hundred rounds through it in the last two days, Colonel. But the boys cleaned it up real good after we fired it on the—"
"Load me some magazines," Soloman interrupted. "What kind of ammo do you have?"
"Hydro-shock 148 grain full metal jacket." Chatwell broke open a HI locker. "Velocity is nine hundred feet per second at twenty feet and it'll give you six hundred pounds-per-square-inch knockdown with a one inch drop at twenty-five. Just tell me how many clips you want, sir."
"Load five magazines at full capacity and give me two boxes in a pouch. Then give me two of those double Safariland magazine holders and a pocket-sized cleaning kit with a perpendicular shoulder holster. And I need a pair of infrared night-vision Blackwing goggles."
"Yes, sir." Chatwell began loading cli ps with expert efficiency, slamming in the .45-caliber bullets as quickly as he could depress the spring. "Is there anything else, Colonel?"
"Yeah," Soloman frowned. "Give me an out-of-the-box Mylar vest with wraparound rib protection and a steel shock plate. Make sure it's less than two years old. Break out a SPAS-12 that works on semiautomatic or pump and give me five boxes of double-ought buck. Then open the munitions locker and issue me two dozen antipersonnel grenades."
Chatwell laid the shotgun and magazines on the table.
"We goin' for bear, Colonel?"
Soloman didn't look up as he sharply dropped the slide, not chambering a round because it was against regulations to chamber a round inside the Armory or on a flight.
As the steel shut, he stared somberly at the weapon.
"I wish."
***
Maggie slid her encryption card through a magnetic lock and a thermal imaging screen glowed sea-green. Glancing to either side, she assured herself that the underground laboratory was abandoned and placed her hand against the thermal imaging screen that read the track of major veins inside her palm. The vault slid open.
Quickly donning a bacterial isolation suit, she entered the primary laboratory where they had created Cain. A containment cell where they created the bacteria was at the rear.
It had been simple to bypass the guards after she convinced General Hawken that if she were leaving she had to ensure that the viruses were properly secured. A mistake in this lab, she explained, would wipe out all the NASA personnel and the military and every civilian within a one-hundred-mile radius. Cain wasn't the only killer they'd created here.
Ben had shook his head morosely. "You cold-blooded scientists. It’s a wonder you haven’t already killed all of us ..."
He ordered every guard in the compound to stand down and inside fifteen minutes she was in the lab. But, struck by guilt and unaccustomed to stealth, she was unable to keep herself from continually searching for anyone who might be watching.
Above the door of the containment cell was printed in bold red letters: GENOCIDE ONE, MI-MV, HyMar-I.
Without hesitation she opened the freezer and entered to close it more quie tly than necessary. And for the briefest moment she stared down, hand tightening on the panel, wondering if she were right. Then love for her child flared and she walked without remorse down the aisle to a row of small bags marked MI, Mil, Mill, MIV, MV, HyMar-I. She reached up slowly to remove the first and turned to a table, careful to keep the bio-suit's air hose close and untangled.
In seconds she removed a stainless-steel syringe from a gray row and with clinical skill inserted the needle into the bag's nodule. Slowly she extracted two hundred cc's of the original Marburg virus, removing the needle. Then she turned and placed an air-sealing cap on the hypodermic, laying it carefully on the counter. Replacing the MI toxin on the shelf, she opened another freezer to remove a fist-sized liquid nitrogen container.
It was less than six inches long, slate gray and cylindrical, and could easily be concealed in her purse. She placed the unbreakable steel syringe within the niobium-titanium
"Load me some magazines," Soloman interrupted. "What kind of ammo do you have?"
"Hydro-shock 148 grain full metal jacket." Chatwell broke open a HI locker. "Velocity is nine hundred feet per second at twenty feet and it'll give you six hundred pounds-per-square-inch knockdown with a one inch drop at twenty-five. Just tell me how many clips you want, sir."
"Load five magazines at full capacity and give me two boxes in a pouch. Then give me two of those double Safariland magazine holders and a pocket-sized cleaning kit with a perpendicular shoulder holster. And I need a pair of infrared night-vision Blackwing goggles."
"Yes, sir." Chatwell began loading cli ps with expert efficiency, slamming in the .45-caliber bullets as quickly as he could depress the spring. "Is there anything else, Colonel?"
"Yeah," Soloman frowned. "Give me an out-of-the-box Mylar vest with wraparound rib protection and a steel shock plate. Make sure it's less than two years old. Break out a SPAS-12 that works on semiautomatic or pump and give me five boxes of double-ought buck. Then open the munitions locker and issue me two dozen antipersonnel grenades."
Chatwell laid the shotgun and magazines on the table.
"We goin' for bear, Colonel?"
Soloman didn't look up as he sharply dropped the slide, not chambering a round because it was against regulations to chamber a round inside the Armory or on a flight.
As the steel shut, he stared somberly at the weapon.
"I wish."
***
Maggie slid her encryption card through a magnetic lock and a thermal imaging screen glowed sea-green. Glancing to either side, she assured herself that the underground laboratory was abandoned and placed her hand against the thermal imaging screen that read the track of major veins inside her palm. The vault slid open.
Quickly donning a bacterial isolation suit, she entered the primary laboratory where they had created Cain. A containment cell where they created the bacteria was at the rear.
It had been simple to bypass the guards after she convinced General Hawken that if she were leaving she had to ensure that the viruses were properly secured. A mistake in this lab, she explained, would wipe out all the NASA personnel and the military and every civilian within a one-hundred-mile radius. Cain wasn't the only killer they'd created here.
Ben had shook his head morosely. "You cold-blooded scientists. It’s a wonder you haven’t already killed all of us ..."
He ordered every guard in the compound to stand down and inside fifteen minutes she was in the lab. But, struck by guilt and unaccustomed to stealth, she was unable to keep herself from continually searching for anyone who might be watching.
Above the door of the containment cell was printed in bold red letters: GENOCIDE ONE, MI-MV, HyMar-I.
Without hesitation she opened the freezer and entered to close it more quie tly than necessary. And for the briefest moment she stared down, hand tightening on the panel, wondering if she were right. Then love for her child flared and she walked without remorse down the aisle to a row of small bags marked MI, Mil, Mill, MIV, MV, HyMar-I. She reached up slowly to remove the first and turned to a table, careful to keep the bio-suit's air hose close and untangled.
In seconds she removed a stainless-steel syringe from a gray row and with clinical skill inserted the needle into the bag's nodule. Slowly she extracted two hundred cc's of the original Marburg virus, removing the needle. Then she turned and placed an air-sealing cap on the hypodermic, laying it carefully on the counter. Replacing the MI toxin on the shelf, she opened another freezer to remove a fist-sized liquid nitrogen container.
It was less than six inches long, slate gray and cylindrical, and could easily be concealed in her purse. She placed the unbreakable steel syringe within the niobium-titanium
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