by R Arundel
“Got it.”
“The laptop at the bottom of the briefcase has been reprogrammed for the new bioweapons data.”
“Is it a new laptop? The screen looks bigger.”
“Good eye, it’s a nineteen-inch screen. The green and red buttons remain.”
The president loves football. It is the quintessential American sport. It is America. Toughness, intelligence, bravery. How fitting that the nickname for the most important component of the Presidency be called The Football.
The soldier says, “Everything I will tell you is written in a step-by-step guide in the papers. The coordinates for all international targets, the order of missile launch, target value, projected casualties, they’re all available. You can enter launch codes to have the weapons deploy anywhere in the world.”
“No change in procedure with the Secretary of Defense?”
“No, he will receive his briefing on how to use his codes.”
“How do I start—with the personal identification code?”
“Precisely, no change from before. The first thing is to punch in your unique identifier.”
The soldier pulls out a small plastic laminated card. The Biscuit.
“Keep it safe.”
“Should I just keep it in my shirt pocket?”
“We had one president do that. The Biscuit ended up at the dry cleaners. I don’t recommend it. I advise keeping it in the Football.”
“Point well taken.”
“The Secretary of Defense has a similar identifier. He must enter his unique identifier on his own laptop to activate your Football. The computers will talk to each other. As soon as that is entered, the Football becomes live. You know you are live because the green button on your Football starts to flash. You can then punch in the coordinates of what you want to do.”
“The two-man rule.”
“Correct. Both you and Secretary of Defense are needed to launch any of the weapon systems.”
“I can launch bio or nuclear anywhere in the world?” says the president.
“Yes, you can. See this map of the world? You can simply use the cursor and highlight any place in the world, or type in the GPS coordinates. The computer will then activate the missile to reach that point.”
“Anywhere in the world?”
“The Freeze is fully deployed. It can now be detonated anywhere in the world.”
“Just as I ordered.”
“This is in demo mode. You can’t blow up the world, not yet anyway. Just play around with it, have fun.”
“I can play with it?”
“Sure, in the past I’ve had presidents play with it for hours. It’s like the ultimate video game. In a true situation, after you enter the codes, the red light will flash.”
The president punches in codes and watches simulated missile launches on the laptop screen. It is very realistic, showing the view from the camera housed in the nose of the missile. It also shows the destruction of the building or structure targeted. For the bioweapons, the graphics display a map of the region targeted and the estimated causalities.
***
Gilbert Lee is surprised to be summoned by the Secretary of Defense for a private meeting. He is not sure what they will discuss, and that makes him nervous.
When Gilbert enters the office, Quentin is reviewing some briefing notes.
“Hi Quentin.”
Gilbert glances at the notes, and sees they are the bioweapons file.
“Take a seat, Gilbert.”
“Thanks.”
“I wanted some clarification on The Freeze.”
Gilbert, “Sure.”
“What is it exactly?”
“WMD238 is a virus we have genetically altered to meet our defensive requirements. When released the enemy will think they have the flu. As more people become infected, it will appear to all the infectious disease experts like a flu outbreak. All the infectious disease experts have been predicting this for years, so no one will be able to trace the origin.”
“How long until the weapon kills?” says Quentin.
“Eight hours after being exposed, the person develops symptoms. Four hours after that, death occurs. So it will be difficult for anyone to even know where they were exposed.”
“Can we deliver the weapon to a single targeted individual?”
“We’re working on that. A soldier will be able to direct a plume of gas at the enemy. The gas is tasteless, odorless, and colorless. No one will know The Freeze has been directed at them. It can be used in crowded areas or by our agents for targeted sanctions.”
“Is this ready?”
“At the present time, there is still some ways to go. Right now we cannot direct the plume. A strong wind could blow it right back into the face of the carrier or into an unintended target or disperse it so there is no lethal effect.”
“Do these weapons have first strike capabilities?”
Gilbert says, “These are strictly defensive weapons. They have no place in first strikes. The development of these weapons is really as a powerful deterrent. No country will attempt a pre-emptive strike on us, knowing the capability of these weapons. I am available to help you review the briefing notes on The Freeze.”
“I have read my notes. I understand they are retaliatory weapons.”
“The Freeze is, to put it simply, the most powerful biological weapon ever created by man. The Freeze is not a first strike weapon. The devastation and suffering that would occur if this weapon were ever used is mind blowing. No soldier or senior military personnel would deploy them in a first strike. They have briefing manuals and orders specifically telling them not to do so.”
“Who can authorize a first strike?”
“No one—we have notified all personnel who are involved in the bioweapons program that they are to disregard any order to fire these pre-emptively. We have had the analysts go over all scenarios. There is no case in which such a strike can be justified.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jason does not usually allow his work to interfere with his private life. This case is different; his work and his private life are intertwined. Jason is on edge. He is closing in on Matthew, and it is only a matter of time before he will arrest him.
