Looking up again, he called out, 'Charlie!'
This time the dog's ears pricked up.
'Bet Fuss.
'
The dog began backing away from Quinn, then paused.
'Charlie!'
The dog gave Quinn one last look, then ran off to join his master.
The man walked back over to the apartment building and opened the door. A few seconds later, he and the dog disappeared inside. Quinn waited to make sure they were gone, then stood and jogged across the lot.
A chain-link fence separated the row of trees at the back of the parking lot from the field. Quinn grabbed the fence and gave it a gentle shake. He could climb over it, but since it was so loose there was no way he could do it quietly. There had to be at least one of Borko's men stationed at the rear of the water plant. The noise of the fence would betray Quinn before he could even reach the top. Going over was out.
Quinn searched along the fence looking for a different option. He knew he could just cut through the fence, but that kind of handiwork was not likely to go unnoticed. The last thing he needed was for anyone to know he'd been there.
The metal fence post seemed like the most logical point of attack. He pulled a pair of wire cutters out of his backpack, then began removing the wire loops that held the lower edge of the fence to the post.
The task turned out to be harder than he expected. To mask the sound, he had to coordinate his cuts with the noise of cars passing on the nearby street. And the snow wasn't helping, either. He had to carefully move enough away from the bottom of the fence so he had a clear path. It took him five minutes to get through the fence and onto the other side.
The field was lit by hints of light filtering between buildings and through the trees from Schandauer Strasse beyond. It wasn't that large of a space, only two hundred feet from right to left, and another hundred or so feet to the buildings on the other side. The ground itself was covered with a thick layer of new snow. Off to one side lay a pile of large metal pipes, undoubtedly left over from when the plant was still operating.
Quinn focused his attention on the back of the building, looking for movement or any sign the place was being guarded. After a moment, he spotted something. It had been subtle, a simple adjustment of position. A muscle cramp maybe, or an itch that needed to be scratched. Whatever had caused it, a shadow had moved, unknowingly exposing a sentry near the left corner of the plant.
Keeping low, Quinn moved to his right, toward the stack of unused pipes. The pile was over five feet high, providing him the perfect cover as he turned and headed up the field. His biggest concern was the snow itself. The cold air had begun to freeze the top layer, creating a natural alarm system. Each step he took had to be carefully executed so that the crunch made by his foot as it broke the surface was minimal.
After working his way around the end of the pile, Quinn made his way south until he was only twenty feet from the basement window he'd escaped through the night before. He crept over to it, pausing to make sure he hadn't been spotted. When he was confident he was still in the clear, he turned his attention to the window.
Faint light spilled through it. Quinn cautiously peered inside. A single work lamp glowed weakly in the corner opposite the window. Quinn quickly scanned the rest of the room, looking for any signs of movement. All seemed to be quiet, but to his left, the refrigerating unit created a blind spot someone could have been standing in.
The window was hinged at the top and swung outward. Quinn grabbed the bottom of the frame and pulled the window toward him just a little, testing to see if it was still unlocked. It was.
He removed his gun and made sure the suppressor was properly connected. Slowly, he swung the window open, then waited to see if there was any reaction from inside. Still nothing. With his gun pointed toward the blind spot, he slipped partially through the open window, headfirst, for a better look.
Though there was still a small portion of the room he couldn't see, it appeared as if no one else were there. Not wasting any time, he pulled himself out, turned, and dropped feetfirst through the opening, shutting the window behind him.
Only the hum of the refrigerating unit greeted him.
A more detailed survey of the room revealed there were some changes since the previous evening. Several hard plastic travel cases now sat on the worktables. He walked over to see what they contained, but they were all empty. Perhaps the contents had been moved to the large refrigerator, he thought.
Quinn stepped over to the unit and was surprised to find the simple safety pin had been replaced by a heavy-duty padlock. He considered picking it, but decided against it. He already had a lot to do, and he couldn't spare the time.
Quinn turned and walked to the door that led into the second basement room. Pausing, he listened.
Silence. He took a deep breath, then opened the door.
This room didn't look the same as the night before, either. The worktables were now covered with tools and boxes and equipment. Quinn crossed the room, noting everything, but making no guesses as to the purpose of it all. He paused by one of the metal cabinets near the door and opened it. The cabinet was full of medical supplies: bandages, tape, scissors, medicine. In a second, larger cabinet hung several heavy-duty biohazard suits. They were white, and made from some sort of nonporous material. On the floor of the cabinet were several identical boxes. Quinn picked one up and opened it. Inside was a full-face mask wrapped in a plastic bag. They looked as if they'd fit snuggly into the facial opening on the biohazard suits.
Quinn opened a third cabinet. No biohazard suits in this one. Instead there were air tanks mounted in backpack-like harnesses. Quinn checked the gauge on each. While most were empty, two of the tanks were nearly full.
He removed his backpack and set it on a worktable. From inside, he extracted one of the six remaining cameras. There were several different frequencies on which the cameras could broadcast. The choice of frequency was made via a tiny dial located at the back of the camera. He turned it, choosing a different frequency from the one he'd used before. It would allow him to see what was going on, without tipping off Borko and his team. The only limitation was the distance from which he could monitor the cameras. Without another booster, he would have to stay within a mile to see anything. Less than that if he wanted to make sure the picture was clear.
Quinn mounted cameras in both rooms of the basement. When he was done, he picked up his backpack and headed toward the staircase that led up into the base of the sphere.
Just before the door, he stopped himself. After a moment's hesitation, he returned to the cabinets. He put down his bag, opened up the larger cabinet, and donned one of the biohazard suits. He then picked out a face mask and grabbed one of the full tanks from the second cabinet.
