Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

Still, it couldn’t hurt to keep investigating. She kept close to the wall as she climbed, her gaze scanning the darkness, watching for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

She reached the landing and stopped. The floor was in darkness, except for a thin strand of light coming from a room midway down the hall. She licked dry lips and headed in that direction.

Once near the door, she stopped and reached back for the laser. Maybe it was an overreaction, but she still felt safer with the weight of the weapon in her hand. She reached out with her free hand and slowly pushed the door open.

The room held a large autocook and little else. Heat itched across her skin, a warning that someone, or something, was near. The sensation of danger grew, pricking across her skin like stinging bites, though she could see nothing that presented an obvious threat.

She edged into the room. The com-unit attached to the autocook hummed softly, and cool air washed across her fevered skin. The room was fairly big, and shadows lurked in the far corners. There was also vomit, if the acidic, almost sour scent in the air was anything to go by.

Gun raised, she eased past the autocook. Mary wasn’t hiding in the far corners. Nothing was, beyond two small desks and another com-unit—this one attached to security screens. Obviously, this room also doubled as a security center.

She clicked the safety on and clipped the weapon back onto her belt. There was nothing here that could possibly be a threat to anyone’s safety. Maybe she was misinterpreting the weird sensations flowing over her. She turned, and out the corner of her eye she caught a flash of light. Frowning, she bent and looked under the desk. Green numbers glowed back at her. A timer, counting down.

Fear leapt into her throat and squeezed tight. She edged closer and got down on her hands and knees. On the back wall, held off the floor by tape and almost totally hidden by the position of the desk, sat two small, dust-covered plastic cylinders. White wires joined them, and these were connected to a small plastic timer.

Her heart seemed to shudder to a stop. She’d seen something like this once before. The bombs were touch sensitive and almost impossible to defuse once they’d been set. The one time she’d seen someone try, it had blown half a city block apart. Someone wanted to make very sure of their deaths.

Air stirred, brushing past her face. She glanced up. The door was swinging shut.

“No!”

She leapt up and ran for the door, but it closed too quickly. She grabbed the handle, twisting it. Locked. “Mary! Open up.”

There was no answer. Nor did the door open. She pounded the panel in frustration, but her fist sank deep. It wasn’t wood, but an imitation used to soundproof rooms. She felt the wall—it, too, was spongy. Great. Just great. Stepping back, she unclipped the laser and fired it at the lock. Nothing happened. She glanced down at the weapon and saw the red light flashing. Great, the damn thing needed to be recharged.

She swung around and stared past the autocook to the desk. The bomb had obviously been hidden there a while, which in turn suggested that Stephan didn’t have regular sweeps for this sort of thing. But why would he, when he had all the other security measures in place? And even if they did do sweeps, most didn’t detect this sort of bomb, as it had no metal parts. As far as she knew, they were still working on a detector for this type.

Had Mary placed it here? And if so, why set it off now? What had happened in the last hour that had made her flip the switch?

Not that the answers to those questions mattered now. She had to find a way to warn Gabriel and get everyone out of here. With the room soundproofed, the door locked and the damn laser out of action, her only real option was to try her com-unit. Maybe she could find his cell phone number and call him. If that failed, she could call State and alert them.

She dug the com-unit out of her bag and sat down, positioning the unit on the floor so she could keep an eye on the timer. A small light on top of the com-unit flashed—a warning that the solar batteries were low. Hoping like hell the power would last, she opened up the unit. Marvin glared at her.

“Satlink unavailable, Earthling.”

She glanced at the lightly glowing numbers. Five minutes and twenty-four seconds to live. She swallowed heavily. She’d have to use a land link and hope like hell the lines weren’t clogged.

She dove across to the com-unit attached to the autocook and disconnected the landline. Then she grabbed her com-unit and quickly connected it, waiting impatiently for Marvin to react.

“Landline available.”

“Find the cell phone number of Gabriel Stern, assistant director SIU.”

Marvin crossed his arms and tapped his foot. She glanced across to the timer. Four minutes, fifty-three seconds.

“No number available.”

She swore. “What about his home number?” Maybe he diverted his private calls to his cell phone.

Marvin stopped tapping again. “No number available.”

Her gaze went to the timer again. Four minutes, twenty-two seconds. Sweat began to bead her forehead. “Damn it, try calling the SIU switchboard.”

It seemed to take forever to get a response. In reality, it was precisely eighteen seconds.

“Special Investigations. How may I help you?”