In Praise of God, Conrad repeated in English, and pulled it shut.
He climbed down the ladder and dropped down onto the floor of the observation deck. He leaned over Seavers's corpse and saw the twisted smile on his face. He then reached inside Seavers's jacket, removed the Newburgh Treaty, and pocketed it. He was about to pick up the canister of lethal virus when the thunder of boots rumbled up the stairwell and Sergeant Randolph in her flak jacket reached the observation deck.
"Drop the gun!" she shouted. "Hands in the air!"
Behind her popped up two more CPs with M-4s. A dozen more NPS officers clamored up behind them and surrounded him.
Conrad slowly lay the Glock on the floor and put his hands up. His left shoulder blazed with pain.
Sergeant Randolph kicked the gun away.
"Dang, Yeats," she said. "You killed Max Seavers."
"Before he was about to kill millions. That's a canister of bird flu on the floor. He was about to release it over the Mall. You're going to need a Haz-Mat team."
"You're going to need a doctor," she said, looking at his blood-soaked shoulder.
Conrad shook his head. "No time," he said. "Serena. You've got to get me back to her."
"Sister Serghetti?" Sergeant Randolph said. "Don't tell me you dragged her into this, too?"
Minutes later, while fireworks and cannons exploded over the Mall, Conrad and Randolph's R.A.T.S. burst into the secret underground laboratories beneath L'Enfant Plaza and found the Alignment boardroom empty.
Serena was gone.
And so was the terrestrial globe.
The shock of her betrayal stabbed Conrad like a dagger through the heart.