Page 26 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal (Dynamis Security #4)
Sabrina exchanged a glance with Atticus, reading the same thought in his eyes that had occurred to her. They needed to remove the bioweapon from the explosive device—separate the weapon from the delivery system. It was their best chance of containing the threat.
“I need micro-forceps and a steady hand,” she said, already reaching for her medical kit. “The vial is secured within the explosive device, but there might be just enough clearance to extract it without triggering detonation.”
“That’s too risky,” Atticus objected. “One wrong move and?—”
“And we’re in the same position we’re in now,” she interrupted. “Look, I’ve got the steadiest hands on this aircraft. I’ve performed microsurgery under combat conditions. If anyone can extract that vial safely, it’s me.”
The seconds ticked by as Atticus weighed the options, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a sharp nod, decision made. “Do it. But everyone else evacuates to safe distance.”
“I’m staying,” Eden said immediately. “You’ll need someone to handle the explosives while Doc focuses on the vial.”
“Both of you, go,” Atticus ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “Get Jacobs and the other prisoners clear of the area. Warlock, coordinate with the containment team on the ground. Doc and I will handle this.”
For a moment, it seemed Eden might argue further, but Nate placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent communication passing between them. With a reluctant nod, she moved to secure the prisoners for evacuation.
“Cypher,” Atticus continued, “I need constant updates on that signal jamming progress. And get me the location of Mitchell’s demonstration site. If this goes south, I want to know exactly where he planned to release this thing.”
“Working on both,” Cal confirmed. “But the encryption on these broadcasts is military grade. It’s going to take time.”
“Time we don’t have,” Atticus muttered, glancing at the countdown: 8:49…8:48…8:47…
The aircraft emptied quickly, leaving Sabrina and Atticus alone with the containment unit.
She worked methodically, using the micro-forceps with the steadiness that had earned her commendations during her Navy service.
The vial was held in place by a custom-designed cradle, surrounded by enough explosive material to ensure complete dispersal upon detonation.
“If I can disconnect these two wires,” she murmured, more to herself than to Atticus, “I might be able to create enough space to slide the vial out without disturbing the pressure sensors.”
“And if the pressure sensors trigger anyway?” he asked, watching her work with focused intensity.
“Then we have approximately three seconds to say our goodbyes,” she replied, not looking up from her task. “Any particular last words you’ve been saving?”
“A few,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly despite the gravity of their situation. “But I’d prefer to save them for a less terminal occasion.”
“Then let’s make sure we get that occasion,” she said, carefully manipulating the first wire free from its connection point. It detached with a faint click that made them both hold their breath, but the timer continued its countdown uninterrupted: 7:12…7:11…7:10…
“One down, one to go,” she murmured, shifting her position slightly to access the second wire.
This one was more deeply embedded in the mechanism, requiring her to maneuver the forceps at an awkward angle.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, but her hands remained steady, testament to years of training and an innate gift for delicate work under pressure.
“That’s it,” she breathed as the second wire came free. “Now for the extraction.”
With painstaking care, she guided the forceps around the vial, securing a grip on the glass container without applying enough pressure to crack it. The clearance was minimal, requiring her to ease the vial upward by millimeters, avoiding contact with the surrounding explosives.
“Cypher,” Atticus spoke softly, as if afraid his voice might disturb Sabrina’s concentration. “Status on the jamming?”
“Almost there,” Cal replied. “I’ve isolated the frequency, but the encryption is giving me trouble. Three more minutes, maybe four.”
The vial slid upward, fraction by agonizing fraction, until it cleared the top of the explosive cradle. Sabrina exhaled slowly, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“Got it,” she said, carefully transferring the vial to a secure container from her medical pack. “Bioweapon secured.”
“Good work,” Atticus said, his relief evident despite his controlled tone. “Now let’s get off this aircraft and let the explosive disposal team handle the rest.”
The timer continued its countdown: 5:23…5:22…5:21…
They moved toward the exit, Sabrina cradling the secured bioweapon against her chest like the lethal treasure it was. The containment team had established a perimeter around the aircraft, emergency vehicles positioned at strategic intervals around the airfield.
Just as they reached the boarding stairs, Cal’s voice came through the comms, tense with alarm.
