Sleight of Hand (Outbreak Task Force)

by Julie Rowe

  The kid who had his phone out started crying.

  “I’m sorry,” Joy said. “If you’ve had some of that beer…”

  “Please, go in, please,” the second kid said, waving at them to go inside. “Take it. Take it!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Wednesday 12:23 a.m.

  Gunner headed for the front door of the frat house, shouldering his way past a couple of guys who looked like they played football in the warm months and hockey in the cold months. The music was loud enough to shake his fillings out of his teeth, and the floor was sticky with spilled food and drink.

  Having a cold beer after a long day wasn’t going to be on his personal menu for a very long time. If ever.

  Two young men were standing within a couple of feet from the doorway. They frowned at him then glanced behind him and stepped back, their expressions turning worried. No, it was guilt making their mouths flatten, the corners turned down, and their hands clutch the plastic drinking cups they held.

  Gunner looked back to see what scared them. Rawley, holding up his ID.

  Rawley? Where did he come from?

  Shit. Thinking this was some kind of raid, most of the kids at this party would try to escape out any exit large enough for them to squeeze out of. He’d find out why Rawley was here after they’d secured the scene.

  “Put that away,” Gunner ordered the agent. “We don’t want them to scatter. They’ll end up getting sick and possibly infecting more people.”

  “Too late for that,” Joy said, nodding at a couple of kids with cell phones out, taking pictures or video of them entering the house.

  Rawley dropped the hand holding the ID, but the damage was already done. People were shouting that the cops were here, and there was obvious movement by the crowd toward the back of the house.

  “Rawley,” Gunner said. “Run around back and stop as many of the kids from leaving as you can.” He glanced at MacDougall. “You do the same with anyone coming out the front.”

  They left at a run.

  Dozer entered the room and grinned at them. “I’ll back up MacDougall.”

  “And nothing else,” Joy said, pointing at Dozer.

  The Homeland agent put his hands up in surrender. He was playing along, for now.

  Gunner and Joy moved as a unit into the house and were met by group of young men who wore militant expressions.

  “What’s going on?” one of them asked. “Who called you?”

  “Medical emergency,” Gunner yelled over the music. “Can you turn the music off so we can talk to everyone?”

  “What kind of emergency?” the other one asked.

  “A medical emergency,” Gunner said, hanging onto his patience with both hands. If he didn’t he might strangle someone.

  Joy held up her CDC ID badge so they could see it.

  Various members of the group swore.

  “Okay,” the first one said then turned and threaded his way through the crowd while the rest began texting.

  The music shut off with a suddenness that cut through the room like a hot blade, searing nerve endings and leaving everyone uncomfortable.

  The kid who’d done most of the talking at the door pushed his way through the crowd and found a chair to stand on. “Everyone,” he said loudly. “Shut up for a minute. Some people are here from the CDC. They have something they need to tell us.”

  A cacophony of voices followed.

  “CDC?”

  “Holy shit, are we going to die?”

  “It’s Ebola, right?”

  It took a minute, but finally everyone stopped talking long enough for Gunner to believe they might be willing to listen.

  He glanced at Joy and angled his head toward what he hoped was the kitchen.

  She slipped through the crowd toward it, her collection and testing kit in hand.

  “I need to know,” Gunner said, “who’s had any of the beer from the Frank Creek keg.”

  No one moved or said anything.

  “Why?” a girl asked from the back of the crowd.

  “Bad batch,” he answered. “It’s making people sick.”

  “We’re not under arrest?” someone else asked.

  “Do you want to be?” Gunner asked. How stupid were these kids?

  “We only opened the keg a couple of hours ago,” the president said. “Just about everyone here has had some.”

  “Except for Jimmy,” another guy said. “He had a lot. He did a keg stand to get it started.”

  “Everyone who’s had some of that beer, please stand over here. We need to get some information from you.” Gunner pointed at one corner of the room.

  Every single college student moved to occupy the corner.

  Joy came back as far as the kitchen doorway, met Gunner’s gaze, and nodded.

  Dozer was watching as MacDougall took down names and contact information. He gave Gunner a sour look. “What are we going to do with them?”

  “They drank contaminated beer,” Gunner said. “Joy tested the keg in the kitchen. Positive. So, someone will have to watch them for a couple of days to see if they develop any symptoms.”

  “We’re not set up for that,” Dozer argued.

  “Better get something ready, because we have to keep looking for the rest of the kegs until we find them, and we only have a few hours before the parties really get started.”

  Dozer nodded, pulled out his phone, and made a call.

  Gunner did the same, stepping out of the house and away from the noise for a moment.

  Rodrigues agreed to set up some kind of medical observation location in New Orleans in conjunction with Homeland and the FBI.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked.

  “A little surgical glue and I’m good as new.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Gunner.”

  “I’m not—” He cut himself off. “I assure you, I wouldn’t jeopardize this investigation in any way. I’m functional, and I’ll notify you if that changes. You have my word.”

