“Yeah. On it,” the medic said.
CoCo followed him back to the infirmary. Ashley trailed behind them. At the curtain, CoCo stopped, facing her. “No, girl. You stay out here.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not one of your men,” she snapped.
Narrowing his eyes, he put his hands on his hips, anticipating a debate. When she pushed past him, he sighed and let her go. If he had been through what she had, he would want to see this, too.
As they neared the savage’s bed, they heard his muffled shrieks. Derek pulled back the curtain. On the tangled and crusty sheets, the man bucked against his restraints, eyes bulging. Derek picked up a pillow from where it had fallen on the floor and came around the bed. Then he placed the pillow over the man’s face and held it firmly. The savage’s thrashing increased as he struggled for air. CoCo stepped up to the bed, withdrew his M-9 sidearm from its holster, and fired one shot into the pillow. The savage jerked. Then he was still. CoCo turned to Ashley, expecting her to be in shock. Instead, a small smile graced her bruised face. “One down,” she said. CoCo imagined her counting how many more there were to go.
CHAPTER 47
Staring at the faded photograph of her grandfather and his friends, Vanessa couldn’t help noticing the chubby cheeks, small eyes, and blond hair of the man standing next to Isaac. Of course Harry didn’t look anything like that now. Still, the resemblance was there, perhaps more in his presence than his appearance. Seeing his image next to her beloved grandfather was too much to bear.
For years, Vanessa had walked on thin ice. If she moved with careful intent, the ice would not break. She would not fall into the cold abyss, sinking into dark depths where light and air were only memories. When she learned of Isaac’s involvement in the NSO, the ice had cracked. Since then, she had been oscillating between panic and hope. Michael’s affection had pierced her protective bubble and now she was naked, exposed to the treachery of truth. Sitting here in this cramped yet comfortable office, decorated with homey bits and family photographs, the ice split. A rushing river filled her ears.
How could Harry, Isaac, and Papa have been friends? How could these men, her protectors and teachers, her family, be part of what had happened? Did they really plan something that would result in her rape, terror, and despair? Papa and Isaac were supposed to have loved her!
She had survived, willing herself to get up every morning and do the work to which she was assigned, so that she would one day see the NSO destroyed. Then, she would have her vengeance. The Kovalic name would endure and she would keep her promise to her Papa as the living embodiment of her family’s future. And he knew what they were going to do? He had helped make it possible?
Vanessa plummeted into the abyss, its icy fingers pulling her down. No sharp edge or smooth platform gave her purchase. She heard her own jagged gasps as her lungs failed. She could not even scream for lack of air. Her body numb, her heart thundered.
A familiar hand squeezed hers. Michael was trying to bring her back to the surface. His voice, liquid and light, told her it was going to be alright, but she didn’t believe him. Michael could not save her. No one could. The dark cold tightened around her chest and she started to flail.
Then, someone was holding a paper bag over her mouth. A woman’s voice told her to breathe and she did, hungrily inhaling her own, moist breath. The darkness receded. She could see the lamplight spilling onto the polished surface of her grandfather’s knife. Her hammering heart slowed to a normal rhythm and she was back in the comfortable room.
McGrath, Lieutenant Marino, and Michael huddled around her. Marino’s low voice was soothing as she told Vanessa that panic attacks were a normal reaction to intense trauma. Michael had not let go of Vanessa’s hand. Now, he stroked her hair. Marino removed the paper bag and set it on the desk.
Vanessa sat up and took a deep breath. McGrath sat back down in his chair. A heavy sadness cloaked Michael’s lion-like face. Vanessa wanted to lift it, to see his eyes light from within.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey. Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Michael said.
“He’s right. This is my fault. I’m asking too much of you,” McGrath agreed.
“No. You’re doing what you have to,” Vanessa replied, meaning it. She stared at him, noting for the first time the shadows beneath his eyes, the stubble on his chin, and the stress around his mouth. Until this point, she had only paid attention to the calm in his voice and the pressed crispness of his uniform.
