Biowar Read Online Free PDF Page B

people started to rise, reaching for his walkie-talkie.
    “Call your boss,” said Lia loudly. “Call him. This is the second time. The second time.”
    “The second time?” said the other woman.
    “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” said the professor.
    “Get going,” warned Rockman.
    “I’ll bet it was a misunderstanding. I’m going to report this,” said Lia, whisking around into the building.
    “Left up the stairs. Move,” said Rockman.
    Lia took the stairs two at a time. At the top, she turned into the first room she saw—which just happened to be a rest room.
    Men’s, but times were desperate.
    Lia went quickly to the far stall, her heels making a rather distinctive sound on the tiled floor. A pair of sneakers two stalls down jumped up and quickly retreated.
    “Not good,” said Rockman.
    “I’m inside, right?”
    “This isn’t a shopping mall,” said Telach.
    “Yup.” Lia peeled off the badge, realizing it would now be a liability. “Plan B. Where do I go?”
    “End of the hall, make a left, then a quick right. The lab is down the stairs.”
    “Talk to you there,” she said.
    A potbellied virologist stopped dead in the doorway as Lia emerged from the stall. She smiled at him, then washed her hands.
    “The women’s room is down the hall.”
    Lia pointed at him. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said, drying her hands.
    While she followed Rockman’s directions to the lab, the Art Room launched an attack on the facility’s security communications network, disguising it as a circuit blowout. This delayed the alert about the encounter with what the slowly recovering guards termed a psychotic visitor.
    “How are you going to get into the lab area without your tag?” Telach asked as Lia headed down the stairs.
    “I’ll just wait for someone to come by and slip in with them,” said Lia.
    “We chose this lab because there’s hardly anyone who uses it,” said Telach.
    “So open the door for me,” said Lia.
    “We can’t without the tag.”
    “Right,” snapped Lia, but when she reached the door it did indeed fail to open. A metal shield prevented anyone from slipping a nail file into the latch and prying it open—which would have been Lia’s next choice. Before she could decide on Plan C, she spotted someone coming down the hallway toward the door.
    “Rarely used, huh?” she muttered to the runner as she reversed course and started back up toward the stairs. She turned into the stairway as the person cleared the door, then waited on the steps. As the man—a twenty-five-year-old doctoral candidate who specialized in the study of RNA replication—turned into the stairwell, Lia skipped down and collided with him.
    “Oh, Jesus,” she said, falling against him and then away, her blouse somehow popping open in the process.
    “Sorry,” said the Ph.D. candidate.
    Flustered, Lia helped him up, apologized, slipped down herself, scooped up a folder that had fallen, apologized, laughed at herself, and continued quickly to the automatic door—which opened thanks to the man’s ID card, which Lia had palmed.
    “Excuse me, excuse me,” said the man, trotting toward her.
    Lia turned at the door. “Oh my God,” she said, staring at the folders in her hands.
    She was still unbuttoned. Her bra, not nearly as sensible as her panties, provided a more than ample diversion as she dropped the folder on the ground. His badge tumbled with it; she apologized again, retreating down the lab hallway.
    “Smooth,” said Rockman in her ear.
    “Never underestimate the power of Intimate Moments,” she said.
    “Or male lust,” said Telach.
    “You even got me hot,” said Rockman.
    “Before you melt down, tell me which of these doors I want,” she said.
    “Any one on the left,” he told her. “Um, better get moving—the guys you kneed in the courtyard are at the supervisor’s desk.”
    “I didn’t knee anyone,” said Lia, opening the door into a long, narrow room dominated by