“Ron,” Jordan asked, “I understand Chef Hershoff was the first to arrive this morning.”
“That’s right,” Perkins said. “Got here at four this morning, which for him is the norm. He opens the kitchen by five and has breakfast ready for the Rosenfeld’s by six. The couple always kept to the same routine.”
“He found the front door open when he arrived?”
Perkins nodded. “And the alarm off. When he stepped inside, he saw the roses laying on the floor and the glow from the votives upstairs. When he called out and didn’t get a response, he knew something was wrong. He got scared, ran out of the house, and called 9-1-1. When LAPD arrived and saw the scene, they thought it might be our guy. They called us right away.”
“Did your guys find anything when you processed Hershoff?”
“Just a few crystal shards stuck to the soles of his shoes which he picked up when he stepped through the front door. Besides that, he was clean.”
“And no other staff were on duty at the time?
“None,” Perkins said. According to Hershoff, the Rosenfeld’s had strict rules when it came to their privacy. Unless they were hosting an event, no staff were to be on site after nine p.m. We allowed the maids, groundskeepers, and the Rosenfeld’s personal driver through the barricade earlier. Needless to say, they’re all pretty shook up. We’re taking their statements in Mobile Command right now.”
“So we have nothing to work with... again.”
“Like Chris said, this guy’s a ghost.”
Agent Hawkins burst through the doorway, took a second to catch his breath, then spoke to Jordan and Chris. “Reynolds needs to see you in the MCU right away.”
“He found something?” Jordan asked.
Hawkin’s nodded. “The flash drive,” he said. “You’re not going to believe what’s on it.”
68
“SON, STOP STARING at my credentials and open the goddamn gate!”
Colonel Quentin Hallier snatched his identification card out of the guard’s hand and inched his car towards the too slow to open security gate. Clear of the barrier, he accelerated up the winding driveway of Dynamic Life Sciences as department heads quickly marshaled scientists and staff out of the building to designated EVACUATION stations.
Hallier screeched the car to a halt at the main entrance to the facility, stepped out of the vehicle, slammed the door, adjusted his tie, snapped his waistcoat taught and grumbled a slew of obscenities under his breath. Battle-proven and tasked with moving forward the most top-secret military science projects of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, otherwise known as DARPA, Colonel Hallier was not accustomed to exchanging pleasantries. At six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty pounds he was an imposing presence who projected a don’t-even-think-of-screwing-with-me bravado and a pot-boiling temper which seemed permanently set on simmer.
Hallier marched through the doorway and straight past Dr. Sook Han where he was met by a four-man armed security detail. “Talk to me, doctor,” he said. “Tell me what you know.”
Dr. Han hurried after the Colonel. The empty facility was quiet except for the echoing footfalls of the six men as they walked down the corridor toward the wing marked LABS.
“Shortly after eleven A.M. this morning,” Han said, “a biohazard alarm was activated in the ANNBIC lab.”
Hallier shot him a glance. “I don’t speak scientist doctor. English please.”
“Artificial Neural Network Brain Interface Communications lab, Colonel. We initiated Red Door protocol immediately. The suspected pathogen has been contained to the lab.”
“Thus, the lockdown.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Casualties?”
“Two dead.”
“Cause?”
“At first, we thought it might have been a contagion… some type of chemical attack the air-sniffing robots failed to detect – a nano spore, perhaps. North Korea has been working on that technology for years. But as it turned out it’s some type of poison.”
“So not airborne?”
“No, sir. The Biological and Infectious Agent Response Team is in the lab now. They sampled the air. It passed. But when they fogged the lab, they discovered yellow residue on the microscope dials. Some sort of clear liquid. We think a nerve agent was applied to the equipment. It turned color when it came in contact with the fogging chemical. I believe that as soon as the scientists touched the equipment the poison was transferred through their fingertips and into their bloodstream. Because it was invisible, they couldn't see it on the dials. It was just a matter of time before it attacked their central nervous system. The sample is being analyzed now to determine exactly what it is. Regardless, they didn't stand a chance.”
“Jesus.”
