by Robin Cook
“They are very crazy and selfish people,” Yuri said.
“I got that impression,” Jack said.
“And they have a lot of guns and they like to use them.”
“That was apparent as well.”
“So my advice when you hear them is to be silent,” Yuri said. “Does that make sense to you?”
“I suppose,” Jack said. “But what was this talk about helping you?”
“Tomorrow morning the People’s Aryan Army and myself are scheduled to release bioweapons in Manhattan,” Yuri said. “This is not an idle threat. I have produced many pounds of potent, weaponized anthrax right here in this laboratory. I assume you doctors guessed that this was a laboratory.”
“We had a sneaking suspicion,” Jack admitted. “Especially since this looks like we’re in a microbiological storeroom at the moment.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Yuri said. “Now, what I want you two to do to help is merely to make sure I get the credit for what’s going to happen tomorrow.”
Yuri waited for a response. Instead he heard Jack and Laurie whispering.
“Did you hear me?” Yuri asked.
“We were wondering if you produced botulinum toxin as well as anthrax?” Jack asked.
“I tried to,” Yuri admitted. “But the culture grew too slowly to make enough toxin quickly enough for a bioweapon.”
“What happened to the culture?” Jack asked. “Did it just go down the drain?”
“What happened to the clostridial culture is not important,” Yuri said. “What is going to happen with the anthrax tomorrow is.”
“We agree fully,” Jack said. “And we’ll make certain you get all the credit you deserve.”
“Just to be absolutely sure, I want to tell you in detail what is planned for tomorrow,” Yuri said. “That will make you extraordinarily credible witnesses for me.”
“We’re all ears,” Jack said.
“If the People’s Aryan Army arrives I will have to interrupt,” Yuri said.
“We’ll try to deal with the suspense,” Jack said. “Let’s hear it.”
Yuri told Jack and Laurie the details of both laydowns, including the timing and the exact way Curt and Steve planned on getting the powder into the air-conditioning system of the Jacob Javits building. He told them how the firemen intended to shut down the annunciator panel for the entire building after they’d planted the material so that the powder would not set off the smoke detectors. He then went on to tell about how he was going to drive around Central Park at the same time in the stolen pest control truck. He finished by giving an estimate of the casualties from his plan, which he thought would be a million dead, give or take a couple hundred thousand. He said he expected the anthrax to spread out in an expanding arc at least fifty miles over Long Island. The only thing he didn’t explain was his plans after the laydown.
“Where did you get this expertise?” Jack asked after a moment of awed silence.
“Are you really interested?” Yuri asked. He was flattered.
“As I said, we’re all ears,” Jack commented.
_____________
TWENTY-TWO
Wednesday, October 20
11:15 P.M.
Curt nosed the Dodge Ram into Oceanview Lane and navigated past the inevitable trash barrels.
“Why the hell don’t these people take these cans inside?” Curt complained.
“I wish I knew,” Steve said. “Hell, I’m not going to miss coming over here. What a shithole.”
Curt pulled to a stop in front of Yuri’s garage, where he’d parked on the previous visits. He turned off the lights and the engine.
“He better have the stuff ready for us,” Curt said. “Especially now that we have everything in place. We’ve lucked out having the captain on vacation. Your idea about us going in and telling him we were quitting after the event was the only part of the getaway I didn’t like. I don’t mind talking to the deputy. The guy’s a nerd.”
“Everything’s falling into place,” Steve agreed. “This time tomorrow we’ll be watching chaos in New York City on television from western Pennsylvania.”
“How many of those little timed detonators did you get?”
“A dozen,” Steve said. “Just to be sure.”
“You got your gun?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s go!” As Curt got out of the truck he grabbed the black rubberized canvas rabbit tool bag he’d brought from the firehouse. He’d checked its interior carefully for sharp edges or points. With the rabbit tool gone, there wasn’t anything in the bag sharp enough to puncture the sausages.
