Every Last Breath

by Juno Rushdan

  “Thank you. For having my back, for understanding, for risking your life by helping me with this.”

  “It’s the least I can do. I don’t deserve you. Or a second chance at happiness with you. But I hope one day you’ll forgive me.”

  Her warm hand caressed his cheek. “I forgave you while I was held prisoner in a warehouse, forced to face the truth. It’s foolish to hold on to the pain. We’ve both paid for our mistakes. It’s time to move forward, but…”

  She dropped her hand and lowered her head.

  “There’s something I never told you.” She met his eyes. “I didn’t like going to your house and being around your parents.”

  He blinked, caught completely off guard. “Why? My parents were always nice to you. My mother loved you.”

  “I thought the feel of your house, the atmosphere, would be different from mine, but there was a similar underlying sadness. A heaviness in the air from all the secrets and pretending that everything was normal when it wasn’t. At the time, I didn’t fully understand it, but looking back, I see that our families were two sides of the same coin. I don’t know what a second chance would look like for us. What kind of atmosphere would we create together? We’re not the people we used to be. We’re both a bit damaged.”

  “We have changed, but it’s like time has made us an even better fit for one another.” He took her hand in his. “Some scars don’t go away.” He ran her fingers along the jagged line on his face. “But they can all heal. If our love can survive the last nine years, it can surmount anything.”

  The locker room door creaked open. “They have the threat matrixes loaded,” Harper said. “They’re waiting to go through them with you as soon as you’re ready.”

  “We’ll be right there.” Maddox pulled away, easing to her feet, and went to the bench with the canvas bag. Nodding, Harper left.

  The right words to convince her were lost to him.

  They belonged together, always had, always would. They were inevitable. It was simple to him, but it wouldn’t be that clear-cut to her. For now, they needed to find and stop Novak. He needed to believe that the rest, they’d work through together.

  * * *

  Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

  4:15 p.m. EDT

  Maddox loaded her gun in her shoulder holster, clipping handcuffs and an expandable steel baton to the rig. She stuffed a tube of tear gas gel in her pocket and grabbed the anti-inflammatory pain reliever from the med kit.

  On the way to the conference room, she popped the pills, washing them down with water. She nabbed a seat inside next to Cole and suppressed a sigh of relief as she got off her feet.

  Cole rested a hand on her knee as he inhaled a couple of empanadas.

  Doc hung up the phone in the back of the room and sat. “That was the CDC. An unidentified male with an Eastern European accent called and told them to prepare for large-scale containment of a facility that would soon be attacked by a smallpox weapon. He claims he’ll notify them of the location once it’s too late to stop it.”

  Maddox’s stomach dipped, tension weaving in her chest.

  “Why would he show his hand by contacting the CDC?” Cole sat up in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  “Wouldn’t he want this disease to get out and infect as many people as possible?” Reece asked. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It’s brilliant.” Maddox put her forearms on the table and folded her hands. “Makes perfect sense.”

  Sanborn took a seat at the head of the table. “Enlighten us.”

  “Novak made it clear to me he wants America’s punishment to be slow and drawn out. He said he wanted to rip out the hearts of the citizens by making them watch.” She met the curious gazes around the room. “When terrorists hijacked planes and crashed them into the World Trade Center, it was the worst attack on U.S. soil. The imagery of those planes hitting the buildings played on a loop, devastating us each time we watched.”

  Maddox swallowed back the sorrow that always welled whenever she thought of it.

  “Now imagine a public facility where people have gone for entertainment gets quarantined because of a biological attack. No one in or out except the CDC doctors in hazmat. Smallpox-M takes how long to kill a person?”

  “Five days,” Doc said.

  “Five agonizing days of waiting. News cameras posted out front, headlines about the impending gruesome deaths, with pictures and details of what it’s like to die horribly, not just from smallpox, but from this amped version of smallpox-M. No vaccine. No treatment. No chance for survival. Imagine the footage of body bags coming out, played on a loop for weeks afterward.” Goose bumps raised the hairs on Maddox’s arms.

