Home > The Doomsday Key (Sigma Force #6)(53)

The Doomsday Key (Sigma Force #6)(53)
Author: James Rollins

Gorman took the help and hauled himself into the window.

As Painter pushed the senator, he heard a thunk behind him. A glance revealed a black arrowhead sticking out of the restroom’s plank door.

Oh, crap…

Painter sent the senator sailing out the window and followed on the man’s heels. Literally—he took an Italian loafer to the left eye. But it was small damage, considering the explosion that followed.

Flames and smoke blasted out the open window.

The heat rolled over them.

Painter shoved off the senator. As the blast of flames died, Painter dashed to the window, tugged the lower sash down, and swung the iron bars back in place.

Let them wonder how they’d escaped a locked room.

The confusion might buy them an extra few minutes as their pursuers continued to search the hotel.

Painter returned to Gorman’s side. “I have a car stashed two blocks away.”

They hurried off together.

Gorman puffed at his side, cradling a jammed shoulder. After a block, he stared over at Painter and asked an existential question. “Who the hell are you?”

“Just your everyday civil servant,” Painter muttered while concentrating on another task. He resecured the throat mike to his neck and activated it. “Monk, how are you doing over there?”

Monk heard a few frazzled words in his ear, but after knocking loose his respirator, he fought a mouthful of foam. He shoved against the door, hoping it would miraculously open. It must have locked down once the foam had been triggered.

Maybe there was another way out.

Before he could move, hot water blasted from above. The foam immediately melted from the top down. The sheer volume of it collapsed in on itself. It took less then thirty seconds.

Monk glanced over at Creed. He stood there like a skinny wet dog waiting to shake. The man’s eyes were bright with shock.

“Biohazard foam,” Monk explained. “Used as a knockdown agent for airborne pathogens. We should be okay.”

Proving that, the lock clicked open at Monk’s elbow. It must have been timed to the sterilization cycle. He twisted the handle and exited into the hall.

As he stepped free, voices echoed down the hall. He had a clear view to the elevator lobby. The door stood half open as someone argued in Norwegian out in the lobby. Monk recognized the uniformed arm of a security guard.

The automated safety protocol had summoned security.

Monk froze. He couldn’t retreat back into the mushroom lab. That would surely be the first place they’d check. He had only one other option. Stepping into plain view, he hurried across the hall and placed his palm on the reader beside the other door. He held his breath as it scanned, watching the far door, praying that no one turned around.

Finally, the lock freed. With a silent sigh of thanks, he shoved the door open. He and Creed rushed inside.

Monk kept the door cracked open enough to watch the hallway.

A team of security guards, four in total, were led by a technician in a lab coat. The man looked like he had just woken up. Apparently access here required a certain level of clearance.

Monk allowed the door to slip closed, though he remained crouched where he could listen. The other lab door opened and closed. Men remained out in the hall. Monk heard them talking in low voices. He didn’t know how many. At least three, he guessed.

Now what?

“Make some room,” Creed said behind him.

Monk turned. His partner had shed his parka and donned his lab coat. He’d also dried his hair and finger-combed it roughly in place. Creed stepped into the anteroom. While Monk had been manning the door, his partner had gone into the larger room with the glass-walled apiaries.

“What are you doing?” Monk asked, eyeing him up and down.

Creed moved aside. Beyond the closed inner door, a stir of movement drew Monk’s eye. In the outer room, a thin cloud of bees swirled and gathered.

“What did you do?” Monk asked.

Creed lifted an arm. In his hand, he held a meshed drawer. “I stole the queen.” Creed pointed to the left. “And I broke the hive seal.”

Monk frowned. From one of the apiaries, a thick column of bees boiled out where the drawer used to be.

“But why?” Monk asked.

Beyond the door, the bees gathered into a growing swarm.

“They’re definitely Africanized,” Creed said as he eyeballed his captured queen. “Very aggressive.”

“That’s great, but again—why?”

“To get us out of here.” Creed pointed to the anteroom’s inner door. “Open it when I say now. But keep behind the door.”

Monk began to understand. He switched places with Creed and moved to the anteroom’s inner door. Creed took his post by the hallway door and watched the gathering swarm of bees.

The cloud now hugged against the anteroom’s glass door and walls, drawn by their queen’s trail. Buzzing grew so loud it made Monk’s skin crawl.

Creed continued to wait. He placed the drawer with the queen on the floor. In the other room the swarm grew so thick that it blocked the light.

“Be ready,” Creed said as he straightened back up.

Monk grabbed the handle of his door.

With a final swipe through his hair, Creed faced the door and pulled it open. Monk was blocked from view, but he heard the startled outbursts of the security guards out in the hallway.

Creed put on an air of irritation and snapped at them in Norwegian.

As the guards struggled to decide if the new technician was a threat or not, Creed kicked the drawer across the floor toward the guards.

“Now!” he yelled.

Monk yanked his door open and crowded behind it.

The swarm immediately swept into the anteroom like an angry fist.

Creed dropped back and dragged his door fully open. With the way clear to their queen, the hive shot into the hall in a thick cloud. Panicked, one of the guards fired a wild shot.

A mistake.

Monk knew enough about Africanized bees to know they were sensitive to loud noises.

Screams followed, which only made matters worse.

Creed lunged over and grabbed the sleeve of Monk’s jacket. Time to go. Monk followed Creed out the door. There was no need for stealth. Four guards writhed in the center of the swarm, covered thickly in a stinging mass. The bees filled mouths and crawled up noses.

Monk and Creed sprinted down the hall.

A few ambitious bees gave chase. Monk got stung several times, but the swarm remained close to their queen. With his long legs, Creed reached the door to the elevator lobby first. He pounded through. Monk slammed the door closed behind him.

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