Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Sarah might just be in full-blown panic. The agency training hadn’t taught her how to navigate the very heart of her soul being in jeopardy. Her son was in this because of her.
She lifted the flap to peek out and caught Ryder climbing from the trench. His steps were deliberate as he made a beeline for the tent. For her. After a quick glance up at the peak loaded with snow that he kept going on about, he hung his head as he hiked in her direction.
Oh . . . no . . . Now was the moment of truth.
The two men left to guard her in the tent hadn’t prevented her from peeking out and apparently had no concern she would go anywhere. Where would she go on this mountain? Still, they remained to make sure she didn’t try something. Their leverage over her had everything to do with her son.
The taller one glanced out of the tent and then looked at the other. “Get ready.”
Ready? For what? Did they think Ryder posed a threat? The men had already disarmed both her and Ryder. Both men tensed. On the inside she smiled—Ryder wasn’t a man to be ignored. She stepped to the back of the tent and eyed those boxes, knowing what they contained. Understanding what came next.
A chill had gripped her, drilling down to her marrow.
Most of it due to their current predicament, but some of it also due to the freezing temperatures.
They could all freeze to death before this was over, if nature won this battle.
Whatever. She almost didn’t care. She dreaded what came next, but then again, it was progress and might just beat standing in this tent with two goons at over seven thousand feet in the snow and cold.
Like the men, she needed to “get ready,” so she braced herself for what came next, which was going into that unstable plane wreckage to extract that horrific bioweapon.
Was it some kind of insanity that she’d been holding on to hope that Ryder would somehow gain control over Reid and his entire team and force his hand to free them all—including Jeremy?
That Reid and company would somehow instantly be released into the hands of nearby waiting authorities?
Yeah, waiting where? Just over that ridge beneath them?
Even a former CIA intelligence officer who worked in a non-official capacity could dream and wish and hope for the impossible.
God . . . how has it come to this? Please forgive me for driving this mission, pushing so hard when I had no idea what I was doing, what Pandora’s box I was opening.
Malcolm had warned her, and she hadn’t listened.
Ryder stepped into the tent and, shoulders lifted, took in the surroundings, his gaze finally landing on Sarah—the look in his eyes raw and intense—like he was preparing to face certain death.
Reid stepped in behind him and moved around him to get to Sarah.
He retrieved his cell and pulled up an image, which he held up to her.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Sarah dreaded what she would see.
“Open your eyes,” Reid said.
She did as he demanded and saw Jeremy’s face on this monster’s smartphone. Sarah’s heart might have stopped. Skipped a few beats. Her breath stilled. Her son’s eyes were wide with fear in his tear-streaked face. “Why, you!”
Sarah lunged at Reid, grabbing the collar of his coat, but his men tore her away, their painful grip on each arm the only thing keeping her from tearing this man to pieces.
She could no longer control her emotions, which spilled out in furious tears and sobbing gasps.
All she could think of were the words that kept repeating in her head. I’m going to kill you . . .
“Help me, Sarah,” Reid said softly, “and no one else has to get hurt.”
“No one else? You killed my brother, didn’t you?” Why? And why hadn’t they killed her once it was clear she would find her way here? Questions that needed answers—but later. Much later.
Before this monster who’d abducted her son could answer, Ryder stepped between them, blocking her line of sight to the image on the cell as if protecting her from the real and present torment.
He forced her to look at him, into his intense eyes, as if he held all the answers and would get them out of this. She no longer believed that possible.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ryder said calmly. “You don’t need to go into that wreck. I’ll do it. I’ll be the one.”
Defiance flickered in his gaze. He had a plan. He must have. He gave her a subtle nod, willing her to understand.
Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she nodded. Once the goons released her, she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “We’ll do it together,” she said.
Ryder frowned but turned to step beside her so they could both look at Reid.
“Teamwork. That’s what I was hoping for,” Reid said.
Actually, she was surprised that Reid didn’t hold her as leverage over Ryder, but all her former colleague could see was getting his hands on that cache of bioweapons.
“I’ll get out of your way while you suit up.” Reid stepped out of the tent, but his two men remained behind.
