The Anthrax Protocol
Page 19
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While the others were making their lists and gathering their tubes and equipment and while Mason and Lauren were questioning Guatemotzi about the distance and direction to his village, Janus snuck away from the group and keyed in the sat-phone to Colonel Blackman’s number.
He answered in a gruff whisper, “What part of I’m busy dealing with an emergency here don’t you understand? I told you I’d call you when I had a schedule for the kill team nailed down.”
“Listen up, asshole,” Janus replied, also whispering so the other team members would not hear. “I’m trying to save your ass here, so don’t give me any shit, okay?”
“I’ve got a bunch of soldiers sick and dying, my main lab is off-limits due to contagion with a deadly pathogen, and my superiors are crawling up my butt asking why a civilian was allowed in the lab in the first place, so please, be my guest and save my ass.”
“Okay, you can thank me later. The Indio boy now says there is a medicine woman in his village who has a mixture of herbs and shit that can cure the ‘bleeding sickness’ in those who are not naturally immune. Blackie, this is even better than the chance to make a vaccine, but we’ve got to act immediately or we’re gonna lose the cure to the CDC, who will naturally give it to the entire world free of charge and without any political leverage.”
“Damn, that’s great news, Janus. With a cure in hand we can blackmail the Saudis for cheap oil forever, not to mention what other countries will give us to keep all of their citizens from dying a horrible death. The United States will again be king of the world.”
“Yeah, well don’t count your chickens just yet, esteemed leader. Even as we speak, Mason Williams is on the phone with the CDC to see if he can get a helicopter from Mexico City to take him to the boy’s village to get the samples and the cure that will blow us outta the water.”
“Those helicopters from Mexico City are army choppers, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, so?”
Blackman chuckled again. “I happen to have a general in the Mexican Army who owes me big-time for pulling his ass out of a sling. I’ll drop a bug in his ear to make sure no choppers are flying to your neck of the woods for the foreseeable future.”
“Good, that’s a start. I’m thinking it’ll take Williams several days at least to hike through the jungle to the boy’s village. Now what about that team I need to take control of the samples? When can I expect them to arrive on the scene?”
“I’m fixin’ to interview the leader right now. They can be wheels up in a few hours and should arrive at your camp midday tomorrow.”
“That long?”
“Remember, Janus, there is a worldwide airport shutdown so these dudes are gonna have to fly a propeller aircraft to stay under radar, which means they fly low and slow.”
“Okay, I’ll do my best to stall Williams until your guys get here.”
“Good, and while you’re at it, see if you can get the precise location of the boy’s village from him so there won’t be any delay in our acquiring the cure.”
Janus laughed. Blackman was a complete idiot. “Sure, boss, I’ll just ask him the GPS coordinates and that should do it.”
“What?”
“He’s an uneducated Indian boy, Blackie. When we asked him where his village was he just shrugged and pointed south, which in case you’ve forgotten your geography, encompasses a hell of a lot of jungle. He did say it was somewhat near a city called Tuxtla, but I don’t know just what he considers ‘somewhat close,’ so the best bet is for your guys to follow them to the village.”
“And just how the hell are they going to trail them through the jungle without giving themselves away?” he asked gruffly.
“I’ll try to plant a GPS bug on one of them and I’ll let you know if I succeed.”
Pausing for a moment, Janus then added, “And Blackie, now that Williams and the American archaeologist are going to be off in the jungle by themselves, you won’t need to kill the CDC team, and I’ll be able to stay onboard with them to help you out in the future. No need for me to disappear now.”
Blackie considered his choices before he asked, “But, what about Williams and the archaeologist? They’ll still have to be . . . umm . . . eliminated.”
“I would rather you didn’t,” Janus said. “Williams is a good man doing good work, and since I have a good working relationship with him, I won’t have to try to get close to whomever the CDC would pick to take his place . . . so hands off. After all, their interception will take place in a remote jungle location many days’ journey from civilization, so they won’t be able to warn anyone until well after you have your samples.”
“That may not be enough time,” Blackie replied.
“Well then, take them prisoner and hold them until you’ve processed the samples, but I’m serious. I don’t want Williams harmed.”
“Okay, okay, stay calm. I’ll tell the team to treat them with kid gloves, all right?”
“You’d better, or I swear I’ll make you pay.”
Janus clicked the phone off, hearing him swear just before the call ended.
Oh, well, Janus thought. Some days you just can’t please anyone.
Chapter 23
Washington, D.C.
Congressman Michael O’Donnell’s aide knocked on his door once and entered, carefully closing the door behind him.
O’Donnell looked up from the position paper he was reading and his heart beat a little faster. He knew something was up, for Jimmy Palmer never bothered to shut the door for routine matters.
He leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. “What’s going on, Jimmy?”
Jimmy looked over his shoulder, a light gleam of sweat on his forehead. “You were right, boss,” he said in a low voice as if afraid he might be overheard. “Something really serious is going on over at USAMRIID.”
