“I want DARC Ops on this,” Sam said.
Jackson looked at him, nodding.
“I think we need to be all over this,” Sam said. “Our full attention.”
“I can talk with the captain.”
“Forget him. He’s an ass. Talk to Homeland Security. We need to go big here. We’re up against a small army of terrorists, and they’re already plotting the next attack. It could be anywhere. Any time. Even today.”
The room silenced once more, but this time no one was smiling.
They must have thought the day would go a lot more simply than this. They probably thought they would pop down to Louisiana, convince Sam to leave all this mess in New Orleans and then be on a flight back to D.C. the next day. They probably thought it would be over with by now and they’d be going out for beers, not plotting how they could defend the city from another biological attack.
“We’ll have to book some rooms,” Jackson said, quietly.
Hope swelled in Sam. “I know a good place.”
While Sam was discussing the merits of staying at the five-star Grand Marais with Jackson, Jasper had returned to the boardroom. He stayed at the doorway, clearing his throat. When Sam looked at him, his expression hadn’t changed. Oh, Jasper tried to hide it, alright. He bet to everyone else he looked merely worried. To Sam, it was a look of abject fear, and it chilled Sam to his core.
“What is it?” Jackson finally asked. “You look like you’ve watched someone’s cat die.”
“I bet I look like I’ve just talked to the captain.”
“Did you tell him about this?” Jackson asked, pointing to Sam’s video. The image was still paused at the sight of the man and his air monitor.
“I didn’t have to. He had some news of his own.” Jasper finally walked back to the table, sitting, before standing and pacing about the room again. “Early this morning, they raided a warehouse outside of Baton Rouge. The occupants had moved out, sloppily. It was a rushed job. The whole site is under quarantine now, even the mile radius surrounding it.”
“What did they find?”
“A cache of bio agents. Some left behind, some left in traces in empty containers. Looks like they picked up and moved their operation somewhere. The Feds don’t know where. Some of the stuff tracks back to Tulane, the same lab that was the source for the original attack. Some other stuff is from Europe. Either way, they have these weapons, out there, somewhere, floating around. And now the Feds are worried that they’ll use them.”
“Sam,” Jackson said. “What will it take? A raise? See, this is exactly why we need you.”
“Those instincts,” Tansy said.
“I don’t need a raise,” Sam said. “I just wanted a vacation.”
“Will someone get the man a fucking vacation?” Tansy cried.
“But before that, we need to make sure this town is safe.”
“Jasper,” Jackson said. “What steps are they taking to protect New Orleans?”
“Hardly any.”
“What!?”
“See?” Sam said, “This is what I’ve been up against the whole time.”
“It’s true,” Jasper said. “These guys are real slow movers down here. Crawlers. And they don’t take any outside advice at all. Though I have to admit I was on their side until Sam showed me his home movie. I don’t have his instincts, obviously.”
“None of us do.” Jackson looked at Sam. “What do you say, Sam? After we see this through, will you please come back to D.C.?”
“I’ll return,” he said. “But on my own terms.”
“Fine.”
“And my own time line,” he said, thinking immediately of Clara. “But for now, we have another time line to consider. How quickly can we mobilize an attack plan?”
“We’ll have to get more numbers,” Jackson said. “And logistics. And fucking biohazard suits.”
Next, they talked about compiling a list of possible target sites for the next attack. They split into two teams, one still on location while the other group set out to track down the connection with Tulane. There might be more suspects working there. At one point, the captain reappeared, looking like he was about to piss himself. He pulled Jasper aside and whispered something in his ear, before fleeing the room nearly as quickly. Sam watched as Jasper’s fear from before turned once again, this time to unmistakable terror. One by one, everyone else in the room stopped as they caught sight of Jasper.
This time, the look on his face was obvious.
“Gentlemen,” Jasper said. “The captain’s just had an update from one of the Fed researchers. There’s a rumor that the terrorists may have access to VX.”
Fucking hell. If that went off, they were dead men walking.
VX had been developed by the United Kingdom in the 1950s, and had been traded to their own country in exchange for information on the hydrogen bomb. The most potent nerve gas known to man, VX was completely odorless and tasteless, with a fatal dose of just ten milligrams. Its chemical composition made it nearly indestructible, and it could stick to any surface it touched for months, even in rain.
“Wasn’t it supposed to be destroyed?” Matthias asked.
“We said we did,” Jackson answered. “But so did Russia and Iraq, and so of course it still exists somewhere in the government’s basement.”
“Antidote?” Jackson barked.
“Atropine,” Jasper nearly whispered. “And diazepam for the seizures. But it has to be injected immediately upon exposure, and if you haven’t been exposed, the antidote could kill you anyway.”
They were all completely fucked.
“It’ll be aerosoled,” Tansy said. “I hate to even think like them, but that’s the most efficient way to kill thousands of people. You wouldn’t need a lot. Get it into the air and a backpack full would be enough to wipe out the city, maybe even the state or further.”
