Gideon's Corpse

“There they are!” Gideon cried. “Bust up the road ahead of them! But for God’s sake, don’t hit them or you’ll spread the virus!”

Jackman was frantically working the remote weapons system. “Stop the vehicle so I can aim!”

Gideon ground to a stop, gouging two huge, trench-like furrows in the fairway. Jackman peered through the commander’s periscope, adjusted some gauges, peered again. The Stryker rocked slightly as the grenades were launched, then percussive flashes went off ahead of the Humvee and the road in front of it erupted into the air, chunks of asphalt spi

“Again!” Gideon cried.

Another shuddering series of explosions. But it was useless—the golf course was too broad, the Humvee had nearly limitless paths to the base exit.

Gideon gu

Ahead, Gideon could see a few panicked soldiers milling around the gate buildings, ru

“No phone.”

Gideon thought quickly. “The smoke grenades! Cover them with smoke!”

They plowed through a sand trap, attained another rise, and Jackman let loose. The canisters arced through the sky, bouncing ahead of the Humvee and erupting into enormous clouds of snow-white smoke. The wind was in their favor, rolling the smoke back over the vehicle. It immediately vanished.

Gideon headed into the huge smoke bank. “Got any infrared on this baby?”

“Turn on the DV, set it to thermal,” Jackman said from the gu

Gideon stared at the banks of instrumentation. Jackman leaned over, hit one switch, then another, and one of the i

“Nice,” said Gideon as he headed deeper into the smoke bank. “And there they are!”

The Humvee was still off the road but much closer to them, moving blindly, edging from the fairway into the rough, heading for a line of trees.

Gideon peered at the ghostly image on the videoscreen. “Shit. They’re going to crash.”

“Let me handle it.” Jackman threw himself back into the gu

“Careful, for God’s sake.” Gideon watched as Jackman walked the automatic fire up and across the back of the Humvee, shredding its tires. The car slewed sideways, then came to a shuddering halt.

On the DV, Gideon saw the doors fly open. The three soldiers boiled out, crouching and firing their weapons blindly through the smoke. Then two more figures emerged—Blaine and Dart—and both began ru

“I’m going after them,” Gideon said. “Give me your weapon.”

Gideon threw open the hatch of the Stryker and jumped out, suddenly enveloped in smoke. He could hear the soldiers firing blindly, stupidly, somewhere. He took off in the general direction he’d seen Blaine heading, ru

He jumped up again, continued ru

As Gideon approached, Blaine turned and, wheezing heavily, pulled out his Peacemaker and fired, the shot kicking up the grass in front of Gideon. Still he ran; Blaine got off a second shot, which also missed as Gideon launched himself at the older man, tackling him at the knees. They fell heavily and Gideon grappled the revolver away from him, flinging it aside, pi

“You damn fool!” Blaine screamed, gasping, spittle on his lips.

Without a word, holding the gun to Blaine’s throat, Gideon slipped his hand into the man’s suit coat, groped about, and located the telltale puck of smallpox. He slipped it out, placed it in his pocket, and got up.

“You goddamn fool,” Blaine said, weakly, still lying on the ground.

A sudden eruption of gunfire sent Gideon to the ground. Dart, fifty yards away, had turned in his flight and was now firing at him.

There was no cover and Gideon scrambled to get low and carefully aimed, returning fire. His second shot brought the man down.

And then he heard choppers. Following the sound with his eyes, he made out a pair of Black Hawks approaching fast from the east; they slowed, then turned, coming in for a combat landing.

More backup for Blaine and Dart.

“Drop your weapon and give me the smallpox,” came the voice.

Gideon turned to see Blaine, standing unsteadily, the Peacemaker back in his hand. He felt sick. And he’d been close—so close. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to escape, to protect the smallpox. Could he hide it, bury it, run with it? Where was the Stryker? He looked around desperately, but the vehicle was still enveloped in the streaming clouds of smoke.

“I said, give me the smallpox. And drop your weapon.” Blaine’s hands were shaking.

Gideon felt paralyzed, unable to act. As they faced each other off, the choppers settled down on the fairway, their doors flew open, and soldiers poured out, weapons at the ready, fa

“I’ll never give you the smallpox,” said Gideon, raising his own weapon and pointing it at Blaine. They stood there, weapons aimed at each other, as the soldiers approached. Gideon sensed that Blaine would not shoot him—any shot had the possibility of unleashing the smallpox. Which meant all he had to do was pull the trigger on Blaine.

And yet—even as his grip tightened on the weapon—he realized he could not do it. No matter what the stakes, even at the cost of his own life, he couldn’t bring himself to shoot Alida’s father. Especially since it was now futile.

“Drop your weapons!” came the shout from the group of soldiers. “Disarm! Now! Get down on the ground!”

Gideon braced himself. It was all over.

There was a brief burst of gunfire; Gideon flinched, anticipating the impact—and yet the burst did not strike him. Quite abruptly, Blaine pitched face-forward onto the grass, where he lay unmoving, still clutching the Peacemaker.

“Drop your weapon!” came the shouted command.

Gideon held his arms out, letting the sidearm fall from his hand as the soldiers approached, warily, keeping him covered. One began to search him; he found the smallpox puck and gently removed it.

A lieutenant from the chopper crew came striding over. “Gideon Crew?”

Gideon nodded.

The officer turned to the troops. “He’s all right. He’s Fordyce’s partner.” He turned to Gideon. “Where is Agent Fordyce? In the Stryker?”

“They killed him,” said Gideon, dazed. He began to realize that, in addition to notifying Dart, Fordyce—with his belt-and-suspenders FBI mentality—must have notified others as well. These weren’t more conspirators—this was the cavalry, coming to the rescue a little late.

To his great shock, Gideon heard Blaine cough, then saw the old man rise to his hands and knees. Grunting and gasping, he started crawling toward them. “The…smallpox…,” he breathed. Blood suddenly gushed from his mouth, stopping his speech, but still he crawled.

One of the soldiers raised his rifle.