Written in Fire

CHAPTER 25

“Okay,” Cooper said. “On the surface this is a simple breach-and-clear. But you all know the stakes. It needs to be textbook.”

The moving truck was dim and crowded, humid with the breath of thirty muscular men and women. Though Epstein had no standing army, his tactical operatives were hard core. Technically the Wardens were part of the corporate police force that provided security for the Holdfast, but to Cooper they most resembled US Army Rangers—flexible, elite forces constantly training in everything from search-and-rescue to urban warfare. They sat on benches hurriedly placed against the truck walls, automatic rifles between their knees, black body armor stretched over broad chests.

“As you know, our target is John Smith. He cannot be allowed to escape. Teams Alpha and Bravo will breach the front and rear doors at the same time, then push through, clearing room by room and meeting in the lab. Charlie Team will remain outside to secure the street and all possible exits. In addition, we have snipers already in position on nearby buildings . . .”

It had taken Epstein a bit more than an hour to fetch Shannon via helicopter. Her travel time had defined Cooper’s window to review schematics for the building and make a plan. One hour to organize an operation to catch the most dangerous man alive.

Yet brief as that was, it was longer than comfortable. By hacking the feed of government spy satellites, Epstein’s programmers had been able to confirm that Soren was telling the truth. John Smith had arrived at the facility two days ago. According to the footage, he hadn’t left yet. But for all Cooper knew he was packing his bags at that very moment. They couldn’t risk more time, not now, when they were so close.

There’s an ironic way to put it. “So close” is right. Was John Smith hiding in the Congo, or a cave in Afghanistan, or even a secret lair beneath New York?

No. The bastard has been in Tesla, not five miles from the house where your children sleep. He’s been preparing a biological weapon right around the corner.

As grave as the situation was, it was funny, but there hadn’t been time to laugh about it. This was his last shot. He had to be sure he thought of everything. For years Cooper had hunted Smith, tracked him, studied him. Pored over his chess matches, watched footage of his speeches. Twice he’d caught up with the man: a year ago, when Smith had fed him half-truths that aimed him like a warhead at his own government, and then again a few weeks ago, when he and Bobby Quinn—Bobby—had hijacked Smith only to decide executing him might turn him into a martyr.

Now everything he had learned in that time, every pattern he had built, every sense of the man’s tactics was about to be tested.

“Shannon.” He turned to stare at her. It had taken all his effort not to notice the smell of her, the warmth of the spot where her thigh pressed against his. “You’re our ace.”

She brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“Let me shift through the building, make sure there are no surprises. I can do it.”

“I know,” Cooper said. “I know how good you are. That’s why I need you to play your part. No one else can.”

“But—”

“Will you trust me?” He met her eyes. “Please?”

She looked up at him, sucked the corner of her lip between her teeth, and nodded. He had a sudden urge to lean over and mash her against him, lock her in a kiss that lasted until neither could breathe.

“What about me?” Ethan looked ridiculous in tactical gear, his shoulders and arms swimming in the uniform, a helmet strapped comically to his head.

“Once we’ve cleared the building, you’re the man. Smith may already have modified his flu to include the serum. Securing that is second priority only to taking him down.” Cooper paused, scanned the ranks of commandos. “Any questions?”

None of the soldiers said anything, but he could read the tension in each of them, the way they wanted to check ammunition loads or the fit of their armor, and the way they were not doing either. Skilled professionals, nerved up—only cowboys wouldn’t be—but ready to go.

“I’ve got a question,” Ethan said.

“What is it, Doc?”

“Why is this such a bad thing?”

Looks bounced around the inside of the truck. Ethan saw them, but while he might not be a warrior, he wasn’t a coward, either. “I don’t mean taking down Smith. I mean a virus that turns people brilliant.”

Cooper said, “That’s like suggesting a rape victim should be grateful she got laid.”

“Whoa.” Ethan held up his hands. “I agree that it should be a personal choice. I didn’t make a weapon.”

“No,” Shannon said. “You just developed the technology for someone else to do it.”

“I’m a scientist. Figuring things out is my job. And before your horse gets too high, think about how the rest of us feel.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow.

“I get that it’s not always easy to be gifted,” Ethan said. “But try being normal. I mean, seriously, boo-hoo, you’re a superhero. Waa-waa, you can do things the rest of us only dream of.” He shook his head. “The way society treats abnorms, especially recently, it’s hideous. But don’t you get how much we all want what you have?”

“Neanderthals and Homo sapiens,” Shannon said quietly.

“Well . . .” Ethan shrugged. “Kind of, yeah. Abnorms are objectively better than norms. Which was true of Neanderthals and Homo sapiens, too.”

“So, what,” Cooper said, “we should just wipe out norms like Homo sapiens wiped out the Neanderthals?”

“Actually,” Ethan replied, “it wasn’t like that. The two species had conflict, no doubt, but they also did some crossbreeding. The latest research shows they coexisted for something like five thousand years. In the end, Homo sapiens won out because we were better. We had longer nascency periods, bigger brains, better symbolic capabilities. In a world of finite space and resources, we got more, so we lived and they didn’t.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“It’s not about being okay. It’s not a moral issue. It’s an evolutionary one. Evolution is an ugly, bloody process. But it’s also the reason we’re sitting here. And you might want to remember that in this example, I’m a Neanderthal, and so are my wife and my daughter.” Ethan shrugged. “If Neanderthals had a choice to become Homo sapiens, you think they wouldn’t have taken it? Wouldn’t have wanted it?”

“Two problems with that, Doc.” The truck turned a corner, and Cooper found himself leaning into the soldier beside him. “First, you just said ‘choice,’ which is exactly what Smith is not giving anyone.”

“Okay, but—”

“And second, this isn’t evolution. It’s not happening over thousands of years in a natural setting. This is your science project. It subverts the system.”

Ethan opened his mouth, but he was cut off by a loud buzz. Fingers tightened on assault weapons. Cooper’s heart kicked up, and his palms went wet. The truck didn’t slow—they were hitting hard and fast—but the sound signaled that they were a block away.

“Listen up,” Cooper said to the commandos. “I know you’ve gone up against terrorists before. This is different.” He looked down the line, meeting the eyes of each. “This is John Smith. Do. Not. Hesitate.”

The tires squealed as the driver slammed on the brakes, the truck sliding and skewing. It hadn’t quite stopped when the two soldiers nearest the back kicked the doors open in an explosion of pale sunlight, and then they were moving.

This is it. Your last chance. Win now, or lose everything.

I’m coming for you, John.