Black Order (Sigma Force 3)

They reached another door. The room beyond must be huge, as it was spaced a distance from the fetal lab. Gray noted the name on the door.

XERUM 525.

He matched gazes with Marcia.

"Not serum" Gray said.

"Xerum," Marcia read, shaking her head in a lack of understanding.

Gray used his stolen card. The green light flashed, the lock released, and he pushed inside. The room's lights flickered on. The air here smelled vaguely corrosive with a hint of ozone. The floor and walls were dark.

"Lead," Marcia said, touching the walls.

Gray didn't like the sound of that, but he had to know more. The cavernous space looked like a storage facility for hazardous wastes. Shelves stretched deep into the room. Stacked on them were yellow ten-gallon drums with the number 525 stamped on them.

Gray remembered his concern about a biowarfare agent. Or did the drums hold some type of fissionable material, nuclear waste? Was that the reason the room was lead-lined?

Marcia showed little concern. She crossed to the shelves. Each shelf spot bore a label, marking each drum. "Albania," she read, then stepped to the next one. "Argentina."

Other countries were named, in alphabetical order.

Gray stared across the shelves. There had to be a hundred drums at least.

Marcia glanced to him. He understood the sudden concern in her eyes.

Oh, no…

Gray hurried into the room, searching the shelves, stopping periodically to read a label: Belgium…Finland…Greece…

He ran on.

At last he reached the spot he was looking for.

UNITED STATES.

He recalled what Marcia had overheard, something about Washington, D.C. A possible attack. Gray stared down the rows of drums. From all the countries named here, it wasn't just Washington under threat. At least not yet. Gray remembered Baldric's concern about Painter, about Sigma. They were his most immediate threat.

To compensate, Baldric must have moved up his timetable.

Above the label marked united states, the shelf was empty.

The corresponding drum of Xerum 525 was gone.

7:45 a.m. EST

GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"ETA on MedSTAR?" the radio dispatcher asked. He sat before the hospital's touch-screen program, wireless headset in place.

The helicopter crackled back, "En route. Two minutes out."

"The ER is asking for an update." Everyone had heard about the shootout on Embassy Row. Homeland Security protocols were in effect. Calls and alarms were being raised throughout the city. Confusion reigned at the moment.

"Embassy medical personnel pronounced two on the spot. Two of their own. South African nationals, including the ambassador. But two Americans are also down."

"Status?"

"One dead…one critical."

14 MENAGERIE

1:55 p.m. SOUTH AFRICA

Fiona listened at the doorway, Taser in hand. Voices approached the first-floor landing. Terror strangled her. Whatever reserve of adrenaline had been sustaining her for the past twenty-four hours was reaching its end. Her hands shook, her breathing remained shallow and rapid.

The gagged and bound guard, the one who'd grabbed her, lay sprawled behind her. She'd had to shock him again when the bloke had begun to moan.

The voices approached her hiding spot.

Fiona tensed.

Where was Gray? He had been gone almost an hour.

Two people approached her door. She recognized one of their voices. It was the blond bitch who had sliced her palm. Ischke Waalenberg. She and her companion spoke Dutch, but Fiona was fluent in the language.

"…key cards," Ischke said angrily. "I must have lost mine when I fell."

"Well, dear zuster, you are home and safe now."

Zuster. Sister. So her companion was her brother.

"We'll change the codes as a precaution," he added.

"And no one has found the two Americans or the girl?"

"We have all the borders of the estate under double guard. We're confident that they're still on the grounds. We'll find them. And grootvader has a surprise."

"What sort of surprise?"

"Insurance that no one leaves the estate alive. Remember he did take DNA samples from them when they first arrived."

Ischke laughed, chilling Fiona's blood. The voices wandered away.

"Come." The brother's voice faded down the stairs as they descended toward the main floor. " Grootvader wants us all downstairs."

Their voices trailed to a stop near the bottom of the staircase. With her ear pressed to the door, Fiona could make out no other words, but it sounded like an argument over some matter. But she had heard enough.

No one leaves the estate alive.

What were they planning? Ischke's icy laugh still rang in her head, mirthless and satisfied. Whatever was being plotted, they seemed certain of its outcome. But what did their DNA samples have to do with it?

Fiona knew there was only one way to find out. She had no idea when Gray would return and feared time was running out for all of them. They would need to know what the danger was…if they were to avoid it.

That meant only one thing.

She pocketed her Taser and took out her feather duster. She twisted the dead bolt and unlocked the door. For this hunt, she needed all the skills from the street. She pulled open the door and slipped out of the room. Pausing, her back to the door, she pushed it closed with her rear end. She had never felt so alone, so purely frightened. Reconsidering, she rested her hand on the doorknob. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, offering up a prayer, not to God, but to someone who had taught her how courage came in many forms, including sacrifice.

"Mutti…" she prayed.

She missed her foster mother, Grette Neal. Old secrets from the past had killed the woman, and now new secrets threatened Fiona and the others. For any hope of survival, she needed to be as brave and selfless as Mutti.

The voices below drifted away down the staircase.

Fiona sidled closer, feather duster raised in defense. She peered over the first-landing balcony, just enough to spot the white-blond heads of the twins. Their words reached her again.

"Don't keep grootvader waiting," the brother said.

"I'll be right down. I just want to check on Skuld. Make sure she is back in her kennel. She was quite aroused, and I fear she might harm herself in her frustration."

"The same might be said of you, my sweet zuster."

Fiona took a step closer. The brother touched his sister's cheek, creepily intimate.

Ischke leaned into his touch, then pulled away. "I won't be long."

Her brother nodded and stepped toward the central lift. "I will let grootvader know." He pressed a button and the doors opened.