They walked in silence. When they reached the front door, Curt knocked. While they waited they both did a little two-step against the cold. With the clear sky, the temperature had plummeted, yet both were in T-shirts. Their guns were in holsters tucked into the small of their backs.
“What the hell?” Curt questioned when Yuri failed to appear. He pulled open the broken screen door and pounded on the inner door with his free hand. He looked at Steve. “If he’s not here I’m going ...”
Yuri yanked open the door. “Sorry,” he said out of breath. “I was downstairs.”
Curt gave him a glare before stepping inside. Steve followed. Yuri closed and locked the door.
“Is it ready?” Curt demanded.
Yuri pointed toward the kitchen table. “It’s waiting for you. But first how about a toast?”
“Why not?” Curt said.
Yuri eagerly went into the kitchen and got the vodka from the freezer. Curt followed and looked down at the plastic sausages.
“How much is here?” Curt asked.
“Five pounds,” Yuri said while he got out three glasses.
“Are these the directions I asked for?” Curt questioned. He picked up the thick envelope and held it aloft.
“Yes,” Yuri said as he walked out into the living room. “And I included some suggestions of what you might do after your laydown for your own protection. Just a few helpful pointers.”
“Good,” Curt responded. He put the envelope and the canvas rabbit tool bag on the table and joined the others.
Yuri poured out hefty dollops in each glass. He then handed them out and took one himself. He raised it toward the firemen. “To Operation Wolverine,” he said.
Both Steve and Curt nodded. All three clicked glasses and then took swigs. Curt and Steve both sucked in some air after swallowing. As beer drinkers, they weren’t accustomed to such strong liquor.
“How did the Jack Stapleton chase end up?” Yuri asked loudly. “I can tell you, the first part was exciting.”
Curt and Steve exchanged glances. “Not so good,” Curt admitted. “We lost him in the park. So it’s a good thing that we’ve decided to move the operation up to tomorrow.”
“You are all prepared?” Yuri asked.
“We’re ready,” Steve said. “We expect the false alarm to sound at about nine-twenty-five. That would mean we’d be going in on the target at just about nine-thirty.”
“I’ll be ready to start at nine-thirty as well,” Yuri said. “Let’s have another toast.”
They touched glasses and drank again.
Curt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We had a thought on the way over here,” he said. “Maybe it would be best if we used all the anthrax for the federal building and just forget the park.”
Yuri shook his head. “No, I want to do the park.”
“What if we insisted,” Curt said. He took a sip of his drink and eyed the Russian.
Yuri looked back and forth between the two firemen. “It would be too late to insist,” he said. “The pest control truck is already loaded with the other five pounds.”
“What about unloading it?” Curt asked.
“I can’t do that,” Yuri said. “The anthrax is loose in the hopper. I had to take the hopper off and load it down in the laboratory in the hazmat suit.”
“It’s not in plastic like ours
?” Curt asked.
“No,” Yuri said. “The agitator action wouldn’t be strong enough to break the plastic.”
Curt nodded. “Well, it was just an idea.” He put his unfinished glass down on the coffee table. “Let’s load up so we can be on our way. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
The three men walked into the kitchen. While Yuri went over to the countertop to get the towel, Curt and Steve bent over the plastic sausages. Neither dared to touch them, knowing what was inside.
“You’re sure these things are safe?” Curt questioned.
“As long as you don’t break the seal,” Yuri said. He reached over and picked one of them up.
Curt and Steve reflexively stepped back.
“The outside has been thoroughly decontaminated,” Yuri assured them. “And it’s been heat-sealed to be completely airtight.” He extended the sausage toward Curt, but Curt pointed to Steve to take it.
Steve put out his hand. It was trembling slightly. Yuri laid the plastic sausage on his palm so that the ends hung down. It was about ten inches long.
“How many people could this amount of anthrax kill?” Steve asked. He hefted the object to appreciate its weight.
