The Last Handful of Clover - Book 3: The Stone in the Stream

3.43 NVCK-9

He knew that the two sections of the glass cube were walled off from each other with a high security containment airlock, to which only the scientists themselves would have access, and only with a biometric code.

There would be two scientists in the lab. But he would need only one.

At the door to the glass cube was the last guard that he had to get past. The man recognized his superior officer at once, but still looked guarded and suspicious as he snapped to attention. The two soldiers traded salutes before the young man spoke.

"I'm sorry, sir. But I'm not allowed to let even you pass without an authorization from the General."

"Of course," Sutton said with his most disarming smile. "We appreciate you following protocol, son. I have the authorization right here." He fumbled with his briefcase in what was becoming a very practiced gesture.

And as he did, his beloved angels went to work.

Sutton himself cut the frozen man's throat this time, being careful not to get any blood on the cuffs of his starched uniform. In just seconds, the guard was dying on the ground, quickly bleeding out onto the rough stone floor, and Sutton was wiping the blade clean on the young man's chest.

Luckily, the guard was a fairly small man. Sutton hoisted him into his arms and held the man's dead eye in front of the biometric reader. The door slid open and granted him, and his friends, access to The Wheelbarrow.

As he expected, there were two scientists there, and happily, both were still hunched over their work, completely oblivious to the dead guard that now lay crumpled on the floor outside of the lab. As they looked up, they seemed surprised to see their visitor, but both of their faces remained calm and impassive. One of the two actually smiled, as if he had no reason at all to fear for his life. He was a big galoot of a man, with bad acne and slumped shoulders. But he looked pleasant enough, and was actually rising to his feet to offer Sutton his hand, when the long-haired angel slammed into him and drove the man to his knees.

The smaller scientist suddenly realized the danger they were in. That, or perhaps he had noticed the dead guard just outside the glass cube. He was lurching toward a big red button on the wall when the old cowboy intercepted him. He froze with his hand just inches away from the button, and then slowly let it fall.

Both of the scientists now turned and looked at Sutton as if they were waiting for their instructions.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Sutton said, pleasantly, setting his briefcase on a lab table. He knew he would no longer need it. "I hope you're all having a pleasant afternoon, here on this, the last day of the world."

He didn't wait for the men to reply, because of course he knew they couldn't. His dark angels would keep their consciousnesses alert enough in their bodies to listen and understand, but not enough to respond. So they just stared at him, their eyes glassy and cold.

Across the room was the door into the storage area at the rear of the lab. It was a heavy steel door, surrounded by what looked like inch thick glass or plexiglass, which Sutton knew would be immune to any gunfire or other assault he could hope to unleash upon it. He looked closely at the locking mechanism. It had the same type of biometric reader as the external door, but in addition, there was a numeric keypad, with a small green display above it, reading "READY." It looked as if the display could accept as many as a dozen digits.

"So... this looks to me as if I'm going to need not only one of your eyes," Sutton said, glancing from one scientist to another. "But also, an access code. I can get your eyes easily enough. But I suppose I'll have to persuade one of you to give me the code as well."