Denton followed the security chief into his office and closed the door behind him. The décor was borderline suicidal with its varying shades of pale gray and polished concrete floor. To make it worse, it stank of body odor and week-old beef jerky. Or maybe it was the chief’s flesh Denton could smell.

The chief sank into his chair. Air hissed from the cushioned seat as it bore his weight. ‘Colonel, it’s protocol that I inform the facility adminis—’

Denton leveled his USP Compact Tactical pistol. Squeezed off two rounds. Two clicks. And, thanks to the sound suppressor, two muffled thuds.

The chief’s head jolted, then rolled forward. His chin dropped to his chest. It looked as though he’d taken a moment to ponder, but the splash of crimson on the rear wall betrayed that possibility.

Denton leaned over him and plucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He used it to wipe the blood from the chief’s security identification card, then pocketed it. He moved for the door and listened carefully. He could hear the six control-room operators pecking diligently at their keyboards. Removing a donut-shaped plastic object from his pocket, he opened the door a fraction and tossed the object. It was a non-pyrotechnic flashbang, straight out of Desecheo Island’s R&D unit. Through the crack in the open door, he watched as the prototype grenade skittered across the room and stopped by an operator’s foot. The operator peered down to inspect it.

Denton closed the door softly, then his eyes. Covered his ears with hands. Light crept under his eyelids as the grenade’s high-density LED array blossomed. It strobed for eleven seconds. He could hear the staggered moans of the six operators.

He opened the door and casually walked around the circle of desks, firing a single round into each operator’s skull. Inserting a fresh magazine, he gave them a second working over. Not that he ever missed. He just liked to be thorough. And it was fun.

He scooped up the prototype grenade from between two dead operators and slipped it back into his waist pocket. What he loved most about this grenade was that it was reusable.

‘Tango Zero Golf to Oscar Five Delta,’ Grace said into his radio earpiece. ‘We have located a cargo plane at the given coordinates. Booby traps have been found and disabled. No sign of the enemy. Awaiting further instructions. Over.’

Denton held down the push-to-talk switch dangling under his jaw. ‘Oscar Five Delta to Tango Zero Golf. X-Rays are already inside the facility. Conduct a quick sweep and return to blast door chokepoints, over.’

He released the switch, confident that Grace, his new shocktrooper commander, would be efficient and thorough.

‘What are you doing?’ a voice said.

Denton looked up to see Major Novak standing in the doorway. He held his MP5 submachine gun below his barrel chest. The ceiling lights emphasized his receding hairline and the pink blemishes on his fleshy cheeks.

‘Spring cleaning. We’re in command now.’ Denton pushed one of the operators off a chair. ‘Can you fetch my briefcase from the chief’s office?’

Denton let Novak stand there with the briefcase for a moment while he dragged two bodies from the table. Then he took the case and placed it on the table between two keyboards.

‘As of now, this is our forward operating post,’ he said. ‘Has Komarov been taken care of?’

The folds of flesh below Novak’s chin undulated as he nodded. ‘Echo Four Golf’s squad are taking care of her now.’

‘I want confirmation as soon as it’s done,’ Denton said.

Novak appeared to consider the order. More flesh quivered. ‘Yes, Colonel.’

He watched Novak leave Security Control, then unthreaded the suppressor from his USP pistol and placed it on his briefcase. He printed a document from one of the monitors: the operator’s analysis report. It told him what he’d already suspected. The sudden disappearance of the cargo plane wasn’t supposed to distract him from the yellow dot onscreen. The yellow dot was supposed to distract him from the cargo plane.

Sophia wasn’t on the cargo plane at all. It was a decoy.

The yellow dot was intentional.

Sophia had been in the facility for much longer than he’d thought. But where? Certainly not in the BlueGene lab. He could see for himself the Blue Berets were still there. And no sign of Sophia or her insurgency buddies.

He held down the push-to-talk button and spoke quickly. ‘Oscar Five Delta to Tango Zero Golf. Abandon sweep and move to subway blast door. Prepare for intercept. Over.’

‘Tango Zero Golf to Oscar Five Delta,’ Grace said. ‘Moving into position. Over.’

‘Oscar Five Delta out.’

He ran his fingers over the keyboard.

Facial recognition: 0 matches.

‘You clever bitch.’

He smiled. She’d disabled the facial recognition, but kept the cameras online. Smart. But not smart enough.

Denton picked up the phone on the desk and dialed OpCenter exchange. He gave the operator his ID number and said he had an emergency call for the General.

The operator said, ‘Wait one.’

A minute later, the General answered.

‘This is Denton. We have a situation. An unauthorized aircraft has attempted to land on the island.’

The General grunted. ‘Oh, this’ll be good. Go ahead, Denton.’

‘Komarov felt she could handle the situation by disregarding my advice. In doing so, she failed to realize the aircraft was a decoy, allowing an unknown number of unauthorized personnel to penetrate the facility.’

There was a pause. ‘How did they breach the facility’s security?’

