Hank waited until she was gone. Then he turned and met Leo’s eyes. “She’s got two out of three right. It’s dangerous and technically illegal.”
CHAPTER 35
Gavin licked his cracked lips, encouraged by the fact that he was able to work up enough saliva to wet them. The intravenous fluids that Lydia had started him on must be helping. His fever seemed to rage less, too.
In fact, he felt almost human again. Certainly he felt well enough to come up with a plan.
He rested his head on the pillow and shifted to his side, thinking.
They seemed to be checking on him frequently, perhaps afraid that he, like Celia, would take a sudden turn for the worse. The first woman—the kind-eyed Anna—and Lydia alternated visits. At least, he thought they did. He wasn’t positive, as the first several hours had passed in a hot, cloudy haze.
But, if he was right, then Anna should be coming soon. He had to convince her to let him use her phone. Or overpower her and take it.
One way or the other, he needed to call Sasha. Tell her what was going on. He was lucid enough to know they’d probably kill him if the flu didn’t do it for them. He didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want to die surrounded by paranoid delusional preppers. If he had to die, he’d like it to be in his own home, in his bed, with at least one more cup of decent coffee in his system. But, he wasn’t going to let Bricker get away with his terrorist act. Not if he could stop it.
He rested, conserving his strength, and waited. Finally, he closed his eyes to nap.
The sound of the lock turning on the door startled him awake.
The door opened, the overhead light flickered to life, and the door shut again. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, and then he turned to look: it was Anna.
She walked quietly, trying not to disturb him. He turned his face toward her.
“Hi,” he croaked.
“Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” she asked through her mask.
“Better.”
“That’s good. Let’s take your temperature.”
She removed a digital thermometer from her pocket, slipped it into a plastic protective sleeve, and stood over him. He opened his mouth, and she inserted the probe.
While she waited for it to beep, she checked the level on his fluid bag.
“Do you feel the need to urinate?” she asked him.
He nodded. He didn’t, not yet. But, it would be an excuse to get out of bed. He shifted his gaze to her jacket pocket. He could see a flat metal rectangle encased in pink rubber peeking out of the corner. An iPhone.
“I’ll bring you a bedpan. I don’t think you’re up for the walk to the latrine just yet.”
The thermometer beeped, and he opened his mouth. She removed it and read the display.
“Ninety-nine. You’re on the mend, Mr. Russell.”
He cleared his throat. “Great. I guess I won’t be your prisoner much longer, then.”
She frowned. “You aren’t being held captivate. You’re quarantined. There’s a difference.”
He pushed himself up on his elbows. He was breathing heavily from the effort.
“Is there? I’m locked in this room. You—or someone—confiscated my car keys, my phone, and my gun. It sure feels like I’m being held captive.”
She considered this while opening a fresh Gatorade for him. She slid a straw into the bottle and handed it to him.
“I can see how you could feel that way. But that’s for your own safety. And our safety, too. You should bear in mind that you’re a trespasser here. We would have been within our rights to treat you harshly and, make no mistake, some of us wanted to. Jeffrey—Captain Bricker—insisted we tend to your medical needs in a humane fashion.”
Gavin took a long drink of the cold, sweet liquid.
“Captain Bricker’s your husband, right?”
She hesitated for a moment then said, “That’s right.”
“You have kids?”
“Six.” Her clipped response was suspicious.
He pressed on. “And it doesn’t bother you? All the innocent people—children, too—who might die?”
She looked at him, puzzled. “Of course it bothers me. I wish everyone would heed Jeffrey’s warnings and develop a preparedness plan, learn to be self-reliant. But we can’t force people to listen, Mr. Russell. When the pandemic comes, I’ll mourn the deaths of the unprepared, but I can’t prevent them.”
He barked out a laugh, which turned into a coughing fit. After he regained his breath, he leaned back, his eyes watering from the hacking.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
She just stared at him.
“Your husband is going to unleash the virus. He’s going to cause the global pandemic you all fear,” Gavin told her, his voice hoarse with effort.
She shook her head. “No, you’re confused. We don’t have the virus, we have the vaccine. Celia—and you—didn’t get sick because you were exposed to the Doomsday virus. Lydia says Celia developed a similar strain of the flu as a side effect of being vaccinated. It’s rare, but it happens. You just caught that flu.” She spoke to him in a soothing voice.
“No. I heard your husband and Rollins talking. He has the virus, too. And he plans to go to Pittsburgh tomorrow to infect the population. Your husband’s a killer. And if you don’t do something to stop him, so are you.”
Her eyes flashed above the mask. “That’s a lie.”
“Ask him.”
“I don’t need to,” she snapped.
She turned away from the bed.
“Wait. Please.”
She looked back over her shoulder at him.
Gavin swallowed painfully. “Listen, please, just ask him.”
She looked at him with sad eyes for what seemed like an interminable amount of time but was probably less than twenty seconds. Then she turned and left without answering.
CHAPTER 36
Sasha had passed Hagerstown and was crossing the border from Maryland into Pennsylvania when her cell phone rang.
