4043029587
A phone number. Kate sat up in the bed.
“What is that?” her roommate asked.
Kate was so lost in thought she almost didn’t hear her. “Um… a… crossword puzzle.”
Her roommate set her book down and rolled over, suddenly interested. “Can I have it when you’re done?”
Kate shrugged. “Sorry, I wrote on it.”
Her roommate scowled, got up from the bed, and padded on heavy feet to the bathroom without another word. The lock clicked.
Kate fished the satellite phone out of the pack and dialed the number.
The sat phone beeped once, then clicked, and a voice began immediately, in a manner that told Kate that it was a recording. The voice was female; an American.
“Continuity. Status follows. Recording time: 22:15 Atlanta Local, Plague Day seventy-nine. Trial 498: result negative.”
Trial 498. What was the last trial she had done—where Marie Romero had died? The tube Martin had begged her for, the result he uploaded into the thermos-like cylinder? 493? There had been five trials since then, obviously at other sites.
“Network status: down. Dial zero for operator.” The speaker paused and then the voice changed. “Continuity. Unsere Situation ist…”
The message was repeating in German. Kate hit zero on the keypad. She heard rustling in the bathroom.
If her roommate saw the sat phone, she would report it immediately, and Kate would be interrogated. The soldiers had set forth the “honor code” of the survivors’ tower: all “members” had to turn in any weapons or electronics. They weren’t searched—part of the Immari brainwashing was apparently to pretend they were voluntary members, not prisoners, and forced searches would have shattered the charade. Still, the Immari had set out severe consequences for any signs of dissent. Anyone caught with anything suspicious, anything shiny and sharp or with an on-off switch, was immediately transferred to the other tower—with those who didn’t pledge.
Kate held the phone behind the pillow, where her roommate wouldn’t see it if she emerged from the bathroom. Kate lowered her head to the phone, halfway behind the pillow and listened.
A woman answered, speaking quickly. “Access code?”
It took Kate a second to process what she had said.
“I…”
“Access code.”
“I don’t know it,” Kate whispered as she eyed the door.
“Identify yourself,” the woman said, with a hint of concern or possibly suspicion.
“I… I work with Martin Grey.”
“Put him on the line.”
Kate thought for a moment. In the back of her mind, she wanted to hold back, to extract more information, but how? She was out of time—and options. What choice did she have but to tell her story and ask for help?
The bathroom door clicked.
Kate dropped the phone behind the pillow. Then remembered to hit the end button.
She looked up to see her roommate eyeing her.
Kate tried to focus on the notebook she held in her other hand. “What?” she said innocently.
“Were you talking to somebody?”
“Myself.” Kate held up the notebook. “Helps me with spelling. I’m a terrible speller.” And liar, she thought.
The suspicion lingered on her roommate’s face, but she returned to her bunk and resumed reading.
The next three hours passed in silence. Kate lay on her bunk, thinking, wondering how she could get Martin out. Her roommate read, occasionally laughing.
The breakfast call came and her roommate was up and at the door in seconds. She paused. “You coming?”
“Gonna let the line die down,” Kate said.
The instant the door closed, Kate dialed the number again.
“Access code?”
“It’s me again. I work with Martin Grey.”
“Put Dr. Grey—”
“I can’t. We’re separated. We’ve been captured by the Immari.”
“What’s your access code?”
“Look, I don’t know it. We need help. He kept me in the dark. I don’t know anything, but Martin is going to die in hours if we don’t get some help.”
“Identify yourself.”
Kate exhaled. “Kate Warner.”
The line was silent and Kate thought maybe it had been disconnected. She glanced at the phone readout. The seconds were still counting up. “Hello?” She waited. “Hello?”
“Hold the line.”
Two beeps came, then a man’s voice, young, crisp, focused. “Dr. Warner?”
“Yes.”
“This is Paul Brenner. I’ve been working with Martin for some time. I’ve actually been… I’ve seen all of your reports, Dr. Warner. Where are you now?”
“Marbella. The Orchid District. The Immari have taken it over, and the city.”
“We know.”
“We need help.”
“The operator said that you and Dr. Grey are separated.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have access to Dr. Grey’s research notes?”
Kate eyed the bag. The question made her nervous. “I… can get access to it. Why?”
“We believe he has some research we desperately need.”
“Well we desperately need to get the hell out of here, so let’s make a deal.”
“We can’t help—”
“Why not? What about NATO? Can’t you send some commandos in here to get us or something?”
“NATO no longer exists. Look, things are more complicated—”
“Tell me about it.”
“Orchid no longer works on the plague. People are dying—everywhere. The president died a few hours ago, and the vice president followed shortly thereafter.”
“Who’s running the government—”
“The speaker of the house assumed the presidency, but he was then assassinated. He was a suspected Immari sympathizer. The rumor is that the Joint Chiefs have stepped in, and that the chairman is styling himself the emergency president. He’s considering a plan to… Dr. Warner, we need that research.”
“Why is Orchid failing?”
“Another mutation. Listen, we think Martin was working on something, but we don’t know what it was. I need to speak with him.”
Kate flipped the notebook open and began reading the pages. She didn’t understand what she saw.
“Dr. Warner?”
“I’m here. Can you get us out?”
A long pause. “We can’t get anyone into the Orchid District, but if you can get out… I’ll see what I can do to arrange transport. But—our sources say the Immari plan is to evacuate southern Spain late tonight, the survivors at least.”