The Devil's Vial

by Brumbaugh,Byron

  Richard came out of his reverie and looked at the room around him. There were no windows, of course. It was on the sub-basement “B” floor. But there was the bed, a leather padded easy chair to sit in, and a cabinet with linen, underwear, and comfortable clothes in its drawers. Off to one side was a door leading off to a bathroom with toilet, sink, shower, towels and other necessities for his personal hygiene. There were also cameras that watched. And unlike the other room, these were out in the open. He couldn’t see them, but he was sure there were also bugs that could listen.

  He thought about what he saw in the floors below. A state-of-the-art virology lab. He didn’t have time to assess what equipment they had down there, but it looked impressive. They probably had gene sequencers, machines to analyze glycoprotein viral coating, and electron microscopes. And, of course, media to grow viral cultures and equipment to analyze and mass produce viral vaccines. He was very much looking forward to the tour Todd promised him.

  Richard’s mind wandered to the vial. He didn’t have time to put it in a secure hiding place. As long as Todd thought he had the vial, Richard was pretty sure Todd wouldn’t find it. But, when he found out he didn’t have it, how long would it take them to find the real vial? If Richard tried to retrieve it and put it in a better place, he just might unintentionally show them where it was. Besides, where was a better place to hide it? No, he was better off leaving it where it was – at least for now.

  Richard stood and looked around his room again. He decided he would test his conclusion about the existence of bugs. “Martin,” he called in a normal voice. “Have you heard anything about how Oscar is doing? Is it possible for me to talk to him?” Richard waited silently for a response. There was none. “Are you there? You can hear me, can’t you?” He looked around the room, hoping to see some kind of reaction. There was none. “Martin, I know you’re there. Answer me. How‘s Oscar?”

  The lock to his door clicked, the door opened and Martin stood in the doorway. His facial expression was studiously blank, his voice empty of emotion as he said, “Oscar’s spleen was ruptured. He lost a lot of blood. They took him to surgery and removed his spleen. He’s getting blood transfusions now. He’s unconscious, but resting comfortably. The doctors say his prognosis is good. More than that, you’ll have to wait for Dr. Todd to return.”

  Richard relaxed a bit. He was sure that Martin was telling the truth. At least that disaster was avoided; for now. “What time is it anyway? I can’t tell if it’s night or day down in this hole.”

  “It’s ten PM, Thursday night.”

  So, he’d been there for about a day and a half. “Could I have a clock, just so I can track the passage of time?”

  “I’ll see you get one.”

  “Is it possible for me to talk to Oscar when he awakens? Can I talk to the doctors that are caring for him?”

  “That’s not possible at this time.”

  Richard looked at Martin standing there, stiff and tall. “How did you get involved in this?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.

  Martin looked at him without saying anything.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure what you’re entitled to say is limited. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

  Martin grunted.

  “I really don’t know what’s going on here. Do you think what Todd is trying to do is right? You must, I guess, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m hired for security. I’m not paid to question the plans of my superiors. Your questions will have to wait for Dr. Todd’s return.”

  “Do you have any idea when he’ll be back?”

  “He’s due back tomorrow evening. In the meantime, I suggest you relax and try to be patient.” Martin turned to leave, pulling the door behind him.

  “Are you angry with me? Have I offended you on some way?”

  Martin paused and turned back, taking a few steps to face Richard. He rolled his shoulders and stared into Richard‘s eyes, inches away. “You have been one royal pain in the ass. What should have been a quick and easy retrieval of lost property turned into a fiasco that has embarrassed me professionally. By all rights, you should be dead. My superiors have directed that you should be treated as a guest, for now. I will do as I am instructed. But those instructions can change. And if and when they do, I’ll be ready.” He punctuated that last statement with a persistent stare. Then he turned and left, locking the door behind him.

  Whoa, thought Richard. He’s not going to take kindly to a compassionate approach.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As Alex maneuvered the Hawker around on the taxiways toward the Swissport FBO at Worcester Airport, Emily walked back into the cabin and checked on Todd. “He’s sleeping comfortably,” she called back to Alex.