  “Dear God.” Doc put a hand to her stomach.

  Maddox roped her hair into a ponytail, tugging an elastic band around the damp curls. “That would be the ultimate win for someone like Novak.”

  “A win we’re not going to let him have.” Castle pounded a fist on the table and exchanged a nod with Cole.

  What the hell was that about? They were barely allies and would never be buds.

  “Has the threat matrix been refined?” Maddox asked.

  “Yes.” Harper hit a button bringing up a color-coded matrix. “The charity event at the Hirshhorn Museum is expected to have a hundred and fifty participants. The concert at the National Gallery of Art can seat two hundred and fifty. The show at the Capital One Arena can hold almost twenty thousand. But forty thousand are expected to attend the cinema series at the Washington Convention Center.”

  “Shit.” Reece rocked back in his chair and looked at his watch. “The concert starts in less than two hours, but won’t he go for the larger numbers?”

  Maddox scanned the matrix. “Not necessarily. What do we know about these events?”

  “The Hirshhorn will be a list of who’s who in DC, bringing in big dollars for charity,” Sanborn said.

  Socialites and millionaires. A distinct possibility. “The concert?”

  “Classical music. Local musicians,” Cutter said. “Folks from all backgrounds. It’s free.”

  “It’s still early enough in the day that children could be there.” Maddox took a sip of water. “I don’t think it’s the concert. I think he’ll avoid killing children. Women, too, if possible, but that doesn’t look likely.”

  “The Washington Convention Center will have the biggest draw. What’s playing?” Gideon asked.

  “It’s a marathon of the Jurassic Park films,” Cole said, looking at her. “If you’re right about him, he won’t hit the movie series. Kids and teens will be there in droves.”

  “Are you sure, Maddox?” Sanborn pressed his fingers into a steeple below his chin. “You know what’s at stake.”

  Everyone stared at her, waiting. Nothing was certain. Her heart squeezed. She couldn’t get this wrong. She needed all the pieces in play before she answered. “The show at the Capital One Arena is a comedy act, right?”

  “Comedian Dez Dax is performing at seven,” Harper said.

  Reece hiked an eyebrow. “That’s not a comedy show.”

  “What do you mean?” Maddox folded her hands to keep them from shaking.

  “It’s Dez Dax. Dr. Sex.” Reece swept his hands out dramatically as if she should understand.

  “He used to be a comedian,” Castle said. “Parlayed his skit about how to pick up a woman and have guilt-free sex into motivational speaking gigs for men. He’s crazy popular. Has great advice.” Castle was a womanizer who didn’t like attachments. He certainly didn’t need help in that department.

  “So only men go to his shows?” she asked. This could be it. The break they needed so badly.

  “Smart women would go to hear the techniques this guy espouses,” Cutter said, “so they don’t fall prey to it, but his stuff is geared toward men.”
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br />   “The Ghost was a floater,” Maddox said, thinking out loud, “bouncing from place to place. We have no idea if he knows enough about American culture, much less this Dax guy, to understand the perfection of the target. But a big draw event with no children and practically no women couldn’t get any better for Novak.”

  Cole put a hand on her arm. “There was a big article about Dax in the Washington Post Novak had in his room. It’s going to be a sold-out show. Dax is breaking record numbers, at Madison Square Garden in New York, now here. I’m sure it’s been mentioned on TV too.”

  Her pulse pounded. Novak’s profile pointed to this. But what if she was wrong?

  “Is the show the target, Maddox?” Sanborn folded his arms. “What does your gut say?”

  This fit everything she knew about the Ghost. This event made the most sense. “I think he’ll hit the Dez Dax show. The arena is across the street from the hotel where he was staying, which would explain why he chose the Hotel Monaco. Novak would consider a job clean if it only took out men, but he’d settle for a high percentage.”

