Thompson realized he was holding his breath. He let it out as Brook said, “The voice is Zora Vulkov, former senior
researcher at the Biopreparat in Russia, and protégé of Anton Bunin.”
Dr. Umstead groaned.
Frank said, “What is the significance of that? What is Biopreparat?”
“Biopreparat conducted most of the bioterrorism research in the old USSR. Anton Bunin led a team that spent years attempting to aerosolize bubonic plague as well as anthrax,” said Brook. “Vulkov has apparently been in Cameroon working as a medical doctor for the last thirty years. We do not know why she has surfaced now.”
Umstead ran his hands along the long grayish hair at his neck, and said, “I assume the government had recordings of Zora Vulkov’s voice?”
Brook said, “Yes, we did.”
Thompson’s stomach flipped again and he realized that the U.S. government had squirreled away millions of voice files, likely including his own. He said, “Agent Reynolds, does the FBI have any idea of a motive for Bunin to have kidnapped Dr. Strong, or why Zora Vulkov would be involved?”
Before Brook could respond, a young man, slightly built, with big glasses and a short-sleeved white shirt came into the room and sat behind her.
“The information in an email I’m about to show you makes the possible kidnapping of Dr. Strong, and the apparent involvement of Zora Vulkov, a more threatening development.” Brook touched her laptop, and an email came up on the screen. “This is from the Centers for Disease Control. They received a blood sample a week ago from a hospital in Rome, taken from one of three priests who were admitted to the hospital about ten days ago. The patients presented with high fever, coughing, and other symptoms that indicated an infection. The hospital put them in isolation.”
Thompson looked at the email. It was from the Office of Infectious Disease at the CDC to a long distribution list that included recipients in multiple government groups.
He skipped to the bottom and read:
This bacterium sample is Bacillus anthracis, but it is not a known modern variant. The researchers were working with a reliquary from an altar in France, allegedly not opened in 350 years. Our analysis of the bacteria indicates that it is the same variant that caused an outbreak at the Charleston Navy Base in 1986. We recommend that the FBI in SC, along with South Carolina’s Law Enforcement Division, and South Carolina Department of Health and Environmental Control, take the lead in investigating a possible link between the 1986 event and the cases of anthrax in Rome.
It took only a few minutes for all the attendees to finish reading, and when they did so, the room erupted in noise.
Chapter 18
Amarintha and Jack picked their way over to the hole in the ground, thirty feet from Richard’s front porch. The kid with the soul patch was squatting, his face covered in dirt, and wearing a grin. He was happy to have an audience.
“There’s something down here that sounded like metal, so I stopped digging to look at it.” The big auger that was part of this task sat to the side with its diesel motor turned off. He climbed out of the hole easily, brushing dirt off his pants. “I run this thing all the time, and I’m telling y’all, I’ve never heard a noise like that around here. The last time something like this happened, it turned out to be a big chest of silver.”
Amarintha touched the young man on the arm. “What’s your name? I’m Amarintha.”
He went to shake her hand, but instead rubbed his hand on his pants and nodded. “I’m Jimmy, ma’am.”
“Let’s take a look. Help me down.”
Jack started to object, but then reached over and helped Amarintha down to Jimmy, who had jumped back into the hole. The kid stooped down, brushed away some dirt, and showed them what looked like six square inches of cast iron. Could just be an old frying pan, thought Jack, but he didn’t say this aloud.
“Jimmy, I’ll pay you extra for digging this out by hand. Can you do that for me?” She grinned at them, and Buck and Jimmy nodded.
Jack helped her out of the hole and said, “Let’s go back over to Richard’s porch to see what he wants to show us. It will take a while to uncover whatever is buried down there. This is a good time for some of his lemonade.”
As they walked back over to the porch, Richard stood up. “What did you find?” he asked.
Amarintha laughed. “It looks like a frying pan. How about you? What did you want to show Jack?”
