He held the lantern over his head and tried to see past the edge of the tree line while he kept the shotgun at the ready in his right. But the darkness remained impenetrable. Cast by the porch light behind him his shadow stretched across the ground but fell short of the woods, as if it too was afraid to enter.
His hands and feet were beginning to get cold. His left knee ached. “Butch, get back here,” he called again, but the forest had fallen silent.
And then he saw the amber reflection from a pair of eyes glaring at him from amid the trees. They were up high, staring down at him like an owl stalking a mouse. Maybe it was just an owl, but it didn’t look like any owl he had ever seen before.
He lifted the gun and fired a shot off into the trees.
When the smoke cleared, whatever it had been was gone.
Big John turned and hobbled back to the trailer as fast as his stiff, achy legs could carry him.
Inside, he laid the lantern and the shotgun on the table. He jerked open the refrigerator and grabbed another Black Star. He popped the top and slammed half of it. With his nerves sufficiently settled, he shuffled back into the living room and sank into his easy chair once more, all thoughts of the dog and the ruckus out back already put out of his mind.
“Doris, it’s your spin,” said Pat.
“G!” Big John shouted. Against his advice, Doris guessed, “T.”
“No, I’m sorry, no Ts,” came Pat’s reply.
Big John just nodded and shook his head. Stupid bitches never learn, he thought as he slammed down the rest of the beer.
CHAPTER 54
Denver
Charlie Wiesman stared at the monitor, anxiously waiting while the latest in a series of programs he had tried continued to run. “Come on, baby. Come on,” he coaxed, rubbing the side of the CPU tower.
He picked up one of the last fries from amid the pile of grease-stained take-out sacks, pizza boxes, and Red Bull cans that littered the dining table next to his computer desk. The desk was in the dining area because the light was better and there was more space than in his apartment’s tiny bedroom. He took a bite of the fry, made an awful face, and tossed the remainder back. The oil had congealed. They had moved beyond the point of no return.
He pushed his glasses back up from the end of his nose and continued monitoring the latest program’s progress. He was getting close. He just knew it. He had been going at it for almost thirty-six hours straight, slowly worming his way deeper and deeper into GenTech’s intranet, until now he felt certain that once he managed to gain access to this current node, which had been the hardest to crack by far, he would find what he was looking for.
Getting into the system initially had been easy enough. It was amazing how many people would give out their access ID and password when called by someone who professed to work in the IT department and who needed their info to test out a new user-verification program they were installing. It really didn’t matter what the excuse was. Virtually every time, all it took for the ruse to work was to keep calling until you got a hold of someone who wasn’t all that familiar or comfortable with computer networks—most often women—and bombard them with technobabble until they gave you what you needed.
Once into the company’s intranet, Charlie had run a program that mapped out the network and then gone in search of those systems that appeared to be associated with research and development and had the most security protecting them. Those were the ones most likely to contain important company data. Once identified, he began breaking into them one by one and examining their contents. It would have been much faster if he could have used Moe, Larry, and Curly—his systems at the office—where he could have had all three processors working on different nodes at the same time, but that was strictly forbidden by the boss for any activity like the one he was currently conducting, so he was forced to tackle them one at a time.
So far, he hadn’t come across anything he thought was useful, at least not to him—just a bunch of scientific data regarding some of the drugs they produced, including the formulas and clinical trial results. If he had been an industrial hacker, it might have been of great value, but he knew it wasn’t what Carrie was looking for, so he had kept at it until he had come across the node he was trying to hack now. He had almost skipped it without even trying to access it, because the mapping program he used had identified it as an unknown processor type. Looking at the settings for the system, Charlie figured it was one of the company’s old, outdated mainframe systems that had been tied into the network during the conversion and then never removed from the network. But when he tried to access the node to see what it was, he hit a firewall. And not just any generic, off-the-shelf variety, either. This one was custom-designed, and a kick-ass one at that. Charlie had been trying to gain access for the last day and a half, without even the slightest hint of success. He had been totally stumped to the point that he was forced to ask some of his hacker friends for help. One of them said it sounded similar to one he had run across when he hacked the Department of Defense’s network prior to their upgrade and had e-mailed Charlie a copy of the program he had created to crack that one.
The first few attempts had failed, but this time, it had already run twice as long without getting kicked out, which was a good sign.
He decided to risk taking a bathroom break. He hated leaving the room while a program was still running. It seemed like every time he did, something happened while he was gone. And if he missed any information that scrolled up the screen or the system locked up on him, he would wind up wasting time having to backtrack.
He hurried down the hall, took care of his business with all possible haste, and rushed back. He was still zipping up when he returned to the dining nook only to find that—as usual—something had happened while he was gone. The screen was now filled with a menu of eight numbered items, below which the computer’s command prompt blinked patiently while it awaited his input.
He was in.
