Douglas_Preston_

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Dive in goddamnsewage ? a very deep voice said.
The Commander turned. You heard the man. He tossed a wet suit toward Snow. Now get your
lovely little behind below and suit up. We ve got to be clear and at the extraction point by six minutes to
midnight.
= 53 =
Margosat on the cold tile floor of the armory, inwardly fum-ing. She wasn t sure who she was more
angry at: D Agosta,for roping her into this mess to begin with; Pendergast, for refusing to take her along;
or herself, for being unable just to let the whole thing drop. But that was something she simply couldn t
do. It was clear to her now just how long a shadow the Museum murders the terrifying final struggle in
the Mu-seum basement had cast over her. It had robbed her of sleep, fractured her peace of mind.And
now this shit, on top of every-thing else ...
She knew Pendergast had been thinking of her safety, but she still could not contain the frustration of
being left behind.If it wasn t for me, they d still be in the dark, she thought.Imade the connection
between Mbwun and Whittlesey. I figured out what really happened. With a little more time, she
might have even tied up the nagging, perplexing loose ends that still remained: what the rest of
Kawakita s cryptic journal frag-ments meant, what he d been doing with the thyoxin, why he d been
synthesizing VitaminD at his final laboratory.
Actually, the thyoxin made sense. The journal entries im-plied that, near the end, Kawakita had had a
change of heart. Apparently, he d realized his latest strains of glaze no longer twisted the body, but
instead twisted the mind. Maybe he d even learned of the environmental dangers posed by saltwater
coming in contact with the plants. In any case, it seemed clear he d decided to undo what he d done, and
rid the reservoir ofLiliceae Mbwunensis. Perhaps the creatures themselves had learned of his intention.
That could explain his death: obvi-ously, the last thing they wanted was somebody meddling with their
supply. But that still didn t explain what the hell he d been doing with vitamin D. Could it have been
necessary for the genetic sequencing? No, that wasn t possible ...
Suddenly,Margo sat up, drawing in her breath sharply.He was planning to kill off the plants, I m sure
of it , she thought.And he knew that put him in terrible danger. So the vitaminDwasn t for glaze
production. It was for ...
Suddenly, she understood.
In an instant, she scrambled to her feet. There wasn t a moment to lose. Galvanized into action, she
began yanking open locker drawers, spilling the contents into the narrow cor-ridor, hastily grabbing at the
items she needed, stuffing them into her carryall: oxygen mask, night-vision goggles, boxes of 9-millimeter
hollow-point rounds for her semiautomatic pistol.
Breathing heavily, she ran to the door of the armory and looked out into the larger storage area.It s got
to be around here somewhere, she thought. She began running along the rows of wooden cabinets,
quickly scanning their Formica la-bels. Stopping abruptly, she opened one of the cabinets and took out
three empty one-liter bottles equipped with sports-style squeeze caps. Placing them on the floor along
with her carryall, she opened another cabinet and pulled out several gallon containers of distilled water.
Then she ran down the rows, searching once again, muttering under her breath. Finally, she stopped and
yanked open another cabinet door. It was filled with rows of jars containing pills and tablets. She
feverishly scanned the labels, found what she wanted, and raced back to her carryall.
Kneeling, she opened the jars and upended them, making a small mountain of white pills on the tiled
floor. What s the concentration, Greg? she found herself saying out loud.No way of knowing: I ll
have to guess high. Using the bottom of one of the jars, she smashed the pills to powder, then scooped
several handfuls into each of the liter bottles. She topped off the bottles with water, shook them
vigorously, checked the suspension: a little coarse, perhaps, but there was no time for anything better. It
would soon dissolve.
She stood up and grabbed her carryall, scattering the empty bottles noisily down the corridor.
Who s there? came a voice. Too late, she realized she d forgotten about the guard on duty outside.
Quickly, she stuffed the bottles into her carryall and slung it over her shoulder as she headed for the exit.
Sorry, she said. Daydreaming. She hoped she sounded sincere.
The guard frowned, putting his magazine aside. He began to stand up.
Which way did Agent Pendergast go again? she said hurriedly. He mentioned something about C
section.
Mentioning Pendergast sname had the desired effect; the guard sat back down in his chair. Take
Elevator Bank Four up two flights and make a left, he said. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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