At the lab entrance, Dr. Han turned to Hallier. “Colonel, there’s something I need to say.”
“I’m listening.”
“With the possible exception of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, DLS is the most secure research facility in the country and one of the best in the world. We have never had an incident occur here since we opened the doors fifteen years ago. This entire wing requires both retinal pattern biometric scanning and voice recognition to get through each door. In addition, there are three armed security checkpoints which staff must clear just to get to their lab. Yet despite all that security we end up going from zero occurrences to Red Door Protocol in minutes. Being breached once means we could get hit again. The next time it could be worse.”
Hallier’s temper was beginning to boil. “Worse than two dead?”
Han spoke calmly. “Sir, what if this was just a test? What if the true intention of this attack was to determine our level of vulnerability. Next time everyone in this facility could be dead.”
A member of the security escort whose lapel nameplate read TAYLOR spoke. “Dr. Han, may I interject?”
Han nodded.
“Sir, the EVAC stations have submitted their head counts. All staff members are accounted for except one. Dr. Merrick hasn’t reported into any of the marshaling areas.”
“Are you sure?” Han asked.
“Positive.” Sergeant Taylor opened a computer program on his tablet and showed it to Han and Hallier. “Every station on the DLS campus must report in during an emergency evacuation. A two-step process is followed. First, a biometric hand scan is taken of every employee the second they check into a station. Next, their medical status is assessed. See the names in green? Those are staff members who’ve checked-in and are fine. Names in yellow represent staff who are accounted for but are presenting with an acute medical issue. Could be a superficial wound, injured but conscious, that sort of thing. Names in blue are unconscious, unresponsive or require immediate transport to hospital by ambulance or LifeFlight. Names in black are VSA: vital signs absent. The deceased, Dr’s Grant and Fullerton, are so listed. Names in red have not reported in or are yet unaccounted for. As you can see, only one staff member is red listed: Dr. Jason Merrick, the director of this lab.”
Colonel Hallier turned to Han. “Was Merrick scheduled to be in today?”
“As far as I know,” Han replied. “But as lab director and project lead, he’s free to set his own hours.”
Taylor referred back to the tablet. “The card key log indicates he swiped in a few minutes before eight this morning then out fifteen minutes later. There’s no record of him returning to the campus, Colonel.”
“Has he called in?”
“No, sir. Telephony reports no inbound calls logged from any of his contact numbers.”
“What about Extranet login or computer activity?”
“Nothing.”
“Is he being monitored?”
Taylor hesitated before answering. He glanced at Han.
“Don’t worry about Dr. Han, Sergeant,” Hallier said. “I need to know if Dr. Merrick is presently under surveillance. Is he the subject of an internal investigation?”
“No, sir. We have no open file on Dr
. Merrick.”
Han suddenly looked uncomfortable, perhaps wondering if he was being covertly monitored by DARPA agents.
The Colonel checked his watch and turned to Han. “Would it be out of the ordinary for Dr. Merrick not to have checked in by now?”
“Quite,” Han replied. “Dr. Merrick is rarely away from his lab and has a reputation for expecting the same level of commitment from the scientists on his team. To my knowledge, he has not taken a vacation in years. Not since he lost his wife and daughter. Very sad.”
Hallier looked through the narrow mesh window into the lab. Two members of the Biological and Infectious Agent Response Team were collecting blood and saliva samples from the floor where the research scientists had fallen and died while others sprayed, scrubbed, and carefully placed all exposed items into thick red disposal bags labeled BIOHAZARD.
“Is everything in the lab accounted for?” Hallier asked.
Neither Han nor Taylor responded.
Hallier raised his voice. “Has BIART inventoried the lab since the campus went into lockdown? Is anything is missing? Equipment… files?”
“No, Colonel,” Han answered. “The lab hasn’t been assessed yet.” He pointed to a red light flashing above the door. “All lab entrances are computerized and tied into Central Station Monitoring. This door will remain locked until BIART stands down and Red Door protocol is cancelled.”
“What about video surveillance?” Hallier asked.
“We record every square inch of the complex, except for the labs,” Taylor answered.