‘It is highly likely they slipped in when Komarov sent personnel to investigate the unauthorized aircraft.’

‘Have the intruders made any demands yet?’

‘No, but I’m certain they’re planning a siege on the BlueGene lab. I have good reason to believe they want the Chimera vector codes. The encryption expires in three days.’

The General snorted. ‘Then they’re wasting their time.’

‘Actually, General, they’re not.’ Denton paused. ‘Their leader is Sophia.’

‘Sophia is dead.’

‘I’m looking at the security camera feeds right now,’ Denton lied. ‘She’s very much alive.’

In fact, what the camera feeds showed was every single Blue Beret in the BlueGene lab dropping slowly to the floor, eyes closed. Denton kept his eyes onscreen as he listened to the General. Silence.

‘If that’s the case then under no circumstances is she to be allowed access to the BlueGene supercomputer,’ the General said finally. ‘In the hands of a terrorist, the Chimera vector codes would destroy us all.’

‘I’m aware of the consequences, General. I have six Blue Beret troops already in position and four more surrounding Sophia’s team,’ he lied again. He had to. Allowing her access to the supercomputer was precisely what he wanted.

‘Denton, I’m ordering you to evacuate all personnel, including yourself.’

Two steps ahead of you, pal.

‘You have twenty minutes before the facility and anyone inside it is destroyed,’ the General went on. ‘I’m authorizing deployment of a bunker-buster missile. I’m afraid there is no other option.’

‘Yes, General.’ Denton wiped sweat from his face. ‘With your permission, I’d like to use my shocktroopers. I’m confident they can handle this threat more efficiently—and delicately—than a missile.’

The General did not respond. For a moment, Denton thought the connection had been lost.

Then the General said, ‘Fine. I’ll extend your window to forty-five minutes. Don’t request any more time. Eliminate Sophia and her band of insurgents. You will do everything in your power to ensure they don’t get their hands on the Chimera vector codes. Your career and your life depend upon it.’

‘Forty-five minutes confirmed. I understand, General.’

‘If you do not report back within that timeframe with good news, be advised that a bunker-buster missile will penetrate the facility no later than the sixtieth second of the forty-fifth minute.’

Denton set a timer on his watch for forty-five minutes.

‘Don’t disappoint me again, Colonel.’ The General terminated the call.

Denton checked the security camera feeds. Sophia’s team were now inside the BlueGene lab, tying up Blue Berets. The soldiers offered no resistance. In fact, they barely moved at all. She’d sedated them. How . . . humanitarian.

He snorted, left the monitors for now. He’d check back in a moment. He turned to leave, then drew to a sudden halt. His chest tightened.

Dragon Komarov blocked his exit, pistol aimed. Her forefinger rested lightly on the trigger. ‘Would you care to explain yourself, Colonel?’

Denton remained absolutely still. She was supposed to have been taken care of.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ he said.

He watched her aquamarine eyes examine him. Her forefinger still hovered over the trigger.

Her gaze wandered over the dead control-room operators on the floor. ‘Who is responsible for this?’

Speaking slowly, with a hint of exasperation, he said, ‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out.’ He kept still, making no sudden movements. ‘Clearly, the facility has been compromised.’

‘Yes, I can see that. By whom?’ She didn’t lower her pistol.

How much of the phone conversation had she heard? Did she really not know or was she testing him?

Denton decided to stick as closely as possible to what he’d said to the General.

‘Insurgents. Former operatives of ours. While we waste our time pointing weapons at each other, they—’ he pointed to the other side of the room, as though Sophia’s team were standing right there ‘—are murdering innocent people. Scientists. Civilians. They’ve already compromised our surveillance. They’re inside the BlueGene lab right now.’ Denton shook his head. ‘As the facility administrator, you cannot allow this to happen.’

There wasn’t even a flicker of expression on Dragon Komarov’s face. ‘How could they have done this without our knowledge?’

‘Facial recognition is offline.’ Denton stepped back until he could feel the edge of the desk against his hamstrings. ‘They’ve most certainly had inside help.’

Komarov stepped from the doorway into the room. She lowered her pistol slightly. There was something about her face, her razor-sharp cheekbones and jawline, that repulsed him. Her eyes had as much warmth as a syringe.

Denton turned his back on her, moved his suppressor from atop the briefcase and opened his sports bag. He handed her a self-contained breathing apparatus pack—tank, pressure regulator and face mask—and picked one up for himself. The SCBAs were pre-configured and ready to use. He hadn’t planned to use one on her, but there wasn’t much choice.

‘You might need this,’ he said.

‘What is going on, Colonel?’

Her voice wavered slightly, almost bringing a smile to his face.

‘Just a precaution,’ he said. Too casually. ‘In case the terrorists attempt to use chemical weapons.’

‘Such as?’

‘Ours.’

He slung the tank, full of filtered compressed air, over his shoulders by its straps.

Dragon Komarov began doing the same, only faster, more frantically.

‘Get in contact with those lurid super-soldiers of yours,’ she ordered. ‘Have them track down the insurgents and kill them.’

