The Genesis Plague (2010)

study the disease. They’ll see that—’
    ‘When scientists study the DNA of the virus, they’ll be unable to explain its origins. I promise you that. They will rule out the possibility of any scientist being able to engineer such a complex, exotic contagion. They’ll attribute the plague to a mutation bred in the backwaters of the Middle East. It’s been nearly a hundred years since Spanish Flu killed upwards of 50 million people - more casualties than all the soldiers and civilians in World War I. And as far as scientists are concerned, we’re long overdue for the next great pandemic. You saw how excited they were about swine flu. That was a joke compared to this. The scientific community will feel nothing but vindication.’
    ‘Why do this?’ Brooke challenged, abhorred by Stokes’s indifference. ‘What’s the point?’
    ‘The point? Come now, Ms Thompson,’ Stokes said. ‘I’ve fought these people for almost two decades. This is no ordinary enemy. They don’t wear uniforms. They don’t respect innocence. They hate civilization … and everything we stand for. Flying planes into buildings was only the beginning for them.’
    ‘Terrorism is a universal problem - not a Middle Eastern one,’ she pleaded.
    ‘Wars are fought one battle at a time, Ms Thompson. To spare the innocents, extreme measures are sometimes necessary. Your idealism is endearing, but fails to recognize the chilling reality we’re facing. We’ve reached the tipping point where only one side can inevitably survive. Call it Social Darwinism.’
    ‘You’re a real nut job, Stokes,’ Flaherty said. ‘I’m giving you one more chance to answer my question. What’s in the cave?’
    ‘I could tell you, but that would only ruin the surprise,’ Stokes replied wryly. ‘Besides, it’s too late for you or anyone else to do anything about it.’
    ‘I don’t have time to play games with you.’ Flaherty’s fuse had burned out. If there was something in the cave, Jason would need to be warned. He decided to cast diplomacy to the wind. He went for his gun. But Stokes anticipated the move and, to Flaherty’s surprise, managed to draw his own gun first. And to Flaherty’s horror, the pastor levelled the Glock at Brooke’s chest.
    ‘Don’t be upset, I’ve had lots more practice than you, Agent Flaherty,’ Stokes said. Another coughing fit struck, but the gun-slinger managed to keep his aim true. He covered his mouth with the crook of his arm and when he pulled it away, blood and bile covered his jacket sleeve. ‘Let’s not make this messy. I told you, I’m already a dead man. Don’t you see?’ He held out the gory sleeve. ‘I’ve got nothing to lose.’
    ‘You don’t look dead to me,’ Flaherty said.
    ‘Roselli managed to infect me with one of his lab experiments,’ Stokes said. ‘Some home-grown variety of anthrax, apparently. So if that’s the case, I won’t last another day. With that in mind, I’m determined to witness the results of all my hard work. And right about now, you’re making that very difficult for me. Give me your gun.’ He extended his free hand and motioned for it. ‘Be sensible and, unlike me, you’ll both live to see another day.’
    Flaherty knew that despite Stokes’s hopeless condition, the former Special Ops commando was fully capable of pulling the trigger at least once before going down - no matter how well executed Flaherty’s shot might be. With Stokes unconcerned about confessing his heinous acts, Flaherty had to gamble that he’d keep his word. After all, though at the moment it seemed an abomination, Stokes was a servant of the Lord. ‘Fine,’ he said, lowering the gun and passing it to Stokes. ‘You win.’
    Stokes pocketed Flaherty’s Beretta. ‘Now while I attend to business, you can make yourselves comfortable.’ Keeping the Glock on Brooke and his eyes on Flaherty, Stokes stepped backwards towards the door. When he’d crossed the threshold into his office, he lowered the gun and reached for the door handle. ‘Behave yourselves and I’ll have someone let you out after this is over.’
    Then Flaherty and Brooke watched helplessly as Stokes pulled the door closed.

61
IRAQ
    ‘You’re sure these coordinates are right?’ Meat asked, checking his handheld GPS unit again. ‘I mean, this thing’s pretty accurate.’
    Fist-sized stones that littered the unpaved road forced Jason to slow the pickup to a crawl. ‘Mack has yet to be wrong,’ he said.
    ‘But you