  “Can you rouse him?”

  “Easily. He wants to know what’s going on.”

  “Give him another dose. We have to give him enough so he appears very drunk, but not so much he can’t walk with some help and support from us. He has to be schnockered enough, he can’t raise an alarm.”

  After a few moments, Emily came back up to the cockpit and sat in the right seat. “All set,” she said. The way she said it sounded like she was having a great time. Alex, too, felt elated the flight went off without a hitch. But they weren’t done yet.

  “Pull out the Shut-Down check list and let’s get out of here. Everything has gone well so far. Let’s not give providence a chance to screw things up,” he said.

  Swissport was expecting them; they called ahead, asking for fuel while they were still in the air. They also asked for a wheelchair to be brought to the plane for an inebriated passenger. As soon as they shut down, Emily opened the exit door, then helped Alex heft Todd. Alex moved in front with his arms under Todd’s armpits and wrapped around his back. Once up, Todd stumbled forward, leaning heavily on Alex. The tough part was getting him down the stairs that were part of the exit door - there just wasn’t enough room to maneuver. Emily supported Todd from the back while Alex went down the four steps in the door. Alex then reached up and grabbed Todd as he fell out of the plane. “Whoa!” said Todd as he lurched forward into Alex‘s arms. “Tha’ was fun!” Two ground crewmen were there with a wheelchair. They helped keep Alex from falling from the dead weight.

  “Rich people,” said Alex, casting a look at the ground crew. “They can’t hold their liquor. Especially when they don’t like to fly.” The two men grunted in understanding and helped Alex settle Todd into the wheelchair. Todd passed out as soon as he was down

  “Is our limo here?” asked Emily.

  “Yeah, it’s out front. Boy, this guy is really three sheets to the wind, isn’t he?” The crewman shook his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve been that shit-faced.”

  Alex smiled and pushed the wheelchair and Todd through the door into the FBO. As they rolled past the desk, he called over his shoulder to the girl working there. “Full fuel in the wings, nothing in the tail. We have to help get this guy where he’s going. We’ll give you a call with anything else we need after we get him settled.” He held his breath, hoping he sounded casual. Just a few steps and they would be out of there.

  “How long are you going to stay?”

  “At least a couple of days. We’ll let you know.”

  Outside, holding the door open, stood Doug dressed in a chauffer’s uniform; a long black limo sat at the curb behind him. They manipulated Todd’s limp body into the car where he flopped with his head leaning back on the seat. Alex and Emily got in the back with him, Doug went around front to drive.

  “Hey, thanks for the help, guys,” Alex said as the ground crew closed the back door. They waved as the limo pulled away from the curb. Alex let out a long breath.

  “How long will it take before the company that owns the plane will find it?” asked Doug as they pulled onto the street leading away from the airport.

  “They know where it is right now. They can track the plane online. They just don’t know anything unusual has happened except
that our passenger became ‘ill’ and we had to divert to another airport. I don‘t think they‘ll be suspicious until their pilots haven‘t checked in for a few hours. We might even get twenty-four hours before they start investigating, but probably not that long.”

  “What about the people that are expecting Todd to show up in Washington?” asked Emily.

  “They’ll probably start asking questions in an hour or so,” replied Alex. “They’ll be temporarily placated when they find out we diverted to Worcester, for maybe another hour, then start asking questions seriously in another hour. All in all, we might have four hours before a serious search is started.”

  “Not much time,” said Emily.

  “No,” said Doug, “but enough. In the next couple of hours, either we’ll be home free, or we’ll be in deep trouble anyway. You do realize we can‘t do this without significant risk of exposing ourselves…”

  Oh crap, thought Alex, not more shooting.

  . . .

