Callsign: Bishop - Book 1 (An Erik Somers - Chess Team Novella) by Jeremy Robinson, David McAfee Page B
Authors: Jeremy Robinson, David McAfee
Ads: Link
of Rook in that sense.
Thinking of Rook brought a twinge of tension to his back. The team hadn’t heard from him since they lost contact with him in the former Soviet Union. He had yet to resurface. Bishop hoped his friend was all right. Too often, someone on the team would say something, and then pause for Rook’s inevitable jab, but it never came. It was weird, like losing a limb. It felt like it was there, and it should be there, but no matter how many times you closed your eyes and opened them again, it never grew back. Queen took Rook’s disappearance the hardest. She hadn’t said much to anyone before heading out on a personal mission to find him, but it was obvious to everyone how heavily his disappearance weighed on her mind.
Rook will be fine, he thought. He can take care of himself. Bishop found himself wondering what Queen would do first when Rook finally did resurface. She’d most likely either hit him or kiss him. Probably both.
He reached the bottom of the ladder and looked around, squeezing thoughts of Rook and Queen from his mind. The last thing he needed right now was to be distracted. He would worry about his friends when this ergot business was finished.
He stood in the center of a large room filled with computers and other electronics. Everywhere he looked, a light blinked or a control screen beeped. Here and there, he spotted signs of human habitation: a coffee cup, an empty water bottle, a jacket draped over a chair. Yet there was not a single person in sight, and a thin layer of dust coated everything in the room.
Almost everything, he realized when he looked down.
Multiple sets of footprints marred the dust on the floor. The tracks led in every direction, and occasionally he spotted a square of dust-free space that he guessed to be the former location of lab equipment. Someone had gone through the place and taken everything they deemed valuable. Bishop’s money was on the jihadists. They hadn’t taken much, though. They probably didn’t know how to use most of it. Bishop could relate. The vast array of blinking and beeping machines would confuse just about anyone who wasn’t trained in their use. The only thing he thought he recognized was a base unit for a small, hardwired security system. If he followed the wires leading out of the unit, they would probably take him right to the facility’s security console. He would have to check that out before he left; there might be some video files that would help.
“All clear?” CJ asked from the entrance above.
“Clear,” Bishop replied, moving deeper into the facility, following some tracks.
He walked down a narrow hallway, passing numerous doors that opened into empty rooms. Tracks leading in and out of the rooms indicated that the jihadists had looted most of them, but as he looked into one room, he found a plain white refrigerator in a corner. The door hung open, facing him and blocking his view of the inside. On the door was a bright yellow and black Biohazard sign.
“Uh-oh,” CJ said behind him. “Don’t get too close.”
Bishop ignored him and took a step forward. He walked around the refrigerator, giving it a healthy distance, and peered inside.
It was empty.
“They took whatever was in there,” he said.
“They got the weaponized ergot?” CJ asked.
Bishop shook his head, just how much did CJ know, anyway? He would have to have a long talk with Deep Blue and Keasling when he got back. “Looks like it.”
“This is bad,” CJ said.
“Keep looking. Maybe we’ll find something useful.”
The room with the refrigerator occupied a corner of the facility, with the hallway leading off in two directions. They split up, with Bishop going right and CJ going left. Numerous doors lined Bishop’s section of hallway, but none of them were locked. Some had been forced open by a crowbar or some other tool. All proved useless. The very last door opened up on a room lined with row upon row of empty shelves. Bishop tried to
Thinking of Rook brought a twinge of tension to his back. The team hadn’t heard from him since they lost contact with him in the former Soviet Union. He had yet to resurface. Bishop hoped his friend was all right. Too often, someone on the team would say something, and then pause for Rook’s inevitable jab, but it never came. It was weird, like losing a limb. It felt like it was there, and it should be there, but no matter how many times you closed your eyes and opened them again, it never grew back. Queen took Rook’s disappearance the hardest. She hadn’t said much to anyone before heading out on a personal mission to find him, but it was obvious to everyone how heavily his disappearance weighed on her mind.
Rook will be fine, he thought. He can take care of himself. Bishop found himself wondering what Queen would do first when Rook finally did resurface. She’d most likely either hit him or kiss him. Probably both.
He reached the bottom of the ladder and looked around, squeezing thoughts of Rook and Queen from his mind. The last thing he needed right now was to be distracted. He would worry about his friends when this ergot business was finished.
He stood in the center of a large room filled with computers and other electronics. Everywhere he looked, a light blinked or a control screen beeped. Here and there, he spotted signs of human habitation: a coffee cup, an empty water bottle, a jacket draped over a chair. Yet there was not a single person in sight, and a thin layer of dust coated everything in the room.
Almost everything, he realized when he looked down.
Multiple sets of footprints marred the dust on the floor. The tracks led in every direction, and occasionally he spotted a square of dust-free space that he guessed to be the former location of lab equipment. Someone had gone through the place and taken everything they deemed valuable. Bishop’s money was on the jihadists. They hadn’t taken much, though. They probably didn’t know how to use most of it. Bishop could relate. The vast array of blinking and beeping machines would confuse just about anyone who wasn’t trained in their use. The only thing he thought he recognized was a base unit for a small, hardwired security system. If he followed the wires leading out of the unit, they would probably take him right to the facility’s security console. He would have to check that out before he left; there might be some video files that would help.
“All clear?” CJ asked from the entrance above.
“Clear,” Bishop replied, moving deeper into the facility, following some tracks.
He walked down a narrow hallway, passing numerous doors that opened into empty rooms. Tracks leading in and out of the rooms indicated that the jihadists had looted most of them, but as he looked into one room, he found a plain white refrigerator in a corner. The door hung open, facing him and blocking his view of the inside. On the door was a bright yellow and black Biohazard sign.
“Uh-oh,” CJ said behind him. “Don’t get too close.”
Bishop ignored him and took a step forward. He walked around the refrigerator, giving it a healthy distance, and peered inside.
It was empty.
“They took whatever was in there,” he said.
“They got the weaponized ergot?” CJ asked.
Bishop shook his head, just how much did CJ know, anyway? He would have to have a long talk with Deep Blue and Keasling when he got back. “Looks like it.”
“This is bad,” CJ said.
“Keep looking. Maybe we’ll find something useful.”
The room with the refrigerator occupied a corner of the facility, with the hallway leading off in two directions. They split up, with Bishop going right and CJ going left. Numerous doors lined Bishop’s section of hallway, but none of them were locked. Some had been forced open by a crowbar or some other tool. All proved useless. The very last door opened up on a room lined with row upon row of empty shelves. Bishop tried to
Similar Books
