Hybrid

by Brian O'Grady

  “It’s complicated. You don’t know all that’s going on; I don’t even know everything. All I know is that right now she is not an option. That may change soon.”

  “It better be soon, because for the next week all we can do is sit on our asses. At this point, I’d buy a beer for the devil himself if he could help.”

  “The devil, huh?” McDaniels asked.

  “Anyone, in fact. I am now extending a blanket offer to anyone who can extricate our posteriors from this mess.”

  “I will pass that on; in the meantime, I have something for you. We finished the background checks on Dr. Sabritas and Larry Strickland; both of them are clear, but Strickland had a girlfriend . . .”

  “Rachel Hill,” they both said at once. The dark-haired beauty was one of the secretaries who had filled in for Martha during her yearly two-week reserve deployment in early January. She had physical access to Martin’s computer and wouldn’t need much time to work out his passwords. The rumors of the tall and hunched Larry Strickland dating the exotically beautiful Rachel had even reached Martin’s ears.

  “She’s your spy,” said McDaniels. “The real Rachel Hill disappeared when she was a junior at Georgetown two years ago, only to reappear in Tampa six months later. They probably killed her. The poor girl had no close family ties, and after several weeks, she was essentially forgotten. Your Rachel Hill has been quietly living someone else’s life ever since. Very clever, very discreet, only she wasn’t aware that the real Rachel Hill had at one point volunteered to be a bone marrow donor. She had type O positive blood. Your Rachel Hill is B negative—reasonably rare, except in certain ethnicities.”

  “So now what do we do with her?”

  “We will handle it, but I would like you to secure her for us,” McDaniels said without emotion or further explanation. “Please thank your secretary, Colonel Hays, for me. She pointed my people in the right direction; probably saved us a few days.”

  The line went dead, and Martin wondered if all of McDaniels’s phone calls ended so abruptly.

  The general had given Martha free rein to find the spy, and she had. There would be no living with her now. “Colonel, can I borrow a moment of your time?” Martin yelled loud enough for Martha to hear.

  She appeared at his doorway, freshly showered and wearing surgical scrubs. Her hair was pulled back, and she looked ten years younger.

  “Mrs. Hays, you clean up well,” he said.

  “Maybe you should try it,” she said wryly, and he smiled. “Come on, what do you want? I have a photo shoot in five minutes.”

  “That was the famous General McDaniels. He sent his greetings and thanks. Rachel Hill is not who she says she is.”

  Martin quickly summarized their conversation.

  “So she is the leak,” Martha said without surprise. “She always seemed ‘off’ to me.”

  “You’re taking this well. Did I fail to mention that whoever she is, she had every intention of watching all of us die?” Martin was surprised by her utter lack of emotion.

  “You want me to get her so we can beat her brains in?” Martha feigned to leave her favorite spot just inside his office door.

  “Why don’t you ask her up here, but try and leave her brains where they’re at.” Martin forced a smile.

  Ten minutes later, the tall and dark woman everyone had known as Rachel Hill walked into Martin’s office and sat in the only clear chair; behind her came Martha. Two armed security guards discreetly entered the outer office and took up station on either side of Martin’s door.

  “Who are you?” Nathan asked without preamble.

  She stared back at him with eyes as big as saucers, beautiful saucers. “Dr. Martin, you know who I am,” she said in a sweet, innocent voice that conveyed complete confusion. She looked up at Martha.

  Martha finally displayed some emotion. “Drop the act. Rachel Hill disappeared four years ago in Washington. For all we know, you killed her.” The colonel of the army reserves had repositioned herself between Martin and the girl.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am Rachel Hill.” Her voice cracked, and she began to shake. Her eyes welled up, and without warning, Martha slapped her face so hard that the guards jumped. She followed the slap with a left hook. Blood from the girl’s broken nose sprinkled across Martin’s desk, and Martha threw herself at the reeling young woman. Martin jumped to his feet, not sure how to respond to his secretary’s unprovoked violence. Thoughts of army “enhanced-interrogation techniques” raced through his mind.