Appraising him, Vanessa also discovered his kindness. His need for information was urgent. Somewhere, a clock was ticking, counting down to a moment when either he would succeed or the world would change forever. Though anxious, he did not hurry her responses. His patience was a gift.
“You asked me about Harry Rose. I’ll tell you what I know,” she said.
“Are you sure, Vanessa? We can take a break,” McGrath replied.
“I’m sure, Colonel.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” He pushed files away to clear a space in front of him. Then he pulled a pad of paper from a stack on one side of the desk and grabbed a pen. When he was ready, Vanessa launched into her story.
“Harry was the first administrator I worked for as an assistant. Compared to the others, he was easy. He wasn’t interested in sex and didn’t require more of me than an occasional back rub. In fact, under Harry, I actually performed mostly as a secretary. I didn’t spend much time with him. Unlike my stints under the other administrators, I only lived in his home for a few months.
While I was with Harry, I felt safe. At that time, the NSO was new. The tenants of the New Social Order were tenuous and every day brought changes as the administrators worked out kinks in their system. In some ways, it was exciting. I was part of a plan to save the city and my work was helping to establish a novel government designed to give people a happier life. The slogan, ’Where there is no need, there is no greed,’ made sense to me then and I was proud to be working in my small capacity to make things better.
It didn’t take long before my relationship with Harry changed. The more I embraced the propaganda and celebrated the NSO’s growing stability, the colder Harry got. In the beginning, he would include me in discussions as he weighed the pros and cons of the administrators’ recommendations. Eventually, he stopped asking my opinion altogether. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, or why he was treating me so differently. Eventually, he passed me on to the next one. That’s when I got my introduction to what was expected of assistants. I balked and was punished severely for my lack of compliance. When I bumped into Harry at the first quarterly meeting after we’d parted, I begged him for help. He told me everyone had to do their duty for the NSO. That was the last time I spoke with him directly.”
“You said that he weighed recommendations from the other administrators. Was he in charge?” McGrath interrupted.
“Supposedly, all the administrators are equal, but they’re not. Harry was always a leader and he wasn’t in charge of a department like the others. He sat at the head of the table during the meetings and almost all the other administrators wanted his approval on their decisions. He wasn’t in charge, exactly, but he was important. He didn’t do things the way everybody else did. He even insisted on staying in his own home. He wouldn’t move around like the rest of them.”
“Most of the other administrators wanted his approval? Who didn’t?” McGrath asked. Vanessa blanched. Any memory of Lewis was anathema. She tasted the bitterness of her hatred for him as she responded.
“Lewis. And the head of the Watch Tower, Bowen. Neither of them got along with Harry. They pretended to, but it was obvious to everyone they didn’t like each other.”
“What’s Lewis’ full name?” the colonel asked.
“I don’t know. Nobody ever called him anything else, even in letters. He just goes by Lewis.”
“Okay, now I’m going to ask you a hard
question. If you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand. Just do the best you can with it.” He looked at her, taking a few long seconds to make sure she was steady. Vanessa nodded her head, inviting him to ask what he would.
“When you realized Harry Rose was in the picture with your grandfather and Isaac Cohen, it upset you greatly. Do you mind telling me why?”
“Because it made it true. Everything you’ve said. I thought Isaac was just a worker, like me. Then I found out he was Michael’s friend and knew about the cell. He was my friend my whole life. It was impossible he was involved in the NSO. He despised it.
And then you suspected my father and grandfather of collusion as well and I couldn’t accept it. Coincidences didn’t prove you right. Even the notes in the knife didn’t prove anything. But when I recognized Harry in the picture, I had to admit it. All day, I’ve been bothered by something I couldn’t remember, something important about Harry and Isaac. I’ve been going through my journal, trying to remember what it was and thinking they had something to do with each other, but I couldn’t place it.
