The Satan Strain: ATLAS Force, #1

Other books by

Jack Dillon

The Death List

Book One

Paradise Cove

Prologue

The sun shone down on the inhabitants of the sleepy little village as they went about their lives unhindered by the knowledge of what was about to happen.

The buildings were built in a mock Tudor style with the small cottages all having decorative half timbering, steeply pitched roofs with prominent cross gabling.

Sitting on the lee of a hill, the small village overlooked its own private stretch of coastline including a perfectly white sandy beach. The gated community called Paradise Cove, was privately owned by a Corporation and was a retirement community for those who had the wealth and opportunity to make use of it. What those people were unaware of though, was that the village held a secret – a secret that was about to cost the lives of every living soul there.

This day had begun not unlike most others in this small slice of heaven. The weather was typically Mediterranean and the village was blessed with warm sunny days followed by cool balmy nights where the sea breeze cooled the land down just enough. This morning, like most others, saw the inhabitants wake up to a clear blue sky where clouds were kept at bay until rain was needed. People began to go about their daily lives at their normal, leisurely pace; nothing about the village was rushed. The streets started to wake up as the villagers came out of their cottages to go about their business, to socialise and generally live what was left of their lives in the relaxed and luxurious atmosphere that their lifetime dedication to the Corporation had provided.

Coffee shops began to fill up with people taking breakfast, while others chose a different path.

They had no idea what was about to happen. From vents in the ground an invisible mist was released which began instantly to mingle with the air in the village. This mist was like no other; this was no early morning mist, this was as deadly as it was insidious.

The first person to fall was Jacob Wilder. He was seventy-five years old, in remarkably good health and, for the majority of his working life, on the board of directors of many of the companies owned by the Corporation. He was what was described as a good man; he had no enemies and was liked by everyone he came in contact with. None of that saved him though when he breathed in the contaminated air. He clutched at his throat as his airwaves were suddenly and violently constricted. Unable to breath he fell to his knees, as his face turned a deep shade of blue. The rest of his body began to shut down as he toppled to the ground and the last thing his failing eyesight registered was the sight of others in the village also falling to the ground.

Within five minutes of the toxin escaping, the entire population of the village had succumbed to its deadly effects and were lying where they fell, all dead.

1

Colonel Jack Flynn was walking down the corridor with a sense of purpose that showed he had a place to go and a time frame to get there in. His long legs powered him along as his slate grey eyes scanned the area before him so he could avoid anyone in his way. He was dressed in tan slacks, a white shirt and brown leather bomber jacket, his usual attire when not required to wear his uniform. At six feet three and with a lean athletic build he drew admiring glances from women as he passed them by in the corridor.

As he reached his destination he ran a hand through his dark hair and, with a determined set to his square jaw, he opened the door.

Go right in sir, he’s expecting you, said Marta Johnson, the second in command to the person he had been summoned to see. She was in her early thirties with long raven-coloured hair that, when working, was always neatly tied in a ponytail which hung down her slender back. Deep brown eyes surveyed everything and everyone who came through her door. Her normal pleasant expression was today replaced by one that displayed some stress, and as Jack approached he knew the summons was warranted.

Thank you Marta, he replied in his deep, smooth tones.

He opened the door behind her desk and entered the inner sanctum of General Wilber Colclough, the head of ATLAS Force.

As he entered the room he approached the man seated behind the large oak desk before him. General Colclough was in his sixties, still trim and fit, with salt and pepper hair swept back from a high forehead into a widow’s peak. Eyes that were so grey as to be almost colourless looked up from a file he was working on to look at Jack. In a world filled with technology he still preferred to read files himself rather than allow the computer to do it for him. In a world filled with iPads and tablets, paper and pens were still his norm, and he would use them gladly until he was forced not to. He was the epitome of ‘old school’.

This is a bad one Jack, the General said by way of greeting. Come in and sit down, he added.

As Jack took the offered seat he said, So tell me sir, what’s happened?

Colclough looked at him and said, An incident occurred that we’re just hearing about. It happened in a gated community built for the retirees from the Jordan Corporation, Colclough said.

What exactly happened sir?

Somehow a bio-weapon was released and killed them all.

Jack sat back in his chair as he took in this information. How many lives are we talking about here, sir? he said.

Three hundred and twenty-four.

How did it come by us, sir, is this some new weapon?

At the moment no one’s sure, so that’s what I want you to find out. As far as I’m aware, the local authorities are trying to contain it but you know what the media are like, if they smell even a hint of a story they’ll pursue it to the end.

Has anyone claimed responsibility for this act yet?

They may be waiting to see what response there is and then come forward, but as yet there’s been no claimant.

Has a Haz mat team been sent to the site to investigate?

They’re en route as we speak; I want you there to learn who’s behind this.

And stop them from doing the same somewhere else, I presume.

Exactly. It bothers me that this particular site was chosen for this event. Why this particular village, does it hold some significance for the unsub? If it does, you need to find out what before he moves on to somewhere more populated. You don’t need me to tell you how important this is Jack, so all I’ll say is good luck. You’re booked on the next flight out; it leaves in less than an hour so you’d better get a move on.

Without a word Jack got to his feet and made his way to the door.

Keep me informed Colonel, Colclough said as he watched Jack leave his office.

As he left the office he stopped at Marta’s desk to say, Have you got my travel arrangements?

Your C17 Globemaster leaves from JFK International in fifty minutes. Your contact once you arrive is Donald Frohme, head of security for the Jordan Corporation. You’ll be working closely with him and they assure us that you’ll have everything you need. The Haz mat team is led by Colonel Mary Qui of ATLAS Med Division and they should be all set up by the time you arrive.

