by Alex Kava
A few people saw Winnie’s vest with WORKING DOG on the side, and they helped make a path for her and Jason. Others ignored them. He had to ask them to please move. Not an ideal situation. He wasn’t supposed to draw attention to himself or to his dog. It pissed him off when people wouldn’t move for Winnie, but then they’d glance at his empty shirtsleeve and move back. He didn’t care if they were being polite or if they were disgusted, he just didn’t want to be treated any differently.
To make things more complicated, Winnie was still paying way too much attention to the little boy. The kid now wrestled with his mother, who was trying to keep him from running toward Winnie. At one point the young mother asked Jason if her son could pet the dog. He shook his head and pointed to Winnie’s vest. Under the word WORKING DOG it read in smaller letters DO NOT PET.
Jason still couldn’t figure out who Winnie was zeroing in on. The dog slowed at times, even stopping once in front of a group of teenagers. He had already activated the phone app and signaled that he might have a virus carrier. He didn’t care if Winnie ended up with a false alert. He wanted DHS here. He’d let them decide what to do with the person, if and when the dog lay down at someone’s feet.
She kept circling back to the little boy. What was it about little kids? Had the dog been taken away from one who was important to her? Maybe she hadn’t seen too many before and they fascinated her. Or was it that this boy made so much noise? Whatever the reason, Jason started to get impatient.
He tried to shut out all the noises and concentrate only on Winnie. He needed to calm himself, to slow down his own breathing so that the dog didn’t smell his anxiety. She had already looked up at him twice with her head cocked to the side as if asking if he was okay. Once again, he forced himself to remember all the things Creed had taught him.
His phone started to vibrate. Jason ordered Winnie to sit so he could hold her leash and answer the phone.
“This is Charlie,” Wurth said. “I’m headed your way. Just wanted to warn you. Keep your distance from the target. Hannah and Tillie tracked one about twenty minutes ago and the girl freaked and tried to get away. Started shoving and punching passengers around her.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jason muttered.
“I’ll see you in five.”
Wurth ended the call before Jason could tell him that he hadn’t located the carrier yet. Or if there even was one. Winnie stared hard at the little boy and the whole time her nose was working the air.
Then Jason saw the guy.
He was standing behind the little boy and the mother. The man was pretending to not be interested in Winnie, and yet he was watching her every move from beneath the brim of his ball cap. From twenty feet away, Jason could see that the man was sweating . . . a lot.
68
Jason took Winnie around to the far side of the row of filled seats. It was difficult to navigate over waiting passengers’ feet and their luggage sprawled between the rows. He wanted to come at the man from a different angle just to make sure this was Winnie’s target.
He saw the emblem on the man’s ball cap, and at first Jason thought he’d misjudged the guy. The black cap had 22KILL embroidered in red on the crown. The 22KILL represented the twenty-two veterans who were killed by suicide every day on a yearly average.
That’s how they worded it: “killed by suicide” not “committed suicide.” The idea being that many of these veterans would not have chosen suicide if they had not been suffering from PTSD or other mental and physical disorders caused by their service. The organization hoped to raise awareness to the epidemic.
Jason knew all this because Tony had talked about joining. Now he glanced at the man’s right hand and he could see the black band—the honor ring—that members wore symbolically on their trigger finger. It was meant to be a silent salute to all vets.
Maybe the guy had been watching Jason, not Winnie. If he was a veteran, Jason’s amputated arm might have brought back memories of his own combat service.
Jason was just about to dismiss him and start examining the surrounding passengers, but then Winnie began shoving her way through the maze of luggage. Jason gave her a longer lead so he could stay back. From his position, the man in the black ball cap would be able to see Jason through the crowd, but he couldn’t see Winnie down below, hidden by legs and bags and seats.
For a second or two even Jason couldn’t see the dog, but he held the retractable leash tight then felt it stop before it reached its limit.
Winnie had stopped.
Jason felt a kick of panic in his gut. He tried to see her through the crowded mass. There was no way he could just reel the dog back. He glanced over heads and around bodies. Another dozen seconds went by and now Jason couldn’t see the man in the black ball cap.
69
THE NATIONAL BIO AND AGRO-DEFENSE FACILITY
GEORGIA
O’Dell and Creed had gotten through the security checkpoint. They were on the visitors list just as Platt had promised. O’Dell tried to shake the heated argument the two of them had about whether Platt should come along. She knew he just wanted to help, but his name on a visitors list would have drawn too much attention. The truth was Platt still trusted Colonel Hess even after what happened in North Carolina. And because of that, O’Dell didn’t trust Platt’s judgment when it came to Hess.
The guard didn’t even seem interested in Grace or their reason to be here. When Creed asked directions to the scientist they were meeting, the guard circled the building on a map of the campus and handed it to Creed.
Because the man was so lax, O’Dell decided to risk pushing the envelope and asked, “I’d like to drop by and say hello to an old friend who just started here. Can you tell us which building Dr. Stephen Bishop works in?”