Now O’Donnell’s heart really began to beat hard and his stomach did a nervous flip. He’d been suspicious of Colonel Blackman for some time. He had always felt the man was a devious bastard who would do anything to advance his career, including putting the State of Maryland at risk if necessary. Though only a congressional freshman and low man on the totem pole of the House National Security Committee, Military Research and Development Subcommittee, O’Donnell was a rarity in Washington circles. He was still naive enough to be both patriotic and not afraid to risk his career if he thought the country was in danger.
Some months back he’d tasked Jimmy with keeping a close eye on USAMRIID in general and Colonel Blackman in particular. Now it seemed his suspicions were about to bear fruit.
He sighed. “What have you found out, Jimmy?”
Still speaking in a low voice, Jimmy said, “You know I’ve been kinda dating that secretary to the army member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?”
O’Donnell nodded. Jimmy’s dating habits were both profuse and something of a legend around the capitol.
“Well, she let slip last night over dinner that there’d been a Code Red lockdown at USAMRIID a couple of days ago. Said her boss had got his knickers in a knot over it and had looked like he was going to have a stroke when he found out.”
“Did she say what had caused the Code Red?”
“No, and in fact when I seemed more than a little interested in it, she backed off and mumbled something about it was probably just a drill and then she changed the subject abruptly, as if she knew she’d said too much.”
Damn! O’Donnell thought. I knew that bastard was going to unleash something terrible on my state, and I’ll bet it has something to do with the plague that’s ravaging the country.
“You did good, Jimmy. Best not rock the boat by asking any more questions of your girlfriend—we don’t want her carrying tales back to her boss.”
“What are you going to do, Chief?”
“I’ll work it from my end. There are some men on the subcommittee I still trust, so I’ll make some calls and see what I can find out.”
Fort Detrick
“Goddamn it, Blackie, I told you to be careful with those samples of the plague!”
Blackman sighed. He knew he’d stepped in the shit and now he was going to have to crawl a little bit or he’d lose his most valuable ally on Capitol Hill. McGuire had covered his ass on several occasions, getting him men and equipment when it meant going through back channels so no one else would know what he was working on.
“I know, Mac, but how was I to know one of my couriers would get careless and contaminate the whole damned laboratory?”
“Hell, Blackie, I told you it was risky using those damned Mexicans for transporting dangerous samples.”
Blackman sighed. “Well, Mac, who do you think I should’ve used—a chink or a black? The man had to go into Mexico for Christ’s sake, so him being a Mexican was kinda necessary, don’t you think?”
“Don’t make excuses, Blackie,” McGuire growled. “It’s a sign of weakness. Just get this shit cleaned up and do it pronto. My secretary tells me O’Donnell’s man, Palmer, is already sniffing around about the Code Red.”
This information scared the shit out of Blackman. He had most of the members of the Military Research and Development Subcommittee in his pocket, but O’Donnell was a wildcard who couldn’t be reasoned with. He was a naive little do-gooder who just didn’t understand the way the world worked and knew even less about the things men of vision needed to do to protect the country.
“Uh, you want me to have one of the boys talk some sense into Palmer?” he asked. “Maybe teach him not to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“For Christ’s sake, no, you asshole!” the general exploded. “We’re talking about a sitting member of Congress, not some nobody we can muscle without consequences. O’Donnell may be a junior member but the New York ‘Slimes’ loves the liberal bastard. Just get the lab cleaned up and see if you can put a security blanket on the deaths that occurred. Maybe you can use the outbreak of the plague in other parts of the country as an excuse for the blackout of information.”
“I’ll handle it, General,” Blackman said, though he had no idea how at the moment.
“You’d better, Blackie, or I might just have to have a couple of my boys have a talk with you.”
In spite of his many years in combat, Blackman felt his testicles shrivel at the tone in the old man’s voice. He’s seen some men who’d had a talk with the general’s boys and it wasn’t a sight he wanted to remember. They’d ended up looking like they’d been through a meat grinder.
He hung the phone up and turned to his Rolodex. He flipped the pages until he came to the name Bear. He called the number and when it was answered, he said, “Get your A-team together and meet me at the safe house as soon as possible.”
The man hung up without answering, having an aversion to having his voice heard over any electronic instruments.
Fort Detrick
Blackman kept an apartment not far from his office at Fort Detrick for just such secret meetings. The lease was under an old friend’s name and the bill was paid in cash for six months at a time. He wanted no trail leading back to him on this assignment.
He entered the apartment and found six men sitting around the room, talking quietly and drinking beers they’d gotten from his refrigerator. They were all hard-looking men, and they were all ex–special forces who’d been dishonorably discharged from their various branches of the armed forces.
The man Blackman knew only as Bear held up a small black box and pointed it at the colonel. It hummed for a moment and then a green light appeared, showing Blackman wasn’t wired or transmitting any electronic signals. Bear was a very careful man.
Even the colonel didn’t know his real identity. His full name was Robert Eddleman, but he’d gotten the nickname Bear while in the Navy SEALs because he had a habit of roaring in a loud voice while on the attack in combat and because he was the approximate size and shape of a grizzly bear and had the same nasty temper when crossed.