  The drive to Clinton was uneventful. They bound Todd’s hands behind his back and waited for him to wake up. It was a thirty-minute trip to the warehouse they rented and the Versed was wearing off by the time they arrived. Alex got out and slid open double wooden doors that led to a ground level garage area and Doug drove the car into the building. Closing the doors behind him, Alex moved over to the car.

  “Wha’s hap’ning?” slurred Todd as he was pulled from the car. His feet dragged behind him on smooth concrete as they moved him over to a chair.

  Alex looked around him. The chair sat in the middle of a large high-ceilinged room. The floor above was supported by a dozen or so white painted iron posts. The room spanned the entire width of the building and sunlight made bright rectangles on the floor as it shined through the tops of long many-paned windows. The bottoms of the windows were painted over their lower eight feet so no one could look in, but were left clear on the top. Florescent lamps hung from above on several feet of chain. The limo was parked on the left side of the room and their trusty computer-equipment-filled van was over on the right. The chair was between the two vehicles, facing the van. There were three other chairs near to and facing Todd’s. Equipment outside the van, evidenced by many wires running on the floor, sat beneath a large dark drop cloth. The place had a dank dusty odor and the temperature was on the cool side.

  They plopped Todd down onto the chair and tied his hands to it. He looked up at Alex with eyes that appeared to have trouble focusing. “Who are you?”

  Doug went into the van and busied himself with equipment as Alex and Emily followed, removing their disguises. “So far, so good,” said Doug. “But this is where the rubber meets the road.”

  “How’s the flight crew?” asked Alex.

  “They’re fine,” said Doug as he tapped some keys on a keyboard, looking up at a computer screen. “They’re locked in a room upstairs with some hamburgers.”

  “So who’re we going to have on the web at our little meeting?” asked Emily.

  “I don’t know for sure yet,” said Doug. “They’re supposed to show up online in about a half an hour. “Why don’t you and Alex go keep Todd company while I get things set up here.”

  Alex and Emily went to where Todd was sitting and sat facing him. Todd looked at them with curiosity and then a look of shock flashed across his face. “You… You’re Alex Stewart!” He looked at Emily. “And you’re Emily Clark!” He recovered himself, then gave a short nod. “I am truly impressed. I knew you were a pilot, but I had no idea you could fly a jet!”

  “Neither did I,” said Alex.

  “Well, we certainly underestimated you. I suppose that’s Doug Brown?” He nodded toward the van. Todd was rapidly recovering from the Versed.

  Alex said nothing. He felt vindicated. All this time, they had been risking their reputations and lives on what was little more than a hunch. The fact that Todd knew who they were told him Todd was indeed the one after them; the one responsible for his being shot at, probably losing his job, and God knows what else.

  “So, what now?” asked Todd. He seemed uncertain, but not at all alarmed.

  Jesus! thought Alex. Does he have an ace up his sleeve? Todd’s confidence was pissing him off.

  “We gave you a mild sedative,” said Emily. “It made you more… compliant. We’re waiting for it to wear off.”

  “Well, even though we already know about each other,” said Todd, “and apparently quite a bit about each other, I’d say introductions are in order; I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Dr. Griffin Todd.” He looked over at Alex.

  Shit, he sounds cordial. “And I’m one of the guys you sent people after to shoot! I, we, damn near got killed!”

  Todd nodded. “Yes, I know. We seriously underestimated you. I certainly never expected to be kidnapped. And you did it by stealing a jet! Outstanding. You, all of you, have proven to be remarkably capable and talented. And obviously, I don’t know the whole story. Even so, had we known at the beginning how incredibly resourceful you can be, things would have gone differently.”

  I don’t like this, thought Alex. He’s being way too open. What’s he doing?

  “Where are Richard and Oscar?” asked Emily. “Are they all right?” She stared hard at Todd.

  “Richard is in a secret facility in Marlborough. He’s fine,” said Todd. He paused. “We had to take Oscar to a hospital. He was hurt when he was captured.” He looked up at Emily. “He’s being taken care of, though. He’ll be fine.”