He stared at her. Then he picked up a small spiral-bound book and started flipping through it. The whole time O’Dell was holding her breath. What if he was looking up Bishop’s phone number instead of the building? What if he picked up his phone and called?
She saw Creed give her a sideways glance like he was looking for direction because she had gone off script. She noticed that his right hand gripped the gearshift as if ready to shove it into reverse if necessary. O’Dell could even see Grace impatiently shuffling her front paws. And suddenly she started to inch her hand inside her jacket, fingering her weapon where it was tucked into her shoulder holster.
The guard put his hand out to Creed, surprising both of them.
“The map,” he said when Creed didn’t understand. “I’ll circle Dr. Bishop’s building. That one’s easy to find. It’s right next door to the aviary.”
Neither of them said a word until Creed parked in a shaded space in the corner of the lot, far away from the only security camera.
“Did that just seem too easy?” Creed asked.
“Maybe a bit reckless,” O’Dell admitted. “But I don’t think we have very much time. If and when the dogs catch the first virus carriers, their watchers will be alerting Shaw about what’s happening at the airport. And if she gets spooked she’ll disappear again. I’ve been looking for her for over five months. I don’t want to lose her.”
O’Dell looked over her shoulder at Grace and said to the dog, “Let’s go find her, Grace.”
70
HARTSFIELD-JACKSON ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
GEORGIA
Where’s the target?” someone whispered next to Jason, startling him.
It was Charlie Wurth.
Jason was trying to figure out a way to get to Winnie without pushing and shoving. His heart pounded out the seconds. That Wurth was here beside him was not a relief. He wanted to get his dog. That he could no longer see the man in the black cap made Jason’s gut twist into a knot.
“He was on the other side of this row of seats. I think Winnie stopped in front of him. You said I shouldn’t approach. You said I needed to keep my distance.�
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He held up his end of the retractable leash. He clutched the case, holding it tight, when suddenly he felt the tension slack. Then came the dreaded sound of the retractable leash whizzing back through the legs of passengers, snagging temporarily on a luggage strap before it clamored noisily back into the plastic case still clutched in Jason’s hand.
Someone had unclipped it from Winnie’s collar.
“Son of a bitch,” Jason said.
Wurth did a double take at the case, and then his eyes followed where the cord had come from. Suddenly the calm, cool deputy director started grabbing shoulders and pushing open a path into the crowd. He flashed a badge when a couple of men shoved back at him. They immediately held up their hands and stood back. Jason followed, sick to his stomach that he had put his dog in jeopardy. What the hell had happened?
Wurth continued to wave his badge, and now he was yelling for passengers to move. People started getting out of the way of the crazy black man waving something in the air. Then they parted enough for Jason to see Winnie. She was lying on the floor, between two rows of seats. The man with the black ball cap kneeled beside her with his hands on her neck. Jason rushed him but Wurth held him back.
The man looked up at Wurth and Jason. This close it was easy to see that his eyes were watery and his cheeks hollow. He was drenched in sweat. But now Jason could see that the man wasn’t hurting Winnie. He was petting her with both hands, over and over again.
“She’s such a good dog,” the man told them. “She reminds me of my Abby.” Then he wiped at his runny nose and said, “I can’t do this. I can’t get on that plane. I’m just feeling so sick. I just wanna go home to my dog.”
Wurth had his cell phone to his ear even as he said to the man, “Don’t worry, buddy. You just stay put. We’re going to take care of you. We’ll get you back home to your dog.”
71
THE NATIONAL BIO AND AGRO-DEFENSE FACILITY
GEORGIA
Stephen Bishop swiped the security card and shoved open the door to the lab. Only the three scientists had access. Dr. Sheila Robins had left for the day, and Getz hadn’t shown up this morning. Perhaps Hess had already done something with him . . . or to him. Bishop couldn’t be bothered. There were many more pressing issues. Besides, Howard Getz was the colonel’s responsibility.
One of the burner phones started to vibrate. The old man couldn’t possibly be expecting an update on phase two this soon.
“What is it?”
“We just heard from one of the watchers at the airport,” Hess said in a tone edged with hysteria. “They’ve taken one of the carriers into custody.”
“Impossible,” Bishop said.
“They have dogs. Several watchers have now reported seeing them.”
“But how? The canine patrols at airports are trained for explosives and drugs.”
“You tell me how. You’re the scientist.”
“We need to abort the plan,” Bishop finally told Hess.
“How can we do that? Some are boarding planes as we speak.”
“Pull them off. Have their watchers get them out of there. Do you want more of them caught and risk what they might tell officials? You still haven’t even found the New York girl. I tell you, if any of them are caught they’ll be able to lead the authorities to this lab.” Bishop stopped at that realization. It wasn’t safe here. How much time before they discovered where the carriers were injected?
“You need to scrub everything,” Hess said. “I’ll send Tabor to take care of you and Dr. Robins.”
“Okay.” Bishop ended the call with a sense of relief, then suddenly remembered that was the same thing Hess had said about Dr. Howard Getz. That he’d send Tabor to take care of him. What did that mean?
