“There will be a false report that we all contracted Legionnaires’ and died in the emergency room or something to that effect.”
“We have to get out somehow, I—”
“But how?”
Tilford’s voice was just a pitch too high and alerted one of the guards.
“You two stop talking and move on inside, now!”
Mike nodded and took a step forward as instructed but added a parting whisper: “Be ready, just be ready.”
Tilford looked at the chopper pilot, now with his cap and sunglasses removed. He was in his late thirties, maybe early forties, Tilford suspected, with closely cropped brown hair that had so much dandruff you could be excused for thinking he just went wild with the salt shaker. A firm-jawed face with his Sam Elliot mustache and a stocky muscular build, he wasn’t the type you’d want to be on the wrong side of, Tilford reasoned.
“Just keep the chatter down and head inside the building in front of you,” another guard ordered. Like cattle they walked single file into their holding pen.
As the days of their liberty looked to have come to an end, a struggle to remain free had just begun two hours away in Kansas City.
Moya jumped over the head-high chain-link fence at the end of the parking lot. A physically fit young man he wasn’t, and it was quite an effort. He felt a twinge in his hamstring as he jumped down onto the concrete sidewalk, but he couldn’t stop to be concerned with that now.
If I could just get to, to… where the hell would I go?
He was a stranger in a strange place. Airports, train stations and bus depots would be out of the question. That he had been discovered so soon, told him not only was he out of the loop, but the situation was of an urgent nature, and all these travel centers would be under surveillance.
He was reluctant to do so but knew a taxi would be the only way to get out of the area fast. With just over a thousand US dollars in cash, once out of the center of the city, he could hitch a ride with an interstate truck driver perhaps. He needed more money, and he was sure his travelers’ checks had been canceled, or as soon as they were cashed the authorities would appear in minutes. Almost on cue, a taxicab came around the corner; apparently having just dropped a fare off at the hotel entrance. Moya waved for the drivers’ attention.
“Where to?” the cabbie said as Moya climbed into the backseat.
“Where’s the nearest small town from here?”
The cabbie spun in his seat and looked quizzically at his passenger. He’d had some strange destination requests in his time but not like this.
“Small town? Are you—”
The wail of police sirens cut him short. Black-and-whites of the Kansas City PD swarmed around the yellow taxicab blocking the front, rear and sides. Doors flew open, and officers with guns drawn took cover behind the squad cars.
“Driver, keep your hands on the wheel—on the wheel!” came a command over a police loud-speaker. “Passenger, exit from the right-hand side and raise your hands!”
The arrival of the police happened so fast Moya had no time to assess the situation, he complied without protest. With more than a dozen guns trained on him, he didn’t have any other options. As soon as he stepped from the cab, Moya was told to lie face down on the ground. As he did a vehicle, pull up behind him. The sound of a door sliding open and a shuffle of heavy boots followed. Moya felt his arms pinned behind and handcuffs slapped on his wrists. A dark hood was thrown over his head, after which he was lifted into the air by several officers and dumped into the back of a waiting van.
His days as a fugitive were short-lived.
At the rear of the police cars, a lone man in a dark suit with a skinny black tie and sunglasses stood next to a black SUV, a cell phone to his ear.
“We got him!” Was all he said when his call was answered. He hung up, got back in his vehicle and drove off.
After receiving the call from Kansas City, Calgleef afforded himself a smile and a drink. A bourbon on the rocks was his poison. Things were on the mend—he hoped. He didn’t know where the NSA stood on this matter, and they weren’t likely to inform him. Whatever. As long as Thorn Bio—Tech, and more importantly their plans, could proceed unhindered for another few months when the locally manufactured vaccine would be in place. He had already ordered the recall of the vaccines rushed into the country; it would give the appearance of a direct action taking place. The news stations could inform the public that the CDC was on top of the situation with the damaged-in-flight vaccines as well as the cleanup of the Legionnaires’ outbreak in Des Moines.
Calgleef looked at the clock on his desk, it was late in London, but Thorncroft would have to be informed.
“Mr. Thorncroft, sorry to disturb you, sir, but—”
“That’s perfectly all right, Dr. Calgleef,” Thorncroft told him, his voice unusually cheerful. Calgleef had no idea the reason for his cheer. “What news do you have for me?”
“Sir, the five people rescued by the news helicopter have been taken into quarantine, well five actually—”
“FIVE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN FIVE?” Thorncroft’s disposition changed abruptly.
“One was shot as she tried to escape, Mr. Thorncroft…”
“Shot? What in the hell… argh! I don’t have time for all the questions that would naturally follow such an incident, Calgleef, but I will assume you are taking measures to insure there are no repercussions?”
“Yes, sir, the body has been taken to a secret lab, set up by the NSA, where an autopsy can be performed.” He thought that would appease Thorncroft some but was greeted by silence.
“And what of the hospital itself?”
“The NSA have direct access to the CCTV and motion detectors throughout the hospital, and the last report I received indicated there had been no movement inside for nearly an hour, Mr. Thorncroft.”
“Mm, that’s too bad.”