“Hello, Colonel,” Bear said, holding his hand out.
Blackman knew the drill and handed Bear his cell phone. Bear opened the back of the phone and removed the battery so the GPS tracking of the phone was disabled and then he handed both back to Blackman.
He sat down, picked up a beer, and took a deep swig and then he asked, “What’ve you got for us this time?”
Of all the men present, the only one whose name Blackman knew was Bear, and he was sure it was a pseudonym. Back in the day when General McGuire had introduced the two, Blackman had asked what the rest of his name was and Bear had just smiled and had not answered. Blackman had gotten the hint and had felt a frisson of fear at the soulless black eyes that stared back at him.
He handed a sealed manila envelope to Bear.
“The details are in there, along with photos of the relevant players. I have a plane waiting for you in the usual place and speed is of the essence. You’re to fly below radar to an airfield in Mexico—the coordinates, along with your instructions, are in the envelope,” he said, knowing Bear was an accomplished pilot.
“Mexico, huh?” Bear asked. “That’s where the plague started, right?”
Blackman frowned and nodded. “Yes, but you’ll be flying to the safest place in the country. The people you’ll be dealing with are immune to the plague, so you won’t be exposed, especially if you’re careful and wear millipore masks and gloves.”
Bear nodded. “Sounds good to me. Anything else I need to know?”
Blackman, too, was cautious. He knew the NSA had ears everywhere and so he would give no precise verbal instructions for his own protection. Just because you were paranoid didn’t mean the bastards weren’t out to get you was his motto. He just wagged his head in answer to Bear’s question.
“And our fee?” Bear asked.
“As per our usual arrangement for umm . . . dangerous work, one-half has already been wired to your account in the Caymans, and the other half will be paid upon satisfactory conclusion of the assignment.”
Bear smiled and nodded, his snake eyes glittering. He and his team got to their feet. He winked at Blackman as they filed out of the apartment, all of them taking their beers with them so as to leave no fingerprints behind.
Blackman took a deep breath and wiped sweat from his forehead as he locked the door behind them. No matter how many times he dealt with Bear and his team, he had to admit they scared the living shit out of him.
He moved to the window and watched as the team got into a black Suburban with mud-smeared license plates and motored off. What a cliché, he thought, just like the Secret Service vehicles.
As he stood there, he thought again about General McGuire’s warnings about O’Donnell and his staff looking into his affairs. Maybe when he had the cure and the blood to make a vaccine, he’d think about letting Bear and his team loose on the congressman.
By then he’d be so powerful he could tell the general to fuck himself and there was nothing the old man could do about it. Hell, by then he’d be the most powerful man in the world!
Chapter 24
Tlateloco
While Mason and Lauren were working with Guatemotzi, trying to get him to understand the idea of a map or satellite photo, Shirley Cole was busy washing Guatemotzi’s clothes in a strong bleach solution to get rid of any anthrax bacteria still clinging to them from his days around the campsite and in the nearby jungle.
Finally, after Lauren had tried for the tenth time to get the boy to point toward his village on a map, he just shook his head and pointed over his shoulder at some distant mountains to the south and west of the camp.
When Lauren asked him how many days to walk to his village, Guatemotzi thought for a moment, looked at her and then at Mason and grinned as he held up five fingers.
Mason laughed. “Something tells me he doesn’t think too much of our ability to travel
at speed through the jungle. He probably doesn’t think we’ll be able to keep up with him.”
Lauren raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know about you, Doctor, but I play tennis three days a week, jog at least five miles a week, and can swim a quarter-mile in just ten seconds off the current college record.”
He shook his head and grinned. “Gosh, that leaves me in the dust. I can’t run anymore ’cause of a knee injury I got while serving in the Navy, but I do bicycle to and from work every day—about five miles each way.”
“A bicycle?” she asked. “What are you, a sissy-boy? Does the bike have training wheels on it?”
“Hey,” he protested. “I’ll have you know I take my life in my hands every day to do battle in Atlanta traffic.”
She started to smile and then frowned. “Hey, what about weapons? I don’t want to be a worrywart, but if we’re gonna trek through the jungle for five days, there is no telling what kind of critters we might run into along the way, and I’d just as soon not try to fend off a cougar with my nail file.”
“Not to worry,” Mason said. “I got proficient with a. 45 while in the Navy, and we have a cabinet in the lab with a few Armalite AR-15 rifles and plenty of ammunition.”
And then he frowned. “But I think our worries should be more on running into drug cartel members rather than wild animals. The animals will try to give us a wide berth if we let them, but the drug dealers with try to kill us if we stumble upon a marijuana field or a plot of poppies they are cultivating to turn into heroin.”
Lauren smirked and looked at her watch. “Jeez, Doc, I just realized I’m late for an appointment in Mexico City—not that I don’t want to come on this trip with you since you make it sound so romantic and all.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” he joked. “I’m sure Guatemotzi knows trails that are both safe from wild animals and will keep us away from the drug lords who might be in the area.”