Risking the World

by Dorian Paul

  It was then Claire drew her tall slender frame up, squared her shoulders, and aimed her argument straight at Black. "But not your strain. The same genetic alteration that makes your bacillus divide so rapidly is also its chief vulnerability, and makes it die quickly outside the human body."

  "Don't listen to her."

  "Why would she lie to me?"

  "She is lying to Brown. Exaggerating the difficulty to keep him interested and prolong her existence."

  Bravo, Claire. Exactly the proper thing to do, and thus far successful. "How long can his TB survive in the atmosphere?" he asked her.

  "Under optimum conditions, a few minutes at most."

  Black huffed. "Long enough to do its job."

  "And what might that be?"

  "If Brown hasn't said, you don't need to know."

  "As you wish. We all hold secrets. Has Brown told you that he and I are in negotiations regarding Zamot?"

  The pulse throbbing in the man's neck gave him the answer. "Why would Brown care about Zamot?"

  "Because it is lethal, I have access to it, and no difficulties remain with weaponization. The Russians were well schooled when they built Zamot."

  "My TB strain will kill just as quickly."

  "Dr. Ashe," he asked, "In your opinion which would be the deadlier weapon?"

  "Zamot. Without question."

  "Don't believe her. She is full of her own importance because she worked with the great Dr. Strong, a man who believes TB can be conquered."

  "The question is not if I believe her. Does Mr. Brown? He insists I investigate your lab with her to verify your ability to handle Level 4 containment. As I understand it, your lab lacks extensive expertise in that area."

  "I know all I need to. But, by all means, have her explain it to you." Black looked directly at Claire. "And do not neglect to have her tell you how she failed to save the little girl, Leila, who was infected with my TB."

  She bit her lips and did not respond to what was clearly meant as an insult. Excellent. Perhaps she had come to appreciate the downside of being impulsive.

  As they moved away from Black, her voice became nearly inaudible and she directed her words for his ears alone. "You strike me as a brave man, but not a fool. Do you know what you're dealing with in Zamot?"

  "The deadliest microbe in the bioterrorism arsenal."

  "Exactly. And how do you propose to get it to Tivaz? If you don't know what you're doing, you'll never live to see any money, let alone spend it."

  "What do you suggest?"

  "That you take someone to help transport the virus." She exchanged an astute look with him, and he waited. "Someone who knows what she's doing in terms of Level 4 precautions."

  "She? Are you proposing to go?" Hers was a brilliant strategy to extract them both from Tivaz, but he did not yet know who Varat's sponsors were or their intent. And that was his mission. "Why should I take you?"

  "Because although they have the suits and latest equipment, only a few are experienced."

  "Dr. Black must have experience."

  "He knows the protocols, but it's a slap in his face to have Zamot upstage his TB. He'd never agree and Brown wouldn't let him go anyway."

  "And I should trust you, why?"

  "Because I'm a single woman in no man's land, and I need an ally."

  He thrilled to hear her express in his own words a willingness to roll the dice. "Right. Opportunities like Zamot come once in a lifetime. If you can help me, maybe I can do something for you, too." It was as much as he dared speak aloud. Another look passed between them. She pointed to a valve as though giving him a scientific explanation. Smart move.

  "Yes, I can help you. I've spent my career working in Level 4. It's second nature to me." Her dark green eyes speared him. "I'd have to do the transporting myself to ensure your safety. And you'd have to convince Brown you need me to get Zamot back to Tivaz."

  A whispered word now would reveal his loyalties and make them partners in the plan. Her bravery and quick wits made him want to tell her, but she was inexperienced. If she knew his identity it would put them both at greater risk. He should keep his own counsel and play things by the book. Still, he'd played by the book with Jeremy and it ended badly. In an attempt to buy himself a bit of time, he moved so they stood side by side looking at the device on the counter, facing away from Black and Red. He began to speak and she pivoted to face him.

  The unexpected movement roused Red. David only just managed to shove her aside as the knife flew between them. But that left him off balance when Red attacked and he struggled for advantage against the guard's bulk.

