Reckoning by Jo Leigh Page A

out Rodney’s picture. When she finished with one, she handed it to Boone, who replaced the photo with one of himself. Then Nate took the fake ID and ran it through the copier again, only this time the machine laminated the card. Christie trimmed the new ID. All of this was done in silence; everyone intent on not making even the smallest mistake.
    They made one ID for each member of the team. They didn’t bother to change the name. If someone looked that closely, they’d realize immediately that it was fraudulent.
    She found herself pacing, wishing they’d given her an assignment. As Nate had proven once again, it was always easier to work than wait.
    The deaths in Chad would haunt them all. But the news had also reinforced their determination. Not only that. The news had accelerated their timeline. They had to move fast. As fast as they could. No one wanted another village wiped out.
    “Time,” Nate said.
    They had finished the whole set of IDs, all except the final trim, but Christie abandoned her task to watch Cade’s next move.
    He touched the cast in a bunch of places, particularly between the fingers. He must have been satisfied because he loosened the putty around the wrist, then took hold of the molded plastic and pulled it off the hand, inside out. When he was finished he had a perfect glove. Even Tam could see the ridged prints.
    Harper used some alcohol pads to clean up Rodney’s hand. Then she checked his vitals again, and his eyes. “I don’t know how long he’ll be out. But he won’t remember any of this.”
    “Tam, Harper and Christie, you take care of things in here,” Nate said before turning to his men. “Let’s load him up and get him back to his car.” He replaced Rodney’s wallet and they hoisted him into the truck bed.
    Boone and Seth got in the front and Cade stayed in the bed. Nate checked outside, then gave them the go-ahead. The truck headed out slowly over the broken concrete outside.
    Rodney would wake up sometime in the next few hours, wondering what the hell had happened. By then, all evidence that the team had been in the warehouse would be gone. They’d each have an ID card, giving them level four clearance, and one set of fingerprints that would change everything.

    NOW THAT THE COMPUTERS HAD arrived, Tam found that her last three days were a lot like those she’d spent in the lab. No experiments, but long stretches of solitary work, broken up by lunch with whoever happened to be at the motel. Her assignment was to type in the data she’d compiled about the gas and the antidote. To make the heavy scientific jargon understandable to the layman. Everything had to be recorded, every trial and every observation. She kept putting off transcribing the notes of her failed dispersal system, but that would have to be included, too.
    What made it all bearable were her nights. Although technically, it was her mornings. Nate worked so late he’d come to their room well past midnight. Despite his exhaustion, they made love, which saw them through the next twenty-four hours.
    She saved her page and got up from the little round table. They didn’t have much in what passed for a kitchen, but she had her stock of Diet Pepsi Lime and he had his Corona. The beverages filled most of the refrigerator, but there was also a loaf of bread and peanut butter in there, too. She wished it were tomorrow.
    Tonight, Boone and Seth were going to enter the chamber using Rodney’s fingerprints. The tension had the whole team on edge, and she found it safer to lock herself away and concentrate on her work. Nate, however, couldn’t lose himself in formulas. Although he didn’t carry out the missions, he felt the weight of each and every one.
    The day after they’d made the mold of Rodney’s hand, Nate had gone with Vince to the machine shop. She’d been completely terrified until he’d walked back through their door, and that memory helped her be patient when he was gruff, or when he paced across the