Outbreak

by Davis Bunn

  The target’s vehicle was midway up the slope leading to the main house. Cruz felt his heart racing in time to the screaming engine.

  forty-nine

  The car came out of nowhere. Theo had difficulty believing it even existed. The gate was almost sealed shut. He could see the metal staves lining the entire drive. And yet here it was, a nondescript newish vehicle, either tan or gold or green, racing up the drive behind them.

  Della was still leaning forward, asking, “What’s the matter?”

  He did it for her. Theo wasn’t aware of the thinking process just then. He reacted instinctively. But when he thought about it later, his response and the thought were there in his brain, welded together with adrenaline and fear. He did it because Della was leaning forward, off center, and if the car hit them hard, it could hurt her badly.

  He pressed the accelerator to the floor, jerked the steering wheel to the right, and aimed his Jeep off the drive and onto the lawn. Angled down.

  The car slammed into his SUV, pushing him in the direction he was already going. The attack was no longer straight on, however. The angle was canted enough that it merely accelerated the Jeep’s dive.

  Theo kept the accelerator mashed to the floor, because the car was still there. Chasing them down the hill.

  He bounced hard over a grassy ledge he had not even noticed until that very moment. The attacking vehicle was much lighter and catapulted up so high, Theo’s glance in the rearview mirror revealed its underbody and four spinning wheels.

  The car came down hard and kept coming. Theo carved a wide swath of raw earth from the manicured lawn. Straight ahead rose the closed front gates, the metal staves high and as sharp as fangs.

  Behind him and from the left came three quick sounds, so close together they sounded almost like one. Bang bang bang.

  Della screamed, “Gun! Gun!”

  fifty

  Cruz had the window down and his left hand extended all the way out, firing off three rounds. With the car’s wild bounces over the grass, he did not expect to hit anything. The shots were intended to spook the driver and cause him to do something foolish.

  Which he did.

  The target jerked his vehicle farther to the right, angling back uphill. Away from the closed gates. If he had a remote control it would have been bad, at least for Cruz. They could have sped away and called the cops and the hit would have gone south. But they had coded into the drive and now they were trapped.

  The uphill turn was a beginner’s mistake. The Jeep Cherokee was a solid vehicle with a strong four-wheel-drive system and a short turning axis. But it was also big and top-heavy, not designed for high-speed turns. The SUV came around in a series of bouncy shudders, the engine screaming and the wheels spewing grass and dirt at Cruz’s windshield. But the SUV’s turn was too severe and the speed too high, and that was all that mattered. When Bishop’s vehicle struck the stone ledge rimming the drive, Cruz saw two of its wheels rise up off the ground. The two remaining tires were slick from the mud and grass and damp still coating them. They threw out a barrage of white gravel, slowing the SUV’s uphill progress almost to a halt.

  Cruz slammed into the Jeep. He aimed for the girder sealing the frame between the two passenger doors. The assault came at the perfect moment. The SUV’s wheels were at their highest point, almost like a metal beast showing its glistening belly in abject defeat.

  The Jeep tilted farther. Cruz’s own tires spun for traction. His engine howled in tandem to the Jeep.

  The SUV tipped onto its side.

  Through his open window, Cruz heard a woman’s shrill scream.

  The sound was oddly satisfying. As though all the disorder this job carried suddenly crystallized into one high-pitched note of sheer terror.

  His door was jammed out of alignment by the two crashes. With a grunt, Cruz pushed against it with his shoulder, impatient to get down to the work at hand. Finally it opened with a metallic groan. He slid from the car, popped out the pistol’s clip, fed in a fresh one, and rounded the SUV. The windshield was cracked and spackled, making it hard to identify his target. But Cruz could see the man shifting inside. For an instant he could not make out exactly what was happening and feared the target might be armed.

  That was when he realized Bishop was shoving the man in the passenger seat into the back. Trying to protect him.

  Cruz smiled as he raised his gun. The way people responded to the approach of death never ceased to amaze him.

  Then he heard gunfire.

  fifty-one

  Theo’s Jeep seemed to fall forever.

  He sat there holding the wheel as they reached the critical point and tilted over. There was nothing he could do except regret. He knew he had done something terribly wrong, and it would probably get them all killed. He listened to the engine’s grinding whir and realized his foot was still on the gas. For some reason he could not manage to lift his leg. Every muscle in his body was locked solid.

  The force of the impact had knocked Della across the rear seat and silenced her scream. Until that moment she seemed capable of maintaining that high note forever without drawing another breath. Beside him, Avery groaned.

  He heard the attacker’s car door squeal open, followed by footsteps scrunching over the debris.

  A man came into view. Theo thought he looked impossibly young. Almost a child. The man’s image crept through the windshield’s cracks and dirt. What Theo saw most clearly was the gun in his hand. It looked as big as a cannon.

  The only thing he could think to do was release Avery’s seat belt and let the man fall on him. Avery shouted with pain, or shock, or both. Theo ignored the scientist’s protests and pushed him back through the opening between the seats, trying to get him into a position where Theo’s body might possibly shield him.