  "Stupid swine, stupid beast," Black shouted, kicking Red when he got there. "Not in my lab, you fool!"

  Red backed off, but glared savagely up at Claire, who stood stock-still.

  "What's going on?" Black fumed.

  "Dr. Ashe was simply explaining this device. I've no idea why Red attacked us."

  "He's gutter dung, and you're no better. I want both of you out of my lab, now. Dr. Ashe has work to do."

  "Not a problem. I shall take my leave."

  He found Claire's eyes. What passed between them was so intuitive he was taken aback. She intended to work with him, for better or worse. She was proving bloody good . . . and too bloody good looking.

  In that instant he knew his mission had changed. Revenge was only one of his objectives. Getting Claire out had become another.

  Only then did he realize he called her Claire, not Dr. Ashe. He was thinking of her far too personally.

  Chapter 5

  Seated at Brown's formally set table, Claire shielded the urge to study Tiger's face by counting the flower petals on each hand-painted Limoges plate. He presented a curious mix, a traitor without conscience set to unleash Zamot on the world, and a man who said he was on her side moments before saving her from being skewered by Red's knife. But why kid herself? The game she played was only slightly less dangerous than Black's experiments. Tiger needed her merely so he could live to enjoy his money. His actions were for the benefit of no one but himself, even if he convinced Brown to let her go with him.

  She watched Tiger pour himself another glass of Tuscan red wine from Brown's cut glass decanter. "Dr. Black's lab is impressive, but he's deceiving you. The man's progress is not as substantial as he claims."

  Brown meticulously brushed aside the breadcrumbs scattered next to his plate. "No?"

  Tiger settled back in his chair nonchalantly. "His TB strain is undeniably deadly, but he's scrambling to weaponize it."

  "Are you stalling him, Dr. Ashe?"

  The unexpected threat from Brown got her full attention. "Me? I don't have experience weaponizing anything. I'm working on the stability profile. Black's on his own with the delivery system."

  "But his TB does the job," Brown said. "Black told me you tried to save a child infected with his TB and failed."

  She swallowed her shame and rage. These men were beyond vile. "Yes, his strain is resistant to all known therapies and overwhelms the body faster than drugs can work. But Black's TB survives only a short time in the atmosphere." She saw his amethyst ring glitter in the candlelight and briefly wondered if he'd belt her again, but couldn't help adding, "Thank goodness."

  Brown paused before emphasizing, "As long as it lives long enough to infect its target –"

  "People," she corrected. "A few people. Black's TB is unlikely to start an epidemic, if that's what you're after." Before she could continue Tiger put a stop to what she knew was further recklessness on her part.

  "Quite the weapon your man's developed. A backup would seem to be in order." He pointed his index finger at Varat in silent parody of firing a pistol. "Single shot firearms are so old fashioned."

  "If you're close enough, my friend, a single bullet is all that's necessary." Brown shifted his gaze to the deadly sword hanging on the wall. "Or a single cut."

  "But you must agree that biologic weapons are intended for mass casualties." Tiger kept his manicu
red hands on the table, and inclined in Brown's direction before continuing. "If Dr. Black has a precise local target in Morocco, I grant you he may succeed. Yet I suspect your sponsors have broader aims. Otherwise why trouble themselves with the extensive set-up I witness here."

  "Don't pry, Tiger."

  "Are their pockets deep as an oil well?"

  Brown clapped his hands with more force than usual. "Mohammed, cheese, and more water."

  A tray materialized with an aged Fontina and crumbly Gorgonzola. She passed, but Tiger took his time spreading Gorgonzola on a cracker. Brown deftly cut a chunk of each cheese and made a show of sharing the last of the wine with Tiger. These two seemed in no hurry to get down to business. And perhaps because of the competitiveness and bad blood between them, they enjoyed toying with each other. Where did that leave her?

  At last Tiger said, "Time now for you to choose. I'm happy to pack my bags and go elsewhere, but I offer you first dibs on Zamot. An effort to let bygones be bygones."