Calgleef was a little surprised when he heard the Englishman response and wondered if he wasn’t as callous as the rumors said. “Yes, sir, it is a tragic loss of life.”
“You’ve still fail to grasp it all, don’t you, Calgleef?”
Calgleef was himself stunned into silence before he finally stuttered, “Err, sir…I’m not—”
“I own one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, as you know.” Thorncroft began to spell it out. “Vaccines are one of our major earners, don’t you know? Healthy people don’t take medications unless there is a fear of catching something, and the vaccine is an offer to protect them from the particular disease… a carrot-and-stick approach if you like. The more people who have their shots yearly, the more money we make. And in order to get them to take their shots they have to be afraid of the specific malady from which the vaccine promises to protect them against. Now, do you understand?”
“Err, yes Mr. Thorncroft.” The picture was becoming clearer for Calgleef, but he hadn’t quite put all the pieces of the puzzle together.
“Oh, you do, do you? Well, let me tell you, I don’t give a shit how many died in that hospital or who got shot, but I do care about this contract—we have a patent filed for this vaccine—do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do, I do.” Calgleef also understood he was premature in thinking Thorncroft was able to feel any sympathy.
“We control the vaccines as a pharmaceutical company, but we also control the diseases. You need to have the power to unleash both at the right time in order to capture the entire market.”
A chill ran the length of Calgleef’s body, and both his hands began to shake. He understood it all now. Thorncroft, and his company, had harnessed the Baltic flu, placed it into the vaccines and released it on an unsuspecting United States. With privatization and the ability of drug manufacturers to charge what they like, the profit potential was huge. And it would grow every year as the effects of the flu were felt on the young and the very old. A big carrot and an even bigger stick, Calgleef reflected.
“You still with me, Calgleef?”
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“Yes, sir.”
“And you plan to stay with me, right?” Thorncroft now directly questioned Calgleef’s loyalty.
Calgleef coughed after taking a good belt from his whiskey. “Yes, sir, of course, Mr. Thorncroft.”
Calgleef poured himself another stiffer drink. He had been willing all along to promote and protect Thorn Bio-Tech’s investment and was even prepared to hide certain truths in order for this to proceed. Calgleef wasn’t all that fast, or perhaps he just didn’t care that much, but that had changed. He now understood he was promoting the growth of the very pestilence he was charged with keeping out. He understood it all now, well, almost. What he failed to piece together when Thorncroft said, “we control the vaccines and the diseases” was that the disease itself was also manufactured by Thorn Bio-Tech with assistance from several intelligence communities around the world.
“Now what do I do?” he asked himself.
The endgame as he understood it now was to confine this new pestilence to a small area, not to let it get out of hand before the vaccine could be manufactured in the US. But he couldn’t quarantine everybody, which was what he had been doing. That could prevent the pathogen from being communicated altogether.
Then it came to him like a light bulb going off. The vaccines! There would still be some vials in the Riverside hospital that hadn’t been picked up by the disposal squads. He could use that against…
“That bitch Delaney and the crew who escaped with her!” he yelled out with excitement. “Fucking brilliant, Andrew, fucking brilliant!”
He didn’t have to worry about his secretary hearing his elation, as he had sent her home earlier, more as protection against her overhearing than anything else.
“Yes, yes.” He took a swig from his glass, then slammed it down on his desk, picked up the bottle and poured another four fingers of bourbon; and this time, he gave the ice a miss. He could get rid of an awkward situation that he didn’t relish in the first place. He had been ordered, not in as many words but he read between the lines, to dispose of the group rescued from the rooftop along with the TV news team. But he wasn’t a soldier or a politician, and ordering the execution of people didn’t sit well with him even if it was to protect his “billions.” He started to make a plan of how best to go about it. Making an offer of clemency to the five remaining members of the group in exchange for silence would be the ideal solution, then inform them they’d have to be vaccinated—the real vaccination—for precautionary measures. At least he could tell them that. The Baltic flu didn’t leave many survivors, and it wouldn’t be as hard as having them shot and dumped somewhere. Besides, he could convince himself the vaccine was given to prevent the flu from taking hold and when Grace Delaney and the others started to show symptoms of the flu Calgleef could simply say, “they were just too far gone”. Taking a CDC executive jet, he could be in Des Moines in a couple of hours. With the emergency taking place and as director of the CDC, he’d be ushered straight through at the airport, he was certain of that.
“Yeah I can live with that.” He raised his glass in a toast. He had this covered.
15
Fifteen
The trailer-homes inside the dark and mysterious warehouse were divided into smaller sections, no bigger than a bedroom in a 5th wheel trailer-or a prison cell. All five of the prisoners were placed into separate rooms where they sat in a lone chairs. A container of water and a single plastic cup on an old table were the furnishings. The locks on the doors didn’t look very secure, but with the armed guards outside with semi—automatic pistols, it didn’t much matter. Each one was kept confined in this manner for several hours, and as Grace started to think their time might be up, she heard the shuffle of approaching footsteps in the tiny hallway outside her ‘cell’. The lock clicked and the door opened, a man in a yellow hazmat suit stepped through, it took her a moment before she recognized it was Calgleef, through the clear plastic visor . The first face from her past life she’d seen for a few hours, she didn’t know if she should hug him for coming to save her (if that indeed was what he was doing) or kick him in the family jewels for allowing her to get into such a situation.