The outfit would serve two purposes. The first would be to protect him from anything deadly that might be floating around. The second to act as a disguise in case he was spotted.
Quinn removed the four remaining cameras from his backpack and transferred them to the plastic bag the mask had been in. He was about to place his gun in with them when he realized that it would be useless. While the bio-suit's gloves were flexible, they were just thick enough so that none of his fingers would be able to slip over the trigger. Reluctantly, he stuffed the gun back into his backpack, and stowed the bag in the cabinet.
Quinn clung to the scaffolding just below the platform in the center of the sphere, the same spot he'd hung from the night before while Borko's men searched for him on the platform above. He attached one of the remaining cameras to the pipes, aiming it downward so he would be able to observe anyone going into or out of the air lock on the floor of the sphere.
As he was checking to be sure the camera was securely in place, he heard voices above him. It sounded like two men had just exited the containment room and were now on the platform heading to the outside air lock. Unfortunately, he wasn't close enough to make out what they were saying. He contented himself with waiting silently until they were gone.
Once all was clear, Quinn worked his way across the scaffolding to the edge of the platform, then pulled himself up and onto it. His first stop was the exit leading to the air lock. He paused, listening at the door to be certain no one was inside. More silence.
Quinn pulled out another camera and placed it above the door. He adjusted it so that it pointed across the platform toward the bio-containment room. As he had hoped, the black casing of the camera blended in well with the black covering of the sphere. Someone would have to really be looking for it to notice it. Satisfied, he then adhered the tiny strip of adhesive with the embedded microphone just above the door entrance.
He walked quietly back across the platform, stopping in front of the entrance to the containment room. Stretching as high as he could, he was just able to put a camera on top of the room, aiming back at the air-lock entrance. Now he had all the doors covered.
It was time to turn his attention to the interior of the containment room. He studied the entrance. If he'd guessed correctly, beyond it would be another double-door air-lock system.
Still, he hesitated. If they'd gone operational in the last twenty-four hours, there was no telling what might be stored on the other side of the air lock.
He gave himself a mental nudge, counted to three, then pulled the door open. There was no rush of air this time. The two men who had just passed through had equalized the pressure in the air lock to that of the interior of the sphere.
Quinn peered inside.
He was right, a small chamber, big enough for two people at most, then another door with a bright red light set into the jamb at eye level at the other end. Quinn entered, then pulled the door shut. Above him, a light came on, a single fixture recessed into the ceiling.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a barely audible click, the red light next to the interior door switched to green, while the light on the door he'd just passed through turned red.
Quinn took a deep breath, then opened the interior door. As he expected, air moved with him as he stepped over the threshold.
The center room was dark. He tried shutting the door, thinking it might also have an automated light system, but nothing came on. He opened the door again, allowing the light from the chamber to spill into the room until he located a switch just to the left of the door. He flipped it on, then let the door swing closed.
The room was cramped but deserted. Along the wall to his left were a series of chest-high mini-refrigerators. Stainless steel and brand-new. Quinn opened the nearest refrigerator. It was running, but empty.
Shutting the door, he continued his inspection of the room. Along the wall opposite the refrigerators was a long stainless-steel table. Everything looked newly assembled, like a showroom. All that was needed were whatever supplies and instruments were necessary to make the room operational.
In the center was another table. On it were two large transparent cases, made of either plastic or glass, Quinn wasn't sure which. Inset on the front face of each box were two holes that allowed access to a set of rubberized gloves attached to the inside of the box. The gloves would let someone standing in front of the box work on items inside without actually touching them. Quinn had seen a setup like this before. It had been on the Discovery Channel, a documentary about the Centers for Disease Control. They were safety cabinets, designed specifically for the manipulation of dangerous microorganisms. Older models, Quinn seemed to remember. But still highly effective.
'Shit,' he said.
Back in the basement, Quinn removed the biosuit and stored it in its cabinet. He retrieved his backpack, pulled out his gun, and tucked it in his waistband. He then donned the pack and exited the basement using the same window he'd entered through.
'Halt.'
Quinn whipped around, his gun quickly moving back into his hand. The voice had come from behind him to the right and very near. Quinn saw the shadow of a man. Without hesitating he pulled his trigger.
There was the spit of a bullet passing through the suppressor, followed almost immediately by a thump as the sentry's body hit the ground. Quinn hurried toward the guard, his gun held in front of him. But it was unnecessary. The man was dead.
From around the side of the building came the sound of running footsteps. Quinn searched the sentry's body quickly for the dead man's gun. He found a Glock with its own suppressor in the man's right hand. Quinn grabbed the gun, then watched the side of the building intently.
Seconds later another man came around the corner. Quinn fired the Glock so that the bullet would come close to the new man but not hit him.
The man retreated quickly back around the corner, then called out, 'Rolf, it's me!'
Quinn let off another shot, and the man returned fire. That was what Quinn was waiting for. He let off one more shot, then dropped the Glock near the dead man's hand. He sprinted back along the wall until he was a safe distance away, hidden in the shadows.
The second guard fired his gun two more times, then waited. When there was no return fire, the guard called out again. 'Rolf?'
A second voice joined the first. 'What is it?'
'Rolf just shot at me.'
'Are you sure?' the second voice asked.
Quinn didn't wait to hear the rest. Soon enough they would discover that Rolf was dead, and if Quinn was right, they'd assume that Rolf was the one who had shot first. It was a trick Durrie had taught Quinn, but this was the first time he'd ever used it.
The activity surrounding the dead guard created a large, temporary hole in the building's security. Quinn saw no one else as he made his escape.
Chapter 25
Having little choice, Quinn knew he'd have to return to Sophie's for one more night. On the way, he stopped once more in Ku'damm.