The sports car careens down the twisty road. The warm breeze gently rubs Jason’s face. He is on his way to see Celerie, and her face always cheers him up. Her two friends, Jen and Bryce, will be at the dress fitting, too. Well, you take the sweet with the sour, Jason thinks.
Bryce is a very thin woman with a boyish figure. She is dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a purple designer T-shirt. Bryce always admires Celerie’s more sensuous physique. It reminds her of a 1950s pin up girl.
“Now’s the time to show it off, Cel. After the wedding night, that’s it.” Bryce sits cross-legged in the plush white chair.
“You sure it’s not too tight?” asks Celerie, looking at Jen.
Jen is vertically challenged. That’s how she likes to put it. Well-proportioned but petite.
Jen, “You look sensational. You will be a showstopper. Think about it. You and Jason get changed around midnight. You get out of the wedding dress and come back in this dress to dance the rest of the night away.”
Celerie twirls in the mirror.
The sales associate looks on, “It fits you perfectly. It was made for you. No alterations needed.”
Celerie isn’t sure. She has always favored slightly looser tops, but she has to admit this dress fits her well. The dress accentuates her curves subtly. She turns in the mirror and decides to go for it. Make an entrance. She looks at her watch. Jason is coming into the store.
Bryce says, “You’re late.”
“Traffic was a . . . Bryce.” Jason looks at Bryce and smiles.
Jen says, “Don’t worry, have we got a treat for you. Feast your eyes.”
Celerie poses to show the dress. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.” Jason takes a seat between Bryce and Jen.
“
That’s the look,” says Bryce.
It’s a wee bit tight, don’t you think?” says Jason.
“She’s got the body for it,” says Jen.
“It’s too tight. It makes you look . . . I don’t quite know, Celerie,” says Jason.
“I like it. It’ll be the middle of summer, and it’s a perfect weight.”
Jason says, “I’m not sure that dress is you.”
“I think it is me, or should be.”
“You look like a high-priced hooker in that thing.”
Bryce and Jen look at each other, and the sales associate bows her head.
The sales associate then steps forward. “We have some others you can try.”
“No, that will be quite all right. I’m taking this one.”
In the car Jason does not say a word. He turns up the radio and accelerates to merge onto the highway.
Celerie breaks the silence. “I know the dress was a little dramatic, but I thought it was tasteful. I would never wear anything to embarrass you.”
“Tasteful. It looked like it was painted on.”
“I thought it looked sensuous.”
“Your breasts looked like two grapefruits ready to pop out of that thing.”
“It’s my body, and I like it. I told you about my body issues in the past. I’ve had to work to get comfortable with my shape.”
“Well, I think you’re a little too comfortable now.”
“I like the dress and I’m wearing it. So you better get used to it.”
“You look like a ten-dollar whore,” says Jason.
“Jason.”
“I’m sorry, but you do. You are going to look like a cheap whore at our wedding.”
“What has gotten into you?” The pitch of her voice increases.
“What has gotten into you?” says Jason. He grips the steering wheel tighter.
“Nothing,” says Celerie.
“Nothing? The dress makes you look like a slut.”
“What did you just call me? Have you lost your mind?”
“Is that the kind of dress you wore when you were with Matthew?” Jason is shocked by the words that just came out of his mouth.
The silence in the car is punctuated by the radio song. Jason knows it was a mistake to read Celerie’s diary. Her relationship with Matthew was described in graphic detail. He could not get the words she wrote out of his mind. Worse, the images that filled his head since he read her diary never seem to leave him. Jason keeps seeing Celerie and Matthew together over and over again in his mind.
Celerie turns the radio down. She speaks in a soft, calm voice. “So that’s what this is about.”
“It’s about a dress that’s too tight.”
“I wish it were.”
“Just take the dress back.”
“You knew I was with Matthew before, you knew that. You said you accepted that. I told you.”
Silence.
“I was up front right from the start, even before we got serious.”
“Is that the kind of dress he liked?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that question? Do you really want me to tell you what he liked?”
“Take the dress back.”
“This is what happens when you read someone’s diary. Did you think I wouldn’t know? Those were my feelings and thoughts recorded in that moment,” Celerie continues. “It’s raw, it’s real, but it’s in the moment. What Matthew and I had is in the past. It’s gone now. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you?”
“What is this about? Why this, now?”
Jason’s voice cracks with emotion. “You would have never had me if he hadn’t dumped you.”
Silence.
“Isn’t that the truth?” says Jason.
Silence.
The car speeds along the highway. The sun is fading and the darkness envelopes the car. Celerie turns the radio back up and looks straight ahead.
Chapter Nineteen
“It’s almost midnight. Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow, Mr. Jardine?” Patricia’s voice is just a bit too calm.
Matthew says, “This is a murder investigation. Unfortunately, we go where the evidence takes us. Any place, any time.”
“Come in.”
Across the street, a tall, thin man in a cap watches. Today his flat cap is made of tweed in a tartan pattern. It almost completely covers his wide nose. As usual he has done his homework. The Andersons are on vacation. They won’t be back for a good while. He looks through the scope of the rifle. He can see Patricia clearly.
