Viable Threat

by Julie Rowe

  Despite his tendency to irritate and flat-out make her angry, she respected him. He offered his trust first. His respect, and then he’d offered her pleasure before taking his own.

  Yes, she did trust him.

  How, in the few hours since they met, had that happened?

  Allowing herself the luxury of depending on another person was not an easy thing for her, and yet she’d done it. She hadn’t even hesitated.

  The room spun, and she bent over to combat the disorientation.

  Suck it up.

  “I don’t disagree,” she said to the other woman. “I’m concerned at the length of time it would take to create this strain. Months. It would take someone in authority and probably a lot of money to make it happen.”

  “Information,” Dr. Rodrigues said. “We need more. If you come across a lead you think deserves investigating, do it. Don’t wait for permission from me.”

  “What about the college’s court challenge?”

  “A booby-trapped door, a grenade, and a dead body will be more than enough evidence to kick that crap out of court.”

  Ava ended the call, then took in deep breaths until the dizziness passed. She walked back to the knot of men clustered around the lab door, with no good news to share.

  A door at the opposite end of the hall opened. El Paso police officer Palmer and several men wearing FBI-marked gear along with respirators strode toward them. The FBI agents nodded at Ava and River, then went around them to approach the booby-trapped door and the Homeland agents who waited next to it.

  “How are things in the city?” Ava asked Palmer. “Are people complying with the quarantine?”

  “Most are. There are always a few idiots who think it’s a license to go shopping with a crowbar instead of cash.” His tone was dry, and Ava found herself liking the man.

  “We appreciate your help,” River told him. He approached the group of men.

  “How are you doing, ma’am?” Palmer asked. “Get any sleep?”

  The question jerked her head around. Had there been a hint of innuendo in his voice? His expression didn’t show it, a combination of earnest innocence.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  His gaze turned concerned. “Ma’am, can I give you my personal cell phone number? Just in case you have any questions about the city or need a fast ride somewhere?”

  A local source of information might be very helpful. “Thank you, that’s a good idea.” She dug out her phone and handed it to him so he could enter his number.

  “How long have you lived in El Paso?”

  “All my life,” he said with pride as he handed her phone back.

  The huddle of men broke up, drawing her attention.

  River walked back to her. “They’re going to cut the wire connecting the grenade to the door.” He said it like he was asking her for permission. This was his forte, not hers.

  “Okay.”

  “They’d like us to leave the building.”

  “Why?”

  “Mostly because we’ve been blown up twice already.”

  Really? “FBI Bomb techs are superstitious?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “No one would ever admit it.” He tilted his head toward Palmer. “We’re not the only ones they want out. Homeland and Palmer have to leave, too.”

  Toland and his two buddies surprised her when they walked to the exit as River was speaking and left first. Palmer followed with Ava and River right behind, all six of them thumping down the stairs from the third floor and outside. They walked across the street, then turned to watch the building.

  “The trip wire was quite simple in its construction,” Toland added. “The lead tech has twenty years in, and has seen—”

  A punch of sound, light, and vibration knocked them all off their feet as a fireball erupted out of the side of the building.

  On the second floor.

  Chapter Eighteen

  8:47 a.m.

  Pain rushed through River’s head. He had to get up off the sand, had to stop the man who’d betrayed him. But it wasn’t sand in his nose, it was dust, and cement under his hands.

  El Paso, Texas, not the Middle East.

  River picked himself up, his weapon in his hands, to scan the area, looking for follow-up threats. A tirade ran through his head. Fucking cocksuckers. Goddamned fucking cocksuckers.

  Must have been a second booby trap or IED the FBI hadn’t seen and set off. Three more men dead, and a room full of evidence and answers gone.

  A moan and movement from Ava had River crouching over her, one hand on her shoulder keeping her in place so he could check for injuries.

  She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded, the anger roiling in his blood making it hard to speak. He didn’t want to talk; he wanted to beat the shit out of something. Someone.

  “I…what…” She blinked a few times, then glanced past him at the building they’d just left. “Again?”

  “Again,” he answered in a growl. “Three fucking times we’ve been blown up.” He grabbed her other shoulder and gave her a little shake and put his face a couple of inches from hers, his respirator bumping hers. “Are. You. Okay?”

  “I think so,” she answered absently, her gaze a little unfocused. “Oh my God, the FBI agents, they’re…”

  “Dead,” Toland said, his tone flat. He stood, staring at the flames and smoke.

  “I’m done,” River told him, striding over to snarl and shove his respirator into the other man’s face. “Done. You feel me?”

  Toland glanced at him, his eyebrows crowding low. “What?”

  “Done playing nice. I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to do or who you’re protecting, but get in my way, and I will make your entire world hurt.”

  Toland stared at him for a moment, glanced at the burning building, then said, “If anyone gets in your way, I’ll hand you the gun myself.”

  Son of a bitch. “Talk.”

  “Senator Mark Harris called in a favor.”

  “Harris?” Ava asked. “As in Ethan Harris?”

  “Yeah, his father.”

  There was a special place in hell for elitist assholes. “What did he tell you?”