  It was a futile gesture. He knew this even as he kept pushing. But he had to do something.

  Then he heard shots fired.

  fifty-two

  Cruz found it difficult to accept what he saw. The target was so close. He could smell the man, his fear, the nearness of his death. All there on the other side of that shattered glass.

  But the threat was real and closing in. Three men clambered over the metal fence. They were shooting as they moved, but they were firing handguns and shooting uphill, and Cruz was almost completely shielded by the overturned SUV. They could see only the top of his head, which meant they were mostly firing to get his attention. He knew that, just as he knew he could easily take them. Still they kept firing. One of them, an older white man, gripped two of the staves just below the bladed tops and did a gymnast’s move, heaving his body sideways, up and over the fence. He tumbled when he fell and came up with his gun out. Blasting away at the underbody of the SUV. Preventing Cruz from focusing on the target as they drew closer.

  The two other men were much bigger, the largest man obsidian black, and both were having trouble cresting the fence. But they made it scarcely ten seconds behind the other.

  Cruz slipped back alongside the passenger door, where he was most protected and could still fire four clean shots. He took aim.

  Like shooting ducks in a pond.

  Then he realized someone was shooting from behind. Cruz spun around and recognized the small dark-skinned woman from the biology building. She moved impossibly fast. Pounding toward him, her boots flying over the gravel. Cruz raised his gun and was about to fire when her next shot took him high in the shoulder, spinning him around. He watched his own gun fly off into the grass. He needed to run after it, grab the weapon, and finish the job.

  But just then he was forced to sit down.

  Even before he struck the gravel, the woman landed on him. Or pounced. She was surprisingly strong. Her look, her snarling voice speaking a language he could not identify, let alone understand, the flash of her weapon as it came down on his head. So hard it knocked all the world to black.

  fifty-three

  Four nights later, Theo was awoken by a summer storm. The lightn
ing crashed so close that the light and thunder arrived instantaneously. Theo had endured a number of nightmare flashes since the attack. Each had jolted him awake with violent intensity. Normally he saw the shooter raise his gun, the muzzle so huge it looked capable of swallowing him whole. The gunshot always woke him.

  This morning was different.

  Theo had always loved the predawn hour, ever since childhood when he and his father rose from their beds before the others and hiked the forested hills. Often the slopes were blanketed in a mist as soft as the early light. The feeling he carried today was almost as fine as those memories.

  He and his team were all active and in sync. Together they raced farther and farther along their compass headings. They looked to him for leadership, even when he did not fully understand what they were doing. He still did not have all the answers, but the puzzle was fitting itself together. He trusted them to achieve whatever was necessary. What was more, they trusted him back.

  Theo made coffee and stood in the pool house doorway, watching the curtain of water spill off the eaves. They didn’t need to leave for another hour and a half. He imagined the team up in the house, already busy with their days. Bruno had wanted to move Theo into the residence and cram his own crew in here. Theo pointed out that the idea was mildly ridiculous, four people stuffed into this studio apartment. He insisted Bruno take both the entire third floor and the vast empty garage for their guard work. Theo was becoming ever more comfortable with giving orders, and having them carried out.

  The storm passed just twenty minutes later. Five minutes more and the sky cleared enough for the sun to cast a golden veil over the morning. Theo slipped into his trunks and goggles and dove into the pool. Avery’s girls spent hours and hours in the water. Claudia called them her two noisy otters. Theo loved their company and the simple joy they found in almost every minute of the day. He had taken to swimming before they came down, stroking from end to end, reveling in the crisp morning air and the sunlit ripples.

  Only this morning was different.

  When the shadow appeared above the pool’s far end, Theo assumed it was one of Bruno’s team. They were on constant patrol twenty-four seven and gave him some fairly mild heat for remaining on his own. But Theo liked the space, liked the hours he could spend here alone, working through next steps and coming to terms with the new direction his life was taking.

  Only today it was not a guard.

  Della gasped as she lowered herself slowly down the ladder. “It’s freezing.”

  “It’s also easier if you just jump in and get it over with.”

  “Is that any way to greet a lady?”

  “Probably not.” He stripped off his goggles and set them on the pool’s edge. “Good morning.”

  “That was some storm.” She released the ladder and reached for his arm. “Swim for me.”

  He started backstroking toward the shallow end. “The idea is to get exercise for yourself.”

  “You old romantic, you.” She kissed him. They had been close like this ever since the evening after the attack. The shootout, followed by four hours spent at the police station, had rendered them both too strung out and exhausted to hold back their feelings any longer. Still, they were constantly surrounded by people and urgent work. Which meant her kisses remained very rare and very special. Theo shivered at the warm-cold taste of her lips.

  Della let go of him. “See, you’re cold too.” She stroked over to the shallow end and climbed the stairs out of the water. She knew he was watching her and smiled back down at him. “Claudia says you’re coming for breakfast in ten minutes or else she’ll send the girls down to fetch you.”

  Theo did not move until she had climbed the ridge and disappeared into the house. She was lithe as a dancer, the muscles along her back and legs clearly defined. Theo knew she had run track and hurdles through college. They had run together twice at sunset, the female guard from Guinea-Bissau tracking them the entire time. Theo loved how Della had slowed her pace so as not to show them up.