  Brown flicked his wrist and rearranged his priceless loose gold watch to reveal its face, but didn't check the time. "The only reason you're approaching me is because your contacts are not confident you'll deliver. Mine trust me."

  "Money is money. Perhaps your sponsors cannot afford Zamot. Fine. Others can." Tiger paused to touch a thick linen napkin to his lips. "Suit yourself."

  Brown filled Claire's water goblet from a silver pitcher just brought in, and she reached for her glass.

  "Wait, he just poured Zamot in your glass."

  Her hand flew under the table and her heart pounded.

  Tiger threw his head back and laughed. "See. If you desire panic, Zamot's a superior choice."

  Bastards, both of them. She knew better than anybody Zamot couldn't live in water, but that didn't stop her visceral reaction.

  Ready to do business now, Brown leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "What do you propose?"

  "A simple arrangement. First we settle on price. Then you put half the sum in my account before I leave, and transfer the balance when I return with Zamot."

  "You expect me to trust you with half the money? Why should I?"

  "Because your sponsors will exact more than money if Black's TB fails." Tiger's finger slit his throat in wordless derision.

  "You don't even know who's behind this operation."

  "I have my guesses."

  "Then you're brave to dip your toe in these waters."

  "Braver still to risk my bloody life to carry Zamot back here. I want Black to accompany me."

  Damn him! She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. She'd gambled with a traitor and lost.

  "Not Black, he's not leaving this lab. Take one of his minions."

  "No. Black's the only one who understands Level 4 containment. Dr. Ashe is still teaching the basics to the remainder of his staff."

  "Then take her."

  Her head spun with the speed of the tables turning.

  "Her? You must be joking."

  "You said she's teaching Black's people."

  "Right, but you're holding her against her will. Why ever would I trust her?" Tiger asked.

  "Why not? She's helping me."

  "Merely to keep herself alive."

  "Exactly. And she'll help you too, if I send Red along."

  "No deal. I've no wish to be saddled with Red."

  "Yet you insist on half up front, before I see Zamot? Red goes to watch my investment."

  Tiger shrugged. "If I choose to kill Red, you know as well as I he would have no chance."

  "Think of him as insurance to keep the doctor in line."

  "I do not need Red."

  "Maybe not, but he's part of the deal." Brown snapped his fingers to summon Red. "Tomorrow morning you go with Dr. Ashe and Tiger."

  "Too soon," Tiger protested.

  She couldn't believe that for once she agreed with Brown. The sooner she got out the better, even if Red tagged along.

  "What's the problem, Tiger? I can arrange a funds transfer overnight."

  "My suppliers need time to position the product.

  Brown squinted. "How much time?"

  "At least three days."

  More squinting. "Two days, or no deal."

  "Done."

  Never had she witnessed such malice in the face of agreement, and every warning bell screamed inside her head.

  "Red, take Dr. Ashe to her room now. She's all yours. Show her you're boss. Just make sure she's able to function when you go with Tiger."

  She balked. Nothing was playing out like she imagined. Earlier she thought tonight's much-desired Italian dinner would be her last supper with Brown before walking out of Tivaz tomorrow with Tiger. Now, much as she hated Tiger for turning the tables on her tonight, she found herself praying he would put himself between her and Red like he did last night. But when Red wrenched her from her chair, Tiger and Brown were conferring over wire transfers and verification methods. Neither noticed how Red had to drag her out of their presence.

  On the way to her room Red massaged his thumb down the side of her breast and she choked back what she ate of Brown's Tuscan feast. She was so close to winning her freedom she tried not to focus on its potential cost, yet she could barely breathe by the time they arrived at her room. Red hurried them inside and she jerked away from him. When the door banged shut his wide stance blocked the exit and instinctively she called upon practiced movements from years of karate during college to keep a measured distance between them.

  He was twice her size and the bulging knife inside the waist of his pants argued caution. She reminded herself tonight's terms were her only chance for escape. Nothing mattered more than getting out of here. In two days she'd leave with Tiger and find a way to warn the world of the TB threat brewing in Tivaz.