  “That it was all a misunderstanding. Ethan was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the bad fortune of having the wrong roommate.”

  “When did he feed you this bullshit?” River asked.

  “Shortly after we identified Roger Squires.”

  “Jesus Christ, you’ve known this for hours?”

  Next to him, Ava began speaking rapidly, “Yes, ma’am. River, me, and the three Homeland agents are all right. The FBI agents…were still inside when the explosion occurred.”

  She listened for a moment, then said gently, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, the entire side of the building is gone.”

  The silence following her statement weighed heavily with too many souls taken too early.

  “Tell her we’re heading back to the hospital,” River said, tired, so fucking tired of the stupidity that seemed to be a disease as deadly as the one they fought. “We need to have a chat with Agents Marble and Dozer as well as Fort Bliss’s Major Ramsey.”

  Ava repeated that, then ended the call.

  Palmer stepped closer, blood dripping down the side of his head. “What can I do to help?”

  “You need to have the cut on your head looked at,” Ava told him.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s bleeding all over the place.” She pointed at his shoulder, glistening with wet blood.

  “You’re coming with Ava and me,” River ordered. He turned to Toland. “You’re going to stay here and direct the first responders. We’re going to have a chat with your supervisory agent, Dr. Rodrigues, and the base commander. You’d better hope you assholes haven’t fucked up this disaster any worse than you already have.”

  “Yeah,” Toland breathed out. “Go.”

  River grabbed Ava’s arm and herded her toward t
he CDC van. Palmer climbed into the back.

  He drove with controlled violence, his hands clenched so hard on the steering wheel he wondered if it would snap in half.

  How could anyone be so selfish or stupid that they would try to misdirect the investigation? Yet, Senator Mark Harris had done exactly that.

  If Ethan Harris was part of this series of attacks, and his father knew it, the man had just made himself an accessory after the fact in every single death that had occurred today. If he didn’t know, if Ethan lied to his father, it still didn’t justify asking investigators to ignore his son’s involvement.

  Wouldn’t a politician want to be as transparent as possible in an incident as large as the one El Paso was currently experiencing? Wouldn’t he want to be seen as impartial and fair?

  “I don’t understand,” Ava said, still sounding disoriented. “The senator’s actions make no sense to me. How does the senator asking Homeland to protect his son, even though his son may know who else was in contact with Roger Squires and his backpack of death, benefit him? He’s obstructing justice.”

  “He probably thinks he’s got the right lawyer to beat that kind of charge.”

  Behind them, Palmer snorted. “There’s always someone who thinks the rules don’t apply to them.”

  “Stupid,” Ava muttered.

  “Stupid kills,” River replied.

  They arrived at the hospital, but were redirected by military personnel not to the area the CDC were set up, but to what looked like the receiving bay for supplies, food, and equipment. Another armed soldier had them park the CDC van next to two others.

  “Dr. Rodrigues said they had a mob try to rush the decontamination area about ten minutes ago. We’re to use the staff entrance on that side of the building.”

  River parked, then shut the van’s engine off and got out. Agent Dozer waited for them at the door. That he was wearing a hazmat suit wasn’t a surprise, but the blood splattered over enough of the outside of it to make it…remarkable.

  Dozer let them in.

  “Interesting couple of hours?” River asked, eyeing the blood.

  “Almost got too interesting,” he replied. “Could have used you behind your rifle to thin out the really desperate ones. Approximately fifty people broke through the barriers around the decontamination area.” Dozer sounded tired. “As near as we can figure, there was a rumor we have a cure, a one-shot treatment or something.”

  “Casualties?” River asked.

  “Three injured when they fell and were trampled by the people behind them. A couple of shots in the air brought things to a halt, but those were some angry folks.”

  “So a mob of people rushed the CDC? Like we had a giant sign pointing to some conveniently ready injection needles they could just take? That’s ridiculous.” She stared at Dozer, her gaze tracking the blood on his suit. “This isn’t gonorrhea. If we had something, we’d be giving it to people.”

  “Who started the stampede?” River asked.

  “Good question, with no good answers.” Dozer looked at them. “Come on. Rodrigues has news.”

  He, Ava, and Palmer followed Dozer as he led them to a bank of elevators. They went up a couple of floors and got off on main.

  The doors opened to chaos.

  People were crowded into the entire space near the elevators and down the hallway in both directions. As soon as the doors opened, and they could be seen in their respirators, several of people began yelling.

  “My wife can’t breathe.”

  “My son has a fever, and he won’t wake up.”

  “Where’s the medicine?”

  “Homeland Security,” Dozer yelled, holding up his badge.

  The people closest to him moved back a few steps, and Dozer wasted no time taking advantage of the space and stepped out of the elevator.

  River followed. His rifle held in both hands seemed to give plenty of reason for the crowd to get out of the way. Holding her sample case in front of her, Ava stuck close to him.

  They entered the ER bull pen. It was full of hospital and military medical staff. Most of them were on the move, but a few were lying on narrow cots set against the walls, asleep.

  He hoped they were asleep.

  Dozer led the way to Rodrigues, who was speaking to a half-dozen people in hazmat suits.

