BioKill

by Handley, Stuart

  “Have to agree with you there. It does seem unlikely they would know more about our own people than we do….”

  “There’s more. Director Lopez has referred to her son by two different names. She said Roddy to me and Robby to Evangeline.”

  “I see where you’re heading… maybe she doesn’t even have a son?”

  Lilburn felt uneasy. “It’s looking more and more likely Lopez wasn’t being blackmailed into cooperating with the enemy but colluded with them of her own free will. When Evangeline discovered Lopez in the women’s toilets on the phone, she didn’t sound to her like someone who was being forced to do something, not subservient at all. We think…” The words didn’t come easy. “We think Lopez is part of their régime or at least sympathetic to it.”

  “Jesus wept.” The director ran his thumb and forefinger over his forehead. “This sounds very fucking conclusive that we have a traitor within our ranks. And not just any traitor — but a senior one with access to some very sensitive information. CHRIST!” Hall rose from his chair and went over to the window overlooking the grounds.

  Lilburn couldn’t see Hall’s face, but he was pretty sure it would show disbelief. He was also sure that when the director turned around it would be with a look as hard as stone, having already resiled to the fact that what he had just heard may be true.

  He was right.

  Hall abruptly turned around and strode back to his desk. Before sitting down he took a manila folder from one of the drawers and flung it down on the desk. Without uttering a word or looking at Lilburn, he took out a pipe and a tin of tobacco from another drawer. Lilburn watched as the director loaded his pipe then struck a match. Biting down on its stem he gave a few loud sucks; the flame from the match flickered down into the bowl with every draw of breath. Once the pipe was satisfactorily alight, Hall settled into a slow methodic cool puff. Picking up the folder he opened it, settled on a particular page then swung it around to face Lilburn. “Take a look at that. It’s Lopez’s file. A third of the way down the page you’ll see she’s had involvement with the Cerros Project.”

  Lilburn studied the page. “I don’t know anything about the Cerros Project, sir.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. It was on a need-to-know basis, a Special Access Program. The Cerros Project was carried out in the late nineties, all very top secret. No one outside a select few were to know about that program. You’ll notice the report doesn’t mention what the Cerros Project is actually about. You won’t find any written documentation unless you have SSBI — Single Scope Background Investigation – in other words, top secret clearance. So what I’m about to tell you stays within these walls. You may know that in 1973, a year after the international treaty for the Biological Weapons Convention, our Biological Warfare Program shut down. What you won’t know is that we developed what you could basically call a foot-and-mouth bomb. A weapon that could release a viable virus into the air, similar to an air-burst HE bomb. That was the Cerros Project. The person who headed that project was Dr. Ian Bradley.”

  “The same one Dr. Crawston knew at Plum Island?”

  “One and the same. Now this is where what you’ve just told me about Lopez links in and gives a hell of a lot of credence to your gut feelings. In her file, the part you wouldn’t normally get to see, an assumption is made… not fact, an assumption. One of Lopez’s superiors thought she was having an affair with Bradley.”

  “So now we have a possible link with Lopez and the scientist who recently died.”

  “Not only the one who died, but the one with expert knowledge of the virus.” Hall held out his hand for the file, Lilburn handed it over.

  “Did he really die of… what was it? A heart attack? Or maybe it wasn’t a natural death.”

  “So you’ll pull Lopez in?”

  Hall sat back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. The tobacco had stopped burning. He took a second match and relit the pipe. “No. No… don’t think I will. We have her on twenty-four-hour physical and electronic surveillance; whatever she does, whatever she says, is all recorded. I’ll leave that in place. No, what I intend to do is have you take the lead. For the moment I want your investigation to be separate; you do what you have to. I want hard evidence that Lopez is what you say she is. Let’s give the bitch some rope and see what she does with it.” Hall smiled. To Lilburn it was as if Hall had just drawn up a game plan in his head, one he was confident of winning.

  “I’ll have to renege on that offer of R&R — instead I’d like you on this right away. Anything you want or require, contact me directly, no one else is to know. Are we clear on that?”