She secured her face mask and turned the valve on the regulator, letting the air fill the mask.

‘They’re called shocktroopers, Doctor. And I’ve already given the order.’

Denton fastened his SCBA belt buckle around his waist. He didn’t bother putting on his mask.

‘Without my permission?’

She sounded pissed off—as opposed to just pissed—but then her anger seemed to fade. Her pistol dropped to the floor. Her body buckled slightly. Staggering, she moved quickly to the table Denton was standing in front of. He sidestepped. Her fingers clawed at a keyboard instead. She collapsed onto an office chair. And there she stayed, her breathing erratic and rapid.

‘Although I may have uttered some . . . profanities when you assigned me from Project GATE to the swine flu project, it wasn’t all bad,’ Denton said. ‘We’ve made some solid progress.’ He slipped his shoulders from the tank’s straps, then held the tank before him. ‘You see, the biggest problem was that the infection and lethality of the virus was too prolonged. We needed something that could kill in minutes.’ He walked towards her, leaned in, his face inches from hers. ‘We needed a rapid delivery system. So I thought, why not carry the virus on a neurotoxin, in aerosol form?’ He tapped her visor with one finger.

Dragon Komarov tried to move, probably to attack him, but the attempt was sluggish and comical. It looked like a great deal of effort for her even to speak.

‘What . . . did you . . .?’

Denton lowered his tank to the floor, then fetched her pistol. ‘All Project GATE operatives and staff are inoculated, of course. I don’t suppose you requested an inoculation when you transferred here?’ He smiled. ‘Oh, I forgot to mention: I laced your oxygen tank with tetrodotoxin. You know, the same toxin found in blue-ringed octopi and puffer fish. And here’s a little known fact for you: tetrodotoxin has no known antidote. Of course, tetrodotoxin in aerosol form isn’t potent enough to stop you breathing. That’s where our strain of H1N1 swine flu comes into play. Although it sounds difficult, it was really a piece of cake. All we had to do was modify a single gene—the H1 hemagglutinin—for human adaptation.’

He noticed her fingers move a fraction, then stop. She probably couldn’t feel them any more.

‘That’s the first stage: paresthesia. The next stage follows not long after.’ He ripped her mask off. ‘Headaches, abdominal pain, nausea—’

She vomited.

‘And vomiting.’

Her arms twitched, then fell limp.

‘The third stage introduces the beginnings of paralysis, respiratory distress, speech problems, shortness of breath and mental impairment.’

Denton grasped the regulator and switched off her contaminated air supply.

She was no longer moving, her face glazed in sweat. Saliva trickled from one side of her mouth. Her gaze was transfixed on him.

He stepped out of her line of sight. Her gaze did not follow.

‘And the fourth stage: complete paralysis. You can’t speak and you can’t swallow but you are completely conscious. You can hear and understand everything I’m saying.’ He paused to observe her carefully.

Komarov, still slumped in the chair, continued to stare ahead. She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t say a word.

‘As we speak—or as I speak, anyway—the virus is triggering a cytokine storm inside your lungs,’ Denton said. ‘That’s what happens when a healthy and vigorous immune system like yours overreacts in response to the virus. Cells from your immune system are invading your lungs’ alveoli, disrupting all manner of delicate processes.’

Denton clasped his hands at the small of his back and stood before her so she could see him. ‘That, my friend, is pulmonary edema. And the beauty of this virus is it works better on healthy people than it does on the sick.’

Dragon Komarov’s face turned a peculiar shade of blue. Denton only had to wait a moment longer until she stopped breathing.

‘I could just shoot you,’ he said, ‘but this is a lot more fun.’

He checked the monitors. Sophia’s team were hard at work on the BlueGene supercomputer. Montoya was with them. Hostage or accomplice, either way he was helping them. Jay was helping too, but that wasn’t unexpected. Denton had given him orders to do exactly that. And he would report in soon enough.

‘Oscar Five Delta to all units,’ Denton said to his Blue Beret teams. ‘X-Rays are in BlueGene lab. Maintain positions. Over.’

‘Echo Four India to Oscar Five Delta. We have visual of BlueGene exterior and we ain’t seen no X-Rays enter or leave since we got here. Over.’

‘Echo Four Golf to Oscar Five Delta. We have no visual of X-Rays, over.’

Denton felt a lump in his throat. He glanced from one monitor to another.

‘How can you not see what’s right in front of you?’ he whispered, to himself.

He held the push-to-talk button. ‘Oscar Five Delta to Echo Four Golf. When did you have last visual? Over.’

‘Echo Four Golf to Oscar Five Delta. Never had visual. Moved in position ten minutes ago, as ordered. Over.’

On the camera feeds, Sophia’s and her team’s movements seemed sluggish. It didn’t look quite right. Sophia had delayed the security footage.

He punched the monitor. It bounced off the table and landed at Dragon Komarov’s feet. His gaze moved up over her lifeless body, her limbs hanging at her sides, and he couldn’t help but smile. Sophia was his best operative, after all.

He reached for his com.