  A nurse grabbed Palmer by the arm and made him sit on the floor. A military medic sewed up the cut on Palmer’s head. The cop gave him a thumbs-up, and River nodded in response.

  “The public needs to isolate themselves,” Rodrigues was saying. “If they’re sick, they need to stay at home, call in to the CDC hotline, and wait for a medical team to pick them up. If they’re not sick, they need to stay home and away from public places where they might come into contact with someone who is sick.”

  The six people all had their phones or tablets shoved in her face. Recording. They were reporters.

  “Meningococcal disease is highly contagious,” Rodrigues continued. “Avoid person-to-person contact. If you’re not sick, stay away from hospitals and medical clinics or anywhere people are congregating. These orders are in effect for at least the next forty-eight hours. We will continue to update the media every six hours, unless there’s a change. Thank you.”

  The reporters left with almost laughable haste.

  Because no one was laughing.

  Rodrigues waved at Dozer, Ava, and River.

  River got down to business. “It was a trap, set deliberately in advance to kill anyone investigating Roger Squires and Ethan Harris. The size of the explosion suggests…” If his team commander were asking, he wouldn’t hesitate to state his opinion, but Rodrigues wasn’t military.

  “Suggests what?” she asked.

  “Permission to speak freely?”

  “That would be refreshing,” she said, in a tone devoid of emotion.

  “I think you’ve got a fox in the henhouse.”

  Dozer laughed, probably more than Rodrigues liked, based on the severe frown she leveled at the Homeland agent.

  “I take it you agree with him?” she asked the agent.

  “Yeah,” Dozer said, the smile dying on his face. “We might have more than one.”

  “Domestic terrorism?” she asked.

  “I’ve always appreciated your ability to boil things down to the simplest denominator,” Dozer said. “And I think you’re right. Someone called in a favor before we got here. Ethan Harris was supposed to be off-limits.”

  “Someone should have told Ethan Harris about that,” Ava said.

  “Well, he’s not off-limits,” Rodrigues said flatly. “I don’t care if you have to send in the Marines. Find him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” River saluted.

  “Is there any progress on treatment?” Ava asked.

  “We won’t know until tomorrow morning. Henry is testing several antibiotics in combination. Samples of the bacteria have also gone back to the CDC in Atlanta for more testing.” She sighed, and River realized that she wasn’t as angry as he thought.

  She was fucking tired.

  “Ma’am,” Ava began hesitantly. “When was the last time you took a break?”

  “I don’t remember.” Rodrigues waved off both of them. “It’s not important. Forget about investigating the other bombing sites for now. You two need to speak with Ethan Harris’s father. Ethan is likely infected, and that makes him dangerous all by itself. We also need to know why he ran, and if he has any information about this series of attacks.”

  “You have doubts about his involvement?” River asked.

  “I’d like proof of his involvement.”

  “He’s in it up to his neck, at least peripherally, but given the amount of shit that is following him around, no, I have no doubts.”

  “I agree,” Dozer said. “Three explosions, you’re out.”

  “The court challenge?”

  “I got a call from the lawyers ten minutes ago. The case was tossed out. The other side is filing new challenges, but I
don’t think they’ll be any more likely to succeed than the first one.”

  “Do we have any law-enforcement support?” River asked.

  “Unfortunately, you two are on your own.”

  “The senator probably won’t even open his door to us,” Ava said. “We’re dressed like we work in the morgue, and we don’t have any official identification the senator is going to accept.”

  Rodrigues considered them for a moment. “What if I sent a couple of soldiers in uniform with you?”

  He’d take a meter maid. “That’ll work.”

  “I’ll call Major Ramsey and have him assign a couple of steady guys to act as your credentials.” She gave them a grim expression, already punching in a number on her cell phone. “One of you needs a working ECC device. Stay in touch.”

  She turned to wave closer several medical staff waiting a few feet away as she spoke into her phone.

  Multitasking this clusterfuck had to be a bitch.

  “You want to come with?” River asked Dozer.

  “Can’t.” He nodded at Rodrigues. “I’m her credentials.”

  There was something in Dozer’s gaze that told River the other man wasn’t there just to back up her orders.

  “Stay here while I organize that escort and get you a new Bluetooth.” Dozer strode away and into a storage closet on the other side of the bull pen.

  “I can drive,” Palmer said, on his feet again.

  River glanced at the medic, who nodded.

  “Okay, you’re on the team,” River told Palmer. “Take a minute to wipe some of the blood off. The last thing we need is some civilian taking one look at you and deciding this is the zombie apocalypse.”

  Palmer glanced at himself and grunted. “I keep a spare shirt in my car. Give me five minutes to clean up and change.”

  At River’s nod, the cop jogged out of the room.

  “How are you doing, Mouse?” River asked, keeping his voice low and his attention on Dozer.

  “I’m…okay.” She sounded hesitant.

  “Okay?” he asked. “Okay is for people who don’t know what the fuck is going on around them. You are not one of those people.”

  She looked at him, frowning. “I’m tired of getting blown up, and that’s not a phrase I ever expected to say.” She glared at the world in general. “I want to hit someone,” she said, her voice rising. “And I’m a doctor.”