They were taking no chances. She glanced at Ryder. His jaw was tight, his expression focused. He gave her a slow nod, then opened the crate.
Sarah didn’t move. Just breathe . . .
Because right now, that’s all she could do. And, well, maybe think. Except where had that gotten her? Up on this mountain, staring down disaster—and possibly something far worse.
Because . . . hazmat suits? Her pulse skittered. She studied the one Ryder held up. Not fully encapsulated, but still serious since it was hooded and made of thick material.
“External respirators,” Ryder said. “Level B—full respiratory protection, but not fully encapsulated.”
“They know we’ve already found a vial in the cabin and handled it, don’t they?” she asked.
“Someone knows. Not sure if that information was passed on to Reid, but they had to have been planning this for a while, just waiting for this moment.”
What had Ryder done with that vial anyway?
Maybe she and Ryder had made a foolish mistake, and something was inside their systems working havoc on them even now, ticking away like a silent time bomb.
That could mean everyone here was doomed.
Or someone here actually understood the bioweapon enough to make a judgment call.
She’d need to get checked out before she held her son.
Oh . . . Jeremy. No tears. Not now. No more of those until she held him again. Drawing in a deep breath, she assisted Ryder in unpacking the crate.
She lifted one of the suits. The material crinkled in her hands, thick and rubbery. Inside, it was lined with what looked like thermal protection. This thing was massive. “Uh . . . Ryder?”
“The gloves and boots seal at the cuffs and ankles. The hooded top goes over the full-face respirator.”
Still . . . serious.
I can’t do this. She swallowed hard. Her pulse quickened.
“You can’t wear your coat, but keep on the rest of the layers,” Ryder said. “Here.” He tossed her socks and gloves. “These are thermal and will help keep you warm beneath the boots and gloves.”
Sarah couldn’t think of anything she hated more than this moment of donning a hazmat suit to walk out into the cold.
“At least the tent is heated,” she said.
“But out there isn’t,” Ryder said. “So move fast. This is an SCBA—a self-contained breathing apparatus—a tank and harness worn on your back. It feeds air to the full-face mask beneath the hood.”
“To keep airborne particles out.”
“Not the most comfortable thing, but it works.”
She pulled off her gloves and unzipped her coat. Ryder stepped up and helped slide it from her shoulders.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said in that reassuring tone she’d come to appreciate, and she lifted her gaze to meet his.
For a second, everything inside wanted to crack wide open.
No more cracking. No more tears. She pressed her lips into a firm line and nodded. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and turned to gear up.
Together . . . they could do this.
As she stepped into the suit, clumsy and unfamiliar, the fear hit her all over again. Her hands trembled. Her legs felt like they might give way.
Ryder appeared at her side again, already zipped and clipped into his suit.
“Here,” he said, lifting the SCBA harness onto her back.
Her heart pounded. The weight startled her, but she steadied as he guided her arms through the straps and buckled the waist.
“Tilt your chin.” He pulled the face mask gently into place. The mask sealed with a click, snug against her face.
Ryder reached over and opened the valve. The hiss of compressed air filled her ears—and her lungs. Her breath echoed inside the respirator.
Not fully enclosed, but claustrophobic all the same.
Never before had she participated in an operation that struck her with so much dread, and that terror coursed through her veins. This all felt completely surreal. She exhaled hard and tried to ignore the knot tightening in her stomach, her shaking legs that might collapse beneath her.
Her breath was too loud in her ears. She hated heights, she’d discovered, and now she hated enclosed spaces.
Just. Calm. Down.
“There’s a voice amp in the mask,” Ryder said, nodding toward the small speaker grill near her mouth.
She tapped the side of the mask, then spoke tentatively. “So, we can talk?”
“Only to those close enough to hear,” he said. “The grill has a diaphragm—it carries sound out but keeps the seal tight. No radio, just you and me, and anyone within a few feet.”
“Good.” They didn’t need the whole team listening in.
Sarah stared at her thickly gloved hands—part of the suit—and flexed her fingers.
Her hopes—if she’d had any—plummeted with her hitched breath.
If she’d only known, she might have gone a different way with her need to get justice.
