What was he going to do now? He needed Fordyce. Having seen Blaine and the captain enter, Fordyce would surely be on his way down as backup—wouldn’t he? Why wasn’t he here? Had they already had a run-in with him on their way in? Impossible. They had arrived calm, fresh, unsuspecting. Had someone detained Fordyce?

It didn’t matter. He needed help. It was time to call Glinn.

He took out his cell phone. Just then, he heard sounds in the hallway beyond: the heavy running of boots. He took a step back as the doors burst open, soldiers in tactical uniforms rushing in, weapons at the ready.

“Nobody move!” cried the soldier on point. “Drop your weapon!”

Gideon suddenly found himself completely outnumbered; six automatic weapons were pointed at him. Jesus, is this why Fordyce isn’t here? he wondered. They must have seen us on the monitors, sent in an interdiction squad. He froze, unmoving, hands extended, keeping the Python and the captain’s 9mm in sight.

A second later Dart stepped in. He looked around, taking in the room.

Gideon stared at him. “Dart? What’s this?”

“It’s all right,” Dart said quietly to Gideon. “We’ll take care of things from now on.”

“Where’s Fordyce?”

“Waiting by the chopper. He called me without telling you, explained everything. Said you wanted to go it alone. And I see you’ve managed quite well. But now we’re here to take over.”

Gideon stared at him.

“Don’t be concerned, I know all about it—Blaine, the proposal for the novel, the plan, the smallpox. It’s over now, you’re in the clear.”

So Fordyce had made the call after all. And Dart had listened—to the point of coming himself. Amazing. Gideon felt his whole body relax. The long nightmare was finally over.

Dart glanced around. “Who has the smallpox?” he asked.

“I do,” said Gideon.

“May I have it, please?”

Gideon hesitated—why, he was not entirely certain.

Dart held out his hand. “May I have it, please?”

“When you secure those two and get them the hell out of here,” Gideon said. “And then I think the smallpox needs to go straight back into its vault.”

A long silence. Then Dart smiled. “Trust me, it’s going right back where it belongs.”

Still, Gideon hesitated. “I’ll put it back myself.”

Dart’s face lost some of its friendliness. “Why the difficulty, Gideon?”

Gideon couldn’t find an answer. There was something about this that didn’t feel quite right; some vague feeling that Dart was being a little too friendly, that he’d come around to Gideon’s viewpoint a little too easily.

“No difficulty,” said Gideon. “I’d just feel better seeing it go back in the vault.”

“I think we might arrange that. But if we’re going in the lab, you’ll have to disarm. You know—the metal detector.”

Gideon took a step back. “The captain here went in with his 9mm, no problem. There wasn’t any metal detector.” He felt his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Was this bullshit? Were they lying to him?

Dart turned toward the soldiers. “Disarm this man now.”

The rifles came up again. Gideon stared. He made no move.

A lieutenant stepped forward, drew his sidearm, and placed it against the side of Gideon’s head. “You heard him. Count of five. One, two, three—”

Gideon handed over the Python, the 9mm, and the Peacemaker.

“Now the smallpox.”

Gideon looked from Dart to the men. The expression on their faces was more than unfriendly. They were looking at him as if he were the enemy. Could it be they still believed he was a terrorist? Impossible.

Nevertheless, something felt very wrong.

“Call the director of USAMRIID down here,” Gideon said. “He must be on the premises. I’ll give it to him.”

“You’ll give it to me,” said Dart.

Gideon looked from Dart to the soldiers. He was unarmed and really had no choice. “All right. Tell the lieutenant to back off. I’m not doing this with a gun pressed to my head.”

Dart made a motion and the lieutenant stepped back, keeping his pistol leveled.

Gideon slid his hand into his pocket, his fingers closing over the puck. He slipped it out.

“Easy now,” said Dart.

Gideon held it out. Dart stepped forward to take it, his hands closing over the puck.

“Kill him,” said Dart.

But Dart had spoken too soon. Gideon clamped his fingers around the puck and turned abruptly, checking Dart hard with his shoulder, while at the same time extending his hand with the puck over his head.

“Don’t shoot!” Blaine cried, from the floor. “Wait!”

Gideon stared at Blaine. There was a sudden silence. The lieutenant didn’t fire. None of them did. Dart seemed paralyzed.

“Drop your weapons,” Gideon said. He cocked his arm as if to throw the puck and Dart jumped back, the soldiers following his cue, alarmed.

“Don’t throw it, for God’s sake!” This came from Blaine, still lying on the ground. He rose awkwardly to his feet. “Dart, you really screwed up,” he said angrily. “This isn’t the way to deal with this situation.”

Dart was sweating, his face white. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing this mess. Cut this off.” He held out his wrists.

Dart obeyed, using a scalpel to cut off the surgical tubing.

Blaine rubbed his hands together, fixing Gideon with his deep blue eyes but speaking to the captain. “Gurulé, you can get up now, too. We don’t need to keep up this pretense any longer.”

Full comprehension dawned in Gideon’s mind as the captain rose to his feet, his dark eyes flashing with triumph. He was staggered by the realization: Dart and Blaine were co-conspirators.

Blaine turned to the soldiers. “Lieutenant, you men, damn you, lower your weapons!”

A hesitation, and then Dart said: “Do it.”

The lieutenant obeyed and his men followed.

“Give me my sidearm,” rumbled Blaine, holding his hand out to Dart.

Dart handed him back the Peacemaker. Blaine hefted it, opened the gate, spun the cylinder to make sure it was still loaded, and tucked it into his belt. The 9mm was restored to the captain.

While this was going on, Gideon remained standing with the smallpox still poised threateningly over his head, his arm tense. He spoke quietly. “I’ll smash this on the ground if you all don’t lay down your weapons. On the ground. Now.”

“Gideon, Gideon,” Blaine began, shaking his head, his voice quiet. “Will you please listen to what I’ve got to say?”

Gideon waited. His heart was hammering in his chest. If he starts talking about Alida…

“Do you know why we’re doing this?”

“Blackmail,” said Gideon. “I read your book proposal. You’re just in it for the goddamn money.”

“Ah, I see,” said Blaine chuckling. “You have no idea, no idea, how wrong you are. That was merely a trifle, a plot point for a book. None of us is after money. We couldn’t care less about that. We’ve got a much more important use for the smallpox. Something truly beneficial to our country. Would you like to hear it?”

Gideon remained tensed like a spring, his arm cocked. But something perverse inside him wanted to hear what Blaine had to say.

Blaine gestured at Dart. “You see, I’ve used Myron, here, to vet my book ideas from time to time. And it was he who told me that this idea, Operation Corpse, was too good for a book. It was something we could actually accomplish.”

Gideon said nothing.

“I’m telling you this because I’m pretty sure you’ll want to join us. After all, you’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. You will certainly understand. And…” He paused. “It seems you love my daughter.”

Gideon flushed again. “Don’t bring her into it.”

“Oh, but I will…I will.”

“Blaine, you’re wasting time!” said Dart.

“We’ve lots of time,” said Blaine calmly, turning back to Gideon with a smile. “What we don’t have time for is an accident. Frankly, Gideon, I don’t think you’re the kind of person who’d be able to smash that on the ground. And kill millions.” He raised an eyebrow inquisitorially.