Don Pendleton - Nightmare Army

The safe tone sounded and the inner airlock door opened, revealing the cool tile and sterile-white hallway. Richter stalked forward through the corridors, brushing past men and women who knew to get out of his way when they saw the tall man walking with such purpose.

“Yes, that is not a problem. You’ll have all the eyes on-site you requested.”

“Good.” Richter turned a corner and lengthened his stride, making the shorter man hasten to catch up. It was a faint jab at the other man, but the doctor took his pleasure where he could find it.

“You realize, of course, that observing is all you will be doing.”

Now Richter did turn to the other man and let a small, mirthless smile appear on his face. “Of course, Mr. Firke. Just as you would never presume to tell me how to do my job, I would not feign to know the slightest bit of knowledge about how to carry out yours.”

The ex-military man’s only physical response was a raised eyebrow. “So glad we understand each other.”

Richter didn’t reply until they reached the culture room. White biohazard-suited figures, their faces obscured by full hoods, worked on various trays and at various lab machines and microscopes. The doctor stopped by a drawer set into the wall and hit the switch on an intercom.

“Dr. Estvaan to the transfer drawer, please.” A lithe figure on the far side of the room approached. Richter pulled the drawer out of the wall, then turned to the other man and held out his hand. Firke unzipped the backpack, pulled out a small metal case that was cold to the touch and handed it to the scientist.

After placing the metal case in the drawer, Richter closed it, sending it into the room as he activated the intercom again. “This is the package you were briefed on. You have the entire lab at your disposal to create as many strains using the DNA in here as possible over the next sixteen hours. This assignment takes priority over all others.”

With a curt nod, Estvaan took the case and pulled the rest of the suited workers to her as she began assigning tasks.

“Why Armenia?” Richter asked as he watched the group begin its work.

“Stengrave told you about the final destination, then,” Firke replied.

“Of course.” Richter glanced sidelong at the ex-soldier. “That is the one thing I don’t understand about this experiment. There are plenty of isolated places with a limited population around here. I could find several villages that would suit his needs within a half-day’s travel.” He turned to the other man. “So, why Armenia?”

“You know, I asked him the very same question.” Firke’s mouth curved into a grim smile. “Apparently, about fifteen years ago, a shipment of medical equipment was hijacked and its contents sold on the black market. Don’t ask me who bought it. I didn’t even know there was a black market for plasmapheresis machines, but apparently there is. Anyway, the thieves stole from our boss, at a time when his company had invested everything in this new technology. That shipment was not only worth several millions dollars, it was supposed to open up an entire new world of sales opportunities for Stengrave Industries. When the shipment was lost, insurance didn’t cover nearly enough to make up for the loss. The company almost went under.”

Richter blinked. “And you’re telling me that Mr. Stengrave is now about to exact his revenge on the Armenian thugs who did this to him?”

“Well, over the past fifteen years, that small family of Armenians that took that shipment has grown into one of the largest crime families in the country. The file that my predecessor was required to keep on them is almost 20 gigabytes of data and pictures. Their leader has a vacation place in the mountains, inside a walled city.”

Richter held up a hand. “Just to be clear... Mr. Stengrave has been holding on to these DNA samples for all this time?”

“Well, you know the old saying ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer’? Mr. Stengrave has quite a collection of both.”

“But to collect all of these various samples... It seems, I don’t know...”

“Obsessive?” Firke shrugged. “Perhaps. Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s spent time in a lab coat over the years.” He cleared his throat. “Regarding what you and your people are about to do, one could say that Mr. Stengrave just wants to run a test in a controlled area, where there is the least likely possibility of your little tailored friends in there getting loose. The fact that he’s selected that particular place to do so—also delivering a particularly gruesome revenge on an old enemy who by now has most likely forgotten the reason why this biological death is about to rain down on him—could be a staggering coincidence...or you could chalk all of this up to simple Stengrave efficiency, and take out two birds with one carefully aimed stone.”

Firke turned to the other man. “Fortunately, down here in the Congo, you do not have to worry about such things. Just keep working on what Mr. Stengrave wishes you to work on, and all will be well.” He looked up and down the corridor. “Since I’m basically stuck here for the next several hours, I’ll be in my quarters. Notify me an hour before the batch is ready.”

He walked down the hall, leaving a silent Richter staring after him and trying to repress the shudder that quivered its way down his spine.

Thirty-three hours earlier

AT 0200 LOCAL TIME, Reginald Firke’s eyes popped open without the aid of an alarm.

Swinging his legs over the side of the cot he’d been sleeping on, he sat up and reached for his tablet. Logging in to the local network, he accessed the security cameras and saw that just about everyone was down for the night, except for Dr. Estvaan and her busy crew, still working hard in their lab. He brought up the camera in the main security room and recorded about three minutes of the lone sentry there, then got up and left his room.

Firke walked through the corridors until he came to a room marked Security. The door had no handle on this side, just a keypad and a card slot on the wall next to it. Firke pulled a black key card out of his pocket and swiped it through the reader. The door opened with a soft click.

“What are you doing back?” the guard at the monitors asked as he began turning in his swivel chair, a finger reaching for a large red button. “You’re not due for another thirty minutes...”

Firke held up the black key card. “Good reflexes. You know who I am, correct?”

The guard nodded dumbly, removing his finger from the alarm button.

“And you know who I work for?”

Another nod.

“Very good. I am conducting a surprise inspection of this facility’s security. I am pleased to see that you are at your post and alert. However, I must now ask you to step outside for a few minutes.”

Still nodding, the guard slowly got up from his chair and walked toward the door. He didn’t take his eyes off Firke, who watched him leave, not turning back to the main security console until the door was completely closed. Once it did, he casually glanced at the panel, which controlled every camera both inside and outside the complex, as well as doors that sealed off particular areas and even overrode controls for power, temperature and air intake. Firke didn’t bother with any of these; he just pushed the guard chair aside and sat on the floor.

Taking a screwdriver with an unusual, star-shaped tip from his pocket, he unscrewed six screws in a small panel under the console. Removing that panel revealed a small, unmarked console with another keypad next to five switches, each one underneath a small light and all in the down position.

Firke carefully punched in a long, memorized series of numbers. Then, taking a deep breath, he flipped each switch one by one from right to left. In each case, a green light came on. When they were all activated, he let out the breath he had been holding. If he had input the code wrong, activating the last switch would have been the end of him and the base—literally. Carefully, he replaced the panel and screwed it back into place.