Snake Eye Read Free

“wet the place down.”
    Aspee stood with gas cans in hand staring down at Posadas bloody corpse. A look of revulsion appeared on his face. His cheeks started to bulge and he threw up. The three of them had shared a special celebratory dinner four hours earlier and his share splattered all over the floor. McDonnel made a face. “That was gross, Greg. Okay, Larry, it’s up to us. Grab a can and let’s get going.”
    The terrorists slopped gasoline over the countertops, and poured the liquid into file cabinets and onto the lab’s computer equipment. “All right,” McDonnel said, as sirens sounded in the distance. “Time to get out of here. Greg, are you ready?”
    Aspee looked pale but determined. He nodded stiffly, lit a kitchen match, and tossed it into the middle of the room. There was a loud “whump!” followed by a wave of heat. The threesome backed out of the room.
    The building’s sprinkler system came on, but it didn’t really matter, since the group had already accomplished what they came for. The first stage of the operation was complete. The second was about to start.
     
    Rossi knew something was wrong the moment she saw Nealy’s sedan. Half a dozen students had gathered around it, the passenger side door was open, and a body was sprawled out onto the pavement. The agent grabbed the mike off her dash, identified herself, and told the dispatcher to send an aid unit plus back-up.
    Then Rossi pulled over, jumped out of her car, and ran toward the scene. She could hear sirens and knew help was coming, but took out her weapon just in case. The agent held her badge up for people to see, and yelled “FBI! Move away from the car!”
    It was a dramatic moment—and one that Americo Lopa managed to capture on tape from the edge of the steadily growing crowd. He wore his ball cap backwards so it wouldn’t interfere with the viewfinder, and the lower part of his face was obscured by a scarf. Other than that he was dressed student-style, in a parka, jeans, and boots.
    Though manufactured for the high-end consumer market, the GR-SXM93OU JVC vid cam put out broadcast-quality images, even in low-light conditions. And that was important because the stuff that the cops would eventually harvest from the surrounding security cameras would be too static and vague to claim people’s attention for very long. And Lopa, who ran what he thought of as the Red Cell from the back of his van, wanted to ensure that the sanction received a lot of coverage. That was important because while there seemed to be a nearly inexhaustible supply of Muslim martyrs, people willing to die for the sake of the environment were in short supply.
    Most of the bystanders moved back out of the way as Rossi arrived, but one, a resident from the university’s hospital, stood waiting. A stethoscope dangled from her neck. There was blood on her hands. Her eyes locked with Rossi’s. “Did they belong to you?”
    The agent nodded mutely.
    “I’m sorry. Both of them are dead.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
    Rossi nodded for a second time. “Stay with them, Doctor. Don’t let anyone touch the vehicle or the bodies. Not Medic One…not anyone. This is a crime scene.” The resident nodded.
    The agent’s hand shook as she pulled the Nextel phone off her belt, told the dispatcher that two agents were down, and that the killer or killers might still be in the area. That was when someone yelled, “Rigg Hall is on fire!” Rossi ran toward the brick building and Lopa panned. Meanwhile, having been alerted by 911, a member of the University of Washington’s police force arrived on the scene even as a fire engine bulled in from the north.
    In spite of the fact that the sprinkler system had kept the flames down, flammable materials were stored in the lab and it wasn’t long before the fire found them. McDonnel heard a loud “whoosh” as additional oxygen was sucked into the room through the open fire door, and knew it was time for