  “Yes, sir, loud and clear.”

  “A couple of things before you go. For the time being your involvement in this new operation is strictly between you and me, no one else. I realize Dr. Crawston has some involvement so if you would convey to her the secrecy required in this matter. Her flight leaves tomorrow from JFK — see my secretary for flight times.” Hall stood up and extended a hand. The meeting was over.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Matt Lilburn returned to the Twenty Horse Inn driving a Jeep Wrangler, duly signed for in front of a particularly pedantic car pool manager at Homeland Security. Lilburn was left in no doubt that the officer wanted the vehicle back in perfect condition. He refrained from retaliating, preferring to smile at the pot-bellied buffoon. As soon as he handed back the clipboard with his signature emblazoned on the vehicle loan papers, Lilburn eased himself into the driver’s seat, turned on the ignition, adjusted the rear-vision mirror and held up his hand to wave. Which lasted all of about one second before he clenched all his fingers into a fist, bar his middle finger, which stuck straight up. As Lilburn planted his foot to the floor the tires spun, sending up a plume of smoke. The horrified manager watched the Jeep Wrangler doing a burn-out while being flipped the bird by its driver.

  It was just after lunchtime when the Jeep edged into the parking bay outside his motel unit. The refrigerator inside the unit would be bare, so he walked down to number fifteen, looking for Evangeline. There were a few things to discuss with her about Lopez. With less than a day left before she flew back to London, he needed to make the most of her expertise. He knocked on the door.

  “Why, hello, stranger.”

  “Stranger be blowed.”

  “Later, big boy. So how did your meeting with Director Hall go?”

  “He was concerned at what we had to say, so much so I’ve been asked to investigate. Hall already has Lopez on twenty-four-hour surveillance, so it looks as if we were just confirming his suspicions.”

  “It must be hard for him to accept a colleague has betrayed him.”

  “Yeah. He’s worked with her for a few years. I don’t think that they were ever bosom buddies, but nevertheless…”

  “Would you like a cup of tea? Sometimes I need a good cuppa — it must be a heritage thing.” Evangeline rummaged in the wicker basket on top of her kitchen top. “I do have one of America’s finest tea bags.”

  “Try me. Black, no sugar.”

  Lilburn sat at the breakfast bar while Evangeline made tea. He wasn’t exactly salivating at the thought. He stared at his cup for a short time before taking a sip. “Interesting…” He put the cup down and pushed it to one side. “I’ll take you to JFK tomorrow.”

  “Now that’s very sweet of you, but quite unnecessary. You’ll have more than enough to do with your investigation.”

  “What say you come with me to visit Lopez, then tomorrow we leave a few hours early and visit Plum Island on the way to JFK? I have a couple of leads I need to look into and I’d appreciate your input.”

  “That sounds just perfect as long as…”

  “Yeah?”

  “As long as you keep this evening free…”

  “That’s the building.”

  Lilburn looked through the driver’s side window and across the road to a tall block of apartments. Less than one half mile south was Homeland. “So you reckon those bunch of flowers will
do the trick?”

  “Think like a woman for a change — you could achieve wonders!”

  Lilburn waited for Evangeline before crossing the road together. He glanced around the other buildings in the vicinity, wondering which harbored the surveillance teams. Having been on more stakeouts than he liked to remember, he was more than happy to be the one being watched. “Smile for the cameras, sweetheart, they’ll be clicking their little shutters off right now.”

  Evangeline led the way. Inside a lift took them up two levels to a well-lit hallway.

  “You locked and loaded?” asked Lilburn.

  Evangeline took in a deep breath and knocked.

  Door peep-holes had always intrigued Lilburn. You never knew when the person behind the door was looking through. Do you smile? For how long? Do you look away, perhaps move to the side so you can’t be seen or stare straight at it? Thankfully the sound of a chain could be heard then shortly after the door opened. Evangeline held the flowers in front of her and greeted Lopez.

