Quantum - Tom Grace

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movers watching the hallway. ‘How’s it look, Pavel?’

      ‘Clear,’ Pavel replied confidently. Not so much as a shadow had moved in the empty hallway.

      Dmitri smiled, proud of the professionalism his younger brother displayed. Pavel was on point, checking the path ahead as the unit moved forward.

      ‘Move out,’ Dmitri ordered.

      Pavel strode into the hallway, followed by Yuri and Dmitri, who guided a flat four-wheeled cart. Josef took up position a few steps behind the others, covering the unit’s rear. Sandstrom’s lab was down at the far end of the corridor.

      ‘This looks like the last of it,’ Dmitri announced as they entered the lab, his English flawlessly Middle American.

      Dmitri’s men spread out, moving toward the last remaining boxes. Paramo was seated in a chair near where Kelsey stood by the windows; Sandstrom sat up on a lab bench, reclining back on his elbows.

      As he closed within ten feet of Sandstrom, Dmitri’s right hand deftly slipped to the holster nestled in the small of his back and drew his weapon. The muscles in his body coiled tightly as he gripped the Air Taser with both hands and fired.

      Propelled by a charge of compressed nitrogen, two needlelike metal probes silently flew toward Sandstrom. In less than a tenth of a second, the twin probes tore through the physicist’s cotton shirt and struck his chest. A pulsating electrical current raced from Dmitri’s weapon, through the probes, into Sandstrom’s body.

      Sandstrom shuddered involuntarily and fell back onto the lab bench. His head struck the thick black countertop with a muffled thud.

      Across the room Yuri and Pavel’s attack mirrored that of their leader. Only the briefest change in expression on the faces of Kelsey and Paramo preceded their sudden incapacitation.

      ‘Josef,’ Dmitri called out.

      ‘Corridor is clear,’ the Georgian replied.

      ‘The man with the red hair, Kilkenny, he is missing. His truck is still parked by the loading dock. He must be somewhere in the building. Keep an eye out for him.’

      As the Taser’s pulsating charge attacked Paramo’s nervous system, the aging physicist’s heartbeat became erratic. The muscle fluttered, struggling to find a steady rhythm until the already weakened organ stopped beating altogether.

      ‘I think I killed the old one,’ Pavel announced unemotionally. ‘He’s not shaking like the others.’

      ‘So much the better for him,’ Yuri replied. ‘Put those boxes on the cart while I set the explosives.’

      Yuri pulled the quilted blanket off the cart, uncovering four pistols in shoulder holsters and a pair of sealed translucent bags, each containing about a quart of fluid. As Pavel loaded the last two boxes, Yuri picked up the two plastic bags and carefully placed them on the lab bench near the sink. He then closed the drain and turned on the water until the sink was about a third full.

      ‘Ready,’ Yuri announced.

      Dmitri looked at his watch. ‘On my mark.’ The second hand swept closer to twelve. ‘Now.’

      Yuri placed the light-colored bag into the water first, followed by the darker bag. Tiny bubbles immediately began to form on the surface of the bags.

      ‘We have five minutes,’ Yuri announced as he hastily strapped on his shoulder holster and checked the Glock.

      Dmitri nodded. ‘Pavel,’ he said, handing his brother one of the silenced pistols, ‘take the point.’

       6

       JUNE 23

       South Bend, Indiana

      Kilkenny carefully worked his way back into Nieuwland Hall and up the building’s center staircase. He encountered no one during his ascent to the second floor. On the landing, he cautiously peered through the slit window of wiremesh glass in the fire door. The hallway on the other side was empty, but the window was too narrow to provide a view of Sandstrom’s lab farther down the hall.

      Slowly Kilkenny pulled open the fire door until a quarter-inch gap appeared. Sandstrom’s lab was on the same side of the corridor as the stairwell, so he studied the reflection in the glass doors of a display case on the opposite wall. There he saw one of the movers standing watch beside the lab door.

      He had to assume that Kelsey, Sandstrom, and Paramo were in the lab with four armed men. For the sake of the two physicists and the woman he loved, Kilkenny focused on the situation at hand rather than trying to fathom the motive behind it.

      The faint hiss of static filled his right ear, as it had for the past several minutes. Unable to raise their man on the loading dock, the Russians had gone off the air completely.

      The reflected image in the glass moved as the man in the doorway stepped back into the lab. Another man appeared and moved out into the corridor. He moved cautiously. Visually sweeping the entire length of the corridor, he held a suppressed semi-automatic pistol pointed low in a two-handed grip.

      Kilkenny flattened himself against the painted cinder-block wall and slowly closed the fire door. It slid quietly into its frame. As he released the handle, the mortised latch bolts in the head and toe of the door slid home with a metallic click.

      Pavel had just raised his hand to motion the rest of the unit forward when he heard the sound of the closing door. He signaled for Dmitri and the others to remain in place while he investigated.

      ‘Damn!’ Kilkenny cursed under his breath, knowing that the errant sound had exposed his position. He quickly moved against the wall, out of view through the slit window.

      A shadow flickered in the thin strip of light beneath the stairwell door, catching Pavel’s trained eye. He moved along the wall, approaching the door from the side. With his back against the wall, Pavel inched forward until his shoulder reached the edge of the door.

      He adjusted his grip on the Glock and folded his arms close to his chest as he filled his lungs with air. Exhaling with a low, throaty growl, he stepped forward, spun around, and struck the door with a vicious kick. The panic bar slammed into the hollow metal skin of the door, releasing the latch bolts. The door sprang open, and Pavel lunged into the stairwell.

      As the Russian leveled his weapon, Kilkenny swung his left arm down in a sharp block that drove Pavel’s forearms toward the floor. He then wrapped his hand tightly around the barrel of the Glock. Pavel squeezed the trigger.

      Click.

      Kilkenny smothered the action of the Glock with his grip. He then brought the muzzle of his own pistol against the side of Pavel’s head and fired twice. Blood and bone exploded against the gray metal door.

      Pavel shuddered and collapsed to the floor. Kilkenny quickly scanned the hallway for more threats, then retreated down the stairwell.

       7

       JUNE 23

       South Bend, Indiana

      Pavel’s offensive was over almost as soon as it started. Two muffled shots and then silence. Dmitri moved to the stairwell and found the door held ajar by the body of his dead brother. He quickly shut down the rage he felt, knowing he still had a mission to complete. There would be time to mourn, and to seek revenge.

      ‘Pavel’s dead,’ Dmitri said quietly as he went back into the lab. ‘Yuri, time?’

      ‘Three minutes, forty-five seconds,’

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