She should have chosen the latter.
“Miss Delaney, how nice to see you again.” Calgleef’s voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a 55 gallon drum inside the suit but the sarcasm was unmistakable.
“Calgleef, what, where…”
“It’s okay. I have to wear this for precautions, but I’m sure you’re aware of that,” he said calmly enough. He held both hands up, palms out, to emphasize there was no danger.
“As you can well imagine, I’ve been extremely busy since this crisis began.”
That’s the second time he’s assured me of my knowledge. He’s greasing the wheels for something. Grace grew suspicious of his presence.
“What’s happened at the hospital, Calgleef? What’s the situation?” She stood up and stared at him through the clear visor that protected his face.
“It’s all under control, Miss Delaney, the Legionnaires’—”
“Legionnaires’ my ass!” She confronted him. The visor of Calgleef’s suit the only thing that prevented their noses from touching. “You know damn-well what’s inside that hospital. And it’s not fucking Legionnaires’!”
“I don’t know anything of the sort, Delaney.” He discarded the formalities; the gloves were off. “And it would be a wise if you acted the same way.”
“Or what? Are you threatening me?”
“Yes, Miss Delaney, I am. Now sit down!”
Grace noted the hostility in his voice. Calgleef was contemptuous of most people but would never speak to anyone like that unless he was in an extremely well-placed position.
Obviously he is in league with Moya. She presumed.
“This is how it’s going to work out—or not, depending on if you wish to play ball.”
Calgleef then laid his cards on the table. “If you and the doctor you escaped with sign this form, which stipulates you will not utter a word in public and especially not to anyone from the media, you will all be allowed to leave once we have conducted tests and are satisfied you haven’t contracted Legionnaires’ disease—”
“But there—”
The CDC director held up his rubber-gloved index finger, silencing her protest.
“If you don’t, I can’t be responsible for the actions of your captors. You see, these people not under my control and take their orders from above.”
The words “from above” had the desired effect. Grace Delaney had been with the CDC long enough to know of the close relationship they had with military departments concerned with nuclear, biological and chemical warfare as well as the NSA, CIA, FBI and a more than a dozen other “alphabet” agencies. She was aware that secrets, formulas and the most effective ways to distribute these pathogens were shared among these agencies and departments—under the guise of preparing for such an attack. But, as her research over the last few days pointed out, the United States was the only country with access to such devastating material, and for any terrorist group to use such material in an attack they’d have to get it from the US first. She’d heard the rumors some years back that the US government had patented the Ebola virus, but every time she planned on looking into the matter she was sent off to oversee a CDC program of one type or another. She understood Calgleef’s superior tone, he held all the aces. If he didn’t get what he wanted, then the black-shirts outside would carry out their orders. Which Grace was sure meant a bullet to the back of the head or a lethal injection.
“You might be stronger than the others, and I would assume you to be, but would you be capable of standing by and watching them suffer?” Calgleef handed her a clipboard and a pen.
“You’re a bastard, do you know that?” she said to him as she snatched the clipboard from his gloved hand.
“Yes, I do know that,” he said as he stared at her blankly.
“Thank you. There will be some formaliti
es to go through, as I said, but you and your companions will be free to go once they all agree to these few demands.”
He stepped back and pounded on the door a couple of times with his fist, all the while keeping an alert eye on Grace.
“One question, Calgleef… what happened to Nurse Sanders?”
A black-shirt guard, his head covered by a respirator mask, opened the door for Calgleef. “Her body was placed inside a contamination proof bag, then into a coffin. She’ll be flown back to her home state for her parents to bury her.”
Grace didn’t like his tone but accepted his explanation.
She was getting a second chance, as were the others. Far from a perfect ending, this was the best they could hope for. Signing the form and agreeing to Calgleef’s conditions was hard but not as hard as knowing that if she didn’t, the others would be killed—perhaps in front of her.
Calgleef had certainly intimated as much.
As the locks snapped into place on the door to her ‘cell’ she reflected on the events over the last few hours—which was the first thing that hit her. All these events had so far taken place in less than half a day. An outbreak of a virulent pathogen didn’t need much time to take hold, especially when various individuals and agencies safeguarded its distribution.
She would go along with Calgleef’s demands, not just for the sake of the others, but because there was always the chance that she could find some way to prevent or at least warn the American people of the severity of this disease.
She couldn’t do that if she were dead.
Yes, she would go along.
Calgleef walked out of the prefab trailer and into the bare warehouse.
“What’s the plan now?” The black-shirt guard who appeared to be in authority came forward.
“We’ll have to get the vaccinations from the Riverside hospital to use on them. They won’t be much trouble after that. Let me organize one of my security teams’ onsite to pick them up. In the meantime we need to sedate them. I don’t want them knowing they were injected, okay?”
Pestilence Boxed Set [Books 1 & 2] Page 13