“Are his parents still alive?”
“His father died in an earthquake when he was twelve. His mother was injured in the same quake but lived another three years.”
“He has two surviving siblings?”
“One. Another brother died eight years ago. His sister Maria has been married to General Pedro Carmindar for five years. She's twenty-one and he's sixty-nine. Esteban introduced them while he was working under Carmindar.”
“Did you try to contact her?”
“She wouldn't talk to anyone about Esteban. She's a scared little rabbit.”
“Which probably keeps her alive.”
“Do you want to try to use her?” Yael asked.
“Against Esteban?” Kaldak shook his head. “No ammunition there. Besides, she's survived this long. It would be a pity to rock her boat now.”
“My God, do I actually hear a note of compassion? You must be getting soft, Kaldak.” He turned to Bess. “No wonder he doesn't intimidate you. He's becoming a wuss.”
“I wouldn't say that,” she said dryly. “Now, if you're finished, I'll go make your coffee.”
He held up his hand, palm forward. “I swear.”
She went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet door.
Flesh-devouring rats . . . The image was terrifying, but the thought of a little boy committing fratricide was even more frightening. Cause and effect.
So that was how monsters were created.
“She seems to be taking it well.” Yael's gaze was on the kitchen door through which Bess had disappeared. “Tough lady?”
“Sometimes,” Kaldak said. “She's definitely a survivor.”
“Not if she stays here.”
“She won't leave.”
“And you won't let Ramsey have his way.”
“By God, I won't treat her like an animal,” he said harshly. “She deserves better.”
Yael's lips pursed in a soundless whistle. “You appear to have a problem. You're going to have a hell of a time keeping Ramsey from taking her.”
“Do you think I don't know that? Ramsey's almost as big a threat as De Salmo. That's why I wanted you here.” He paused. “I may have to leave her for periods of time. I need her protected.”
“She's valuable. Ramsey will see to it.”
“I don't trust Ramsey to do it right. All he's concerned about is making sure she's available to the CDC. I trust you.”
Yael shook his head. “That's not why I was sent here. I have a job to do.”
“Your job is Esteban. Esteban may come here.”
“And he may not.”
“She's the key. Even if we get Esteban and Habin, who's to say that someone else won't get hold of that mutated anthrax? She has to stay alive until we find a cure. You know damn well that your government is scared to death of that anthrax.”
Yael nodded slowly. “Good argument.”
“Good enough?”
“I'll stay around . . . for a while.”
Kaldak felt a rush of relief.
“You like her.” Yael was studying his expression. “It's not just that she's our ticket out of this mess.”
“She didn't deserve this.”
“Innocent bystanders get in the way, and things happen.”
“She's had enough. I want her safe.”
“Coffee.” Bess entered carrying a tray. She frowned as she noticed the sudden silence. “You've been talking.”
“Nothing you would have found interesting,” Yael said. “I've just convinced Kaldak that since he's become a wuss, he's inadequate to the task of guarding you. Would you mind if I help him on occasion?”
“Not at all.” She put the tray down on the table and poured coffee. “But it seems a pretty thankless job. He tells me I'm not safe even here.” She shot Kaldak a look. “And he refuses to protect me from snakes in my shower drain. So what good is he?”
“Ah, yes, the old black-mamba-in-the-drain trick,” Yael said solemnly as he reached for his cup. “I'm very good at taking care of that. Amazing what you can learn from watching James Bond movies.”
“There are only two cups.” Kaldak pointed.
“I don't want any coffee.” She started across the room. “I'm going to my darkroom and develop the roll of film I took this afternoon.” She raised her eyebrows. “Unless you want to check for a mamba in the drain.”
“You do it yourself,” Kaldak said evenly. “And if you find one, call for Yael.”
The red glow of the darkroom light made the faces in the prints seem strange and sinister.
There were pictures of clowns and musicians and tourists. She had taken similar photographs in the French Quarter hundreds of times before and they hadn't made her uneasy.
But then one of these faces might belong to her murderer.
One of these faces might have watched her bury her sister that day.
Her eyes were suddenly burning with tears.
Shit. She had been fine, almost normal, and then the memory of Emily had come out of nowhere and ambushed her. Would it always be this way?
“What was the hurry?” Kaldak asked when she came out of the darkroom twenty minutes later. “What did you think was on that film?”
“Probably nothing. I don't like undeveloped film. I'm always afraid something is going to happen to it.”
“Like Danzar?”
She nodded and glanced around the apartment. “Where's Yael?”
“He went to see if he could locate an apartment nearby.”
“It's not likely with Mardi Gras so close.”
“But Yael is very persuasive.”
“Like you.”
He shook his head. “Yael and I are nothing alike. He has a much more accepting and gentle nature.”
“Accepting?”
“His wife got on the wrong bus in Tel Aviv twelve years ago. She was going to visit her mother. It blew up before she got there. Palestinian terrorists.”
“Terrible.”
