sighed as he accepted the fact that he could not save Ghassan.
Once he decided, he did not wait. As the ear-splitting sounds of gunshots continued, Jon yanked open the splintered rear door. The screams of the injured in front echoed through the bullet-riddled shop. He gave the woman a reassuring smile, took her hand, and peered out into a dark alley so narrow and deep, even the wind had little room to blow. He tugged, pulling her behind, and slid out into the passageway.
Cradling the infant close in one arm, she followed as they ran two doors to the left. And froze.
Military vehicles screeched to a stop at both ends of the alley. Soldiers jumped out and pounded toward them. They were caught. Trapped in the Republican Guards' snare.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
1:04 A.M., Wednesday, October 22
Frederick, Maryland
Specialist Four Adele Schweik awoke with an abrupt start. Next to her ear pulsed the sharp, unnerving alarm from the sensor she had planted in the Russell woman's office a half-mile away at USAMRIID. Instantly alert, she turned off the annoying blast, jumped from bed, and activated the video camera she had also installed in the distant office.
In her dusky bedroom, she sat at her desk and stared at the monitor until a figure dressed in black appeared in Russell's office. Apprehensively she studied the intruder. He--- or she--- looked like an alien invader, but he moved with the fluidity of a cat, and a swift purpose that told Schweik he had broken into guarded buildings before. The figure wore an antiflash hood with respirator and a black flak vest. The vest was state-of-the-art-it would stop cold the bullets of most pistols and submachine guns.
As stiffly alert in her nightgown as she was in her daytime uniform, she stayed before the glowing screen long enough to be certain of the intruder's intention: He was conducting a thorough search of Sophia Russell's office. In a rush of adrenaline she yanked off her nightgown, dressed in her camos, and raced out to her car.
In a darkened RV a block from the entrance to Fort Detrick, Marty Zellerbach glared unhappily at his computer screen. His face was pinched with worry, and his soft body slumped in exaggerated despair. He had taken his Mideral seven hours ago, and as its effects had faded he had finished a brilliant program to automatically switch relay routes randomly, assuring no one could trace his electronic footprints ever again.
But that achievement had not led to success in either of his two main objectives: Sophia Russell's other phone calls, if they existed, remained stubbornly erased, and Bill Griffin's tracks had been too well covered.
He needed to find a creative solution, which was a challenge he would welcome under different circumstances. But now he was anxious. There was so little time, and the truth was... he had been working on both problems all along, and he still had no breakthrough on either. Plus there was the fact that he was frightened for Jon, who had willingly vanished into Iraq. And--- as much as he distrusted people in general--- he had no desire to see vast quantities of them erased, which was sure to be their fate if the virus was allowed to continue its rampage.
These were the moments he had spent his life avoiding: His well-honed self-interest had just collided with his deepest, darkest secret.
No one knew he harbored a streak of altruism. He never hinted at it and certainly would never admit it, but he actually thought kindly of human babies, old people with cantankerous dispositions, and adults who quietly did charity work without being paid. He also gave away his entire yearly trust income to a variety of worthy causes around the world. He made plenty to cover his living expenses by solving cyber-problems for individuals, companies, and the government, and he always had that pleasant savings account from which he had drawn fifty thousand dollars for Jon.
He sighed. He could feel the nervous edginess that told him he was close to needing another pill. But his mind ached to escape into the unknown where he could be his liberated, exciting self. As he thought that, bright colors flashed somewhere ahead on the horizon, and the world seemed to expand in ever-larger waves of possibilities.
This was that fertile time when he was close to losing control, and there was every reason he should. He had to figure out how to check Sophia Russell's phone logs for accuracy, and he desperately needed to find Bill