With a whoop of delight, he plopped into his chair and began his exploration of the system. He spent the next several hours downloading everything he came across that he thought might be pertinent without taking time to go through any of it. It was nearing 6:00 a.m. on the East Coast, and he didn’t want to be online when the company’s IT people started showing up to work. He worked as long as he could safely before he backed out of the system, making sure he hadn’t disrupted any of the files and removing all evidence of his intrusion from the system logs. Lastly, he inserted a small block of code that created a back door for him in case he needed to reenter the system later and then severed the connection.
Bordering on delirium but fueled by adrenaline and copious amounts of Red Bull, Charlie began the tedious task of sorting through the immense amounts of data where he would find all of the answers that he and Carrie had been searching for, although what he found was more incredible than either of them could have ever dreamed.
CHAPTER 55
After he dug through the data for over an hour, Charlie was confident he knew what had happened. It was improbable and unbelievable, and yet there it was on the monitor before him. He had waded through gigabytes of information, most of it confusing and far beyond his level of comprehension, but he felt certain there was enough hard evidence contained therein to blow the story wide open.
He grabbed the phone and dialed Carrie’s cell. It was just after seven now, and she was probably still asleep, but he couldn’t wait to tell her what he had found. This was the kind of shit that made national news. It was like Woodward and Bernstein and Watergate. It was the kind of shit that won the Pulitzer Prize, for God’s sake. It was fucking unbelievable!
There was no answer.
“Carrie!” he practically yelled into the phone as her voice mail picked up. He was so exhausted and wired and excited that he was babbling, but he couldn’t help it. “I’ve found it. I know you told me not to do it. But I couldn’t help it, and it was worth it ’cause I found it and you’re not going to believe it
. Call me as soon as you get this. I have to talk to you ASAP. Call me.”
After he hung up, he tried to think of how else to get in touch with her. He had to get the information to her as soon as possible, but there was so much of it he couldn’t send it via e-mail. The e-mail server for the paper’s network would kick it out as being too large even if he compressed it. Instead of sending it all to Carrie at once, he wrote her an e-mail summarizing what he had found and attached a couple of what he considered to be the most important files as proof. Hopefully, she would check her e-mail and phone for messages this morning and call him back. In the meantime, he would copy all of the information to a flash drive and FedEx it to her. Just to be safe, he would make another copy to take to the paper.
*
Montana
Carrie stared at her face in the mirror. It was as if she were looking at a stranger. It had been so long since she had worn makeup that she had almost forgotten what she looked like with it on. Now, standing there, eyeliner still in hand, she looked at the results and began to reconsider. Her plan was to go to the Hungry Horse Reservoir Control Station to ask if they had noticed anything unusual regarding the fish and wildlife in the area, and if she got lucky, obtain a copy of the water analysis reports for the last two years. She knew it was a long shot, but she also knew from past experience that men would do just about anything if you played them right, which meant makeup, her red V-neck sweater, and a little flirtation.
After the problems with Bret, she had done everything she could to avoid drawing attention to herself, which included eliminating makeup. She had taken steps to make herself unattractive and undesirable and therefore—in her mind—as safe as possible.
Now she was intentionally doing just the opposite. She hated what she was doing. It made her feel cheap and manipulative, but she knew her chances of success increased greatly if she played the game. And that was all that mattered to her now. More than anything, she was determined to find the answers she was searching for, and if it wound up costing her a little self-respect, then self-respect be damned.
Once finished with her makeup, she plugged in the blow dryer. She was going all out today, which meant no ponytail. She had worn her hair pulled back for as long as she had been going without makeup, but today, it was coming down. She flipped the switch, and the whistling drone of the blow dryer continued her uneasy transformation.
Across the room, the ringing of the cell phone in her purse went unheard.
CHAPTER 56
Maryland
Nathaniel Brockemeyer marched down the long mahogany and marble corridor with the steady stride and stone facade of a soldier on parade. Only the slight limp and lack of a uniform gave away the fact that he wasn’t. He opened the thick oak doors into the plush reception area and slowed just enough for Linda to inform him that the general had no visitors and was expecting him.
There was a sucking sound as the doors to the general’s office swung inward, breaking the soundproof seal on the room. The general didn’t look up from the stack of papers neatly arranged before him until Nathan had come to full attention before the desk. Neither of the men wore uniforms anymore, which might have made the formality of their behavior seem unnecessary, perhaps even pathetic to some. But to Nathan, it was a sign of mutual respect they shared for each other, even if their country had decided not to show them any of its own.
Both of them had been released from duty after the War in Iraq, the general because of his age and Nathan because he was seen as damaged goods. He had blown out his knee jumping from a rooftop in Bagdad, and it had never fully recovered. Still worse, there had been allegations of inappropriate behavior involving female prisoners in Iraq. The army had taken the easy way out, using his injury as an excuse to discharge him without having to prove anything regarding the sexual misconduct. The general had not had any difficulty finding a respectable position almost immediately, whereas Nathan, saddled with a bum knee and rumors of impropriety, had struggled to survive. In fact, had it not been for the general calling and offering him a job as an industrial security specialist, Nathan knew there was a good chance he might have followed a path of destruction similar to that of other disillusioned soldiers with nowhere else to go.