Sitting on the steps, Jack said, “Here, Amarintha, you take the swing.” She walked over to the swing and sat down, moving it with her tiptoes.
Richard was holding a standard 3 x 3 photograph printed on a laser printer. “A month ago my granddaughter gave me a new camera. I was trying to see whether that super zoom thing worked and took a bunch of random pictures. I remembered that one of them might be important. I gave the camera to my granddaughter yesterday and asked her to print the pictures.”
“Look at this.” Richard thrust the picture towards Jack, who sat down next to him, expectant. “Is this your wife?”
The picture showed a red Mercedes at the stop sign on Church Street and his wife. His wife? The woman was only visible from the back, but he recognized Kate. It was the hair and the silhouette he knew so well. She was getting into the car’s back seat from the right-hand side. At the driver’s door, Jack saw a man standing, looking to the left. Another man was in the back seat. The license tag on the car was in the middle of the picture, with the people and the car slightly less in focus.
“What day was this? Do you know who the man is?” Jack knew his tone was harsh, and he willed himself to calm down.
“The 10th of April, a month ago. That man and his brother own the rug store downtown.”
Stunned, Jack erupted. “Why didn’t you tell the police? How did you just now find this picture?”
“I took this picture on that Monday morning at about 7:00 a.m., which I know for sure, since I got the camera the night before on my birthday. I didn’t remember I had taken the pictures until the other day when I saw a car just like this one. Then I gave the camera to my granddaughter, so she could print out the picture.”
“Are you absolutely sure this was Monday, April 10th?”
“I am.” Richard seemed irritated that Jack was questioning him. “And if I’d remembered the darn picture before yesterday, I would’ve taken it to the police.”
Amarintha had stopped her swinging, and held her hand out for the picture. Instead of handing it to her, Jack stood stock still for five seconds, turned, and ran to his truck.
As he opened the truck door, Jack heard Buck yell, “Hey, Jack, where you going? We almost got it!”
Chapter 19
Thompson wasn’t a biologist, and had no idea how a bacterium could survive in a reliquary for 350 years. He watched Dr. Umstead furiously making notes as the email on the screen stayed visible.
The Major said, “That email is from two days ago. Why have you been sitting on it?” He turned to Umstead and added, “What is this outbreak of anthrax in 1986?”
“I don’t know,” said the doctor. “This is the first I’m hearing about it.”
Brook said, “I have a team looking into the 1986 situation. We should have an update later today. This email also went to the FBI’s Field Information Group, what we call FIG. The FIG is testing an advanced software program, and has analyzed the information in this email as well as other data we have related to Bunin.”
Brook looked down at the table for a moment. “We missed 9/11. There were clues buried in the data the government received, but we only saw the pattern after the attack. The FIG group has created a program using advanced mathematics that can link billions of pieces of information, to see relationships a human wouldn’t be able to detect. We aren’t the only ones analyzing this information, so don’t think the fate of the United States rests on your shoulders.”
&n
bsp; She gave a wan smile, then added, “I’m going to let Chad Jackson, from the FIG team, explain to you how the program works.” She typed on the laptop a minute more, and a faint chart came up on the screen.
The slight young man who had been sitting behind Brook stood up, and in a disarming southern accent said, “I’m going to try and explain something that took a dozen PhDs in statistics to create, so bear with me. Take a look at this.” He pointed to the screen, which was barely visible, walked over to the drapes, and closed them. A bulleted list popped into view:
•Dr. Adam Chalk is killed on April 10 of this year.
•Dr. Adam Chalk, Kate Strong’s boss at the College, performed appraisals on stolen antiquities for Alternative Auctions, funded by Anton Bunin.
•Dr. Kate Strong, expert in Christian reliquaries, disappears April 10.
•On May 10, Dr. Zora Vulkov, former member of Soviet bioterrorism agency, Biopreparat, reports that Anton Bunin has kidnapped Dr. Kate Strong.