  “He damn well better be!” barked Emily. She seemed as irritated at Todd as Alex was.

  Things were quiet for a minute. “Just how long do you expect to stay free?” asked Todd.

  “Just how long do you expect to stay alive?” asked Alex.

  “I could ask the same of you.” Apparently, Todd was trying to unsettle them. And, damn it, it was working. “So where do we go from here?”

  “You wait,” said Alex. He looked over at Emily. “Keep an eye on him. I’m going to go help Doug.” He got up and walked back to the van. The man was infuriating. Although Alex was sure Todd was securely tied to the chair, and Emily could take care of herself, he couldn’t help frequently looking over his shoulder to check on them. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  In the van, Alex tapped Doug on the shoulder. He appeared to be totally absorbed in what was going on in the computer. “Doug,” he said, “is this going to work? Todd seems awfully confident. Like he’s holding all the cards.”

  Doug looked up at him and raised his eyebrows. “I figure we’ve got about a fifty-fifty chance. Todd is the wild card. Either he opens up at the right moment, or we’re screwed.” He looked back at the computer screen. “Of course, we have to get at least some of the people we invited to show up too.” He entered some more data into the computer. “People are undoubtedly searching for us right now. We have to work fast.”

  At the appointed time, internet connections were made and faces began appearing on the computer screen in the van. The first was James Webb, Director of the FBI. “Hello, Doug,” the disembodied face said. Apparently, he could see as well as be seen. Doug must have turned on a video camera in the van. “Just what’s going on here? I’ve got a busy schedule. This had better be good!”

  “I would not waste your time, sir,” said Doug. “Please be a little patient. There are others who are joining us.”

  Rapidly, now, additional faces appeared on the screen. Each was greeted by Doug, some, like Director Webb, he seemed to have met before. When done, the screen was spilt into twelve windows, each containing a face. Below each window was a name. James Webb, Director, FBI, read one. The others were, John Strauss, Director, CIA, Tom Levine, Director, NSA, Sam Skerritt, Council to the President, Xiang Xu, Chinese Ambassador to the UN, Charles Leblanc, French Ambassador to the UN, Andrew Thompson, British Ambassador to the UN, Sergei Provikov, Russian Ambassador to the UN, Henry Wilson, Editor-in-Chief, New York Times, Chad North, Edi
tor-in-Chief, London times, Francois Belieu, Editor-in-Chief, Le Monde, and finally, Walter Heines, Editor-in-Chief, Der Speigel.

  Doug hit a few key strokes and said, “On your screen, each of you can now see the other participants. As you can see, you are quite an eclectic group.”

  Sergei Provikov spoke. “I don’t understand what you would have to say to me that you would want to share with Ambassador Xu.”

  Xu grunted. “I think maybe you are wasting my time!”

  “Please, gentlemen. As I explained when I first notified you, what you’re going to witness here has global implications and therefore will impact all of you,” said Doug.

  “Even if true,” said Webb, “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have just worked with the FBI. Why do we have to involve these other people?”

  “If there is any substance at all to what you claim, national security issues are at stake here,” said Strauss. “You are treading on dangerous ground. You may be found to be in violation of the National Security Act.”

  “That’s just like the American Government,” said Provikov. “Don’t like to give up any secrets, do you? No matter the impact they have on anyone else.”

  “Let me explain,” said Doug. “We have with us Dr Griffin Todd, an eminent virologist from Harvard University. I believe he’ll have something to say that will interest all of you. Dr Todd will not know you are listening in as we talk to him. He will not be able to hear you, but you will be able to hear and see him. I will be able to hear you over a headset I‘m wearing. Just give me a couple of minutes to get things set up and all will be revealed.”

  Doug hit a key and “MUTE” appeared on the screen. He turned to Alex. “Something’s not quite right here,” he said.

  Alex’s level of alarm went up a notch. “What?”

  Doug paused for a moment, thinking. “Damn near everyone we asked showed up.”

  “Well, maybe you’re better at marketing than you thought.”