The Anthrax Protocol

by James Thompson

  As the tracker finally came to life, he saw immediately that the device showed a faint blip almost five miles away moving through the jungle back toward the camp at the dig site.

  Jinx yawned and looked over his shoulder. “Well, that was close, boss. Good thing you thought to check on them or they’d of been out of range ’fore we could track them.”

  Psycho grinned around yellow, blackened teeth. “Yeah, won’t be no time at all ’fore we can catch up to ’em in the brush and take care of business.”

  “Wait a minute. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “What, boss?” Blade asked, trying his best to get back in Bear’s good graces.

  “No man alive could sneak past me when I’m on sentry duty and especially not two civilians with no military training.”

  “But what about the tracker, boss?” Jinx asked.

  “It’s got to be a trick,” Bear said. He looked around and added, “Get geared up and get the camp broken down fast. I’m gonna take another look at the village and see what I can find out before we go off half-cocked running through the jungle.”

  He turned and trotted back down the trail while his men hustled to get ready to go wherever they had to in order to catch the two doctors.

  Bear circled the village and came up to the rear of the house the couple had slept in. He eased through the door and made sure none of their gear was still there. The cabin was bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.

  He slipped out of the rear door and saw the trail heading down to the river. He decided to follow it.

  When he got to the riverbank where the village boats were docked, he found every boat had been sabotaged. They all had gaping holes in their hulls.

  “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, not caring if every person in the village heard him.

  Chapter 33

  The trip down through the rapids was so harrowing that Lauren screamed several times when huge boulders rushed at the prow of the boat only to slip just off the side at the last moment—usually more from luck than skill as Motzi and Mason paddled frantically, trying their best to control a craft that acted more like a wild beast than a riverboat.

  Finally, when they reached calmer water, Mason called to Motzi, “Pull over there to the bank. I’ve got to rest and make a call.”

  They eased the prow of the boat up onto the grassy shore and Lauren climbed out, shivering from the dowsing with river water she’d endured. Luckily, the sun was so hot that within minutes the water in her clothes was steaming as it evaporated off her.

  Mason and Motzi followed her, pulling the boat far enough up on shore so the current wouldn’t rip it away from them.

  Motzi grinned at Lauren, looking about five years old in his enthusiasm. “Mucho fun, eh, Doctor Lady?”

  Lauren just laughed and threw herself down on the mossy grass, too exhausted to reply.

  Mason moved inland until he was in a small clearing with a clear view of the lightening sky. He pulled out his sat-phone, wishing he’d thought to wrap it in waterproof plastic. He dried it off as best he could and with a silent prayer turned it on.

  He was relieved when the screen lit up. Quickly, not wishing to test his luck, he dialed the main number for the CDC in Atlanta.

  Interminable moments later, he was put through to Dr. Grant Battersee, the man the team affectionately referred to as the Battleship.

  “Hey, Mason, I didn’t expect to hear from you . . .”

  “Grant, this is an emergency call. There are a group of men who’ve followed us into the interior of Mexico and I think they’re after the plants and blood samples that we’ve collected.”

  “What plants and blood samples?” Battersee asked in a puzzled voice.

  How could he not know about the plants and blood samples that Lauren and he’d come looking for? He’d left strict instructions for the staff at the lab to relay the news to Atlanta about a possible cure.

  “Grant, there is no time to go into that just now, but we may have a cure for the plague, one that works immediately, as well as blood samples that may lead to a vaccine against the plague.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Mason, but why wasn’t I told?”

  Mason sighed. “I’m afraid that’s part of the problem, Grant. We may have a traitor on the Wildfire Team who is working at cross-purposes to us.”

  “What? I can’t believe that one of our people . . .”

  “I’m having trouble believing it myself, but that seems to be the only explanation for several things that have happened down here lately. Now, to make a long story short, Dr. Sullivan and I are trying to escape the men chasing after us by traveling down a river toward the ocean. I’m told the river comes out near a coastal village called Tehuantepec on the west coast of Mexico.”

  “What do you need me to do, Mason?”

  “See if you can get a military vessel to meet us there and take the plants and blood samples into custody. Grant, this could mean an end to the plague, so do your damnedest and don’t take no for an answer. I have no idea what these men want with these samples, but whatever it is it can’t be good for the United States or the world.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “And Grant . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell them to bring a company of Marines with them and to come armed. I have a feeling these men following us mean business and won’t take kindly to their prey being taken from them.” He hesitated a moment, and then he added, “Also, I’d keep this under your hat and don’t share any of it with the authorities in Mexico City or with the Wildfire Team until we know who our friends are and who’s been working against us.”

  Atlanta

  Grant Battersee hung up the phone, wondering for a moment if his old friend and employee was losing it. Had the chronic overwork and stress of his job, not to mention the isolation and deprivation of his current assignment, finally gotten to him? Well, he thought, I don’t care what he says, I do not believe there is a traitor on the Wildfire Team. Hell, they’re some of my best and brightest people, all of whom have sacrificed more than the world will ever know to keep America safe and healthy.