  “Fine.” Rodrigues didn’t sound fine, but he’d take what he could get. “Work with Dozer. He’s trying to help.” Gunner was about to say Dozer needed to be pulled off the case more than he did when his boss added, “And Gunner, Joy is there to help you, too. She’s capable, creative, and can kick ass if that’s what you need her to do. Don’t dismiss her abilities. She’s an asset.”

  “I’m well aware of how great and varied her abilities are,” he said, his tone cold. He respected Joy more than ninety-nine percent of the people he knew on the face of the planet. “Have I given any indication otherwise?”

  “She’s worried about you, Gunner.” Rodrigues’s tone was concerned and invited a confession.

  Had Joy talked to their boss about him? Expressed a lack of confidence? Trust? The possibility left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “Thank you for bringing it to my attention,” he said with careful control. “I’ll take a moment, when I can, to talk with her and…” Just thinking about that conversation had his jaw freezing shut. He fought to force the rest of the sentence out. “Alleviate her concerns.”

  “She didn’t tattle to me, Gunner.”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t come running to me to complain. All she did was ask for a little extra latitude in case you got grumpier than usual.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve been injured, your partner is only in marginally better shape, and I’ve already had one complaint from Homeland about your attitude.”

  Dozer or Rawley?

  “We don’t have time for posturing or power plays. If some agent doesn’t like it when I correct them or countermand an order because the one they gave was dangerous…” Gunner paused. “I will attempt to be more diplomatic.”

  “Good.” There was a longer pause before Rodrigues spoke again. “Keep me informed on your progress in locating more of the kegs. Watch for a pattern in distribution or anything that might hint toward a specific objective.”
>
  “Objective?” Like what, world domination?

  “Homeland believes there is a larger terrorist goal in play.”

  “FAFO?” Gunner asked, his insides hardening, preparing for a hit. “Or are we talking about something larger?”

  “We don’t know, and that’s the problem. I take it I won’t have to convince you of the importance in determining if it’s true or not.”

  “No, Dozer mentioned his suspicions.” A bioterrorism attack would be unimaginable. Infectious diseases spread out and continued to kill long after the initial release of the pathogen.

  “You’ve only got a few hours left before things are going to get complicated.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He ended the call.

  Someone cleared their throat behind him. Dozer. Just the agent he wanted to talk to.

  Gunner smiled. Dozer’s inquiring face closed up. Yes, that’s right, I’m pissed at you.

  “If you have a problem with me,” Gunner began in a pleasant tone. “Talk to me about it. Don’t go running to my boss unless we’ve had a chance to work it out. We’re both professionals, aren’t we?”

  Dozer crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re an asshole sometimes, you know.”

  “Isn’t everyone?” Gunner countered. “Look, I have little to no patience for people who think they know it all, especially when they don’t.”

  Dozer sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Gunner.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. But you’ve ruffled some feathers. If you want to stay out of hot water, you might want to let Joy do more of the talking. I know for a fact that both Homeland and the FBI have looked at your file.” He shifted his weight. “Your wife died in front of you in Syria, and you went a little crazy after. Your psych eval is riding the border between acceptable and not.” He dropped his arms to slip his hands into his pockets. “It’s nothing to feel ashamed about,” he said, softening his tone. “Hell, something like that would fuck up anyone. But, you’ve got to stop treating everyone like the enemy.”

  Gunner had to give it to Dozer, the guy was gutsy to try and play both bad cop and good cop at the same time. “What’s wrong is the number of assumptions you’ve made after knowing me for a only short time. I’m called Dr. Grumpy for a reason.”

  Dozer didn’t say anything, just stood still, unmoving.

  “Can we move onto the problem at hand? We need to get these kids into an isolation and observation ward of some kind.”

  Dozer’s stance didn’t relax an iota. “Back to business, huh?” He shifted his weight to one leg. “Okay, what do you suggest?”

  “Is there a convention center we could use?”

  Dozer glanced beyond Gunner then back at him. “That’s not a bad thought. I’ll figure out the location, you figure out the staffing issue.” He pulled out his phone and stepped away.

  Joy joined him. “Rodrigues?” she asked.

  “Supports our recommendations,” he replied.

  “Good.” She looked at her watch. “We’re not going to find them all in time, are we?”

  “Never say never.”

  “Want to take samples from these kids?”

  “Sounds like fun,” he replied.

  “Romantic even.”

  “Much better than flowers or chocolate.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “Gunner, nothing is better than chocolate.”

  He saw the worry hidden on her face and wanted to reassure her, tell her he was okay, but that would be a lie. She hadn’t flinched once in the face of his normal irritable attitude, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her anyway.

  It took them a few minutes to get all the kids at the party organized so they could swab their hands. When the first batch of rapid tests came back positive Gunner knew at least some of these kids were going to get very sick, and some of those would die.

  Sonofabitch.

  Dozer came through with a nearby convention space they could use to set up a rough isolation ward for the kids. Medical staff, student nurses, and residents from one of the medical schools in the city had been tapped to provide care and monitor their health.