Hess was only concerned about his own self-preservation. He had chosen the other scientists and arranged for them to use the labs and offices at this facility. He took over the watchers and even provided the new list to be used for virus carriers. What started out as Bishop’s lifelong project had slowly and manipulatively been taken over by Hess. Bishop saw that now and remembered how the colonel had “scrubbed” other projects that had gone wrong.
Bishop started packing a small case, adding several bags and syringes filled with the virus. There were always ways to replicate it and start over. These syringes would be for security and if necessary serve as the only weapon available right now.
The scientist started to open the lab door and get what was needed from the corner office but stopped at the sound of someone approaching. It was a strange click-clack gait on the tile floor. Bishop pulled the door closed and sneaked a glance out of the small window at the top of the door.
Coming down the hallway were a man, a woman, and a small dog.
72
Creed kept his eyes on both Maggie and Grace. He’d seen Maggie take risks before. Maybe they were alike in that respect. They were willing to risk their own well-being when they believed what they were doing was the right thing. Yes, sometimes it was reckless and dangerous. But there was one major difference—Creed wasn’t willing to risk his dog’s welfare. So he didn’t like this idea of walking directly up to the office of Dr. Stephen Bishop alias Dr. Clare Shaw and knocking on the door.
He’d seen what Shaw was capable of doing. In North Carolina he’d helped recover the bodies that had ended up buried in the mudslide. All of them had been shot in the head. But the bodies of Shaw’s test subjects were covered with red angry welts from experiments she had put them through. There were indentations on their scalps from where electrodes had been placed. The lone survivor, Daniel Tate, was plagued with hallucinations.
Yes, these men had volunteered and were paid just like Tony Briggs and Christina Lomax and Izzy Donner, but Shaw had gone way beyond ethical bounds. She had no regard for her test subjects.
Creed watched Maggie as they continued to the corner office at the end of the hallway. She kept her right hand tucked into her jacket, and he knew being armed gave her confidence. But he had a feeling bullets couldn’t compete with what Shaw was capable of using in order to escape.
Maggie must have noticed his apprehension.
“Just identify her,” she said in a low voice, almost a whisper. “Then both you and Grace need to move to safety.”
“I’m not going—”
“Please, Ryder, just promise me.”
He nodded and tightened his grip on Grace’s leash. He had purposely left off any special vests that might draw attention to her. Back at the Jeep, he had poured all of Shaw’s belongings out of the sealed evidence bag and into the cargo area. Then he let Grace take her time with them, pawing through some and sticking her nose far into the toe of one of the shoes. There would be a bunch of scents, but she would be able to pick out the overwhelming common ones and separate them out. She had done this before. She knew the routine. When she was ready she sat back and looked up at him.
Now almost to the corner office, Creed saw that Grace’s nose was skimming the floor tiles. Then her head reared back and her nose nodded up and down like she was tapping the air with it. He could see her chest rising and falling as her breath increased. They walked by one door and Grace skidded to a halt. There was a keypad. No other signs or notices that it was a secured area.
Grace hesitated there, sniffing the floor and door frame. Maggie had continued walking to the corner office, expecting Grace and Creed to follow. She turned and stopped. Her eyes flashed to the keypad right at the same time that Grace started back up again. The dog walked slowly, passed Maggie, stopped and considered the secure door again, and then started for the corner office.
Maggie knocked on the door as she waved Creed and Grace to step aside. When there was no answer, she pulled out her Glock and tried the doorknob. Creed could see that it turned easily in her hand. He pulled Grace to the wall as Maggie shouldered the door open, entering with her weapon stretched out
in front her.
She was in the room for only a few minutes when an alarm from up the hall began to screech. He could see red lights flashing over the exits. Doors all along the walls began to open and scientists, some in casual attire, others in white lab coats, spilled into the hallway. Some of them asked each other questions that couldn’t be heard over the loud screech.
Maggie came out.
“She’s not here,” she yelled to Creed. “What the hell’s going on?”
A man came out of the office next them and said, “Fire alarm. In these labs it’s best to get out and not even guess whether it’s a false alarm.” And he followed the others.
Creed reached down to lift up Grace, but she bolted away. She was so quick he almost lost hold of her leash. He hurried to keep up, glancing over his shoulder and mouthing to Maggie, Shaw!
73
Clare Shaw used what little time she had to rid herself of Stephen Bishop. In no time she pulled off the jacket, tie, shirt, and trousers. It took a bit longer to unzip and peel away the elastic body suit that flattened her breasts and added extra girth to her otherwise slim figure. She discarded the heavy-framed eyeglasses and peeled away the beard, scrubbing her fingers over her smooth face to wipe away any remaining glue.
Thankfully Dr. Sheila Robins always left extra clothing in her locker. Without the pudginess that belonged to Bishop, Shaw and Robins were about the same size. The only thing that didn’t fit quite right was the shoes. Rather than try to stuff her feet into too-small slippers, Shaw kept on Bishop’s loafers. If she were to escape, she’d need to be able to run. She had a long trek through the woods before she’d get to the old cabin where she had already stashed everything she’d need if this day ever came.