  Well, I guess the least I can do is give Mason the benefit of the doubt. For now, I’ll work around the group in Mexico and not alert them to this latest development.

  He shook his head, but for the workers in the lab to have a possible cure for this worldwide plague and to not let me know about it? I just don’t believe it, and what could some men who are supposedly following Mason and Dr. Sullivan possibly want with the cure? Of what use could it be other than to cure the ill and dying?

  He picked up his phone and thought for a moment. He didn’t know or have any significant contacts with anyone in the Department of the Navy, so who could he call to have a ship sent to the western coast of Mexico, and who would listen to him with all that the Navy and other military services had on their shoulders right now. Hell, the Navy alone was being tasked with evacuating hundreds of thousands of U.S. citizens from foreign countries where the plague was even more advanced than in America and bringing them back to our superior medical facilities.

  Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “I know,” he said to himself, “I’ll call General Mac McGuire. He’s head of the Army Chiefs of Staff and he is Colonel Blackman’s immediate superior at USAMRIID, and both are men we’ve worked with on many occasions.”

  He checked his Rolodex and pulled out the card with General McGuire’s contact information on it. He’ll know who to call at Navy to get a ship to the location Mason mentioned, and then maybe we’ll be able to get to the bottom of this mess.

  Washington, D.C.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, General Mac McGuire was on the phone and chewing great big chunks out of Colonel Blackman’s ass. “Goddammit Blackie, I give you a simple job and you manage to fuck it up beyond all recognition!”

  Sweat popped out on Blackie’s forehead as he stammered, “What . . . what do you mean, Mac? I’ve got everything under control just lik
e I told you yesterday.”

  “Oh, so you’ve got everything under control, huh?” Mac asked sarcastically.

  Uh-oh, Blackie thought. What does he know that I don’t? “I’m telling you, Mac, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, if you’ve got everything under control, how come I just got off the phone with Battersee, the fucking head of CDC, who says his man Dr. Williams is on the run from a bunch of men who are trying to steal a cure for the fucking plague?”

  Oh, shit! Blackie thought. That goddamned Bear has fucked up again! He took a deep breath and figured his only chance was to brazen it out and pretend he knew what was going on. “Oh, that,” Blackie answered, trying his best to sound confident. “I told you that Bear and his team were following the doctor but that they had to wait until he had procured the cure before they moved on him or else they’d risk losing it.”

  McGuire laughed harshly. “Nice try, Blackie, but you’re not fooling me for a minute. I know for a fact that your man and his team have failed miserably and that the doctor has managed to elude them and is even now on the verge of getting away with the cure and the blood samples that might mean a vaccine for our troops.”

  Blackie pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his sopping forehead with it. Bear must have really screwed the pooch for the doctor to be on the loose with the samples and able to contact the CDC for help. That wasn’t supposed to happen. “Okay, Mac, I’ll admit it. I haven’t heard from my team since yesterday, but at that time they said they had everything under control. The doctor was about to pick up the plants that cure the disease and to take blood samples from natives that our mole Janus said could lead to a vaccine, and after that Bear was all set to take them out.”

  “Well, since then your team has managed to not only lose track of the samples, but to lose track of the doctor and his lady friend, too.”

  “Shit!”

  McGuire finally calmed down enough to chuckle. “Never fear, Blackie. Your Uncle Mac has everything under control. As we speak, the good doctor is headed down a river in southern Mexico that comes out into the ocean near a town named Tehuantepec on the western coast.”

  Blackie grabbed a pen and notepad. “Slow down a minute, Mac. Spell that town for me . . .”

  After he’d done so, Mac asked, “Are you still in contact with your man and his team?”

  “I damn sure can be,” Blackie answered.

  “Then give him this information, and tell him for me this is his last chance. If they fuck this up, there is no place on earth remote enough for them to hide from what I will do to them . . . and you, too, Blackie.”

  Blackie swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “Yes, sir, I’ll make sure he understands what’s at stake here.”

  “Good.”

  “But Mac, what are you going to do about Battersee? Won’t he know that you double-crossed him?”

  “Naw, I’ll just tell him I passed his information on to someone at Navy, and that by the time the ship arrived at that location, there was no sign of his people. He’ll never check far enough to know there never was any ship sent there.”

  “Okay, then we’re good to go.”

  “Oh, speaking of good to go, have you taken care of that little matter of Janus at the CDC lab site?”

  “That’s due to be taken care of by Bear as soon as he’s passed on the samples and blood specimens to my men in Mexico City.”

  “Huh, well I hope he handles that little task better than he did the doctor.”

  “He’s never failed me before, sir.”

  “Good, ’cause it’s not only his ass on the line here, Blackie. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay then, as long as we understand one another, I guess I can sleep easy tonight knowing you’ve got things under control.”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Blackie said with far more certainty than he felt.

  Chapter 34

  Tlateloco

  “Hello, Congressman O’Donnell’s office, Jimmy Palmer speaking,” the young voice said into the phone.