“A couple hundred thousand,” Yuri said, “provided it was dispersed properly.”
“The fed building’s circulatory fans are going to disperse it fine,” Curt said. He grabbed the canvas bag and opened the top. “Let’s get the stuff packed up.”
Yuri handed Curt the towel. He used it as a lining for the bag. Once it was in place he had Steve reach in with the sausage he had in his hand. Curt gingerly picked up another and carefully placed it next to the first.
“You don’t have to be that careful,” Yuri said. “The plastic is surprisingly tough. There’s no way you could tear it with your hands.”
Encouraged, Curt picked up the other three sausages in turn and put them in the bag. He put the envelope in on top. Then he handed the bag to Steve.
“I guess that’s it,” Curt said to Yuri.
“Good luck,” Yuri said.
Curt started to turn, but as he did so, he drew his Glock from behind his back. In a quick smooth motion he whipped the gun around and pointed it at Yuri. Yuri’s eyes opened wide and his mouth went slack.
Curt pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Yuri in the middle of the forehead just above the eyebrows. Blood and bits of gore sprayed back and splattered against the refrigerator. Yuri collapsed, as if his legs had been taken out from under him.
“Jesus Christ!” Steve shouted in consternation. “What the hell did you shoot him for?”
Curt thrust his gun back into his holster. He nudged Yuri with his foot. He was still technically alive, although barely. With the gurgling noises he was making, it was apparent to Curt that Yuri’s end was near.
“I thought we were going to have the troops come back here later,” Steve cried. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to shoot him.”
“Are you going soft on me?” Curt demanded. He glared at Steve.
“Shit, no,” Steve said. “But you could have let me know you were planning on doing something like this. It scared the hell out of me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Curt snarled. “But the bastard pissed me off with the way he was acting. Did you hear the way he said it was too late to insist when we were talking about taking the anthrax out of the duster? It was like he was giving us orders. The irony is that I was trying to give him a chance. Hell, if he’d thrown in with us on the proper target and not this stupid, senseless terrorist stuff, I wouldn’t have done him in at all.”
Steve put down the canvas bag and went back to the coffee table. He picked up his glass and took a generous swallow of the cold vodka. He shuddered. “I just wish you’d clue me in ahead of time about what you’re thinking.”
“Come on, you pansy!” Curt said. “Get the bag! Let’s get out of here.”
_______________
TWENTY-THREE
Wednesday, October 20
11:50 P.M.
“Do you think they’re gone?” Jack whispered.
“I think so,” Laurie whispered in reply. “I believe I heard an outside screen door slam over the sound of the fan ten minutes or so ago.”
Jack and Laurie were enveloped in utter darkness in the storeroom. When Yuri had gone upstairs he’d switched off the basement lights, which had also shut down the lights in the storeroom. For the entire time the People’s Aryan Army had been there, the two imprisoned medical examiners had stayed frozen in their respective spots, afraid even to breathe. In the strained silence both had been violently startled by the sudden sound of the gunshot. Up until then they’d heard bits and pieces of the conversation through the thin floorboards and its linoleum covering.
“I’m afraid our favorite Russian got shot,” Jack said in a more normal voice. He was still afraid to move or make much noise in case the People’s Aryan Army’s departure had been a ruse.
“I’m afraid so, too,” Laurie said. “I could tell he didn’t trust whoever it was who was coming to visit him.”
“I think it was the same men who’d come after me,” Jack said. “My apologies to Paul. This whole mess is a lot bigger than Paul’s being angry at me. I’m afraid I was guilty of jumping to conclusions.”
“Maybe so,” Laurie said. “But for the moment it doesn’t much matter. What are we going to do?”
“Try to get out, I guess,” Jack said. “But I don’t have a lot of confidence. Did you happen to notice the door? It’s three-quarter-inch plywood reinforced with steel.”