“Reaper, we’ve got a problem. Mitchell’s security team is converging on your position.
We’re picking up increased encrypted communications between Mitchell’s DC office and the airfield. He knows you’re there.”
“The jamming?” Atticus demanded, his hand automatically going to Sabrina’s back, urging her down the stairs faster.
“Ninety seconds from completion,” Cal replied. “But we’ve intercepted a remote detonation command in the encrypted stream. He’s going to blow it now!”
“Everyone clear the area!” Atticus ordered through the comms. “Remote detonation imminent. Fall back to secondary containment positions. Viper, Frost—get your teams to minimum safe distance. Extraction teams, accelerate timeline for the rest of Alpha.”
Atticus grabbed Sabrina’s arm, pulling her into a sprint away from the aircraft. “We need at least two hundred yards of distance!”
They raced across the tarmac, the bioweapon container clutched tightly against Sabrina’s chest. Nate and Eden ran parallel to them, dragging Jacobs with them.
They’d barely made it behind the solid concrete wall of a maintenance hangar when the sky was torn apart by a blinding flash and a deafening concussion.
The Gulfstream disintegrated in a massive fireball, the explosion so powerful it shook the ground beneath their feet.
A mushroom cloud of flame and black smoke rose into the night sky as burning debris rained down across the airfield.
The heat wave rolled over the hangar wall, hot enough to singe hair and eyebrows even from their protected position.
“Down!” Atticus shouted, pulling Sabrina to the ground as a secondary explosion sent a piece of the aircraft’s wing cartwheeling through the air over their heads, crashing into a fuel truck fifty yards beyond them.
For several heartbeats, they lay huddled against the hangar wall, ears ringing from the explosion, the acrid smell of jet fuel and burning metal filling their nostrils. Atticus had thrown himself partially over Sabrina, shielding her from falling debris, his body tense and alert for further danger.
For several heartbeats, they lay still, ears ringing from the explosion, the weight of Atticus’s body both protective and intimate against hers. Then he was moving, rolling off her to assess the situation while maintaining physical contact, his hand on her shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled through the lingering effects of the blast.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, though her entire body felt bruised from the impact. She immediately checked the secure container, relief flooding through her when she confirmed it remained intact. “The bioweapon is contained.”
Atticus helped her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed slightly.
The airfield had transformed into a scene from hell—flames leaping skyward from the remnants of the aircraft, black smoke billowing into the night.
Emergency crews were already moving in with fire suppression equipment, their voices carrying over the chaos.
“Mitchell,” Atticus said, his expression darkening as he scanned the perimeter. “He knew we’d intercepted the bioweapon. He triggered the detonation remotely rather than risk us securing it.”
“But we did secure it,” Sabrina said, holding up the container. “He failed.”
A grim smile touched Atticus’s lips. “Not completely. He just destroyed millions of dollars’ worth of evidence. And he’s still out there, presumably with more of this weapon at the demonstration site.”
Nate and Eden were approaching through the smoke, tactical masks in place, weapons ready.
“That was too close,” Eden said, eyeing the burning wreckage. “You two okay?”
“We got the bioweapon out just in time,” Atticus confirmed. “How’s Jenkins?”
“Stable, en route to Dynamis medical,” Nate replied. “Santiago’s with him.”
“Cypher,” Atticus spoke into his comm once they’d confirmed everyone was accounted for, “tell me you got something from that detonation signal.”
“Better than that,” Cal replied, satisfaction evident in his voice despite the circumstances.
“The remote detonation was routed through Mitchell’s encrypted network, but the receiving station is at a privately owned property fifty miles northwest of Dallas.
That’s where they’re setting up the demonstration.
And guess what we found when we pulled the ownership records? ”
“A shell company linked to Mitchell,” Atticus guessed.
“Bingo. Ownership traces back through three shell corporations to a foundation chaired by Mitchell’s wife. It’s the demonstration site. Satellite imagery shows a compound with a central building and what appears to be an observation platform. Multiple vehicles arriving within the last hour.”
“The buyers,” Eden said grimly. “They must be proceeding with the demonstration.”
“Without the primary sample,” Sabrina pointed out, holding up the contained bioweapon.