  Damn, Janus thought. The congressman’s aide sounds like he’s still in high school. “Hello, Mr. Palmer. This is Janus speaking and I need to talk to the congressman right now.”

  Janus heard a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, uh . . . Janus was it? But all calls to the congressman must go through me. So if you’d like to state your business . . .”

  “Listen, junior, what I have to say is way above your pay grade. So if your congressman is still trying to get the goods on Colonel Blackman, I’d suggest you put him on the line right now or I’ll take my information to the New York Times and let them get all the credit for bringing that bastard down.” Janus said bitterly.

  “Wait . . . wait just a minute,” Palmer said hurriedly. “Who did you say . . . ?”

  “Cut the shit, Junior. You’ve got ten seconds to connect me or I take my story elsewhere. One . . . two . . . three . . .”

  “Okay, okay! Hold on and I’ll get him!” Palmer almost screamed into the phone.

  Five seconds later there was a click and Congressman Michael O’Donnell was speaking. “What can I do for you, Janus?”

  “I hear you’re looking for dirt on Colonel Blackie Blackman.”

  “I don’t know where . . .”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Janus exclaimed. “Can’t you Washington assholes ever give a straight answer? I know what you’ve been doing, congressman, ’cause I happen to work for Blackman and he is very well aware of your . . . uh . . . interest in him and his activities.”

  There was a pause, and then O’Donnell continued, “Well, Janus, if you’re so well informed, perhaps you can tell me what I need to know.”

  “I know that Colonel Blackman has been working for years to subvert the will of Congress, and that he has committed countless acts of treason, murder, and other various felonies too numerous to count.”

  Another pause. “I see, and I suppose you have proof of these . . . ah . . . nefarious acts?”

  Janus said, “You bet . . . ,” and began to talk rapidly.

  “Slow down, Janus,” O’Donnell said as the words poured from Janus’s mouth.

  “Look, Congressman, don’t try to bullshit me while you trace this call. I know you’re recording every word so if I speak too fast just rewind the tape later, okay?”

  “Uh . . . sure.”

  “And don’t waste your time with the trace; this is a black sat-phone provided to me by our mutual friend Colonel Blackman, completely off any lists and its GPS coordinates are untraceable, just like the ones issued to the CIA.”

  Janus laughed. “Maybe my having one of those very special phones will give my accusations a tad more credibility, huh?”

  “Since even I don’t rate one of those, it most certainly will,” O’Donnell answered, glancing up at Jimmy Palmer standing in his doorway listening to the voice coming over the speakerphone.

  Palmer shook his head no, indicating the trace was unsuccessful.

  “Let me start with the most serious and most recent of Blackman’s criminal acts,” Janus continued, the voice becoming less strident and more reasonable. “As I’m sure you are aware, there is a very serious plague of a type of mutated anthrax sweeping the entire world. Current estimates are that unless something is done and done soon, up to one-third of all the people alive today will succumb to this infection.”

  “What?” O’Donnell started to say.

  “Most of that hasn’t been made public yet, but if you doubt me, just put in a call to Dr. Battersee at the CDC and he will confirm what I’ve just told you.”

  “Okay . . . okay . . . I’m having a hard time swallowing this, but even if this is true, what does this have to do with Colonel Blackman? Are you intimating that he started this plague . . . that this is one of his experimental bugs gone rogue?”

  Janus laughed. “No, but the son of a bitch has found out that there is an imminent cure fo
r this plague, as well as a possibility of a vaccine against future outbreaks, and he is doing everything in his power to gain control of both the cure and the vaccine so that he can extort the world to do his bidding.”

  “But . . . but that would be monstrous!”

  Janus chuckled at the congressman’s naiveté. “Don’t tell me you’ve been investigating Blackman for this long and don’t yet realize that he is just that sort of monster.”

  When O’Donnell didn’t speak, Janus continued, “At this very moment, there is a team of CDC investigators down in southern Mexico who are very close to finding a cure for the plague, and Blackman has sent a team of hit men and mercenaries to hijack the ingredients for the cure and vaccine and to bring them back to Fort Detrick so that he can use them for his own purposes.”

  “Now,” O’Donnell continued, “tell me more about this cure for the plague sweeping the world and Blackman’s attempt to steal it. I’m still a little unclear as to just how the colonel could benefit from possessing this cure.”

  “Well, to begin with, Congressman, you’re going to have to add General Mac McGuire to your list of coconspirators in the theft of the plague cure. In fact, Blackman is operating under direct orders from the general in this particular instance.”

  “Holy shit!” O’Donnell exclaimed.

  Janus grinned into the phone. “This little revelation getting too rich for your blood, Congressman? Does the general have a little too much juice for you to take him on?” Janus asked mockingly.

  O’Donnell took a deep breath, trying to calm the sinking feeling in his stomach. “No one committing treason has too much juice for me to take them on, Janus. So go on with your story.”

  And so Janus did . . . detailing just how Colonel Blackman and General McGuire planned to extort the world with the cure.

  When Janus was finished, O’Donnell said, “I have just one more question for you, Janus . . . why are you telling me all this?”