jammed the heel of his palm under his opponent’s chin, whipping his head back violently. The last of the defenders in this doorway were littering the walkway, their battered forms providing grim testimony to the efficiency of Phoenix Force.
McCarter let the baton drop to the floor, swinging his P-90 back into his grasp.
Lifeless bodies were strewed around the room, only one man still sitting upright. His white shirt was a bloody mess, and while at first blush he would have resembled Bezoar, a mouth full of mangled and busted false teeth yawned from the gaping gash of his lips. Bezoar’s file read that he had perfect teeth and no dental work done to improve them.
This guy was a fake, and he was holding on to an unmistakable D-shaped object.
A dead man’s switch equipped with a trigger that its wielder held down. Upon death and the relaxation of his fingers, whatever charge it was connected to would detonate.
The bloody, cap-filled smile broadened with the sight of McCarter and James. “And so…Paris dies.”
A second later he was a corpse, head flopping forward, the dead man’s switch tumbling to the cold tile floor….
CHAPTER FIVE
David McCarter saw the dead man’s switch begin to fall from the lifeless hand of a man who claimed Paris was about to die. His reaction was immediate and swift. He dropped his gun and leaped across the room, fingers clenching around the loosening fist of the corpse, keeping the pressure on the switch before it could activate.
“Cal! Get Gary now!” McCarter shouted. “I can’t squeeze this geezer’s digits all night!”
Calvin James took in the scene with a glance, then pivoted on his heel. McCarter could see that his partner was trying to raise someone on the hands-free radio even as he rushed to get the others, but communications had been knocked out.
It was a no-sweater for McCarter. The team was well coordinated, and had gotten along without the use of their hands-free communications nets before. The members of Phoenix Force hadn’t been chosen because of their ability to get along aided by some of the best high-tech equipment and intelligence in the world. It was their ability to improvise when cut off from all other assets, relying on their vast wealth of skills and experience to minimize chances of failure and succeed where all else was lost.
Still, McCarter couldn’t sit on the dead man’s switch indefinitely. The gunfire and explosions had to have attracted the attention of the Paris police, and no matter what, they would not take kindly to the Briton holding on to the trigger of a device that could unleash damnation upon their city, friendly or not. Barbara Price had been able to bail the Stony Man warriors out of trouble with local law enforcement before, but some incidents would be just too much and focus far too much attention on what was supposed to be one of the most covert operations in the world.
McCarter recognized Manning’s tread as he raced up the stairs, and checked his mental clock.
“You must have broken position as soon as the radios went out,” McCarter mused as the big Canadian came through the door.
“Cal met me halfway. He said you were hanging on to a dead man’s switch,” Manning replied, ignoring his friend and commander’s comment.
McCarter shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always wanted to hold hands with a corpse.”
Manning looked at the device, then at the lifeless figure whom McCarter shared it with. “This could be one of two types of switches. One is that it transmits when it is released, in which case, our asses are safe, so long as they didn’t booby-trap the power supply. The other is that it is transmitting, and we’re on a countdown until the batteries fail, no matter how well we duct tape the trigger shut.”
McCarter looked at it. “Considering that there’s a jammer knocking out our radios, I’m not sure this is a live transmission that’ll stop once the lever’s depressed.”
Manning’s brow furrowed as he looked at it. “Perhaps it’s on a shielded frequency, or the jammer isn’t operating on that level.”
“T.J. should be working our scanner to see which frequencies are open,” McCarter said, referring to the radio communications bands. “Unless he’s too busy…”
“He’s on it,” Manning returned. “He can keep an ear out for the cops while checking the scanner. In fact, he’s determined that police bands are untouched by the jamming. We’d be on that wavelength, too, but…”
“Yeah, yeah,” McCarter said. “The geezer I’m all chummy with said that when this goes off, Paris dies.”
Manning leaned in closer to look at the crude electronic device. “David, you should know that I can perform multiple mental tasks simultaneously. Not to cast aspersions on…”
McCarter waited for Manning’s lecture to finish, but the trailed-off sentence set his nerves on edge.
“What is it?” McCarter asked.
“T.J. managed to hit a clear channel for us. He says that Cal and Rafe located the ‘bomb,’” Manning said.
“I don’t like that you made it sound as if ‘bomb’ were in quotes,” McCarter replied.
“Come on,” Manning said. He pulled out his combat knife and severed the dead man’s hand at the wrist, allowing them to take the trigger along with them to the roof.
“The roof?” McCarter asked. Manning reached over and reset the frequency on his hands-free radio.
“We’ve got three tanks up here,” Encizo said as the two men arrived at the top of the building. Their Cuban ally had just torn open an air-conditioning unit and McCarter could see the canisters within the remnants of the housing. “We’re lucky that no one put a bullet through one.”
“Nerve gas?” McCarter asked as he stepped closer to the bomb. The canisters had been united by a bit of electronics with spray nozzles that pointed up into the night sky.
“There’s not an agency or military in the world that doesn’t have biohazard markings on their nerve gas delivery systems,” James said. “Besides, these are traditional helium canisters, and as far as I can tell, they haven’t been reloaded. They’re fresh and unrecycled.”
McCarter looked at the device that connected the three tanks. “What kind of dispersal could three helium tanks give to a spore or other pathogen?”
“I’m seeing we can get close to thirty square miles, effectively infecting all of Paris,” Manning returned.
“Guys,” Hawkins interjected over the radio. “I’m monitoring the police bands, and we’re not gettin’ any attention. They’ve got calls about fireworks going off, not gunfire.”
McCarter and Manning looked at each other quizzically. “Staying away from this place under orders…like they know something bad is about to happen here,” McCarter added.
Manning nodded. “T.J….”
“I’m checking the scope for encrypted comms, and just linked up with the Farm,” Hawkins answered. “They’ve got satellites looking down on the city, and there are no aircraft heading our
