Page 154 (1/2)

How could they attack now? Tim said Margaret was infected … maybe she was just sick … the baby, making her act strange …

Clarence’s headset let out a short burst of static as someone switched frequencies.

“Otto, this is Klimas, over?”

Clarence reacted automatically. “Otto here, go ahead.”

“The s.h.i.+t is about to hit the fan. SITREP on the civvies?”

“Montoya is up in 1812 with Bogdana,” Clarence said. “I’m in the lobby with Feely and Mitch.e.l.l.”

“Good,” Klimas said. “Stay right there unless I tell you otherwise, or unless someone is shooting at you.”

His wife was upstairs, and an attack was coming.

“I have to go get Margaret. I’ll grab her and—”

“Negative, Agent Otto,” Klimas said. “Stay right where you are. You are responsible for protecting Feely and the package. I’ll have Bogdana bring Montoya down. Klimas, out.”

Clarence closed his eyes, tried to think things through. The future of the human race was right next to him, sitting in a swivel chair, still partially sedated. But his family was seventeen floors above. Was Tim crazy?

Or, if Tim was right …

Clarence’s headset came alive with Rangers and SEALs calling out targets, with the sound of weapons fire.

Then several voices at once, from both inside the lobby and over the comm link, calling the same word: incoming!

Clarence heard a m.u.f.fled crash of gla.s.s followed by the whoof of billowing fire that filled the lobby with a sudden and angry orange light.

GAME ON

Paulius Klimas rolled across the snowy pavement, putting out the flames that danced up his thighs. Molotov c.o.c.ktails rained down around him. The smell of burning gasoline filled the air. Mortars from inside the perimeter thoooped, weapons fired, men shouted out targets or screamed in agony.

Paulius slid up against the door of a burned-out Lincoln Navigator. He peeked around the front b.u.mper, east down Chicago Avenue. Dozens of small flames arced through the air toward his position, spinning orange stars that would land and burst, spreading long ovals of flame. Off in the distance, he saw muzzle flashes coming from behind overturned cars on Chicago Avenue and on Rush Street, as well as from skysc.r.a.per windows in all directions.

Bullets plinked off the Navigator, punched through what gla.s.s still remained in the ruined vehicle. Molotovs. .h.i.t every few seconds. Most of the improvised missiles fell short, but more than a few sailed over the perimeter to set the pavement afire.

He thumbed to his SEAL-only frequency and pressed the “talk” b.u.t.ton.

“This is Klimas. Overwatch, locate and return fire, concentrate on enemy positions in the buildings on the corners of Chicago and Rush, Chicago and Michigan. Prioritize all high-elevation enemy snipers, repeat, all high-elevation enemy snipers. SITREP by squads, go.”

The squads reported back: heavy concentrations of small-arms fire and Molotovs coming in from all directions. Most of the enemy troops had to be armed civilians. His marksmen would thin them out quickly, but just how big a force did they face?

Paulius switched to the Rangers’ channel and listened in. Captain Dundee was already calling in air support. The Apaches would be here in minutes.

The hotel was so large, Paulius still had men going from floor to floor, securing the place one room at a time. He switched back to the SEAL channel.