PART TWO: TO HELL AND BACK

Chapter Six: Four Horsemen

The room was thick with the stench of cordite. Everything was soaked and splattered with fresh blood.

I made my way over the broken tiles, over hundreds of empty shell casings, to the entrance to the Manufacturing Floor. The comforting weight of the MP5 bounced gently across my chest. They were on to me. They'd showed their hand. More men would be waiting for me behind those doors, a whole army, maybe. And, with any luck, Mack Luther. I still had plenty of answers I wanted from him.

I slid the card into the door panel. It flashed up green and the door opened to reveal an elevator. I snatched the card and walked in, hitting the button.

The elevator rumbled down into the bowels of the base. To the vaccine. I felt like I was lining up for the touchdown, like Indiana Jones in the Holy Grail. It was so goddamn close – and so were all the answers.

The door slid open at the bottom and I stepped out on the manufacturing floor. They'd left out all the pretension here. There were no tile murals, no stainless steel borders and paint. Just bare concrete walls, plain white tiles. Two huge steel vats sat in the middle of the room, a giant metal mill churning some white liquid round. Big yellow biohazard signs slapped on the side. Angry signs reading GAS MASKS MUST BE WORN AT ALL TIMES! A huge network of pipes leading off into smaller side rooms. Lots of computers and technology, monitoring the vats.

I stepped down and stared at the vats. So it was the breath of these things that had killed a thousand. This was where it all began. Had I ever expected to find something like this here, even in the depths of my own fears?

I walked past, to the metal walkway that ran around the other side of the room. A small, dull door was set in the concrete wall, labelled with some meaningless letters and numbers. I scaled the metal staircase and pushed it open, exiting in a small black corridor with little doors set on the side.

Check every door. It's here somewhere.

I gently pushed open the first door and entered a white monitoring station, like something from a sixties B-movie. A large black window, one I'd never noticed from the manufacturing floor, looked out at those noxious vats. I walked towards them.

As I watched Mack Luther emerged from a side door, flanked by two goons. He was talking into a cell-phone.

I scanned the desk, found a monitoring button. Slammed the noise sensors up. There was a lot of static, but I could make out the conversation clearly. Luther wasn't capable of talking quietly.

"Yeah, it's done, boss," he said. "The trucks are gone. You can tell the chief it's all been taken care of… Yeah, I'm on it now. Just securing the vaccine prototype, then I'm lighting the blue touch paper." He cackled loudly, like a demon. There was a gap, then he sobered up. "Okay… Yes, boss, it's under control. Just a minor setback. I've got twelve men on him upstairs… Not yet, but it's only a matter of time, right? He's just one man… Nah. There's no chance of failure. If you think there is, you don't know my men."

The static got so loud that his words were lost briefly. I slammed a fist down on the monitors and Luther's grating voice cut back through it.

"Have you spoken to our employer?... Good. Then by morning AvaMed will be the largest pharmaceutical corporation in the country. And when the virus is loose, that little vial will make us all a fortune… I'll bring it round soon, boss… Okay… Good night."

He hung up, slipped his phone in his jacket pocket and mumbled something. He and his men began to walk towards me.

So that settled it. The vaccine was here.

I stood up, the MP5 close at hand. I slammed a clip home. There could be no backing down now. Mona's life lay in my hands.

I slipped through the door and headed down the corridor. There was a heavy steel door at the end, but it didn't appear to be locked.

If my guess was right, if all the pieces had slammed home as neatly as they seemed to, that made no sense. AvaMed were preparing to unleash the virus on the whole of America and beyond, killing thousands. They'd wait until the crisis worsened, then they'd throw down their ace – the Miasma vaccine. Their victims would be so desperate that they'd happily throw any amount of money at the corporation, and they'd reap in a fortune. As well as fulfilling the needs of whatever shadowy Mr Big had commissioned this crazy scheme.

Which meant that AvaMed's fortune was behind this unlocked door.

I pressed the button on the side and the door slid open, revealing a small black room with a steel case lying nonchalantly on a table. A single white light glowed on its perfect stainless steel surface.