Laurie shuddered in the darkness. “I don’t like being shut in here like this. It reminds me of all the terrible things that happened in connection with that series of drug overdoses I had to handle back in 1992.”
“Come on, now!” Jack said. “I’m a bit claustrophobic myself, but this is nowhere near as bad as getting nailed into a coffin.”
“It’s a pretty close second,” Laurie said. “And do you smell that fermentation odor along with the bleach?”
“I do,” Jack said. “There must be a fermenter down here with a sizable, active culture of anthrax. Today when I walked around this house I saw a vent and heard a large circulating fan. I could kick myself for not guessing what it meant. I thought it was from a furnace, for crissake.”
“This setup is the product of someone who knew what he was doing,” Laurie said.
“Unfortunately, that’s true,” Jack said. “And that’s what makes this threat tomorrow so very real. Bioterrorism briefly went through my mind with the Papparis case until a plausible source became evident. Even then it bothered me, because it was so convenient. I could kick myself again for having been so complacent and not more suspicious.”
“You can’t fault yourself,” Laurie said. “After all, you did call the city epidemiologist. It was his job to do the follow-up.”
“That’s true, I guess,” Jack said without much enthusiasm. “It’s also true I called the director of the Mayor’s Office of
Emergency Management, but it doesn’t make me feel much better.”
“What was his name?” Laurie asked. “He was the one who gave us the lecture on bioterrorism.”
“Stan Thornton,” Jack said.
“Right,” Laurie said. “That was a disturbing lecture.”
A short period of silence ensued. The two people felt confident enough to adjust their weight. They were both leaning against the concrete foundation wall and hadn’t moved a muscle since the PAA’s arrival.
“Oh, God!” Laurie exclaimed, breaking the lull. She shuddered again. “I can’t believe we’re having this relatively normal conversation locked in this dark, tiny dungeon knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow in the Jacob Javits Federal Building. I wish to hell I’d brought my phone in here with us.” Laurie had left her purse locked in the glove compartment of Warren’s car, believing that carrying it would have made her appear unprofessional.
“That would have simplif
ied things,” Jack agreed. “But I think Yuri would have taken it away if you’d had it. He seemed to know what he was doing. I’ve got a tiny flashlight on my key chain. I’m going to turn it on.”
“Please do,” Laurie said.
The meager cone of light barely lit up a corner of the room. Laurie’s troubled face came into view. She was hugging herself as if to ward off the cold.
“Are you all right?” Jack asked now that he could see her anguish.
“I’m hanging in,” Laurie said.
Jack moved the small beam around the room. He stopped on the bottles of distilled water and moved them to a convenient location where they’d be able to find them easily later in the dark. “We might need these,” Jack said. “I don’t like to be pessimistic, but we could be in here for some time.”
“That’s a happy thought,” Laurie said. She laughed mirthlessly.
The light played against the door. Since the door opened out, the hinges were on the other side. Jack felt around the door frame.
“Do you think it is okay for us to make noise?” Jack asked.
“If the neighbors might hear, we should make as much noise as possible,” Laurie said.
“I was thinking about the People’s Aryan Army,” Jack said.
“I think they’re long gone,” Laurie said. “They got what they came here for, and they’re probably busy with tomorrow’s plans to assault lower Manhattan.”
“You’re probably right,” Jack said. “There certainly was no reason for them to be suspicious we were here.”
Using the heel of his hand Jack pounded the jamb around the door, probing for any sign of weakness. Unfortunately, it was all very solid. He put his shoulder to the door, backed up a pace, and then rammed it. He did it several times, each time upping the force with which he hit. The door didn’t budge.
“So much for the door,” he said. He turned the light to shine against the whitewashed concrete walls. He tapped them lightly with his knuckles in various locations, searching for evidence of deterioration. The walls were sound.
“I’m surprised this house has this kind of solid foundation,” Jack said. “Looking at it from outside, it appears so flimsy.”