Matthew notes Patricia’s neck muscles are tense. The night is cold, and the breeze hits his transplanted face hard. It is strange having a numb face. Usually the cold on his face makes him feel vigorous. He misses it.
Patricia says, “You’ve brought a friend. One agent isn’t enough to question me? I already answered all your questions with Mr. Cooper.”
“There are a few details we need to clarify. This is Heather.”
“Hi.”
“Great to meet you.” Patricia looks at Sarah like an art expert seeing a rare find, trying to estimate the value. More or less than me. “You’re a very beautiful woman. I love your hair, classic shoulder length style.”
“Thanks.”
“Why did you dye it? You look like a natural blonde. Black’s a bit too harsh for your face.”
“I just like to change things up. I was bored.”
Matthew takes charge of the conversation. “Ms. Grabowski, I’d like to remind you that this is a formal interrogation into the death of Dr. Tom Grabowski. This is official business.”
Matthew, Sarah, and Patricia sit down in the living room. The chairs are neatly arranged around a small glass table. Matthew is amazed that Patricia has no idea who he is, even when she looks directly at him. She looks genuinely sad, like she is grieving. In the many conversations he had with Tom, he knew that she loved him. Why did she lie to Jason and say Tom thought Matthew was up to something? What about the gambling debts?
“Mrs. Grabowski, as I mentioned, we’re following up on your previous interview with my colleague. We have new information.”
The tall, thin man in the cap moves his rifle from person to person. His chamber has six rounds. Perfect. Two for each. Anyone who fires more than two rounds is not a professional. As he watches them talk, he makes a plan. Who should he kill first? Definitely Patricia. She knows enough to blow open the whole plan, even though she doesn’t realize it. The others are tricky. After he kills Patricia, the other two will dive for cover. He may not be able to get clean shots. He takes out the six-round cartridge and loads the ten.
Patricia does not move. Her left hand massages the fabric on her dress.
“You had some gambling debts. Did they kill Tom as payback?” says Matthew.
Patricia begins to cry.
Sarah asks, “Why did Tom Grabowski die?”
“He was not supposed to die,” says Patricia.
Sarah says, “We know that you did not want him dead. You were a good wife.”
“I was. I was a good wife.”
“We know.”
“He was not supposed to die.”
“We think Mr. Grabowski’s murder is part of something much bigger. If you give us useful information and are truthful in your statements, your role may be forgotten. You can go on with your life.”
Patricia, “Really?”
Sarah says, “We’re prepared to do that for you.”
The man with the tartan cap thinks of himself as an elite sniper. He ranks himself with the very best. He has mastered concealment, surveillance, and precision shooting. He knows it will be hard to take them all out, even with his skills. He steadies the weapon on the bipod. He wedges the sandbag under his left shoulder. He lays on his stomach. Showtime.
Matthew asks, “What do you know?”
“I don’t know much.”
Sarah touches Patricia’s hand. “You need to start talking, tell us what you do know.”
“I don’t . . .”
Matthew cuts her off with a nasty growl. “You lied to your husband and got him to do a face transplant.”
“I didn’t lie to him.”
“You told the investigators that Matthew and Tom had fallen out. That was a lie.”
Patricia gasps. “How did you find out?”
Matthew says, “We spoke to Matthew.”
Sarah looks at Matthew.
Patricia says, “I thought he was on the run.”
Matthew is caught in a lie and tries to recover. “We have our ways. I’m not the one under investigation. It’s your job to answer my questions, not the other way round. Tell us what you know.”
Sarah adds, “Help us to help you, Patricia.”
“I like to do a little bit of gambling. I’ve been doing it for years. Never had a problem. This last time . . . I just got a little carried away.”
Matthew stares at Patricia. “Mr. Kofi Adebayo has already confirmed to us that he helped you settle an earlier gambling debt. This was not the first time. Do not lie to us. If you continue to lie, we will have no choice but to march you out of this house straight to jail. I am clear?”
“Sorry. Yes, sir. It was a new place. I can’t even remember how I got invited. At first I was winning big. Then my luck changed. It really went bad. I kept thinking my luck would turn. I kept betting, but I just kept losing. As the sums got bigger, I bet more to clear all the debt. Before I knew it, I was in a deep hole. A deep, deep hole. There was no way I could get hold of that kind of money. Tom didn’t have that kind of money. I tried to get the money any way I knew how, but it was just too much. Yes, I tried Kofi. He’d helped me before, but he refused.”
Sarah says, “So they killed Tom for your gambling debt?”
“No. One of their guys with pale gray eyes came over one day, roughed me up pretty good. Said there would be more if I didn’t pay. Tom came home, and I couldn’t hide it. I had to tell him the whole story. He was mad. I thought he was going to leave me. Almost as soon as I’d told him, we get a call. A man says he can fix everything.”
Sarah takes over questioning. “The man with the pale gray eyes, he was short, kind of wide?”