“Why not the labs?”
“DARPA never saw the need for it because of our enhanced security equipment and guard stations,” Han answered. “We also don’t permit recording devices of any kind in the labs.”
“That includes phones?” Hallier asked.
“Especially phones. Too much technology in one device. We prefer to eliminate the temptation for staff to take pictures, send texts or emails, or upload confidential information to the web. Besides, every lab entrance is equipped with an IntelliLock chamber. Once you step through the main entrance door to the lab the second door won’t open if the system detects any electronic devices on your body or in the chamber itself. The only exceptions are Pacemakers and artificial limbs or a Level Five authorized override.”
“You’re telling me that being charged with treason for illegally disseminating secret government information isn’t an effective enough deterrent?” Hallier asked.
“It’s a Dark Web world out there, sir. Unfortunately, some people can still be bought.” Han tapped his finger on a metal cabinet built into the wall outside the lab entrance which featured its own card key reader. “These are property storage boxes. All personal belongings must be locked in here before entering the lab.”
“Can you open it, Sergeant?” Hallier asked.
“Yes sir,” Taylor answered. “But the lab is still being processed. What if the contaminant made its way into the box? We could be exposed as soon as I open the door.”
Hallier turned to Han. “Is that possible?”
“No,” Han replied. “These units are triple sealed. There’s no threat of exposure.”
“Then open it,” Hallier said.
Sergeant Taylor removed the master card key from his pocket and slid it through the reader. The access light on the metal box turned from amber to green. The cover panel clicked open.
The interior of the unit featured three separate key-locked compartments. The top compartment was labeled GRANT, the middle FULLERTON, the lowest MERRICK.
“You have the keys?” Hallier asked.
“Yes sir,” Taylor replied.
“Open them.”
Taylor opened each compartment. Despite Dr. Han’s assurance that they were not at risk of being exposed to an unknown lethal contaminant he took a few steps back, nonetheless.
Dr. Grant’s drawer contained the key fob to his Tesla, smartphone, watch and wallet.
Fullerton’s drawer contained his smartphone and the key to his Harley.
Merrick’s drawer included three items. The first was a crumpled photograph taken at the base of the Eiffel Tower while on a family vacation in Paris. Dr. Merrick stood beside his wife and daughter. The picture had been taken long before the day yet to come that would shatter his world forever.
Colonel Hallier removed the second item from the box: a thin metallic band.
“My God!” Han said. “That’s the first-generation brain neural interface for Project Channeler. That technology is being developed specifically for DARPA. Under no circumstances is it to leave the lab.”
The third item was an empty glass vial labeled LEEDA FIELD TRIAL. “And this?” Hallier asked.
“LEEDA,” Dr. Han replied. “An injection technology developed to give our military an unprecedented advantage in covert warfare. If Merrick has misappropriated these technologies, the consequences could be unimaginable... even catastrophic.”
Hallier turned over the photograph. On the back Merrick had scrawled three words:
‘ALL WILL PAY’
The Colonel pocketed the items and turned to Dr. Han and Sergeant Taylor.
“I’m ordering this facility to be placed on permanent lockdown. Until otherwise notified, Red Door protocol will remain in effect. Taylor, put your team on High Tactical Alert. Find Merrick. Have your people deep-sweep every square inch of this building and post guards at every entrance and exit. All Dynamic Life Sciences staff will be transported to Joint Forces Training Base Los Alamitos within the hour. We’ll accommodate them until this matter is resolved. There is to be no discussion with staff about the reason for this action other than to say its protocol under these circumstances. Do I make myself clear?”
Taylor saluted. “Crystal, sir.”
Han nodded. “I’ll notify my people right away.”
Colonel Hallier returned to his car and placed a call. The connection was made but no greeting provided. He spoke:
“Pericles.”
“Safe word?”
“Copernicus.”
“State your message.”
“Situation Report, Dynamic Life Sciences. Channeler and LEEDA projects compromised. Requesting ALPHA ONE priority.”
Silence on the line.
The operator responded: “Pericles, you are green for emergency debriefing.”
The call was immediately terminated.