  “Grab her arms!” Martha yelled to one of the guards, and they both launched themselves at the pair of struggling women. They pinned the arms of pseudo-Rachel Hill behind the chair and quickly handcuffed her, which only made her start kicking and bucking in the chair. It took a couple more minutes to completely subdue her, and then Martha stood back up and tucked her scrubs back in. Everyone in the room was breathing hard.

  “You want to explain to me what all that was about?” Martin’s voice was so high, he wondered if he was squeaking.

  Martha was still out of breath and simply dropped a small handgun onto his desk. “I’m fairly sure that was meant for us.”

  Everyone looked at the woman in the chair. Her long hair was strewn across her bloody face, and her scrub top was torn down the center, exposing her deep cleavage.

  No one spoke, and Martin slowly returned to his chair and stared at her. She was older now; the façade of innocence slapped off her face. “Who are you?” he repeated.

  She threw her hair back and glared at him, saying nothing.

  They sat staring at each other for a long moment. “I think I am going to make a very powerful man angry,” Martin said, standing abruptly. He turned to Martha. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  It took him ten minutes to find everything he needed, and a handful of curious lab personnel followed him back to his office. “Here we are,” he said to Rachel Hill in a whimsical voice. “Now technically, I am a federal employee, and I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but what the hell. We’re all friends here, and you tried to kill us, twice.” He jabbed the needle into her arm.

  “Where is he?” Patton asked himself while looking out the broken third story window. After two hours of searching every inch of the hospital and its grounds, Reisch seemed to have vanished. “I’m telling you, he’s a magician,” he answered himself, and then pulled his hulking form back into the destroyed room.

  “We’re certain that he was hit, Chief,” the SWAT team leader said. “No one could have survived three to the chest and a backwards fall out of a third story window.”

  “So you’re telling me that a dead man got up and walked away . . .” Patton bit off the rest of his sarcastic remark. He was starting to lose control of himself more and more frequently.

  “I’m sorry, Captain; I believe you.”

  Patton turned away and shuffled through the broken glass out to what was left of the nursing station. Greg and Amanda Flynn were sitting in the middle of a semicircle of heavily armed National Guard soldiers. He knew it had to be done, no one wanted to risk losing Amanda, but it was almost comical. If she wanted to go, there was absolutely no way of stopping her. He veered around the group and headed for the captain in charge.

  “Chief,” the career military officer said as Patton approached.

  “Can I have a moment with you, Captain?” Patton led the army officer into a deserted patient room. “I know you have orders, and you are just following them, but do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” He pointed to the ring of soldiers around the Flynns. “If that young lady decides to leave, we’re going to have a whole lot more dead soldiers on our hands.”

  “I have been ordered to hold her,” the captain said officially.

  “You are provoking her at a very dangerous time. Who is your CO?” Patton had taken out his cell phone.

  “We are taking our orders from federal authorities.”

  “Please give me a moment, Captain.”
Patton turned away and after a moment had Don Heller. “It’s Patton; I’m here at the hospital.” Patton paused.” No, we haven’t found him, but that’s not what I’m calling about. A ring of armed soldiers is surrounding Amanda Flynn.” Patton paused again. “I understand, but you know very well that we can’t hold her against her will. Remember what happened yesterday outside the mall, and this morning in Mescali?” He waited a moment and then handed the phone to the captain.

  “I understand, sir,” was all he said and then closed the phone. “She is now officially your problem,” he said with relief while returning the cell phone. A few minutes later Patton was alone with Greg and Amanda.

  “You have become my problem,” he said to Amanda. “Is he dead?

  “No; I doubt he’s even hurt. He was focused on defending himself. Look for the bullets somewhere in the room; their force knocked him through the glass, but I don’t think they ever hit him. The fall wouldn’t have done much to him, either.”

  “I know you’re tired, but do you know where he is?” Patton tried to sit on the counter in front of her, but it immediately cracked.

