Kaplan's voice came over the tiny speaker. "Some kind of dormant defense mechanism." One could have worked that one out on his own. "We must have tripped it when we opened the door."

"Put it back to sleep."

"Working on it."

Kaplan sounded panicky. One gritted his teeth. Kaplan was a good soldier, but he had a blind spot when technical problems didn't go his way.

One backed up slowly, joining up with Warner, Drew, and Danilova, figuring they were safer bunched together than spread out.

"Hold your positions." More for Kaplan's benefit than the others', he added, "Everyone stay calm."

"What's that?"

At Warner's words, One turned to see a thin white beam of light that extended horizontally across the length of the corridor right in front of the door to the Queen's chamber.

A laser.

Then it started moving toward them.

"Down!" One cried, pushing Drew, who was closest, down with him. To his credit, Warner ducked on his own. One couldn't see how Danilova reacted, and there wasn't time to check.

Instinctively trying to keep his balance, Drew thrust his right arm up as One knocked him over. That turned out to be a nasty mistake: the laser sliced right through the fingers of his gun hand, causing his rifle and the tips of his fingers to fall to the floor.

Drew grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and started screaming in agony.

To One's initial surprise, Drew's finger stumps weren't bleeding. Then, after only half a second, he realized that they wouldn't be. The laser was not only hot enough to cleanly slice through whatever it encountered, but also enough to cauterize any wound.

"Medic!" One cried.

He looked up to see why Danilova hadn't responded. To his utter amazement, she was just standing standing there like some kind of statue. there like some kind of statue.

What in the h.e.l.l was wrong with the woman? She'd never been anything but efficient and competent before, why was she just standing there now with that strange look of confusion frozen on her face?

Then One saw the trickle of blood that ringed her neck.

Olga Danilova's head started to slide forward on her neck, then tumble to the floor. As with Drew's fingers, the laser had cut through skin, muscle, and bone cleanly.

A moment later, the headless body fell to the floor as well.

In a lifetime of fighting, the man who now went by the nom de guerre nom de guerre of "One" had seen pretty much every type of death imaginable-and several that he couldn't imagine, even having seen them. He'd seen much grislier, more painful, far, far more brutal deaths than what he just witnessed. of "One" had seen pretty much every type of death imaginable-and several that he couldn't imagine, even having seen them. He'd seen much grislier, more painful, far, far more brutal deaths than what he just witnessed.

And yet the simple decapitation of Olga Danilova was done with such mechanical, ruthless, unthinking efficiency that One found it to be in its own way the most repugnant death he'd ever seen.

He forced his attention back to Drew, who was shaking, his eyes starting to flutter shut.

"Stay conscious-you're going into shock."

This admonition appeared to have no effect on the commando.

So One tried a more direct approach. "Stay awake awake!" he barked as loud as he could.

"Sir! It's coming back-it's coming back!"

Not happy that Warner was also panicking, One stood up, as did Warner. This time, the laser ran along the floor.

At once really impressed with and seriously p.i.s.sed off by the efficiency of the security program that ran this room, One got ready to jump.

The laser sliced through Drew.

Warner jumped up to avoid it, but even as he did so, the laser shifted upward and sliced through his torso. His feet and legs landed on the floor; half a second later, his head, arms, and torso landed on top of his legs with a squelching sound.

Having only another half a second to mull, One looked up, saw the ceiling light fixture, jumped, grabbed hold of the fixture, then pulled his body horizontal so it would be over the beam.

Feeling the heat of the beam as it pa.s.sed under his legs, a.s.s, and back, he heard a metallic clanking sound as it went by.

He landed, ready for anything. Taking a quick look down, he saw that the laser had sliced through his t.i.tanium knife and its holder.

The laser launched a third time.

One was ready for anything.

Or so he thought.

This time it spread into a diagonal grid that took up the entire breadth and height of the corridor. He could feel the heat of the ma.s.sive deathtrap on his face as it neared him, ready to cut him into distressingly small pieces.

Nowhere to jump, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

One's last word before he was literally cubed was: "s.h.i.t."

Sixteen.

BARTHOLOMEW JOSEPH KAPLAN HAD BEEN having a really good day.

Then again, any day that had One saying "Let's move out" was a good day as far as Bart Kaplan was concerned. After years of frustration, he was at last living his dream life at his dream job.

When he was a teenager, Kaplan had found his vocation: to be an agent working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It was the only thing he ever truly wanted.

Also when he was a teenager, he discovered that he had a tremendous apt.i.tude for computers. Actually, he had a tremendous apt.i.tude for most academic subjects; he finished Columbia High School in Maplewood, New Jersey, in three years, then blew through NYU's undergraduate program in two with a BS in computer science.