“Sasha McCandless,” she answered through Connelly’s Bluetooth connection.
“Hi, Sasha, it’s Colleen Young-Wetzel.”
“Hi, Colleen,” Sasha said, mildly surprised to be hearing from the attorney again so soon.
“So, that was easy,” Colleen said.
“You met with Connelly already?” Sasha asked, checking her rear view mirror. The roads had become icy as the temperature had dropped and she’d climbed into the mountains. The last thing she needed was for someone to rear end her.
“Yeah, I spent more time cooling my heels while the FBI played their usual games than I did talking to Leo.”
“How is he?”
“He seemed fine. To his credit, he didn’t talk to anyone until I arrived, but, as it turns out, they didn’t really want to talk to him anyway,” Colleen said in a voice that didn’t quite manage to hide her irritation.
“What?”
“When they finally decided to give me access to my client, Hank Richardson intercepted me on my way into the holding room. He said the government attorneys had decided they didn’t have enough to hold Leo, but that the task force was hoping he would do them a favor,” Colleen explained.
“A favor? Wait—back up. They found a vial of a killer virus locked inside an office that only Connelly can access. That’s not probable cause?” Sasha asked, perplexed and relieved at the same time.
“Of course it’s probable cause. Given the current political atmosphere, they could have disappeared him to Gitmo!” Colleen exploded.
“Oh. Okay.”
Colleen exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry. I’m not frustrated with you. I’m mad at myself, and worried about Leo.”
“Hang on, I’m going to pull over so I can focus on this conversation. Give me a second.”
Sasha wasn’t sure what was going on, but she felt that she needed to concentrate on what Colleen was saying. She flicked her right turn signal, indicating her
intention, and crunched over the gravel shoulder covered with crusty snow. She put the SUV in parkand turned on her emergency flashers. “Go ahead.”
“I should have known the feds weren’t serious about Leo as a suspect. You told me it was mostly Kabuki theater at the scene this morning. They barely checked your bag, for Pete’s sake.”
Sasha found herself nodding. She should have realized it, too. At the time, it seemed odd, but she’d been so relieved, she’d just accepted it as good fortune.
“Colleen, are you saying the entire thing was staged?”
The other woman hesitated before answering. “Not the entire thing. I think they really did get an anonymous tip and responded as they would to any threat like that. But, once they realized Leo was involved, then, yeah, I think they were just running through it like a training exercise. I think they know he didn’t steal the virus and I think they know who did.”
“Who?”
“Oh, I don’t know. But, once they released Leo, they sent me on my way and spoke to him privately. Based on everything I know about the agencies involved in this—in particular, the OGA—I’m sure they told him they had a suspect and asked him to help them in an unofficial capacity,” she explained.
“OGA? You mean GAO—General Accounting Office?” Sasha asked.
“No, OGA. Other Governmental Agency. It’s shorthand for the CIA. You know, they’re supposed to limit their activities to foreign intelligence and counterintelligence activities. But, somehow, they always seem to have a hand in everything. Anytime an FBI, DHS, or ATF agent mutters under his breath about the OGA, you can be sure the CIA is sniffing around. Because of the nature of the threat—the virus came here from France, they’ve been involved in this since the outset. If the CIA had information about the suspect, I absolutely can see them demanding to participate in the take down. But, they couldn’t use one of their own agents to do it.”
“And you think the CIA would ask a private citizen like Connelly to take part in a covert action? That’s insane.”
“That would be insane,” Colleen agreed. “But your friend isn’t just a private citizen. He’s a former special agent with the Department of Homeland Security who’s already neck-deep in this mess. It’s a no-brainer. For the CIA, I mean—not Leo. Leo should tell them to pound salt.”
Sasha’s stomach dropped. She knew to a certainty that if Connelly was asked to help, he would help. “Why would it be such a bad decision? I mean, hypothetically, if they asked him to do something, and he did it?”
Colleen’s laugh lacked any humor. “Because they want to use him so they have their precious plausible deniability. If something goes wrong, no one’s going to admit that Leo was working under the supervision of our federal government. He’ll be on his own.”
Sasha didn’t know what to say. As a lawyer, she had to agree with Colleen: Connelly shouldn’t get involved in any covert actions to help a government agency that would hang him out to dry if it needed to. As Connelly’s girlfriend, she knew it would be nearly impossible to talk him out of it.
“So, what do we do now?” Sasha asked.
“Now, you wait. And pray to whatever god you pray to that nothing goes wrong.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sasha decided to turn around and drive back to D.C.
She knew she really shouldn’t—she had far too much work to do. But she wanted to see Connelly and, if she could, talk him out of whatever Hank was trying to talk him into. Besides, she told herself, she should return his vehicle. The rationale rang weak even to her own ears.
Before she reached an exit, though, Connelly called.
“Hey,” she answered the ringing phone.
“Hey, yourself. Thanks for finding me a lawyer. She was great.”
“It was no problem. Colleen said she didn’t really do anything—they decided they didn’t have enough to hold you.”