69
ON THE QUIET cul-de-sac of multimillion dollar mansions where neighboring driveways proudly displayed fine automobiles from such luxury purveyors as Maserati, Aston Martin, Porsche, and Bentley, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Mobile Command Unit looked conspicuously out of place.
Jordan and Chris climbed the metal stairs of the MCU and stepped inside. Several agents were busy conducting interviews with the Rosenfeld’s staff. Concerned for the welfare of the house’s personnel, Chef Hershoff had chosen to remain at the scene and assist the agents where needed. He was seated beside the house matron, Rosalia Cruz. Having arrived for what she had assumed would be another typical workday Rosalia was customarily attired in her black maid’s dress with crisp white collar and cuffs, white apron, and black leather shoes. Hershoff held her hand and comforted her through her tears while the agent took her statement.
Seated in front of his computer at the opposite end of the MCU, forensics lead investigator Steve Reynolds gestured to Jordan and Hanover to join him.
“Pull up a chair,” Reynolds said as he drew a thick curtain along its ceiling track behind them. The sound-dampening material offered privacy and muted their conversation.
“I examined the flash drive you found on our victim,” Reynolds said. He opened the drive. “It’s not protected. No password or firewall. This file was not intended to hide information. The killer wanted us to have full access to it.”
The drive contained a single file labeled “AWP.” The document consisted of five alphanumeric lines:
DM 14PFnFlenmalGdqFNkdGkajnsDh6JnrFk
s
VT 29nRtHphyxnEnCGLbsMxfJhc
RI 12pFbGsfxkhFgLFxkElndgsKv7E
GA 36qHrLhdpfkDiTDHeiTfkduDn4Dqpr
PM 28eKbTdibfoRvQWTskYfrnkDd4Whb
HJ 26jTfdswrkIgBMFxoHftalDr7Puwm
“Any idea what it means?” Jordan asked.
“Not the foggiest.”
“Could you lift any prints?” Chris asked.
“No joy,” Reynolds replied. “The only contributions we’re going to get from this will be confirmatory blood and saliva from Dr. Rosenfeld.”
“Anything unique about the drive itself?”
Reynolds shook his head. “Just your run-of-the-mill generic flash drive. Retailers across the country sell thousands of these every day, not including online sales. What I can tell you is that the content was created two weeks ago and authored under the username “AWP.” It’s never been modified or revised.”
The similarities between the murders in El Segundo and Long Beach paralleled the Rosenfeld killings. Was it possible that they were connected? So far Jordan and Chris were no further ahead than they had been earlier in the week. Their superiors were already looking for answers. The pressure to solve the case was on. Their newly formed partnership was already under the microscope.
Chris and Jordan thanked Agent Reynolds. “Let us know when you’ve figured out what it means,” Jordan said. The agents turned to leave.
“Before you go, there’s something you guys should know,” Reynolds said.
“What’s that?” Jordan asked.
“The breakage pattern of the front door’s crystal inlay across the floor. It doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?” Chris asked.
“Well, to put in simple terms, it’s wrong. I’ve investigated dozens of home invasions over the years where shattered glass was found at the point of entry. Perpetrators break glass in several ways. Pro’s usually tape it, break it, then peel it out of the frame. Amateurs just smash it using an object of opportunity, a piece of wood or a rock. But the one constant is cast off. There is a limit to the distance a piece of glass can travel when struck by force. The longest cast off I’ve ever documented was thirty-three feet from point of impact. A violent break was needed to achieve that distance. But here we found pieces of crystal lying against the baseboard on the far side of the Rosenfeld’s vestibule. That’s a distance of eighty feet from the point of impact. That’s unheard of. The only logical means to achieve that distance of cast off is if the crystal insert had been framed with primer cord then detonated. We know that wasn’t the case here because we checked. No evidence of an explosive compound was found on the insert, door frame, or the floor. Regardless, it was as if the glass had been simultaneously melted and blasted across the room.”
The Jordan Quest FBI Thriller Series: Books 1-3: The Jordan Quest FBI Thriller Series Boxset Book 1 Page 28