Sam was almost numb. First, he’d been surprised as hell to see the guys, then surprised again when they’d stood beside him, ready to back him up. “Our first priority,” said Jackson, “is predicting where they’ll attack. Jasper, what have we got on that from the captain?”
Jasper had slumped into a chair. “Nothing.”
“What the fuck?” Sam almost yelled it. Could the captain really be that stupid?
“It’s just a rumor, for now.” Jasper rubbed at his brow. “The Feds are looking into it, but no one’s mobilizing. No one’s changing any plans of attack.”
“Fuck that. I can run some simulations on this,” Tansy was already typing furiously on the laptop he’d just taken out of his courier bag.
“Run it, and do it yesterday,” Jackson said. “We’ll also need a human angle, someone who lives in the area.”
Matthias asked quietly, “You think they’d attack again in the same area?”
As the questions and comments began flooding the once-quiet boardroom, Sam felt his phone vibrate his pocket. He reached for it and read the screen. It was a text from Clara.
Aren’t you coming?
Holy fuck . . . He’d forgotten about Molly’s Christmas parade. The surprise of the guys showing up, then the worst surprise of his life fifteen minutes ago . . . he’d slipped right back into the workaholic from D.C., the world-saver.
And then he thought of Molly, Molly in her gaudy little Christmas outfit. Her walking in front of a float with her friends, with huge crowds of spectators, with her mom. His chest got tight with worry. So tight he could barely breathe. His palms sweated.
That was it.
Hundreds of happy families, lining the streets in tight, celebratory bunches, waving as the local stars and officials made their way down the road on colorful floats.
The Christmas parade. That was the target.
23
Clara
She had gotten there early to drop Molly off, wrestling to contain the little girl’s excitement and her nervousness for her big day. Her little goblin’s recent mood swings had been almost intolerable. Clara almost relish
ed the time when she could just be in the parade and actually made to do something productive instead of driving her mom crazy.
It was so much quieter without her now, Clara standing alone on a curb in front of a closed-off downtown street. So quiet and calm. And in the quiet, she felt the flip side of having Molly somewhere else. She felt worry. Especially after the events of last week, Clara had grown to not trust things. She’d become more nervous about crowds and big events, but was trying so hard not to let it show to Molly. It wasn’t worth it to pass on her anxieties. It was some sort of PTSD, she was sure. She’d get over it. She’d go see someone, have it looked at someday. But for now, she needed to toughen up. She had to at least try to trust again, to not expect the worst in every situation.
But that would be a lot fucking easier if Sam were there with her.
And he knew that.
So where the hell was he?
Gripping her cell firmly in her hand, she nearly dropped it in relief when it finally rang. She answered without even looking at it, ready to ask how long it would take him get down to the parade. It was set to start in less than half an hour.
“Hey,” she said, taking her time to get right into it. She didn’t want an argument. They had been too close to those in the last twenty-four hours. There had been something different about Sam, a change since their night at the hotel. He’d been distant, preoccupied. Working, yes. Maybe this was how he’d always worked. She’d never seen him in action before.
“Clara, it’s me. It’s Vivian.”
For a second, the word, the sound, made no sense to her. She could only think of Sam, and she needed him there.
“Vivian?” she said slowly, her mind taking its time to work and remember who the hell Vivian was. “Oh,” she said. “Vivian, yeah, hi.”
“Hi, Clara, how are you feeling?”
“I feel . . . normal.” She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. It was hardly true. Despite her now complete recovery from the exposure, Clara was feeling extremely not normal today. She was a nervous fucking wreck.
“God, I feel so bad,” Vivian said. “I mean, I’m just so lucky that I didn’t come down with any of the symptoms. It’s like survivor’s guilt.”
Clara tried to laugh it off. “Well, we all survived, so, we’re all feeling guilty.”
“Yeah, but you were really sick. I just got lucky.”
Clara watched two police officers walking down the center line of the road. “Yeah,” she said.
“What it did do was it gave me some time, while you were in the hospital, to go over your case with Kurt. I felt it was the least I could do.”
“Oh, Vivian, no. You’ve already done so much. You’ve been so helpful.”
“Well, thanks,” Vivian said. But her voice was sounding a little strange now. “Um . . .”
“What is it?” Clara felt the vague sense of dread, like she was on the verge of hearing some really bad news.
“Clara, I just came across some new information.”
“Bad information?”
“Well, just . . . information. You know Kurt was arrested again, right?”
“Yeah.”
“They had him in the downtown jail.”
“Okay.”
“Well, um, my friend is a bail bondsman. And apparently Kurt got bailed out an hour ago.”
“What?” Kurt always had an air of danger around him, even when things had gotten bad when they were still married. But now there was more. An unknown, a scary one, too. Scary, especially now with him on drugs, and his head probably all fucked up, and having just been released a few blocks away.
Vivian spoke again. “He was in the downtown jail. And I know you’re probably there with Molly, right?”
“Yeah, she’s in the parade.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“But he doesn’t know that. Right? How would he know that?”
“Well, I’m sure he doesn’t. But he’ll be in your area. On foot.”
