When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [106]
“So, are you here to shoot us yourself?” I asked Stricker. “Are you the one?” As I spoke I moved a step or two away from Kit. Put a little distance between us.
“That wasn’t my plan when I came down here. Of course it could change at any moment. Don’t do that, Dr. O’Neill. Not a real good idea.”
I kept moving laterally. “What isn’t a good idea?”
“You never were a field agent,” Kit said. “Never got your hands dirty, Peter. Stayed behind a desk all these years. That’s why I wouldn’t have promoted you to the regional job.”
“All right! Stop right there.” Stricker finally raised his voice and shifted the gun until it was pointed at my chest. “I can do dirty work just fine, Tom. Watch me.”
Kit took a lightning-fast step in and threw a hell of a punch at Stricker’s jaw. It was a crushingly hard shot and the agent went down hard on one knee.
But he came bounding right back up. That surprised me. Stricker was stronger and a lot tougher than he looked.
Kit came back with a short, powerful uppercut. A haymaker, I guess you’d call it. He knocked the smug and satisfied look right off Stricker’s face. I almost cheered.
Then he crunched another quick, hard shot into Stricker’s stomach. Kit was tougher than he looked, too. A whole lot tougher, and Kit looked tough to begin with. I knew nothing about the Golden Gloves, and whatever time Kit had put into amateur boxing, but it was paying huge dividends now.
He fired another lightning-fast punch that landed right between Stricker’s eyes, smashing his nose at the bridge. The agent went down, and this time he didn’t get up. He was out cold on the floor.
Kit reached down and took the handgun. He wasn’t even out of breath. Clearly, he’d enjoyed the one-sided fistfight. Me too. “Let’s get out of here.”
Michael had been watching with rapt attention. “That was real good,” he said. “Wow. That was cool. You’re a good fighter.”
“Thanks, Michael. Now show us where Oz and Icarus and the twins are,” I told him.
The next step in human evolution grinned, just like any other four-year-old would. He even took my hand.
“I know where they are, Aunt Frannie. I’ll show you the way.”
Chapter 114
MICHAEL WAS MY HERO. He led the way for us. We hurried down a short corridor that ended at a foreboding-looking metallic-gray door. I prayed the other children hadn’t been hurt, or put to sleep.
“End of the road?” Kit muttered, as we came to the door. “Where to now, Michael?”
“We can go this way. It’s faster,” Michael said. “Don’t worry, I’m smart for my age.”
“You sure are. Here we go then,” said Kit. He shoved open the heavy-looking door, and we entered a large lab that took my breath away, shattered what was left of my senses.
Lab equipment was lying out everywhere. Graduated cylinders. Pasteur pipettes. Microcentrifuge tubes with a vortex mixer. Rockers—machines that shake test-tube racks because certain bacteria needs to grow while being shaken. There were incubators the size of washing machines. I had no idea what they were here for, but they were scary. An autoclave was built into the wall to sterilize whatever needed it.
Three young women were lying on hospital beds on the far side of the room! It was obvious that each of the women was pregnant, probably past eight months. Close to term.
A tall, well-built male nurse saw us enter and hurried our way. He looked concerned, maybe angry, maybe both. “Are you here for the inspection? The tour of our facilities? You know, you can’t be down here unescorted,” he said.
Kit never said a word. He just hit him with a right uppercut that came looping from around his knees. The big thug didn’t have a chance against Kit. He hit the floor with a heavy thud. His large head bounced off concrete, then rolled to one side.
Michael said, “We should get out of here. Please?”
Michael was right, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the pregnant women as we hurried through the room. They looked to be in their teens and early twenties. Good healthy specimens. What were they doing down here? What kind of babies were they carrying?
Silently, they watched