Warren Murphy: Air Raid

This one was a young American botanist she had recruited herself. Fried to a crisp when a carelessly dropped appliance landed in his bathtub. That the appliance was a microwave and the dead scientist had been fully clothed at the time was glossed over by the authorities. Amanda might even have accepted the official verdict on the tragedy if old Dr. Cross hadn't been found the next day.

The English geneticist had been cooked to death behind the steering wheel of his car. No one quite knew how it happened, but apparently he had been burned to black slag. His fillings and most of his car had partially melted.

Dr. Lewandowski went the same way the day after. When the Geneva police declared both bizarre deaths to be unfortunate skiing accidents, Amanda began to suspect that their hearts weren't in uncovering the truth.

It became epidemic after that. CCS scientists were all dying or disappearing, taking with them to their graves all knowledge of the process by which the C. dioxa had been created. The bodies mounted until there was only one left.

The thought that, at any minute, she might join her deceased colleagues gave Amanda Lifton an involuntary shudder as she walked along the chilly abandoned halls of the CCS headquarters.

The complex was like a high-tech ghost town. The corridors were a tidy white. Color-coded stripes on the floors directed visitors around the buildings: blue was for the administrative offices, red for the labs and green directed one to the greenhouses. Amanda walked nervously along the green line. At one point the sole of one lab sneaker squeaked on the concrete floor, and the resultant echo nearly caused her to jump out the nearest window.

She had a right to be jumpy. All the deaths couldn't be coincidental.

Amanda had finally worked up the nerve to phone the head of the CCS about her theory. Dr. Hubert St. Clair seemed very interested in what she had to say. He asked her to meet him at the main greenhouse in twenty minutes so they could discuss the matter.

As she walked, Amanda checked her watch.

It was a cheap digital knockoff she'd picked up in the States. Nothing like the expensive watches she'd had for the first thirty years of her life.

She was thinking evil thoughts of Daddy and the dangerous situation his pettiness had put her in as she passed an empty security desk. The monitors were dead screens. A pile of laminated security passes sat in a box next to a pair of silent telephones.

"No need for security in a building full of dead people," she muttered anxiously as she passed the desk.

She followed the green line around a corner. As she rounded to the next hall, the heel of her shoe squeaked shrilly again on the coated concrete floor.

Her heart skipped and she glanced down at her own clumsy feet. It was in this position-head down and with a scowl on her face--that Amanda Lifton walked straight into the man who was heading up the next corridor.

As she stumbled back, shocked, strong hands grabbed her by the biceps.

Looking up with a start, Amanda found herself staring into the deepest, darkest, deadliest eyes she had ever seen. They were a killer's eyes. Confronted by the death she so feared, Amanda Lifton reacted in the only manner she knew how. Throwing back her head, Amanda screamed.

Amanda kept screaming even after the hands released her.

"What's the hell's your problem?" the killer demanded.

"What did you do?" another voice asked.

There was someone else with the killer. He stood behind the first man, a deeply displeased look on his face.

"I didn't do anything."

"Then why is this thing with the balloons on her chest shrieking?"

"Beats me. She must be self-activating. Maybe they're like air bags with built-in alarms. Big as they are, they've gotta run out of air eventually." Amanda finally stopped screaming to catch her breath.

"See?"

"Who are you?" Amanda panted fearfully. "What do you want?" Her face held a look of a frantic, hunted animal.

The killer began to speak, but paused. Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder.

"Chiun, who are we supposed to be today?" Remo asked.

The Master of Sinanju padded up beside Remo. "We are doctors," the wizened Korean said. "I am the esteemed Dr. Marcus Welby and you are my assistant, the bumbling Dr. Kiley."

"Nah, that's not it," Remo said. "Eh," he shrugged. "Close enough for government work." Amanda looked from one man to the other. Neither made a move toward her. Still, she remained cautious, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"How did you get in here?" Amanda demanded. "This is a secure facility."

"Tell that to the no one who wasn't guarding the unlocked front door," Remo said. "You got Swiss cheese for security around here, kitten."

Some of the tension drained from her body. In spite of her initial reaction, these two seemed harmless enough. Probably just lost tourists or CCS contributors. And, in truth, she found the company comforting.

"It's no wonder they left," Amanda exhaled. "Everyone here is afraid for their life right about now."

"Oh, yeah," Remo said, nodding. "What with all those scientists getting bumped off. You're Amanda Lifton, right?"

Amanda's panic returned full force.

"No," she insisted quickly, backing away.

"Says so on your name tag," Remo pointed out. "Not a good picture. They left off your two best attributes."

"She would need to lug a billboard to include those monstrosities," Chiun sniffed.

She was thinking she could outrun them. The old one definitely. The younger one possibly. If she could just get to an office, lock the door. A call to the police or Dr. St. Clair, who she knew was somewhere in the CCS complex.

Dr. St. Clair! He was in danger, too. She had to warn him.

"Okay, buster," Amanda said, forcing strength into her cracking voice. "I want to know who you are and what you're doing here, and I want to know right now."

Remo shrugged. "We're the guys who are here keep you alive," he said.

The words were so shocking, delivered in such an offhanded way, that Amanda felt the fear drain from her.

She cast a tired eye up and down the thin man who stood before her. The same for the tiny, kimono-clad Asian standing placidly next to him. When she was through appraising them, Amanda did something she hadn't done in weeks. Dr. Amanda Lifton threw back her head and laughed out loud.

Chapter 5

The laughter lasted only until she started sobbing uncontrollably.

"What'd I do now?" Remo complained.

Chiun slipped around Remo, taking Amanda's hands in his own. "There, there, young lady," he said, patting her hands comfortingly. "Do not let the paleness of his skin alarm you. Remo, go stand in that shadow lest your excessive whiteness give this poor child the vapors."

"Vapors, my ass," Remo groused. "We're in Switzerland, for crying out loud. This is where Aryan clouds are born."

Amanda was still blubbering. Now that she'd started there seemed no way to turn off the waterworks.

"Geez, lady, put a cork in it, will you?" Remo said. "It's not like your dog died. Tell you what. We'll stop by the pound and pick you up a brand-new tweedy scientist to play with."

Amanda shrieked as if in pain. She was going into some kind of hysterical fit, bawling and gulping for air.

Seeing there might be no quick end in sight if he just let her go on leaking like that, Remo sighed loudly. Reaching around behind Amanda, he manipulated a cluster of nerves at the base of her spine.

The crying dried up at once.

"Oh," Amanda said, surprised by the sudden cessation of tears. She tried sniffling, but there was nothing to sniff. She looked up, bewildered. "What did you do?"

"Kept the Alps from flooding," Remo said. "Can we talk now?"

Amanda blinked away her drying tears.