What back up will I have? Jack asked.

Captain Waters will be on board along with Team Alpha, everything is in place. Your ride to the airport is waiting, Jack.

With a stern expression he turned to leave.

Come back safe, Jack, she said as he left her room.

2

Since the terrorist attack on the United States in 2001 on September 11, the United States made a decision to wage war on terror and take the fight to them. It was a problem that every country would face eventually so a joint task force from the US, the UK, Germany and France was set up. ATLAS Force, a military intelligence tactical unit, was set up in 2005 to take a different approach and, after initial teething troubles, began to do its job with a success rate that was unprecedented. After ten years ATLAS was a force to be reckoned with and received full funding from all member nations. ATLAS was actually an acronym; it stood for Advanced Threats, Locate And Secure. Whatever the threats – technological to biological – ATLAS was there to ensure they were nullified.

Jack’s transport was a Bell 222 chopper, which took him straight to the airport, his go-bag already deposited inside ready for him to collect. The chopper deposited Jack at the airport and he quickly alighted carrying his go-bag.

The C17 Globemaster was a military transport that had been in use since the early nineteen eighties. It had a capacity to carry over one hundred soldiers to various locations, supporting all the latest communications and sensors available. It was parked on the runway as Jack got off the chopper where it would take off shortly after his arrival.

Jack sprinted across the reinforced concrete runway to the boarding ramp that had been lowered in preparation for his arrival.

Jack was met on board the C17 Globemaster by a tall man dressed in the uniform of a SHARC, the Special Hot Zone Armed Response Commandos, an elite unit attached to ATLAS that was the teeth of the Force, a unit Jack also belonged to. The uniform was similar to all combat marines: black coveralls with patch pockets on the legs and arms and the insignia of the unit, a Shark breaching water with a lightning bolt slashing across it, on both arms high up at the shoulder. He also wore his standard sidearm, the Heckler Koch HK P30 on his hip. A derivative of the P2000 range it featured a double-stacked magazine that held fifteen rounds of 9mm ammunition. On his shoulder was slung an XM8 assault rifle, also manufactured in the United States from a design by Heckler and Koch.

Jack recognised him and said, Captain Waters, good to see you again.

You too, Colonel. The men are ready as ordered and waiting to be briefed as soon as you’ve settled in, Waters said.

Okay, tell the pilot we can leave soon as he has clearance, Jack said, throwing his go-bag into the luggage compartment above his seat. He sat down and Waters sat next to him. Waters touched his ear to operate his comm. unit and said, Everyone is on board Cap. You can take off when ready.

Jack turned to Waters and said, We’ve been ordered to Paradise Cove, a small village built by the Jordan Corporation which has been targeted with a bio weapon. A Haz mat team are en route as we speak and should be on site by the time we arrive. I hope they have some answers for us when we get there.

Do we know what was used and who is responsible, sir? Waters asked.

That’s what we are going to ascertain Captain.

Is that all we have to go on?

I’m afraid it is. I know it’s desperately thin but we’ll just have to cope and think on our feet, figure it out as we go along.

It’s what we do, sir, said Waters with a smile.

Jack got out of his seat, took his go-bag down from the overhead compartment and extracted his sidearm and holster. He put on the holster beneath his jacket then fitted the HK P30 into it. He already knew the gun was ready to use as he’s checked it earlier in the day and kept it in a state of readiness. His life literally depended upon him being able to use it at any time so he made sure it was always available and ready to fire.

He returned to his seat as the C17 was making her final approach to the runway.

THE VILLAGE OF PARADISE Cove was situated on an island off the coast of Tunisia. They would have to land at the airport that was just large enough to accommodate the plane. Luckily they had come equipped and ready for most eventualities. Inside the cargo hold of the C17 were two Cougar All Terrain Vehicles. They were designed to protect troops in combat against mines or improvised munitions. They could each carry a crew of two, plus another four soldiers.

As soon as the C17 touched down the two Cougars exited the loading ramp at the rear of the plane. The SHARC’s along with Jack had boarded the vehicles as the pilot of the C17 had put her down safely.

The journey to Paradise Cove was uneventful and the two vehicles were soon pulling up at the front of the gated community.

In front of the village, at a safe distance, was the Haz mat truck that served as the team’s mobile command centre. Jack had the drivers of the two Cougars pull up alongside the truck and they all got out.

A safe perimeter had been put in place by security, not the local authorities, but the Jordan Corporation. As they exited the Cougars a tall, blond-haired man walked towards them. He was dressed in a suit that must have cost a month’s pay for a soldier and he had the confident grace of someone used to being in command.

His angular face was set in a stern expression and his blue eyes fixed Jack in a stony glare as he approached them.

You must be Donald Frohme. I’m Jack Flynn and I’ll be heading this investigation, he said holding out his hand in greeting.

I’ve made sure the media are kept away from here and a security perimeter is in place. No one gets in or out without us knowing, Frohme said as he took the offered hand.

What can you tell us of what happened here? Jack asked.

Frohme looked pensive as if he was holding something back, which Jack noticed instantly.

Okay, what are you not telling me? Jack said. Before Frohme could reply another figure came towards them. Dressed in the uniform of a Colonel of ATLAS Force, Medical Corp, Mary Qui looked worried. She was in her mid thirties with flawless olive-toned skin and jet-black long hair that was tied back in a braid that hung down her back. Her deep brown eyes had the epicanthic folds that told of her Asian heritage along with the high cheekbones making her, in Jack’s opinion, very attractive. She was tall for someone with her heritage, standing at almost six feet. Her athletic build was testament to her training in the military. As she