As it was, Nathan had been saved, and in an ironic twist of fate, he had even been given a chance to serve his country again, albeit in a much more covert role. He had tremendous respect and admiration for General Colquitt, who, in his eyes, had saved his life. So it was no wonder that he was willing to do anything the general asked of him without questioning.
After a few moments, the general took off his reading glasses and looked up. “Any problems with Dr. Bennett this morning?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Nathan replied. “He seemed a little nervous about the deployment from the Hawk, but during the briefing, he seemed excited about their prospects.”
“Good.” The general nodded. “I have another mission for you. I received a call from our informant yesterday. It seems that reporter is beginning to dig in places she shouldn’t. And this morning, I was notified that our intranet was breached overnight. Some very sensitive data was downloaded. The perpetrator, it seems, was quite talented. He did an admirable job of covering his tracks, but fortunately for us, we managed to track him back to the source.”
The general handed him a piece of paper with a name and address.
Nathan looked at the information, carefully memorizing it as he had been trained, and then handed it back to General Colquitt to be shredded and incinerated. Nothing that might link them to the infiltrator was to leave the office.
“A private plane is waiting for you at the airport,” the general said. “Once you have finished there, report back to me through the usual method for additional instructions.”
“Understood,” Nathan replied.
“Very well,” the general said. “You are dismissed.”
Even though it was not necessary, Nathan saluted the general and then turned and marched from the room, silently repeating Charlie Wiesman’s name and address over and over in his head.
CHAPTER 57
Montana
Kyle listened as the sheriff gave them a rundown of the leads that had come in overnight. They had been doing it long enough that it had almost become routine, but today, there was something different about the sheriff. His normally clear, gray eyes now seemed dull and flat, with dark circles beneath them as if he hadn’t slept well. The deep timbre of his voice seemed tempered with uncertainty, as if something had shaken him.
Perhaps their failure to resolve the case was finally taking its toll. It was something Kyle was well acquainted with—the gnawing guilt that slowly ate away at him with every passing day. Kyle could imagine how much worse it must have been for the sheriff. This was his jurisdiction, and it was his job to protect the people within it.
After he watched and listened to him a while longer, Kyle decided that George Greyhawk had taken on the appearance of a man haunted by something. It was an unpleasant realization. Kyle found it disturbing that the seemingly rock-solid sheriff might be starting to crumble. It reminded Kyle of other glimpses he had caught in which the sheriff’s persona had seemed to suddenly shift right in front of him, as if he had become someone else entirely. He had seen it happen outside the Joneses’ cabin when the sheriff said he sensed something wrong with the forest and then again outside of Tucker’s cabin after his disappearance.
Carrie’s comments regarding chemical or biological agents triggering hallucinogenic schizophrenia suddenly came to mind, and while Kyle wanted to dismiss it as ridiculous, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if that might be the cause for the sheriff’s odd behavior. What if the flurry of murders was being caused by a biological phenomenon that was beginning to affect the entire population of the Flathead Valley like the flu or something, only instead of feeling achy and running a fever, you gradually became delusional to the point of murder?
Kyle’s thoughts on the matter were cut short as
the telephone intercom beeped. It was the overnight operator informing them that SAC Geddes was holding.
Lewis punched up the call on the speakerphone. “Morning, JoAnne. You guys come up with anything?”
“Nothing to get your hopes up over,” she replied. Her raspy voice sounded even harsher than usual over the speakerphone. “On first pass, GenTech appears to be clean, at least on the surface. Since they’re involved in the manufacture of vaccines for chemical and bioweapons, they’re subject to intense screening and monitoring procedures for how the stuff is handled. It’s all thoroughly documented. They’ve even hired a retired four-star general to help ensure their compliance with the military’s requirements. But we’re just getting started. There could still be a big ugly hidden in their closet, and if so, we’ll find it.”
“What about the plane crash?” Lewis asked. “Is it possible that there was something hazardous onboard?”
“Don’t know about that yet,” said Geddes. “Apparently, there’s still an ongoing civil suit between GenTech and the families of the victims. Needless to say, GenTech’s officials are all being tight-lipped about it. They referred us to their lawyers. The NTSB’s official report on the incident didn’t tell us anything either. We’ve requested copies of all the NTSB’s investigation records. I’ll forward a copy of everything to you as soon as we receive them. And make sure Ms. Daniels knows she’s not to print a word of this until we clear it first. Tell her we’ll give her first shot at anything we come up with before releasing it to the press.”
Lewis looked at Kyle, who nodded and said, “I’ll call her.”
“I’ve got the lab in DC going back through all the evidence sent to them to see if they can find any traces of foreign agents in the blood samples,” Geddes continued. “The guys in the lab want you to contact the people in charge of Hungry Horse Reservoir to get copies of their water quality analysis for the last twenty-four months to see if something might have contaminated the water supply. Same for the Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks.
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