Colonel, this will sound crazy, but Isaac and my grandfather were good men. It wasn’t in their nature to do something so evil. They cared about people. They cared about the world. They were always talking about how to make things better. They wouldn’t do this. They couldn’t do this. But when I figured out it was Harry standing with them in that picture, I didn’t know what to think. None of it makes any sense!”
“I’m not so sure, Vanessa. It’s starting to make some sense to me. Why don’t you and Michael go down to the cafeteria and get some dinner? I have to confer with my intelligence team for a few minutes. Then I’ll meet you there. I’ve got a theory about what happened that I’d like to share with you.” He rose and grabbed the slips of paper, the photograph, and his notepad from his desk.
“Vanessa, out of curiosity, were any of the administrators Jewish?” he called out as they were leaving.
“Not that I know of, why?”
“Probably nothing, but I was thinking about your grandfather’s note. He said they were bound by faith. I was wondering if he was referring to his religion. It was just a thought.”
Vanessa pondered this while they walked to the cafeteria. Long past the time when the others had eaten, the tables were empty. She wasn’t hungry and only picked at her plate when the food arrived. Unlike her, Michael shoveled the baked chicken and snow peas into his mouth, scarcely chewing the bites.
She loved the different sides of him. In front of others he was cool and smooth. When he wrote, he was so focused and intense that he reminded her of an animal stalking its prey. When he touched her, he was warm, fluid, and sensuous. Other times, he was street slick and aggressive. He could be decisive and convincing, empathetic or withdrawn, funny or silly. No matter what he was doing, he was Michael. Underneath all his facades, his essence didn’t waver. This was what troubled her about the connection between her grandfather, Isaac, and Harry. The NSO and its mandates were contrary to who she knew those men to be.
Michael was finishing a bowl of vanilla ice cream when McGrath joined them at the table. He signaled for a cup of coffee. Then, he spoke.
“Did you ever start out trying to do something that ended up going terribly wrong? When I was a kid, I used to go fishing a lot. I never tried to kill the fish. It wasn’t about eating them. It was about catching them. Whatever I caught, I would release. One time, I caught a really big one. He was a beauty and put up a hell of a fight. When I finally landed him, it took all my strength to stop him from flapping around long enough to get the hook out of his mouth. By the time I pried it free, he was cut up pretty badly. I felt terrible, but figured once he was back in the water, he’d be all right. Only problem was, I’d spent so long working on it, the fish had stopped struggling.
I thought I’d killed him until I saw his tail twitch. I lugged him back to the water, hoping it would revive him. He just lay there, floating in the shallows. Occasionally, he would move a little. Then he’d go still. I thought he was suffering and it was my fault, so I netted him and brought him back on shore. I grabbed a big rock to smash his head and put him out of his misery. When I hit him, I slipped. The rock opened a gash on his head and he started twitching and flipping his tail. I hit him again, ripping off another chunk of his flesh. Finally, he was still. By this time, he was so bloody and mangled, I couldn’t even think about bringing him home to cook him, so I threw him back in the water.
He lay there for a few minutes. Then he swam away. In my effort to not hurt him, I’d destroyed every bit of beauty and grace in him. In the end, my attempts to stop his suffering only made it worse.
Vanessa, I’m wondering if the people who planned this whole thing were like me. It’s possible the designers were trying to do what they thought was right, but it went terribly wrong. I’m guessing your grandfather, Isaac, and Harry Rose were part of a group who wanted to heal the world. Somehow, along the way, the things they did made it worse instead of better. The NSO, the viruses, and all the things that are happening now are the result of efforts gone wrong. Every action has unintended consequences. Their actions were on such a massive scale that the consequences were equally huge. I’m guessing Isaac saw how bad things had gotten and tried to mitigate the damage before it was too late. Your grandfather’s notes were his way of doing the same thing, but he and your father may have died before his messages could make a difference.
I’ve asked the SEAL team to try to locate Harry Rose. From what you’ve told me, he might also have some misgivings. If they can find him, he might be willing to help us stop this thing.”
