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Paulius Klimas had never seen a cell phone quite like the one that had been handed to him by the captain of the Coronado. It was a bit smaller than the satellite phones he’d carried into at least a dozen missions, and ridiculously heavy for its size.

The captain had asked Paulius to his stateroom, provided the phone, then left, giving Paulius privacy. That alone indicated some important s.h.i.+t was about to go down. The first call to the new phone had come from none other than Admiral Porter himself. That call had lasted all of three minutes, long enough for Porter to stress that the safety and future of the United States was on the line, and that Paulius was to facilitate in any way possible the next person who would call.

Maybe that finally meant some action.

When the battle had occurred four days earlier, he and his men had been ordered to do nothing. The Coronado hadn’t launched boats to rescue the drowning, hadn’t welcomed the wounded aboard. Zero contact.

As other s.h.i.+ps sank, as flaming oil spread across the water, Paulius had watched sailors fighting for life and he had done nothing to help them. He and his men from SEAL Team Two could have put their three Zodiacs into the lake, could have grabbed dozens of sailors from the water, could have saved many lives — he had never felt so ashamed of following an order.

But he had obeyed. He had made sure his men obeyed.

Paulius understood the order, even if he didn’t agree with it; so far, no one on the Coronado — SEAL Team Two included — had tested positive for the infection. He and his men were a contingency plan, to be used in a worst-case scenario.

And now, it seemed, that scenario had arrived.

The Pinckney, the Brashear and now even the damaged Truxtun had reported positive tests, incidents of violence and murder, even the execution of military personnel. Porter’s call meant it was almost time to act.

The phone buzzed. Paulius answered.

“This is Commander Klimas.”

“h.e.l.lo, Commander,” said a baritone voice on the other end. “This is Agent Clarence Otto.”

Paulius nodded. Yes, finally, there would be a role to play.

“Agent Otto, I have been instructed to follow your orders.”

“Good,” Otto said. “What have you been told so far?”

“That you control the package, and that the package is our highest priority.”

The package, in this case, was a person — one Dr. Margaret Montoya, and whatever she might be carrying. Tim Feely and Agent Otto were to be rescued as well, if possible, but Dr. Montoya had become the focus of Klimas and his team.

“Excellent,” Otto said. “I need you to prep for an extraction.”

“Understood. When?”

“Soon. We’re hopefully finis.h.i.+ng up some research here, but we may have to bug out at any moment.”

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