•Anton Bunin is the former top researcher for Biopreparat and colleague of Vulkov.
•On May 1, Vatican researchers fall ill from strain of anthrax known to have occurred in South Carolina in 1986.
•Outbreak is reported to the FBI by the CDC on May 12th
Chad said, “The software looks at all events we feed it, but only examines those that are potentially dangerous. The probability of an event is calculated statistically. This is the software’s conclusion.” He hit a button on the laptop and a written paragraph appeared on the screen:
It is more than a 34% probability that Anton Bunin is seeking to locate new biological organisms unknown to scientists, either inaccessible due to climate, as in permafrost that has now melted, or inaccessible due to religious custom such as material in sealed reliquaries in the Hindu, Buddhist and Christian faiths. This is likely related to his desire to discover new drug compounds, or possibly to create a biological weapon available for sale.
“Mother of God,” said Dr. Umstead.
The attendees stared at the screen. Finally, Thompson asked, “Is the FBI considering this actionable information? And if you are, why?”
Chad looked to Brook, then back at Thompson. “We ran a simulation to see if the FIG’s program could really predict a catastrophic event.”
“What does that mean?” said Major Munez
Chad rubbed his hands together. “We input all the information that was available in August 2001, like the report that Middle Eastern students wanted to learn how to take off, but not how to land an airplane. There was a good bit of data that various law enforcement groups had.”
No one said anything. Chad looked at Brook again. This time she spoke. “The FIG software said it was a 70 percent likelihood that terrorists were planning to crash planes into New York or Washington, D.C. Had the program been operational at that time, it would have made this prediction ten days before the events of 9/11. So we are going to take this prediction seriously. We cannot afford not to.”
Chapter 20
Amarintha sat with her head in her hands and felt Richard touch her shoulder. She looked up at him and asked, “Do you really think this picture means anything? I wonder why the owners of the rug store didn’t go the police once they saw Kate on the television. I certainly remember seeing it.”
“Maybe they did. I feel like a fool for not remembering. I probably should have taken the camera to the police first rather than get Jack’s hopes up.” His voice was quavering.
“Could she be alive?”
Richard sniffed and was quiet for a long time. “People have disappeared before for a lot longer and then showed back up. You just don’t know. Maybe she sent Jack a letter he never got.”
“My daughter knows Jack’s daughter. They are best friends, and I’m sure Sara’s mother has never contacted her.”
Finally, Richard stood up. “I think we’re past the lemonade stage for today. How about a whiskey?”
Amarintha nodded and walked with Richard through the front door. She hadn’t been past the front room or the small bathroom right off the foyer, and looked around with great interest.
The dark blue walls held a few paintings and many small shelves with figurines on them. The furniture was old, not quite antique, but solid 1920s walnut and mahogany. There were small rugs all over the floors, not just classic Persians but some styles she recognized from Morocco, China, and Egypt. None of them was room-sized, which seemed strange, and the effect was similar to walking through her daughter’s bedroom, where Ava’s clothes were always strewn across the floor.
Richard took her through the small kitchen to a covered porch that overlooked a small garden, furnished with a brick patio and gurgling fountain. A six-foot matching brick wall covered with creeping fig, Lady Banks roses, and ruby azaleas enclosed the entire garden. Camellias decorated three of the backyard’s walls, making the entire yard an old-fashioned garland. There were several beautiful and unusual weeping Japanese Maples in strategic locations. It was a perfect, small garden,
“Oh, this is so beautiful, Richard!” Amarintha smiled and spread her hands wide. “It is just what a garden should be.”
He gestured to a set of comfortable chairs around a tea table on the patio. She fell into the chair and put her feet up on the matching ottoman.
“Now, how about that whiskey?” he asked, still standing.
“You were serious? I need to drive out to Summerville later today, so no thanks.”