She was careful not to ask any questions, but he must have heard the inquiry in her voice, because he said, “Yeah. They want a favor in return, though.”
“Are they getting it?”
Connelly took his time answering. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure. Right now, I’m not available to help them. I’m packing.”
“Packing?”
“Tate called me about a half hour ago to let me know Serumceutical no longer needs my services.”
“He fired you?”
“We mutually agreed that, although the company appreciated my service, the optics of the situation could detrimentally affect the stock price. So, I have a nice, fat separation payment, and Grace has a nice, fat new job.” He mimicked Tate’s lawyerly, dispassionate delivery.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. Grace is much better suited to surviving in that viper pit than I am.”
“Still.”
There was silence on the other end.
A mile marker flashed by on the roadside. Her chance to turn around and return to D.C. was just ahead.
“Listen, I’m turning around. I’ll be there in two hours, tops.”
Connelly chuckled. “Don’t do that. I told you—I’m packing.”
She ignored the sting she felt from his response and said, “Oh. Where are you going?”
“Pittsburgh. Someone very special to me lives there.”
A smile made its way across Sasha’s face. “Oh?”
“Yep. Will you pick me up at the airport at four o’clock?”
“With bells on, Connelly.”
“Skip the bells—that’s just more to take off.”
CHAPTER 37
Anna knew Russell was wrong. She told herself there was no reason to bother Jeffrey about the accusation. But as she followed the path from the quarantined cabin back to the recreation center—which Jeffrey had rechristened the command center—she could feel an uneasy weight settling in her heart.
She’d been Jeffrey’s wife her entire adult life. She’d given him six children. She should have known beyond any doubt that he would never attack the country they both loved. And yet she found herself walking slower and slower—putting off what should have been an easy conversation.
You’re being ridiculous, she told herself and quickened her pace.
She pushed open the door and hurried through the mess hall. Three women were wiping down the tables after lunch. From the distant kitchen, she could hear laughter and banging metal, as another group washed and dried dishes. She kept her head down and avoided eye contact.
Now that she’d resolved to talk to Jeffrey, she wanted to get it over with.
She rapped on his office door then pushed it inward without waiting for an invitation.
George Rollins and Bud Newton were leaning over Jeffrey’s shoulders staring down at some documents—possibly a map—with their brows furrowed in twin ruts of concentration. Jeffrey casually turned the papers upside down and smiled up at her.
“Do you need something?” His tone was kind but it carried an undercurrent, a suggestion that he was busy with important matters and she was interrupting him.
She plowed ahead. “Yes, I do.”
She looked first at George and then at Bud with a steady, unblinking gaze.
Bud got the message faster.
“Uh,” he said, clearing his throat, “George and I can come back in a bit.”
George nodded his agreement, and both men saluted Jeffrey, then scurried past her into the hallway.
As George pulled the door closed behind him, Jeffrey stood and walked around the desk. He took Anna in his arms and hugged her close briefly. She had just snuggled into his chest when he pulled back and held her at arm’s length, peering into her face.
“It’s good to see you. These past two days, we’ve been so busy getting the troops organized, I feel as though I’ve hardly spent any time with you.” He smiled down at her—not his broad, public smile but a private, quiet smile she knew well.
She smiled back at him but then steeled herself.
“It feels like we’ve b
een distant even longer than that,” she said.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Preppers PA has always been ours, almost like one of the kids. A shared responsibility and joy,” she began.
His eyes softened. She’d been watching him reel in skeptics, critics, and fence-sitters for years. Step one was always to establish common ground.
“That’s still true.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re keeping secrets from me.”
He began to deny it, but she fixed him with a look that stopped him cold.
He looked briefly, then he raised his head and met her gaze. “I have. I’m sorry.”
She reached for his hand. “But, why?”
“I want to protect you,” he said.
Despite the teachings of their church and their own conservative values, they’d always been true partners in all of their endeavors, including rolling up their sleeves and breathing life into the prepper organization. It was true that Jeffrey would, on occasion, tell her about certain projects that were of questionable legality only after the fact. But, this vaccine business was taking that to a new level—he’d been actively avoiding telling her anything unless she pressed him.
So, press she would.
“Come on, Jeffrey. This is me you’re talking to.”
“Anna, honestly, there are just too many moving parts to preparing for the pandemic. Hundreds of people are counting on us. I’ve had to bring George and some of the others in on the planning. It’s no reflection on your abilities—or my love—I need you to focus on the family. Our family and the other families. Tending the hearth fires is noble and important work, too.”
She laughed bitterly at the blatant flattery. Her eyes fell on the map sitting face down on his desk.
“Don’t lie to me, Jeffrey. If nothing else, you owe me the truth.”
The anger that welled up in her chest masked the fear that was also clawing its way to the surface: maybe Russell was right.
He reversed course and nodded somberly. “You’re right. I do. I owe you the truth and much, much more, Anna. Forgive me. It’s just difficult to explain our next steps.”
Indispensable Party (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller No. 4) Page 21