CHAPTER 48
The mentholated rub on his upper lip helped mask the horrible odor, but didn’t eliminate it completely. CoCo gagged as he sloshed through the muck, traversing pipes full of fresh excrement and foul water. Though they had prepared for this, donning plastic clothing and rubber gloves before their descent, the squish of his feet through the sludge was disgusting. He couldn’t wait to surface and breathe clean air.
Ashley plodded along in front of him wearing borrowed gear. They had torn through private rooms in the basement in search of suitable garments for her, but what they had come up with was far from ideal. She had a waterproof rain jacket, rubber kitchen gloves, and layers of garbage bags tied to her legs.
CoCo was impressed with the girl. She had not complained once since they began their journey across the city. When the men had turned on the flashlights attached to their weapons, she had even thanked them. The flashlights didn’t reveal anything worth seeing, but he was glad they made her happy.
The sight of human waste commingled with swimming rats, used tampons, and soggy toilet paper was vile. CoCo wished for a respirator and oxygen tank. Those items had been discussed, but, in the end, did not make the cut. The tanks were too cumbersome and, if necessary, the team could always surface.
“How much farther?” he called to his point man.
“Not long. Maybe a quarter mile,” Bill replied. CoCo sighed and tried to think pleasant thoughts.
The column came to a halt a short while later. Bill scaled the rusty rungs of the utility ladder and pried up the manhole cover with brute strength and a heavy crowbar. He slipped the end of the bar through the narrow opening, letting in a thin shaft of daylight. Then he took the camera out of his pocket and snaked it through the slit before descending.
Malone had already turned on his small computer. The street above them came into view on the screen. They would wait here until dark. Once safe to move, the team would split again. CoCo would take the majority of the men with him to the plant and begin reconnaissance there. Ashley would stay with Bill and Don and try to identify Lewis’ residence.
He had thought long and hard about his decision to divide the team. Everything about this mission was a crapshoot and Ashley’s story had given them the only solid information about the location of the vaccine so far. Still, her ability to find Lewis’ building was a long shot and CoCo’
s orders were clear.
He would prefer to stay with her, but couldn’t risk the mission if her efforts failed, so he was sending her with the two men on his team he trusted most, after Malone. They would radio when they found the building, lay low, and begin observation. If they didn’t find it before dawn, they would drop back into the sewer and reconvene with the rest of the team at the plant. Maybe, if they were all pushing for answers, something would give.
By the time the light faded from the sky, the team was irritable. Nobody wanted to eat standing in filth and everybody was hungry. The small talk faded into an unnerving silence and tension was palpable when Malone finally gave the all clear and CoCo issued his order to go.
After pocketing the camera, Bill wrestled the heavy, iron lid free. Wedging his body through the opening, he signaled for the rest of the team to follow. They scaled the ladder and joined him on the street.
The fresh air was a welcome relief, but they didn’t stop to appreciate it. Climbing out of the hole, they dashed into the alley and away from the streetlights. Then the bulk of the team waited while Ashley, Bill, and Don stripped off their filthy outerwear. The men rolled the gear into bundles and strapped the bundles to the outside of their packs. They would all have to live with wet boots.
CoCo wished them luck and left without looking back. Instead, he focused on the task ahead. Intel indicated the plant would be heavily protected. Getting inside without detection was going to be difficult at best. What happened after that was anybody’s guess.
As they descended into the sewers again, they moved away from the more populated area inside the Zone. The terrain got drier and easier to traverse and they picked up the pace. Their flashlights bobbed up and down, casting strange shadows on the pipe walls and sending rats scurrying.
CoCo was hot. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his damp shirt clung to his skin. The swish of plastic competed with the soft pad of their boots as they approached their target. Nearing the plant, the point man held up a hand. Instantly, the team stopped. They dropped their packs on the mostly dry floor, shed their outerwear, and adjusted their belts. From this point on, each man would carry only essentials. Like owls on the hunt, they would become silent, alert, and deadly. As CoCo readied himself for the job, training and long experience kicked in and all thoughts beyond the mission receded to the far corners of his mind.
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