While his peers were still finishing their soph.o.m.ore years and trying to determine what to do with their lives, Kaplan was being recruited by dozens of large companies.

He turned them all down, because dammit, he was going to work for the FBI.

As it happened, the FBI was happy to have him-as a computer expert. His skills as a computer geek were of tremendous use to the feds, and they were thrilled to have him as a resource.

There was only one problem: Kaplan didn't want that. He wanted to be a field field agent. He explained that to his superiors. agent. He explained that to his superiors.

Most of them didn't laugh, though it was an effort for them.

Kaplan was a good shot, he had good instincts, and he kept in excellent shape. There was no good reason for them to keep him out of the field, save one: computer guys didn't go out in the field.

Besides which, good shots with good instincts who kept in excellent shape were a dime a dozen. The Bureau had people like that banging down their doors. They had fewer with Kaplan's skill set actually willing to work for a government salary.

But Kaplan didn't care about the money. He wanted to do field work.

That was when Umbrella came calling, with an offer to work for their Security Division.

It meant relocating to Racc.o.o.n City, but Kaplan considered it a small price to pay. h.e.l.l, he didn't have to pay pay anything-they quoted him a salary that was, frankly, obscene. Just because he didn't care about the money didn't mean he wouldn't take it, either. anything-they quoted him a salary that was, frankly, obscene. Just because he didn't care about the money didn't mean he wouldn't take it, either.

What mattered, though, was that his computer skills were put to good use and and he got to go into the field. he got to go into the field.

It wasn't quite the ideal situation he'd hoped for. The other guys in the squad treated him like some kind of technogeek who didn't know one end of his MP5K rifle from the other. J.D. and Rain in particular rode him like a prize pony.

But when the s.h.i.t hit the fan, they relied on him for all the techie know-how. They counted on him to have their backs, just as he counted on them to have his.

So seeing the words level 5 weapon system activated on the right-most of the three flatscreen monitors in front of him disturbed him greatly. The doors should never have shut, and no weapon system should be activating at any level. He was sure he'd bypa.s.sed everything everything, dammit!

"Will you open that door now, please?" Spence asked with a certain urgency.

Kaplan spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm trying."

Alice then said, "Kaplan, quick, something's happening in there."

That Kaplan knew, since the left-most monitor showed the security camera's view of what was happening in the corridor.

s.h.i.t. The laser. Kaplan didn't even think that was operational yet. It had only been recently installed, meant as a last-ditch security device only to be used in the direst of emergencies. Apparently, this qualified, and it had its own level of security. That was how Kaplan missed it.

"Kaplan, you've got to hurry, you've got to help help them!" them!"

Alice yelling at him from her vantage point at the door was not not helping. Neither was Spence hovering over him. helping. Neither was Spence hovering over him.

And neither was watching the laser cut through the room. Drew's gun hand was sliced off at the fingers.

Then Olga...

Christ.

The laser just went right through her neck like it was nothing. It seemed as if the beam just pa.s.sed harmlessly through the medic. At first, Kaplan allowed himself to believe that the security measure died down before it reached Olga.

That belief lasted right up until Olga's head fell off.

"My G.o.d, Kaplan, there's something killing killing them in there!" them in there!"

"Open the door!"

Jesus Christ, couldn't these two shut the f.u.c.k up up? "Yeah, I am trying trying!"

"Kaplan!"

"I'm almost there," he said, as much to convince himself. Just a few more protocols to go through.

"Kaplan, open the door!"

"I am trying trying," he said for the third time.

"Well try harder harder," Spence said, as if that would help.

The laser came through a second time, finishing off Warner and Drew, and almost taking out One.

"Oh G.o.d."

"Do it!"

He almost had it shut down. "I'm almost there!"

"Come on!"

"Got it!" Kaplan cried- -just as the laser grid had finished slicing and dicing One.

The laser winked out.

The door opened.

Somehow, Kaplan made himself stand up.

Jesus.

One head. One decapitated body. One body sliced in twain. One pair of legs. One torso with head and arms attached. A bag containing an EMP delivery system.

And a pile of human meat that used to be One.

Kaplan was probably the only person in the team who knew One's real name. He'd managed to pull it from an NSA database he wasn't supposed to have access to. He never revealed it because One had been the guy that, came to him at the Bureau, made him the offer the Bureau refused to provide.

Gave him his life.

And this was how Kaplan repaid that favor.

If he had just been one second faster, One would still be alive.

Instead, his boss was in dozens of cleanly sliced cubic pieces on the floor of a metal corridor a thousand feet underground.

Jesus Christ.