Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) by Linda Andrews Page A

drawers had stopped opening and closing. Either the sergeant major had found her supply of kitchen garbage bags, or he was listening to the rebuke. She’d bet the latter.
    “Funny, Colonel,” Miles drawled. Lynch swayed to the softness of the Surgeon General’s voice. Mavis bit her lip. Her friend hadn’t lost that snake charmer tone. “You know, I’m reading your orders now and they said to confirm Dr. Spanner’s identity then hand over the laptop. You do still have the laptop, don’t you?”
    Lynch’s left eye twitched. Strangling the handle, he looked at her neck before dropping the case to his side. For a moment, she thought he’d lie. “Yes, Sir.”
    “Good.” Still using his snake charmer’s voice, Miles spoke softly. “Now, have you confirmed Doctor Spanner’s identity?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I’m going to make this very simple, Colonel. Hand the laptop to the good doctor.” Steel girded Miles’s order.
    Like a robot, the officer raised the laptop in her direction.
    Shaking her head, Mavis popped open the lid of Clorox wipes and tugged two out. “Just put it on the table.”
    Metal scraped wood as he dropped it onto the teak dining room table.
    Schooling her features not to smile, she strode across the room and swiped the cloths over the case. She really should behave. Really, but the lying puke deserved a comeuppance. “You’re a brave man to touch the case, Colonel.”
    His eyes narrowed.
    She dragged the wipe over the square black fingerprint readers near the combination lock. One day, she’d be punished for what she was about to do. Then again, maybe not. Either way, she’d sleep soundly tonight.
    “This just came from US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases.” She sucked on her bottom lip. Partly in fear. Sweet Jesus, if the LCD reader couldn’t read her fingerprints, the C4 lining the case would be tripped. “God knows, AMRIID deals with the really nasty bugs. And they love to hitchhike on metal.”
    Colonel Lynch dashed for the kitchen sink and slapped on the tap. “Son of a bitch!”
    He pumped a pile of soap into his palm and began scrubbing his hands under the steaming water.
    Behind him, the sergeant major’s shoulders shook and his face turned bright red.
    Mavis turned her back on them so neither could see her smile. Serves you right, you prick.
    Coughing came out the speaker before Miles cleared his throat. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Mavis. When will you learn to play nicely with others?”
    She finished cleaning the case, crumpled up the wipe and chucked it into the basket. “I’ll put it on my bucket list.”
    “Christ, Mavis.” Miles growled. “If what we’re seeing is any indication, you might have to enroll in finishing school tomorrow.”
    Her heart mule-kicked in her chest and her mouth went dry. She pressed her thumbs to the LCD readers before spinning the lock to her numbered code. “That bad?”
    “Seventy percent mortality. Seventy.” Miles hissed. “But we’re not sure if it’s just the disease or a culmination of unsanitary conditions, tainted water, lack of food and no medicine.”
    The case’s locks popped like a shot. Hooking her ankle around a chair leg, she dragged it closer and collapsed onto it. “Seventy percent? Are you sure?”
    There had to be a mistake. There had to be. Blocking out the soldiers, she lifted the lid.
    “No, that’s where you come in.” She could almost see him chewing on the earpiece of his reading glasses. “Run the numbers with your modeling program.”
    After removing the solar cells and satellite hook-up, she powered up the computer then drummed her fingers on the table. Why did the blasted thing have to take so long? “Is the most recent data on the hard drive?”
    “No, but it’s on its way by military courier.” A chair creaked over the phone. “ETA is midnight, local time.”
    Courier? She leaned forward and stared in the camera lens dead center of the laptop’s screen. She