. But the big man had turned to the vial. As I focused, I saw him pick it up and run toward the open vent with it, coming toward me. I was within arm's length of the dead man with Hugo sticking out of his temple. I reached out, grabbed the stiletto, pulled it free and hurled it from a prone position as the gigantic Oriental was less than a step from the duct.

It struck him on the left side and I saw it go deeply into the huge expanse of flesh. He gasped, stopped and staggered. His face contorted in pain, he reached his left hand up and pulled the stiletto free. It took but a second, but a second was all I needed. I was on my feet and diving for him, As he yanked the blade out of his body, I connected with a right. He staggered back and I grabbed the vial out of his hand. I ducked his arm as it swung around to seize me and brought up a sharp uppercut. Once again he staggered backwards.

I reached down and scooped up Hugo. He came forward and I crouched, the vial in one hand, Hugo in the other. He dove for the vial. I brought the stiletto up in a short arc and sliced it across his throat. A red line spurted. He got one hand up to his throat, half-turned toward me, reached up for me and fell to one knee. He started to get up, then fell sideways, and I stumbled back against the wall.

My whole body was shaking and throbbing and I was heaving in deep drafts of air. I looked at the slender vial in my hand, closed my fingers tighter around it and leaned against the wall for a long moment. Then, still using the wall for support, I slowly started back along the corridor. I walked up the stairs carefully.

I paused as I reached the main floor, and walked out into the lobby, bloodstained, bruised, battered. The cops converged on me but I held the vial aloft.

"Easy does it, fellas," I said. I looked up at the big clock against the opposite wall. It said four minutes past ten. The Pope's opening prayer had just ended. And Carlsbad had just died in Walter Reed Hospital. Except I didn't know about Carlsbad then.

"Get me Hawk, AXE, outside the Assembly Hall," I said with an effort, leaning back against the wall and suddenly feeling very tired. When Hawk came down he took one look at the vial in my hand and his lips tightened. I handed it to him.

"They almost got it into the air conditioning ducts. Tell them out in Cumberland not to lose it again," I said.

"I'll do that," he said quietly. "You want to fill me in now?"

"Tomorrow," I said. "I'm going to catch the plane back to Washington."

"Wash up first," he said. "Neatness is part of being an AXE agent." I stared at him and saw a faint twinkle in his eyes. "I'm glad you don't take my word for things," he added. I grunted. It was his way of handing out a compliment.

I walked out of the building and looked back at the symbol of world cooperation. I was drained of all emotion, like a man who had looked over the edge of hell. Only two people knew how close world cooperation had been to world disaster. But now I permitted a glint of triumph to shine in my eyes. In Peking, Chung Li would know soon that somehow, someplace, his cleverness had failed and without actually being sure, he'd know I'd played a part in that failure. We'd meet again, he and I, in one way or another.

I washed up in the brownstone we were using during the conference and then caught the shuttle flight to Washington.

Rita was out when I got to my place and I'd fixed bourbons for us when she returned carrying groceries. She dropped the bags and flew into my arms. Her lips were sweet and warm and a reminder of all the good things. I told her what had happened and she told me about her uncle's death. As we started on a second round of drinks, she gave me a deep, thoughtful glance.

"And what happens to X–V77 now?" she asked.

"It goes back to Cumberland."

"And what happens to my uncle's questions?" she said. "They're still right, you know. They're still unanswered. Do we keep on creating and stockpiling bacteria for which we have no defense? Do we continue to risk killing millions of people?"

"I don't answer questions," I said. "I just put out fires. I can't answer whether or not we should make matches that start fires."