  “Hello, Suzanna. Matt and I thought you might like these.”

  “They’re beautiful.” Suzanna kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Special Agent Lilburn, thank you so much. Come in.” Lopez shut the door once they had entered the apartment. “I love the quaint pink color and… You know what? I don’t have the faintest idea what they are. Matt, do you know?”

  Informality from a congenial Lopez wasn’t what Lilburn had anticipated. Neither was the question. Evangeline came to the rescue. “They’re peonies. Did you know the peony is the traditional floral symbol of China, and known as the emperor of flowers?”

  “Really! You’re quite something aren’t you? Is there anything you don’t know?”

  Before Evangeline had a chance to react to the hidden barb, Lopez had bustled ahead into the kitchen. “Let me put these in water.”

  Evangeline acted as if she hadn’t heard. “Cut the bottom of the stems off, just a little. It will help them take up the nutrients in the water.”

  Good girl, thought Lilburn. He wasn’t here to interrogate, he was here to watch the game. The game where subtle nuances of speech and body language could be as productive as sitting in a confessional; while it might not be admissible in court, it could provide an understanding, a lead.

  “How are you holding up?” asked Lilburn.

  Lopez placed the vase of flowers on the dining room table, centering the arrangement. “Call me Suzanna, Matt. We all know my career is over. No point in being formal anymore now is there.” She gave an awkward smile then looked to the table top. Lilburn could see her biting her lip. “Please sit down. Coffee?”

  Placing two cups of freshly made espresso on the table in front of her guests, Lopez reached for a packet of cigarettes and her coffee. Opening the sliding door off the dining area she stepped out onto a small balcony with a wrought iron balustrade. Apart from a small round wooden outdoor table, upon which she placed her coffee cup, the space was empty. She lit a cigarette and stared out over the surrounding buildings. “You know, one of the reasons I rented this place was because I could see Homeland from here. I would watch people on the street below going about their day, totally oblivious to what went on in those buildings.” She drew in hard on the cigarette and held the smoke before releasing it in a heavy exhale. She turned to her guests sitting at the table just inside the door. “I’d like to see that photo of us.”

  “Photo?” replied Lilburn. He instinctively knew what was coming.

  “Look over my left shoulder, the building opposite, slightly larger than this one. Top floor, window with the curtain partly closed; surveillance.” She shrugged. “It was to be expected and I expect to be severely punished.”

  “We’re not here to judge you, Suzanna,” said Evangeline. “We understand they have your child.”

  Lilburn saw his chance. “Have you heard anything more about Roddy?”

  “No, I haven’t. I pray Robby is still alive. I pray for him.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Sorry, sorry.” Suzanna stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray, picked up her coffee and shut the sliding door behind her.

  Lilburn felt no sympathy; she was responsible for the murder of a number of people. The son was just another lie. “Suzanna, we understand… but I thought your son was Roddy?”

  “No, no. It’s Robby. Roddy is my brother.”

  Mistakenly calling the child by her brother’s name could have been just that; a mistake. Lilburn assumed the apartment was bugged and right now someone was looking up her brother’s name. He also assumed it would be Roddy. Lopez was smart, she knew there was visual surveillance on her and she would expect electronic measures in place as well.

  “Matt, I asked you once before.” Stubbing out her cigarette, Lopez pushed her hands forward over the table and placed them on top of Lilburn’s. “Please help me get my son back alive.”

  Lilburn fought the urge to pull back his hands. “Of course, but you need to help me. I have nothing to go on. I need to know everything, how you were approached, interactions you had with the cell. Your son’s adoptive parents’ names. Everything.”

  “Thank you so much, Matt. Thank you so very much.”

  For the next half hour Lopez volunteered information. Lilburn wrote down what she said, privately awed at the detail to which Lopez went. He was also aware he was sitting in front of a mistress of deceit. Her body language gave away nothing. The adoption was unofficial — of course — and there were no official records. Lopez had answered an advertisement on the Net for discreet private adoptions. Discretion and anonymity assured, the advertisement had supposedly read. Just what an upwardly mobile single professional woman required. To Lilburn this begged the question. “So how did the Takfir know you had a son?”