“Another innocent bystander. But the world seems to target innocent bystanders these days. They're easier to kill.” He shrugged. “Yael was able to let it go. He married again six years ago. He has a son now.”
“I like him.”
“So do I.” He looked at her. “But it didn't keep me from putting him between you and Esteban.”
His sudden intensity made her uneasy. “Because of the blood samples.”
“Sure.” He glanced away from her. “Because of the blood.”
Her uneasiness was increasing. “I'm going to bed. It's been a long day. I'd like to call Dr. Kenwood first. Could I use your portable phone?”
He handed it to her. “Let me know if there's a problem with her, okay?”
She nodded and started for the bedroom. She hoped there was no problem with Josie. Everything else was going wrong. Please, God, just let this one thing go right. She stopped at the door. “Do you need to take a sample tonight?”
“No. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Well, if you change your mind, let me––”
“I told you, I don't need it, dammit.”
She threw up her hands in self-defense. “Okay. Okay.” She closed the door behind her, shutting him out. All she needed now was an edgy Kaldak barking at her. She dug in her purse, got Dr. Kenwood's number, and quickly dialed it.
Ten minutes later she returned the phone to Kaldak. “I couldn't reach Dr. Kenwood, but I spoke to the head nurse. Josie's doing fine.”
“Good. Now, where are those pictures you developed?”
“Still in the darkroom. Why?”
“I thought I'd study them and see if I recognize anyone.”
“Do you think you might?”
“We assassins belong to a small and select group. There's a chance.”
“Don't be stupid. You're not . . . like them.”
“You're mistaken. Ask Ramsey. He trained me for eight long months to make sure I was a very good assassin.” He moved toward the darkroom. “Go to bed. I promise I won't distu
rb anything.”
“Why did he train you?”
“Because I asked him to do it.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters.” She wasn't sure why, but it mattered very much to her. “He mentioned––” She searched her memory. “Nakoa. What's Nakoa?”
He was silent for a moment and she didn't think he was going to answer. But then he spoke. “Nakoa was another Tenajo. It was a U.S. biological research facility on a tiny island in the South Pacific whose purpose was to develop vaccines against possible germ warfare attack weapons. A rare bacteria escaped from one of the level 4 laboratories.” His face was without expression. “Everyone died. No survivors.”
She stared at him, sick. “Everyone?”
He nodded. “The bacteria entered the central air-conditioning system of the complex that serviced both the laboratories and private quarters of the scientists who worked there. Forty-three men, women, and children.”
“And Esteban had something to do with it?”
“Oh, yes. We didn't know who was responsible at the time but we found out later that Esteban had one of the scientists on the island in his pay. Jennings smuggled out various bacteria to Esteban, who then sold them to Saddam Hussein. But Ramsey started sniffing out what was going on, so Esteban needed to destroy evidence and stop the investigation in its tracks. Jennings planted the bacteria before he took off and went into hiding. It was too dangerous for Ramsey to send anyone to the island to continue the investigation. Nakoa will be a wasteland for the next fifty years.”
Men, women, children––they all died because of Esteban. “Why didn't I ever hear about it?”
“We covered it up. It wasn't too difficult. It was a top secret installation and nobody wanted to admit it existed anyway.”
“A cover-up?”
“You're horrified? I know how you hate them. But I'd do it again. We didn't know who was responsible and we had to find out. It took me three years to make the connection to Esteban. I tracked Jennings until I found him in Libya. Before he died he led me to Esteban and Habin.”
“Were you one of those scientists who worked on Nakoa?”
“Yes.”
“But you lived.”
“I was in Washington, giving a report. It was all over by the time I got back. Ramsey met me in Tahiti to break the news.”
His voice was level, without emotion. He might have been talking about the stock report, but the indifference was a lie. She knew him better than that now. “I'm sorry.”
“You don't have to be sorry. It was a long time ago. I was a different man.”
“Bullshit.”
He smiled faintly. “You don't believe me?”
“I believe you protect yourself by denial just like the rest of us.”
“Maybe you're right,” he said wearily. “I know it's getting harder all the time to know what's right and what's wrong. It used to be much simpler. Getting Esteban was right. Everything else was wrong.” He looked into her eyes. “And that's the way you feel now, isn't it?”
“Yes, that's the way I feel.”
“Let me give you a hypothetical question. If, in order to kill Esteban, Josie has to die too, would you let it happen?”
“Don't be crazy. You know I wouldn't.”
“Then you're not nearly as bad as I was. At one time I would have let anyone on earth die to make sure I got Esteban.”
She shook her head. “No, you wouldn't.”
“Your faith is touching but misplaced. First, I was the devil incarnate and now––”
“Good God, I'm not saying you're an angel. You're just not a monster. And neither am I. Esteban is the monster.”
“I hope you're right.”
“Count on it.”
She strode to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She needed to shower and go to bed and close out everything. She hadn't needed Kaldak's story to cap off this horror of a day. But she had asked for it. No, she had demanded it. She had needed to know. Why had it been so important to her?
