Under Professor Smith's lead, Cole Shaw reached the vault at the laboratory's core. Every new weapons platform was moved here the moment a build stabilised, held until the full data battery cleared; only then would the military accept delivery.
"Stand back. There's a facial scan. We need to take positions here," Smith said.
"Got it," Cole replied, stepping aside.
The scanner swept Jason Tate and Smith. Only the iris check remained to open the vault.
Then Smith moved—his palm slapped for the alarm on the face of the safe.
A sharp beeping stuttered to life. Cole's expression hardened. Jason's changed, too; he slammed the button again to cancel the alert. The lab doors, which had begun to rise, halted halfway and ground back down.
Outside, in the monitoring booth, the first wail had already mobilized the response. Dozens of soldiers, rifles up, pounded toward the lab.
Inside, Cole pressed the Mad Dog knife to Smith's neck. "Professor, why?"
Jason stared, stunned. "Sir… why would you do this?"
Smith's voice was calm, even paternal. "Jason, stop this. Hand him over and I'll speak for you. We don't need to betray the military. Do as you're told and this ends."
He had never trusted Cole. He'd read the mercenary as a threat steering Jason, and he had no intention of betraying the United States. He'd only played along to lower Cole's guard. The moment Cole slipped, he'd planned to trigger the alarm. That had always been the move.
"I miscalculated," Cole said softly. "But you won't win like this. Read."
He set a recorder on the desk, slid a card beneath Smith's eyes, and pressed an electrode patch to Smith's larynx—voice-simulation gel already on the contact. Then he jacked the portable iris reader into the safe's panel.
"Read it. Now." The blade bit a fraction deeper at Smith's throat.
Feeling the sting, Smith began reciting the passphrase off the card.
A chime sounded. Verification accepted. The vault door cycled open.
Cole chopped Smith unconscious and motioned Jason through. They slipped into the vault and brought the door back down.
At the same time, the security team flooded the outer lab. Boots hammered to a stop in front of the safe. "Professor Smith, what happened?" the lead officer called.
"Sorry—I brushed the alarm. It's fine," Jason's voice answered from inside.
"Where is Professor Smith?" the officer pressed.
"He's finishing the last step. He doesn't want to be disturbed," Jason said again.
The officer didn't buy it. "Open up. We need to verify."
He pulled a tool from his kit and started on the panel, signalling his team to cover.
Inside the vault, Cole wedged Smith upright in a chair, back to the room, shoulders draped in his white coat and squared to the workstation. Cole slid into the shadowed knee-well beneath the desk, hidden by the coat's hang.
The voice-loader's countdown ticked in Cole's ear—ten seconds. He could handle a stack of soldiers, but noise would blow the larger plan. He still needed the Expendables team to arrive on schedule.
The door cracked. The officer stepped in, eyes sweeping—and saw Smith's familiar back hunched over data.
Jason moved fast. "Professor doesn't want interruptions during analysis. He was tired and brushed the alarm. Please give him space."
The officer ignored Jason and tried the direct route. "Professor Smith. Professor?"
Silence a beat too long.
Then "Smith" spoke—perfectly cloned timbre riding the throat patch through the recorder. "Accidentally hit the alarm. I'm commencing final analysis now. You can receive after I'm done. Clear the room."
The officer hesitated, then nodded. Smith's seniority carried weight. "All right. We'll clear."
He waved his people out. The safe door rolled shut again.
Jason slumped to the floor, lungs finally releasing. He hadn't dared breathe loudly.
Cole slid from under the bench. Jason looked guilty. "Sorry, Cole. I didn't think the professor would—"
"This isn't on you," Cole said. "He's served the United States his whole life. He won't turn easily."
Smith hadn't broken any oath; he'd tried to protect Jason the only way he understood. But trust, now, was gone.
Jason followed Cole's look to the unconscious man. He knew exactly what Cole was weighing. Smith had pulled him in, taught him, and helped cover treatment for his family. Jason had paid it back with years in the lab. He'd wanted to keep Smith if they could. Betrayal changed the math.
"Do what you have to do," Jason said quietly.
Cole nodded.