  She wished there was a way to confirm they were on the right track.

  Scrubbing her thoughts, she searched for any overlooked details. “When we found Novak at the hotel, he was coming back from somewhere. He’d only leave the hotel for something critical like supplies or to—”

  “Scout the target location,” Castle said, finishing her sentence.

  Maddox nodded. “Is there any way to go back through the surveillance footage around the arena for about two hours before Cole and I arrived at the hotel?”

  Harper smoothed back her bun, even though not a single hair was ever out of place. “I can hack into the digital feed of the arena’s security cameras and play those back.” She was on her feet as she spoke, already moving toward the door.

  “We need to know how to disarm the bioweapon.” Maddox glanced at Reece, hoping she wouldn’t need his demolition skills on this one. “Just in case.”

  “If I can see the wiring and it doesn’t have a bi-layered backup trigger, I can disarm it. No problem.”

  Then why did that sound like it had the potential to be such a huge problem?

  “The CDC has a portable biocontainment receptacle,” Doc said. “But it’s large and heavy and, despite the name, isn’t very portable.”

  “Have the CDC bring it with them and we’ll position you close by,” Sanborn said.

  “Sir.” Maddox looked at Sanborn. “The Capital One Arena is huge. Twenty-five thousand square feet. A lot of terrain for five bodies to cover. We could use Cutter and Amanda out there.” They both had field experience and were qualified with a firearm.

  Sanborn stood, pushing his chair away from the table. “Request granted. Don’t get this wrong. Recover the bioweapon. Capture or kill Novak and his son.” His voice was gritty and raw and carried the force of a hammer. “And when this is over”—he pointed a stern finger between Castle and Maddox—“we’re going to have a come-to-Jesus heart-to-heart.”

  “Roger that, sir.” Castle rocked back in his chair, shoulders relaxed, his face the epitome of picture-perfect calm.

  Sanborn clenched his jaw. His otherwise smooth aplomb remained intact as he strode out of the room. He had the power to tank their careers, but there was no way around pissing him off at this stage. They couldn’t run the risk of tipping their hand to anyone that they knew about the mole. Not until Novak was in custody and singing like a canary about his expensive, powerful broker friend and all his little birdies.

  Maddox looked around the room. “Tonight, we don’t stop until we have Novak.”

  “Hooah,” Reece said, letting the Army Delta in him show.

  Standing, Gideon threw a stick of gum in his mouth. “Let’s go catch a ghost.”

  Chapter 32

  Capital Park Hotel, Washington, DC

  6:30 p.m. EDT

  Aleksander dabbed the spirit gum—a special adhesive for skin—on his eyebrows, cheeks, and chin. One strip at a time, he applied the false facial hair, transforming his brows into bushy black caterpillars. He layered thinner pieces on his jaw for the appearance of a beard.

  With the dark, shaggy wig, he was a different man in the mirror. He buttoned his white shirt and took the press credentials from the bathroom sink, slipping one of the badges that’d get him and Val entry to the building around his neck.

  He passed Val in the bedroom suite. His son flowed through his dance of tai chi poses, honed muscle flexing beneath taut skin.

  Focused. Disciplined.

  The watch with the hidden garrote looked good on Val’s wrist. As if it belonged.

  Aleksander double-checked the canister he’d tucked inside the professional television video camera. Both the media passes and camera had come from his contact at the TV station. Such credentials had come in handy in the past, providing access to almost anywhere. The inside of the camera was the perfect concealment for a gun, but rather than stowing a firearm, he’d had Val adjust the interior to store the bioweapon.

  He strolled to the window and put in his earbuds.

  Played Berlioz. Symphonie Fantastique.

  Nonstop traffic flurried across the streets. Preoccupied people absorbed in their shallow lives packed the sidewalks like mice in a barrel. The frenetic pace of the city energized him. Or it was the booster from the medicine fortifying his bones, charging his system to a razor’s edge.