  “No idea. It wouldn’t take much for him to conceal himself, and he will after this morning.” Amanda took a deep breath and looked up at the big black man. “He has to be found. Can you get Ron Benedict down here as soon as possible?”

  Patton suddenly looked puzzled. “He’s the assistant director for the FBI; he was in Denver last night. You have a much bigger problem than Reisch.” She looked over at Greg to include him in the conversation. “There are eleven terrorists spread out across the country, and each of them has a vial of the virus. There used to be sixteen; Reisch didn’t know what happened to the other five. In less than two days, he is supposed to send them a message to release the virus. He doesn’t know who they are, how they got here, or where they are. No one does. They were ordered to disappear, and communicate only through the Internet. They’ve been using a Web site called My Space.”

  “So, he hasn’t sent the message yet. If we can get to him before he can send it . . .” Greg said, but Amanda cut him off.

  “They have contingency plans in place. They’re trying to time this exactly so that only the U.S. is affected, and if the moles don’t hear from Reisch within four days, they will release the virus themselves. That doesn’t really matter because I’m pretty sure he’s sending the message now.”

  “So Reisch is out of this, aside from general mayhem.” Patton said thoughtfully, but Amanda shook her head. “There’s more?”

  “I’m afraid so. He has a small satchel or fanny pack—I don’t know what they’re called—but inside are two vials. One is a large dose of concentrated virus, and he plans to gradually release it until everyone, not just Americans, have been infected. He sees himself as a new Moses leading the chosen people.” Amanda pointed a finger at her own chest.

  “What’s in the other vial?” Greg asked.

  “A vaccine. Reisch stole both vials from a man named Jaime Avanti. He created the virus and the vaccine and he was sneaking it to . . .” Amanda smiled weakly. “ . . . to Nathan Martin.” She looked at Greg and her smile broadened.

  “So he’s a part of this?” Greg said darkly, while Patton looked on confused.

  Amanda looked at the new chief of police. “He’s one of the heads of the CDC; we have a history.” She turned back to Greg. “No, he’s not involved. Avanti wanted to limit the full effect of the virus and was going to give Martin the means to do it.”

  “So if we catch this Reisch, we’re back in business; we’ll have the vaccine.” Amanda shook her head again and Patton wanted to scream. “There’s more!”

  “A vaccine has to be administered before a person is infected. If the eleven release the virus as planned, the vaccine will be worthless; at least to us.”

  Patton got up and began to pace through the wrecked ICU, cursing colorfully.

  “I guess he needs a moment,” Greg said. “Are you all right, honey?”

  Amanda turned to Greg. “Reisch was correct about two things: a lot of people are going to die, and no matter what happens, there’s going to be a whole new group of people like me; and some of them are going to be just like him.”

  Patton returned, his face red but his voice under control. “You’re the only person who can catch Reisch, Amanda, but you are also the only hope anyone has for curing this thing.”

  “I know what you need. I’m sure I can spare a pint or two.”

  “Chief?” A uniformed officer approached Patton. “I think you should see this. The president is addressing the nation.”

  “Don’t worry Rachel, or whatever your name is. It’s just a harmless little cocktail we give to the animals when they get too excited. Just a little Fentanyl, a little Pentobarb, and a few other mild sedatives. It shouldn’t hurt you too bad. How do you feel?”

  Despite his even tone, Martin was in a controlled rage. He couldn’t get at Jeser, but he certainly could take care of their spy. The military and FBI would treat her with kid gloves, and she would tell them nothing, safe in the knowledge that American law would prevent them from doing anything more uncomfortable than talking to her sternly.

  Rachel’s head dropped, and she stopped straining against the handcuffs. For a moment, everyone thought that Martin had killed her. Then she gasped loudly, and her head came up. “My nose itches,” she mumbled.

  “A common side effect of the narcotic,” Martin said and looked up to find that Adam Sabritas had joined the crowd of onlookers.

  Adam’s hair was a mess, and he obviously hadn’t showered in days. He started to wave a sheet of paper at Martin, but then stopped when he saw Rachel.