  Her answer elegantly simple. And impossible to disprove. “I don’t know.”

  Lilburn tapped his pen on the pad. What could he say, what would be the catalyst to catch Lopez out? The pen stopped tapping. “So what do you know about the death of Ian Bradley?”

  Lopez was just about to sip of her second coffee when she heard the name. There was the slightest, almost unnoticeable, hesitation before the cup reached her lips.

  “I don’t know an Ian Bradley. Who is… or was he?”

  “Have you ever been to Plum Island?”

  “Briefly, quite a while ago now, eight, nine, ten years. I can’t recall exactly. It will be on my record, I went there with the Secret Service. A group of us were given a tour of the site.”

  “That was about the time I worked there,” said Evangeline. “We might have seen each other.”

  “It can be a small world,” replied Lopez. “And this man, Ian…”

  “Bradley.”

  “Ian Bradley, who is he?” Lilburn could see the measure of control it took for Lopez to mention his name.

  “Until recently he worked as a doctor in the Animal Disease Center.”

  Lopez sat back in her chair. She grabbed her cigarette packet and shook one out then toyed with it in her fingers. They were trembling, ever so slightly.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Lilburn saw an opening, a crack in her armor. He pushed on. “Any time now someone will be coming through that door and they’ll start with ‘Anything you say may be taken down and used…’ Tell me. If you know anything about the death of Ian Bradley… tell me.”

  Lopez stood up, grabbed a lighter and lit her cigarette. She stood there and faced the door, her back to Lilburn. Turning around she looked to Lilburn, who also rose to his feet. “They think I’m making this up, don’t they?” She took a forceful drag on the cigarette. “They don’t believe me.” She started getting agitated, looking wildly around. She saw Evangeline looking up at her. “You don’t believe me either!” Her voice grew louder. “I’m telling the truth… I’m telling the fucking truth! YOU HEAR THAT, ALLAN HALL?” Furious, Lopez shouted at the walls, the ceiling — she didn’t know where the listening devices were but knew they could hear every word. ‘YOU CAN ALL
GO TO FUCKING HELL… You can all go… to… fucking…” Lopez slumped into her chair and buried her head in her hands and started to sob.

  Evangeline moved around the table and placed an arm over Lopez’s shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me! I don’t want your fucking sanctimonious sympathy! Yes, I told the cell where to go, how to avoid getting caught. So put me before the firing squad.” She laughed bitterly, then took another drag. “Get the fuck out of my place. Go!”

  Evangeline jumped back, as if she’d been scalded. Lilburn held out his hand. “Let’s go.” The two walked to the door, then Evangeline turned — her voice soft.

  “I’m sorry, Suzanna. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

  Lilburn opened the door to the hallway and guided Evangeline through. Looking back towards the balcony he saw a broken woman. He also saw a traitor.

  *

  The Jeep Wrangler made its way back to the motel, its occupants bereft of conversation until it came to a halt outside Lilburn’s unit.

  “Do you still believe she’s lying?”

  Lilburn sighed. Retaining his grasp on the steering wheel, he looked straight ahead. “You know, I knew a schoolteacher once, knew a thing or two. She said there were always two sides to the story. You hear one kid say, ‘Yeah, Billy hit me three times, Miss’, then you hear Billy’s story, the complete opposite. Do I believe Lopez… let’s just say I’ll need a whole lot more convincing before I do. When I asked her about Ian Bradley, she hit the roof — and pretty much told me she was lying. Now I want to find out why. If she had our boys killed then I’ll meet her head on.”

  They both stepped out of the vehicle. “It’s your last night here, so what do you want to do, Doc?”

  Placing a hand lightly on his chest, Evangeline looked up at him. “Give me some time to lie down. I’ll come over in about an hour or so.”

  Lilburn watched her elegant back as she walked to her unit. He would miss her.

  *