Blowout by Byron L. Dorgan Page B

now.”
    â€œJust the one detonator by the turbine?”
    â€œSo far as I know.”
    â€œI shut it down,” Osborne said. “Dr. Lipton, you okay?”
    â€œEverybody at the rec center is dead.”
    â€œHave you been injured?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMs. Borden?”
    â€œI feel like I’ve been kicked in the butt.”
    â€œLooks like you’re going to get a good story this time,” Osborne said. He eased over to the edge of the feedwater heater and took a quick peek.
    The shooter fired once, the bullet grazing the side of the pump inches away from Osborne’s head and he ducked back. “Determined,” he said. “What’s back there that can hurt us, other than the one using us for target practice?”
    â€œOnly one?” Whitney asked.
    â€œYes.”
    She shrugged. “The furnace, but there’s no gas feed to it until morning. Nothing’s pressurized, no steam. If they blow up anything else, a lot of steel girders, pipes, and some serious machinery could come down on our heads. Lubricating oil reservoirs could catch fire, but most of the microbes have already been injected into the seam. All that’s left is the gadget in the morning.”
    Osborne had a general idea what she was talking about, and so far as he knew it was all strictly classified, on a need to know basis, and someone would have to have to talk to Ashley Borden before she got out of here. The details weren’t ready for the media. The attack would be reported as against the ELF project.
    A lot of black smoke was roiling out from the far end of the generating hall, some of it extremely noxious, and it was starting to make breathing difficult.
    â€œWe’re going to have to get out of here before we choke to death,” Ashley said.
    â€œNot without help,” Whitney said. “The bastard has us pinned down.”
    â€œI tried to call for backup, but all of our communications are down,” Cameron said.
    â€œI figured as much,” Osborne said. “I had State Radio call Ellsworth about ten minutes ago, so help should be on its way.”
    â€œI don’t know where the hell you got the protocol, but I’m sure glad you did,” Whitney said. “So how do we get out of here?”
    â€œCreate a diversion,” Ashley said. “I’ll go for the Glock.”
    She started to move out from behind the feedwater heater but Osborne grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “You’ll get yourself killed that way. Whoever is doing the shooting has the high ground and they’re damned good. Anyway you need to come out of this in one piece, your father would never forgive me otherwise. And I can’t go out for dinner and drinks with a corpse or a cripple. Deal?”
    Ashley looked up at him, and after a moment she managed a tight smile. “Deal,” she said. “What’s your plan?”
    â€œYou and Dr. Lipton are going to help Jim out of here,” he said. He handed his 9mm SIG-Sauer and spare magazine of ammunition to Cameron. “Do you have a spare?”
    â€œNo,” Cameron said, seeing what Osborne had in mind. “But I’ve only fired three times, and I loaded a fifteen-round mag.”
    â€œThen we’re about even for now,” Osborne said. His SIG was also loaded with a fifteen-round magazine. “Ready?”
    Cameron checked the pistol and nodded. “I owe you one.”
    â€œWhat?” Whitney demanded.
    â€œWe don’t have time, Doc,” Cameron said as he managed to get to his knees, steadying himself with one hand.
    Whitney, realizing what was about to happen, started to protest, but Cameron reached around the feedwater heater and pulled off two shots that were immediately returned as Osborne dove out from behind the machinery, rolling as he moved, snatching the Glock with one hand while levering himself to the right with his other, and pulling off four shots in rapid