Phelps told Mitchell to take the lead and for Zavala to follow her. He brought up the rear, holding his machine pistol at the ready as if he were escorting the other two under guard.
They passed a few of Chang’s men, who gave them a glance and a nod but asked no questions. They avoided the control room, which was off-limits to the staff, and skirted the fermentation lab so as not to arouse curiosity among the scientists.
Despite the direness of the situation, Zavala couldn’t help but grin with appreciation when he ascended the spiral staircase to Kane’s office and saw the colorful schools of fish nosing around the clear Plexiglas dome that were the ceiling and walls.
“This is fantastic!” he said.
Mitchell smiled, and she said, “I agree. I would spend a lot of time here even if it weren’t a refuge from the guards. Please have a seat.”
Mitchell turned up the lights to blot out the fishy distraction and sat behind the desk. Zavala and Phelps settled in chairs. Their newborn coalition was still on a shaky foundation, and the initial moment of uncomfortable silence was broken finally by Phelps, who cleared his throat and asked Zavala, “Where’s your pal Austin?”
Zavala’s instinct to spar went back to his boxing days in college, and he gave Phelps a minimal answer.
“Kurt was on Pohnpei, last I knew.”
Phelps twitched his nose.
“Hope Kurt stays out of Chang’s sights,” he said. “He’s been gunning for your friend.”
“Don’t worry about it, Phelps. Kurt can take care of himself.” Then Zavala asked, “How much time do we have before your boss arrives?”
“He’s probably just about landing on that freighter he uses as a base,” Phelps said. “Ship looks like a rust bucket, but she’ll outrun most her size. There’s even a moon pool for the lab’s shuttle. He’ll use the shuttle to get down in the crater. I’m supposed to make sure everything’s okay with the airlock. That maniac will be here in under an hour. We won’t have a lot of wiggle room once he’s on board.”
“Where’s the staff when they’re not working in the lab?” Zavala asked.
“They’re confined to quarters,” Mitchell said. “They’re kept under pretty tight guard, thanks to Mr. Phelps here.”
“Just doing my job,” Phelps said.
“How do you undo your job?” Zavala asked.
“I’ll try my best, Joe, but it won’t be easy.”
“Don’t worry,” Zavala said, “there will be lots of opportunities here to redeem yourself. For a start, do you have any idea how we can get the staff away from the lab?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Phelps said. “We can use the minisubs under the transit hub. They’ll each take four people. We’ve got fifteen scientists down here plus the cargo-shuttle pilot.”
Zavala forgot his throbbing head in his eagerness to go on the offensive.
“You and I can go out the way we came in,” he said. “We’ve got to neutralize those guys on the Typhoon. How many will we have to deal with on the sub?”
“The Triad triplets like to do things in threes,” Phelps said. “Something to do with lucky numbers. They got three squads of three on the sub, which makes nine, minus the two that came down here with us. They’re all armed and meaner than rattle-snakes.”
“They’ve had it easy up until now,” said Zavala, “so they’ve lost their edge and won’t be expecting anything. They won’t have a chance.”
Phelps let out a deep chuckle.
“Like Chesty Puller said when they told him he was surrounded: ‘They won’t get away this time.’ ”
“That’s right,” Zavala said. His mind raced ahead. “Okay, we get the people on the minisubs and they leave the lab . . . Where do they go?”
“Through the big tunnel in the side of the crater,” Phelps said. “They’ve got enough power to get well beyond the reef, past Chang’s freighter, to where they can surface and send out a Mayday.”
“We’ve got to get to the staff and let them know what’s up,” Zavala said.
“I can do it,” Lois Mitchell said. “The guards are used to seeing me around the lab.”
Phelps glanced at his watch.