Page 77 of Echo: Burn
We breach the door with practiced efficiency, sweeping the entry corridor with weapons and lights. Empty. Abandoned equipment and overturned furniture suggest a hasty evacuation, but the deeper we go, the more Odin's agitation increases.
We round a corner into the main production floor, and I stop dead.
The facility isn't abandoned.
It's running.
Assembly lines hum with activity. Chemical processors cycle through production phases. Storage tanks line the far wall, filled with compounds I can identify by their color and consistency. Crates sit stacked near loading docks, ready for transport.
"Holy shit," Stryker breathes.
"They're not sanitizing. They're still producing."
Kane keys his comm. "Tommy, Karina—facility is hot. Repeat, facility is operational. Full production status."
"What?" Karina's voice cuts through, sharp with disbelief. "That's impossible. My source said they were sanitizing...”
"Your source was wrong," Kane interrupts. "Or the Committee fed you bad intel. Either way, we've got active weapons production here."
A pause. Then Karina again, quieter: "They played me. God, they knew I'd pass this to you. They wanted you to find it."
"We'll sort it out later." Kane cuts the connection. "Right now we need samples and data."
I move closer to the nearest workstation, studying the chemical formulas displayed on monitors. "This isn't just storage. It's an active production facility."
"And staging area." Kane points to the crates. Each one is labeled with shipping codes and destination markers. "They're preparing for distribution."
My medical training kicks in as I examine the production specifications. The molecular structures on screen make my blood run cold. Binary chemical weapons—two separately harmless compounds that become lethal when mixed. Component A is being synthesized on the left side of the facility. Component B on the right. Neither particularly dangerous on its own.
But combined, they form something worse than anything I studied in school. Worse than VX nerve agent. Worse than sarin. The compounds are designed to bind to acetylcholinesterase receptors with such efficiency that a single drop on exposed skin would cause complete neuromuscular paralysis within seconds. Respiratory failure. Cardiac arrest. Death in under two minutes with no effective treatment.
And they're making it by the barrel.
"This is worse than nerve agents. These are binary weapons. Impossible to detect separately. Easy to transport. Can be assembled anywhere, anytime." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Kane, if they deploy this at the inauguration with even moderate efficiency, the casualty count won't be in the hundreds. It'll be in the tens of thousands."
His face goes pale in the emergency lighting. "Then we make sure they don't get the chance."
"And we found the assembly line." I watch as Kane's face becomes grim. "Stryker, secure the perimeter. Willa and I are going for samples and data. We need everything we can carry—chemical compositions, production schedules, distribution plans."
"Copy that." Stryker and Mercer peel off, moving to establish defensive positions.
Kane and I approach the main computer terminal. I pull out the portable drive Tommy equipped me with, inserting it into the system. Files begin copying immediately—thousands of documents, spreadsheets, production logs.
"This is going to take five minutes." I watch the progress bar crawl forward.
"Then we have five minutes." Kane moves to collect samples from the chemical processors, carefully filling containment vials with Components A and B. "Once we have this, Tommy can analyze it. Figure out detection methods, neutralization protocols."
"If we get out of here." I glance around the facility, skin crawling with the certainty that we're being watched. "Where is everyone? Why leave all this running if the facility's compromised?"
Kane stops, samples in hand, eyes scanning the shadows. "Because someone wanted us to find it."
The realization hits us both simultaneously.
"It's bait."
Gunfire erupts from the perimeter.
"Stryker, report!" Kane barks into comms.