Before Richard could leave for the kitchen, they heard, “Hello, are you in there?” from the front door. They both walked back through the house to see Buck and his young helper on the front porch.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Sims, but we’ve uncovered this thing. I’m glad you’re still here.” Although the tone of his voice was calm, Buck rocked back and forth on his boots, and Jimmy was grinning and almost jumping for joy.
“We found a treasure chest!” Jimmy announced.
“Now hold on, Jimmy,” said Buck. “Ma’am, I don’t think it’s a treasure chest, but it sure isn’t a frying pan. That’s what I thought it’d be, but no, it’s some sort of trunk or box for sure.”
Amarintha and Richard opened the screen door and followed Jimmy and Buck next door. She walked over to the hole and saw a rectangular box made of what looked like dark wood. The box was about two by three feet, and Jimmy had tied a rope around it.
“My goodness, is it heavy? It looks small enough to lift without a rope.”
Jimmy danced excitedly. “I can’t lift it. I had to dig all the way around it and had a heck of a time getting the rope around it. That’s why we need the truck. It’s real heavy, so it’s got to have gold or something like that in it.”
“I’ve told him that it just as likely could have rocks in it,” said Buck, but his face was lit with excitement like his young helper’s. “Go on then, Jimmy, run the winch.”
Jimmy went back to the truck and started the winch. The rope moved, and the small trunk began to lift out of its nest of dirt and small rock. When the trunk was almost at ground level, Jimmy and Buck moved the rectangular object by hand to lower it on the ground.
“Hey, this looks like somebody’s idea of a joke. That lock’s not that old,” said Jimmy.
Buck said, “As heavy as this thing is, it’s probably lead for bullets or something.”
Richard said, “That’s exactly what I think. This is an ammunition case from the Civil War. There must be ready-made bullets inside for it to be so heavy, and we probably need to have a specialist open it.”
“Darn.” Jimmy’s shoulders became still. “I thought it’d be treasure, but it’s just some Confederate stuff.”
Buck put his arm on Jimmy’s shoulder and said, “Come on son, let’s go get some coffee and leave these people to figure it out.”
Jimmy cranked the wire cable back in place and the truck pull
ed out into the street.
“Well, my dear, you may have something very interesting here,” said Richard, kneeling down to look at the trunk.
“I thought you said this was a Confederate item with bullets or something. I wondered how you would know that just looking at it,” said Amarintha.
“That was for your interested observers on the street in that regrettable horse-drawn carriage that went by while Jimmy was yelling about treasure. Knowing the tour operator, the story of the box we found may already be part of his repertoire.”
“So, what do you think?”
Richard looked at the box and lifted his eyebrows. “Well, we could open it. I have some bolt cutters.”
Amarintha nodded. “Let’s do it.”
He disappeared into his small garage and returned with the needed tool. “You ready to do this?”
“I am,” said Amarintha. After a few tries, the lock fell apart and Amarintha and Richard knelt to lift the lid. A small leather bag lay nestled in small pebbles, which filled the trunk. “We know why it was so heavy.”
She opened the bag and brought out a wooden rectangle about half the size of a small brick, small pieces of glass on the top outlining a scene. A figure in a flowing robe stood, holding both hands out; in one hand was a baby and in the other what appeared to be a flower. The flower had a huge red stone in the middle of the petals.
Amarintha turned the rectangle round and round in her hands. “Let’s take this and the bag to your back yard. When Buck and Jimmy come back, I’ll show them the trunk and the pebbles. We’ll time it so that the next carriage driver has a full view. No one will know it had something inside it.”
“Good idea,” said Richard, and he followed Amarintha to his back yard.
Chapter 21
“Why is this not being investigated by Homeland Security?” asked Frank.
Brook looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “The program was coded by Chad’s team here in Charleston. Homeland believes the mathematicians at the CIA, the NSA, and the DOD should analyze the program. I have quite a few emails telling the FBI why the FIG program is flawed.”
The Huguenot Thief Page 11