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classified information to tarnish a record as exemplary as yours.”
    Miller’s smirk faltered as he felt himself flush. “I thought you didn’t know why Kimball was upset?”
    Harris’s façade cracked. “Are we understanding each other, Mr. Miller?”
    Miller pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, but thinking better, he leaned back inside and glared at Harris. “What I understand is that we have a mutation amongst the Infected due to some asshole experimenting on them with secret air bombs full of anti-parasitics—and I understand that by playing God, this jerkwad has made things worse. That’s what I understand, Bob. ”
    Miller slammed the door before he could hear Harris’s reply.
    Du Trieux stood a few feet ahead in the hallway. She’d obviously heard every word, given her expression.
    “Making enemies?” she asked, waiting for him to catch up so they could exit the cell block together.
    “Only when I have to,” Miller grunted in reply.

 
    4
     
     
    M ILLER ENTERED L. Gray Matheson’s office without bothering to knock.
    Lewis stood beside the desk, looking dejected and tired. A pair of binoculars were up to his eyes as he peered out the window. The air outside looked thick with dust, which gave the horizon an ominous red glow. Miller didn’t know how Lewis could see anything through the film caking the window.
    The air conditioner that normally hummed by the window sat in the corner, unplugged. The office was as stuffy as a sauna.
    Gray sat as his desk wiping beads of sweat from his brow, looking grim.
    “What’s the emergency?” Miller asked. “This have anything to do with my being detained?”
    Gray’s confusion spoke volumes. “What? When were you detained?”
    “Never mind,” Miller said. Turning to Lewis, he asked, “What’s happened this time?”
    “The ship’s arrived,” Lewis said, not turning from the window. “The one from North Korea.”
    “Harris’s payload.” Miller nodded.
    Lewis handed him the binoculars.
    Miller took them and searched the East River, eventually spotting the tail end of the ship to the south, past Roosevelt Island. A Paramax freighter, approximately three hundred meters long, sailing away from the compound.
    Miller couldn’t see any disturbance from the engines. The vessel floated freely—even crookedly—drifting down river like a ghost ship.
    “Where the hell is it going?”
    “It went right by us and picked up speed once it passed Ward’s Island,” Lewis said. “No radio response or contact since it entered the Strait of Gibraltar. We’re not sure who’s in charge of the ship, or if there is anybody in charge at this point.”
    “Dangerous cargo for a ship to be floating free down the East River,” Miller said. “It had to have steering capabilities at some point. They never could have navigated this far without them.”
    Gray nodded. “Can you imagine if the Infected got a hold of that ship? The losses would be catastrophic.”
    “‘Catastrophic’ doesn’t do it justice, sir. It would be the end.”
    Gray’s face paled. “We can’t lose the cargo, Alex. Harris was a fool to bring it here, but now we have to make sure nobody else gets it. And we can’t send any of the other security teams—they’ll take it to Harris and he’ll blow all of Manhattan to ash.” Gray rubbed the stubble on his face with a soft scraping noise. His eyes were bagged and bloodshot. Miller wondered when he’d slept last. He looked like hell.
    Come to think of it, they all did.
    “I’ve got sign-off from the board,” Gray continued. “Operation Sea Mink.”
    “We’ve only just—”
    “You have to secure that cargo,” Gray said. “Whatever the cost.”
    Miller turned toward Lewis. “Do we even have a plan?”
    The commander shrugged. “Take a chopper and secure the ship. Repair the thrusters and steering. Get that ship back here asap.”
    “I want Doyle back.”
    “No can do.” Lewis shook his head. “He’s with Dagger