The words sent chills down Clara’s spine. Him, on foot. Creeping around. The smell of prison and crack smoke probably still on him. And he was coming around to what was supposed to be Clara and Molly’s special day. An innocent little Christmas parade. What a fucking nightmare . . .
“So I just wanted to give you a heads-up,” Vivian said. “Okay?”
“Thanks, Vivian.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m not too worried.” Big-time lie. “I’m just . . . I’m just thankful for the heads-up. And everything else you’ve done. You’ve been so amazing.”
“Is Sam with you?”
Clara looked around the crowd for a moment, not seeing a single familiar face. “Uh . . . Yeah.”
“Oh. Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about, then.”
“Yeah.”
24
Sam
Better safe than sorry. Better safe than fucking dead. That was the philosophy behind their piling into a big, unmarked van, making a quick stop to pick up their tools and toys, and then heading over to the parade route. The best-case scenario, the safest case, would be for the parade to be shut down. Sam had argued for that, having Jackson even call up the captain, and then mayor, with his clout and concerns. But nothing could be done. In the minds of city officials, suspending the parade because of a simple rumor would do more harm than good. It might create panic, they said.
Sam would give them something else to fucking panic about. He’d seen the result firsthand last week, and this time people would die right in front of him.
The mayor’s people said it might get people trampled.
No one had gotten trampled at the courthouse. He’d seen many people collapse, though, on the ground with their faces loose with death, their lungs filling with liquid. This time, there wasn’t anything paramedics would be able to do.
“Dave,” Sam said on his phone, “Can you do me a favor?”
“Another one?” His voice was lazy and sleep-filled.
“Can you head down to the parade, find Clara? We’re stuck in traffic and I just found out that Kurt is on the loose.” He wasn’t about to tell Dave the truth. Not unless he wanted to blow the man’s psyche entirely.
Jackson was calling his name.
“Okay, Dave?”
Jackson said, “Sam, we’ve gotta talk.”
“Dave? You’re not wasted, are you?”
“Maybe I am,” he said.
“Sam, let’s go,” Jackson said. “They’re not shutting it down.”
“Who else can we call?” Sam asked, after hanging up on Drunk Dave.
“Forget it. The parade’s going on.”
“Get me there, as fast as you can. We’ll have to find them on our own.”
“Tansy,” Jackson yelled to the front of the van, to the driver. “Start blowing some red lights.”
“I’ve already blown three.”
“Blow three more. We’ve got to get there in five minutes.”
On any normal day, the route would take five minutes. But today, the holiday weekend, the parade weekend, it was a different story. There was a huge crowd gathered, cars parked in every open spot. On top of all this, they had a whole route of roads closed to cut off their approach.
“So much for your vacation,” Jackson said to Sam.
From the front of the van they heard Tansy swearing.
“What is it?”
“Fucking traffic. We’re jammed up!”
The van had come to a halt a moment ago, and there had been no progress. The men in the van struggled and craned their necks to look out the windows, and Sam struggled to come to grips with the reality that they might not make it in time to the parade.
“Fuck!”
“Open the back door!” Tansy yelled.
“What?” said Jackson. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
As soon as Jackson slid the door open, the distant sound of protest chants came wafting in.
“It’s those damn protesters again.”
Sam said. “They’ve been at it all week.”
The van still wasn’t moving. Tansy jumped up from the driver’s seat and poured his large body into the back of the van, digging around in their equipment boxes. “Matt, take the wheel.”
“What the hell are you doing back here?” Jackson asked.
A few more weapons dropped to the floor before Tansy appeared with a small helicopter. It looked like a children’s toy.
“Boys,” Tansy spoke. “Meet my drone. I’ll fly him ahead and give us the bird’s-eye view of exactly what the hell is going on down there.”
After letting his new toy out the van’s door, Tansy jumped back into the front passenger’s seat, expertly manipulating the controls in his lap, while Matthias pushed the van up onto the curb, nearly side-swiping a few illegally parked cars. Fuck it. Today, they deserved it. Sam sat back, his eyes glued to a screen again, but this time so were everyone else’s. The drone flew over the crowd. God, they were really packed in. The perfect target. Now he just had to find the men from the other video. They were there somewhere. They had to be. And this time, Sam knew what to look for from the beginning.
He pulled out his phone, and without looking away from the tiny computer screen Tansy had balanced on the dash, speed-dialed Clara. Her phone had been busy all morning, since her message earlier. When she answered this time, he did nothing to disguise the worry in his voice.
“Clara, what’s going on there?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Is everything normal?” His mind was racing too fast to talk properly, to say anything sensible. Clara, in turn, answered his questions, but her voice was strange sounding. Distant. Foreign. Scared.
“Sam? What’s going on? Why are you asking me all this?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t worth scaring the shit out of her. It could have just been a false alarm.
“Is this about Kurt?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I got a call from Vivian. She said he just got released an hour ago. He’s downtown somewhere, walking around.”
“Jesus Christ.”
DARC Ops: The Complete Series Page 103