  He felt invincible.

  Would be nice to see the Gray Box giving their last-ditch effort to find Agent Kinkade. Or to have one more update from the broker, but twelve hours from go time, he always went dark and terminated communications.

  The Capital One Arena was a mere four-minute walk. This city offered many tempting targets, but the death toll of women and children at most exceeded his stomach-churning threshold. The success of this Dez Dax and his sold-out show in New York City had been splashed across the newspaper on the flight from England. Nothing personal against Dez Dax, but reading about him again in the entertainment section of the Washington Post cemented the target. As close to perfection as possible.

  Tomorrow, he would lay Levik to rest. Val planned to buy a boat and do some sailing. His son loved the ocean. With his demon gone, Aleksander would quietly retire in the Seychelles. Sonia had wanted to honeymoon there, but they couldn’t afford it on his military salary. He would’ve loved to have shown her the islands. Just once.

  He wished he had a picture of his beautiful ladies. In this business, such personal items were a liability, but he wanted to see his Sonia and Mila as they’d once been. Happy and smiling.

  Instead, he was cursed to see them lying on the ground in an assembly line of carnage. Easier for family members to identify their dead. Dismembered limbs set in a pile.

  He’d sworn an oath to his family, and shortly, he’d make good on it. With those agents out of the way, how could he possibly fail?

  Chapter 33

  Capital One Arena, Washington, DC

  7:00 p.m. EDT

  The playback of the security feed at the Capital One Arena confirmed Novak’s survey of the location. It was possible the Ghost might’ve scoped out more than one place for the bio attack, lining up the arena as a backup. The city was ripe with potential targets, but Sanborn agreed the video combined with Maddox’s hunch about the demographics at the Dez Dax show was a solid lead.

  Doors opened to the general public one hour prior to the seven o’clock show time. With four entrances to the Capital One Arena, Maddox had assigned Castle, Gideon, Amanda, and Cutter to cover them. Doc was positioned in an unmarked van with a CDC unit and the biocontainment receptacle—a three-hundred-pound, hermetically sealed container that resembled a safe.

  The rest of the team had taken point inside an hour ago. In coordination with arena security, they’d have eyes on everyone entering the facility.

 
Cole and Reece gathered around Maddox in a corner to the side, out of the way of the horde of men pouring into the entertainment center. She pulled a cap down over her hair. “Remember, I want Novak and his son alive,” she said over comms to the entire team, with headquarters tuned in, not wanting to elaborate over the open channel, since someone listening was their mole.

  Once they contained the bioweapon, they would clean house. Novak and his son were the only ones who could steer them in the right direction of the leak in the Gray Box.

  She looked at Reece. “The ventilation system is the easiest way to disperse the weapon throughout the facility. Find someone in maintenance. Make sure access stays locked down.”

  “Will do.” Reece took off.

  She folded her arms and faced Cole, bracing for an argument. “We should split up to cover more ground.”

  “You know what I’m going to say. Let’s not bother fighting. I stay with you.”

  With her injured feet and Novak having gotten the drop on her not once but twice already, she was in no position to gripe. They moved deeper into the arena by the concession stands in a spot with the best vantage point of the elevator and stairs, keeping their backs to the wall.

  She didn’t limp, but her gait was unnatural. Soreness raked her swollen feet with each step. She should’ve seen if Doc had anything to numb the bottoms of her soles.

  Cole took a position within arm’s reach, the side of his face with the scar obscured by a vendor display and the communications earpiece Sanborn had authorized concealed by his hair.

  The place teemed with men from early twenties to midforties, even a few who looked eligible for an AARP membership. The crowd’s kinetic energy grated on her senses. The noisy frat boy environment, rife with the odor of beer and greasy junk food, was right up Castle’s alley.

  She scanned her sector to the right while Cole surveilled left.