  Breakfast was served at the long counter, everyone talking loudly to be heard over the two chattering girls. Their energy was astonishing. As was Claudia’s ability to handle them with such calm ease. Theo had twice phoned Amelia and invited her to join them. She had thanked him and declined, but had agreed to bring the kids over for a swim. Theo did not consider it a wise move, Amelia staying on her own, not with the risks being so real, and no matter how good her security detail might be. But he did not press the issue.

  They planned while they ate. Later, Harper drew him aside to discuss several important items on her list. She had effectively taken over the running of their newly revived company. Preston Borders, the Washington attorney, was helping them in remarkable ways. His firm’s investigators had unearthed evidence of collusion between the competitors who had driven Theo’s company to the brink of bankruptcy. Together, Preston and Harper had filed suit in federal court, suing their opponents for fifty million dollars. Harper expected to settle within a matter of weeks.

  But this wasn’t what sparked the morning with an excitement that dwarfed the predawn storm. No one spoke about it, because there was nothing to be said really. The evidence of what was about to come shone from every face.

  Ninety minutes later, they left the compound in two rented Chevy Tahoes. Bruno drove them in the second vehicle, while the first was driven by Henri. They traveled in a convoy everywhere now. Theo did not like it but saw no point in complaining. The others followed his lead.

  The lower lawn remained gouged and torn, the graveled drive a mess. But the overturned vehicle and the bullet casings were all gone. Even so, Theo could still smell the burnt cordite. He thought the memory formed a worthy spice for what was about to happen.

  When they arrived at the Asheville airport, a third Tahoe was pulled up next to the private air terminal. Amelia and two guards emerged and followed Theo and his team toward the jet stationed closest to the entrance. Bruno and Simone, the dark-skinned woman, accompanied them. They did not speak as the jet’s engines whirred to life and they took off. Amelia did not look good. She sat hunched in the single seat next to the galley, her features tight and shadowed by exhaustion. Theo had been speaking to her every day since the attack, filling her in on developments. The whole ordeal had distressed her terribly. Not so much because Theo had been in danger, but rather because of what it might mean for Kenneth. Theo’s brother was in solitary confinement inside a federal pen. Which was about as safe as anyone could be within the penal system. Theo found a great deal of comfort in that assurance. But Amelia clearly did not share his satisfaction.

  Theo asked Amelia if she wanted a coffee. When she did not respond, he poured one for himself and slipped into the seat opposite her. Della had saved him a seat on the plane’s opposite side. He would rather be there. But this needed to be done.

  Theo said, “We’re hoping Kenny will be released this afternoon.”

  Amelia turned from her blind inspection of the clouds and the light. “For real?”

  “Tomorrow at the latest. At least that’s what Preston is saying.”

  “Why am I hearing this from you and not Preston?”

  “My guess is, Kenny didn’t want to get your hopes up. We only heard on the way to the airport.” Theo sipped his coffee and said the words that had compelled him to come and sit with her. “I owe Kenny a great debt.”

  Amelia resumed her inspection of the world beyond her window.

  “I know you think this is somehow your fault. If you hadn’t drawn Kenny into your faith, none of it would have happened.”

  “I should have known,” she said to the window. “He’s so intense about everything. So total. I should have seen this coming. It’s like pouring gasoline on an open flame. I should have—”

  “Amelia, you did the right thing. The Kenny I grew up with was . . .” Theo paused and took another drink of his coffee, searching for the right words. “Brutally competitive. I sometimes wondered what appealed to
him the most—winning, or seeing his opponents in the dust.”

  She did not give any indication she heard him at all.

  Theo went on, “He probably was involved in the opioid overdose crisis. That’s most likely what you rescued him from. You need to remember that whenever—”

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  Even so, he continued, “When Kenny came to see me, I knew instantly I was dealing with a different man. He was right to tell you not to explain when I asked. I needed to witness it from the inside. And accept the invitation behind his silence.”

  A single tear trickled down her cheek. It was the only response Theo needed to know he had been right to speak. “Kenny isn’t just a different man, Amelia. He’s a better man. He challenges me.”

  Amelia wiped her cheeks with a shaky hand. When it settled back on the table between them, Theo reached over and gripped it. Her fingers were wet from her tears. Theo said, “I’m a better man because of your husband and who he has become. And something more. I’m glad he reached out to me. Despite everything. So very, very grateful.”

  Amelia nodded. “I love him so much.”

  “I know you do,” Theo said. “And now he deserves your love.”

  fifty-four

  They landed forty-five minutes later at a private airstrip in Prince George County, Virginia. A pair of Cadillac Escalades was there to greet them. Standing beside the front vehicle was the man Theo had last seen in the windowless bowels of Dulles Airport. Martin Thorpe wore another blazer, this one slate gray with narrow black stripes, black trousers, white shirt, and black silk tie with silver dashes. He stepped forward as Theo reached the tarmac. “Good to see you again.” He shook Theo’s hand and added, “Good to see you alive.”