I stepped into the light and grabbed the briefcase. Sealed by a small numeric code. Never mind. Get it off later. This place would be a pile of steaming rubble in less than an hour. Best to just get the hell out now.

I spun around and realised what I'd done. My big mistake. Just when I thought I had Lady Luck on my side for once.

"Put that down, Payne," Mack Luther said solemnly. He was flanked by a whole squadron of heavily armed goons. No escape. I rested a hand on the MP5.

Luther wasn't about to give me a chance to escape. Before I'd raised my hand he'd slammed the butt of a revolver straight into my jaw. My head exploded, stars flying in the hazy void. I slumped to my knees and the bastard delivered a kick square in the gut.

Hands reached down, pulling the briefcase away from me. Damn it, Max. So close. So damn close. I tightened my grip but the goons shrugged me off. All a failure.

"You want me to put a bullet in him?" I heard a voice say, a thousand miles off.

"Why waste it?" Luther replied. "Trigger the detonators. That'll take care of him." His voice, fading, moving away. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting with Mr Grant."

The door slamming shut, locking. Sealing me in. It's over.

No.

I pushed up on my knees, my head still swimming, the air getting thick around me. I had a name. I knew where the AvaMed building was. That was enough to work with. I wasn't about to lie here and give up on Mona. I owed her more than that. No way was I giving up now.

I choked back a handful of painkillers, wincing at the medicinal taste stinging the back of my raw throat, and stumbled to the steel door. Banged against it. Locked. Shut pretty damn tight. From somewhere an alarm went off and someone cried out. Not much time.

I kicked the door hard. It didn't budge. Had to be at least a foot of steel. Come on, Max. Think. Think, damn you. There's got to be a way out.

I looked over the door, looking for tracks, locks, anything that would get that door down. It was a solid block, sealed in tight. Not a chance. There was a distant rumble, somewhere below me.

It can't end like this. It can't.

I turned my attentions to the room. It was pretty bare – dark concrete walls, an old table. One white light, throwing shadows everywhere. Then I saw it. A small grill, set into the floor. It wasn't much, but that air had to be coming from somewhere. And I'd seen the vents around the whole building.

I dug my fingers into the mesh grill, squeezing so tight blood trickled down my knuckles, and yanked back. It gave a little on the first tug with a reluctant rusty wail, then crumpled completely under the final heave. I tossed the grill aside and peered into the steel vent.

A straight steel passage up, pitted with little bars of glowing light. It was large enough to fit in, but gave me enough room to squeeze up against the sides and shimmy my way up. I climbed in, hoping to god I had enough time, and started to climb.

I'd made it up to the first junction when the lower part of the grill, the room I'd just been sat in, was blown out, a fireball rolling at least ten feet up the grill and searing my face. I yanked in breath and climbed faster.

I slammed through a grill on the second floor just as the fireball rolled out after me, trailing flames like something from a nightmare. The ground was rumbling now beneath me. Shards of tile dust fell in a steady stream around me.

I broke into a run. Behind me a wall exploded, showering my back in fire and plaster. Someone down the corridor screamed and the power short-circuited, leaving my passage lit by the flames behind me, all flickering red and orange.

As I hit the stairs the lower floor collapsed into fire, the C4 ripping through the tiles like a fist, hurling chairs and doors at me as I fled. My throat was pounding. The air was getting thick with smoke. I hit the first basement floor and ran full pelt for the exit.

I ran outside into the hot summer air just as the warehouse exploded, fire ripping through the tiled roof and a huge roar filling the air. I was thrown to the floor, rolling to a stop on the gravel. Behind me the warehouse collapsed into fire, ash rising on the summer breeze like dirty snow.

I stood, brushing the soot and sweat off me, watching as fire rolled across the base and swallowed up all the evidence. Soon the fire brigade would be here, and they'd put it out, and someone would buy the land and build a condo over it, and the base that birthed miasma on to the world would be lost forever.

I no longer cared. I'd seen enough. I had a name. And a target.

To be continued…