  Nathan turned to Martha as Rachel’s head lolled again. “See if you can find a cardiac monitor. I don’t want her to die on us.”

  “I’m not sure you should be doing this,” Martha whispered quietly.

  “I’m not going to let millions of people die when she has answers in her head. Her civil rights are not more important than their lives. You know no one else will do this, no one else can do this.” It was a singular moment of opportunity, and he would not look back on this moment with regret for not having done all he could.

  Martha nodded and weaved her way through the growing crowd. Adam took the opportunity to move in closer.

  “Dr. Martin,” he whispered, despite the fact that everyone could hear him. “I want to show you something.” But it was obviously not the right time. “I suppose it can wait.”

  Rachel looked up and then around the room. A pale Larry Strickland had worked his way forward, and Rachel’s hypnotic eyes fell upon him.

  “Do you want to tell him what we did on his desk?” Rachel spoke slowly and softly, each word understandable, but slurred.

  Larry looked up at Martin, his face burning with humiliation and embarrassment.

  “It was just—”

  Martin waved him off and lifted Rachel’s chin. “I don’t care how many people you seduced, or where you seduced them. I want to know your name.”

  “Maria. I am Maria Belsky.” She tried to lift her head proudly, but the wobble ruined the effect. “I am from Bosnia. You remember Bosnia.” She could barely form the words.

  “Who sent you here?” Martin shook her arm to rouse her. “Somebody get me some Narcan and Romazicon.” He needed to reverse some of the sedative effect. A syringe was passed up the crowd to him, and he injected a quarter of the clear fluid into her shoulder. Cardiac and respiratory monitors were wheeled in, and Martha attached the leads to the young woman’s chest.

  It took a couple of minutes, then her eyes opened widely, and for a second, she looked frightened and confused. “You can’t do this to me.” She was more awake but still drugged.

  “Who sent you, Maria?” Martin’s voice was softer, more inviting.

  It took her half a minute to respond. “Doesn’t matter if you know.” The words were still slow and slurred, but her eyes were open. “Dr. Avanti sent me. It was all his i
dea. He made the virus,” she whispered.

  “Who did Dr. Avanti work for?” Martin continued with his soothing tone. Her eyelids began to flutter again; the shortacting Narcan was beginning to wear off, and she was about to sink back into the depths of unconsciousness.

  “He never really knew, but I did,” she smiled crookedly. “It took me five years to work it out.” Her head dropped again.

  Nathan looked up, and it was Martha who tripped to it first. “Maria, honey,” she said in a sweet southern drawl, “can you tell me who you work for?”

  Maria tried to smile again, but the muscles in her face weren’t working well. “Lots of people. Dr. Martin is one of them.”

  “And then there’s Dr. Avanti,” Martha said, and Maria nodded. “Do you work for anyone else?”

  Her conscious mind tried to resist, but the drugs had put most of it to sleep, and her unconscious mind felt compelled to answer. Besides, it was fun to tell secrets, especially ones that showed how clever you’d been. “The First Directorate.”

  Everyone in the room blinked except Martha. “Mokete bol nonfat mehr? ” she said, and everyone in the room blinked again.

  “Da, bol robopute ha pycckom rebike xopowo.” Maria seemed to be more comfortable with Russian.

  “Caenante bol pabotaete ara Sluzhba Vnoshney Razvedki? ” Martha seemed just as comfortable.

  “Da, b teyehne debrtn net.”

  “Okay, Martha, what’s she saying?” Martin whispered in her ear.

  “She’s a spy, a Russian spy.”

  “Why are you here? You should be miles from here.” Amanda asked the approaching Oliver, and looked accusingly at Linda. They had moved to the relative calm of the ICU waiting room. Amanda had repeated her story to the FBI, and they had started the process of shutting down the Web site. She still had a needle in her arm as the second of two bags filled with her blood.

  “We heard what happened on the radio,” Oliver said sheepishly. Amanda looked at Lisa questioningly. “It’s not her fault; I made her do it.” Oliver’s meaning was clear.