The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(42)

The first rays of sunlight were creeping into the room, and her roommate was already up.

Kate opened the backpack and began searching it. She opened the small notebook and turned to the first page.

Martin had scribbled a message to her.


My Dearest Kate,


If you’re reading this, they’ve caught us. For the past 40 days, this has been my greatest fear. I tried 4 times to get you out. But it was too late. Of the 30 patients that died in the trial, I hoped each one would lead us to a cure. But we ran out of time. Since your father disappeared 29-5-87, I spent every waking hour trying to make you safe. My failure is complete.

Grant my last wish: save yourself. Leave me. It’s all I ask.

I am proud of the woman you’ve become.


Martin

Kate closed the notebook. Then she read it again. Martin’s message to her was clear. And touching. But she sensed there was something else. She took a pencil from the pack and circled all the numbers. Together, they read: 4043029587

A phone number. Kate sat up in the bed.

“What is that?” her roommate asked.

Kate was so lost in thought she almost didn’t hear her. “Um… a… crossword puzzle.”

Her roommate set her book down and rolled over, suddenly interested. “Can I have it when you’re done?”

Kate shrugged. “Sorry, I wrote on it.”

Her roommate scowled, got up from the bed, and padded on heavy feet to the bathroom without another word. The lock clicked.

Kate fished the satellite phone out of the pack and dialed the number.

The sat phone beeped once, then clicked, and a voice began immediately, in a manner that told Kate that it was a recording. The voice was female; an American.

“Continuity. Status follows. Recording time: 22:15 Atlanta Local, Plague Day seventy-nine. Trial 498: result negative.”

Trial 498. What was the last trial she had done—where Marie Romero had died? The tube Martin had begged her for, the result he uploaded into the thermos-like cylinder? 493? There had been five trials since then, obviously at other sites.

“Network status: down. Dial zero for operator.” The speaker paused and then the voice changed. “Continuity. Unsere Situation ist…”

The message was repeating in German. Kate hit zero on the keypad. She heard rustling in the bathroom.

If her roommate saw the sat phone, she would report it immediately, and Kate would be interrogated. The soldiers had set forth the “honor code” of the survivors’ tower: all “members” had to turn in any weapons or electronics. They weren’t searched—part of the Immari brainwashing was apparently to pretend they were voluntary members, not prisoners, and forced searches would have shattered the charade. Still, the Immari had set out severe consequences for any signs of dissent. Anyone caught with anything suspicious, anything shiny and sharp or with an on-off switch, was immediately transferred to the other tower—with those who didn’t pledge.

Kate held the phone behind the pillow, where her roommate wouldn’t see it if she emerged from the bathroom. Kate lowered her head to the phone, halfway behind the pillow and listened.

A woman answered, speaking quickly. “Access code?”

It took Kate a second to process what she had said.

“I…”

“Access code.”

“I don’t know it,” Kate whispered as she eyed the door.

“Identify yourself,” the woman said, with a hint of concern or possibly suspicion.

“I… I work with Martin Grey.”

“Put him on the line.”

Kate thought for a moment. In the back of her mind, she wanted to hold back, to extract more information, but how? She was out of time—and options. What choice did she have but to tell her story and ask for help?

The bathroom door clicked.

Kate dropped the phone behind the pillow. Then remembered to hit the end button.

She looked up to see her roommate eyeing her.

Kate tried to focus on the notebook she held in her other hand. “What?” she said innocently.

“Were you talking to somebody?”

“Myself.” Kate held up the notebook. “Helps me with spelling. I’m a terrible speller.” And liar, she thought.

The suspicion lingered on her roommate’s face, but she returned to her bunk and resumed reading.

The next three hours passed in silence. Kate lay on her bunk, thinking, wondering how she could get Martin out. Her roommate read, occasionally laughing.

The breakfast call came and her roommate was up and at the door in seconds. She paused. “You coming?”

“Gonna let the line die down,” Kate said.

The instant the door closed, Kate dialed the number again.

“Access code?”

“It’s me again. I work with Martin Grey.”

“Put Dr. Grey—”

“I can’t. We’re separated. We’ve been captured by the Immari.”

“What’s your access code?”

“Look, I don’t know it. We need help. He kept me in the dark. I don’t know anything, but Martin is going to die in hours if we don’t get some help.”

“Identify yourself.”

Kate exhaled. “Kate Warner.”

The line was silent and Kate thought maybe it had been disconnected. She glanced at the phone readout. The seconds were still counting up. “Hello?” She waited. “Hello?”