The Genesis Plague (2010)

in every direction.
    Meat pulled the cyclic to the left and the chopper banked. He spotted the Arabs charging north along the open roadway. ‘They’re on the run, heading north to the camp. Camel, you’re up. I’ll sweep in and you hit anything that moves with the mini gun.’
    ‘Roger,’ Camel said. He assumed a crouch position behind the six-barrel M134 Gatling gun pedestal-mounted outside the fuselage doorframe. He opened the ammunition container cover to check the supply. It was filled with 7.62 mm shells. He flipped on the mini gun’s master arm switch, then adjusted the gun scope’s night-vision display. Gripping the fire control handles, he tested the swivel mount’s action.
    ‘You ready, Camel?’ Meat called over the intercom.
    ‘Ready,’ he replied, steadying his thumbs over the trigger buttons.
    Meat manoeuvred the Blackhawk on a sharp trajectory, gliding low on approach, and hooking sharply along the road.
    Camel lined the runners in the scope’s crosshairs - all scrambling for cover. He opened fire at 3,000 rounds per minute, effortlessly cutting down the combatants and sending bodies tumbling off into the ravine. He even managed to strafe a trio attempting to climb over the foothill. In one sweep, he guessed that half of the fifteen surviving Arabs had been taken out.
    Meat pulled up and banked out over the plain again.
    ‘One more pass … then the marines are on their own,’ Jason said.
    The Blackhawk’s final sweep eliminated all but three Arabs, whose focus had turned from attack to retreat.
    ‘Shit, Camel,’ Meat said, impressed. ‘That was some nice shooting.’
    ‘He’s the goddamn Terminator!’ Jam said.
    As the chopper pulled away, Jason was fixated on the roadway, which in less than five minutes had been transformed into a living nightmare of carnage and fire. His nerves were buzzing with adrenaline, fingers trembling. Though he feared the emotional swirl of satisfaction, euphoria and indifference that this perfect devastation evoked, he allowed himself to embrace the primal urge awakened deep in his core - the lust for vengeance; the driving force that pushed otherwise rational men to commit unspeakable acts to exact justice. That’s for Matthew. Burn in Hell … all of you .
    But the vendetta was far from complete.
    ‘Now let’s get Al-Zahrani back,’ Jason said.

54
LAS VEGAS
    If there was an economic slowdown in Las Vegas, it certainly wasn’t evident at the bustling work site of Our Savior in Christ Cathedral, Flaherty thought. An armada of construction vehicles commandeered the sprawling parking lot - cement mixers, flatbeds piled with steel framing and massive cable reels, and HVAC vans. Throughout the lot, building materials were organized into sectors: rows upon rows of tinted-glass panels; mountains of honey-coloured marble floor tiles; hundreds of porcelain restroom fixtures sorted by colour. And stacked three-high were clusters of shipping containers bearing various import seals.
    Flaherty steered the rental car around dozens of pallets stacked with pale limestone blocks. The clear plastic wrappings were stamped: ‘AUTHENTIC JERUSALEM STONE, INC.’. A forklift had just removed a batch and was heading to the building’s south side where a huge glass-domed amphitheatre abutted the mountainside.
    Near the cathedral’s main entrance, he parked in a designated visitors’ lot.
    ‘You think it’s smart to just barge in there?’ Brooke said, peering out at the building. ‘Shouldn’t the police be here or something?’
    ‘This place has a lot of windows. The pastor might make a break for it the second he spots a police car.’
    ‘So how do you propose we handle this?’
    ‘I propose we get married,’ he said, deadly serious.
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘Just follow my lead and you’ll get the idea,’ he replied coolly.
    He turned off the car, pocketed the keys and opened his door. ‘Let me come around and get you.’
    Baffled, Brooke waited for him to circle to her door. He opened it and proffered a hand. ‘Come, darling. I think you’ll love this church. I hear the wedding ceremony is breathtaking.’
    Then she caught on to the ruse. ‘Ah, very clever. We’re posing as customers. I like it.’
    ‘Works in the movies,’ he said with a shrug.
    When Brooke clasped his hand, he noted her gold Irish Claddagh ring - two hands clasping a heart and surmounted by a crown. It could easily pass as an engagement ring … If she wore it differently.
    ‘First,