Medusa

Her eyes widened.

“That was you I saw?”

Austin nodded.

“I was watching you and Joe and got careless.”

He turned to Phelps.

“From the conversation I overheard a few minutes ago, it sounds like you’ve come over from the Dark Side.”

“That video nailed it for me,” Phelps said. “Joe seems to be okay with the deal.”

Austin didn’t have time to subject Phelps to a lie-detector test. He glanced at Zavala, who gave him a nod, then came back to Phelps.

“Welcome aboard, soldier,” Austin said. “What’s our status?”

“Chang is on his way to the lab to pick up the vaccine,” Phelps said.

“He’ll be here any minute,” Mitchell added.

“That’s good,” Austin said unexpectedly. “Chang and the people responsible for the scenes on that video are walking dead.”

Unexpectedly, Lois began to sob.

“I’m one of those people,” she said. “I collaborated on the vaccine work.”

“You can’t beat yourself up, Dr. Mitchell,” Austin said, trying to cushion the force of his words. “You were forced to work on the vaccine. You and the other scientists would have been killed if you hadn’t.”

“I know that,” she said. “But I went overboard to make sure the project was a success. It was as if I were trying to show them we could meet the challenge.”

“Rock and a hard place,” Phelps said. “Now that the vaccine’s a fact, they won’t need the staff or the lab. Joe and I have come up with a plan to get everyone off the Locker.”

Austin didn’t answer right away. He squinted through the dome where he had seen a flicker of light. Recalling the high visibility of the globe’s interior to outside eyes, Austin hit the light switch, throwing the office into darkness.

“Your plan had better be a good one,” Austin said. “Look.”

All eyes turned to see the shuttle carrying Chang and Dr. Wu as it descended toward the lab like a star falling in slow motion.

CHAPTER 44

MINUTES LATER, THE SHUTTLE SETTLED ON THE LANDING pad and the open roof over it closed again like two halves of a clamshell. Powerful pumps kicked into action and rapidly cleared the airlock of water, but Chang nonetheless was seething with impatience. He finally burst from the shuttle like a moray eel springing from its den and slogged toward the exit door as the last few inches of water gurgled down the drains. The weasel-faced Dr. Wu followed a couple of paces behind.

When the door to the airlock hissed open, Phelps was standing in the adjacent chamber next to the control console. He stepped up to Chang and greeted him with a lopsided grin.

“You got here fast, boss. Musta put the pedal to the metal.”

Chang stared at Phelps with barely concealed contempt. American jargon was lost on him, and it a

“Enough talk!” Chang snarled. “Where is the vaccine?”

“Dr. Mitchell has it,” Phelps said. “She’s been waiting in the mess hall for you to arrive. The NUMA guy is with her.”

“And the laboratory staff? Where are they?”

“They’re all tucked away in their quarters.”

“Make sure they stay there. You have disabled the minisubs, as I ordered?”

Phelps dug out four flat, rectangular boxes tucked in his belt.

“These circuits control the subs’ power supplies,” he said.

Chang snatched the circuit boards from Phelps, dropped them on the metal floor, and ground them to pieces with his heel. He barked an order to his men, who had emerged from the shuttle carrying wooden boxes in their arms. They stacked the boxes near the console and then returned to the cargo hold for more.

Printed on the boxes in big bold red letters was

HANDLE WITH CARE EXPLOSIVES

Phelps rapped the top of a box with his knuckles.

“What’s going on with the firecrackers, Chang?” he asked.

“It’s fairly obvious,” Chang said. “You’re going to use your expertise with explosives to blow up the lab. It has fulfilled its function.”

Phelps poked at the smashed electrical circuits with the toe of his boot.

“One problem,” he said. “How are the scientists going to get off the lab with the minisubs disabled?”

“The scientists have fulfilled their function. They’ll stay with the lab.”

Phelps stepped in front of Chang and faced off.

“You hired me to hijack the lab,” Phelps said. “Killing a bunch of i

“Then you won’t prepare the explosives?” Chang asked.

Phelps wagged his head.

“That’s right,” he said. “You can count me out of this deal.”

Chang stretched his liverish lips in a death’s-head grin.

“Very well then, Mr. Phelps. You’re fired.”

Chang’s hand reached down to his holster and, in a lightning move, drew his pistol and shot Phelps point-blank in the chest. The impact at such close range threw Phelps backward, and he crashed to the floor. Chang gazed at Phelps’s twitching body with the expression of a craftsman who considered his job well done. He ordered one of his men to prepare the explosives, and then he charged off. Dr. Wu followed a few paces behind.

Chang burst into the mess hall, and his jade-green gaze fell on Joe Zavala and Lois Mitchell, who were tied to their chairs and sat back-to-back under the watchful eye of the same hard-faced guards who had come down with Phelps. Chang leaned close to Zavala.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“You’ve got a short memory,” Zavala said. “We met on the Beebe. You left with your tail between your legs while Kurt Austin and I entertained your friends.”

“Of course,” Chang said. “You’re the NUMA engineer. My men deserved their fate. We won’t be so careless next time. How did you find us?”

“One of our planes flew over the atoll and saw something suspicious.”

“You’re lying!” Chang grabbed the front of Zavala’s shirt. “I don’t like being taken for a fool. If that were the case, planes and ships would be swarming around the atoll. My observers report that all is peaceful.”

“Maybe it’s what you don’t see that you should worry about,” Zavala said.

“Tell me how you found us.”

“Okay, I confess. A little bird told me.”

Chang backhanded Zavala across the jaw.

“What else did your little bird tell you?” Chang asked.

“He told me that you are going to die,” Zavala burbled through bloody lips.

“No, my friend, it is you who are going to die.”

Chang let go of Zavala’s shirt and turned to Lois Mitchell, who was staring in horror at Joe’s bloodied face.

“Where is my vaccine?” Chang demanded.

She glared at Chang, and said, “In a safe place. Untie me and I’ll get it for you.”

At a nod from Chang, his men untied her. She stood and rubbed her wrists, then went over and opened the door to the walk-in refrigerator used to store food for the mess. Stepping inside, she came out carrying a large plastic cooler, which she placed on the floor. Dr. Wu unlatched the lid of the cooler.

“The cooler holds the microbial cultures that will allow you to synthesize the vaccine in quantity,” she said.

Packed in foam were a number of the shallow, wide petri dishes. Wu smiled.

“This is a miracle,” he said.

“Actually,” she said, “it’s nothing more than very i

She bent down and removed the top rack of petri dishes. Underneath were three stainless-steel containers, also packed in foam.

“These are the three vials of the vaccine that you requested,” she said. “You will be able to make more with the cultures.” She replaced the rack, closed the lid, and stood up. “Our job here is done. Mr. Phelps said that we would be free to go once we completed the project.”