Chapter 29 - The Architect's Net
The sudden slam of the slab created a massive backpressure wave that knocked Melissa off balance. Her first shot went wild, the suppressed bullet shattering the glass face of the third refrigeration chamber.
A high-pressure jet of liquid nitrogen vapor roared into the room, creating an instant, blinding cloud of white fog that dropped the temperature by forty degrees in a matter of seconds.
"Rachel!" Daniel screamed, rolling across the floor as the freezing vapor curled across his legs.
I didn't reach for a weapon; I reached for the fire suppression system mounted behind the console. I ripped a twelve-pound Halon canister from its bracket and swung it blindly through the white fog.
The heavy steel cylinder collided with Melissa's forearm. The pistol flew from her grip, clattering across the slick concrete floor and sliding straight into the drainage sump beneath the nitrogen tanks.
Melissa didn't panic. She didn't scream. With terrifying economy of motion, she drew a combat knife from her tactical belt, stepping forward through the freezing fog, the blade slicing upward in a lethal arc aimed at my throat.
I jumped back, the tip of the steel tearing through the collar of my flannel shirt, scoring a line of fire across my collarbone. The cold in the room was already excruciating; our breath crystallized instantly in the air, and frost began forming on our clothes and eyelashes.
"You foolish girl," Melissa hissed, her lips turning blue as she circled me, blade held low and ready. "This room is airtight. That leak will displace all the oxygen in four minutes. You just sealed your own coffin."
"Then we die together," I said, gripping the Halon canister with both hands like a club.
"I have a secondary transponder in my watch," she whispered, stepping lightly across the frost-crusted floor. "My extraction team has heavy breaching charges on their transport. They will cut through that slab in ten minutes. They will pull my body out and revive me. You and your worthless brother will be frozen meat."
She lunged.
She was faster, stronger, and infinitely better trained than I was. She feinted to the left, caught my wrist with her bare hand, and drove the butt of the knife into my cheekbone. The world spun in a kaleidoscope of white light and agonizing pain. I crashed to the floor, the Halon tank slipping from my numb fingers.
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Melissa stepped over me, planting her boot heavily on my chest, pinning me to the frozen concrete. She reversed her grip on the knife, positioning the tip directly over my right eye.
"First the cornea," she whispered, her voice rattling with the freezing chill. "Then the thumb."