Probably simple curiosity. Kaldak was an important and integral part of her life just then. He was helping to keep her alive. Surely it was natural for her to want to know what made him tick.
Kaldak spread the photographs out on the table.
It was like trying to identify somebody at a masquerade ball.
A clown in full makeup, the musician with the wig and fiddle, the old bag lady with the thick veil. Even one of the teenagers was wearing a Darth Vader mask.
It could be one of them or none of them. How the hell was he to know?
Study them. A body position, an expression might trigger a fleeting memory.
He sat down at the table and began to study the pictures.
CDC, Atlanta
“Go take a nap, Ed.”
Ed Katz looked up to see Donovan standing beside him. “I will. I just want to run one more test. I don't know what the hell is wrong. The anthrax should be overwhelmed by those antibodies, but it's not.”
“You said the first test was promising.”
He nodded. “But the second showed mega resistance.”
“Let me run the test for you. You haven't had any sleep for the last twenty-four hours. What good's a team if you don't use the teammates?”
“Soon.”
“Marta called and told me to make you eat and rest. Do you want to get me in her bad graces?” Donovan glanced down at Ed's microscope. “And I have to admit I want to get my hands on this baby. It's interesting that they used cash to deliver the bacteria.”
Interesting. Donovan was always objective. Ed had been like that once. Science for science's sake. It was a comfortable way to work. That comfort had gone down the drain when he'd been sent out in the field during those first years of HIV research. He had learned to put faces and voices to the death statistics. HIV had seemed to be everywhere. Those babies infected by an untested blood supply had nearly destroyed him. He and Marta had been trying to have a child for the last nine years and he had felt the pain of the parents of those babies. “Yeah, very interesting. How would you like a few of those twenties stuffed in your pay envelope?”
“Hey, don't give me a hard time just because you're beat. I didn't mutate this anthrax.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be. Call me if you need me.” Donovan walked away.
Ed shouldn't have barked like that. Donovan was a good guy. He couldn't help being what he was. Ed was just frustrated because of the lack of progress.
No, because he was scared. What if the antibodies didn't work and this mutated strain had no cure? What if this was the Big One? Ever since HIV had appeared, he'd had nightmares about the Big One, the virus or bacteria that couldn't be stopped. Someday it would rear its ugly head in some rain forest or genetics lab. It was only a matter of time. It was out there somewhere.
He just hoped to hell it wasn't on this slide in front of him.
Thirteen
“Esteban went to Cheyenne. Perez said he got a call from Morrisey before he took off,” Ramsey told Kaldak on the phone the next morning. “I've sent two extra agents to Cheyenne to see if they can track him down.”
Morrisey again. “I doubt if Esteban's still there. He would never have left a loose thread like Perez hanging if he'd thought Perez could hurt him. Have you found out anything new about Morrisey?”
“We traced one of the calls he made five days ago to a motel in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. We sent an agent to see what we could find out and we got lucky. Morrisey charged the room to a credit card. We may be able to monitor his future actions.”
“You weren't able to trace that last call?”
“No, it was on the portable.”
Brick wall. Esteban was moving and they couldn't even find Morrisey.
“What do you hear from the CDC?” Ramsey asked.
“Progress.”
“That's not enough. The only thing that may save our ass is an antidote. She should be
made available to them.”
“She is available to them. I'm sending them a sample every day.”
“Which will stop if you get her killed. She was out on the street yesterday, for God's sake.”
“And she'll be out today.”
“How long do you think I'll permit this, Kaldak? She's too valuable for you to––”
“Call me when you hear about Morrisey.” Kaldak hung up the phone.
“Morrisey?” Bess was standing in the doorway.
“Esteban took off after receiving a call from him. The last report we have is that he went to Cheyenne.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
“He won't be there any longer. Our best bet is finding Morrisey and squeezing the information out of him.”
“If he knows anything. You said Esteban seldom confided anything to anyone.”
“Morrisey knows the job he was given. That's a start.”
“Did you recognize anyone in those photos?”
He shook his head.
“Then I'm going to go out and take more.”
“It may not do any good.”
“And it may.” She grimaced. “At least, I'll feel like I'm doing something. I hate just marking time.”
“You don't find being bait entertaining? Ramsey's very interested in the entire process. He wants to put you in a nice sterile cell and throw away the key.”
“Screw Ramsey.”
“My thought exactly.” He stood up. “Twenty minutes. You show yourself, you take a few photos, and then we come back.”
“And I make sure that no one brushes against me.”
“I'm not as worried about close quarters now that I know it's De Salmo. He prefers a knife or a gun, and a gun isn't subtle enough in these circumstances. I'd bet on the knife.”
“How reassuring.” She moved toward the darkroom. “I'm glad you're not worried. I'll be right back. I need to get more film.”
Oh, no, he wasn't worried. He was terrified and had been every second of that trip to the camera store the previous day. He didn't know how much longer he could go on with this.
And Then You Die Page 16