Pandemic

Clayton pulled the car into the gravel driveway of the campground two blocks behind the motel. The campground had been shut down for the winter and theirs was the only car in the lot. Staying in his seat, Clayton pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Megan, the cell I told you to run," he said into the receiver. "Can you give me exact coordinates?" He paused. "Yeah, the motel complex has twelve cabins, can you pull it up on the map? I need to know which cabin." He waited several seconds. "Okay, from the northeast corner, right?" Another pause. "Megan, there's no room for error. You're certain?" he asked. "Good. I owe you a big one."

Turning to the other two, Clayton frowned. "Okay, they're in the very last cabin we passed. Makes sense. It's the most remote and protected of the bunch." He reached for his door handle. "We're on foot from here."

After they climbed out of the car, Clayton walked around the back of his car and popped the trunk. Reaching under the mat where the spare tire was stored, he pulled out a small metal briefcase. He closed the trunk. He glanced over either shoulder, then laid the briefcase on the trunk and opened the case's latch with a key from his key ring.

Inside, foam padding separated pieces of metal. As soon as Haldane recognized the components of handguns, he felt the adrenaline leak into his system.

Clayton glanced at the other two. "Neither of you are armed, I assume?"

Haldane shook his head, while McLeod just sighed.

Clayton reached for the smaller gun. He grabbed a cartridge and clipped it into the handle. Then he grabbed the gun by the muzzle and held it out, handle-first, to Haldane and McLeod. "Glock 17. Nine-mm," he said. "Lightweight and idiot-proof. I only have the one extra. Has either of you fired a gun?"

"Point of clarification, I'm from Scotland not bleeding Texas!" McLeod said.

"I've fired a .38 caliber at the range a few times," Haldane said.

"You win." Clayton handed the gun to Haldane.

Haldane swung it in his hand, surprised by how light the weapon felt.

"Straightforward double action, semi-automatic," Clayton explained. "No safety. Squeeze and fire. Clip holds seventeen bullets. If you hold the trigger down, it will fire every two seconds."

Haldane nodded, still amazed at how weightless the weapon felt in his hand.

Clayton turned back to the briefcase. He assembled another gun, which came in more parts than the Glock 17. Just as Haldane thought Clayton was through, he reached for one last piece and screwed what Noah assumed was a silencer onto the tip of the barrel. Clayton pushed his jacket out of the way, and tucked the gun into his belt at the back of his waist.

Haldane did the same.

"The huge advantage we have here is that not only is Sabri not expecting us, he wouldn't recognize us," Clayton said. "But if he or they are watching, and I assume he is, a group of three men approaching the motel would look highly suspicious." He looked to Haldane. "You have your phone?"

Haldane pulled it out of his pocket and held it up.

Clayton reached for his. "Okay, keep my number on redial, I'll do the same with yours. I'll go ahead. Give me a five-minute head start and then meet me on the near side of the third to last cabin. You got it? The third to last!"

* * *

Gwen awoke to discover that her mouth was a kiln. She licked her lips and smacked her gums, desperate for saliva. Even before she opened her eyes, the sharp pressure at her wrists and ankles told her that she was still tied to the cot.

When she opened her eyes, everything in the room was encircled by a faint halo. Even Abdul Sabri. Hovering over her, he was shrouded in a bluish white light, making him look like a huge angel. The angel of death, she thought bleakly. She blinked hard, and when she opened her eyes again Sabri had shed his divine shadow.

"What happened?" she asked hoarsely, while trying to focus her thoughts into some kind of plan.

"You were more helpful after thiopental sodium, Dr. Savard," Sabri said in an expressionless tone that matched his face perfectly.

"What did I tell you?" she asked.

He shrugged slightly. "Enough."

She paused and swallowed again against her parched lips. She knew she needed to act soon if she were to stand a chance. "What will you do with me now?" she asked.

"You will know soon." He turned and began walking for the door.

She could feel her cell phone digging into her abdomen below the waistband of her underwear. "Major, I have to use the bathroom," she said.

Halfway to the door he stopped and looked over his shoulder, but he didn't say a word.

"I mean, I really have to go, now," she said.

He shrugged again. "So go."

"That's not very dignified," Gwen said. "I thought you had more class than that."

He started for the door again.

"That is how you would treat a woman?" she yelled after him. "Your religion preaches that as acceptable?"

He stopped at the doorway without turning.

Gwen felt a flicker of hope, as he seemed to vacillate, shifting from one foot to the other.