At first, a quick jaunt up the mountain with a skilled guide hadn’t seemed like a bad idea.
“They seem so flimsy, I mean, if they’re supposed to protect from deadly pathogens.”
“The suits block splash and particulates. The SCBA handles anything airborne. Unless it eats through the gear, we’re good.”
The two men watched them with smirks on their faces. Another man stepped inside. Dean. She couldn’t stomach the sight of him.
“The tanks are only good for an hour,” he said.
She wanted to hurl accusations. Spy. Traitor. But something about his expression—quiet, cautious—stopped her. What was it? He couldn’t speak freely. Not with the gunmen watching.
Reid stepped inside. “What’s the holdup in here? Time is wasting. Get in and get out.”
“Before we freeze or run out of oxygen,” Ryder said, his voice sounding muffled through the mask, but amplified enough they could hear.
But his words stunned Sarah. She’d only been thinking about the bioweapon, but other dangers pressed in on them.
Reid shrugged. “You’ve got skills. That’s why Sarah chose you. I know you can make it work.”
This is real. This is real. Her heart rate kicked up, and she thought she might hyperventilate.
Factor in the altitude and their additional exertion, they could find themselves with an oxygen debt. Honestly, she wasn’t entirely sure this was necessary, then again . . . bioweapon, hello.
One of the many thoughts that had been rolling around inside settled in the forefront of her mind, and she had to say it.
“You put us in these suits and send us in first, sure, but we aren’t trained to handle this kind of thing. If you want this bioweapon so badly, why didn’t you come prepared beyond the suits?”
He smiled that weird, inappropriate, smirky smile. “Dr. Kepler?”
A man stepped inside. He wore a suit of his own, and she could just make out that he was late forties, maybe, with a sharp, intelligent look in his eyes.
“Meet Dr. Kepler,” Reid said. “He’ll go with you and oversee things. He’s trained in handling biothreat environments. He’ll instruct you.”
While she was grateful that someone who actually knew what he was doing would join them, she clearly saw now that Reid had planned this all along. I really did lead him to the monster sleeping on the mountain.
“Dr. Kepler,” Sarah said, “I need to ask—why Level B? We’re not fully encapsulated. Why not Level A if this is as dangerous as they’re making it sound?”
Kepler gave her a calm, assessing look, though a giddy excitement sparked in his eyes.
He wanted to be here. “I’m familiar with Alpha-X.
It’s a bioweapon—engineered for extreme lethality—but not designed for aerosolization.
It only poses a risk if you come into direct contact with the compound or contaminated surfaces. ”
“So we’re not walking into a cloud of death?” she said.
“Correct,” he said. “But if the container’s compromised, particles could still linger in pockets around the wreckage. The SCBA isn’t overkill—it’s insurance.”
“Similar to botulinum toxin, also created during World War II,” Sarah added. She knew some history, that was all.
“Yes, very good. Called Agent X, also created at Camp Detrick’s US Army Biological Warfare Laboratory. Only, Alpha-X is many times more toxic,” Kepler added. “Hence the name Alpha. The ultimate toxic creation.”
Sarah frowned. “I don’t get it. Dead is dead, right?”
Kepler’s gaze held hers. “Not exactly. With Alpha-X, a dose smaller than a grain of sand can kill—and in seconds, not hours. One careless breath, one contaminated glove, and you’re done.”
“Why is it so important to recover these vials?” She was pushing it, but she needed answers.
Kepler gave her the creepiest smile. “This is the only known source, only remaining source, of Alpha-X. Just one intact vial gives us a blueprint for re-creating it.”
And why would you want to do that? But she kept those words to herself as nausea rolled through her.
At least now I know we aren’t guinea pigs after all.
Why even use us? But Sarah would not ask that question.
The longer they continued to hold value to Reid, the longer they could live and fight another minute or day, as the saying went.
Maybe Sarah and Ryder could be used as scapegoats or blamed for the breach later.
Former Navy SEAL and Former CIA Operative Gone Rogue Unleash Deadly Weapon.
Actually . . . yeah, that had to be it.
They wouldn’t make it out alive, and even if they did, they would be a dead man and woman walking with targets on their backs.