  But when Red swooped in with a mad cackle she did what she'd wanted to since day one – she kicked him in the balls. When she missed the mark he shrugged it off. She spiked his foot with her high heel. He roared, gripped her arms, and snagged her to his chest. His abrasive shirt scoured a path across her cheek. She bit his neck. He bashed her to the floor and his reeking bulk on top of her knocked the wind from her lungs while his rough palms shoved up her dress and found her buttocks.

  She gulped back burning vomit. Scared as she was, he'd have to kill her before she let him rape her. She screamed in his ear, kicked, and scratched. He laughed and his foul breath assaulted her, but she kept screaming, waiting for him to put a hand over her mouth to shut her up – and then she'd bite him again.

  But he cuffed her face so hard her teeth bit empty air, and when he shoved his fingers inside her a sudden sob punctuated her screams. He ravaged her with his filthy hands, and she knew what was coming next.

  This can't be happening. Let me die first. Please God, don't let this happen. "Fuck you," she shouted in a voice she barely recognized as her own.

  Red grunted, and his pulsing arousal pressed into her belly while his fingers ripped apart her insides. She bucked. Her knee found his crotch this time and he howled . . . until he reached for his knife.

  She puked in his face and gagged on her own bile, gasping for breath, reaching for life – dizzy, dazed.

  Suddenly Red's bulk was lifted off her. His knife skittered under her cot. She strained for its handle, turned, and eyed a jungle cat riding Red's ox-wide back. His arms circled Red's neck in a chokehold, until Red rose leviathan-like to slam him against the wall. They fell on their backs, spooning like frenzied lovers, Red on top with Tiger's forearm pressed to his throat.

  A crimson stain flooded Red's coarse blue shirt. His flailing elbows stopped plowing Tiger's ribs as his hands reached to stop her, but she plunged Red's own blade under his ribs, angled the cutting edge up to his heart, and twisted sharp steel into his evil core. Blood spurted when she withdrew the knife to spike it again into his chest . . . and again . . . and again . . . as Tiger wriggled free.

  "Why in bloody hell did you do that?"

  Yo
u're next! She thrust Red's blade at his gut.

  He caught her hand. "I wanted the bastard unconscious, not dead, you bloody little fool."

  His thumb dug deep in her wrist, the knife shot from her grasp, and she watched it drop beyond her reach. "You son of a bitch!"

  "Shh. Quiet down."

  "Traitor!" She swung her free fist toward his face.

  He parried the blow, and now held both her hands. He shook her and bared his teeth. "I'm on your side. Keep quiet."

  She kicked his shins.

  "I'm not your enemy." He pinned her against him in a bear hug. "Listen to me. I work undercover for the British Government."

  What? He let go enough that she slid down onto the slippery stained floor, exhausted and uncertain.

  "You're all right. Breathe."

  Red's lifeblood stuck to her legs, her hands were thick with it. The metallic odor of the blood coupled with the stink of her own vomit made her heave.

  He pushed her head between her thighs. "Take a deep breath. Now."

  She inhaled the stench, well aware the horror within these walls would live inside her till the day she died. Which might be very soon.

  He released her head, but she felt his presence hovering over her. "Keep breathing. You're okay. Look at me."

  When she didn't he grabbed her chin and she had no choice.

  "We've got to leave." He reached a hand to help her up.

  "Don't touch me!"

  Chapter 6

  More exasperated with himself than her, he backed away. "Clean yourself up. We must leave."

  "Who are you?"

  A man who should have closed his ears to her screams and walked past her door this evening so they might walk out of Tivaz later as planned.

  "Tell me who you are."

  A sitting duck who's made a bloody hash of things. "David Ruskin, British agent."

  "Why should I believe a cunning traitor?"

  He'd been called worse, he supposed, and checked his temper. "Believe me because I'm your best hope of getting out of Tivaz alive."

  She interrogated him anew. "You were sent to rescue me?"

  "Yes." True, as far as it went. She'd made his real objective, to discover Varat's plans and inflict vengeance on him for Jeremy, all but impossible now. If she didn't kill Red he might've convinced Brown he kept the guard from damaging the goods.