  Rawley volunteered to spearhead the setup of the isolation ward. “With Dozer back in action, you don’t need me getting in your way. He can do that just fine all by himself.”

  Look at that—the man had even developed a sense of humor.

  Gunner and Joy were packing up the samples they collected for transport to Atlanta when Dozer found them. “We’ve got another possible keg sighting.”

  “Where?” Gunner asked.

  “A bar in the French Quarter. Word is, they have two kegs. MacDougall says they can finish here for us. He’s got the police ramping up to repeat what we’re doing here in more locations as we find them.”

  “They’re going to get spread pretty thin awfully quick.”

  “Then we’d better find the rest of those kegs just as fast,” Dozer said as he headed out to his vehicle.

  Gunner gestured for Joy to go ahead of him.

  She frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m tired, and my leg hurts.”

  She shook her head. “I saw you talking to Dozer. It looked serious.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wednesday 1:02 a.m.

  Joy watched Gunner press his lips together in a thin, compressed line.

  “It appears that my behavior prompted Homeland Security and the FBI to review my file. I’m not sure what their conclusions were, but he hinted that I might be more than one marble short of a game.”

  She winced but didn’t protest either Gunner’s summary or Dozer’s conclusion.

  “You agree with him?” he asked, sounding offended.

  Oh, Gunner.

  “I think you’re pushing yourself too hard, physically and mentally.” She waved off his knee-jerk denial before he could voice it. “We’re all in that boat with you, but…”

  “You’re afraid I’m going to go swimming without a lifejacket?”

  “Something like that.”

  He stepped closer and said in a low voice, “I’m willing to do a lot for my job, but I would never do anything that might hurt you. If you really believe I need to be sidelined, tell me now and I’ll go. I’ll get on a plane and return to Atlanta. I don’t want to do it, but if that’s what you really think needs to happen, then it happens. No one else knows me well enough to make that determination. Not Rodrigues, not Dozer, not Rawley. Only you.”

  He bent to pick up his bag of gear while her mind raced with the implications of his words.

  He trusted her with everything that mattered to him. His capability to do his job. His self-respect, and knowing his own limits.

  Had anyone else ever trusted her this much? No. Never.

  Her heart rate picked up, and she had to fight down the impulse to kiss him silly, despite his irritation and stomping around like a pissed off bull. Or, maybe, because of them.

  She saw the face of the young soldier who’d accepted death, who’d sought it out, in her mind again. Fear rose up to grip her insides with long, sharp talons, piercing so deep no amount of bravado or courage could stop it.

  Breathing became an intricate ballet between her barely functioning brain and the fear filling her heart.

  Was he willing to die for his job?

  She couldn’t watch another person do that—walk into death’s arms to save someone else. Most especially if that someone was her and the other person was Gunner.

  She didn’t want to take him off the job, because she wasn’t sure how far he’d go to stop this outbreak, so she’d have to become his shadow, stay with him constantly, until the danger passed. Reporting his mental state when she wasn’t one hundred percent sure would destroy the trust between them and annihilate any chance of any kind of relationship. She almost did it. Almost called, but he glanced at her and gave a wry smile.

  “Don’t look so worried, Joy. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”<
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  “Just self-sacrificing?” she asked.

  His grunt was tinged with humor. “You know what Rodrigues likes to say, plan for the worst, hope for the best.”

  Funny how rational that sounded.

  Until the worst was punching you in the face.

  She’d just have to punch back, wouldn’t she?

  They got into Dozer’s vehicle and followed MacDougall into the French Quarter.

  The stripper bar turned out to have those two kegs of Frank Creek beer. Not only did they have them, the owner had watered them down to make them three kegs. He’d managed to contaminate a lot of the surfaces in their storeroom as well as the bar.

  Public Health shut his bar down.

  Dozer gestured for Gunner and Joy to follow him outside. “Our tech guys are working to reconstruct the rest of the files that were erased. It’s going to take a few hours, so I’m going to make Rodrigues happy and get some rest.” He pointed at Gunner’s leg. “And you might want to get that checked out. You’re bleeding…again.” He pointed at Joy. “You, watch him.”

  “You do know you can’t tell me or Gunner what to do, right?” Joy asked, managing to sound less tired than she felt.

  “It isn’t me giving the orders,” he said with grin. “It’s Rodrigues.” He showed them a series of texts from Rodrigues. They hadn’t finished reading those texts on his phone when both their cells dinged to tell them they had text messages of their own.

  “Got a place for us to stay?” Gunner asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Dozer asked. “It’s spring break. Every hotel room in the city is booked.” He smiled. “But Rawley says he’s got a place where we can crash until we get more information. Let’s go.” He turned and walked toward a waiting vehicle.

  “Where?” Joy asked.

  Dozer glanced over his shoulder quick. “I don’t know.” He waggled his phone.

  “It’s a little rough,” Rawley said, leaving the SUV to walk toward them. “But it’s all I could find.”

  “Does he define rough the same way we do?” Gunner said with air quotes around the word.

  Joy shrugged. “Unless he’s spent some time in the military, probably not.”