The morning sun rose pink over the Rockies as the Blackhawk's skids thumped onto the tarmac of a clandestine alpine airstrip. Viola Kane and Lester Hayden stepped down into the crisp dawn, escorted by Marlowe and a pair of federal agents in dark suits. The helicopter slipped back into the pre-dawn gloom, its rotors fading.
Viola exhaled, breath visible in the thin air. She clutched the titanium canister and the remaining vials to her chest, heart still pounding from last night's ambush. Beside her, Lester's arm wrapped gently around her waist.
“Safe for now," he murmured, scanning the tree line.
She nodded, but her eyes were already on the drive. “We need to get this to the DOJ lab by noon." She tapped the canister. “And these vials to certified cold storage."
An agent approached. “FBI
