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Smith circled almost the entire perimeter before he found a suitable entry point； where the fence met the river's edge。 Climbing over slippery rocks； he made his way around the fence； then sprinted across a section of the deserted parking lot to the nearest wall。 After pausing to get his bearings he scanned the perimeter。 He saw nothing； heard nothing except for the faint calls of night creatures near the water。 Yet his intuition warned him that he was not alone。 His call had sent a shiver along the web。 He just couldn't see the spider 。。。。 Yet。
Hugging the side of the building； Smith moved along the face of the wall； searching for an entry point。
Three stories above Smith； in the shadows of a broken window； Sergeant Patrick Drake watched Smith through night…vision binoculars。 He'd picked him up as soon as Smith had climbed around the fence； the logical entry point。 According to the contents of the dossier Drake had read； Smith was nothing if not logical。 It was an admirable quality in a soldier； but one that made him predictable。 And in this case； fatally vulnerable。
Drake had been flown to the plant by helicopter。 Later on； a car would be waiting for him when he finished his work。 Getting here so quickly had allowed him to familiarize himself with the plant's layout； choose the killing ground； and find a vantage point from which to observe Smith's entry。
There he was； at the door Drake had hoped he would find； testing it。。。 opening it。
Drake turned away from the window and crossed the barren room that had once housed pumping machinery。 His crepe…soled shoes moved soundlessly along the dusty concrete floor。
Slipping into the stairwell； he drew out his silenced Colt Woodsman。 The 。22 was an assassin's weapon； meant for close…range work。 Drake wanted to see Smith's face before he shot him。 Maybe the terror in his expression would help ease some of the pain Drake carried on account of the loss of his partner。
Or maybe I'll gut…shoot him first； so that he can feel what Travis went through。
Two floors down； Drake paused in a landing and carefully pulled back a door that opened on a second pump room。 The moonlight ing through the tall windows bathed the pitted concrete floor in what could have been a layer of ice。 Moving swiftly from pillar to pillar； Drake positioned himself so that he had a clear view of another door； still closed。 Given where Smith had entered； this was the only entry point into the room。 Like any good soldier； Smith would check every space he encountered； making sure that it was secure； that no one would surprise him when his back was turned。 But in this case； not even the logical precautions would save him。
Somewhere outside the pump room Drake heard a footfall。 Slipping off the safety on the Woodsman； he trained the barrel on the door and waited。
Smith stared at the door； its metal sheath streaked with old red paint stains。 Safe point Alpha。 Where Travis Nichols would have gone to report in。 Where the owner of the horribly mangled voice would be waiting。
He wouldn't have e alone； Smith thought。 He'd have brought backup。 But how many？
Smith shrugged the backpack off his shoulders。 Digging inside； he brought out a small； round object the size of an India rubber ball。 Then he drew out his SIG…Sauer and pushed open the door with the tip of his hightop。
The blanket of moonlight destroyed his night vision； making him blink。 At the same time he took one step across the threshold。 Suddenly something very hard slammed into his chest。 The backpack fell from his grip as he staggered back。 A second blow sent him spinning against the wall。
Smith felt as though his chest were on fire。 Gasping； he tried to remain standing but his knees buckled。 As he slid down the wall； he saw a shadow emerge from behind a pillar。
His thumb flicked the pin on the stun grenade in his hand。 With a weak toss he threw it across the room and quickly covered his eyes a and ears。
Drake advanced on Smith with the confidence of a hunter who knows he's scored a direct hit… two； in fact。 Both the bullets had hit Smith center mass。 If the colonel wasn't already dead； he soon would be。
Drake was relishing that thought when he saw a black sphere arc toward him。 His instincts and reactions were superb； but he couldn't cover his eyes in time。 The stun grenade exploded like a supernova； blinding him。 The shock wave hammered him to the ground。
Drake was young and very fit。 During live fire training and on actual missions he had taken his share of explosions。 As soon as he hit the ground he covered his head in case of shrapnel。 He did not panic when； opening his eyes； he saw nothing but white。 The flash would wear off in a few seconds。 He still had his gun in his hand。 He knew that he'd hit Smith and that he was down。 All he had to do was wait for his sight to return。
Then Drake heard the distant wail of sirens。 Cursing； he staggered to his feet。 Although the room was still a blur he made it to the windows。 His vision cleared enough for him to make out two red dots flickering between the trees bordering the access road。
〃Goddamnit！〃 he roared as he heard the sirens。 Smith had brought his own backup！ Who were they？ How many？
His vision almost normal； Drake rushed to where he'd seen Smith fall。
But he wasn't there！
The sirens were getting louder。 Cursing； Drake snatched up the backpack and headed into the stairwell。 He made it outside just in time to see two sedans pull up in front of the gates。
Let 'em e； he thought。 All they're going to find is a body！
Staring at the loose wires dangling from the panel； Megan Olson struggled to fend off her despair。 She had lost track of all the binations she had tried； running different wires to different terminals。 So far； nothing had worked。 The shuttle's air…lock door remained firmly sealed。
Her only consolation was that she thought she'd fixed her mike。 But she didn't want to test it just yet。
Calm down； she told herself。 There's a way out of here。 All you have to do is find it。
It was maddening that less than a foot away； on the other side of the door； was the emergency…release lever。 All Dylan Reed had had to do was pull it。
Instead he's going to let you die。 Like all the others。。。
No matter how hard she tried； Megan could not distance herself from the horror of Reed's actions。 For the last several hours she had listened in on his terse； intermittent conversations with Harry Landon at mission control。 In one of them； he had given a graphic description of the bodies。
But how did he get a sample？
From Treloar！ Klein had told her about the theft from Bioaparat and how Treloar had helped smuggle the Russian smallpox sample into the country。 But how had Treloar gotten the virus to the launch site？ He was killed soon after landing in Washington。
That's when she remembered the morning of the liftoff； being unable to sleep； taking a walk in the darkness； seeing the launch pad in the distance； seeing Reed。。。 Then the anonymous visitor； approaching him； handing him something； and leaving。 Could it have been a last…minute transfer？ It had to be。
If what Reed had received was in fact smallpox； Megan thought； then it