Maybe it was best this way. The death they planned for him would be a lot quicker than the radiation and a lot more pleasant than living with the knowledge that he’d failed to prevent the murder of tens of millions of innocent people.

There was a quiet hissing behind him and he glanced back to see the door sliding open again. It took him a moment to process what had happened, but when he did a thin smile spread across his face.

Ito, you beautiful son of a bitch…

The men in front of him were only seconds from overrunning his position, a few firing wildly in his direction, hoping to get lucky. The Glock was sighted in just as meticulously as the Sig and the lead man went down, slowing the group’s progress as they were forced to leap over their fallen comrade.

Smith slithered backward and wasn’t quite through when the door reversed itself. He put a hand against the cavern wall and shoved, barely getting his head clear before it closed. The dull thud of men hitting the other side was audible as he rolled onto his back and gulped at the cool air. A moment later that sound was replaced by the far less comforting roar of an engine starting up. Struggling to his knees, he squinted into the sun coming from the cavern entrance. An open jeep was racing toward the light with a familiar outline hunched over the wheel. Masao Takahashi.

Smith got to his feet and started running again, but he couldn’t manage anything more than a staggering jog. His broken ribs were preventing him from taking in full breaths and he’d used up the last of his adrenaline. All he could do was watch helplessly as the jeep disappeared.

He was about forty yards from the cavern entrance when he spotted a human outline slip into view. Smith dived to the ground just as man opened up with a submachine gun. The shooter’s eyes were adjusted to the bright sunlight so instead of trying to aim he just hosed the place down.

Smith rested the butt of the Glock in the dirt to try to isolate it from his heaving chest. The gun jerked in his grip but the man kept firing. Smith lined up again and squeezed the trigger, this time forcing himself to hold his breath despite desperately needing oxygen.

The assault rifle kept sparking but the position of the barrel faltered and finally dropped, kicking up a cloud of dust as the rounds pounded the ground. A moment later the man was down.

Smith tried to stand but only made it to his knees before he collapsed. He lay there on his stomach, choking quietly on the dust until the burning in his lungs and limbs started to subside. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet and lurched forward. He had to get to a phone. He had to talk to Klein.

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